It's All Relative Part 7
It’s All Relative (Chapter 7/Continuing) HbH: hawkbehere2@yahoo.com
DWP: 7th chapter of It’s All Relative started with Chapter 1 at www.ralst.com. Continuity warning!! This starts right where Chapter 6 left off, so you might want to read the last few paragraphs of that before starting this. This is rated R. Feedback would be lovely…
***
Andy won the first hand. Putting her last card down, she smiled triumphantly and firmly said “UNO.”
Miranda looked over her half glasses. “My, my. You do like winning, don’t you? I think perhaps we need to work under the same handicap. Change seats with me.”
“What? Why? That chair’s more comfortable for you with-”
“Change seats with me because I asked nicely.”
Andy stood, rounded the rolling table and sat in the recline-a-bit. Miranda took the visitor’s chair with her back to the room door. She loosened her robe and Andy felt a rush of surreal incredulity as Miranda looked her in the eyes and unbuttoned three buttons of her silk pajama top, pulling them slightly aside. The effect was everything Miranda could have hoped for-leaving the younger woman looking slightly like a wholly shocked and gigged fish.
Andy immediately realized her mouth was hanging open, which couldn’t possibly be attractive. She snapped it shut, swallowed but found the only thing she was able to formulate was an, “Oh my God,” and that in a whisper. She stared at the woman’s breasts, the lines of her collarbones, her beautiful neck, that expanse of lovely, flawless skin.
“Oh, Miranda,” Andy whispered, as she looked up into the woman’s eyes, “You are so incredibly beautiful.” The obvious desire Miranda had counted on but the aching tenderness and the welling of tears in those brown eyes were so wholly unexpected that she felt her heart actually skip a beat. She stared at Andy, trying to believe what she was seeing in those eyes, trying to believe she understood what was actually happening. She took a sip of water and was embarrassed to see her hand was trembling. As she put the cup down, Andy gently touched her hand and they twined their fingers.
Andy licked her lips and said in a shaking voice. “Miranda…I know we’re teasing each other and talking about dating but if this happens, it’s going to be very important, very serious for me.” She hesitated, then tried to sound more self-assured, “If this is just fun for you or it can’t be real for you because of…” she chuckled unhappily, “God, there’s a laundry list-your job, your status, your kids, our ages, our families, the gay thing-any reason, just tell me now. Please.” Her eyes were imploring, “We’re at different places in our lives and you’re tied to so much more than I am and you know so much more than I do so tell me. Let’s not do this if you know we really can’t. It would break my heart.”
Well yes, as Miranda had thought, this was actually happening. She cleared her throat and held Andy’s hand more tightly. “What we are doing is completely unreasonable, quixotic and probably insane. But this will happen despite every reason you mentioned and one hundred others I could think of right off the top of my head. It will happen because, my darling Andy, when I say I never want you to leave me, I’m not being hyperbolic. I mean I never want you to leave me. I’m very serious. I can’t lose you again.”
Andy closed her eyes in relief for a few moments, then leapt up, leaned over the table and kissed her with a smile so bright that, as she took her seat again, Miranda actually laughed a real, full-throated, lusty laugh.
“Jesus, Miranda. I didn’t know you could laugh like that.”
“It is a rarity. I have to be surprised by happiness.”
“Then we’ll have to work on the frequency of that.”
“We’ll see.” Miranda gave her a half smile before she began to button her pajama top and as she did so, her normally cool and virtually expressionless demeanor returned, which did not surprise Andy one bit. She was learning that Miranda could be quite sweet but doling out more than small servings of sensitivity made her uncomfortable and testy.
As Miranda tied her robe, she huffed as if nothing of importance had been said, “Honestly Andrea, the discussions we get into playing a friendly game of UNO.”
Andy shuffled the deck, “Actually, I think the problem was the topless game of UNO part.”
“Your idea entirely, if I remember correctly.”
Andy dealt the cards, “I am not topless, Miranda.”
“Spare me that quibble. You may as well be. That sheathe leaves nothing to the imagination.”
“Really? What color are my nipples?”
Miranda’s cheeks felt a bit warm, “I’m sure I don’t know and that’s purely a technicality.”
“Please! You don’t think of colors as technicalities, Priestly. And even if you did, that’s a technicality you may find interesting one day. I know what color your nipples are-and I find that very interesting.”
Miranda rolled her eyes, “Oh my God. I need a drink.”
“Sure, sweetie. Apple juice? Ginger ale?”
“More along the lines of Scotch.”
Andy immediately buttoned her shirt and put a cool hand on Miranda’s warm cheek, “You need ginger ale. I can tell you’re at least a cup low.”
***
Miranda won the next hand, naturally, and as she did so, the younger woman found it amazing how incredibly fully a person could gloat with an utter lack of expression. She looked at the clock and reluctantly began to pack the cards, saying “I need to get home, sweetheart.”
“I know,” Miranda said as stood and took off her robe, “could you help me to the bathroom before you leave?”
Andy grinned, “Absolutely, Miranda. Your health and safety are my top concerns.”
As they entered the bathroom and closed the door, Miranda turned and pulled Andy into a hug. Although Andy couldn’t know it, their discussion had only ratcheted up Miranda’s sexual desire. Although Miranda couldn’t know it, their discussion had dispelled most of Andy’s and she merely found it immensely comforting just to hold the other woman. She ran one hand up Miranda’s back, then ran her fingers gently over the soft skin of her neck and feathered the even softer white hair at her hairline. She whispered, “I’m going to miss you so much tonight.”
Miranda pulled back just enough to look into Andy’s eyes, “Show me. Kiss me.”
Andy kissed her gently and chastely. Miranda parted her lips as she sighed and their mouths met again. A firm hand on her neck combined with the slow, gentle exploration of her mouth told Miranda that her partner wanted to control the heat and depth of this kiss. So they kissed slowly, enjoying the softness of each others' lips, their tongues only lightly brushing each other.
But, as they kissed, Miranda found herself overwhelmed by flashes of feelings-this was an end, Andrea was leaving her again, she wouldn’t come back. Andrea could not leave her. Could never leave her. This would never, ever be enough. And then an enormous flashgun went off in her mind and she thought Oh. My. God.
Holding Andy with one arm, she used her other hand to slide under the white button-down until she was touching the sheer cloth covering the younger woman’s side. Andy moaned into her mouth and the kiss was instantly much deeper. Miranda slid her pinky finger beneath the boundary between jeans and sheer cloth and languidly moved her hand around the woman’s side until she reached her lower back. She pulled Andy closer from above and below. Both women could feel each others' hardened nipples and Miranda could feel Andy’s mound right above hers.
Andy moaned again as she felt Miranda reach into her pants until her hand was firmly right above her ass. She pulled an astonished Andy forward with surprising strength and ground the girl against her, thrusting her tongue deeply into her mouth. Andy was an expert at following instructions, so she took over, grabbing Miranda’s hips and grinding herself against the woman. The angle was really entirely wrong but the friction and the fact that it was Miranda who was relentlessly tongue-fucking her was spreading sensation deliciously downward.
She was so lost in the very idea of Miranda that she barely registered the woman’s releasing her grip on her upper back. But she certainly registered the woman’s hand as it covered her breast and squeezed it. When Miranda found her nipple, she circled it, then tugged in the same rhythm as Andy’s thrusts against her. Soon, Miranda heard and felt Andy’s breathing becoming erratic, her thrusting more frantic. When the heat and movement became almost feverish, Miranda broke their kiss and said in her coolest command voice, “Come, Andrea” at the very moment she pinched Andy’s nipple very, very hard.
That was enough to send Andy right over the top and she dropped her mouth into Miranda’s shoulder in order the to stifle her cry. Miranda stopped all movement except to wrap Andy in a gentle hug as she caught her breath.
When they finally released each other, Andy was struck by the look of shock and perturbation on Miranda’s face.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” Andy’s mind jumped forward, “Oh my God. Did I hurt you? Do you need to sit down?”
Miranda shook her head but didn’t meet Andy’s eyes. “No. I’m fine but maybe I should get into bed. I’ll brush my teeth and be right out.”
