"It's Saturday night," Donna observed.

"Uh-huh," Josh replied, his attention focused on the sight of a baseball bouncing off a 37-foot wall.

"It is 9:24 on a Saturday night," Donna continued as she looked at her watch.  Her tone of voice was one that normally would have caused Josh some concern.  "It's is 9:24 on that rare Saturday night when we don't have to work.  Yet what are we doing?"

Josh turned away from the sight of Catherine Zeta-Jones hawking cell phone service.  "We're watching the game," he said, smiling.  "We are sharing this historic moment."

"When the president was elected, we shared that historic moment.  We have, in fact, shared six years' worth of historic moments.  I can recognize a historic moment when I see one.  This, Idiot Boy, is not a historic moment."

"The Sox are in the series."  Josh's tone implied that the historic nature of this event should have been evident to anyone.  "That's history."

"That is a question on Jeopardy next season."  Donna propped her feet on the coffee table.  "Category: Major League Baseball.  Answer:  This team won the 2004 World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals.  Question:  Who are the Boston Red Sox?"

Josh turned his attention from the TV, a look of horror on his face.  "Don't say that word!"

"What word?"

"The w word.  Don't ever, ever say that word.  Go outside right now and spit and curse and—"

"It's 30 degrees outside."

"You can never be too careful."

"I'm not going outside," Donna announced.  She did, however, indicate her displeasure by moving from her seat next to Josh on the couch.  She plopped down on the armchair across from him, frowning as it became clear that Josh was more interested in some guy walking to first base than to her.

As the announcer proclaimed that "the Cards are still in it," Josh groaned, covering his face with his hands.

Finally looking up at her, he moaned, "You jinxed it.  You had to say that word, didn't you?  And now it's 7-5."

"So?  Your team is still ahead."

"You just don't get it.  It's the Red Sox.  They delight in breaking my heart."

"I thought it was the Democratic Party that delighted in breaking your heart," she replied.  Josh, however, was too focused on the commentary about a player throwing an elbow to respond to her remark.

"You were so going to get lucky tonight," she continued.  Josh didn't reply; apparently, he found Johnny Damon more intriguing than the possibility of getting laid.  "Now that's not going to happen.  It's a shame really."

Josh nodded absently.  "A real shame," he said.  "We're going to lose.  I can feel it.  Forty years of watching the Sox.  You develop a sixth sense for these things."

"I bought something special at Victoria's Secret.  I was going to model it for you tonight.  It's red.  In honor of your team."

"Good," Josh murmured, his attention riveted on the Cardinals player at bat.

As the player struck out, Josh leapt from his seat, shouting, "That is how we do it in Boston, baby!"

"You're from Connecticut."

"It's a figure of speech," he said as he headed toward the kitchen.  "A show of solidarity."  Donna shook her head and turned her attention to the commercials.

"Remember the guy who used to be called Wild Thing?" the voice-over asked.

"Now that is what I call irony," she pointed out as Josh returned from the kitchen and handed her another beer.

"What?" Josh asked anxiously.  "Did something happen while I was gone?"

"No, your team is still wi—"

"Do not say it!"

"Right.  Whatever was I thinking?"

Several minutes passed with only the announcer narrating the details of Bronson Arroyo's father's kidney operation and making small talk about Willard Scott.  Donna finally broke the silence.

"It's bikini cut," she said, apparently to herself since Josh wasn't listening.  "And the top has this lace around the edge.  The top's held together with this little bit of ribbon in front.  I had this idea that maybe you'd kind of flick you finger against it and it would just come undone.  It looks that flimsy."  She studied Josh's fingers, which were tapping a nervous rhythm against the arms of the couch.  Unfortunately, his nerves were clearly caused by the Cardinals' latest hit and not by the thought of her naked body.

"Tied!" Josh groaned.  He stood up and began to pace.  "Why the hell do these things happen to us?"

"I believe you told me it was because the Red Sox traded Babe—"

"Don't say that name!" Josh shouted.  "Do you want us to lose?"

"I didn't realize that saying his name was bad luck."

"The score is tied.  You can't take chances at a moment like this."  He sat back down on the edge of the couch as the Sox struck out.

"I painted my toenails red, you know," Donna said.  "To match the outfit.  I was going to stand there with my top undone, with my red bikini and my crimson toenails, and I was going to wrap my arms around you.  And then I was going to whisper in your ear that, since it's a special night for you and all, I'd be willing to do anything you wanted."  She paused to let that last thought sink in, not that Josh had heard a word she was saying.  "Your wildest fantasy, Josh.  Something you've never even told me.  Just pick a fantasy, and it's yours."

She thought maybe that would get his attention, especially since there was nothing on screen except a reality show contestant singing "God Bless America," but Josh had his cell phone out and was punching a number.

"It's too painful to watch, Mom," he told the person on the other end of the line.  "I can't take two more innings of this."

Donna turned as crimson as her nail polish as she realized that she'd been talking about sexual fantasies while Josh was calling Adira Lyman.

"Yeah," Josh continued in answer to something his mother had said.  "I know, but—Oh my god, did you see that?  8-7!  Gotta go, Mom!"

"Did it occur to you that I might have wanted to say hello to your mother?

Since the score was now 9-7, she didn't really expect an answer.

Baseball, she decided, was a ridiculously long game.  She gave up when she discovered that it was 11 p.m., and the eighth inning was yet to start.  She settled back on the couch, resting her head against Josh's chest.  She had almost succeeded in falling asleep when Josh yelled, "Son of a bitch!" and jumped up as though he was suddenly possessed by the urge to drive to Fenway Park and pick up a bat himself.

Donna muttered a few profanities of her own as she steadied herself against the couch.  Josh was standing still, his body tensed, as the game progressed.  Donna began to make a sarcastic comment, but then an amazing thing happened:  The Cardinals scored again, and she actually started watching the game.

"Oh my god," she whispered, "it's tied."

"I know."

"They've been ahead.  They've been ahead for hours, and now it's tied."  Almost automatically, Donna stood up, clutching Josh's hand.

"This is the kind of thing that happens," he explained.

"They can't lose!  How can they lose?  They were winning!  They can't lose now, can they?"

"It's a possibility," Josh admitted.

Donna stood there, telling herself that the only reason she cared was because it was no fun to watch Josh be disappointed.

"I cannot deal with this," she said, but she couldn't bring herself to turn away from the screen.

Josh looked at her, grinning even though his team was behind.

"Welcome to my world," he told her.

THE END

10.23.04