It's glorious.

For the past three weeks, since I found out about the Congressional Christmas party, I have surrounded myself with this music.  I drive to work listening to cassettes of Yo-Yo Ma playing Bach.  I clean my apartment and wash dishes to Yo-Yo Ma playing Vivaldi.  At work, I wear headphones while I type so I can listen to Handel as performed by -- you guessed it -- Yo-Yo Ma.

I should have studied cello instead of flute.

There is something transcendent about this music.  Yes, I know that's corny, but it's also true.  It makes you feel things you'd forgotten.  It makes you think about things that are important and true and -- here I go being even more corny -- life-affirming.

Josh should listen to this music.  I bet it would help him.

God knows I'm not doing him any good.  Despite my brave words and my best intentions, I haven't found a way to break through to him.  If anything, I feel as though I'm losing a little more of him every day.  He won't talk to me.

Josh won't talk to me.

Josh and I, we are all about the banter.  It's what we do.  I tried, as long as possible, to keep up the facade.  I've hit him with as much trivia about classical composers and/or Yo-Yo Ma lately as I could come up with.  He hasn't been responding.  That is, unless you consider avoiding me a response.  Today, I've been reduced to declaring "Yo-Yo Ma rules!" as we pass one another in the hallway.

"Yo-Yo Ma rules" -- Yes, I know how lame that sounds, but I don't give up easily.  I figure, if nothing else, eventually he'll get angry and start yelling at me.

That's right.  After weeks of bitching about the night he did yell at me (Say it with me, friends -- "self-worth"), I am longing for him to blow up.  Oh sure, he's yelling at everyone else these days, and that's not right.  But believe me when I tell you that it is not a good thing to be treated with indifference by the man you have finally admitted you love.

And he's still obsessing about that pilot.  Right now, for instance, I'm standing outside his office door, and I can see him looking over Robert Cano's folder yet again.

He seems to think he can discover the secrets of the universe if he just studies that file closely enough.

"Josh."

He doesn't even look at me.  "You've got the briefing memo on the Carpenter bill?"

"Yes."

"Just leave it on the desk."

Just leave it on the desk and go away, he means.

Instead, I put the memo on the desk and walk around to stand beside his chair.  I'm stubborn, you've got to give me that.

"What are you looking at?" I ask.

"Photos.  Obviously."

I'm close enough to get a good look at the photograph in his hand -- a man in an Air Force pilot's uniform with his arm around a pretty blonde woman.

"Is that him?  The pilot?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Who's she?"

"His fiancée."

Poor woman.  Imagine what she must be going through right now.

"He was engaged?" I ask.

"Obviously.  Don't you have some typing to do?"

I ignore that.  "Were they happy?"

"Gee, Donna, I guess not.  Considering that he preferred death to a lifetime with her."

"Yes, but they must have been happy once.  They look happy in this picture."

"I guess appearances are deceiving."  He puts the photos away and picks up the memo I brought in.  "Go away.  And for the love of God, will you close the door on your way out?"

When I get to the door, I decide to give it one last try.  "Josh?"

"What?"

"Yo-Yo Ma rules!"

He doesn't look up -- not even a hint of a response.

I sit down at my desk, put on my headphones and start back to work.  My mind, however, keeps straying to Robert Cano and his fiancée.  Despite Josh's opinion, I think they must have been happy.  The way he was looking at her -- he clearly adored her.  He had his arms around her so tightly, his head resting against her long blonde hair.

Her long blonde hair.

Oh, my God.

The dead man with Josh's birthday and the woman with my hair.

God, no.  Tell me Josh isn't thinking that too.

I turn the music up.  It's incredible.  You can't think about anything else when this music is playing.  You really can't. 

* * *

"I feel like Cinderella," I tell Bonnie and Ginger.

"If Cinderella were going to some really boring state function," Bonnie replies.

"In a dress she's worn five times," Ginger adds.