Andy left the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She sort of plopped onto Miranda’s bed and ran her hands through her hair. As an exquisitely accurate reader of Miranda’s moods, she knew something was very wrong. She vaguely entertained the idea of thinking about what that might be but decided against it. She’d know, or wouldn’t, soon enough.
In a few minutes Miranda emerged and Andy jumped up to help her. Miranda didn’t look at her, merely waved her off. “I’m fine, Andrea. I don’t need your help.”
Andy’s stomach lurched and she took a deep breath.
When Miranda had settled into bed, she asked, “Would you please bring a chair over so I can speak to you.”
“Of course, Miranda.” Andy grabbed a chair and braced herself emotionally.
Miranda finally looked at her. “I want to apologize.”
Andy couldn’t discern whether the deep flush in the woman’s face was because of their earlier passion or deep embarrassment. “For what, exactly?”
Miranda leaned back against her pillows. “You were kissing me very sweetly and that should have been enough. That was appropriate-we kiss each other goodnight and then we date for a while and only then do we…” She shook her head as if to clear it, “I don’t know what came over me.”
Before Andy could reply, Miranda held up a hand to stop her. “That’s not true. I know exactly what came over me.” Miranda opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then stared into Andy’s eyes. There was such raw anxiety in those blue eyes that it took Andy’s breath. “Will you listen to me very carefully, Andrea? I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you and I’ll never repeat it.”
“Of course.”
Miranda took a deep breath. “In every way except the physical, I feel like I’ve been starving all my life. Nothing has ever satisfied me. Nothing has ever filled me. As wealthy as I am, sometimes I feel like that image of the grubby, penniless starving child with its face pressed up against the glass front of a restaurant.” She smiled briefly and mirthlessly at this absurdity.
“I wake up empty and hungry and I go to bed empty and hungry every day of my life and it’s made me what I am. It’s made me a bitch and it’s made me a success because no one is hungrier than I am.” Her voice softened, “I thought having children would help. And they did. They took the edge off because at least I can ensure that they don’t grow up feeling the way I do.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes for a few moments, something for which Andy, who was about to cry, was grateful.
Miranda continued, “I’ve lived in the hope all these years that I wouldn’t always be empty. And then oddly enough, something happened. More than a year ago now. Something happened and I began to feel that there was something out there. But I didn’t know what it was. It was as if I looked into the restaurant just as a waiter passed by with something. But quickly. Too quickly. And I hadn’t expected the waiter to come from that direction so I only caught it out of the corner of my eye. But I knew I’d seen it. It existed. The one thing I needed existed.”
Miranda opened her eyes and turned to Andy. “Then one day, it was just…gone. I turned around and even the window was gone. I didn’t even know what it was but I knew it was gone and all hope for it was gone.”
Tears filled Miranda’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. “And since I lost even the hope for it, I have been angrier and emptier and hungrier than I have ever been in my life.”
Miranda wiped her cheeks but the tears continued to well, continued to fall.
“Believe it or not-and I know you will-I can be quite obtuse about my feelings. These few days, since you walked back into my life, I’ve wondered what on Earth has gotten into me. What’s been wrong with me. I don’t date women. I don’t beg them to stay with me. I don’t panic thinking about their leaving leave me. I chalked it up to the facts that we’re friends, I care deeply for you, we’re oddly compatible and I’m simply physically attracted to you. But when you held me and kissed me tonight and I knew you were leaving me, I finally, finally understood.”
She fiercely wiped the tears from her eyes and Andy flinched as she pounded the bed with one fist, “And that is why I made a fool of myself in the bathroom. I truly could hardly help myself. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’ve been starving for you.”
Andy exhaled forcefully, feeling like someone had literally reached into her chest and squeezed her heart and she knew the shock she felt must be entirely visible on her face.
Indeed. Miranda noted this. “So there you have it. Now that I’ve made my stupid, insipid little confession, I wouldn’t blame you if you ran for the hills. It sounds crazy and pathetic and I feel crazy and pathetic having said it.”
Andy heard the slight tone of angry defiance in the woman’s voice, her signal that she was ready to suffer the rejection she was sure would come. How to react to such a stunning and painful admission? From Miranda, of all people? Andy smiled. Obviously, almost as if it hadn’t happened at all.
“It doesn’t sound crazy or pathetic, sweetheart” she said lightly as she stood, kissed Miranda on the cheek, tenderly on the lips, then sat back down. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Jesus, I was almost begging you for reassurance earlier and now at least I know that you actually, secretly do like me.”
Miranda searched her face for the truth of the statement, then pursed her lips, although her eyes were shining with affection. She hastened to add. “You do know, don’t you-I want to make sure you understand that although what I said is true, I’m still going to be what I am, for better or worse. I’m still going to be me.”
Andy rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t want you any other way. If you became all sweetness and light, I’d kill you. Now, about this bathroom thing. You certainly didn’t make a fool of yourself. I obviously wanted you just as much as you wanted me. So don’t be sorry about that. I’m not.”
Miranda tilted her head skeptically, “You’re not sorry that the first time we had sex was standing in a bathroom with no lock on the door? Really?” Her eyes narrowed, “Or have you done this sort of thing before?”
Andy snorted a laugh and crossed herself, “Cross my heart, I have never, ever done anything like this. But I’m really not sorry I did it with you. As far as the first time is concerned, the first time we make love, there won’t be any clothes involved and we’ll be in a bed. The only thing I’m sorry about is that it wasn’t reciprocal.”
Miranda waved a dismissive hand, “That’s immaterial.”
“Not to me.”
“You’ll just have to owe me.”
“I’ll owe you with interest.”
“Yes. Compound interest that accrues daily.”
“Wow. I’d better get to work soon then and don’t think I’m not looking forward to it. Anyone who can make me-“ Here Andy stopped, not knowing what words Miranda liked and didn’t like. People could be so picky about sex terminology and this was the pickiest person she’d ever known.
Sensing the issue, Miranda offered dryly, “Use whatever language you like. I’ve heard it all and have probably used it all. I’ve been known to have a remarkably dirty mouth in bed.”
Andy’s eyes lit up, “O-kay. That’s just so….beyond hot. What was I saying? Oh yeah. Anyone who can make me come in about 2.5 minutes standing in a hospital bathroom fully clothed-I gotta say, if I were wearing a hat, it’d be off to you.”
Miranda smiled, a real smile, and said with a lovely Southern drawl, “Why thank ya, ma’am. I certainly do appreciate it. My pleasure, entirely.”
At that moment, Nan entered, “Oh hi, Andy-I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Yep. Just winding up our visit.”
“I won’t bother you then. Ms. Priestly, you’re not scheduled for anything tonight except pain meds if you need them. I can also give you a little Benadryl if you have trouble sleeping. So let me know if you need anything.”
“I think I would like some Benadryl in about an hour. I’m sure you know hospitals aren’t conducive to good sleep.”
“I know I couldn’t sleep in one. I’ll bring it by later.”
“Thank you, Nan.”
The door closed and Miranda said, “Alone at last.”
Which put a gleam in Andy’s eyes.
“Oh dear. What are you thinking, Andrea?”
“I was just wondering if you were…still a little excited from our encounter earlier?”
Miranda gave Andy a look that made her shiver and said in a low tone that made her shiver again. “Andrea, are you asking me if I’m still wet and whether, perhaps, when you leave I might be inclined to assist myself in some way?”
Andy gulped and nodded.
“Yes to both questions.”
Andy gave her a puppy-dog look.
“And now I believe you’re asking if, perhaps, I’d do it front of you?”
Another nod.
“How interesting. Would you really like to watch?”
“You don’t know how much. I could…I could even help.”
“Could you now? Even with the knowledge that a nurse or nurse tech might barge into this room at any time? They almost never knock and you know it.” Miranda raised one eyebrow and smirked. “Aren’t you a dark horse? Sex in public places. Who knew? Somehow, if I’d ever thought about it in the past, I would have painted you so very vanilla. Back to the subject-pray tell me, Andrea, exactly how would you help me?”
