Honestly.  I've thought about this.  I've thought about this way too much, as it happens, and I'd never do it.

Try to follow my reasoning here:  Affairs are brief, fleeting things.  Lots of heat, lots of passion, but always short-lived.  And when it's over, that's it.  End of relationship, probably with lots of bitterness and recrimination.  Even if it ends well, even if you do the "let's be friends" thing, it never works.  If you ever cared in the least for that person, the post-affair adjustment can destroy the affection you started out with.  You could end up hating someone you once couldn't keep your hands off.

I refuse to end up hating Josh, so I'd never have an affair with him.

Not even if he were interested in me that way.  Which, sadly, he isn't.

I bring this up to demonstrate a couple of points:  First, I think about this stuff more than I should.  Second, this thing I've finally admitted I feel for Josh is something that should be treasured and nurtured and, well, it should be something permanent.  It's much too rare, this feeling, to be thrown away for a few weeks of really hot sex.  Which is what I'm sure it would be.

Look, just grant me my delusions here.  I've had a bad week.  I'd like to keep my fantasy.

I know I should be practical; I know I should face facts and make plans to move on.  I know now, because Josh (in his drunken, rambling way) told me, that I was much too successful in my attempts to fix him up with Joey Lucas.

I'm moving on.  The college catalogs and the application forms are sitting on my kitchen table.  I'm filling them out and putting them in the mail today.  I'm breaking the news to Josh on Monday.  This morning, however, I want an hour.  Just one hour to contemplate the pros and cons of sleeping with Josh.

Who has no desire to sleep with me.  I know that.  But I need to think this through.  Before I can move on, I need to examine this from all the angles.

So, the advantages of sticking around:  First, there is always the possibility that this thing with Joey Lucas will crash and burn.  Josh does not have a history of healthy relationships with women.

It's enough to make a person question his sense of self-worth.

What?  The man's breaking my heart here.  I'm allowed the occasional snarky remark, especially if it reminds me what a bastard he can be.

Second, even if the Joey Lucas relationship works out, I get him sixteen to twenty hours a day.  Faithful assistant and all that.  Joey Lucas may get the great sex.  (Okay, there's always a possibility that he's not very good -- No, that's not a possibility.  Not at all.)  But I get the banter.  I've been living on that banter for three years; trust me when I tell you that this is not a small advantage.

So those are the pros.  Here, in the interest of equal time, are the cons:

First, Josh and another woman -- I'll see him with her, hear him talk to her.  (They banter too, and it pisses me off -- The banter's mine, dammit!  If she gets the sex, I should at least have exclusive rights to the banter.)  Watching him so happy about Joey Lucas last night was breaking my heart; can I honestly take a steady diet of that?

Second, this is not healthy.  Sitting around moping over a man who doesn't love me back is most definitively unhealthy.  And I'm not going to stop doing it until I've removed myself from the source of temptation.

So that's it.  I have to leave.  Get on with my life.  Get over him.

I can do it.  I'm almost sure I can.

* * *

Stephanie thinks I'm doing the right thing.

We don't talk much about it; this isn't the time to deal with my crisis.  Steph needs someone to listen while she talks about her father, about her fears.  Her department's giving her a leave of absence, which is good.  She should spend the next three months with her dad, if she can.  I've never lost anyone I loved, though I've come closer this year than I like remembering.  So I listen to her and offer what sympathy I can.  And it isn't until the end of the conversation that I say it.

"I'm going to quit my job," I tell her.  I'm amazed to hear the words coming out of my mouth.  It's the first time I've said it to anyone other than CJ and even then I qualified it with "maybe" and "after re-election."  Now that I've said it out loud, it sounds real.  It sounds like I can't take it back.

Steph looks shocked, then sympathetic.  "Because of Josh?" she asks.

What?  Are there flashing neon lights over my head, proclaiming my love for Joshua Lyman?

What's the point of denying it any longer?

"Yeah," I answer.  "Pretty much."

"I'm so sorry, Donna."

I shrug it off.  "I'm going back to school.  About time, don't you think?"

"Yes, but -- he loves you too, you know."

"No, he doesn't."

"You're wrong about that," Steph insists.

"I'm not."

"How can you be sure?"

"He said so.  He said -- there's someone else.  Let's just drop it, okay?  I need to finish school, and I'm quitting my job to do that.  End of story."

Steph looks like she wants to argue the point, but she nods.  "For now anyway," she says.

****

I wasn't going to call him.  I was going to let him deal with his hangover on his own.

I am a weak, weak woman.  By 3 p.m., I cave in.

I spend most of the conversation talking to Sam, as it turns out.  Sam sounds marginally more cheerful than he did yesterday, which is good.  Josh, on the other hand, sounds baffled.  He's got that whole "I know I did something stupid, but I can't remember what" thing going.  I'd usually tease him about that, but I'm in no mood.  Especially when I notice how nervous he sounds when I mention Joey Lucas.

Damn him.  He didn't want anyone to know and he slipped up and told me and now he's nervous.  Damn him.

I get off the phone quickly with a vague remark about calling him later.

I plan to conveniently forget that remark.  Let Joey Lucas call him.  He's her responsibility from now on.

Wendy Darling has left the building.  He's all yours, Tinkerbell.

I drive Steph to the airport, come home and spend the rest of the evening filling out college applications.  It's nearing midnight when I finish, and I'm getting ready for bed when I hear the doorbell ring.  And when I hear a familiar voice shouting, "Donnatella Moss!"

