TWW Ficlet: Just Once
Fandom: The West Wing
Title: Just Once
Rated: R
Pairings: Josh/Ronna, Josh/Donna
Notes: Uh. Not a happy story. But, I think, a realistic one. Spoilers through current place in season 6.
[ just once ]
by kHo
So of course, tonight is when it happens.
I’m standing here, having a perfectly nice, innocent conversation with Ronna, and I’m maybe flirting a little bit. I know for damn sure she is. I mean, I know I’m not the best person to ask if you want to know if someone’s into you or not (okay, the absolute worst person to ask, then) but I can tell. We’re standing outside of our hotel rooms talking, as hers is right across the hall from mine. We have been for ten minutes now.
At first it was ‘so, about tomorrow’ talk, but then it turned to ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this well’ and ‘where did you learn all this about politics’ and ‘I wonder what position I’lll have on the staff in the White House.’ Her speaking, not me. I don’t believe in putting the cart before the horse. And man, you shoulda seen the dubious look she sent my way when I told her to go outside, spin around three times, and spit.
So I’m leaning against the wall next to her room and I’m smiling what is probably the easiest smile I’ve smiled in a really long time. I haven’t had all that many things to be happy about lately. And I guess that’s where the main attraction is to Ronna. She’s easy. And no, you sick minded person, I do not mean easy to get into bed. I mean easy. Laid back. She’s got this sweet southern charm and this shy, always-there smile, and she’ll talk about just about anything. She one of those types that when she’s talking to you, she looks you in the eye, and you know that you’re the only one she’s listening to.
But that’s now how I know she’s interested in me. I know she’s interested in me because of the way she looks at me. I’ve caught her checking me out, hard as that may be to believe. On the bus, at the bar, and now, every once in a while she lets her eyes slip over my body, and I gotta say. It’s doing things to me. She looks me in the eyes, she laughs at the things I say that I know are more lame than they are funny, she touches me when she talks to me. And every once in a while, she gives me one of those smiles. You know the ones, guys. That smile that says ‘right now I’m picturing you kissing me, and I’m liking it.’ One of those.
So, I’m using what little game I have to perpetuate the situation, because the past few months have been abso-fuckin-lutely excruciating. So yeah, maybe it’s wrong of me to flirt with Ronna. Maybe it’s betraying Donna, though I really don’t see how. I’ve heard rumors, you know. I’ve heard rumors about her and Hoynes’ man (and that’ s just, honestly, sick.. the man’s a putz if I ever saw one). I’ve heard rumors about her and Will. And that one? That one hurts. Because there was a time I actually liked Will. It’s been a while now, but recently I’d begun to sort of like him again. He’s not happy with the way Russell is, and I’ve been able to see that in his eyes recently, and now he’s probably, maybe fucking Donna and. Well. It hurts.
So fine. Call me an asshole. Sing me a song about my cheating heart. Ronna makes me feel happy for 2 seconds out of the day, and I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I feel guilty sometimes, but then I just get pissed off, because you’re forgetting. Donna left me. Not the other way around. So if I want to flirt with Ronna, I can. If I want to smile at her, and tell her jokes, and do just about everything in my power to get her to laugh (because her laugh is kinda adorable), then I’ll do that. Because fuck it. I’ll deal with the nagging in the back of my head later, that voice telling me this might hurt Donna that won’t shut up before I go to sleep. Why should I care? I do care, but seriously… why should I?
So Ronna looks up at me and she smiles that smile at me, the one I was talking about before, and I’m pretty sure my smile matches it because the air around us changes. It’s no longer two people standing in the hall talking, it’s two people at the end of a date. And no, we haven’t gone on a date, there’s not exactly time for a date when you’re on the campaign trail. But it’s the same vibe, because I’m wondering whether or not to kiss her, and she’s waiting for me to decide. So I do. I lean over, I grab a strand of her hair, I smile softly at her, and I kiss her.
