Three non-anniversaries had come and gone, unremarkable save for the carefully chosen flowers that would appear on her desk and the coffee - cream and three sugars - on his, with the note that said “The flowers are beautiful; thanks for taking me back.” (If anyone knew how to use semi-colons properly, it was Donna.) That’s what he hoped the note said, anyway. “Don’t forget your briefing memo for senior staff” was a distinct possibility too, what with the distinctive penmanship thing.
Three non-anniversaries since she’d last left him standing like this, bewildered, uncharacteristically speechless, and catching himself wondering, "what did you mean when you said -", praying she wouldn’t play him at his own game. It was just something I said...
She’d done it again.
“So,” she’d said, leaning on his doorframe, which somehow never looked complete unless she adorned it with her radiant beauty. Wo, he’d tell himself, when he caught a ridiculous thought like that flying through his brain. Enough with the adjectives already. What are you, writing a teenage romance novel?
“I’ve had this letter.”
This couldn’t be good; these crusades never ended well, at least not for him. “Uh-oh.”
“There’s this guy – “ she glanced down at the page. “He wants to propose to his girlfriend outside the Oval Office on a White House tour.”
Was it unspooling time again? That had come round quick. “Is this the start of a joke? Because I’ve got quite a lot of work...”
“No. It’s a real – thing.” She said, fixing him with her blue eyes. Those blue eyes ... Focus, he told himself, she’s still speaking.
“So is it okay to give permission?”
“Why does he want to propose in the White House anyway?” He was really trying here. Was she noticing how - well, how not him - he was being?
“They met during the...” His heart somersaulted when he realised she was looking down at her shoes, unable to hold eye contact for the final word - “campaign” . Had she practised this a million times, practised saying it looking straight at him so it wouldn’t seem like a big deal, like she wasn’t hinting?
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said, absent-mindedly, because his mind was absent; it had raced ahead. He wished it wouldn’t do that, but it did, more often than he’d like anyone to know, and further than he’d ever admit, except maybe to her on their wedding night... Damn it. He’d done it again. “Is that what you would want?”
“Well,” she said, more steadily now, “it would depend on who was asking.”
“If it was one of your Republican friends?”
“Well, then, definitely not. It would feel like some kind of betrayal.”
“Of me?”
Who was he kidding. Like he had any rights like that over her. All these years and not one date. The yearly flowers didn’t really count. Did they?
She shook her head, smiled kindly as you might at a first grader who had just put all of his effort into working out that two plus two equalled five. “Of my ideals, Josh. And the idea of marriage as partnership...”
“A beach in Hawaii would work well, though,” she continued, her eyes sparkling like the diamond ring he’d seen at Tiffany in Chevy Chase and so often imagined on her finger.
“But if it was – someone who –“ He swallowed hard. He didn’t know where he was going with this, but he wanted to prolong this moment, prolong the pretence of the alternative universe in which he could sweep her up in his arms and kiss her till neither of them could breathe... Anyway. Knew too that she had the power to smash this dream with just a couple of words or a scathing look. “You know, someone you had a White House history with?”
“Josh,” she said softly, and this time her head was held high, her eyes plunged in his. “If it was you, it wouldn’t matter where you asked me.”
And then she was gone, back to her desk, with her golden hair and her ocean blue eyes and her smile – that smile - and there he was, speechless, bewildered and (what the heck) in love.
Thanks to @politiKitz, aka Katie in Kansas, for pointing me to the story of Franco Ripple and Ashley Ligas, which was the inspiration for this ficlet, as reported by politico.com - http://www.politico.com/click/stories/1001/obamaholics_engaged_at_w_h_gates.html.