I should have known.  After three years, you'd think I'd know that he can't stand it when I ignore him for the better part of a day.

"Hold your horses, Josh, I'm coming," I yell back.  Just like at work.  Just like a normal day.

He looks like hell.  We're not talking post-hangover hell either.  We're talking worried.  We're talking that barely-holding-it-together look he had at Christmas.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"You didn't call," he answers.  He makes it sound as though I have committed a mortal sin.

"Sorry, I forgot."

He walks past me into the living room.  "What the hell do you mean you forgot?  You promised.  I was scared to death when you didn't call.  I thought -- I was worried."

"Well, you could have just called.  You didn't have to come all the way over here."

"I did call."  He looks at my phone accusingly.

"Oh.  Yeah, I forgot.  I was doing some stuff, and I took it off the hook."

"Why would you do a stupid thing like that?"

Because I was sitting here crying my eyes out over leaving you, and I didn't want you to call me and figure it out.

"I needed to concentrate.  And I said I was sorry, so let's drop it."

He runs a hand through his hair.  "Okay.  Just -- don't ever do that again."

"Okay."

"You scared me, Donna."

"I said I was sorry."

"I worry about you alone over here."

"I can take care of myself.  I'm a grownup and everything."

"You're a lightweight."

"I could Tae Kwon Do your ass."

"A strong wind could knock you down."

"And you can't hold your liquor."

"Yeah, well -- I worry."

"We have established that.  You don't need to.  I'm fine.  Go home."

"Go home?  It took me thirty minutes to get here, and you're sending me home without sustenance?"

"You want me to feed you?  It's almost midnight."

"Still."

I point toward the refrigerator.  "Help yourself."

He walks into the kitchen, right past the table with the stack of college applications ready for the mail.  Oh, shit.

I should tell him anyway.  I shouldn't put this off any longer.  I should tell him.

"Josh--"

"You're out of beer."

"That's your idea of sustenance?"

"At midnight, yes."

"After last night?"

"One beer is all I'm asking for.  Why don't you have any?"

"Because if I don't have any beer, you won't be able to abuse your delicate system when you come over here."

"Really?"  He looks at me as though this is a crucial piece of information.  "You don't buy beer because you don't want me drinking it?"

"Yes.  I take my duties as your assistant seriously."

"That's -- that's what Sam calls subtext."

"What?"

"Sam--"  He hesitates and starts again.  "Sam and I spent a lot of time talking today.  He said some interesting things."

I'm sure this can't end well, but I have to know.  "Like what?"

"There's probably beer in Kathy's frig."

"Sam doesn't have a delicate system."

"Sam wouldn't drive to Kathy's at midnight if she didn't answer the phone."

"Kathy's married."

"Bonnie and Ginger didn't go drinking with the senior staff last night."  He takes a couple of steps toward me.

"Bonnie and Ginger had dates."  I seem to have moved closer to him.  I'm not sure how that happened.

"Carol doesn't banter with CJ."  How did his arm end up on my shoulder?

"Carol and CJ are both women.  Also straight."  And how did my arm end up around his waist?

"So you're saying that bantering is a sexual thing?" he asks.

"In certain circumstances, I'm told, some people might find it stimulating."

"Donna?"

"Yes, Josh?"  I think I am actually holding my breath, waiting for his next words.

"Did I really kiss you last night?"

"I don't know that it could technically be called a kiss."

He looks at me with this adorably confused expression on his face.  "How can you not know that?"

"Well, technically, you just sort of -- it wasn't much of -- no, you didn't kiss me."

"Are you certain?"

"You're my boss.  You did not kiss me."

"I seem to remember--"  His hand is sort of stroking my cheek; it feels entirely too good.  I shouldn't let him do that.

"You were too drunk to remember anything."  His hair is very soft when you touch it; you wouldn't expect that to look at it, would you?

"I would have sworn--"  Now he's stroking my arm.  Honestly, I have to put a stop to this before--

"Josh, there's something we need to talk about."

"Later."  He kisses me.  Not that little brush of lips from last night.  A substantial kiss.  The sort of kiss that you give someone when you're planning to--

I would never have an affair with Josh Lyman.  I wouldn't.  I've thought about it, and I've rejected the idea.

"Now, Josh."

He grins at me, the arrogant bastard.  "Was that 'now, Josh,' as in 'we have to talk now,' or 'now, Josh,' as in--"

"We have to talk now, Josh."  Don't make me laugh, you bastard.  How can you break my heart and make me laugh all at once?  What is wrong with you?

"Okay, so what do we have to talk about?"

Oh, God. I can't believe this.  I can't say it.  I can't tell him I'm leaving.

Of course, I might be able to say it if he'd only stop touching me.

Or not.

This is ridiculous.  I've made my decision about this issue.  I am not having an affair with Josh Lyman.

"Nothing important," I hear myself say.  "We talk way too much as it is."

"But I like hearing you talk."

Oh, just break my heart and get it over with, why don't you?

"Tomorrow.  We can talk about this tomorrow."

"Then what will we do tonight?"

"You're a Fulbright scholar.  I'm sure you can think of something."

And I kiss him back.  Because I am going to have an affair with Josh Lyman.

This can only end badly.  I mean, he's in love with Joey Lucas, and I'm going to leave DC in a few months anyway.  I'm destroying our relationship here; I know I am.  But to hell with it.

I adore Joshua Lyman, and I'm going to make love to him tonight.

To hell with the rest of it.

THE END

03.04.01