All characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Bros., & NBC. The title's from Tom Waits. Standard disclaimers apply. Please send feedback.
The Piano Has Been Drinking
Cinnamon & Violet
Josh stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out the window. It was the first day of spring, but the sky was still cloudy and the trees were still bare.
"Tornado shelters are on the floor."
"Yeah," he replied, not turning his head. "'Cause if there was a tornado, hitting the deck is probably the smart move."
C.J. stepped into his office. "I mean they're voting on HR-247. The tornado shelters thing."
"I know."
She folded her arms. "What's going on?"
"It's going to pass easily, right?"
"I mean with you, Stable Mabel."
"Nothing."
"Right. That's why you're staring off into space and giving monosyllabic answers. You're just conserving energy."
"We all have to do our part."
C.J. scoffed. "What's going on, Josh?"
He turned around slowly. "My aunt Judy died."
"I'm sorry. Is that--"
"Charlie's mother." He nodded and sat down in his chair. "Lung cancer. She smoked two packs a day."
"When's the funeral?"
"Tomorrow afternoon."
"Are you going?"
Josh rubbed his forehead. "I've taken all kinds of days off lately..."
She walked up to his desk and laid a hand on his arm. "You should go. Talk to Leo, he'll say the same thing."
"Yeah. You know, I hate funerals."
"Shush. Don't let that get around. All the people who love funerals will be offended."
He looked up at her. "You're being sarcastic now, right?"
"Good catch." C.J. started for the door. "Go talk to Leo. He'll tell you to go."
"Yeah. I just have to make a phone call first."
* * *
"Shannon?" Josh took his eyes off the road and glanced at her. "You okay?"
She fingered her seatbelt, staring out the window. "Hmm?"
"Shann?"
She looked out the window for a moment longer, then turned her gaze toward Josh. "Did you say something?"
"No, I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go around and around."
"How's this going to be, Josh? I haven't seen him since I kicked him out." She shifted in her seat. "Maybe I shouldn't come. Can you -- can you take me back home?"
Josh reached over and squeezed her hand. "Judy loved you."
"I know, but--"
"Go for you, don't go for him."
She exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Here's your turn."
Josh maneuvered his car around the corner and slowly eased up to the curb. He honked twice, resting his elbow along the top of his rolled-down window. Josh drummed the fingers of his right hand against his knee and looked at Shannon, who was chewing on her thumbnail. He raised his hand to honk again when Shannon cleared her throat and smoothed out her skirt. "Here he comes."
Charles emerged from the house wearing jeans, a white sweater, and a black wool jacket. He locked the door and quickly made his way down the front steps. He paused for a moment when he saw the two figures in the car, then shook his head and opened the rear passenger side door.
Josh waited for the door to close, then pulled back into traffic. "Hey, Charlie."
"Josh didn't tell me you were coming," Charles said.
Shannon turned to look at him. "Yeah."
"It's good, though. She liked you better than she liked me anyway."
"That's not true."
"Yeah. Don't you have a radio in this thing?"
She placed a hand on his knee. "I'm sorry about your mom."
"Music, Joshua! We need tunes."
Shannon closed her eyes and sighed, turning to face forward in her seat and switching on the radio.
* * *
"Wake up." Charles nudged his cousin. "We're about to land."
Josh squinted at him. "I was asleep?"
"Practically as soon as they turned off the 'Fasten Seatbelt' sign."
"It must be a self-defense mechanism." He yawned. "When you travel with the President, it's either sleep or be tortured."
"The President tortures you?" Shannon asked from across the aisle.
"With trivia. Did you know that scorpions glow under black light?"
"No."
"Neither did I." Josh grimaced and straightened up. "And I never wanted to, but on a long flight across the country...."
"I get the picture."
The plane landed at Bradley Airport. Charles got Shannon's suitcase down from the carry-on compartment and handed it to her. "Well, here we are."
"Is someone picking us up?" she asked.
"Everyone's at the house," Josh told her. "We'll rent a car."
"Shotgun!" Charles announced as they disembarked.
Josh let him walk ahead a little and fell into step with Shannon. "He seems all right," he said in an undertone.
She looked uncomfortable. "We'll see."
"Hey, you know where we can go?" Charles said, turning around suddenly.
"Your mother's house?" Shannon replied.
"Traubert's."
"Who--"
"It's a bar," Josh explained. "We're not going to a bar."
"Why not?" Charles rounded a corner. "Just for an hour or so."
"That's kind of inappropriate--" Shannon began.
"Babe, I need a drink before I can deal with these people. I think it's only--"
"Don't call me babe," she said quietly.
Charles studied the serious look on her face and nodded. "Traubert's. You can drop us off, if you don't want to stay."
