Title: Last Night with You
Author: emeraldorchids
Note: Title and mood brought to you by Adele's "All I Ask"...I strongly urge you to listen to this before and/or while you read this story.
Warning: It's a sad little ficlet...no character death, maybe some minor character illness. Mirandy set approx 15 yrs after the end of the movie.
Andrea finished applying her lip gloss and examined her reflection one last time before heading out the door. She could see the hint of wrinkles starting at the outer edges of her eyes, and for a moment, she thought she was gazing at her mother. She quickly blinked back the tears and grabbed her keys and headed out the door.
On the other side of town, Miranda anxiously sat on a wingback chair that was awkwardly against the wall in the hallway. The movers would be back tomorrow to gather the last of her belongings. She hadn't thought she would ever grow so attached to a physical space, but saying goodbye to the townhouse and the years of memories built there was proving difficult for the older woman.
She was startled from her thoughts when Andrea arrived, knocking lightly and letting herself in the unlocked door. The young woman gasped as she took in the unadorned space. Without Miranda's furnishings, the townhouse seemed cold and dark, and Andrea couldn't help but turn around as she choked back tears.
"Darling," Miranda said softly, rising to her feet and walking up to the woman. She hesitated before gently placing her hands on her shoulders. Andrea slowly spun around in Miranda's arms and they stood there, swaying gently in their embrace.
"Andrea, I know. I know," she whispered, gently kissing her forehead. "We said we wouldn't do this…"
The young woman nodded and stepped away as she took a tissue out of her clutch to dab at her eyes. "I just… didn't think this would be so hard."
Miranda smiled, her own eyes brimming with tears as she nodded. For a moment, it seemed like time stood still as the two women gazed upon one another, a lifetime's worth of memories swirling among them.
"We better go," Miranda said after some time. She reached for her purse and fumbled for her keys, pausing to stroke the large key on a single ring. She took a deep breath and dropped it back into her bag and followed Andrea out. As she turned to pull the door shut for what was probably the last time, she tried to remember the smell of the lilac bushes in summer, the weight of the doorknob in her hand, the tin-like ding of the doorbell, and the way she could always hear her daughters running to answer the door when they were little girls.
"Miranda?" she called from the curb.
She shook herself from her thoughts and followed Andrea into the waiting car, her fingertips gently stroking the key within the safety of her bag. Andrea reached for her other hand and tightly knit their fingers together.
"Come back to me," Andrea whispered, gently pressing her lips to their interlocked hands.
"I'm sorry," Miranda said, turning to face the younger woman. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's try to enjoy tonight—just us."
Andrea nodded in agreement and relaxed into the cool leather seat, her head falling to the other woman's shoulder as it had countless times before.
After dinner, the women chose to walk home in the stinging cold December air. As Andrea unlocked the door to her building, Miranda couldn't help but shiver at the newness of it all.
"Make yourself comfortable," Andrea said, taking the older woman's coat and scarf and carefully draping it over a box in the foyer. She quickly padded down the hall to turn the kettle on and pull two mugs from the kitchen sink.
While Andrea prepared the tea, Miranda sat on the sofa, a mid-century modern bargain she helped her to snag at a recent estate sale. The cushions were tight and unyielding, its fibers slightly faded from sunlight but otherwise impeccable. She imagined the sofa spent the better part of the twentieth century beneath a crisp, plastic dust cover.
Miranda sat back and looked at the boxes scattered around the room, smiling when she realized that Andrea had arranged them where the furniture would be: two low, sturdy boxes as a coffee table, a medium-sized box as an end table, two large wardrobe boxes as the chairs across from the couch.
Her eyes were quickly drawn to another box, just next to the sofa. It was opened, and Miranda peered inside. She carefully pulled out a few family photo albums just as Andrea was returning with their tea, along with a bottle of scotch and two glasses.
"Something to warm us up," she said, gently setting the tray down on the makeshift coffee table.
"I didn't realize you took these," Miranda said, her eyes fixed on the albums.
Andrea sat next to her on the sofa and pulled a soft throw from a nearby box. She draped it around hers and Miranda's shoulders as she curled up against the older woman.
"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea. "Or do you think the girls wanted them? One of your assistants said they were going to storage, and I wanted something…" Her voice trailed off. She didn't dare finish her thought.
