It was almost apocalyptic, so beautiful it took her breath away, it made her smile in the most unexpected moments, it made her complacent and it was so dark it twisted her heart and tore at the skin around her wrists, it made her elegiac and mournful and mad.
It wasn't love, not right now, it hadn't been for a long time.
She was all alone, wrapped in a cheap scarf that scratched at her arms and did little to protect against the temperamental Mexican cold. The outskirts of what had been a town not so long ago was filled with mountains, that towered over and from her view point seemed to touch the sky. Gentle giants, glowing with yellow and lilac field flowers that seemed unaware of the destruction all around them. Her grandmother hated field flowers, she suddenly remembered and the memory caught her by surprise. She missed her grandmother, those carefree days spent in her large home in the capital, and the hacienda in the summers. Idyllic, those years growing up without traces of violence or loss had never lived up to the promises they claimed.
She shook her head, brown curls bounced down her shoulder, the sun was setting over 'La Nevada' as the locals called the vast expanses of mountain territory, it was time to head home.
Andrea chuckled somewhat bitterly, what she called home but was just a tent, pitched against the mountain side, a few metal scraps covering her from the cold and old mattresses she had dragged uphill to sleep on. The unwanted tear rolled down her dirty face and she wiped away at it angrily. She hadn't found anything cheap at the market today, a kind vendor had given her an apple for nothing in return, rare for these days of war and trouble.
"It's only momentary," she told herself as she dragged the large sheet of wool over her body and lay down to sleep for the day.
~ 10 years ago~
"Don't be silly Andrea, everyone want's this. Everyone wants to be us" the fashion tycoon had said in her velvet soft voice and glided out of the car into the hoard of expectant paparazzi. Andrea had waltzed away shaking her head, angry for believing in Miranda. She thrown her phone into the Paris fountain and taken the next plane back home.
Once in New York, she had found the emptiness intolerable, she wanted nothing more than to call Miranda and tell her … Miranda would think it was madness.
No, the iconic fashion influencer, would never love her back. There was no point in letting her know and yet Andrea had left her standing on the streets of Paris, without an assistant and a moment of shock, that made no sense either.
She penned a letter in monogramed stationary, and fountain ink.
It wasn't long and flowery, she didn't use any of the skills she had learned in journalism at Northwestern, she didn't' embellish with details about how her love would no doubt be unrequited, she didn't even make it a paragraph.
'Miranda, I love you, I have loved you for a long time and I believe I will always love you. That's why I left, I could not bear to be so close and yet so far. What a cliché right?"
Yours always,
Andrea Sachs.
The lettered accompanied a large bouquet of white roses. That was it, no petition for forgiveness, no lunch date requested, simply a declaration of love.
Andrea had the flowers and the lettered delivered, she waited for the confirmation that they had been delivered and then she boarded the 8hour flight to Los Angeles, as far away as she could get. In the long hours that transcribed during the flight from Paris to New York, Andrea had felt restless, all the security she had before, the garb she had thrown at Miranda during the initial interview about journalism being her dream was lost. In the whole year she had been with Elias Clarke she hadn't thought about journalism at all, if she was honest with herself she had thought about staying at Runway, maybe pursuing editorial or another fashion career. Her whole world had tilted on axis when she had darted across the hallway and asked Nigel to help her.
She took a deep breath the lights on the airplane to dimmed, she would study law. She would call her father, Richard Sachs, and tell him she was going back to law school. If she couldn't stay with Miranda and be happy, she'd at least make her family proud and lots of money while she was at it.
As she imagined the process had been a breeze, Richard Sachs knew people a USC, she was a legacy and with a few phone calls and some apartment hunting Andrea had been all settled in Los Angeles.
The city was just as she remembered from her college tour, dotted with glitz and infatuation. Around the University the clash of opulence and poverty strung high, the graduate condos where she was staying towered over the newly inaugurated USC village and yet a few blocks away homeless in their tents and scavenged mattresses slept their days away, bathed in urine and sweat from the hot Californian days.
She shook her head as Natalie talked about the party last night and how she was going to love the classes at USC.
"Are you tired Andrea?" the young blonde turned slightly toward her companion, not really taking her eyes of the road. Andrea had been in Los Angeles for a month waiting for the fall semester to start, the only person she knew so far was Natalie the USC president's daughter, two years her senior and her last year at USC Kent School of Medicine. She was the picture perfect southern Californian. She had water blue eyes that sparkled in the light, her skin was alluring white and her light blond hair dripped gold in curls. She smiled often and her personally bubbled over with the candor of summer nights spent by the beach. She always wore sundresses and wedge sandals and every time she got out of her midnight blue Maserati she swung her legs over like ladies do.