"I didn't say I was coming with you," Josh pointed out.
"Are you coming with me?"
"Yeah."
* * *
"I had my first drink here," Charles mused, as he opened the door.
"I bought it for you," Josh recalled. "You were nineteen."
Charles laughed and walked to a table. "It's gone downhill."
"What are you talking about?" Josh sat down. "They redecorated. They got a rubber-tree plant and a piano and a guy to play it. It's shiny and upscale now."
"It used to be a grungy bar where a couple of kids could hang out."
"I see your point. By those standards, it's gone to the devil."
"You know what they say. There is no devil. That's just God when he's drunk."
"They say that?"
"Well, someone does, I'm sure."
A woman approached them. "Hi, I'm Larissa. I'll be your waitress."
"Hey, Larissa." Charles smiled at her. "We're going to be drinking Rolling Rock, and I'd like you to keep them coming, but here's what I want you to do for me. I want you to bring this guy one beer for every two that you bring to me. So, you know, just kind of alternate."
"Hey!" Josh yelped in protest. "Don't listen to him."
"Don't listen to *him*," Charles countered. "Alternate."
"Alternate," she repeated doubtfully. "Okay. Two Rolling Rocks?"
"This time."
"Right." She walked away, shaking her head.
"That wasn't fair," Josh complained.
"One of us has to be the responsible one."
"You're the responsible one?"
"No, I nominated Larissa."
Josh shook his head. "Hey. I'm sorry about your mother."
The waitress set two bottles down on the table. "Thanks," Charles said, speaking to her and Josh at the same time.
"She was always a really nice--"
"No, no," Charles interrupted. "We're not Irish. This isn't a wake. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise... her."
"Well." He picked up his beer. "Here's to Judith Lyman Ellis."
"Yeah." They clicked their bottles together.
Josh took a swig. "This is weird, sitting here like we used to do."
"How do we make it not weird?"
"Drink a lot?"
"Except that in your case, drinking a lot means you do maybe a half a shot of tequila."
"Tequila." Josh's eyes brightened. "That's a thought."
"Larissa won't let you have any."
"Why do you get to dictate to our waitress what I can and can't have?"
Charles smirked. "Because I'm buying, and I'm tipping her."
"Oh." Josh settled back in his chair. "Well, shine on, you crazy diamond."
* * *
Charles came back from the bathroom to find Josh starting on his second beer. "Hey. Where'd you get that?"
"Larissa isn't very good at remembering directions?"
"You bribed her." Charles sat down, opened his beer, and lit a cigarette.
"Yeah. You smoke?"
"I'm trying to start." He exhaled carefully. "Mom smoked these all her life. I guess the Surgeon General wasn't kidding around."
"I guess not." Josh downed most of his bottle. "What's that noise?"
"The music?"
"No, the awful noise."
"The music?
"It sounds like a phone. An annoying phone. Wait, it's me." Josh reached into his coat pocket, took out his cell phone, and tipped his chair back. "Hello?"
"Josh?" It was Donna's voice.
"It's me," he agreed.
"You never answer the phone with 'Hello.' You answer it 'Josh Lyman.' Have you been drinking?"
"The piano has been drinking. Not me."
"Oh, God."
"I'm fine, Donna. We just stopped for a little drink."
"A little drink," Charles agreed. "To take the edge off."
"To take the edge off," Josh repeated.
"And steel our nerves."
"And steel our--"
"I can hear you both, you know," Donna said. "How much have you had to drink?"
"Honestly, not enough."
She hesitated. "How's your cousin?"
He covered the mouthpiece this time. "She wants to know how you are."
"I'm fine," Charles said.
"He's a wreck," Josh told her. "How are you holding up?"
"Everything's fine here. The office isn't going to fall apart without you. You know that. It's probably much more likely to fall apart when you're here."
"They're going to promote you behind my back," he predicted gloomily. "I'm going to come home and find out I'm working for you."
"Would that be so bad?" she teased.
"Well, I wouldn't bring you coffee, for a start."
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Under the circumstances. You need anything?"
"No. You?"
"No. Goodnight, Josh."
"'Night, Donna."
"Does she always look after you like that?" Charles asked.
"Actually, yes." Josh tucked his phone back into his pocket. "She's really great."
"Women are great," Charles declared, draining his beer.
Josh followed suit. "They sure as hell are. Women support us."
"Women keep us out of trouble."
"Women take care of us."
"Women have had it up to about here with you," Shannon said as she walked up to their table.
Charles looked up at her. "You're early."
"No, I'm really not." She folded her arms. "Come on. Let's go."
Josh stood up, then dropped back into his chair. "Too fast. Too fast."
She tugged on his collar. "Let's go."
"Okay," he whimpered, and got to his feet.
Charles reached for his wallet. "I'll cover the tab."
"No," Josh protested. "I want to get it."
"Put your money away, Josh."
"Put your money away. I insist."
"So do I."
"Oh, for heaven's sake." Shannon reached into her purse and quickly tossed some cash on the table. "There. Are we finished?"
The men reluctantly trailed after her to the parking lot. "What's the rush?" Charles grumbled.
"The rush is your whole family's back at the house, and that's where you're supposed to be."
"Supposed to be? Who cares--"
"I do." She put a hand to her temple in annoyance. "There are things you just have to do sometimes, and I shouldn't have to shepherd the two of you."
Josh groaned as he stepped off the curb, steadying himself against a parked car. "You don't have to shepherd us," he said weakly.
"No, she doesn't," Charles agreed. "We were fine."
"You were not fine. You know, you're making me crazy."
"Yeah, well." He smiled coldly. "I still love you."
She stopped walking, whirled around and glared at him. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't do that. Do not do that. I didn't have to come here, you know. I came because I liked your mother, and I came because I'm sorry for your loss. And you got this one..." Shannon gestured at Josh, who was covering his face with his hands. "He's close to toasted, and you know he won't be good for anything, and you're -- you're whatever you are. And I have to get you to the house and get you upstairs before you insult one of your relatives, and I'm really not relishing it, so show some damn respect and just don't."
Both men stared at her silently. Her eyes flashed, but she didn't say anything more.
"Awkward pause," Charles muttered after a moment.
"Shut up and get in the car," Shannon said wearily, and they did.
* * *
Charles padded into the kitchen, scratching his stomach through his shirt, and noticed Josh sitting at the table.
"Morning," Charles said, walking to the refrigerator and scanning what was inside.
"Okay, way too loud."
Charles looked over his shoulder at his cousin and grinned. "Sorry. Do you want some orange juice?"
Josh shook his head. "We need to talk, Charlie."
Charles reached into the cabinet next to the refrigerator and pulled out two glasses. "Can we?"
"You're wrecking your body."
Charles glanced at his bare wrist. "Six-thirty and he's already on my back." He placed a glass of juice in front of Josh and took a sip from his own. "I don't want to be having this conversation."
"We've had nothing but this conversation for the past month."
"That's because you don't listen to me!"
"No, Josh, you don't listen to me." Charles dropped onto a chair and leaned in towards Josh. "I'm fine with the way I am. I'm not stopping. Get over it."
"Look--"
"This is not about that."
Josh crossed his arms. "Oh, I get it. Now we're mourning."
"I came up here because my mother died. Don't turn this into yet another opportunity for you to play savior."
"I'm sorry about Judith; you know that."
"But you just can't let a day go by without riding my ass." Charles placed his hands flat on the table and stood. "You know what your problem is?"
"What's my problem?"
"You're running hot and cold with me. We're either joking around or we're having a Very Special Episode of 'Blossom.'" He rested against the sink. "Be my friend or be a bastard. Don't try to be both."
Josh ran his finger along the rim of his glass. "That's not entirely untrue."
"I know it."
Josh exhaled slowly. "Okay. So, do you need to go out and score some blow?"
"I stocked up before we left. And I beg you, stop calling it blow."
"Yeah. I guess I'm going to have to be the bastard because I can't take this."
"Then be the bastard. Be that guy, Josh. Just stop being this guy."
"So who is Shannon supposed to be?"
Charles scoffed. "Shannon left. Shannon walked away. You're the one who keeps coming back for more of this."
"She didn't leave," Josh said quietly. "You traded her in."
"You're talking about something that you don't understand," Charles said in an equally quiet tone.
"You're a cokehead. What else is there to understand?"
Charles drained his glass and placed it in the sink. "My little brother goes to bars three or four nights a week and brings women home with him. Uncle Victor, who died the same year that my little brother graduated college, was a raging alcoholic. You never stop working. We all have a nasty little habit. That's what sets us apart from the animals."
"It's that simple?"
"Hell, yes, it's that simple. Things aren't always as complicated as you make them out to be."
"You're hiding, Charlie."
"We won't even get into what you're hiding from." Charles sat on the counter. "This morning I woke up, and I was miserable. Now I feel better. I found a cure for pain, Josh. I'm living the fucking American dream."
"For a couple of hung-over jackasses, you're up early." Shannon squeezed past Charles and reached into the fruit basket for a banana.
Josh took a quick gulp of juice and studied his feet.
"Did you sleep well?" Charles asked.
"Oh, yeah. Love that fold-out couch."
"You kids could have just as easily stayed in a hotel, you know."
