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Where I Lived, And What I Lived For
Cinnamon & Violet
"Joshua!"
Josh shook his head as he walked down the hall. "Give it up."
"Whatever do you mean?" C.J. asked, falling into step with him.
"Whatever you want to talk me into that I don't want to do. Give it up."
"How do you know I want something?"
"You're giving me the big eyes."
"The big eyes?"
"Your eyes get bigger when you want something." Josh shrugged. "Give it up."
"I have it on good authority that your cousin is coming to see you today," C.J. said. "I also have it on good authority that your cousin bears a striking resemblance to John Lennon."
"Good authority?" Josh repeated, as they rounded a corner.
"Donna."
"Donna is the opposite of good authority."
"I want to be there."
"Well, considering I haven't seen him in a few years, and, you know, I'm not Yenta...."
"I just want to see if he looks like John Lennon," C.J. pleaded.
"So what if he does?"
"Then I'll have to convince him to have his way with me."
Josh laughed. "You're a sex fiend."
"He was my favorite Beatle!" She sighed. "You're not going to introduce me?"
"Nope."
"And nothing I say now will change your mind, hmm?"
"Nope."
"You're a cruel man, Josh," C.J. called, as she stepped into her office.
"I am the Walrus," he replied cheerfully.
* * *
Josh stood in the lobby, fidgeting with the bottom of his tie and occasionally checking his watch. He wondered why he was nervous. In high school and college, Charles was his best drinking buddy, or he would have been, if Josh had had drinking buddies. More importantly, he was family.
Then again, Josh thought, family makes everyone nervous.
"Let me ask you something. When was the last time you ran a comb through that mop on your head?"
Josh smiled. "Probably around the last time you took a shower."
"That long?" Charles grinned broadly. "Man, Josh Lyman."
"Charlie Ellis."
They laughed and embraced.
"Do you have bags?"
Charles wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I have one, but I left it in the car."
"Follow me." Josh stepped ahead of Charles and began walking down the corridor. "How was the drive?"
"It rained a little at the border, but I had Tom Waits in the car to keep me company."
"'Heart of a Saturday Night'?"
"'Small Change'." Charles caught up to Josh and threw an arm around him. "Seriously, man. How long with the hair? Don't they have a dress code around this place?"
"It's casual Friday."
Charles smiled. "That must be it. So what's in here?"
Josh stopped and followed Charles' gaze. "That's the Mural Room."
"Can we go in there?"
"Sure." Josh opened the door. "I've set this room on fire."
"Like, with a speech?"
"No, with matches and kindling. Actually on fire."
"And they still let you come to work here."
"God knows why."
"Maybe they feel guilty because you almost died."
The smile slowly faded from Josh's face.
"Oh, Christ, man." Charles rubbed his forehead. "I don't know why I said that."
"Well, it's the truth." Josh struggled to keep his voice light.
"I didn't come to the hospital."
"But you sent such a nice card."
"Josh--"
He waved a hand. "Can we not?"
"Absolutely." Charles paused for a moment, then grinned. "I'm glad you're not dead."
Josh found himself grinning, too. "I'm sure there are a few members of Congress who disagree with you."
Charles clapped a hand against Josh's shoulder. "So, this is the Mural Room."
"Yeah."
"It's big."
"Big room."
"Lots of murals."
"Big room full of murals."
Charles stopped looking at the walls and leveled his gaze at Josh. "I spend a hundred and forty dollars a day on drugs."
"Girl, to be with you is my favorite thing. I can't wait 'til I see you again. I wanna put on--" Sam stopped in the doorway. "Hey, Josh. Ellis!"
"Sammy!" Charles and Sam shook hands.
"I didn't know you were coming in so early."
Charles shrugged. "I tend bar. I haven't been to bed yet."
"A bartender?" Sam chuckled. "Josh must get his delicate system from the other side of the family. Listen, you guys didn't hear me singing just now, did you?"
"Singing? No," Charles deadpanned, and looked at his cousin. "Did you, Josh?"
"Huh? I -- what?"
Sam extended a hand to Charles again. "I have a meeting. Good to see you again, man. Maybe we can all get together for a beer tonight."
"Sounds good to me. See you, Sammy."
Josh watched Sam leave, then shut the door.
"So do you want to go out with Sam tonight?"
"You spend how much?"
Charles found a chair. "One forty."
