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Happiness is...


He sat alone on the concrete bench watching the leaves fall and land 
silently on the water's surface. The small ripples morphed into large 
circles until the faded into the shore's edge. He ducked his head, 
burying his face in his scarf to protect it from the sharp, cold 
evening air. Closing his eyes he focused on the soft, rhythmic 
lapping of the reflecting pool. 

Josh was so intent on the soft murmuring that he didn't hear the 
approaching footsteps.

"You certainly are a creature of habit."

Josh didn't turn at the soft tones, he didn't have to, he knew he'd be 
found eventually when he'd left the office earlier. The voice, like 
its owner, had always seemed such a constant in his life. He's never 
really sure when or how it began, but at some point he realized that 
it wasn't ever a question of if with Sam, only a question of when. 

"What're you doing here," Josh asked as he shifted slightly on the 
cold stone, making room for Sam. "Shouldn't you be at the party?"

Sam slid onto the bench, their shoulders bumping. Josh leaned into the 
contact, absorbing the warmth and silent support. Sam, without 
looking, offered Josh one of the two cups he carried and watched as 
Josh wrapped his bare hands around the steaming cup.

"I guess I could ask you the same question since it's your party and 
all."

Taking a long drink of the bitter liquid Josh let his eyes settle 
again on the water.

"I just couldn't...not right now."

Sam silently turned to regard Josh's profile for several moments 
before returning his gaze to his friend's hands, tightly cradling 
the coffee cup. The wind tossed brightly colored leaves around them. 
Sam always marveled at the pronounced change of seasons in Washington. 
Growing up in California he'd never realized there was more to the 
year then a progression of months. Sweltering summer days gradually 
faded into the mild of winter but the year's circle seemed continuous, 
unbroken. Then he moved out east and discovered that life began and 
ended four times a year. Even in his worst years he always took 
comfort in the belief that, in three months time, he'd be given 
another chance.

Beside him, Josh closed his eyes, forcing his breath not to catch.

"Are you going to sell the house?" Sam's voice was low and gentle.

"Yeah, I packed up most of the rooms last weekend."

Josh had piled dishes upon dishes and thousands of volumes of books 
into small nondescript boxes. Indistinguishable from one another but 
for the small, handwritten titles he'd used to categorize his family's 
life. Kitchen. Photographs. Music. He boxed it all up and went 
around at the end of the day sealing each box with his tape gun. Most 
of the clothes, the instruments, most of the furniture he gave to the 
Temple his mother had frequented. Audra had taken to attending schul 
every week since her husband had passed. Josh suspected some days that 
it was the only thing that kept her going so long. 

The coffee drained from his cup, Sam began to tear the sides into 
long strips making a kind of flower emblazoned with the Starbucks' 
logo. 

Josh let out the soft sigh that usually indicated he was about to 
start a thought.

"My dad used to have this little book. One of those little 
inspirational things."

"Your dad never really seemed the type." Sam remembered Noah as a 
large man, with a barrel chest and resonating voice.

"He wasn't," a mirthless chuckle escaped his lips, "but my mom was. 
She gave it to him one year for Valentine's or their anniversary or 
something. Each page started with the same phrase: 'Happiness is...'" 
Josh still thought most of the sayings were sickly sweet and cliched.

"You know, stuff like 'Happiness is falling in love' or 'Happiness is 
stopping to smell the roses.'"

Sam couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud and was relieved when 
he saw the smile tug at his friend's mouth. It was good to see Josh 
smile, even if only for a moment.

"So Dad kept this little book in his sock drawer and whenever we 
celebrated a holiday together we'd each write something new in it." 

As the years passed they waited less and less for special occasions, 
he remembered. They settled for days they actually got to eat with 
each other, and then when those too became rare, they each took to 
writing whenever they could sneak in a few minutes. Whenever they had 
something to celebrate or simply commemorate. Eventually the book was 
so full they were writing on little yellow post it notes that were 
haphazardly stuck in.

The last thing Josh wrote before Noah died was 'Happiness is a good 
argument.' He'd just gotten involved with Mandy and was still basking 
in her ability for intelligent and topical banter. Even now, he 
thinks, that was what he enjoyed most about her, even if she was 
almost always wrong. He hadn't written anything since.

"I couldn't find it," Sam looked over at Josh, not quite sure what to 
say.

"I looked everywhere. Couldn't find it. I found this, though." Josh 
offered up a small slip of paper, frayed at the edge where it had been 
torn from a binding.

Sam took the slip and laughed out loud as he read it, "Happiness is a 
warm gun."

"Yes it is," Josh struggled to keep a straight face as he completed 
the thought. "What can I say, I was 13 and John Lennon was more 
popular than Jesus."

Sam's stomach hurt with laughter as he envisioned a pre-pubescent Josh 
crooning to the strains of The White Album.

"Dad laughed, Mom didn't think it was so great." Josh talked through 
the hiccuped laughs that sounded too close to sobs for Sam to bear.

Sam slid his free arm around Josh's shoulders and stared out over the 
reflecting pool.

When the shaking subsided Josh sat up straighter, running a hand 
through his unruly hair.

"She tore it out last year after...after Rosslyn. Guess she found it 
even less amusing."

Sam nodded silently. He remembered Audra sitting by Josh's hospital 
bed, head bowed and back bent. She sat vigil like that for days, 
leaving only when Sam and Leo came over. Sam would stay with Josh and 
watch as the old friends walked arm in arm. Sometimes it was hard to 
tell which one did the holding and which did the leaning. Sam closed 
his eyes to shake the memory and clearing his throat, changed the 
topic. 

"I think we should get you to your birthday party old man."

Josh's head whipped up, a smile tugging at his mouth. His voice, 
however, was filled with mock righteous indignation.

"Whoa, hang on. I'm 39, what's this 'old man' schtick? That whole over 
the hill thing isn't supposed to start till next year."

Sam shrugged, "We decided to start early."

"You decided?"

"We took a poll. The majority thought we needed a year to warm up."

"Judging by that pathetic excuse for a slam you just used, I'd say 
that's a wise idea. Seriously, 'old man' was the best you could come 
up with? I want you guys up to fighting weight next year so I can 
smack you down hard." 

"Josh."

"Yeah?"

"I was joking."

"No poll?"

"No poll."

"I can still take you though."

"Yeah, if Toby is sitting on my chest and CJ holds my hands." Sam 
stood and started walking back towards the White House.

Josh stood to follow, "Yeah, okay, but I'm saying in the arena of 
verbal barbs I'm like Muhammad Ali and you're like Levi Jacobson."

"Who's Levi Jacobson?"

"Kid I grew up with. Tripped over his own feet, threw punches like a 
little girl."

"So what you're saying is that Levi would get beat up by Ali?"

"He'd get taken to town by Ali's shadow."

"And who are you in this little metaphor again?" Sam couldn't suppress 
his smile.

"Ali," Josh smiled, pointing to his own chest, and then gesturing to 
Sam, "Levi."

"Okay...so what was the lesson here?"

"Don't mess with me. Or, you know, I'll sick Donna on you."

"Whatever. Donna's the one that put the poll in the field."

"You said there was no poll."

"I lied."

"Sam," as they approached the entrance Josh suddenly reached out 
grabbing Sam's arm and spoke in an urgent tone, "promise me there 
will be no singing."

"It's your birthday."

"Seriously Sam, no singing." Josh stood, rooted in place, apparently 
intent on staying until Sam relented.

"Okay, I promise, I won't sing.


"Happy Birthday to you..." the strains of the song filled the bullpen.

"You promised Sam."

"I believe I promised I wouldn't sing. You didn't really expect me to 
speak for everyone did you?"

"It's what you do for a living, you're a spokesman." Josh's voice 
wavered dangerously close to a whine.

"No. Well, yes, but CJ over there is a natural talent. A force of 
nature like that just can't be contained."

Josh smiled despite himself as the song ended. They served him the 
first slice of cake and he sat, enduring the seemingly never-ending 
stream of well wishers. 

"Josh," most of the staff had dissipated and now CJ stood in the door 
to his office, gesturing for him to join her.

He made his way to his office, his footsteps heavy and dragging. 
Stepping through the door he was greeted by a crowd of four in his 
little office. 

"Here, this is for you," Donna thrust the small package into his hands 
before he was even completely inside.

"Uh, thanks," he wove his way through the group in an attempt to reach 
his chair. Sitting he looked up to see the four expectant faces all 
staring at him.

"Well," CJ moved the files from one corner of his desk and sat.

