Chapter Text
Why is it that all the good men are either married, gay or fictional?
Take Irving Hackenbush, for example.
No, Irving is not married. Despite Josh's frequently expressed opinion that Irving behaves exactly the way Josh himself would if he were a married man pretending to be single.
This, of course, makes me very suspicious of Josh, not of Irving.
Nor is Irving gay. Again, I beg you not to listen to Josh. I have heard Josh's remarks about what he coyly refers to as Irving's "affectations." They're not affectations, and they do not imply what Josh wants you to think they do. I maintain that I know Irving more intimately than Josh does; I would have noticed if something was, well, off. Josh is just jealous.
However, I cannot deny this fact: Irving Hackenbush is very much a fictional character.
And since he helped me create Irving in the first place, I have no idea why Josh is jealous of him.
***
I've been walking on eggshells with Donna for the past month, since my return from Nantucket. Stanley suggests every week that I may be going too far with this, but I'm determined not to do anything to bother or inconvenience her. I haven't asked her to stay late. I haven't piled on the work. I haven't even really talked to her recently.
I mean, we talk. We talk every day. But always about work stuff. And Donna has ceased with her outpourings of arcane knowledge, which I really do miss.
Stanley says I should tell her that. I disagree, because on the plus side, I haven't done anything to hurt her. That's the way it needs to stay. And so I continue with this farce, this pseudo-professional decorum, and every day it feels like Donnatella Moss is slipping away from me.
I want nothing more than to grab her and beg her not to give up on me, but I promised myself I wouldn't hurt her again. I promised her I wouldn't hurt her again. So I just, you know, suffer in silence.
I'm really not great at the suffering in silence thing, but I do my best.
So who would have thought that Donna getting herself a boyfriend would make me feel better? I mean, really, it's an absurd idea.
When I first learned of Irving Hackenbush's existence, I felt awful, like my worst fears were being realized. And then I felt... better.
Amazingly, astoundingly better.
***
It's been a month since Josh returned from his self-imposed exile in Nantucket, and we're no closer to resolving matters than we were the day he got back. In some respects, we're actually farther apart than we were that day.
There has been no more physical contact. No kissing, no touching me when we walk down the halls of the West Wing together, and certainly nothing more intimate. I am reaching levels of sexual frustration previously unexperienced by womankind here.
Even more disturbing, Josh is being polite to me. Also distant. No barking "Donnatella Moss!" at all hours of the day. (I have ceased being "Donnatella" altogether; it's just plain "Donna" these days. Give us another month, and I may be demoted to "Ms. Moss." No hyphen.) No talking me into working ungodly hours with him. No bantering. We are all business. We are practically strangers.
I am beginning to feel divorced.
In an effort to remind myself that a non-divorce divorce is not the real thing, I am in the ladies room, looking at my wedding ring. Yes, I'm still wearing it on a chain around my neck. I find the sight of that ring oddly comforting. Not to sound maudlin, but it reminds me of how happy Josh and I once were and how, with any luck, we could be happy again. Eventually. If Josh would just get off his ass.
Proving, once again, that Josh and I have the worst timing of any two people in Washington, I hear the door open. And before I can hide the ring again, CJ enters the room.
Her eyes, of course, go straight to my ring. Her eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and her face takes on an expression that can only be translated as "please tell me that's not from Josh."
"Morning, CJ," I say, cleverly ignoring the topic completely.
CJ, however, comes straight to the point. "That's a beautiful ring, Donna. Where did you get it?"
You know, for about half a second I consider telling her the truth. Just to see her reaction. However, Josh would never forgive me for depriving him of the chance to see the look on her face.
I stick as close to the truth as possible. "It's a family heirloom," I tell her. Notice that I fail to mention whose family.
If CJ has her doubts about this story, she doesn't say so. Instead, she goes all concerned on me. "You know, Donna, now that Josh is back, you ought to think about taking some time off yourself. You've been working much too hard for the last few months."
At which point, I make a tactical error. A huge tactical error. "I couldn't do that, CJ. Josh really needs me right now."
You know the irony here? I honestly meant professionally. I wasn't talking about the other at all.
"Well, maybe Josh should stop relying on you so much," CJ says. "Maybe it would do him some good to have to function on his own for a week or so."
"CJ," I start, but she interrupts me.
"I don't mean that, Donna," she says. She gestures as if to dismiss the whole issue of the personal relationship we're all supposed to pretend I don't have with Josh. "I just meant that you need a rest and that Josh needs some appreciation for what you do."
"Josh appreciates me," I say. (Another tactical error, I'll admit.)