Shannon smiled. "Good morning, Aunt Annie."
"Hey, Mom."
Anne Lyman kissed the top of Josh's head. "You boys got in late last night."
Charles hopped down from the counter. "Sorry, Aunt Anne. We were--"
Anne waved a hand in his direction. "I'm just giving you a hard time. I'm so sorry about your mom."
"Yeah, thanks."
There was a quiet moment, interrupted by Anne clearing her throat. "Shannon, honey, Grandma Miriam can't wait to see you. Come upstairs with me, will you, dear?"
Shannon nodded and placed her arm around Anne as they left the kitchen.
Charles watched them go, but Josh did not. He continued to stare at his feet and began to tap his fingers rhythmically against the table.
"Well. I guess I'm going to take a shower."
Josh stood and walked to the counter. Without looking at Charles, he poured his juice into the sink.
"You know what, Josh?" Charles asked as he walked past his cousin. "You're really good at being the bastard."
* * *
It had been three years since Josh had had to say the words, but they came back quickly, albeit painfully, as he heard them.
"Yisgadal v'yiskadash sh'mei rabba...."
The sun was bright, and Josh squinted into it, creating little bursts of color at the corners of his vision. He was glad it was getting warmer out, but cemeteries still made him claustrophobic. They always had -- at least, since he was a little boy and he'd been to a burial for the first time.
"B'almaw di-v'ra khir'usei...."
In this world that He created as He willed, Josh translated, silently and automatically. The prayer was easy enough to follow, even though his Hebrew classes were decades ago. But he always had a hard time with the irony, with blessing God's name right there in the face of tragedy. But that, he supposed, was exactly the point.
"V'yamlikh malkhusei...."
Beside him, Anne sniffled softly. Josh laid a hand on his mother's arm, shifted his weight a little and allowed himself a guarded glance at his cousins. Jesse, the younger son, was standing somber and still, his face pale above his black suit. He did not raise his eyes from the ground. Charles was looking down too, as he spoke. He folded his hands, then rubbed them together idly. Suddenly, he looked up to catch Josh's eye. Josh flicked his eyes away rapidly.
"B'chayeikhon, uv'yomeikhon...."
He could feel Charles staring at him. He held out for a long moment, then reluctantly looked back. Tears were beginning to travel down his cousin's face, but if he knew he was crying, he didn't seem to care.
"Uv'chayei d'khol beis yisrael...."
And in the lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel, Josh thought automatically as he tried to turn away. Charles held his gaze and faltered in the prayer, as he mouthed something different. Josh raised his eyebrows.
"Ba'agala u'viz'man kariv; vimru..."
He shaped the other words again: 'I'm sorry.' This time Josh recognized it, and he felt his throat close up. He swallowed hard and nodded his head very slightly. Through her own tears, Shannon glanced back and forth between the two men, and Charles reached blindly for her hand. Josh slipped his arm around his mother's shoulders, forcing himself to look straight ahead.
"...Amein."
* * *
Josh slid behind the wheel of his rental car and wrapped his fingers around the wheel, gripping it as tightly as he could. With a sigh, he began to reach for the keys, but changed his mind and opened the glove compartment instead. Josh pulled out his cell phone, stepped from the car, and dialed the number from memory.
"Sam Seaborn."
Josh was momentarily taken aback. "Uh, Sam. I didn't expect you to answer the phone."
"But it's my office."
"Is Cathy on strike?"
Sam switched the phone to his other ear. "I answer my phone sometimes. What's up?"
Josh closed the car door and leaned against it. "I'm at the funeral."
"The funeral is going on right now?"
"No, it's over. But, you know, I'm still at the cemetery. I'm getting ready to head for the airport, actually. That's why I'm calling."
"I thought the thing was a week long."
"I have a meeting with Verrien--"
"And I know that he's your favorite person. Listen, Josh, I'm sure that Toby and I could take it."
"I need to come back to work."
"Okay." Sam paused. "How's Charles?"
Josh looked over and saw his cousin and Shannon standing together under a tree. He watched as she paced in angry circles, and as Charles leaned against the tree, looking at her. He said something to make her stop walking, and after a moment, she wrapped her arms around him.
"He's -- he's having a hard time."
"Well, the cocaine should take some of the edge off his grief."
"Sam, don't, okay?"
Sam blinked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean -- "
"Just...." Josh trailed off. "Anyway, I'm getting ready to head for the airport. I'll stop by the office when I get back."
"Do you need me to pick you up? We could, you know, go get some food or something."
Josh climbed back behind the wheel. "I left my car at the airport, but thanks. I'll see you later, Sam." He cast a final look in his cousin's direction, then turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.
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