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“You started smoking again.”
CJ looks up at the sound of Josh’s voice, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. The evening air is a welcome relief from the stuffy bar. It’s breezy but not so much that she needs a coat over her ‘Rock the Vote’ t-shirt.
“Never really stopped,” she answers cooly.
This is only half true. She’s been smoking a lot more since Simon died but she doesn’t want Josh getting on her.
It was bad enough everyone knew he died. She couldn’t stand the humiliation of their pity.
“How’re you holding up?”
CJ shrugs, eager to end the conversation, “Fine.”
Josh fidgets, shifting his weight back and forth.
“Charlie told me what happened.”
CJ sighs. She knew this would turn into something after their conversation last week.
A softer version of herself would find it sweet that Charlie cared so much.
He’d come into her office late that night—mascara tracked her cheeks, the ballgown hugging her curves too tightly.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
She looked up, confused.
“What?”
“You’re the toughest person I know. A kid comes into your office and calls you a bitch. And you didn’t say anything.”
“He has to be mad at someone.”
“It shouldn’t be you.”
“Charlie, if I hadn’t said something stupid at the podium, if I hadn’t taken the protection, if I hadn’t been in New York and if I hadn’t kissed him, Simon would still be alive.”
“I know you think that; I get it. But it’s not true. I’m starting to understand that for myself.”
“You know maybe you guys would be able to keep women around if you spent less time worrying about my personal life and a little more time worrying about yours.”
“I know you’re paranoid right now,” Josh hedges, “I know it feels like you can’t trust anyone but that’s not true. It’s the trauma talking.”
“I’m not traumatized,” she bites back.
“You are, CJ. You were the day I met you. And there’s about ten reasons it’s gotten worse since we took office.”
Josh studies her, his voice softening, “I know a little something about survivors guilt, CJ.”
Her head snaps up at that.
“You think I don’t?” she laughs humorlessly, “You think I didn’t spend every minute waiting for that ambulance wishing it was me? You think I wouldn’t have taken your place in a second?”
CJ tosses the rest of her cigarette on the ground, stomping it out.
“Fuck you Josh. Fuck you for getting shot.”
“What else you got?”
“Fuck him for making me care about him and getting himself killed.”
“Feel better?”
“No,” CJ voice cracks which only makes her angrier. She doesn’t want to cry in front of him but it’s too late.
“Fuck Charlie for saying something. Fuck all of you for thinking I can’t take care of myself and do my job.”
Josh steps closer to her, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
CJ breaks then, sobs wracking her thin frame.
Josh reaches out to catch her, hugging her fiercely.
He holds her close, hands smoothing across her back.
“There is a man in that bar who would walk through fire for you. Let him.”
She pulls away to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. Josh reads the uncertainty on her face.
“He was worrying about you the whole time we were separated from the motorcade.”
CJ smiles sadly, “He’s too good to me.”
“I resent that, and so would he.”
Josh loops an arm through hers, “Let’s go back inside. Let me buy you a Grasshopper. I wont make a peep about how green it is.”
The grief stings all over her body but when she laughs, CJ remembers for a second that it won’t last forever.