E-mail address: liza_cameron@yahoo.com Title: Whiteout Wednesday "What did she say?" "She says you're mean." "I'm not mean." "Meaner than mean." "I'm not the one that's mean." "Well, my mom thinks you are… and my dad… you don't want to know what my dad thinks." "It's not my fault. Did you tell them it's not my fault?" Oh boy, he really sounds pitiful. "Whose fault is it, then?" "Leo, I blame Leo…" he states bluntly, and then adds, "And Mother Nature." "Josh, tomorrow is Thanksgiving!" "I know." He cringes slightly. "And you're not the only one who had to cancel plans you know." "I know." It comes out as a sigh as I plop down in one of the chairs that face his desk. I know it's not his fault. As much as I like to blame him, I can hardly hang this one on him. He didn't make it snow heavily throughout the Northeast, creating a near-state of emergency in parts of six states, and resulting in Leo insisting that everyone stay close through the weekend. "You can go, Donna." My eyes had been trained out the window of his office watching the snow fall, but now I whip my head around to look at him. "What?" "Seriously, you should go." "What about the blizzards?" "It's not like there will be much to do until it stops snowing, and that's not supposed to happen until late Thursday. I may not even get called in, but if I do I can manage without you. You should be with your family on Thanksgiving." He looks and sounds… could it be gloomy? But also sincere. Can you keep a secret? As much as I want to see my family and as much as I love the Moss family Thanksgiving extravaganza, I don't want to leave him. It was one thing when he was going to his mom's, but if he's staying, then I want to stay, too. "That's okay. With all the flight cancellations and airport closures, air traffic all over the country is a mess. The airport will be insane. I'd rather be stuck here than there." While it is snowing here in D.C. we aren't getting hit with the blizzard that the areas north of us are. We're only expecting a few inches. Enough to give us a lovely blanket of snow, but not enough so that we have problems like the ones Philadelphia, New York City and Cleveland are currently experiencing. "Are you sure?" He raises his eyebrows and looks almost hopeful. Is it possible that he doesn’t want me to go, as much as I don't want to leave him? "Yeah, I'm sure." His expression changes to an almost cocky grin. "Then go call your mother and tell her I am not mean. Tell her I’m magnanimous and offered to let you go home, even though we may be dealing with crisis situations with power, air traffic and emergency services throughout the northeast this weekend." Why does he suddenly seem to care if my family thinks he's an ogre of a boss? He's never given a darn before. "Why do you care what my mother thinks?" Hmm… that's an interesting sort of deer-caught-in- headlights thing he's got going on. Finally, he clears his throat and smirks. "Hey, I just don't want them loading up the tractor and coming after me in the big city. I hear those hay bailers can really do some damage." "Tractor? Both my parents drive Volvos." "You're the one who always claims she grew up on a farm." "Whatever. But I will tell my mother that you're not mean, at least not mean for keeping me. I'm sure she'll be very proud that I'm staying for the ‘crisis.’" Yes, I just used air quotes when I said the word crisis. It's not that I don't think the blizzards are a crisis, I just think that state and local governments are handling them and that Leo overreacted when he said he wanted us all in town and on call. But as I said to Josh, travel would have been near impossible, so it's for the best that I'm staying. Not to mention the whole me-not-wanting-to-leave-Josh- alone thing. "Besides, it will be very exciting to be able to re-tell the whole story at Christmas. I'll have them spellbound with the tale of how we got the guy at FEMA on the phone and then OK’ed some federal aid." "Hey, we might also have to sit in on conference calls with the FAA and the Department of Transportation." I grin. I can't help it. Mostly because he's grinning at me. I look down for several beats and then look back up at him. "You know, it doesn't have to be a total bust." "What do you mean?" "I mean we could still have Thanksgiving." What in the hell am I saying? Thanksgiving means cooking. I can't cook. At least, not well. What? I'm sure I'd be good if I had a chance to do it, but I rarely do. I work too much. Also, is it appropriate to have a holiday dinner with one's boss? "How?" Josh crinkles his brow. I look at him quizzically. For such a smart man, he