"Is this a joke? Am I to find humor in this?"
"It's no joke, Josh. You know, we used to smoke pot together."
Josh ran his hands through his hair. "We were kids, of course we used to smoke pot together."
"I never stopped."
"Fine, but when did you go from smoking pot to smoking--"
"Snorting," Charles interrupted.
"Oh, that makes all the difference." Josh began pacing. "I can't believe we're talking about this. I can't believe we're talking about this in the White House. So what do you do, heroin?"
"Cocaine."
"Blow. You're snorting blow."
Charles drummed his fingers lightly against the table. "You're so hip, Josh. Always have been."
Josh moved quickly to the table and took a seat across from his cousin. "Don't make fun of me. Don't come here and tell me this and make fun of me."
Charles placed his hand flat on the table. "Sorry."
"Did you come here to ask me for money?"
He laughed. "No."
"...No."
"If I needed your money, I'd take it."
Josh's eyes burned. "You're not joking now either, are you?"
"I'm doing fine with money. Grandpa Ellis made sure of that."
Josh shook his head. "How long is his six hundred and fifty grand going to last?"
"Well, one forty times seven is nine hundred eighty--"
"You need to go." Josh stood and fished in his left pocket. "Here are directions to your hotel. Or you could just go the hell back to Baltimore."
Charles took the paper from Josh and placed it in his jacket. "I'll be at the hotel."
"Whatever."
Charles walked to the door. "He left me nine hundred and twenty-five thousand, Josh."
"You need to go."
He nodded and left the room. Josh waited until he stopped shaking, then started towards his office.
"Oh, damn, did I miss John Lennon?" C.J. pouted.
"Uh, yeah, Claudia Jean. You just missed him."
* * *
Josh entered his office and found Donna crouched next to his desk. "You know, I'm not even going to ask," he said, carefully closing the door behind him.
"I dropped an earring." She continued to crawl along the carpet. "It's blue and it's dangly, and frankly, it wouldn't kill you to help me look for it."
Josh sat and pointed to a patch of carpet on the opposite side of the room. "Over there."
Donna stood and scurried over to her earring. "Was that so hard? I'm going to the dry-cleaners. I could pick you up something to eat if--"
"Drugs."
"What?"
"Charlie. He's on drugs."
Donna sank into the chair across from Josh's desk. "Oh, my God."
Josh rubbed his forehead. "No, no, not that Charlie. My Charlie. Charles. My cousin Charles. He's on drugs."
She reached across the desk and touched his hand. "Oh, Josh."
"We were friends when we were kids. We'd see each other five, six times a year. He wanted to be a ball player."
"He'd fit right in." Josh looked at her and she smiled weakly. "That was a little joke."
"You should do stand-up." He released her hand. "Go. Go get your clothes."
"Are you going to be okay?"
He nodded. "Sure. And if I'm feeling down, maybe I'll go find Charlie and we can do a few lines together."
"You should do that."
Josh blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Not the lines part, but you should find him."
"Donna, we were in the Mural Room, and I wanted to hit him."
"Josh--"
"I wanted to hit him."
She placed her hand on the doorknob. "He's your cousin."
"Yeah," Josh said bitterly. He looked at his desk for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak. When he glanced up, he saw that Donna was gone.
* * *
"This is nice," Charles said, as he got out of the car.
Josh nodded. "It's the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial. It's my favorite one."
"He has more than one memorial?"
"I mean my favorite in the area." He leaned against the car door and looked up at the treetops. "There are all these huge, impressive marble monuments, and Roosevelt just has this island."
"It's pretty."
"Yeah. I usually head down this way."
Charles followed his cousin down a path. It was quiet, except for the breeze through the leaves and the lapping of the river. "I thought you'd call," he said.
"Yeah." Josh sighed and fell silent again.
"Awkward pause," Charles said wryly.
"What?"
"Never mind."
Josh stopped walking and looked at him. "How long?"
"Five and a half years, now."
"The last time I saw you was after my father died."
"I know."
"You were high at my father's funeral?"
Charles looked at the ground. "Most of that weekend, yeah."
"I can't believe this. You--"
"I don't get high anymore, Josh."
"--What?"
He idly kicked aside a dirt clod. "I don't get high. I don't think about getting high. Staying level costs a hundred and forty dollars a day."
"That is so..." Josh made a circular gesture. "Incredibly screwed up."
