Saturday, August 8

Anywhere!North.

It was one of those mythical Saturday awakenings that rarely ever happened these days.

The consciousness came to her gently, with sun rays teasing her eyelids, and a bird chirping an enthusiastic solo. Her eyes still closed, she sensed she was alone in the bed, and she stretched languidly, feeling rested for the first time in a long while. Her muscles pulled a bit after yesterday's exercise. Still, after a sleep like this she felt strong enough to row around the lake twice, if need be. Inhaling the unsullied northern air, she moaned with a pleasure: a smell of freshly made coffee was wafting to her nostr-

Whoa! Andy surged up in bed. She blinked dazedly.

A smell of coffee?

She sniffed once more, unbelieving. Yes, there it was, a sharp, energizing scent that made her jaw hurt in happy anticipation. She stumbled out of bed, and following her nose, bounded directly to the terrace.

What the fuck? She leaned weakly on the doorjamb and stared, mouth half-open.

There was food on the table. A lot of it.

There was a basket of bagels, and a pan of scrambled eggs, and a bowl of cherry tomatoes, and a steaming pile of pancakes and two kinds of jam and a jar of freshly squeezed orange juice.

There was Miranda, as well, lounging comfortably in that dark, loosely fitting robe, delicately sipping her coffee.

Reading the NY Times.

After a few ineffectual tries, Andy finally managed to squeak. "Wha- How-?"

"Andrea. As eloquent as ever," Miranda said without raising her eyes from the stock market report.

"Where—where did this come from?"

"I am quite intrigued as well," Miranda said without a trace of curiosity in her voice, "Apparently, it comes with the house."

"What? It just... appeared?" Andy stared dazedly at Miranda's cup, "From thin air?"

"Good help is never seen or heard," Miranda sniffed. "You should take notes."

"I see," Andy shook her head, trying to dislodge the haze. "And I suppose the paper was also delivered by the invisible butler."

"How should I know?" Miranda finally looked up. She sounded scandalized. "Really, Andrea, your sudden fascination with the intricacies of the service business is rather ridiculous."

"Of course. Right. Silly me." Andy slowly moved back inside, expecting to step back through the mirror anytime now. "I'll just go… wash up a bit."

As she stumbled back to the bathroom, she thought she heard Miranda's snorting with amusement.

Andy glared across the table, getting more annoyed by minute. God,what an idiot I am.Of course, she had figured it all out the moment she splashed some water to her face. To cut a long story short: Miranda had managed to make a fool out of her again. Every sip of that perfect espresso felt like a slap on her face. God, she must have been laughing her ass off yesterday while Andy was playing Robinson Crusoe. Today, obviously, she tired of the game and summoned the minions.

Once again, everything was perfect in Miranda's world.

Andy, on the other hand, wanted to dump eggs on her head.

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore, "You have another phone, don't you?"

"Of course," Miranda sniffed and turned the page to Arts section, "I also have my laptop and my iPad. Andrea, your Midwestern roots are showing once again. Did you really think we would have to row to the closest phone booth?"

That manipulative- Andy could feel the edge of the knife handle biting in her palm.

The receding worry had left a lot of empty places for anger to fill. And they were filling rapidly. That vein in her left temple began thumping again. Andy couldn't be sure if the embarrassment or the fury were pumping blood to her face.

"I can't believe you'd -," Andy bit off her angry retort, staring at Miranda. Well, that was unexpected.

Miranda's cheeks were turning red.

She was perfectly still, seemingly immersed in whatever article she was reading, but her porcelain cheekbones were sporting two pinkish blotches. Andy blinked. What the hell?

"Miranda?" The crimson intensified but except for the tightening of the lips, there was no answer.

If Andy knew what was good for her, she'd start running right now. Seeing Miranda embarrassed - it never ended well for the witness. And she had the Harry Potter Incident to prove it.

If Andy knew what was good for her, she'd pretend she didn't notice anything and quit prodding. She'd cease and desist right fucking now.

Except...

All the unnecessary worrying, all the unresolved feelings, the guilt over Paris and over stranding them here, the whole ping pong of casual insults and underhanded kindness, the veiled seductions and the blatant dismissals, it was all coming to boil.

"Miranda?" Andy asked levelly although her heart was thumping, "what does it mean?"

Miranda's lips thinned in annoyance "Bore someone else with-"

Andy slapped the table, rattling the plates, and making Miranda jump. "There is nobody else, damn it! Just us!"

She took a deep breath and continued more quietly, "So please stop playing games. And stop treating me like an idiot."

"Then stop behaving like one!" Miranda said scathingly, her eyes boring into Andy's, "Are you a child or just demented? Why do you think we are here?"

"I don't know!" Andy yelled, her frustration getting the better of her, "Perhaps you are making me pay for Paris? Perhaps fucking with my head gives you a thrill? Perhaps making me miserable makes you feel good?"

Miranda blanched, and then raised her chin, "I see."

"In that case there is nothing to talk about, is there?" Her voice turned flat, void of emotion. She took the phone out of the robe pocket and slid it carelessly over the table, "Here. Call for the car and stop wasting my time."

Andy stared at the phone, her fingers itching. She really, really wanted to grab that fucking phone and hurl it in the water. It wouldn't be the first.The thought startled her enough to calm down just a tiny bit. Enough to rewind back the whole weekend, to the fact that Miranda chose to be here, with her. She wanted it sufficiently to suffer the canned soup, the imperfect coiffure, the wine served in a mug.

Andy gazed back at Miranda.

She picked up the phone and Miranda's lips tightened.

Then, she gently placed it on Miranda's paper. "No."

Miranda's eyes widened. Surprised you, didn't I? The obvious shock gave Andy a familiar thrill. She might as well admit it; whatever it was between them, Andy would not be the one to put a stop to it. But she wouldn't be the one to start it either. She had put herself on line plenty of times. It was Miranda's turn now.

Miranda flicked her eyes between the phone and Andy. Then, she pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "What do you want, Andrea?"

"At the moment, your laptop," Andy said calmly.

Miranda's eyebrow shot up.

Andy shrugged, "If we are to stay here, I need to file my article."

Miranda looked at her intently, her eyes piercing Andy's. Andy stared back unflinchingly.

Then Miranda turned back to the paper, as if nothing ever happened. Offhandedly, she offered, "In the car. Front sit."

But Andy did catch that barely noticeable lift of her lips.