sure isn't very swift sometimes. "We could cook." I say each word slowly to make sure he's following me. Why I'm mocking him when I can't even believe the words I'm saying, I'm not sure. But mock I do, because it's fun. "I'm not following…" He shakes his head. So much for speaking slowly in a mocking tone. "Joooosh…" "You know how to make a Thanksgiving dinner? Because I sure don't." Oh, he was following what I was saying… he just doesn't think we can do it. But he doesn't seem to be shocked by the idea of us having Thanksgiving dinner together, alone. "It's very simple." My voice is filled with confidence. Frankly, with more confidence than I actually feel. So much confidence that I'd believe me, if I were well, not me-- but the fact is I've never made a Thanksgiving dinner before. Sure, I've helped. I've peeled potatoes and cubed bread for stuffing and basted the turkey. But not all on my own. Never on my own. "Simple? Thanksgiving?!" Oh it's like that, is it? He's giving me an incredulous scowl… he's a non-believer. Never mind my own doubts; if he doesn’t think I can pull this off, I'm determined to do it. "If you can read, you can cook, Josh. Just like hooking up your TV. And we can read. Well, at least I've proven I can." "But where would we-" "Your place," I supply boldly. Is it normal for one to just tell one's boss that Thanksgiving will be happening at their house? Do most people do that? "My place?" By the look on Josh's face, he may be wondering the same thing. Not to worry. If I want Thanksgiving at Josh's, it will be at Josh's. He can't say no to me. Or rather, he can't mean no to me. "Of course. It's bigger than mine and you have a real dining room table. I know that comes as a shock to you since you usually eat standing up or on a stool, but it’s there. I've seen it." His dining room table! That's it! I'll invite other people. That will solve the whole is-it- inappropriate-for-a-boss-and-assistant-to-have-a- romantic-holiday-dinner together-thing. Wait, who put the word romantic in there? "And that way we can accommodate more guests. My kitchen table only seats four at the most and it's not very festive." "Guests?!" Oh… was he not expecting that there would be guests? Must not have, because he appears to be surprised. Check that, he appears to be terrified. Why should he be terrified? I'm the one that has to do the bulk of the cooking. Everyone knows that's the hard part. All he has to do is have a clean apartment. And he has a maid service so that shouldn't be a problem. "Sure, undoubtedly we aren't the only ones thrown for a holiday loop by Leo's order to stay close this weekend. We should invite the others." "How many others?" I put my hand on my chin as I try and picture his place. "Well, I think if we put the leaf in your table it will seat eight. So… not more than eight." "EIGHT!" "I said not more than eight. Which means eight or less." After his outburst a second ago, now Josh is staring at me with what can only be described as a glazed-over expression. Don't worry, he'll get over it. And this way we can have a really nice holiday and not worry about whether or not it's appropriate. Although, why, after taking a bath at his house two weeks ago and then watching a dirty movie with him, I'm worrying about appropriate now, I don't know. "I'm going to go issue some invitations. Don't worry, not more than eight." "Hmph," he grunts as I take my leave. Sheesh, you'd think I was asking him to make room for eight Republicans at the table, instead of just host a party for eight of our friends. *** I'm leaning against the door jam in his office watching him work. I love to watch him when he doesn't know I'm watching him. Don't look at me like that. I'm not a stalker. I just love the way he is when he concentrates. He gets a little indentation between his brow and his hair is sticking up all over the place from the numerous times he's run his hand through it. His head is propped up by his elbow as he reads a report and makes notes in the margin; notes for me to follow up on, most likely. I can almost see his brilliant mind working. I find him thrilling. Oh… I mean I find the way he thinks and works thrilling. Hmm… I'm not actually sure if that's less damning or not. "Hey…" At the sound of my voice he looks up and when he sees me in the doorway, smiles. "Hey, how's the Thanksgiving extravaganza coming along?" "Good. I just spent a half hour on the phone with my mother learning all her secrets. And then another fifteen minutes on the phone with my grandmother, who told me that the way that my mother does everything for Thanksgiving is all wrong. I was