Some Ghosts Ain't Scary
west wing. c.j., josh, crackpots and these women. g. "he feels like they're in a room full of ghosts" for pythiaprophet: forgive me I am soooo rusty. (title is stolen)
"I saw my therapist today," Josh reflects forgetting, for an instant, that no one knew he saw one to begin with. C.J. has a beer neck tucked between her fingers when she shoots him a quizzical look and he stretches out before sinking into himself. "He canceled an appointment for me, you know? I don't remember why I stopped seeing him."
"You started working at the White House," she says and it's meant to be light, but it's too heavy a truth.
He snorts bringing him back out of it for a while, long enough to notice she's holding something back. Her mouth opens, but her eyes drop away from him and her teeth grab at her lips. She chugs whatever was left in the bottle and it's enough to make her consumption uncomfortable.
"C.J.?"
Her head jumps up to him and he has a look on his face that needs an explanation. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm thinking of letting you in on something. I just - I don't really know how to say it. I don't want to say it. It's Chili Night," is what she gives him.
Josh sits without necessarily waiting. It would have been nice if she didn't drink the rest of that beer.
"My mom died when I was sixteen, Josh. Seventeen really, but my mom died and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel it. God, she was so sick..." she licks her lips and he can see that she isn't with him, she's there or somewhere between there and in the room. "You hear people say that they're happy. That they went peacefully and are finally out of their misery. I want to be one of those people, Josh, I really do... Anyway, I just - I wanted you to know that." C.J. sighs, her eyes still on the floor. Josh cups her hand before her back and shoulders and it takes her a moment to realize that he's hugging her.
He feels like they're in a room full of ghosts and maybe they are, but right now, with her arms squeezing him back, they aren't as cold.
He might just find a way to live with them.
"I saw my therapist today," Josh reflects forgetting, for an instant, that no one knew he saw one to begin with. C.J. has a beer neck tucked between her fingers when she shoots him a quizzical look and he stretches out before sinking into himself. "He canceled an appointment for me, you know? I don't remember why I stopped seeing him."
"You started working at the White House," she says and it's meant to be light, but it's too heavy a truth.
He snorts bringing him back out of it for a while, long enough to notice she's holding something back. Her mouth opens, but her eyes drop away from him and her teeth grab at her lips. She chugs whatever was left in the bottle and it's enough to make her consumption uncomfortable.
"C.J.?"
Her head jumps up to him and he has a look on his face that needs an explanation. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm thinking of letting you in on something. I just - I don't really know how to say it. I don't want to say it. It's Chili Night," is what she gives him.
Josh sits without necessarily waiting. It would have been nice if she didn't drink the rest of that beer.
"My mom died when I was sixteen, Josh. Seventeen really, but my mom died and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel it. God, she was so sick..." she licks her lips and he can see that she isn't with him, she's there or somewhere between there and in the room. "You hear people say that they're happy. That they went peacefully and are finally out of their misery. I want to be one of those people, Josh, I really do... Anyway, I just - I wanted you to know that." C.J. sighs, her eyes still on the floor. Josh cups her hand before her back and shoulders and it takes her a moment to realize that he's hugging her.
He feels like they're in a room full of ghosts and maybe they are, but right now, with her arms squeezing him back, they aren't as cold.
He might just find a way to live with them.