Andrea loved to study her, she could do a portrait piece on her, she could write a whole book about her. The only part that kept Andrea from not going out to lunches and parties with Natalie aside from her loneliness was the feeling that the young woman was sincere in her affinity toward Andrea.
"I am a little, but I'm sure once I have a drink or two I will fine" she sighed staring out the mural walls of downtown LA, they were going to a studio party in universal city, the signs read Mulholland drive, and Hollywood Bowl, they did nothing to stir even a second glance for Natalie but Andrea still felt a certain whiz about being in tinsel town. She mentally laughed at the irony of life, New Yorkers dream about Los Angeles with its aquamarine waters and 70 degree weather and Los Angelinos dream about New York with Times Square, Broadway and snow white Christmases.
At the party, between a Gin Martini and a question about what designer she was wearing, someone mentioned they should take Andrea to Disneyland.
"It is a must for any out of towner"
She begrudgingly agrees to go probably due to the third Martini and the soft jazz music. The semester approaches fast and Natalie decides they should go two days before the first day.
The days is a whirlwind to say the least, the walk down Main Street is entertaining until Nicole keeps stopping at every corner for food, first at the red cart to the right, where she swears the sell the best corn dogs ever, they dart over to the Tikki Room for a semi claustrophobic experience of fake birds singing and thunder rolling and a Dole Whip cone. They take a ride down the Rivers of America in a safari boat of all things and when they exit the somewhat distracting ride where Andrea questions the sanity of Walt as he made that ride, they hop over to buy beignets shaped like mini Mickey heads.
"Do we gain weight on all of this?" Andy asks
Natalie, who at this point, is wearing Zebra Mickey ears, along with her USC V-neck and some ripped jeans that have glitter down the side, laughs and nods "don't worry we will walk it off, do you want a drink?" she asks.
"Sure, don't we have to leave the park though?"
She shakes her head and guides them down the alley behind the beignet restaurant, past a store that sells all the Haunted House souvenirs where at Natalie's insistence the brunette buys Mickey ears too, with ghosts on them and then she knocks at an unassuming blue door. The number 33 is all that it alludes to and Andrea is about to ask, when someone opens the door and lets them in.
"Ms. Aster it's been so long, the Mendoza's where here last week and asked about you," the cheerful door opener says and Natalie smiles,
"I haven't seen them in ages, school is keeping me busy. Is Charles here?" she asks hurriedly adverting her gaze.
The attendant whose name seems to be Liliane nods and without even questioning guides them upstairs to the bar.
"Charles Darling" she shouts and the bartender, a young blonde and very handsome man looks up and smiles.
"Nikki dear!"
The USC student sits down at the stool by the bar, the restaurant looks like something out of a 1950's glamour movie. The chairs are made of leather, the walls hold pictures of ghosts with jazz instruments and if you play close attention they disappear and reappear behind the bar. It is all a play off the Haunted House and the New Orleans Square. Andy finds it oddly comforting that Natalie and the barman know each other and they spend a few minutes talking leaving her to her own thought at the lounge chaise a few steps away.
"Walt used to sit by that window you know?" the blond man speaks suddenly, appearing by the table with two drinks and a menu. Natalie trailed behind, "she's not a huge Disney fan Char" she says as if she has known him forever.
"Where are you from, Ms.…?" he asks
"Sachs, " she offers her last name
"Ms. Sachs"
"Chicago" she states.
"Chicago? Mob city" he smiles
"that's why I'm going to be a lawyer, lots of money" she affirms and they all laugh.
"Well I'm off to ring in your food" he states and walks away
"You know him?" Andrea questions, she hadn't meant to, she usually doesn't meddle in lives.
Her older friend looks at her and nods, "we used to date"
"before Grant?" again Andrea is unsure of where the curiosity seems to come from, she sips her yellow drink wondering what it is and why it's so sugary.
Natalie seems to like the interest, maybe it makes her feel Andrea really cares.
"During Grant, before Grant. It is a long story"
Andrea nods "I didn't mean to"
"Don't worry, I have come to terms with it, my family wants something and that is what they get"
"I understand" she says
Suddenly her eyes darken and look downward, she drinks the yellow drink faster than she meant to, the mix of alcohol and sugar make her momentarily dizzy and she keeps quiet.