able to get off before Aunt Connie could give me her two cents." "The taxpayers thank you for working so hard on their behalf." But he grins as he says it, so I don't pay attention to his scolding. Not that I would, regardless. "So we're all set?" He raises his eyebrows at me in question. "Yup." "And you told your mom I'm not mean?" Why is he obsessed with whether or not my mom thinks he's mean? "Yes, she understands about the weather and the airports." "Good. So, what's the deal for tomorrow?" "You can rest easy, it's just going to be us and CJ and Toby." "Oh… oh." It takes a second for that to register and then he perks up slightly. "That actually sounds nice. What about the rest of our stranded co-workers? Why just them?" "CJ's coming because she was supposed to go home, but she's had to postpone that until next week. Toby's coming because Andi is taking the twins to her parents’ and even though he was invited, he really wasn't. He'll go see them later in the evening." "Who refused our generous invitation?" He asks as he taps his pen against the desk. I smile at his use of the word 'our.' I don't know why, but it just makes me smile. "Charlie was staying in town anyway; he and Deanna are going to an aunt's house. Carol's going to her boyfriend's parents’ in Maryland-" "Since when does Carol have a boyfriend?" He sort of snorts the question. I just scowl at him a little and continue talking. "Leo… yes, I asked Leo, even though I blame him. He's going to Mallory's. Will was already gone and Margaret has plans with Suzie from Political Affairs and Dale from Human Resources. Apparently, they are opposed to Thanksgiving because they say it celebrates the oppression of indigenous peoples. So instead they’re going to see that new disaster movie, 'Meltdown', which opens today. They think it's a symbolic protest against the holiday to go watch national monuments get knocked down by a tidal wave." Josh's eyes just went wide. Why does he look so excited? He should not look excited about Margaret's Thanksgiving plans. "Right… I've seen the preview for that. A wall of water goes right through the Rotunda of the Capitol!" "Uh-huh…" Oh, it's the movie he's excited about. Who cares about some disaster movie? "I really want to see that." Apparently, Josh does. At least, judging from the eager tone in his voice. "Huh?" "Seriously. Have you seen your one movie in the theater this year?" Again I say, "Huh?" "A couple of weeks ago… that night at my apartment…" Oh, my. If I'm not mistaken, he's turning a very lovely shade of crimson. "You said you saw one movie in the theater a year. Have you seen it yet?" I think back. I don't think I have. How pathetic is that? I have not been out to a theater to see a movie once this year. "No, but we are having Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow with CJ and Toby, so we can't go to the movies with Margaret, Suzie from Political Affairs and Dale from Human Resources tomorrow." "No. I don't want to go with Margaret and… people I don't even know. I'm talking about you and me going. Tonight. Not tomorrow." "What?" He wants to go to the movies, with me, tonight. The two of us. Really? That almost sounds like a… sort of a… nah, couldn't be. Could it? What do you mean, I should ask him? I'm not asking him if he's asking me on a date! "It's dead here because of the holiday. All we're doing is waiting for the snow to stop two states away. Leo just wants us nearby in case something disastrous happens in the blizzarding areas. Doesn't mean we can't leave the building. They'll page me if we're needed.” "You really want to see 'Meltdown'?" Tonight? With me? I didn't ask those last two questions out loud. But I wanted to. "Sure." He glances suspiciously over at his computer where he had been typing just seconds ago. "Meg Ryan is Dr. Kiki Carlisle, a top environmental scientist who's been cautioning the government about global warming and the greenhouse effect for a decade. When no one heeds her warnings and the polar ice caps begin to melt, she must team up with TV meteorologist Guy Weathers— played by Hugh Grant—as they take on a terrifying foe, Mother Nature. Gary Coleman turns in a career- resurrecting performance as Dr. Kiki's wisecracking research assistant." "Are you reading that?" I round his desk so I can see what's on his computer. In amazement, I gaze at the screen. "How do you even know what moviefone.com is?" My world is spinning. Josh can use the internet! Somebody's got some splainin' to do! If he can use Moviefone, then there is no reason why he needs me to order his books off of Amazon for him. Of all the nerve! Although, I