It’s a slow kiss. It’s not filled with heat and passion. It’s a first kiss. It’s a kiss with no background. A first date, goodnight at the door, kind of kiss. It’s nice though. There’s definitely something there between us. I can feel it in my blood, there’s something. It only lasts for about a minute, and there weren’t even tongues involved, and when we stop she pulls back with her eyes still closed and the sweetest smile on her face. She reaches out and tugs on my tie and says ‘that was nice,’ and she’s absolutely right. I’m actually kind of walking on clouds right now. And because I have to see her in the morning, because I have to spend the next 5 months and possibly 4 to 8 years with her, I say goodnight and go back to my hotel room. Because I don’t need to ruin it by being impatient.
Five minutes. That’s exactly how long my jubilation lasts. It’s five minutes longer than it has been in a long time, but it’s still not long enough. Five minutes. That’s how long it starts for that nagging in the back of my head to start up. Donna would be hurt. You love Donna, what are you doing? Why are you fucking around with Ronna when Donna’s still out there? Ronna will never compare to Donna, no matter how sweet she is, no matter how similar their names are. And most of all, why are you willing to fuck around with a coworker on the campaign trail to a new presidency, when you weren’t willing to with Donna, whom you love? Huh? Answer me that, asshole. My subconscious is a nasty, arrogant little prick isn’t he? Gets it from me, I guess.
So, with the heaviness settling in my chest, with the panic starting to set in, I start undressing and getting ready for bed. I’d thought maybe I’d get to keep that feeling until I went to sleep. I thought maybe that one ray of sunshine could carry me through to just one more day. It didn’t. I sit down on my bed, my chest constricting in that oh so damned familiar panic thing it likes to do, and I try to control my breathing. And before I know it, I’m two seconds away from crying, because God damnit, this isn’t fair. I’m a good guy. I’ve done things badly in my past, yes. I’ve fucked things up. I’ve treated people wrong. But basically, at the heart of it, I’m a good guy. I think I deserve one fucking day of happiness. God, it seems, does not agree.
And that’s when it happens. My world turns upside down.
I’m in my boxers and a t-shirt, pulling down the covers of my bed, when there’s a knock at my door. I panic for about three seconds thinking it might be Ronna, because I can’t see her right now. I’ll fuck it all up if I have to see her right now. They knock again though, and I have to answer the door. I get to the door and I hear Ronna’s voice, and I almost don’t turn the knob. Then, I hear another female’s voice, and if that’s not Donna, then I just don’t know anything about anything. I open the door and I’m met with the sight of Donna standing there in front of my door, and Ronna saying hey to her. Shit on a biscuit.
“Donna,” I say, and right now I’m looking at Ronna. Because this isn’t fair.
Ronna smiles at me and I turn my attention back to Donna. “Hey,” Donna says, averting her eyes to the floor. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure,” I say, looking back at Ronna.
“Can I come in,” Donna asks, looking up at me.
“Uh,” I say, and wow. Aren’t I articulate when faced with an uncomfortable situation? “Yeah.”
She darts past me into my room and I’m left to stare at Ronna and resist the urge to apologize. She looks sad, and I can just tell. She knows. She’s always known there was something there with Donna and me. She would hint at me to tell her, but I never did, and she never pushed. I look at her, and I feel like the biggest heel at that moment, because everything in me wants to go in my room and talk to Donna. But I kissed her tonight. And she’s watching another woman, a woman she knows I have a history with, walking into my room. She smiles at me though, and then she blows my mind.
“Good luck, Josh,” she whispers.
My mouth hangs open. “What?”
She laughs. “Get in there. Good luck.” She looks at me, standing there like a dolt, for about another thirty seconds. “Say thank you, Josh.”
My hand comes up to cover my mouth, because I’m so completely torn right now. That is the most selfless, sweet thing I have seen a person do in… well, God. Maybe ever. “Thank you.” She walks into her room and shuts the door and I turn around to face Donna, still holding the door open. “Hey.”
Donna smiles. “Hey.”
Finally I shut the door behind me. “So, uh… what’s up?”
She points towards the hallway. “What’s her name again? Ronna?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“She’s sweet,” Donna says, smiling and looking at the floor. “She seems sweet.”
I nod. “She is. What do you want?”
I know, I know, it was harsh. It was abrupt, and blunt. I can’t help it. My mind is not functioning right now. Donna is in my hotel room at 1 o’clock in the morning, I just kissed Ronna ten minutes ago, and Ronna just told me good luck. It’s not exactly the most common situation we’re dealing with here.
Donna takes a deep breath and looks at me. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
I sigh and walk over to my bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “Okay. You finally want to talk about this, then talk.”
She shakes her head and faces me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I frown in confusion. “You don’t.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “No.”
I lift my shoulders in confusion. “Then why are you here?”
She squares her shoulders, walks over to where I’m sitting on the bed, puts her hands on my face, and kisses me. She doesn’t wait for me to respond, she doesn’t wait to see if I’m kissing her back. (Of course I’m kissing her back. Of course I am.) She opens her mouth and shoves her tongue in my mouth, and lowers herself to sitting in my lap. This is Donna. Donna, sitting on my lap, kissing me. I’m breaking here. I’ve wanted this for too long. I’ve dreamed of this for too damned long. I’ve loved her too fucking much. It’s been too painful these past few months. I’m kissing her, and I’m crying, and it’s too confusing.
I pull back and look at her. “Donna.”
“Shut up,” she says, and she kisses me again, pushing me down on the bed. Her hands are working on the buttons to her shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it off. I can’t seem to do anything, at all, except kiss her back.
“Wait,” I say.
“Shut up, Josh,” she says, pulling her shirt off and undoing her bra. The sight of her breasts render me completely speechless, and then she’s leaning over me again and her hand is delving into my boxers. Her hands are kind of cold, so I jump, but they warm up quick enough as I grow completely and utterly hard.
Then she’s yanking down my boxers and standing and unzipping her jeans, leaving them and her panties on a puddle on the floor. I’ve got a very naked Donna standing before me, and she’s leaning over to yank off my shirt, and then she’s devouring me. I’m sorry, that’s the only word for it. She’s devouring me with her tongue and her hands and her body. I can’t think, I can’t move, I can’t speak. Which is just as well, because she wouldn’t let me speak anyway, and she seems completely content to do all the work for herself.
And it’s not perfect. It’s hurried, and rushed, but it’s still beautiful. It’s Donna. It’s Donna and me, the way it always should have been. I’m inside her, and she’s on top of me, and I’m muttering how much I love her and she’s kissing me and we’re making love. And my confusion, my panic, my depression over the last few months, is turning out to be a good thing because I don’t come as quickly as I’ve been known to on some occasions. I don’t come until she has, as she’s moaning and shuddering and biting my shoulder.
Then she’s curling up into a ball against my chest and I’m running my fingers through her hair, and I’m filled with love, and happiness, and with the feeling of everything finally for once being right. I kiss her forehead and smile. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Shhh,” she says, kissing my chest and burrowing her head into the crook of my neck. “Go to sleep.”
“I love you,” I whisper, closing my eyes as I feel the tears starting to come again. “I’m sorry, Donna. For everything. I love you.”
“Shhh,” she says again, stroking her hand down my chest, her other through my hair. “Sleep.”
I go to sleep feeling satiated, and content. Full, almost, like I’ve had a satisfying meal. Donna is in my arms and all is right with the world and Josh is happy. I sleep without dreams, and I sleep hard, and I sleep until 6:30 when there’s a whole lot of knocking going on at my door. I open my eyes and that’s when I get it. Donna’s not there. She’s not in my arms, she’s not in the bathroom, she’s not anywhere to be found. I’m standing in the middle of my room, Ronna outside my door calling that the buses are leaving in ten minutes and to get my ass in gear, and the world cracks.
I call to her to give me five minutes and I dive into my bed, reaching for the phone. “Donna Moss’ room, please,” I say, unable to breathe.
“I’m sorry sir, she checked out last night.”
And there it is.
I pack my stuff, and I’m numb. Last night was the most wonderful night of my life, and this, my friends, is the worst day known to mankind. The night after the night before. I pack my shit, I pull on my clothes, I walk to the door, and I walk out into the hall and am immediately faced with Ronna.
