Andy didn't hear from Miranda all through Monday. Even if she remembered that Miranda had hinted at it being an extremely busy day, Andy still ached to at least hear her voice. She debated whether to text Miranda, but something held her back, as she felt, if not awkward, then a little apprehensive about last night's phone sex. What if Miranda had gotten cold feet? Or been overwhelmed by her resentment and pain, despite their long talk? Anything could have happened during the day that could have made Miranda doubt her visit to Andy tomorrow.
Instead, Andy heard from the twins just as she switched on her TV. First, she received a text from Cassidy, asking if it was all right to call her. When Andy texted a quick 'sure,' it took all but five seconds before her phone rang.
"Hi Cass," Andy said, and it did perk her up to hear from the kids.
"Andy! We are so curious and since Mom's been MIA all day, not even answering texts other than a one-syllable word, we thought we'd try you." Cassidy sounded energetic, and Andy tried to remember when she had felt like that after a long day. Not since college.
"What are you trying to weasel out of me now?" Andy had to chuckle. Cassidy's exuberance was contagious.
"We need more details about how your talk with Mom went. We have gotten exactly zero out of her, as you can imagine, and since bringing you back together was Caro's doing, we feel we should be kept in the loop just a tiny, little bit."
"So that's your reasoning. We had some honest conversations about why we fell out in Paris, and I think there's more to go through, but we left it on a good note. There you have it."
"That tells us nothing." Another voice, slightly darker than Cassidy's said.
"Hi, Caroline." Andy ran her hand over her face. "What do you mean?"
"When we left, Cass and I, the tension between you and Mom was thick as maple syrup. And we just want to hear a few details to reassure us that you two aren't going on another four-year-long hiatus from each other. We just got you back, Andy." Caroline spoke intensely, and Andy knew she meant every word.
Wracking her brain quickly, Andy thought of what to say. "All right. You do realize that I can't share everything as your mother spoke to me in confidence, and vice versa, right?"
"Okay," Cassidy said, her tone less chirpy.
"We did have a rather difficult conversation and there were some tears. I think perhaps that was good, as we had a lot of resentment bottled up. I felt much better when I left, though. Your mom and I have decided to stay connected." That was about as much as Andy was ready to share.
"We're glad you and Mom are on better terms, we really are. But…you sound a little dazed, Andy. Are you all right?" