Images of Home

by: Ginny

Category: Post-ep to The Indians in the Lobby
Pairing: Josh/Donna
Characters: Josh and Donna
Rating: YTEEN

I take one last glance over my shoulder. Donna is waving at me with a smile on her face that can't quite hide the worry that I know is there. I didn't want her to bring me to the airport. I could have taken a cab. But she insisted. Guess she wanted to make sure I got on the right flight. I mean, my travel plans have changed about a dozen times in the last 24 hours, so I could see where her concern might be valid.

She walked me to the gate and waited until my flight was called. We stood together and looked at each other awkwardly until she kissed me on the cheek and gave me a quick hug. She wished me a safe trip and turned to leave.

I give the gate attendant my ticket and head down the jet way. Donna managed to get me a first class ticket. Which is good, because right now I could use a little pampering. A flight attendant takes my coat and tries to take my backpack but I decide to keep it with me. There's a bottle of Advil in there and I could use a few before we take off. I did call my Mom myself early today and told her I wouldn't make it in time for dinner. She didn't sound too upset, probably cause she wasn't very surprised.

At first I wasn't going to go home for Thanksgiving. Well, I'm still not going home. I'm going to visit my mother, in Florida, where she's lived for the past 10 months. But it is not my home.

And for the record I admit that for a second I did forget where she lived. Sue me. It's been a long month. I've had other things on my mind.

Wait, that came out wrong. I think about my mom all the time. I love my mother. We talk on the phone at least once a week, I email her all the time. Donna emails her all the time too. I'm sure they talk more often than once a week.

I think that should probably bother me. But it doesn't.

Anyway, back to Donna.

As much as she teased me about my momentary lapse in memory she knew I was upset and more than a little apprehensive about going. Ten months ago when Mom sold the house Donna and I drove up there to help. I had been planning on going alone but Donna insisted on going with me. And I will be eternally grateful that she went with me.

I was in the midst of my breakdown last December when Mom called and told me she had sold the house. I knew it was coming but I still wasn't quite prepared for it. I knew it was the best for her but going there and packing things up was one of the hardest things for me to do. Donna knew that was going to be hard on me so she invited herself to go along. And I am glad she did. In addition to being incredibly helpful when it came to the actual packing she held Mom and I together like no one else could.

The night before we came back to DC I was outside sitting on the bench my Dad and I had built in the garden when I was about 12. Donna and my Mom were in the house packing up the last of the stuff I wanted to bring back with me. As we packed I could feel myself starting to shake and lose control. Excusing myself I grabbed my coat and went out to the backyard. Mom started after me but I remember Donna holding her back, telling her to let me be. I remember shards of vivid memories bursting into my mind like lightning, coming and going in an instant. Joanie, Dad, my grandparents, Rosslyn.

I think I was only out there for about 20 minutes before Donna came out but it seemed a lot longer. She came out with the quilt that had been on my bed for most of my youth. She wrapped it around my shoulders. It smelled like Tide, Dad's pipe and the cedar chest where it had been stored since I graduated from college. I motioned for her to sit down next to me. She held out a cup of coffee. One of the only half dozen or so cups she's ever gotten for me.

Anyway, she sat with me, handed me tissues and gently rubbed my back while I cried. I think it was at that moment that I fell in love with her. I mean, here was my assistant who spent nearly 7 hours in the car with me, through a snowstorm, endless construction on the New Jersey Turnpike and traffic in New York City. I'm sure she had better things to do that weekend. But she gave up those plans to help me through a rough time. Cause that's the kind of person she is.

By the time the coffee was gone and the tissue box was empty I was utterly exhausted and freezing. Donna led me back into the house and steered me towards the shower, while she went to make some hot chocolate. Donna, Mom and I stayed up until well after midnight. Mom and I regaled Donna with stories about my Dad, Joanie and my grandparents. Mom told Donna plenty of embarrassing stories about me too. Donna was genuinely interested in them. I think she was just trolling for blackmail material.