“Hey,” she says tentatively, looking me over quietly. It’s not that look this time. It’s the other kind. It’s the ‘you’ve been run over by a truck’ look.
I try my damnedest, I really do, to smile at her. “Hey.”
She points to my room. “Is Donna…”
I shake my head and my throat closes over. “She, uh…” And I don’t continue. I can’t. My voice cracked on the uh, and if I continue I’ll burst into sobs right here in this hallway. “No.”
She looks at me, and the sympathy in her eyes is enough to make me have to look away. “Alright,” she says, reaching down and grabbing one of my bags, hooking an arm through mine. “So we move on.”
I look at her, because there is no way she’s so cool about this. “Ronna… I’m sorry about--”
She smiles at me. “We move on, Josh,” she said, pulling me down the hall to the elevator. “And even if it’s not that easy, it doesn’t matter, because seriously… the bus is waiting.”
We stand in the elevator and I watch her in the reflective metal of the room number panel. “Ronna, I am,” I say, looking down. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs, turning to face me. “It’s not like you planned it, Josh. You obviously love her.” She shrugs. “I’m just sorry it didn’t turn out well.”
I look at her and I shake my head, because I don’t get it. Where’s the cattiness? Where’s the jealousy? It’s not there. It’s not there in her voice, it’s not there in her words, and it’s not there in her eyes. So I lean over and I kiss her on her cheek. “Thanks.”
She smiles and picks up my bag again, leaving me to the heavier one. “It’s a long bus ride, Josh,” she says, turning backwards to look at me as we make our way to the Santos for President bus. “Let’s get it on the road, huh?” And I can’t help but smile back.
I don’t know if Ronna and I will ever take up where we left off last night. I know I’m not in the right place to. But it doesn’t matter. Know why? Because I got a friend at the end of it, and really, I guess that’s all that matters.
As far as Ronna is concerned anyway. Donna on the other hand.
Well. That’s just too painful to contemplate.
Title: Just Once
Rated: R
Pairings: Josh/Ronna, Josh/Donna
Notes: Uh. Not a happy story. But, I think, a realistic one. Spoilers through current place in season 6.
[ just once ]
by kHo
So of course, tonight is when it happens.
I’m standing here, having a perfectly nice, innocent conversation with Ronna, and I’m maybe flirting a little bit. I know for damn sure she is. I mean, I know I’m not the best person to ask if you want to know if someone’s into you or not (okay, the absolute worst person to ask, then) but I can tell. We’re standing outside of our hotel rooms talking, as hers is right across the hall from mine. We have been for ten minutes now.
At first it was ‘so, about tomorrow’ talk, but then it turned to ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this well’ and ‘where did you learn all this about politics’ and ‘I wonder what position I’lll have on the staff in the White House.’ Her speaking, not me. I don’t believe in putting the cart before the horse. And man, you shoulda seen the dubious look she sent my way when I told her to go outside, spin around three times, and spit.
So I’m leaning against the wall next to her room and I’m smiling what is probably the easiest smile I’ve smiled in a really long time. I haven’t had all that many things to be happy about lately. And I guess that’s where the main attraction is to Ronna. She’s easy. And no, you sick minded person, I do not mean easy to get into bed. I mean easy. Laid back. She’s got this sweet southern charm and this shy, always-there smile, and she’ll talk about just about anything. She one of those types that when she’s talking to you, she looks you in the eye, and you know that you’re the only one she’s listening to.
But that’s now how I know she’s interested in me. I know she’s interested in me because of the way she looks at me. I’ve caught her checking me out, hard as that may be to believe. On the bus, at the bar, and now, every once in a while she lets her eyes slip over my body, and I gotta say. It’s doing things to me. She looks me in the eyes, she laughs at the things I say that I know are more lame than they are funny, she touches me when she talks to me. And every once in a while, she gives me one of those smiles. You know the ones, guys. That smile that says ‘right now I’m picturing you kissing me, and I’m liking it.’ One of those.