don't mind the way he leans over my shoulder while I do it, so that his cheek is only inches from mine and I can feel his breath on my… never mind. Getting off track. Where were we? Oh yes, 'Meltdown'. "Meg Ryan?" I'm pretty sure I'm making a face that includes a scrunchy nose and a mildly grimacing mouth. "Yes, Meg Ryan! You know, she's a very attractive woman." Now you know why I'm making a face and why I'm resisting going to a movie with Josh. Because let's be honest, who wouldn't want to sit in the dark for two hours with Josh? No one. But Josh loves Meg Ryan. I mean looooves her. I know… puke, right? But I think it stems all the way back to 'Top Gun.' I know this because he mentions it. Josh doesn't talk about movies or movie stars, but he has talked about Meg Ryan. I don't need to compete with Meg Ryan; I mean, she's Meg Ryan! Not that I should be competing with anyone… about anything… in regards to Josh. That would be ridiculous. "Isn't she kind of over?" For the look on Josh's face, I might as well have just confessed to spying for Republicans. And I'm not just saying that she's over, because I'm jealous of how much Josh likes her. Wait. I'm not jealous. I didn't mean jealous. I meant that I'm not just saying that she's over because of how much Josh likes her. She made that boxing movie and that horrible one where she's naked all the time. Seriously, girl's career is in the toilet. So I come up with another approach to distract him from this disaster movie nonsense. "Besides we have to shop for tomorrow, tonight." "Shop for what?" He's doing that cute furrowed-forehead thing he does. I gotta tell you, it's much cuter when he's not being infuriatingly slow-witted. "Food…" "Oh, right, food. We?" "Yes, it's at your house. You should help." "It's not like I wanted it to be at my house." "Yet, it is." "Donna…" That was a groan. He sits back in his chair and I can actually see him going into politician mode. "We can shop after the movie." He thinks he can out negotiate me? I don't know who he thinks he's dealing with. I learned from the best. "That won't do. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We have to go as soon as possible. There might not be Thanksgiving food left as it is." He breathes in deeply and then a smug expression creeps across his face. Uh-oh. He only looks like that when he's got it all worked out. In his favor. "Okay, it's almost six. According to this…" He motions to his computer screen. "There's an 8:30 showing of 'Meltdown' at Gallery Place. We can go to the grocery store, take the stuff back to my place and make it to the movie in plenty of time." "You really want to go see a movie?" I'm shaking my head. Who is this man!? But he's nodding eagerly. How can I refuse an eager Josh? I can't. "It's a Jerry Bruckheimer movie." "What? What does that even mean?" Jerry Bruckheimer is not even a director. Who cares? "I don't know, but they have it plastered all over the page here, so it must mean something." "Okay, but we are shopping first." *** "Are you ready for your assignment?" "My assignment?" I ask with very real apprehension as I jump to the left in order to dodge a woman who is chasing after two small boys and a runaway cart. "Yes, your assignment," Donna replies calmly. How can she be so calm in this chaos? How would she have gotten used to working in chaos, when she works for me? "This will go quicker if we split up." "Split up!" I'm sure there is a very befuddled look on my face right now. What in the heck does she mean, ‘split up’? I can't navigate this disaster zone without her. "You want to split up? Are you kidding me? We're fighting for our very survival as it is in this place. It's a jungle. If we split up, we might not make it out alive. Let alone find our way back to each other." "Josh, it's a supermarket." "A supermarket overrun by hungry lunatics. You'd think these people just got back from the Donner party the way they're going after food!" "Yes, it's just like that. Nevertheless, your assignment is cranberries." "Cranberries? That sounds hard." "It couldn't be simpler. I'm making it very easy on you for your first assignment." "I don't even like cranberries." Never have, never will. "I'm not asking you to eat them now, just buy them." "Why are we having cranberries?" Donna reaches over and pulls me towards her and our cart so that I barely miss running into a little, white-haired lady who is bending over looking for something on the bottom shelf. I knew there was a reason I don't go to grocery stores. "Because you're not the only one eating. Toby or CJ might like them." "You don't like them