"No, of course not. I doubt Caroline and Cassidy even knew I had these," she said, setting the albums back in the box. She picked up her tea cup and returned to the warmth on the sofa.
They sat, in silence, exchanging half-finished cups of tea for glasses of scotch. "Where did you get these?" Miranda asked, examining her crystal glass.
"They were my mom's favorite glasses. I took them before my brothers put them on eBay with the rest of her things."
Miranda smiled. "They're exquisite."
"I think she's liking it at St. Agnes," Andrea said while she stroked the glass. "They seem to take very good care of her, and she is in good spirits when I visit."
Miranda nodded. She knew how difficult it was for Andrea when her mother was diagnosed with Alzheimers, particularly since they hadn't spoken much during the past fifteen years. Visiting homes together was emotionally trying on them both, but at least St. Agnes's was only a four-hour drive from the city, and equidistant from her brother's place outside Pittsburgh. Someone could be there a few times a week.
"I'm glad she remembers happier times, at least," she added with a shrug. Miranda wrapped her arm around the young woman and softly pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Stay here tonight?" Andrea said.
Miranda nodded. Most of her things had already been shipped weeks in advance. Her furniture was in storage. Her valuables were stored with her estate planner. Two remaining suitcases were stowed in the trunk of her driver's car and would follow her to the airport in the morning.
"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" Miranda asked. It was the first time the older woman had plainly asked Andrea for her opinion on the matter.
"Of course, yes," she responded quickly. "Are you having second thoughts?"
Miranda set down her drink and leaned forward, resting on her knees. "Second, third, fourth… everything here was so… it was going so well… and I don't know when… if I'll ever…" she quietly sobbed.
"Hey, hey, don't think like that," Andrea soothed her. It was tearing her apart to say goodbye, but she wasn't about to let her see that—not tonight.
"But—"
"Shhh," Andrea whispered, wrapping her arms around the woman and softly rocking her back and forth. "Come on, we'll be more comfortable in the bedroom. I'll turn the fireplace on to keep us warm."
Miranda nodded and allowed the younger woman to lead her down the hall to the exquisite master suite. She hadn't paid much attention when Andrea was looking at different properties, but she was relieved to discover what a marvelous apartment she landed.
She excused herself to the bathroom while Andrea lit a fire. When she returned, she crawled into bed and buried her face in the young woman's neck. She bought a one-way ticket to Paris and sold her house. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't permanent, but when Caroline called and explained her diagnosis and treatment, Miranda really had no other choice.
"I don't want to go," Miranda whispered, her voice hoarse and raspy. "I want to stay here, with you."
Andrea kissed the top of her head and gently bent down to meet her eyes. "Caroline needs you," she said.
"But I need you," Miranda cried. It was childish, but she had never felt so torn in her entire life. For years she had always put her daughters' happiness before her own; she didn't expect to face that decision again so soon.
Andrea hugged her tightly and took her lips, softly at first, then more firmly as the other woman returned the kiss. They quickly broke for air, and Miranda pressed her damp cheek to the young woman's, cradling her head in one hand while the other was wrapped around her neck. They laid like that for what seemed like hours. Just when Andrea thought the other woman had fallen asleep, she reached out for her, tracing every inch of her face with her fingers, her lips.
"I need a drink of water," Andrea said quietly, slipping out of her arms and creeping out to the kitchen. She brought back two glasses, and after handing one to Miranda, she carefully turned out the fireplace before crawling back into bed.
Miranda was sitting up, leaning against the pillows. The younger woman curled up next to her, laying her head in the woman's lap.
"When is Caroline's surgery?"
"Tuesday. In the morning." Miranda's fingers found their way into Andrea's long chestnut strands, gently twirling while she spoke. "Cassidy gets in Sunday night, and she'll be there for a week, but then has to go back."
"Mallory will certainly be glad to see you."
"Yes, she will, and I her… my little angel." When her granddaughter was born, Miranda showered the newborn with gifts and hugs and kisses, every bit the proud grandmother. She always wondered if that was in any way connected with Caroline's ensuing depression, if she could have inadvertently triggered something somehow. "I haven't seen her since—"
"I know," Andrea said quickly, cutting her off. "I wish…"
Miranda swallowed brought her hand up to her lips. She wasn't sure she would be able to take it if Caroline made another attempt on her own life. "It's not fair," Miranda said as tears once again fell down her cheeks. "I protected them… my baby doesn't deserve this fate."