Although Andy was pleased Miranda had regained her emotional equilibrium, she knew she had to take the slightly evil, mischievous glint in those blue eyes with that recovery. She chewed her bottom lip.
“Cat got your tongue, Andrea?”
Andy glared at her and read consummate amusement in Miranda’s expression.
“Would you like me to help you tell me how you might help me, Andrea?”
Andy gave that smart-ass question the look it deserved and her tone was snotty, “Yes please, Miranda.”
“Alright. I assume you might touch me, correct?”
Andy nodded, gritted her teeth and cursed her biology for causing most of her blood to rush to her face, which naturally, Miranda noticed.
“Where would you touch me, Andrea? My breasts? Or would you be bolder? Would you touch my…what shall we call it? Hmmmm. How about pussy? It’s a vulgarism, of course, but a good word. Would you like to venture a guess why I think so?”
“Oh no, thank you. I’d rather hear it from you.”
“Of course you would, dear. A pussycat is a delightful furry creature that exists solely to be petted, loved and adored. I’m sure you can see the analogy and I believe the analogy is apt. So let’s call it that. Would you touch my pussy, Andrea?”
In past encounters with the insufferably smug look that was now on Miranda’s face, Andy had wanted to smack it off. Now she just wanted to fuck it off.
Whether she’d read her face or read her mind, Miranda suddenly laughed, entirely delighted, and raised her hands. “Alright, spoilsport, I’ll stop. And although I’d love to accommodate your original request, I think we’ve pressed our luck enough tonight. After all, you’re not the one who’d end up a headline on Page Six-‘Miranda Priestly Caught in Hospital Masturbatory Sex Romp!’”
“It’d sell a lot of papers.”
“That it would.”
“Hell, I know I’d read it.”
Miranda grinned, then sighed as she caught sight of the clock, “You really need to leave, my love. I’ve kept you long enough. I don’t like to think of your riding the subway at this hour.”
“I’m a big girl, Miranda. I’ll be okay and I’ll call you when I get home. Oh-if Emily says ‘thank you’ tomorrow, remember it’s for the flowers you sent her on Friday.”
“I sent Emily flowers on Friday? My Emily?”
Andy nodded, “Technically, I did. But you did to thank her for saving your life.”
“My God. How sentimental of me.”
“Just say ‘you’re welcome’, okay?”
“I always find your etiquette lessons so edifying, Andrea.”
“Shut up, Priestly.” She stood, kissed Miranda and grabbed her bag, “Any last orders, chief?”
“Yes. Just one.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
Miranda sighed, “Having just suffered a gunshot wound, would you mind not using that particular colloquialism facetiously around me for a while?”
Andy winced, “Oh yeah. Sorry. What can I do?”
“You can think about everything we’ve talked about tonight. Think about your asking me not to get involved with you if it couldn’t be serious for me. Given what I’ve told you about my feelings for you, I would ask the same favor. Think about it. Really think about. You have an infinitely greater capacity to hurt me than I do to hurt you. That is one more thing I’ve never told another human being in my life, even and especially when it was true. I trust you to make the right decision for both of us.”
Andy blinked, then stuttered, “I,I, Miranda, I can’t-“
“Stop. No more. I trust you. Now go home.”
Andy kissed Miranda again. “I’ll call you when I get home.”
“I’ll be here.” She smiled a half smile that was not a real smile, which hurt Andy’s heart.
As Andy closed the door, Miranda sniffed, lay back and looked at the ceiling. She felt very sure what the answer would be, once Andy had truly thought about it, and she thought what her life would be after that answer. Gray. Flat, gun-metal gray. As always. And so, as always, she would work harder to surround herself with the color and beauty, warmth and life she could never feel inside.
***
Andy had a perfectly wretched ride home on the subway, having determined for just a few minutes not to think about what she had to think about and failing miserably. After she’d locked her apartment door’s four locks, she’d slung her bag on the floor and made her call.
Miranda answered, “Home, dear?”
“I am.”
“Good. I hope you sleep well.”
“Thank you. You, too…I miss you, Miranda.”
“Yes. I miss you, too.” Andy’s stomach fluttered. Miranda sounded so cold, so distant. “Well, Andrea, you know where I’ll be until further notice. Call me if you want. Good night.”
“Good night.”
As she snapped her phone shut, she knew exactly what the distance meant. Miranda was bracing herself for the worst. And it was up to her to decide whether the woman needed to or not.
Fuck. She grabbed a bottle of wine, opened it and poured half of it into the biggest glass she had.
She sat at her table and grabbed a legal pad and a pen, then threw the pen down. She could do this in her head. Much quicker. She’d just let her thoughts flow and continue to sip her wine.
Okay. One. Miranda was a woman. Apparently, sexually, this no longer mattered to her. Ramifications? Family. Her brother Sam wouldn’t care at all. Her parents would be slightly disappointed but would get over it pretty quickly. Other relatives could deal with it however they liked. Friends. If any of her friends didn’t like it, they weren’t friends. Work. This was New York, for God’s sake.
Two. Miranda was Miranda. Benefits huge. Possible ramifications. Privately? Her family didn’t like her for obvious reasons. She probably couldn’t tell them or her friends, for a while, anyway. If it went public? Huge. Intrusive to her, her family. Work. Might be hard to do interviews for a while if she were in the tabloids. But she didn’t think Mike would actually fire her.
Three. What would they be to each other? Lovers? Partners? Would they live together eventually? Could they actually make a life together? And her kids? What about them? She’d have two kids instantly tied to her life. She’d never been the sort of girl who dreamed about her wedding and kids-she dreamed about her career. But what if she wanted kids, later? Would Miranda?
Four: Age difference. Her family wouldn’t react well at all. Her friends would have to deal. But she had to admit that this was the big one for her. She could do the math very easily and it very quickly became daunting. In twenty years she’d be 45, still younger than Miranda was now. But Miranda would be 70. 70! But if she found Miranda smoking hot now and if they were happy and together for 20 years, surely that would mean their age difference would seem pretty normal by then, right?
Fuck it. None of these pseudo-lists were even remotely complete or actually getting her anywhere. “Stop thinking,” she said aloud. “How do you feel? Say it, Sachs.” Never had she been so glad to live alone. She took a long gulp of wine.
“I respect her.” She shook her head in disgust, chugged some more wine and was surprised to see she’d finished her glass in…15 minutes. Hmmm. She was about the cheapest drunk she knew. But big decision. Liquid courage. She poured the rest of the bottle into her glass.
“Okay. Again. And try to be honest this time.”
She sat for a long time, drinking her wine, waiting for the courage to say what she felt.
***
At that moment, Emily was riding home in a cab. All in all, it had been a spectacularly successful second date. After the movie, they’d gone back to Serena’s apartment and had opened a bottle of wine. They’d gossiped about Runway, talked about their families, growing up, future plans. Emily had been slightly shocked this whole ‘Lesbian thing’ didn’t make dating all that different. One talked about the same things, certainly. And one found oneself either wanting to spend more time with the person or wishing them off the face of the planet. She definitely wanted to spend more time with Serena, even after the woman had told her the most shocking thing she’d ever heard in her life. But she could overlook it. Difficult, certainly, but not insurmountable. She thought back on the conversation….
Serena had been lounging gorgeously on one end of the couch while Emily tried to achieve lounging gorgeous-ness on the other.
“Emily, I feel I must tell you something if we are going to date again. It would be misleading to continue without your knowing.”
This sounded so serious that Emily took a slug of wine that she hoped she’d made look like a ladylike sip. “Of course.”
“This is something that can never get back to Runway, you understand?”
Emily nodded solemnly. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Serena took a deep breath, “I can eat anything I want and not gain a pound.”
Emily felt the world sway in front of her eyes. “Pardon me-did you say you can…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Yes. It’s true. I hope it won’t hurt our friendship.”
Emily spluttered, “But…but…you eat such small portions at Runway.”
“I ask you, English, would it be fair to gorge myself in front of all those starving women?”
Emily managed to answer, “I suppose not. But-what does anything mean? Really anything? Carbs? Fats?”