So, I’m using what little game I have to perpetuate the situation, because the past few months have been abso-fuckin-lutely excruciating. So yeah, maybe it’s wrong of me to flirt with Ronna. Maybe it’s betraying Donna, though I really don’t see how. I’ve heard rumors, you know. I’ve heard rumors about her and Hoynes’ man (and that’ s just, honestly, sick.. the man’s a putz if I ever saw one). I’ve heard rumors about her and Will. And that one? That one hurts. Because there was a time I actually liked Will. It’s been a while now, but recently I’d begun to sort of like him again. He’s not happy with the way Russell is, and I’ve been able to see that in his eyes recently, and now he’s probably, maybe fucking Donna and. Well. It hurts.
So fine. Call me an asshole. Sing me a song about my cheating heart. Ronna makes me feel happy for 2 seconds out of the day, and I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I feel guilty sometimes, but then I just get pissed off, because you’re forgetting. Donna left me. Not the other way around. So if I want to flirt with Ronna, I can. If I want to smile at her, and tell her jokes, and do just about everything in my power to get her to laugh (because her laugh is kinda adorable), then I’ll do that. Because fuck it. I’ll deal with the nagging in the back of my head later, that voice telling me this might hurt Donna that won’t shut up before I go to sleep. Why should I care? I do care, but seriously… why should I?
So Ronna looks up at me and she smiles that smile at me, the one I was talking about before, and I’m pretty sure my smile matches it because the air around us changes. It’s no longer two people standing in the hall talking, it’s two people at the end of a date. And no, we haven’t gone on a date, there’s not exactly time for a date when you’re on the campaign trail. But it’s the same vibe, because I’m wondering whether or not to kiss her, and she’s waiting for me to decide. So I do. I lean over, I grab a strand of her hair, I smile softly at her, and I kiss her.
It’s a slow kiss. It’s not filled with heat and passion. It’s a first kiss. It’s a kiss with no background. A first date, goodnight at the door, kind of kiss. It’s nice though. There’s definitely something there between us. I can feel it in my blood, there’s something. It only lasts for about a minute, and there weren’t even tongues involved, and when we stop she pulls back with her eyes still closed and the sweetest smile on her face. She reaches out and tugs on my tie and says ‘that was nice,’ and she’s absolutely right. I’m actually kind of walking on clouds right now. And because I have to see her in the morning, because I have to spend the next 5 months and possibly 4 to 8 years with her, I say goodnight and go back to my hotel room. Because I don’t need to ruin it by being impatient.
Five minutes. That’s exactly how long my jubilation lasts. It’s five minutes longer than it has been in a long time, but it’s still not long enough. Five minutes. That’s how long it starts for that nagging in the back of my head to start up. Donna would be hurt. You love Donna, what are you doing? Why are you fucking around with Ronna when Donna’s still out there? Ronna will never compare to Donna, no matter how sweet she is, no matter how similar their names are. And most of all, why are you willing to fuck around with a coworker on the campaign trail to a new presidency, when you weren’t willing to with Donna, whom you love? Huh? Answer me that, asshole. My subconscious is a nasty, arrogant little prick isn’t he? Gets it from me, I guess.
So, with the heaviness settling in my chest, with the panic starting to set in, I start undressing and getting ready for bed. I’d thought maybe I’d get to keep that feeling until I went to sleep. I thought maybe that one ray of sunshine could carry me through to just one more day. It didn’t. I sit down on my bed, my chest constricting in that oh so damned familiar panic thing it likes to do, and I try to control my breathing. And before I know it, I’m two seconds away from crying, because God damnit, this isn’t fair. I’m a good guy. I’ve done things badly in my past, yes. I’ve fucked things up. I’ve treated people wrong. But basically, at the heart of it, I’m a good guy. I think I deserve one fucking day of happiness. God, it seems, does not agree.
And that’s when it happens. My world turns upside down.