Andrea once again held her and rocked her gently while she cried. It had been just over four weeks since Caroline was diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer, a few weeks shy of her twenty-ninth birthday.
"She will survive this. She has to," Andrea whispered.
"I have this terrifying feeling that I will never be back," Miranda choked out. She took a few deep breaths as her chest heaved. "I'm frightened, Andrea. What if I never—"
Andrea quickly pressed her lips to Miranda's mouth, preventing her from finishing her sentence. She replaced her lips with her finger. "Don't say that," she whispered, "don't you dare finish that sentence."
This time, Andrea was fighting back tears.
"Darling, we have to be realistic," Miranda said. Her hand trembled as she stroked the younger woman's cheek. "I'm not getting any younger, and—"
"I can leave my mom," Andrea said. She was desperate. "I mean, five minutes after I leave she doesn't remember I was there."
Miranda hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "My sweet Andrea, I could never let you do that. I've already kept you from her for long enough. She's your mother…"
"I could come visit. Marc wouldn't mind, and we could share the guest room like we did when they were on their honeymoon…"
"Andrea, look at me."
The young woman whimpered and turned to her side, allowing Miranda to take her face in her hands.
"I wish we could go back in time and stay there forever. But we can't. This is life, and it's been very unfair to us lately. You need to be with your mother and your brothers. I need to be with my daughter and son-in-law and precious granddaughter. I wish it wasn't like this," she said.
"I love you, Miranda. So much. And I will always love you at least this much," Andrea said through her tears.
"And I love you, my darling, my light, my hope… my life."
Andrea kissed her softly and held her in her arms as the weight of their emotions claimed them both in sleep.
Several hours later, Andrea woke to Miranda's hands sliding up her torso. She opened her mouth to speak, but the other woman softly pressed her finger to Andrea's lips. "I need you, so badly," she whispered, her hot breath caressing Andrea's skin and sending a shiver down her spine.
The younger woman's body arched up off the bed as Miranda took her nipple between her teeth. With her other hand, her fingers glided beneath her panties and gently played with her slick curls.
Andrea pulled Miranda's sweater up and over her head and unbuttoned her trousers, quickly sliding them over the swell of her hips along with her underwear. Their clothes scattered around the room, Miranda moved to straddle the young woman and a moan escaped her lips as she felt the wet heat against her own.
Her hands traced their way down the slope of the other woman's back, resting firmly on her hips, guiding her as they rocked in rhythm until Miranda's gasped and reached down, her hand clamping around Andrea's wrist, moving the woman's fingers towards their juncture. Andrea understood, and the added friction sent them both over the edge, together.
Miranda collapsed against her and pressed a soft kiss to her neck. Their eyes met, and Miranda softly nodded before drawing up the blanket over them.
When Miranda's alarm on her phone rang shortly thereafter, she sighed and pressed her lips to the woman's cheek before crawling out of bed. After a quick shower, she changed back into her clothes from the previous night and approached the bed, where Andrea was sitting in her robe with her legs tucked underneath her.
"Can I come with you to the airport?" she asked.
Miranda shook her head as she reached for her purse, applying some moisturizer to her face and balm to her lips.
"Well at least give me a hug goodbye," the young woman said, jumping up and following Miranda towards the living room.
"No. Stop." Miranda held her hand up and turned away. "This is not goodbye. Go back to sleep, and we will remember laying in each others' arms, in your new bed, in your new apartment."
"But, Mir—"
"Go." She spoke firmly, rooted to the spot in the hallway, staring a hole in the floorboards.
Andrea reluctantly retreated to her bedroom, and Miranda could hear the muffled tears down the hallway.
She crossed the living room and picked up her coat before reaching for the doorknob. "I love you, Andrea," she whispered.
The door closed behind her, echoing throughout the apartment. Miranda leaned against the closed door from where she stood in the hallway and took a deep breath, and then another, and another.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled on her winter coat. When she reached into her purse for a tissue, she felt the oversized key she had been carrying around. She pressed the key to her lips and hung it on the young woman's doorknob before heading down the stairs and into her waiting car outside.
... the end ...