Chapter 3
That evening Kym returned. In her hand she held what looked like a Styrofoam cup of some kind of soup and a brown paper bag.
"You didn't show up to dinner. I was concerned." Kym stated, setting the food down beside Miranda, who had not moved since she'd left.
Miranda stirred in her seat, looking at the food that had just been set down next to her. Whatever it was, it looked awful. Miranda's stomach churned and she felt nauseous, as if she might vomit. With shaking hands, she pushed herself away from the chair and made it gracefully inside the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind her before she unceremoniously collapsed in a heap in front of the toilet, emptying her already very empty stomach into the bowl. She closed her eyes and winced as the bile rose in her throat and then receded. She did not like this at all.
She leaned back against the wall, her body aching to lie down, but she'd be damned if she left the bathroom and allowed her new "roommate" to see her in such a state.
She felt her whole body shaking and she reached for the shower, turning it on to give the room some steam.
It felt like the room was spinning. Miranda closed her eyes and put her head into her unsteady hands.
Why did it hurt so bad?
~*~
When Miranda finally exited the bathroom, much, much later that evening, she found Kym sitting cross-legged on her bed. She had hoped that the girl would be asleep, but she was not. Instead she was writing, adamantly in a journal. Miranda decided that if she didn't look at or acknowledge her, then perhaps she wouldn't talk.
But she guessed wrong.
"I didn't realize the soup here was that bad," The girl snidely remarked.
Miranda just wiped at her eyes and moved to her bag, in search of something to wear to bed.
"So what's your story? You look sort of famous maybe, like I should know who you are." Kym just had to ask questions.
And instead of answering, Miranda went about extracting Calvin Klein pajamas. Next was her Dolce and Gabbana make-up bag that was complete with her toiletries. She had packed as if she'd be spending a month in France, which she would much rather be doing...
"All right, you're not going to talk. Fair enough. So I can just keep talking to you, and tell you all about myself then? Right?"
Miranda turned on the girl. "No, not right. I don't care about you. I have no interest in the details of your mundane, pointless life. I am simply here for a month, and then I will be gone. We will mean nothing to each other now or ever, so it is meaningless to sit here and discuss your life, or my life, because in the end it won't matter." She quipped, her voice dripping with an eerie lightness. And before a shocked Kym could make any sort of come back, Miranda disappeared into the bathroom once again.
~*~
Group therapy session.
Miranda sat as far outside the circle as she possibly could. Her legs were elegantly crossed and she masked the shaking of her hands by folding them across her chest. Her posture suggested her boredom, and her piercing blues eyed everyone briefly before moving to the window.
She listened, or at least pretended to listen, as one man explained how he had began drinking after his wife left him. He spoke of how abusive he would become, how he would hit his wife, his kids...
...and Miranda couldn't help but feel a slight chill spin its way down her spine. She tried not to listen, but his story sounded so very similar to, well, to her own.
But when it came time for Miranda to introduce herself she shook her head and refused.
The therapist, Susan, humorously laughed it off and moved on, but once they had said their group prayer, which was more like a chant that Miranda took no part in, Susan approached her.
"Miranda, may I speak to you for a moment?" Susan inquired.
Miranda sighed and sat back down in her seat, watching as everyone else escaped to freedom. What Miranda really wanted to do was return back to her room where she could sit and be alone and not have to discuss any part of her life, nor admit to having any kind of problem.
"You were awfully quiet today." Susan very apparently and annoyingly pointed out the obvious in a way that made Miranda cringe, for it was like having a teacher scolding her as if she were three. Miranda did not find this comment worthy of a response. "Listen, if you want to get better, you're going to have to open up. And I am most certain you don't want me to send you to the head of the center. He isn't very kind," Miranda glared at this woman. This really was like elementary school all over again.
Miranda just nodded. "May I leave now?"
Susan opened her mouth as if she was about to say something else, but then closed it and nodded.
Miranda got up and made her way to the door as fast as she could.
"Just make sure you share next time." Susan called after her.
Ridiculous. This whole experience was ridiculous.
Miranda made her way angrily out the front doors of the facility and searched for the path she had been so adamantly focused on the night before when she had sat in the chair all night instead of sleeping. Yes, instead of sleeping - for Miranda never slept - she had stared blankly out the window at a path that wound its way into the woods. She had spent half the time focused on the path and the other half she'd spent studying the girl she was sharing the room with.
She looked oddly familiar. Her features were so youthful. Her deep brown eyes had been concealed behind soft, pale eyelids, her eyelashes long and dark. Her nose was long and slightly pointed at the tip. Her lips were large and luscious looking. Her dark hair with mangy blonde highlights throughout looked amateurish. Her body beneath the blanket looked small, yet round. Her arm, which had appeared out of the sheet at some point during the night had been long and slender, her black fingernails obvious in the moonlight. Moments later a leg had appeared from beneath the uncomfortable looking deep blue sheets. A soft, pale looking leg with what had looked like bright pink toenails had come into view.
Miranda was very good at studying people. It had been like looking at van Eyck's self-portrait; she could make out every imperfection on the girls face, similar, even, to studying the models in her magazine.
But what did she find so captivating and interesting about this dull, annoying girl?