I’m in my boxers and a t-shirt, pulling down the covers of my bed, when there’s a knock at my door. I panic for about three seconds thinking it might be Ronna, because I can’t see her right now. I’ll fuck it all up if I have to see her right now. They knock again though, and I have to answer the door. I get to the door and I hear Ronna’s voice, and I almost don’t turn the knob. Then, I hear another female’s voice, and if that’s not Donna, then I just don’t know anything about anything. I open the door and I’m met with the sight of Donna standing there in front of my door, and Ronna saying hey to her. Shit on a biscuit.
“Donna,” I say, and right now I’m looking at Ronna. Because this isn’t fair.
Ronna smiles at me and I turn my attention back to Donna. “Hey,” Donna says, averting her eyes to the floor. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure,” I say, looking back at Ronna.
“Can I come in,” Donna asks, looking up at me.
“Uh,” I say, and wow. Aren’t I articulate when faced with an uncomfortable situation? “Yeah.”
She darts past me into my room and I’m left to stare at Ronna and resist the urge to apologize. She looks sad, and I can just tell. She knows. She’s always known there was something there with Donna and me. She would hint at me to tell her, but I never did, and she never pushed. I look at her, and I feel like the biggest heel at that moment, because everything in me wants to go in my room and talk to Donna. But I kissed her tonight. And she’s watching another woman, a woman she knows I have a history with, walking into my room. She smiles at me though, and then she blows my mind.
“Good luck, Josh,” she whispers.
My mouth hangs open. “What?”
She laughs. “Get in there. Good luck.” She looks at me, standing there like a dolt, for about another thirty seconds. “Say thank you, Josh.”
My hand comes up to cover my mouth, because I’m so completely torn right now. That is the most selfless, sweet thing I have seen a person do in… well, God. Maybe ever. “Thank you.” She walks into her room and shuts the door and I turn around to face Donna, still holding the door open. “Hey.”
Donna smiles. “Hey.”
Finally I shut the door behind me. “So, uh… what’s up?”
She points towards the hallway. “What’s her name again? Ronna?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“She’s sweet,” Donna says, smiling and looking at the floor. “She seems sweet.”
I nod. “She is. What do you want?”
I know, I know, it was harsh. It was abrupt, and blunt. I can’t help it. My mind is not functioning right now. Donna is in my hotel room at 1 o’clock in the morning, I just kissed Ronna ten minutes ago, and Ronna just told me good luck. It’s not exactly the most common situation we’re dealing with here.
Donna takes a deep breath and looks at me. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
I sigh and walk over to my bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “Okay. You finally want to talk about this, then talk.”
She shakes her head and faces me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I frown in confusion. “You don’t.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “No.”
I lift my shoulders in confusion. “Then why are you here?”
She squares her shoulders, walks over to where I’m sitting on the bed, puts her hands on my face, and kisses me. She doesn’t wait for me to respond, she doesn’t wait to see if I’m kissing her back. (Of course I’m kissing her back. Of course I am.) She opens her mouth and shoves her tongue in my mouth, and lowers herself to sitting in my lap. This is Donna. Donna, sitting on my lap, kissing me. I’m breaking here. I’ve wanted this for too long. I’ve dreamed of this for too damned long. I’ve loved her too fucking much. It’s been too painful these past few months. I’m kissing her, and I’m crying, and it’s too confusing.
I pull back and look at her. “Donna.”
“Shut up,” she says, and she kisses me again, pushing me down on the bed. Her hands are working on the buttons to her shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling it off. I can’t seem to do anything, at all, except kiss her back.
“Wait,” I say.
“Shut up, Josh,” she says, pulling her shirt off and undoing her bra. The sight of her breasts render me completely speechless, and then she’s leaning over me again and her hand is delving into my boxers. Her hands are kind of cold, so I jump, but they warm up quick enough as I grow completely and utterly hard.
Then she’s yanking down my boxers and standing and unzipping her jeans, leaving them and her panties on a puddle on the floor. I’ve got a very naked Donna standing before me, and she’s leaning over to yank off my shirt, and then she’s devouring me. I’m sorry, that’s the only word for it. She’s devouring me with her tongue and her hands and her body. I can’t think, I can’t move, I can’t speak. Which is just as well, because she wouldn’t let me speak anyway, and she seems completely content to do all the work for herself.