"You're telling me."
"You're smarter than this, man."
"Not really." Charles raised his eyebrows. "You were always the brains of the operation. Remember when you tried to teach me to drive your mother's car?"
"Yeah."
"We ended up stuck in the sand." Charles smiled sadly. "That was your idea."
Josh took a few steps away from him and leaned against a tree trunk. "Why are you doing this?"
"I've been a bored rich kid all my life."
"Oh, yeah, ennui's a really good reason--"
"Good enough," Charles said simply.
Josh stared at him. "No, it's not."
"Maybe not. It doesn't matter now."
"There are places you can go," Josh said, tilting his head back against the tree. "There are people you can call. I can--"
"No."
"You need help."
"No," Charles repeated. "We're not going to have an intervention out here."
"Why the hell not?"
"Did you think you could bring me out here, and the abundance of natural beauty would make me have some kind of epiphany about how I'm living some kind of life of desperation--"
"Quiet desperation," Josh said.
Charles shook his head. "You're a cold bastard."
Josh winced. "I--"
"You son of a bitch."
"You need help."
"This isn't fucking Walden Pond. There's nothing you can say to me that I don't already know. I'm a cocaine addict. And I know it." Charles walked forward and stood close to Josh, looking him in the eye. "And I don't care."
Josh reached out and shoved him by the shoulder. Charles stepped back mildly. "Why did you even come here?" Josh demanded.
"Shannon broke up with me last month."
"She deserves better."
"Yeah. She found out and she told me to get out."
"She didn't know for all this time?"
"I stay functional." He shrugged. "It took her thirty seconds to pack my suitcase, and I've spent exactly that much time worrying about it."
Josh put a hand to his temple. "You were together for what, eight years?"
"Yeah."
"You say I'm a cold bastard."
"I didn't say you were the only one."
"Why did you come here?" he asked again.
"I figured if I wasn't keeping it from Shannon anymore, I might as well be honest with a few more people." Charles frowned. "And I thought, because of where you work, you ought to know."
Josh closed his eyes in frustration. "You're going to kill yourself."
"Eventually," Charles agreed. "Or I'll get arrested. One or the other, or both."
"And that doesn't bother you either."
"Not much."
"Okay." Josh opened his eyes and looked past him, at the water and the sky. "I have to go back to work."
"I figured."
"Are you going to stay in town or go back to Baltimore?"
"What do you think I should do?"
"You know what I think you should do."
Charles sighed. "I guess I'll go home, then."
"Whatever."
"Yeah."
Josh pushed himself off the tree and started to walk back toward the car. "You know, I used to really love it out here."
* * *
Sam stood in the bullpen and studied Josh's window. "Donna?"
She stepped up behind him. "He's in there."
"The blinds are down. What's he doing?"
"Sitting in there." Donna nudged Sam gently. "Go on."
"You think I should--"
"You've known his family longer than I have. Go on."
Sam hesitated, then walked up and knocked lightly on the door. "Josh?"
"Yeah." Josh was sitting at his desk with his face buried in his hands, and did not look up as Sam entered.
"What time's your meeting with Grissom?"
"Five-thirty. Did you know John Lennon was forty years old when he died?"
Sam sat down on the couch. "I didn't, no."
"You have to wonder what he might have done with the next twenty or thirty years of his life."
"You do."
Josh raised his head. "I taught him to drive."
"John Lennon?"
"Charles." He rubbed his hands together wearily. "I got him in trouble a bunch of times when we were kids."
"Kids do that." Sam watched his friend's face with concern.
"We grew up together."
"I know."
"Even when I was at Yale, we'd hang out on the weekends. We only lived a couple of towns apart."
"Baltimore's not that far from here," Sam reassured him.
"It's far," Josh said bleakly.
"What's going on?" Sam finally asked.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Maybe you and I can get together for a beer tonight."
"You and I."
"Yes."
"We can do that." Sam stood. "You want me to take Grissom for you?"
"No, I'm on it."
"Okay."
"Lot of songs he could've written in another twenty years."
"Josh? What does John Lennon have to do with--"
"They have the same nose." Josh stood up suddenly and walked around to the door. "You sure you don't mind taking Grissom?"
"No problem."
"Thanks."
"It's really no problem."
"Yeah. I'm -- I'll be back." He put his jacket on hastily and followed Sam into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
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