“It means that I can, and often do, eat like a Sumo wrestler and never gain an ounce. I sometimes have to get up in the middle of the night to eat-just to keep weight on. Doctors have told me I have the metabolism of a hummingbird.”
Emily was astonished to feel tears well in her eyes, “Bloody hell! That’s just so unfair!”
Nodding her complete agreement, Serena let her process the information for a few moments before asking, “Still friends?”
Emily wiped her eyes and waved one hand, a la Priestly, “Oh, of course we are. I’m not completely thick. Just a shock is all.”
“I promise I won’t eat so much in front of you, if that will help.”
“No, of course not. In private, you should eat as much as you want. I’ll probably enjoy eating vicariously through you.”
“I could always give you tiny bites of what I’m having.”
“That you could,” Emily held out her wineglass, “To vicarious pleasure.” Serena tapped it with her own and replied, “To future shared pleasure.”
Emily blushed and Serena laughed, “Ah, my English rose blooms again.”
They’d talked some more, shared more wine and a positively delicious kiss before she’d left….
The cab’s sudden stop jolted Emily back into the moment. She was home. Yes, she thought with a smile, despite that appalling confession, more Serena was definitely in order.
***
The glass was empty and the buzz Andy knew would come suddenly arrived, but not like a bee-like a beehive. She sat up straight in her chair. Right. Question. How did she feel about Miranda?
As she began to speak, she realized that the acuity of her pronunciation was certainly impaired. “She makes me happier and more miserable than anyone on Earth. She picks on me and makes me feel good about myself. I like who I am when I’m with her. She smells nice and her skin is soft and she’s smarter and prettier and meaner and sweeter than anybody in the whole world.” Andy paused here and said to the table, “I’m drunk.”
She got up and threw herself onto her sofa, blinking her eyes at the ceiling. “What’s the answer?” The ceiling didn’t tell her. Try again. “Okay. There’s no one like her. No one. No one else exists for me if she’s in the room. It’s always been that way and it will always be that way.” Andy paused, snickered, then abandoned herself to a deep, relieved belly laugh. That was the answer. Put thousands of people in a room and she would always find Miranda. She would always want to be with Miranda, only Miranda. She loved her. All that other stuff they could work out. “Jesus,” she said to the ceiling, “that was a lot easier than I thought.” If the ceiling replied, she didn’t hear it. She was out like a light.
***
She woke up from a dream at 425AM. She thought groggily for two minutes before she decided she had to see Miranda this morning. She couldn’t bear knowing the woman might worry all day with no reason and couldn’t bear not knowing the answers to her one question. She sat up on the couch, but much too quickly. Holy shit. Her head felt like someone with little experience was trying to get out of it with a hammer and her mouth felt like the Sahara on a particularly dry day.
Shower. Coffee. Toast.
After these restoratives, and two Tylenol, she felt half-human and was dressed and ready to leave her apartment by 5:30. She winced a bit as she rang Miranda’s room but the woman answered after two rings.
“Yes?”
Good. She didn’t sound like she’d been asleep.
“Miranda?”
“Andrea? You’re certainly up with the birds.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure am. I wanted to know if I could come see you before I went to work?”
“And when would that be?”
“I could be there in about 30 minutes.”
“Is there a particular point to this meeting?”
“I have something to discuss with you that can’t wait until the end of the day.”
There was a long pause. “Very well. I’ll require coffee, as you know.”
“Already on the list, sweetheart. See you soon.”
As Miranda hung up the phone, she took a deep breath. Here it comes, she thought. She may as well prepare a face to meet the face…
She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, applied her makeup and restored her hair to its usual perfection. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and realized, one way or another, this would be resolved within two hours. And she could make it through two hours, and through the rest of her life, if need be. Of course she could. She was Miranda Priestly.
***
Once Andy had bull-shitted her way into Miranda’s room during what were certainly not visiting hours, she found a perfectly composed, dressed and coifed woman sitting patiently in her chair.
Andy had never thought a recline-a-bit could look like a throne but it could, if the right person were sitting in it.
“Hi, sweetheart.” She threw her bag on the floor and rushed over to kiss Miranda on the cheek and hand her a scalding hot cup of coffee.
Miranda nodded. “Thank you, Andrea. As you know, I don’t like waiting-for anything. Tell me. Is this coffee a morning greeting or a consolation prize?”
Andy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled and pulled up a chair. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about. I had one question for you.”
Miranda sipped her coffee and asked, with faux sweetness “Only one? As much as you like to talk?”
Ouch, Andy thought. Miranda had certainly worked herself into a snit. But whatever.
“Yes, Miranda. I plan to astound you with my concision this morning.”
Despite herself, Miranda’s lips twitched at this. “Proceed.”
Andy took a long pull at her coffee, which was doing miracles for her aching head. “As you know, I’m much younger than you are.”
“Granted.”
“We’ve never talked about this but I really never thought about having a husband or children. Really ever. I guess I sort of hazily imagined I might have them some day, like everyone else, but I was never that girl who dreamed about them. You know what I mean? I thought about my career-what I might accomplish.”
Miranda nodded, but more thoughtfully.
“What I wanted to ask is….” She paused, then continued, “This is sort of embarrassing. I don’t know that I want to have any children at all-but let’s say we were together. Together together. And what if I decided I really wanted to have children. With you? What would you say to that?”
Miranda felt like she’d been hit in the side of the head with a boat oar. This was the girl’s one question? Alright-admittedly, a tremendously important one.
She gathered her wits. “It would depend. Children is a plural noun. Might you want a reasonable number of children or a gaggle of children?”
“Define gaggle, Miranda.”
“More than two,” she said firmly, “excluding my own, of course.”
“Two would be enough but like I said, I don’t know that I’ll want any of my own.”
Miranda put her cup of coffee on the floor as she was thinking. “I would ask you to keep two things in mind.”
“Okay. Let’s hear them.”
“I would prefer, if you have any control over your biological clock, that you set it sooner rather than later. I don’t want to be so old that we have 3.5 generations gathering together when there should be two. It would offend my sensibilities.”
Andy almost laughed but wisely didn’t. “Okay. What’s next?”
“If you want a child, I would set my sights on one, rather than two. Once you had one, you would be the best judge whether my temperament could handle two.”
“Point taken. Okay. Case closed. I’ve made my decision.”
“Which is?”
“Which is obvious. Isn’t it?”
“Tell me.”
“I love you and will never leave you as long as I live unless you push me away. Even then, you will have to push me very, very hard.”
Andy watched Miranda with alarm as she collapsed into her chair and closed her eyes. And then Miranda began to laugh. Great whoops of laughter. Hearty, lusty laughter. Laughter that made tears stream down her face. There was joy-true disbelieving joy in her face, something Andy had never seen.
Something that made Andy laugh with her and, suddenly, begin to cry with her.
But, as usual, Miranda regained her composure incredibly quickly and looked somewhat like a Vulcan caught having an emotional episode. “You’re serious, aren’t you, Andrea?”
“Of course I am.”
“There are so many other things to consider.”
“Of course there are. And believe me, I considered them all over an entire bottle of wine last night.”
“Ah-so that’s why you look dehydrated. You must always remember to hydrate your skin, Andrea.”
Andy ignored her, “We’ll work our problems out.”
Miranda wiped her happy eyes and said with some hauteur, “Of course we will. What any artist in my medium needs to know is the end result. We have it-we are together. Given that, everything else will follow.”
Andy wondered who really cared about artists when in love. “I love you, Miranda.”
Miranda looked as if she could not half believe what she was hearing. “And I love you. More than I could ever tell you.”
Andy smiled, “You tell me every minute-even when you’re awful.”
“We are oddly matched.”
“Evenly matched, I think.”
***
Andy had had to leave for work quickly after their talk but she’d thought about it on the subway.
Joy. That was the look she’d never thought she’d ever see on Miranda’s face and now she had. Pure, unalloyed joy-joy that Miranda could trust, because now she had a trusted partner in it.
She shook her head in sheer wonder. On Friday, she’d been completely single. On Sunday, she was probably nearly permanently committed to a woman twice her age.