"This isn't New York, Andrea' Nicole says quietly
Andrea looks up, her chocolate brown eyes glassed over, trying to hold the tears.
"what do you mean?"
"I mean no fancy Miranda here to break your heart. You have to let her go. I have watched you since you came, the nostalgia and sadness in your eyes and though you never mention her… anyone would know. I'm I wrong? Is that not why you left New York, packed up your life, decided on a new career? Aren't you trying to forget her?"
Her friend's words are not hard, and they don't mean to hurt but they do. Andrea nods, "no you're not wrong"
"She doesn't deserve you to hurt over her, just like Char doesn't deserve to hurt over me. We've made choices Andrea. Miranda made hers now you live your life"
The school years pass faster than she remembered the first time around, despite their differences Natalie and her become the closest of friends, perhaps because despite those difference deep inside they were the same, caving to their families desires of them.
"congratulations" the blonde woman now doctor states arriving late to the party with a small bag in her hand. She hugs Andrea, and with her free hand reaches for a glass of champagne.
"Thank you," the brunette nods and smiles uncharacteristically
"I heard you passed the bar"
"not as big as an accomplishment as saving lives everyday" Andrea smiles
"You'll be saving lives in a different way" her bubbling Californian friend states
"I don't think so, in Chicago it will be more like saving corrupt politicians from jail"
they both laugh and walk over to the window of the large USC hall, it looked out into the peak hour streets, Figueroa Avenue teaming with cars, bumper to bumper cars, and people walking around in a hurry. Across the street stood the Natural History Museum which Andrea loved to wander into when she felt sad.
"So you decided" Natalie asks but it is more of a statement
"Andrea nods, "yes, but not my father's firm. I have an offer from Lockhart and associates.
"I'm impressed little one, "Natalie sais and before the conversation can get gloomier she asks "you'll come back for the wedding right?"
"Of course," Andrea answers, her friend is referring to her marriage to Garret, the family approved boyfriend that Nicole has been holding for years now, years in which she had a fling with Charles, years which have been miserable to her.
Andrea opts to now say a word about it, tonight is not the night. She doesn't say a thing the following year when the wedding happens, or when Nicole calls her the following morning to avoid spending time with her new husband.
"Come visit me," she pleads
"I'll try my best' Andrea quips but the truth is she doesn't want to face her friend. She won't be able to hold her thoughts much longer, she won't be able to stop herself from saying that Natalie did the wrong thing. She's going to make Garret miserable, and she's lying to herself. She wants to say that Nicole's marriage is either going to end in divorce or many trips to the therapist but she can't in good conscience give advice. She is miserable herself, still holding on to a memory of something that never was…. A dry chuckle escapes her and she lets the silver pen fall from her hand into the desk. It's been two years since Natalie got married. She calls her often, more often than Andrea things it is logical or sane for a newlywed to call. Every time they talk, her doctor friend talks about taking her niece to Disneyland, she never mentions Charles but Andrea knows that is the only reason why Nicole goes. When she's not taking Sabrina to the park, she is going to medical conferences, more medical conferences than are necessary. Still Andrea kept quiet just as Natalie kept quiet about Miranda.
"Andrea it's been three years since I saw you, my father is retiring we're having a shin-ding won't you please come? He'd love to see you?"
It's is an early phone call from her best friend, if she's honest her only friend. Andrea agrees, perhaps because she feels lonely, the four tidy walls of her downtown apartment with meticulous patterns and broad mirror and the decorator had suggested make her feel nostalgic.
She hates loving Miranda, hates that is she has in the last six years gone out with less people than she can count with her fingers. Maybe she accepts because she was feeling relaxed lounging in her warm sheets late into the morning on a day she had taken out of the office, maybe it is because she still has the rosy color and blood flowing from touching herself hard and rough as she imagined running her hands through someone else's hair. She sighs.
"So that's a yes?"
Andrea looks out toward the window snow has started to fall, light airy snowflakes twirling down in a haze. Perhaps she said yes because the cool California breeze and sun upon her feet sounds a lot better than here.
"Yes"
Natalie is thrilled she gabs on about a shopping day and time to meet the family dog Russel.