"Well what?"

"We're not here for our health Josh, open the present."

"Oh, yeah, okay." 

To the amazement of all those gathered Josh didn't rip into the 
package. Instead he carefully unwrapped it, methodically undoing the 
tape and smoothing out the creases in the navy blue paper. His mother 
had always saved such things: wrapping paper, bows, and even ribbon to 
be used again for someone's birthday or Bar Mitzvah. He finished his 
precise removal of the gift-wrap and placed it on the coffee table. In 
his hand he held a plain box no bigger than a greeting card and only 
about and inch and a half deep.

Josh paused, looking up at his friends he began to laugh at their 
amused, expectant faces.

"So nothing's going to pop out of here or anything right?" he managed 
to say between chuckles.

"Josh," Donna's exasperation couldn't hide her amusement.

"I'm just saying."

"We wouldn't do that to you."

"Yeah, right, that's just the sort of thing you'd do to me."

"No, we wouldn't," CJ looked down at him from her perch, her face 
serious. "You know why we wouldn't?"

"'Cuz I'm such a good guy," he guessed.

"'Cuz we were afraid for your nearly forty year old heart!" the words 
slipped out before she could stop them. Eighteen months later and she 
still felt she walked an invisible tight rope. The smile on Josh's 
face assured her that she hadn't crossed the line, though. She 
returned the smile and allowed her voice to rise to an authoritative 
pitch. "Now open the damn box!"

"Wow, I'm really feeling the love over here."

"Josh..." Toby voice came out in a low growl as he ran his fingers 
over his scalp in a way that told Josh that he was treading very near 
the brink of unbearably obnoxious.

Josh smirked as started to pull the lid off the small box, "Okay but 
I'm not doing it because you threatened me. I just decided it was the 
right time."

"Seriously, for one minute could you just stop being like twelve 
years old."

"It's my birthday."

"Josh!" the four spectators said together.

"All right...Hey I hope you guys put the receipt in here. It really 
does makes returning much easier..." Josh's voice faded away as he saw 
the title of the enclosed volume.

Happiness is...

For one of the very few times in his life Josh Lyman was rendered 
absolutely speechless. He looked up at his friends, silently 
questioning.

"Your mom sent it to me a couple weeks before...a couple weeks before 
your birthday," Donna offered in explanation. "She said she thought 
that you'd want it."

He opened the new cover and flipped through the volume. He found that 
all the pages were also new. All the original phrases had been 
photocopied onto letter quality euchre paper. The hand written notes, 
those in the margins and on post it notes, were also photocopied so as 
to preserve the handwriting and authorship. 

"You did this?" Josh voice sounded unsure and hollow in his head as he 
looked at Donna.

"Well, we all kind of did." Donna glanced over at the other woman 
in the room. "It was CJ's idea, you know, to have it rebound like 
that."

"Yeah, but I was just the muse. Donna here did most of the work." 
CJ smiled at the younger woman.

"Hey, we helped too." Sam spoke up, gesturing to himself and Toby.

"Saying 'hey that's a good idea, go to it' is not considered helping 
Spanky."

"We lent moral support." 

"And technically, they were the financiers." Donna relented.

Sam took a step forward throwing an arm around Donna's shoulder, 
a smug smile playing across his face, "See, teamwork."

"Wow..." Josh mumbled as he paged through the book, the new binding 
creaking in his hands. "I don't know what to say. I mean...thanks. 
Thank you."

He closed the book, holding it between his palms like a prayer hymnal 
and looked at each of his friends. 

Sam recognized the thickness in Josh's voice and took the opportunity 
to herd everyone towards the door. There was a chorus of 'your 
welcome' and an offer for drinks later as they all filed out. As Sam 
stood in the doorway, his hand on the knob, Josh looked up and 
mouthed a silent 'thank you'.

Sam nodded and pulled the door closed behind him. 



The book remained in his office, tucked reverently on the shelf 
between a picture of his parents and Joanie and a photo of the Senior 
Staff with President Bartlet at the inauguration ball. 

Josh wasn't sure when it began but he wasn't surprised when, one day 
as he was flipping through the small book, he came across new entries. 

Happiness is...

...an unsolicited cup of coffee.

...a secret plan to fight inflation.

...being sure of things like longitude and latitude.

...a bad poker face.

...a second chance.