She smiled. Miranda was nothing if not efficient.
NEXT CHAPTER
DWP: 7th chapter of It’s All Relative started with Chapter 1 at www.ralst.com. Continuity warning!! This starts right where Chapter 6 left off, so you might want to read the last few paragraphs of that before starting this. This is rated R. Feedback would be lovely…
***
Andy won the first hand. Putting her last card down, she smiled triumphantly and firmly said “UNO.”
Miranda looked over her half glasses. “My, my. You do like winning, don’t you? I think perhaps we need to work under the same handicap. Change seats with me.”
“What? Why? That chair’s more comfortable for you with-”
“Change seats with me because I asked nicely.”
Andy stood, rounded the rolling table and sat in the recline-a-bit. Miranda took the visitor’s chair with her back to the room door. She loosened her robe and Andy felt a rush of surreal incredulity as Miranda looked her in the eyes and unbuttoned three buttons of her silk pajama top, pulling them slightly aside. The effect was everything Miranda could have hoped for-leaving the younger woman looking slightly like a wholly shocked and gigged fish.
Andy immediately realized her mouth was hanging open, which couldn’t possibly be attractive. She snapped it shut, swallowed but found the only thing she was able to formulate was an, “Oh my God,” and that in a whisper. She stared at the woman’s breasts, the lines of her collarbones, her beautiful neck, that expanse of lovely, flawless skin.
“Oh, Miranda,” Andy whispered, as she looked up into the woman’s eyes, “You are so incredibly beautiful.” The obvious desire Miranda had counted on but the aching tenderness and the welling of tears in those brown eyes were so wholly unexpected that she felt her heart actually skip a beat. She stared at Andy, trying to believe what she was seeing in those eyes, trying to believe she understood what was actually happening. She took a sip of water and was embarrassed to see her hand was trembling. As she put the cup down, Andy gently touched her hand and they twined their fingers.
Andy licked her lips and said in a shaking voice. “Miranda…I know we’re teasing each other and talking about dating but if this happens, it’s going to be very important, very serious for me.” She hesitated, then tried to sound more self-assured, “If this is just fun for you or it can’t be real for you because of…” she chuckled unhappily, “God, there’s a laundry list-your job, your status, your kids, our ages, our families, the gay thing-any reason, just tell me now. Please.” Her eyes were imploring, “We’re at different places in our lives and you’re tied to so much more than I am and you know so much more than I do so tell me. Let’s not do this if you know we really can’t. It would break my heart.”
Well yes, as Miranda had thought, this was actually happening. She cleared her throat and held Andy’s hand more tightly. “What we are doing is completely unreasonable, quixotic and probably insane. But this will happen despite every reason you mentioned and one hundred others I could think of right off the top of my head. It will happen because, my darling Andy, when I say I never want you to leave me, I’m not being hyperbolic. I mean I never want you to leave me. I’m very serious. I can’t lose you again.”
Andy closed her eyes in relief for a few moments, then leapt up, leaned over the table and kissed her with a smile so bright that, as she took her seat again, Miranda actually laughed a real, full-throated, lusty laugh.
“Jesus, Miranda. I didn’t know you could laugh like that.”
“It is a rarity. I have to be surprised by happiness.”
“Then we’ll have to work on the frequency of that.”
“We’ll see.” Miranda gave her a half smile before she began to button her pajama top and as she did so, her normally cool and virtually expressionless demeanor returned, which did not surprise Andy one bit. She was learning that Miranda could be quite sweet but doling out more than small servings of sensitivity made her uncomfortable and testy.
As Miranda tied her robe, she huffed as if nothing of importance had been said, “Honestly Andrea, the discussions we get into playing a friendly game of UNO.”
Andy shuffled the deck, “Actually, I think the problem was the topless game of UNO part.”
“Your idea entirely, if I remember correctly.”
Andy dealt the cards, “I am not topless, Miranda.”
“Spare me that quibble. You may as well be. That sheathe leaves nothing to the imagination.”
“Really? What color are my nipples?”
Miranda’s cheeks felt a bit warm, “I’m sure I don’t know and that’s purely a technicality.”
“Please! You don’t think of colors as technicalities, Priestly. And even if you did, that’s a technicality you may find interesting one day. I know what color your nipples are-and I find that very interesting.”
Miranda rolled her eyes, “Oh my God. I need a drink.”
“Sure, sweetie. Apple juice? Ginger ale?”
“More along the lines of Scotch.”
Andy immediately buttoned her shirt and put a cool hand on Miranda’s warm cheek, “You need ginger ale. I can tell you’re at least a cup low.”
***
Miranda won the next hand, naturally, and as she did so, the younger woman found it amazing how incredibly fully a person could gloat with an utter lack of expression. She looked at the clock and reluctantly began to pack the cards, saying “I need to get home, sweetheart.”
“I know,” Miranda said as stood and took off her robe, “could you help me to the bathroom before you leave?”
Andy grinned, “Absolutely, Miranda. Your health and safety are my top concerns.”
As they entered the bathroom and closed the door, Miranda turned and pulled Andy into a hug. Although Andy couldn’t know it, their discussion had only ratcheted up Miranda’s sexual desire. Although Miranda couldn’t know it, their discussion had dispelled most of Andy’s and she merely found it immensely comforting just to hold the other woman. She ran one hand up Miranda’s back, then ran her fingers gently over the soft skin of her neck and feathered the even softer white hair at her hairline. She whispered, “I’m going to miss you so much tonight.”
Miranda pulled back just enough to look into Andy’s eyes, “Show me. Kiss me.”
Andy kissed her gently and chastely. Miranda parted her lips as she sighed and their mouths met again. A firm hand on her neck combined with the slow, gentle exploration of her mouth told Miranda that her partner wanted to control the heat and depth of this kiss. So they kissed slowly, enjoying the softness of each others' lips, their tongues only lightly brushing each other.
But, as they kissed, Miranda found herself overwhelmed by flashes of feelings-this was an end, Andrea was leaving her again, she wouldn’t come back. Andrea could not leave her. Could never leave her. This would never, ever be enough. And then an enormous flashgun went off in her mind and she thought Oh. My. God.
Holding Andy with one arm, she used her other hand to slide under the white button-down until she was touching the sheer cloth covering the younger woman’s side. Andy moaned into her mouth and the kiss was instantly much deeper. Miranda slid her pinky finger beneath the boundary between jeans and sheer cloth and languidly moved her hand around the woman’s side until she reached her lower back. She pulled Andy closer from above and below. Both women could feel each others' hardened nipples and Miranda could feel Andy’s mound right above hers.
Andy moaned again as she felt Miranda reach into her pants until her hand was firmly right above her ass. She pulled an astonished Andy forward with surprising strength and ground the girl against her, thrusting her tongue deeply into her mouth. Andy was an expert at following instructions, so she took over, grabbing Miranda’s hips and grinding herself against the woman. The angle was really entirely wrong but the friction and the fact that it was Miranda who was relentlessly tongue-fucking her was spreading sensation deliciously downward.
She was so lost in the very idea of Miranda that she barely registered the woman’s releasing her grip on her upper back. But she certainly registered the woman’s hand as it covered her breast and squeezed it. When Miranda found her nipple, she circled it, then tugged in the same rhythm as Andy’s thrusts against her. Soon, Miranda heard and felt Andy’s breathing becoming erratic, her thrusting more frantic. When the heat and movement became almost feverish, Miranda broke their kiss and said in her coolest command voice, “Come, Andrea” at the very moment she pinched Andy’s nipple very, very hard.
That was enough to send Andy right over the top and she dropped her mouth into Miranda’s shoulder in order the to stifle her cry. Miranda stopped all movement except to wrap Andy in a gentle hug as she caught her breath.
When they finally released each other, Andy was struck by the look of shock and perturbation on Miranda’s face.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” Andy’s mind jumped forward, “Oh my God. Did I hurt you? Do you need to sit down?”
Miranda shook her head but didn’t meet Andy’s eyes. “No. I’m fine but maybe I should get into bed. I’ll brush my teeth and be right out.”
