"I Wish You Love"
I read the announcement in the paper this morning. It was under weddings and engagements. "Samuel Seaborn, 34, of Washington D.C., to Claudia Jean Cregg, 35, of Washington D.C."
It blows my mind.
I never thought he'd actually *do* it. I knew they were dating, but I didn't think it was this serious. I never thought I'd see Sam Seaborn, who used to pale at the word 'girlfriend,' who once asked me for a dictionary definition of the word 'commitment,' find anyone to marry. And C.J. Of all people, C.J.! Who is one of the most businesslike people I've ever met, and I would just... never think of being with Sam!
Why didn't he call me and tell me? It's kind of strange, because I get the weirdest sense of déjà vu reading the announcement. It reminds me of another time I read about him in the paper and he never called... why the hell didn't he call? As my friend, if *nothing* else, why didn't he call? Had I been in his situation, if I'd been caught with a male prostitute or something, I would have called. Just to tell him what was going on. To say, "Sam, there's nothing between us, he's my friend." If that was the case. But I never would have been in his situation. I don't even know if there are male prostitutes in DC. Well, it wouldn't surprise me if there were.
Mallory, you're rambling.
Still... why didn't my father even call me? I know he's sort of busy running a country. But I'm his daughter. I think I'm entitled to wonder.
I guess he just thought I didn't need to know. Well, maybe he's right. It's not like I'm sitting here sobbing helplessly over this little two-sentence blurb in the newspaper. I haven't had two vodka-tonics in the last hour to calm down. I'm not fighting the urge to throw things. And I most definitely did not think of calling her and screaming, "He's mine! Mine!!"
I am over it.
It just shocked me, that's all.
It's a Saturday, so I can't talk to my friends about this. Instead I just sit here at the window, like one of those B-movie Cinderellas waiting for her prince to come, staring out at the clichéd torrential rain.
He's always been like this. Single-minded and driven, hot in pursuit of a goal. Dad's at least been keeping me up on the relationship I knew they were together, but I didn't really know how serious it was getting. Maybe he didn't want me to know, though I can't imagine why.
Of course, Dad has a reason to keep up with C.J. and Sam's love life. He's still dating her mother. Don't get me wrong if Dad's happy, I'm happy but it'd be so *weird* to be related to Sam. Even by marriage.
Well, I mean, if Dad marries Eleanor Cregg. If I were married to Sam it wouldn't be weird.
I remember a conversation I had with Sam about marriage once. I asked him, only sort of tongue-in-cheek, if a big wedding was better or a small wedding. He looked me in the eyes and said, 'how 'bout no wedding?'
Why didn't that clue me in that the two of us weren't right? Before the picture of him with a call girl, I mean?
I'm just thinking about the last time I saw him. I was so rude to him. Why was I rude to him? We were at the orchestra concert. And I wanted to be so mad at him... I wanted to flaunt Richard in his face. I wanted to say something more than the 'good seats for home games' line. That was really petty, I'll admit it. I think I was rude because he called me a pain in the ass. The only person who calls me a pain in the ass is my father.
And yet, I had an opportunity to slam-dunk him, but all I wanted to do was hear him talk about Galileo. In that voice of his.
He just perseveres. It's kind of strange. You'd think that after so long dealing with law and politics that he'd acquire more cynicism. But Sam is always the same. He hasn't changed. Even back when I first met him, way, way back during that godawful tour for my students, he had this outgoing warmth about him. Not outgoing as in bubbly. Outgoing as in you can actually feel the warmth traveling from his eyes to yours. He still has that. Or at least he had it when I last saw him.
When I looked at the picture last spring I could still feel that warmth from his eyes. Only now it was directed at someone else. At that... Laurie. Is there something wrong with me that I still can't say her name without distaste? She wrecked it. Anything that Sam and I might have had, she destroyed single-handedly. But why don't I feel the same about C.J.? She's in basically the same position. If she's there I can't be. Even if I wanted to be there. Or if I ever had the chance.
I wonder if I'll be invited to the ceremony. I hope so. I don't quite know why I hope so, but I do. At the very least I hope Sam or C.J. will call me and tell me about it. Have you noticed I need to be in the loop? I think it would be interesting, if nothing else. I don't know how I would react.
C.J. will handle Sam. She handles everything else. I've always sort of admired her, for being the only woman in that bastion of male authority. And what a match of wills that will be! I've been accused of having a chip on my shoulder, but when Sam thinks he's right, nothing in the world short of direct, concrete proof will move him. And C.J. is equally as stubborn and sure of herself. I've seen her in her pressroom, running roughshod over any reporter who asks her a question she doesn't like. They'll fight a lot, but you know what they say about making up. For his sake, I hope the rumors about her being 'great in bed' are true. But still...
No, Mallory. Put down the phone.
Well, I tell myself, as I put the paper in the recycling bin, good for him. He and C.J. will make a wonderful couple. And their children will be beautiful, if they have any. His silky hair and her pretty smile. Her tall, willowy form and his bright eyes. Well, you have to give me that. The man is attractive. I've never made any secret of thinking that.
I'll call Richard today. I've been meaning to phone him and now is as good a time as any. Hopefully we can go out tonight. I will go to a nice restaurant with a sweet guy, and laugh at his jokes while drinking good wine. I'll tell him about Sam, and we'll drink a toast to the happy couple.
I won't sit at home thinking of the Icelandic orchestra, or listening to my Sinatra CDs, or watching C.J.'s press briefings with an emotion that can only be called jealousy. No. Why would I do that?
I wish him love. I wish him happiness and health and love.
I am over it.
It just shocked me, that's all.