CJ gives me a look which, loosely translated, says, "Donna Moss, you poor, deluded girl."
"Donna," she says, "you can't let your life revolve around Josh and his problems. I know you're concerned about him; we all are. But we're concerned about you too. No one wants to see you get hurt, and clearly everything you've been through with Josh has taken its toll on you."
CJ, you don't know the half of it, I think. "Really, there's nothing to be concerned about," I say.
"When was the last time you did anything just for yourself? I'm betting you haven't taken any time to just have dinner with friends or go on a date since -- since May."
Then CJ gets this gleam in her eyes, and I know what she's going to say. I've seen that look on too many faces over the years not to know what's coming.
"You know, Donna, I have this friend who--"
My mouth is hanging open. I am, for a moment, stunned. Claudia Jean Cregg, White House press secretary, is trying to set me up on a blind date.
"Actually, CJ," I say, "I'm seeing someone."
This is not a lie. I see Josh every day. I just pray that CJ doesn't pursue the matter.
My prayers are not answered.
"You are?" CJ asks. "Why hasn't anyone heard about this? Who is he?"
"His name is Irving," I say.
Let me explain about Irving. I haven't had to use him in years. During my brief yet distinguished college career, Irving was a useful tool. I lived on the third floor of a dorm where everyone dated Irving at some point. If there was some guy you met in chem class who kept asking you out and you'd run out of ways to say no, enter your fictional boyfriend Irving. If some guy you didn't want to talk to called, you told your roommate to relay the message that you were on a date with Irving. We all loved Irving in college. He was the one man we knew would never disappoint us.
"Irving?" CJ repeats. "There are still people in the world named Irving?"
I nod. "He's a nice guy. We've only gone out a few times, but I think there's potential."
"Does Irving have a last name?"
"Hackenbush."
"You're dating a man named Irving Hackenbush?" CJ asks. She sounds skeptical, and who can blame her? In college, we loved the name Irving Hackenbush precisely because it was so silly. If I'd had more time, I would have thought of something more plausible for CJ's benefit. But I'm on the spot here, and I called him Irving Hackenbush before I had a chance to think about it. Now I have to sell CJ on Irving's existence. He has to sound real; he has to sound plausible; he has to sound not like Josh.
I nod. "Of course, when your mother sticks you with a name like Donnatella Viridis Moss, you learn not to judge."
"And what does Irving Hackenbush do?" CJ is standing there with her arms crossed, like she's daring me to prove that Irving exists.
It can't be anything political. That's too easy to check up on.
"He's a doctor," I answer. There are tons of doctors in the greater DC area. It could take CJ weeks to check up on that. "A psychologist actually." I can hide him in some obscure academic department if I have to. I won't say whether he's in private practice or not.
"How did you meet him?"
"He's a friend of my neighbor Andy," I explain. "Irving and Andy were going out one afternoon as I was coming in. We just got to talking, you know how it is, and he asked me out. The thing is--" I have to sell this; I have to make it completely believable. "I didn't really want to go out with him because -- well, you know why." I give her my really pathetic face -- the face that says I have an unrequited crush on my boss. Sadly, this is not that far from the truth.
CJ relaxes a bit, like she's beginning to believe me. "But you went out with Irving anyway?"
"Yeah. I figured -- you know, I guess I was a little bit angry at--" I shrug, not saying who I was supposedly angry at for not requiting the aforementioned crush. "And as it turns out, Irving's a lot of fun. And, you know, he listens. Plus he's not the least bit interested in politics, which is kind of refreshing."
CJ sighs. "That would be nice, yes."
"I've only gone out with him three times, and he seems to understand that I don't want to rush into anything. But I think there's a chance this could develop into something. You know, eventually."
I'm not sure that CJ completely believes me, but she seems to take everything seriously.
"Well, that's good," she says. She seems to buy it. Or at least if she doesn't buy it, she doesn't come right out and tell me I'm lying. So I figure that Irving has, at least temporarily, gotten me out of a jam.
It's nice to know I can still rely on Irving Hackenbush after all these years.
***
"Josh?" CJ is standing in our common doorway, looking uncertain.
"Yeah." I wave her in. She enters and pulls the door shut behind her.
To my alarm, she also closes my main door. Softly.
That can't be good.
"CJ?" I ask. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she lies as she slips into the visitor's chair. "I just want to ask you about something."
"Ask me about what?"
I've got a bad feeling I know where this is going. CJ always was too damn perceptive.
"Irving," CJ says with an apprehensive look.
Or I could be totally off-base.