Andy left the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She sort of plopped onto Miranda’s bed and ran her hands through her hair. As an exquisitely accurate reader of Miranda’s moods, she knew something was very wrong. She vaguely entertained the idea of thinking about what that might be but decided against it. She’d know, or wouldn’t, soon enough.
In a few minutes Miranda emerged and Andy jumped up to help her. Miranda didn’t look at her, merely waved her off. “I’m fine, Andrea. I don’t need your help.”
Andy’s stomach lurched and she took a deep breath.
When Miranda had settled into bed, she asked, “Would you please bring a chair over so I can speak to you.”
“Of course, Miranda.” Andy grabbed a chair and braced herself emotionally.
Miranda finally looked at her. “I want to apologize.”
Andy couldn’t discern whether the deep flush in the woman’s face was because of their earlier passion or deep embarrassment. “For what, exactly?”
Miranda leaned back against her pillows. “You were kissing me very sweetly and that should have been enough. That was appropriate-we kiss each other goodnight and then we date for a while and only then do we…” She shook her head as if to clear it, “I don’t know what came over me.”
Before Andy could reply, Miranda held up a hand to stop her. “That’s not true. I know exactly what came over me.” Miranda opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then stared into Andy’s eyes. There was such raw anxiety in those blue eyes that it took Andy’s breath. “Will you listen to me very carefully, Andrea? I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you and I’ll never repeat it.”
“Of course.”
Miranda took a deep breath. “In every way except the physical, I feel like I’ve been starving all my life. Nothing has ever satisfied me. Nothing has ever filled me. As wealthy as I am, sometimes I feel like that image of the grubby, penniless starving child with its face pressed up against the glass front of a restaurant.” She smiled briefly and mirthlessly at this absurdity.
“I wake up empty and hungry and I go to bed empty and hungry every day of my life and it’s made me what I am. It’s made me a bitch and it’s made me a success because no one is hungrier than I am.” Her voice softened, “I thought having children would help. And they did. They took the edge off because at least I can ensure that they don’t grow up feeling the way I do.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes for a few moments, something for which Andy, who was about to cry, was grateful.
Miranda continued, “I’ve lived in the hope all these years that I wouldn’t always be empty. And then oddly enough, something happened. More than a year ago now. Something happened and I began to feel that there was something out there. But I didn’t know what it was. It was as if I looked into the restaurant just as a waiter passed by with something. But quickly. Too quickly. And I hadn’t expected the waiter to come from that direction so I only caught it out of the corner of my eye. But I knew I’d seen it. It existed. The one thing I needed existed.”
Miranda opened her eyes and turned to Andy. “Then one day, it was just…gone. I turned around and even the window was gone. I didn’t even know what it was but I knew it was gone and all hope for it was gone.”
Tears filled Miranda’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. “And since I lost even the hope for it, I have been angrier and emptier and hungrier than I have ever been in my life.”
Miranda wiped her cheeks but the tears continued to well, continued to fall.
“Believe it or not-and I know you will-I can be quite obtuse about my feelings. These few days, since you walked back into my life, I’ve wondered what on Earth has gotten into me. What’s been wrong with me. I don’t date women. I don’t beg them to stay with me. I don’t panic thinking about their leaving leave me. I chalked it up to the facts that we’re friends, I care deeply for you, we’re oddly compatible and I’m simply physically attracted to you. But when you held me and kissed me tonight and I knew you were leaving me, I finally, finally understood.”
She fiercely wiped the tears from her eyes and Andy flinched as she pounded the bed with one fist, “And that is why I made a fool of myself in the bathroom. I truly could hardly help myself. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’ve been starving for you.”
Andy exhaled forcefully, feeling like someone had literally reached into her chest and squeezed her heart and she knew the shock she felt must be entirely visible on her face.
Indeed. Miranda noted this. “So there you have it. Now that I’ve made my stupid, insipid little confession, I wouldn’t blame you if you ran for the hills. It sounds crazy and pathetic and I feel crazy and pathetic having said it.”
Andy heard the slight tone of angry defiance in the woman’s voice, her signal that she was ready to suffer the rejection she was sure would come. How to react to such a stunning and painful admission? From Miranda, of all people? Andy smiled. Obviously, almost as if it hadn’t happened at all.
“It doesn’t sound crazy or pathetic, sweetheart” she said lightly as she stood, kissed Miranda on the cheek, tenderly on the lips, then sat back down. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Jesus, I was almost begging you for reassurance earlier and now at least I know that you actually, secretly do like me.”
Miranda searched her face for the truth of the statement, then pursed her lips, although her eyes were shining with affection. She hastened to add. “You do know, don’t you-I want to make sure you understand that although what I said is true, I’m still going to be what I am, for better or worse. I’m still going to be me.”
Andy rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t want you any other way. If you became all sweetness and light, I’d kill you. Now, about this bathroom thing. You certainly didn’t make a fool of yourself. I obviously wanted you just as much as you wanted me. So don’t be sorry about that. I’m not.”
Miranda tilted her head skeptically, “You’re not sorry that the first time we had sex was standing in a bathroom with no lock on the door? Really?” Her eyes narrowed, “Or have you done this sort of thing before?”
Andy snorted a laugh and crossed herself, “Cross my heart, I have never, ever done anything like this. But I’m really not sorry I did it with you. As far as the first time is concerned, the first time we make love, there won’t be any clothes involved and we’ll be in a bed. The only thing I’m sorry about is that it wasn’t reciprocal.”
Miranda waved a dismissive hand, “That’s immaterial.”
“Not to me.”
“You’ll just have to owe me.”
“I’ll owe you with interest.”
“Yes. Compound interest that accrues daily.”
“Wow. I’d better get to work soon then and don’t think I’m not looking forward to it. Anyone who can make me-“ Here Andy stopped, not knowing what words Miranda liked and didn’t like. People could be so picky about sex terminology and this was the pickiest person she’d ever known.
Sensing the issue, Miranda offered dryly, “Use whatever language you like. I’ve heard it all and have probably used it all. I’ve been known to have a remarkably dirty mouth in bed.”
Andy’s eyes lit up, “O-kay. That’s just so….beyond hot. What was I saying? Oh yeah. Anyone who can make me come in about 2.5 minutes standing in a hospital bathroom fully clothed-I gotta say, if I were wearing a hat, it’d be off to you.”
Miranda smiled, a real smile, and said with a lovely Southern drawl, “Why thank ya, ma’am. I certainly do appreciate it. My pleasure, entirely.”
At that moment, Nan entered, “Oh hi, Andy-I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Yep. Just winding up our visit.”
“I won’t bother you then. Ms. Priestly, you’re not scheduled for anything tonight except pain meds if you need them. I can also give you a little Benadryl if you have trouble sleeping. So let me know if you need anything.”
“I think I would like some Benadryl in about an hour. I’m sure you know hospitals aren’t conducive to good sleep.”
“I know I couldn’t sleep in one. I’ll bring it by later.”
“Thank you, Nan.”
The door closed and Miranda said, “Alone at last.”
Which put a gleam in Andy’s eyes.
“Oh dear. What are you thinking, Andrea?”
“I was just wondering if you were…still a little excited from our encounter earlier?”
Miranda gave Andy a look that made her shiver and said in a low tone that made her shiver again. “Andrea, are you asking me if I’m still wet and whether, perhaps, when you leave I might be inclined to assist myself in some way?”
Andy gulped and nodded.
“Yes to both questions.”
Andy gave her a puppy-dog look.
“And now I believe you’re asking if, perhaps, I’d do it front of you?”
Another nod.
“How interesting. Would you really like to watch?”
“You don’t know how much. I could…I could even help.”
“Could you now? Even with the knowledge that a nurse or nurse tech might barge into this room at any time? They almost never knock and you know it.” Miranda raised one eyebrow and smirked. “Aren’t you a dark horse? Sex in public places. Who knew? Somehow, if I’d ever thought about it in the past, I would have painted you so very vanilla. Back to the subject-pray tell me, Andrea, exactly how would you help me?”
Although Andy was pleased Miranda had regained her emotional equilibrium, she knew she had to take the slightly evil, mischievous glint in those blue eyes with that recovery. She chewed her bottom lip.