either?" Donna just made a face and shook her head. "Then why-" "Josh, the more you help and cooperate, the better the chance we have of making it to the movies and not missing the coming attractions." "Fine." I sigh in resignation, because I don't want to miss the coming attractions, they're the best part. Except for the part where I'm going to get to sit next to Donna in the dark for two hours. That's a good part, too. "Give me my orders; what do I need to do?" "Go find a can of cranberry sauce and then bring the can of cranberries back here to me." She just patted my arm like I'm either senile or eight years old. "And if you get lost … just stay alive and I will find you." I ignore her attempt at a joke. Mostly, because in this place, I’m not sure it is a joke. "A can?" "Yeah… why?" "Aren't you going to actually make the cranberry sauce yourself?" Uh-oh, I don't think Donna liked that question. She just stopped in her tracks and grabbed me so I have to stop and face her. "What?" "Shouldn't the cranberries, I don't know, be made from scratch? My mom makes cranberries from scratch." See, I knew she didn't like the question, yet I continued. But then again, that's the charm of me. "One…" Uh-oh, Donna's all business. And a little huffy. She's started to tick items off on her fingers, and an annoyed tone is definitely present in her voice. It's really quite adorable. "You're not even eating them, so what do you care? Two, the canned sauce is just fine, and three, your mom hasn't made cranberries for Thanksgiving from scratch since 1972." "How do you know that?" Curious, how would she know more about my mom's cooking than I would? Other than the fact that I don't know anything about cooking. My point is, she has specific information; how did she get it? "She told me when I called her this afternoon." "You called my mom? Why?" Uh-oh, am I in trouble? "To get her advice on Thanksgiving dinner. By the way, since you can't make it, she's not even cooking. She and your Aunt Marie are going out to dinner with friends. They're very excited about it." I'm still stuck on the fact that she called my mom. "Why did you call my mom for advice?" "Because I like your mom and also I wanted to find out if your family had any special traditions or way of doing things." "You did?" I'm flabbergasted and I'm sure it shows on my face. Now Donna's blushing slightly. "I wanted it to be a good Thanksgiving for you, too. I just continue to stare at her, and then this very warm feeling overwhelms me and I feel something squeeze tight around my heart. What an incredibly sweet thing for her to have done. It highlights one more reason, why I love this woman. Yes, I said love. This is not a brand- new revelation; I've been thinking about it a lot the last few weeks, thinking about what I want to do about it. Now, I realize that I have no choice anymore. Because another thought hits me, even more powerfully than the first. Is it possible to realize that you absolutely, positively want to marry a woman, spend the rest of your life with her, while standing in the produce aisle of a supermarket? Even never having kissed her? Because if so, it's happening to me right now. Its suddenly amazingly clear; I want to be with her. That's what I meant about not having a choice anymore. It's one thing to be in denial, but now that I'm out, I feel like I'm on a speeding freight train. But first I must pull myself together. Because it's not like I can do anything about any of that here. We're in a supermarket. "I don't know how it could be anything but good," I finally respond and we stare at each other for several long seconds. I don't even notice the throngs of people pushing past us in the aisles as I stare into her amazing blue eyes. Well, I don't notice the throngs until some pre- adolescent runs a shopping cart into my back. "Ow." The kid scurries off and Donna starts to giggle. I look back to her and manage a smile. "I'll just go find the cranberries now." *** "I'm never doing that again." Josh is shaking his head as he hands his credit card to the lady in the box office. "Skidding into a parking space after nearly side-swiping a Mercedes because you suck at driving in the snow?" I ask innocently and with a straight face. "No! Grocery shopping." He brushes the snow off of his sleeves. And… now he's brushing it off of my sleeves. That's kind of sweet. "That place was a nightmare." "It was a tad crowded," I agree as I reach up and run my hand through his hair to remove the lingering snowflakes. Hey, if he gets to brush me off, then I get to brush him off. Okay, that sounded funny. But he's grinning at me |