The next day we packed up my car. Donna said goodbye to my Mom and went to get the car warmed up. Mom and I stood in the front yard, looking back up at the house. Mom held herself together pretty well. She still had a few days in the house before she started the drive to Florida. I had wanted her to ship the car and fly down but she insisted that she was perfectly able to make the trip. And, as usual, she was right. I gave her one last hug and took one last look at the house before I stumbled to the car trying to see through my tear filled eyes. Donna was waiting with the heat blasting and a fresh box of tissues on the dashboard. She said nothing as I buckled up. She held out a mittened hand towards me. I gave it a big squeeze before dropping it so she could put the car in gear.

After one more stop we would be on our way.

Fifteen minutes later Donna pulled into the cemetery. I directed her to the gravesite. We got out and she hung back, trying to let me go by myself. I remember taking her by the hand and together we walked to the headstones that marked the graves of my father and my sister. I knelt down and brushed the snow from the marble stones and then dug in the snow, looking for small stones to leave. My hands were bare and the cold went right through me. Donna knelt next to me and with her mittened hands quickly found 4 stones for us to use. I bowed my head and muttered a prayer I didn't even know I remembered. Donna stood next to me, her hand making small circles on my back; comforting me, as only she knew how.

After a few minutes Donna pressed two stones in my hand. She placed hers on the tops of the gravestones and told me to take my time. I only stayed a minute or two longer. I was too cried out for more tears and I was so emotionally and physically exhausted that I didn't think my legs would hold me up much longer.

Donna said nothing when I got back in the car. She brushed the back of her hand across my cheek before reaching into the back seat for the quilt. She covered me up and told me to get some rest. I had planned on closing my eyes for a few minutes but the next thing I remember was going over the Delaware Memorial Bridge.

We said very little during the trip back to DC. Most of the time was spent in silence. I still wasn't able to listen to much music at that time. We did put on NPR for a while but even that got on my nerves. We stopped to eat; or rather we stopped so Donna could eat. I tried but couldn't get much down. I know I was beginning to worry Donna but still she kept quiet.

When we got back into the city it was starting to get dark. We unloaded everything quickly and just dumped it in my living room. Donna steered me towards my room and tucked me in. She stayed that night, on the couch, as she had stayed for nearly 2 months while I was recovering. I had expected a nightmare to disrupt my sleep that night. But one never came. I think it had to do with the fact that Donna was there, looking after me.

So here I am now. Thanksgiving Day. On a flight to Florida.

As I reach into the outside pocket for the Advil I pull out an envelope with my name on it, written in a very familiar distinctive scrawl. I open it and pull out a note and two photographs. One is of my Mom and I standing in front of the house the morning Donna and I headed back home. Our backs are to the camera; obviously Donna took it from the car. I have my arm around Mom's waist and she is resting her head on my shoulder. I reach into my back pocket for my handkerchief because something tells me I'm going to need it. I put it in my lap and look at the other photo. It's a small, black and white photograph, slightly wrinkled and yellowed with age. It shows the same house in the background. In the foreground is my family. I'm in my father's arms, wrapped in a blanket. I think I can assume it is the day I came home from the hospital. Joanie is standing between Mom and Dad, holding their hands. She is smiling widely for the camera, showing off the fact that she's missing her two front teeth. I run my fingers over the image as I feel the tears well up in my eyes. Taking one last glance I put the photos in my shirt pocket, next to my heart. I wipe my face and open up the note.

~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~

God, if I don't stop blubbering people are going to start staring and before you know it my picture will be in the paper. I pull myself together, take two Advil and finish my bottle of water. Tucking Donna's note into my pocket with the photos I look out at the fading light as the DC skyline disappears from view.

THE END

| Wired and Sappy | Tired and Whiny | Backwards and Baffling | Tied |
| Thoughts and Decisions | Instant Hope | Images of Home |
| Water Balloons and the Big Question | Generic Comfort | To Be Twelve Again |
| Just Us..Nothing More, Nothing Less | Aita i papu ia'u | At Least It Wasn't Hawaii |
| The Road to Normalcy |

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