“Cat got your tongue, Andrea?”
Andy glared at her and read consummate amusement in Miranda’s expression.
“Would you like me to help you tell me how you might help me, Andrea?”
Andy gave that smart-ass question the look it deserved and her tone was snotty, “Yes please, Miranda.”
“Alright. I assume you might touch me, correct?”
Andy nodded, gritted her teeth and cursed her biology for causing most of her blood to rush to her face, which naturally, Miranda noticed.
“Where would you touch me, Andrea? My breasts? Or would you be bolder? Would you touch my…what shall we call it? Hmmmm. How about pussy? It’s a vulgarism, of course, but a good word. Would you like to venture a guess why I think so?”
“Oh no, thank you. I’d rather hear it from you.”
“Of course you would, dear. A pussycat is a delightful furry creature that exists solely to be petted, loved and adored. I’m sure you can see the analogy and I believe the analogy is apt. So let’s call it that. Would you touch my pussy, Andrea?”
In past encounters with the insufferably smug look that was now on Miranda’s face, Andy had wanted to smack it off. Now she just wanted to fuck it off.
Whether she’d read her face or read her mind, Miranda suddenly laughed, entirely delighted, and raised her hands. “Alright, spoilsport, I’ll stop. And although I’d love to accommodate your original request, I think we’ve pressed our luck enough tonight. After all, you’re not the one who’d end up a headline on Page Six-‘Miranda Priestly Caught in Hospital Masturbatory Sex Romp!’”
“It’d sell a lot of papers.”
“That it would.”
“Hell, I know I’d read it.”
Miranda grinned, then sighed as she caught sight of the clock, “You really need to leave, my love. I’ve kept you long enough. I don’t like to think of your riding the subway at this hour.”
“I’m a big girl, Miranda. I’ll be okay and I’ll call you when I get home. Oh-if Emily says ‘thank you’ tomorrow, remember it’s for the flowers you sent her on Friday.”
“I sent Emily flowers on Friday? My Emily?”
Andy nodded, “Technically, I did. But you did to thank her for saving your life.”
“My God. How sentimental of me.”
“Just say ‘you’re welcome’, okay?”
“I always find your etiquette lessons so edifying, Andrea.”
“Shut up, Priestly.” She stood, kissed Miranda and grabbed her bag, “Any last orders, chief?”
“Yes. Just one.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
Miranda sighed, “Having just suffered a gunshot wound, would you mind not using that particular colloquialism facetiously around me for a while?”
Andy winced, “Oh yeah. Sorry. What can I do?”
“You can think about everything we’ve talked about tonight. Think about your asking me not to get involved with you if it couldn’t be serious for me. Given what I’ve told you about my feelings for you, I would ask the same favor. Think about it. Really think about. You have an infinitely greater capacity to hurt me than I do to hurt you. That is one more thing I’ve never told another human being in my life, even and especially when it was true. I trust you to make the right decision for both of us.”
Andy blinked, then stuttered, “I,I, Miranda, I can’t-“
“Stop. No more. I trust you. Now go home.”
Andy kissed Miranda again. “I’ll call you when I get home.”
“I’ll be here.” She smiled a half smile that was not a real smile, which hurt Andy’s heart.
As Andy closed the door, Miranda sniffed, lay back and looked at the ceiling. She felt very sure what the answer would be, once Andy had truly thought about it, and she thought what her life would be after that answer. Gray. Flat, gun-metal gray. As always. And so, as always, she would work harder to surround herself with the color and beauty, warmth and life she could never feel inside.
***
Andy had a perfectly wretched ride home on the subway, having determined for just a few minutes not to think about what she had to think about and failing miserably. After she’d locked her apartment door’s four locks, she’d slung her bag on the floor and made her call.
Miranda answered, “Home, dear?”
“I am.”
“Good. I hope you sleep well.”
“Thank you. You, too…I miss you, Miranda.”
“Yes. I miss you, too.” Andy’s stomach fluttered. Miranda sounded so cold, so distant. “Well, Andrea, you know where I’ll be until further notice. Call me if you want. Good night.”
“Good night.”
As she snapped her phone shut, she knew exactly what the distance meant. Miranda was bracing herself for the worst. And it was up to her to decide whether the woman needed to or not.
Fuck. She grabbed a bottle of wine, opened it and poured half of it into the biggest glass she had.
She sat at her table and grabbed a legal pad and a pen, then threw the pen down. She could do this in her head. Much quicker. She’d just let her thoughts flow and continue to sip her wine.
Okay. One. Miranda was a woman. Apparently, sexually, this no longer mattered to her. Ramifications? Family. Her brother Sam wouldn’t care at all. Her parents would be slightly disappointed but would get over it pretty quickly. Other relatives could deal with it however they liked. Friends. If any of her friends didn’t like it, they weren’t friends. Work. This was New York, for God’s sake.
Two. Miranda was Miranda. Benefits huge. Possible ramifications. Privately? Her family didn’t like her for obvious reasons. She probably couldn’t tell them or her friends, for a while, anyway. If it went public? Huge. Intrusive to her, her family. Work. Might be hard to do interviews for a while if she were in the tabloids. But she didn’t think Mike would actually fire her.
Three. What would they be to each other? Lovers? Partners? Would they live together eventually? Could they actually make a life together? And her kids? What about them? She’d have two kids instantly tied to her life. She’d never been the sort of girl who dreamed about her wedding and kids-she dreamed about her career. But what if she wanted kids, later? Would Miranda?
Four: Age difference. Her family wouldn’t react well at all. Her friends would have to deal. But she had to admit that this was the big one for her. She could do the math very easily and it very quickly became daunting. In twenty years she’d be 45, still younger than Miranda was now. But Miranda would be 70. 70! But if she found Miranda smoking hot now and if they were happy and together for 20 years, surely that would mean their age difference would seem pretty normal by then, right?
Fuck it. None of these pseudo-lists were even remotely complete or actually getting her anywhere. “Stop thinking,” she said aloud. “How do you feel? Say it, Sachs.” Never had she been so glad to live alone. She took a long gulp of wine.
“I respect her.” She shook her head in disgust, chugged some more wine and was surprised to see she’d finished her glass in…15 minutes. Hmmm. She was about the cheapest drunk she knew. But big decision. Liquid courage. She poured the rest of the bottle into her glass.
“Okay. Again. And try to be honest this time.”
She sat for a long time, drinking her wine, waiting for the courage to say what she felt.
***
At that moment, Emily was riding home in a cab. All in all, it had been a spectacularly successful second date. After the movie, they’d gone back to Serena’s apartment and had opened a bottle of wine. They’d gossiped about Runway, talked about their families, growing up, future plans. Emily had been slightly shocked this whole ‘Lesbian thing’ didn’t make dating all that different. One talked about the same things, certainly. And one found oneself either wanting to spend more time with the person or wishing them off the face of the planet. She definitely wanted to spend more time with Serena, even after the woman had told her the most shocking thing she’d ever heard in her life. But she could overlook it. Difficult, certainly, but not insurmountable. She thought back on the conversation….
Serena had been lounging gorgeously on one end of the couch while Emily tried to achieve lounging gorgeous-ness on the other.
“Emily, I feel I must tell you something if we are going to date again. It would be misleading to continue without your knowing.”
This sounded so serious that Emily took a slug of wine that she hoped she’d made look like a ladylike sip. “Of course.”
“This is something that can never get back to Runway, you understand?”
Emily nodded solemnly. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Serena took a deep breath, “I can eat anything I want and not gain a pound.”
Emily felt the world sway in front of her eyes. “Pardon me-did you say you can…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Yes. It’s true. I hope it won’t hurt our friendship.”
Emily spluttered, “But…but…you eat such small portions at Runway.”
“I ask you, English, would it be fair to gorge myself in front of all those starving women?”
Emily managed to answer, “I suppose not. But-what does anything mean? Really anything? Carbs? Fats?”