Andrea listens to her friend quietly, but her thoughts still wonder somewhere else, they always do. They wonder to Miranda, they wonder about what she might be doing at that moment, running a fashion shoot? Writing the editors letter? Having Starbucks? Or has she changed her coffee preferences? Does she still dine at that little restaurant near her townhome? Is she spending time with Caro and Cass? The girls must be so big now, almost 18. So much has happened since she was an assistant at the towering magazine conglomerate and yet her thoughts like in the early days still went back to the Dragon Lady. Would they ever go away? Would they ever stop?
The ex-journalist often wondered about that, would there be a point when her heart stopped gasping for breath, when it stopped aching? Would she find the right person someday?
She would stay up at night, fingers clicking away at her silver thin laptop and write … write poems about her, the allusive Ice Queen. Sometimes the poems turn dark, and they run long and she feels the warmth of tears roll down her cheeks. She closes the laptop with gentle thud echoes in her lonely room and she turns to grab notes on district court.
~ California
She walks down the beach, far enough from the ocean to not get wet but close enough to hear the roar, to feel the salt splashes, to see the tumult of the white foam against the sand. She has missed the ocean, the careless abandon it brings. She walks with her shoes in her hand, and her straightened hair wiping gentle at her sunglasses as the wind hits her face.
"Expensive Shoes" she hears a voice come from very near, two steps away. Andrea had been so caught up in her own thoughts, that she did not see the stranger approach. The beach had not been deserted yet it wasn't crowded. There had been a few lingering families and two or three couples catching the view, but the sky was foggy and the sun barely peaked. There was a chill that ran down the ocean and it was not an ideal day to be on the beach. The stranger was a tall man, early 30's, scruffy bear and eyes that could match the ocean.
Andrea shrugs and smiles oddly at the man, semi bothered to be interrupted in her thoughts.
"You don't look like you were dressed for the beach" he continues to speak and Andrea lets him. She hasn't had a conversation with anyone all day. She looks down at her Louboutin red sole shoes that she was holding in her hand, the black wide leg batiste pants and the organza shirt flowing underneath the white tweed jacket. She looked like she was ready to storm the boardroom not walk melancholy down the sand. The truth is, she was going to do some work for Lockhart and associates, in only three years she had only lost 3 cases at the firm, her first three, she was on the track to become partner and the firm was looking to expand to the West Coast. She was going to do some research while she was here, but the memories had gotten the better part of her, she had pulled over at the beach, taken her shoes off and walked down regardless of what onlookers thought.
"I wasn't coming to the beach, "she finally finds her voice, "I … it was a whim. I was doing some work"
"Work, in Louboutin and Chanel jackets? What do you do?" he asks. His insistence and outright curiosity does not bother Andrea, it reminds her of Natalie, maybe it's a SoCal trait she thinks.
"I'm a lawyer" she releases slowly.
"A lawyer, wow… you looked very deep in thought there, hard case?" he asks
Andrea shakes her head, "not really, I'm not out here for work. I came to see a college friend."
"Ah on vacation, workcation? Where are you from?" he asks
She had expected the question, "Chicago" she answers. She realizes she isn't walking anymore. She has stopped, she stopped the second the stranger spoke to her, but she just realized it.
"What does your friend do out here? Far from home?"
"She's a doctor, I went to college here at USC. Her dad is retiring I came to see her" Andrea explains as if he had a need to understand all of this.
"So, what alluded your thoughts so? In my, experience there are only a few reasons a broken heart or family loss?" he asks
Andrea starts walking slowly again, swinging in the tiniest her shoes.
"Not loss" she states
"A broken heart then?"
"I don't know that it can be called that" she says there are rocks approaching, black and glistening from the water. They must turn around, the end of the sand had started.
"What would you call it?"
"Something that never was, never started, "
"Ah unrequited love" he sighs
"I don't know if it's unrequited" she explains as if it made it better
"Well… I can tell you "
"From experience again?" she quips sarcastically.
He laughs, a nervous laugh, the kind that darts a glance and quickly covers it looking away.
She smiles, "yes" he answers and the answer is a pause a longing pause, a pregnant pause.
"My fiancée died two weeks before our wedding," he states ending with a dry chuckle, the kind that makes you feel hopeless.
"I'm so sorry" Andrea says. She has always though that saying I'm sorry when someone else's mother, lover, anyone dies is fake, they can't' possibly be sorry, they don't know how you feel. This time she means it, she does not know what this man is feeling, or felt but she's sorry that he had to go through that.
"It was a long time ago, which leads me to what I was going to say. Time, time makes everything bearable" he nods as they 180 and walk back to the point where they met.
