I think I'll sell my furniture before I move to Berkeley.  It will be cheaper in the long run than moving it across the country.  And it's not as though I have anything of value here.  Not even sentimental value.

I'm not a sentimental person, after all.  So what if Josh was laying on this bed a few hours ago, making love to me and joking and looking happier than I've ever seen him?  Doesn't mean a thing.

He was laying right there; his head was on that pillow.  If I reach out my hand, I can touch the spot his head rested on.  It's almost the same as touching him, isn't it?

God, I should get drunk.  I'm maudlin enough already.

I'm rolling onto Josh's side of the bed -- one day and I think of it as Josh's side of the bed; how pathetic am I? -- when I hear the doorbell.  My heart literally skips a beat, and I wait for it -- wait for him to shout "Donnatella Moss!" at the top of his lungs.

No such luck, which is just as well. I did what had to be done.  It was the right thing.  Someday he'll -- Well, I don't expect him to thank me for ripping his heart out, but someday he'll understand why it was all for the best.

So I ignore the doorbell.  It's probably the Jehovah's Witnesses again.  For some reason, we get a lot of those in this neighborhood.  Josh finds this amusing, especially since I'm prone to lecture them back on the history of goddess worship.  What?  It's a fascinating subject.  The earliest evidence of--

I'm sobbing again.  Great.  I can't even distract myself with trivia anymore.

The doorbell rings again.  "Donna," CJ yells, "if you don't let me in, I'm getting out my cellphone and I'm calling Josh."

I rush to open the door.  CJ takes one look at me, drops whatever it is she's carrying, and puts her arms around me.  Which just makes me burst into sobs again.

"You look almost as bad as he does," she tells me.

"You saw him?"

"I spent the last hour or so at his place."

"Is he -- how bad -- oh God, CJ."

"And the two of you used to be such talkative people," CJ says.  She picks up her package again.  "Food," she announces.  "Josh said you hadn't eaten."

"He knew you were coming over here?"

"I didn't tell him; but it wasn't hard to figure out, all things considered."  She heads for the kitchen.  "Forks or chopsticks?  I swear, the people at Fast Fong's love me today."

"Chinese?"  What a ridiculous thing to make me start crying again.

"Josh said you were in the mood for--"  CJ stops and looks at me.  "And I am apparently an idiot for listening to him."

"No, it's -- Chinese is fine."  It's moo shou pork, my favorite.  I wonder if CJ remembered that or if Josh told her what to order.

I set the damn college applications on the breakfast bar to clear off space for our meal.  Not that I have the least desire to eat, but I need information and I know CJ.  She'll withhold the facts I'm looking for until I eat.

I manage three bites of moo shou pork before I look at CJ.  "I am not above begging here," I tell her.

"He looks like hell.  Keep eating.  You do know he loves you, don't you?  Because it occurred to me on the way over that he's just clueless enough not to have told you."

"He told me.  It doesn't change things though, does it?  And I can't believe he told you."

"He didn't in so many words.  But by the time he started talking about your sparkly space dust--"

"My what?"

"I have no idea.  More physics, I think."

"Oh, God, that's never a good sign.  CJ, you didn't let him get drunk, did you?"

"Yes, Donna, because every press secretary wants to deal with a drunken, lovesick deputy chief of staff.  Of course I didn't let him drink, you ninny."

"Sorry.  I can't help it.  I worry."

CJ sighs.  "I honestly don't know what to do with you two idiots."

"There's nothing to do.  I've made up my mind.  I refuse to be responsible for ruining his life."

"As press secretary, I applaud your decision."

"I knew I was right."  Dammit.

"On the other hand, as your friend--"

"CJ, don't.  It won't do any good to say it."

"It's really quite something the way he talks about you."

"It's really quite something the way he talks about his work too.  I can't be responsible for taking that away from him."

"I know."  CJ puts her hand over mine for a second.  "And he refuses to be responsible for dragging your name through the mud if this thing becomes public knowledge.  And these things always become public knowledge.  So here you are hurting each other because you don't want to hurt each other."  She shakes her head.  "Fools."

"What else can we do?"

"You could stop doing what you think is best for each other and talk this over together instead."

"What is there left to talk about?  I think what's best for him is my leaving.  Apparently he thinks it's the best thing for me too.  We seem to be in agreement, more or less."

"Yes, but at least if you talk it out honestly--"

"Not now.  I don't think either one of us could stand to talk about it right now."

"Right.  Because, really, who needs to be honest with the love of their life?"  She pauses and reads the message in her fortune cookie.  "'You are a credit to your family.'  Well, hell, I already knew that.  What does yours say?"

I break open the cookie and pick up the little slip of paper.  "'You are standing at a crossroads,'" I read.  CJ and I look at each other and start laughing.  "Like I couldn't have figured that one out by myself."

***

After CJ leaves, I get back into bed.  I grab the pillow on Josh's side -- I've simply accepted the fact that I'll always think of it as Josh's side, no matter what bed I'm sleeping in.  I expect to feel miserable, inhaling the traces of his scent that remain on the pillow, but instead it makes me smile.

And really -- "sparkly space dust"?  What the hell is that about?

I can't stand any more of this, and CJ may be right.  Hell, CJ usually is right, and I need to hear his voice.  So I pick up the phone and dial his number.  The machine picks up after the third ring.

So much for talking things out.

But I suppose, as long as I went to all the trouble to call, I can at least leave a message.

"I love you," I say.  I wait for a second, in case he's listening and wants to pick up.  When I get no response, I take a deep breath and go on.  "And I don't want to leave, but I don't know what else we can do.  All I know is that I was happy this morning and I'm miserable now.  So I'll stay if you want me to."

Even though there's still no answer, I add one more thing.  "I just didn't want you thinking this was about -- this is about me loving you.  I just want you to be clear on that."

I wait, but there's still no answer.  "And you have senior staff at seven tomorrow," I tell him before I hang up.

THE END

03.06.01