"Irving?" I repeat. "The city outside of Dallas where the Cowboys play?"
"Josh." She does not look amused.
I shrug. "You're going to have to be more specific."
"Donna's boyfriend."
What?
"What?"
I must have misheard her, because I swear she just said--
"Donna's boyfriend," she repeats. "Irving."
Donna's boyfriend?
"Come again?"
"Josh--"
"CJ, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Josh--"
"Donna doesn't have a boyfriend, CJ. That's impossible."
It's also adultery, but I'm guessing I shouldn't mention that.
"Why is it impossible, Josh? She's a very attractive woman."
"I know that, CJ, but she's also--" I stop myself before I can complete that sentence: married to me.
"She's also...?" CJ prompts.
"A horrible liar," I answer lamely.
Donna is actually an excellent liar. Not the most comforting thought right about now.
CJ looks confused.
I can relate.
"Why would Donna lie to you about her boyfriend?"
Because she knows I'm still in love with her.
"So I don't tease her mercilessly."
"Josh, are you okay?"
"Yeah."
Why wouldn't I be okay? I just found out my wife is dating.
"Josh," CJ sounds determined. "I know you're attracted to Donna--"
Understatement.
"I am not."
Lie.
"I didn't want this to, you know," she shrugs, "take you by surprise."
I believe "blindsided" would be a more accurate term.
"I'm not surprised."
Not technically a lie, since the meaning of "surprise" is far too mild for what I'm experiencing.
"Okay," she rises and moves toward the door to her office.
I am itching to go grab Donna to review the terms of our non-divorce.
CJ stops with her hand on the door, and I barely curb the urge to shout "Get out!"
"The thing is," she says, "maybe it's a good thing."
A good thing? The woman I love is having dinner and holding hands and kissing someone else; that is a bad thing. A Very Bad Thing.
I must look strange, because CJ stumbles over her words trying to explain.
"It's just that she -- Last Christmas, and then after the shooting..." CJ pauses. "She's had a bad year, too, Josh. Maybe she deserves something good in her life."
I can't breathe suddenly.
CJ is awaiting some sort of response.
"You're right," I say.
She is right. Donna does deserve happiness, and I've certainly proven myself incapable of providing her with that.
I give CJ what must be a sickly smile.
"You okay?" she asks.
Not even close.
"Yeah." I nod.
She watches me carefully for a moment. "Okay."
The door clicks shut behind her and I'm alone. I stare at the closed door, behind which sits Donna.
My wife. Who, apparently, has a boyfriend.
This does not make me happy.
Maybe CJ's right, though. Maybe this guy will make her happy.
Maybe it's time for me to let her go.
I can do this. Really. I'll just tell her that it's time we made our agreement formal. I'll tell her that it's not going to work.
I'll just ask her for a divorce.
Oh, God, I can't divorce Donnatella. I just can't do it.
Maybe that makes me a weak, weak man, but I can't imagine spending the rest of my life calling her my ex-wife.
There's a quick knock on my door and then Sam slides in, pulling the door shut behind him.
"Yeah?" I say. I don't have the energy for Sam right now.
"Hey," Sam says. "How are you doing?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "I'm fine. What do you want?"
"I just wanted to check in, you know, see how--"
"What the hell are you talking about, Sam?"
"Nothing."
"Sam."
"I wanted to make sure you weren't freaking out over Irving."
"You know about Irving?" I sputter.
"Yeah," Sam shrugs.
"Who told you?"
"Toby."
"Toby?" I repeat. "Toby knows about Irving?"
"So I'm guessing you freaking out wasn't such an unlikely possibility."
"Get out."
"Josh--"
"Sam, not now."
"But Josh-"
"Don't make me get out of this chair and throw you out."
"Bye," Sam says and slips back out of my office.
I have to talk to Donnatella.
***
"Donnatella Moss!"
Now there's a sound I haven't heard in more than a month -- Josh bellowing my name from the depths of his office. Lately when he's not ignoring me, he's being so polite that we might as well be strangers. Can it be that we're getting back to normal?
Please?
"Minute, Josh," I shout back. Oh, this is just like the good old days! "I'm busy."
"Now, Donnatella!"
Two "Donnatellas" in one minute. What's going on?
I walk -- at a leisurely pace -- to Josh's office. Yes, it's all of three feet, but I'm making a statement here, you know?
"Who the hell is Irving?" Josh asks the second he sees me.
You know, I suspected something work-related. I hoped for something along the lines of an apology for his behavior since he returned from Nantucket. (Yes, I know that was unrealistic. But notice I said "hoped," not "expected.") I did not anticipate a question about the boyfriend I made up to confuse CJ.