The girl who was standing idly beside a pond that had emerged at the end of the trail Miranda had just been mindlessly traveling on.
Miranda stopped, dead in her tracks, watching as the familiar figure stood with one arm crossed over her chest, and the other dangling down at her side, cigarette in hand. She was standing, staring out over the pond, seemingly watching a bird, or animal on the other side.
Sensing that someone was watching, the brunette turned on her heel and found herself staring at her condescending, older roommate.
Miranda adverted her eyes and mindlessly stepped forward, as if she might just continue on the path as if she hadn't seen her younger roommate, whom she had spent the night studying.
"Can you see that deer over there?" Kym inquired boldly, unfazed by Miranda and the biting remark she might make in return.
Miranda, instead of responding, squinted and glanced across the pond. The smoke from Kym's cigarette infiltrated her senses and she immediately craved one. She hadn't smoked in ages, but she suddenly found herself in desperate need of a cigarette.
As if she could read her mind, Kym turned to Miranda and extended the pack of cigarettes out, "want one?"
Of course she did, but she wasn't going to give in. Not to this young, annoying child. She shook her head and turned, walking away.
She didn't need to replace one bad habit with another.
~*~
But that damn cigarette smell lingered on her and in her room when she returned. Sitting back in her chair, she realized the shake in her hands was getting worse.
In an attempt to not think about a cigarette, she pulled out a notepad and a pencil. Her hand was shaking so hard that she wasn't sure she could write, or draw for that matter, but she put pencil to paper and began to sketch. At first it was a line, but it soon turned into a face. A face surrounded by short, choppy, dark hair. Large eyes followed, along with a pointy nose, and then full luscious lips. And by the time she'd finished, she realized she had just drawn Kym...
As she studied the picture she had enough nerve to rip it to pieces and stomp all over it, but there was something that stopped her from ruining it. Something wasn't quite right about the face, and Miranda wasn't quite sure what it was...
The door clicked open and Miranda quickly shut her notepad, glancing away.
"Hey roomie, what are you doing?" Still with the questions...honestly. Miranda sharply exhaled and slid the notepad back into her bag.
But Kym was not put off. Instead she made her way to her bed, dropping several books off and grabbing her own notepad, placing it safely into her bag. "Are you coming to dinner tonight? And then the lecture on cocaine?"
Cocaine?
Miranda shook her head, but just as she did so, her stomach growled. She longed for a Smith and Wollensky steak.
"Okay you are coming. I don't care if you hate me even more for the rest of your stay here; you are coming with me and eating." Kym moved WAY too close into Miranda's personal space and extended her hand.
Miranda shook her head and looked away, making a point to stand up of her own accord. Reluctantly she followed the young girl out of the room and down to the dining hall.
It was loud and noisy and Miranda hated it. Having no idea what to do in such a situation, Miranda followed Kym as she made her way through a stall, into a kitchen area. Miranda's stomach churned at the poor food choices they were given. Nothing looked good. Absolutely nothing. Not even the leafy green salad looked edible. Miranda wanted her cook and a good New York restaurant or two instead of this crap.
She watched as Kym picked out a hamburger and some fries.
That was not acceptable.
Kym, noticing that Miranda was not impressed with the food choices, instructed her to go sit.
Miranda frowned, what was this girl up to?
Uncomfortably, Miranda made her way through the cafeteria area. She found a secluded table in the back and perched herself atop one of the stools. She could feel all eyes on her and immediately felt uncomfortable. She knew they recognized her and she knew what they were thinking. She was an addict, she was human, she had a huge fault, she was weak...
And suddenly the familiar brunette emerged out of the scary public carrying a tray of what looked like semi-edible food. She sat it down in front of Miranda and then sat in the seat across from her older roommate. And suddenly Miranda's concerns with the people surrounding her vanished.
"So I found out who you are, today." Kym said, not even looking to see if Miranda liked the steak and mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli and fruit cup she had secured for Miranda - the chef's quite liked her.
Miranda looked up from studying the food before her, tempting Kym to go on and explain who she was.
"You run Runway. You're the editor-in-chief. And I hear you're quite a bitch." Kym indulged her.
Miranda had to try her hardest not to smirk. The girl had guts. And she didn't appear to be afraid.
They dined in silence, Miranda slowly processing and swallowing the under par steak for she was hungry enough to not care, but she also didn't want to make it look as if she actually enjoyed the food.
And soon it was time for the nightly lecture and as much as Miranda wanted to vanish back to the room and be by herself, there was something about being with Kym that made her feel...comfortable?
Miranda was confused by these strange emotions welling up inside of her. She was frustrated, yet intrigued. Angry, yet scared.
It was only for 26 more days...
~*~
That evening Kym wrote in her journal as Miranda showered and put on pajamas she would once again not be sleeping in. Kym indulged Miranda and allowed the evening to remain without dialogue.
But as it neared time for Kym to sleep, she stared over at the older, silver-haired woman who was perched, once again, a top her chair, reading the newspaper adamantly.
"Don't you ever sleep?" She dared to ask and Miranda's head appeared as she turned the edge of the newspaper down to give the girl a winning glare.
"No." She quickly responded and then went back to reading.
"You are so strange." Kym mumbled more to herself than to the editor.
Miranda secretly smirked behind her newspaper.