“It means that I can, and often do, eat like a Sumo wrestler and never gain an ounce. I sometimes have to get up in the middle of the night to eat-just to keep weight on. Doctors have told me I have the metabolism of a hummingbird.”
Emily was astonished to feel tears well in her eyes, “Bloody hell! That’s just so unfair!”
Nodding her complete agreement, Serena let her process the information for a few moments before asking, “Still friends?”
Emily wiped her eyes and waved one hand, a la Priestly, “Oh, of course we are. I’m not completely thick. Just a shock is all.”
“I promise I won’t eat so much in front of you, if that will help.”
“No, of course not. In private, you should eat as much as you want. I’ll probably enjoy eating vicariously through you.”
“I could always give you tiny bites of what I’m having.”
“That you could,” Emily held out her wineglass, “To vicarious pleasure.” Serena tapped it with her own and replied, “To future shared pleasure.”
Emily blushed and Serena laughed, “Ah, my English rose blooms again.”
They’d talked some more, shared more wine and a positively delicious kiss before she’d left….
The cab’s sudden stop jolted Emily back into the moment. She was home. Yes, she thought with a smile, despite that appalling confession, more Serena was definitely in order.
***
The glass was empty and the buzz Andy knew would come suddenly arrived, but not like a bee-like a beehive. She sat up straight in her chair. Right. Question. How did she feel about Miranda?
As she began to speak, she realized that the acuity of her pronunciation was certainly impaired. “She makes me happier and more miserable than anyone on Earth. She picks on me and makes me feel good about myself. I like who I am when I’m with her. She smells nice and her skin is soft and she’s smarter and prettier and meaner and sweeter than anybody in the whole world.” Andy paused here and said to the table, “I’m drunk.”
She got up and threw herself onto her sofa, blinking her eyes at the ceiling. “What’s the answer?” The ceiling didn’t tell her. Try again. “Okay. There’s no one like her. No one. No one else exists for me if she’s in the room. It’s always been that way and it will always be that way.” Andy paused, snickered, then abandoned herself to a deep, relieved belly laugh. That was the answer. Put thousands of people in a room and she would always find Miranda. She would always want to be with Miranda, only Miranda. She loved her. All that other stuff they could work out. “Jesus,” she said to the ceiling, “that was a lot easier than I thought.” If the ceiling replied, she didn’t hear it. She was out like a light.
***
She woke up from a dream at 425AM. She thought groggily for two minutes before she decided she had to see Miranda this morning. She couldn’t bear knowing the woman might worry all day with no reason and couldn’t bear not knowing the answers to her one question. She sat up on the couch, but much too quickly. Holy shit. Her head felt like someone with little experience was trying to get out of it with a hammer and her mouth felt like the Sahara on a particularly dry day.
Shower. Coffee. Toast.
After these restoratives, and two Tylenol, she felt half-human and was dressed and ready to leave her apartment by 5:30. She winced a bit as she rang Miranda’s room but the woman answered after two rings.
“Yes?”
Good. She didn’t sound like she’d been asleep.
“Miranda?”
“Andrea? You’re certainly up with the birds.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure am. I wanted to know if I could come see you before I went to work?”
“And when would that be?”
“I could be there in about 30 minutes.”
“Is there a particular point to this meeting?”
“I have something to discuss with you that can’t wait until the end of the day.”
There was a long pause. “Very well. I’ll require coffee, as you know.”
“Already on the list, sweetheart. See you soon.”
As Miranda hung up the phone, she took a deep breath. Here it comes, she thought. She may as well prepare a face to meet the face…
She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, applied her makeup and restored her hair to its usual perfection. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and realized, one way or another, this would be resolved within two hours. And she could make it through two hours, and through the rest of her life, if need be. Of course she could. She was Miranda Priestly.
***
Once Andy had bull-shitted her way into Miranda’s room during what were certainly not visiting hours, she found a perfectly composed, dressed and coifed woman sitting patiently in her chair.
Andy had never thought a recline-a-bit could look like a throne but it could, if the right person were sitting in it.
“Hi, sweetheart.” She threw her bag on the floor and rushed over to kiss Miranda on the cheek and hand her a scalding hot cup of coffee.
Miranda nodded. “Thank you, Andrea. As you know, I don’t like waiting-for anything. Tell me. Is this coffee a morning greeting or a consolation prize?”
Andy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled and pulled up a chair. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about. I had one question for you.”
Miranda sipped her coffee and asked, with faux sweetness “Only one? As much as you like to talk?”
Ouch, Andy thought. Miranda had certainly worked herself into a snit. But whatever.
“Yes, Miranda. I plan to astound you with my concision this morning.”
Despite herself, Miranda’s lips twitched at this. “Proceed.”
Andy took a long pull at her coffee, which was doing miracles for her aching head. “As you know, I’m much younger than you are.”
“Granted.”
“We’ve never talked about this but I really never thought about having a husband or children. Really ever. I guess I sort of hazily imagined I might have them some day, like everyone else, but I was never that girl who dreamed about them. You know what I mean? I thought about my career-what I might accomplish.”
Miranda nodded, but more thoughtfully.
“What I wanted to ask is….” She paused, then continued, “This is sort of embarrassing. I don’t know that I want to have any children at all-but let’s say we were together. Together together. And what if I decided I really wanted to have children. With you? What would you say to that?”
Miranda felt like she’d been hit in the side of the head with a boat oar. This was the girl’s one question? Alright-admittedly, a tremendously important one.
She gathered her wits. “It would depend. Children is a plural noun. Might you want a reasonable number of children or a gaggle of children?”
“Define gaggle, Miranda.”
“More than two,” she said firmly, “excluding my own, of course.”
“Two would be enough but like I said, I don’t know that I’ll want any of my own.”
Miranda put her cup of coffee on the floor as she was thinking. “I would ask you to keep two things in mind.”
“Okay. Let’s hear them.”
“I would prefer, if you have any control over your biological clock, that you set it sooner rather than later. I don’t want to be so old that we have 3.5 generations gathering together when there should be two. It would offend my sensibilities.”
Andy almost laughed but wisely didn’t. “Okay. What’s next?”
“If you want a child, I would set my sights on one, rather than two. Once you had one, you would be the best judge whether my temperament could handle two.”
“Point taken. Okay. Case closed. I’ve made my decision.”
“Which is?”
“Which is obvious. Isn’t it?”
“Tell me.”
“I love you and will never leave you as long as I live unless you push me away. Even then, you will have to push me very, very hard.”
Andy watched Miranda with alarm as she collapsed into her chair and closed her eyes. And then Miranda began to laugh. Great whoops of laughter. Hearty, lusty laughter. Laughter that made tears stream down her face. There was joy-true disbelieving joy in her face, something Andy had never seen.
Something that made Andy laugh with her and, suddenly, begin to cry with her.
But, as usual, Miranda regained her composure incredibly quickly and looked somewhat like a Vulcan caught having an emotional episode. “You’re serious, aren’t you, Andrea?”
“Of course I am.”
“There are so many other things to consider.”
“Of course there are. And believe me, I considered them all over an entire bottle of wine last night.”
“Ah-so that’s why you look dehydrated. You must always remember to hydrate your skin, Andrea.”
Andy ignored her, “We’ll work our problems out.”
Miranda wiped her happy eyes and said with some hauteur, “Of course we will. What any artist in my medium needs to know is the end result. We have it-we are together. Given that, everything else will follow.”
Andy wondered who really cared about artists when in love. “I love you, Miranda.”
Miranda looked as if she could not half believe what she was hearing. “And I love you. More than I could ever tell you.”
Andy smiled, “You tell me every minute-even when you’re awful.”
“We are oddly matched.”
“Evenly matched, I think.”
***
Andy had had to leave for work quickly after their talk but she’d thought about it on the subway.
Joy. That was the look she’d never thought she’d ever see on Miranda’s face and now she had. Pure, unalloyed joy-joy that Miranda could trust, because now she had a trusted partner in it.
She shook her head in sheer wonder. On Friday, she’d been completely single. On Sunday, she was probably nearly permanently committed to a woman twice her age.
She smiled. Miranda was nothing if not efficient.
NEXT CHAPTER