"How did she die?" Andrea asks
"Car accident" he answers as if she had asked what was for dinner.
"I don't know that time will work for me" she muses after a beat
He turns, his eyes are now lighter as if telling her that confession has taken a weight of his shoulders.
"It works for everyone" he says
"I don't know why I'm telling you all this" she wonders out loud, switching her shoes and pulling out a hair tie to pull he hair up and out of her face.
"Sometimes it's easier to tell a stranger, someone who know nothing about your life."
She tilts her head up, Dior sunglasses cover half her face, she smiles the corner of her red stained lips curve and she nods takin a deep breath.
"Maybe you're right" she pauses "I've loved them for six years, "
"do they know?" he asks
"Yes, "she deadpans
"And they said no? " he looks confused pulling at the edge of his t-shirt. For the first time Andrea notices what the man is wearing, a simple dark blue t-shirt with the words "T-Media" and dark jeans rolled up to his ankles, he's barefoot and he wears a single Apple watch on his right hand, which means he's left handed.
"They didn't say anything" she whispers into the roar of the waves, she looks down at the sand.
"It will get better, everyone is on their own timeline" he insists, "broken hearts, or almost broken hearts all heal at their own pace. Some take weeks, months, years but they do heal. All wounds heal, they leave scars but they heal and they leave room for us to be reckless again," he states.
"And if they don't?" Andrea genuinely asks inhaling deeply as they've come to stand under the boardwalk.
"They dull," he pauses running his hand through his hair, "I don't even know your name"
She ponders, and reaches into her purse," Andrea."
"Andrea, I'm Steve," he pauses and looks down at the sand, "do you want to grab a drink?"
"I can't I have to meet my friend in a bit," she answers quicker than she has ever answered anything except maybe when Ronny from divorce law asked if he wanted a second date.
"I understand" he says and extends his hand out to her,
She takes it smiling, "but listen if you're ever in Chicago, we'll grab dinner" as she says it she pulls out a business card and hands it over.
"Criminal Law," he arches an eyebrow "I'm impressed, I may need this someday."
"See you around," she waves at him and walks away from the moment. Bearing her soul to a stranger had been uplifting in a sense. It had reminded her that there are people with bigger problems than her, with irreplaceable loss, at least Miranda was alive, and safe and happy.
The tears she had been holding pour out as she turns of the engine to her rental Jeep. She used to own a jeep during law school. Richard Sachs had insisted she needed a car in Los Angeles even if just for the duration of her schooling days at USC.
"LA isn't like New York Andy he would say shaking his head, no cabs on every corner. " he had been right like everything else. This Jeep was sleeker, and more grown up but still black and it made her smile. The tears seem to not stop, but she knows how to calm them down she's not stranger to tears, they come often. She's been crying for as long as she can remember since her grandmother passed away, and then for Miranda. Sometimes she's wake up at night from a vivid dream, tears pressed against the onyx pillow cover, she's wake up confused and laced with sleep crying. The depth of the loss, of all her losses pressed against her chest, it hurt, physical pain that seemed to reach deep inside everything she was. The pain was hallow, sometimes she'd gasp for air and she could not breathe, sharp jolts of pain stabbing her heart. She never thought it was real, heartbreak, until Olivia Nieto had passed away. Andrea would wake up with a longing she knew would never be filled, and deep desperate sadness that would often linger all day. 'I never thought I'd miss you this much, that it hurt this much,' she'd whisper in the darkness of her room. Then came Miranda and the hurt multiplied. 'I never thought you'd matter so much' she would say half angry at herself for falling in love.
When she was driving and the tears tempted to come down, she' count trees, or red stoplights, or white cars, the trick was to find something repeating, a pattern, a color, something that required little thinking and distracted the mind. It kept her from breaking down at important events, galas, and the freeways.
By the time she had arrived at Pelican Hill in Newport Beach where Natalie now lived she was calm, the soft, velvet notes of Frank Sinatra filled the emptiness of the car and she was ready to change into the dress and join her friend for dinner.
Natalie had insisted she stay at the house with them, it had a pressing ocean view and terrace that lead up to the incessant waves. She had denied in lieu of spending some time alone with a no lesser ocean view. Newport Beach was the Hamptons of New York, full of awe inspiring ocean views and houses to pair. Luxury dripped from the ostentatious beach houses to the sparkling clear blue waves that rocked melancholy over the rocky shores. It was full of five-star restaurant inspired by the waves they stood upon, with large windows to let the calm sea breeze in, and candle lights to make even the most stoic soul fall in love. It was the stuff California brochures are made off, glossy ocean vistas and bright smiling blondes with Prada swimsuits. Andrea though about Miranda, she would love it, how she would fit right in and instantly she shook the thought away. Miranda belonged to her New York life, in the past.