"How did you hear about Irving?" I close the office door very quickly. This conversation could go places we'd regret other people hearing.
"CJ told me. So did Sam."
"Sam knows about Irving?"
"Apparently," Josh says, "everyone in the damn building knows about Irving."
I can't help it. I start giggling. "Well, they do say the husband is always the last to know."
"When were you going to tell me?"
He's upset? He's really upset about Irving?
"Josh, Irving isn't--"
"Did you think I don't care? Did you honestly think it wouldn't matter to me that my -- my--"
"Assistant?"
"My wife is dating?"
"We have that non-divorce agreement, remember?"
"There was no dating provision. We have not negotiated dating."
"Oh, for the love of God, Josh, Irving isn't--"
"Because if we're going to date other people, we have to negotiate the terms."
"We don't need terms. There is no--"
"First term: You have to tell me you're dating instead of letting me hear it from CJ." He pauses. "And vice versa."
"You're thinking of dating?" There is a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Joey Lucas isn't coming back to town, is she?
"Not at the present time. But if I were."
"Okay, but to get back to Irving--"
"Second term: I have to meet him."
"Why?"
"I can't let my wife date just anybody."
"I'd be happy to introduce you to Irving, Josh." Really, this is turning into the most bizarre conversation Josh and I have ever had. And that's saying something. "But that could prove to be a little complicated."
"Why?" He says that as though he thinks poor Irving has some deep dark secret.
"Because there is no Irving. Irving does not exist."
"What?"
"I made him up. CJ was asking questions. I swear, she was this close from trying to fix me up."
"CJ wants to fix you up? You mean, like on a blind date?"
"Yes. And I think that's a bad idea, don't you?"
"It's a very bad idea. It's a terrible idea. Where would CJ get an idea like that?"
"I imagine she's feeling sorry for me." I sit down in the visitor's chair. "This is what has happened to me. I have become an object of pity: poor Donna and her hopeless passion for Josh."
Josh sits down too, but he's grinning. Damn him. "Hopeless passion?"
"Oh, stop being so smug."
"I'm not smug."
"You are too. You're sitting there and you're thinking, 'Donnatella still loves me,' and you're smug."
He grins some more -- he is the very model of smugness -- and says, "This still doesn't explain Irving."
"It should be simple enough even for you to understand. I was on the spot. It was either say I was dating someone or explain that I couldn't start dating again because my husband wouldn't like it."
"But, I mean, Irving?"
"I know. I can't believe you all fell for it either."
"In my own defense, I got the news from the White House press secretary and the deputy chief of communications. Two usually reliable sources."
"Yeah. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"How did you convince CJ that Irving was real?"
"I have no idea. I mean, Irving was the first name that popped into my head. I couldn't believe she fell for a name like Irving Hackenbush."
"Hackenbush? I'm losing my wife to a man named Irving Hackenbush?"
"Stop laughing." Actually, I'm hoping he won't stop. It's been much too long since I've heard Josh laugh.
"What else did you tell her about -- about--" He starts laughing again. There are actual tears in his eyes. Irving Hackenbush, I love the effect you're having on my husband.
"Well, she asked for details. I had to provide a few."
"Such as?"
"He's very good looking."
"Donna, no one named Irving Seymour Hackenbush can be good looking."
"Seymour? I never said Seymour."
"I know. I can provide details too."
"Seymour then. And he is good looking. His eyes are Paul Newman blue."
"They're also crosseyed."
"Josh!"
"They looked crosseyed to me."
"You've never met him."
"You're introducing us tonight."
"Am I?"
"Yeah. I'm coming over to your place because you promised to help me with that report Leo wants tomorrow--"
"When did I do that?"
"You're doing it now. And you forgot you had a dinner date with Irving, and that's how I meet him. And he's crosseyed."
"No, he's not. And anyway, he's also a very important man."
"I'm the deputy chief of staff. Unless he's Leo or the president in disguise, you're coming down in the world."
"You are trying to compete with a man you know doesn't exist. Have you considered professional help? Because Irving's a psychologist. And don't say what you're thinking. Just because I had one bad experience with a doctor--"
"My wife, the queen of understatement."
We sit there just smiling at each other. It is the happiest I have been in months because Josh seems to be enjoying himself again.
"So," Josh says finally, "I guess I'll see you tonight."
"Tonight?"
"When I come over. To work on the thing."
Really?
"What time?"
"Seven."
"Irving will be there at six."
"6:30 then."
Irving Seymour Hackenbush, I love you!
***
END PART I