I twirl around to the waltz that's playing in my head.  "Laugh all you want," I tell them, "but this is going to be one of the best nights of my life.  Yo-Yo Ma!  And besides, I look good in this dress."

"You do," Ginger agrees.  "Which is just as well, considering that you bought it to wear to the Inaugural and you're still paying for it two years later."

"And Prince Charming hasn't even noticed it yet," Bonnie says.

"You've both got the wrong fairy tale," Ginger says.  "It's not Cinderella; it's Beauty and the Beast, given the way Prince Charming has been acting lately."

"There is no Prince Charming," I insist.  "I'm just referring to the fact that the lowly assistant is getting to go to the fancy dress ball."

"Of course," Bonnie answers.

"We know that," Ginger agrees.  I catch their reflections in the mirror as I'm putting on my lipstick.  They're smirking in a way that would do justice to Prince Charming himself.

After passing inspection, I leave the ladies' room where I'd made the change from lowly assistant to glamorous partygoer and head back to Josh's office.  Even when I'm working through these things, he insists on my fixing his tie for him.  He never can do it himself.

"What do you want?" he asks when he answers my knock.  He is completely dressed, right down to a perfect tie.  I am ridiculously disappointed.  The tune I was humming suddenly flies right out of my head.

He looks like hell.  Formal wear, as much as he hates it, becomes him; but tonight it can't make up for the circles under his eyes, the haunted look, the general air of a man falling apart.

What do I want?  I want Josh back.

"The party," I answer.  "I'm ready."

"I'm not.  You go on.  I left your ticket on your desk."

"But--"

"Something came up.  I'll see you there."

I had this fantasy:  Josh in white tie and tails, me in my silver gown.  There would be music.  I'd take his arm; and we'd walk together, just for a minute, as though we had every right to be a couple.

I'm old enough to recognize when a fantasy isn't going to come true.

"Right," I say.  "See you there."

It's only after I've picked up the ticket and left the bullpen that it hits me: indifference.  Josh wasn't angry, he wasn't trying to push me away again, he just didn't care about me.

"What happens," he asked me not that long ago, "when this doesn't mean anything any more?"  When, he meant, he stopped caring about me.

This is what happens, Josh:  I stop hearing music. 

* * * 

By the time I get to the party, I've pulled myself together.  I've convinced myself that I'm reading too much into Josh's state of mind.  I'm worrying needlessly; I'm seeing crises where none exist.

I'm in the same room with Yo-Yo Ma.  There will be music.  Everything will be fine.

Or that's how I feel until I check my ticket and find my assigned seat.  I'm in the back, as far as possible from Josh.

There's a mistake.  Josh will fix it.

He says something to CJ and takes his seat.  I go to him.

"Josh."

He looks up, clearly annoyed.  "What do you want?"

"This seat," I begin.  And then I look at his face.  I wasn't imagining things before.  Whatever else is there, the thing I'm used to seeing in Josh's eyes is gone.  That look, the one that always said I was the person he had the most fun with, that's vanished.  Now I'm just his assistant, and I'm annoying him while he's trying to work.

"I just wanted to thank you for getting me the ticket," I finish.

"You should take your seat," he says.  "The president will be speaking in just a minute."

I nod and go back to my seat.  I've lost him.  How can I fight for him when I don't matter to him any more?

The concert starts while I'm asking myself these questions.  I miss the first few notes.  And then the music -- I hear it.  So perfectly.  So clearly.

It's amazing.  Honestly.  Infinitely better even than the recordings.  I let the music take over my emotions and my body and I just get swept up in it.

And I understand.  It's so clear now.

This music -- it's like the strongest emotions.  It's pure and it's simple and it never, ever ends.

Sort of like the way Josh and I have cared about each other from the beginning.  Corny as that sounds.

I can't see Josh from where I'm sitting, but I hope he understands that too.

Just listen to the music, Josh.

It's glorious.

Just forget everything else and listen.

I'm going to have this music stuck in my head for weeks.

Thank God.

THE END

12.27.00