And it’s not perfect. It’s hurried, and rushed, but it’s still beautiful. It’s Donna. It’s Donna and me, the way it always should have been. I’m inside her, and she’s on top of me, and I’m muttering how much I love her and she’s kissing me and we’re making love. And my confusion, my panic, my depression over the last few months, is turning out to be a good thing because I don’t come as quickly as I’ve been known to on some occasions. I don’t come until she has, as she’s moaning and shuddering and biting my shoulder.
Then she’s curling up into a ball against my chest and I’m running my fingers through her hair, and I’m filled with love, and happiness, and with the feeling of everything finally for once being right. I kiss her forehead and smile. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Shhh,” she says, kissing my chest and burrowing her head into the crook of my neck. “Go to sleep.”
“I love you,” I whisper, closing my eyes as I feel the tears starting to come again. “I’m sorry, Donna. For everything. I love you.”
“Shhh,” she says again, stroking her hand down my chest, her other through my hair. “Sleep.”
I go to sleep feeling satiated, and content. Full, almost, like I’ve had a satisfying meal. Donna is in my arms and all is right with the world and Josh is happy. I sleep without dreams, and I sleep hard, and I sleep until 6:30 when there’s a whole lot of knocking going on at my door. I open my eyes and that’s when I get it. Donna’s not there. She’s not in my arms, she’s not in the bathroom, she’s not anywhere to be found. I’m standing in the middle of my room, Ronna outside my door calling that the buses are leaving in ten minutes and to get my ass in gear, and the world cracks.
I call to her to give me five minutes and I dive into my bed, reaching for the phone. “Donna Moss’ room, please,” I say, unable to breathe.
“I’m sorry sir, she checked out last night.”
And there it is.
I pack my stuff, and I’m numb. Last night was the most wonderful night of my life, and this, my friends, is the worst day known to mankind. The night after the night before. I pack my shit, I pull on my clothes, I walk to the door, and I walk out into the hall and am immediately faced with Ronna.
“Hey,” she says tentatively, looking me over quietly. It’s not that look this time. It’s the other kind. It’s the ‘you’ve been run over by a truck’ look.
I try my damnedest, I really do, to smile at her. “Hey.”
She points to my room. “Is Donna…”
I shake my head and my throat closes over. “She, uh…” And I don’t continue. I can’t. My voice cracked on the uh, and if I continue I’ll burst into sobs right here in this hallway. “No.”
She looks at me, and the sympathy in her eyes is enough to make me have to look away. “Alright,” she says, reaching down and grabbing one of my bags, hooking an arm through mine. “So we move on.”
I look at her, because there is no way she’s so cool about this. “Ronna… I’m sorry about--”
She smiles at me. “We move on, Josh,” she said, pulling me down the hall to the elevator. “And even if it’s not that easy, it doesn’t matter, because seriously… the bus is waiting.”
We stand in the elevator and I watch her in the reflective metal of the room number panel. “Ronna, I am,” I say, looking down. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs, turning to face me. “It’s not like you planned it, Josh. You obviously love her.” She shrugs. “I’m just sorry it didn’t turn out well.”
I look at her and I shake my head, because I don’t get it. Where’s the cattiness? Where’s the jealousy? It’s not there. It’s not there in her voice, it’s not there in her words, and it’s not there in her eyes. So I lean over and I kiss her on her cheek. “Thanks.”
She smiles and picks up my bag again, leaving me to the heavier one. “It’s a long bus ride, Josh,” she says, turning backwards to look at me as we make our way to the Santos for President bus. “Let’s get it on the road, huh?” And I can’t help but smile back.
I don’t know if Ronna and I will ever take up where we left off last night. I know I’m not in the right place to. But it doesn’t matter. Know why? Because I got a friend at the end of it, and really, I guess that’s all that matters.
As far as Ronna is concerned anyway. Donna on the other hand.
Well. That’s just too painful to contemplate.