"Andrea! Oh my God, I've missed you so much" Natalie exclaimed jumping up from the white clothed table she was sitting at.
Andrea smiled and laughed at the pressure of her friend's hug. It was nice to see that she was still the same bubbling girl, bursting with words of praise and sunshine. Natalie looked more polished, a large Cartier bangle the only piece of jewelry hanging from her thin wrists, her once blond wavy hair, was light brown and pulled into a low bun and she wore a navy blue dress that ended mid-calf, and a tan cardigan that was strewn over the nearby table.
"You look gorgeous lady! Chicago suits you," Natalie continues before Andrea has had a change to say the same. She laughs, a hearty laugh spilling with sincerity and nostalgia for her days with Natalie.
"you do to," she says. A brief second after they sit and the scattered patrons go back to their own conversations Andrea notices her friend is not wearing her wedding band. Her eyes flicker up to the dark -haired waitress candidly making her way over,
"I'll take a Macallan, neat" she instantly spits out, "I'll have the same" Natalie offer quietly and the waitress wanders off without mentioning her name or what the house specials are.
They wait in semi-silence for a few ticking minutes, glancing over the dark covered menu. Andrea notices the sole in caper-butter sauce, sole always brings her back to Paris. Paris always brings her back to Miranda. She'll get the sole.
The whiskeys arrive and the waitress mumbles something about the chef's special to which both women as if in unison shake their head and order oysters to start. A smile plays along both their faces, friends indeed. After they order their respective entrees Natalie puckers her mouth and says, "I'm getting a divorce."
"Natalie, I do…" Andrea stops herself, she's about to say she doesn't know what to say, she's about to say she's sorry but she can't. Two thoughts play into her mind, first that now her friend is free to marry Charles and then that if her friend can do, then maybe she can find Miranda again.
"You can say it" Natalie states
"what?" Andrea sips on her drink.
"The I told you so, part. Or the I would have told you so."
The brunette lawyer shakes her head, her eyes sparkle like diamonds in the low lights of the restaurant and Natalie stares momentarily as if caught by her friends beauty that she had never seen before. Miranda had to be blind, she thought to herself, to let Andrea go.
"I just wish he had been the one" Andrea answers diplomatically as if she were playing a courtroom jury.
"Now I understand why you win all your cases" Natalie smiles melancholy, "you see we doctors are taught to speak the truth the brutally honest truth. To tell patients they are dying, that they need transplants we can't get, that their insurance does not cover their costly surgery, we have to tell families that their loved one has died or is dying. We don't play cover up, we don't have to wonder is the patient is innocent or if he is a good guy, we just have to tell them the truth. And the truth is Andrea, that I was miserable for a long, long time. I was miserable while I was hiding an affair with Grant, I was miserable every time I had to see Charles and know he was suffering, I was miserable having to lie to my family. I was miserable and you knew it. I know you never spoke up because you didn't want to move the plate, you didn't want me to say it was none of your business, you didn't even try to stop me from marrying Grant. You came and you drank French champagne with me. I don't blame you, in fact I'm not really sure why I'm saying this, I wasn't planning on it. I just wanted to see my best friend. Then you looked at my hand and you still said nothing. This is why you are still pinning for someone who may or may not love you, because you're too afraid to rock the boat" the epilogue had come out tumbling, unwarranted, unexpected, it had come out like most of these things often come out, repressed and raw.
"Oysters?" the waitress interrupted the now two silent women as Andrea tried to close her mouth and Natalie tried to breath steadily.
"We're going to need two more Macallans, "Andrea stated, "a lot more Macallan"
There is a moment that goes by, a beat, a palpable second where all three women feel the tension and then the waitress nods, and walks off. Andrea takes a deep breath and instead of disputing a single word her doctor friend has said nods, "I'm sorry, I should have spoken up."
Natalie nods, casting her glance toward the table and the now empty Macallan glasses that sit between them, she's too sad to cry so she shrugs.
"Well I don't really want to talk about that anymore. Tomorrow yes but for today I want to get drunk, completely wasted, like we did in school and then I want you to stay at my house because I feel lonely"
Andrea laughs and nods, I could not agree more"
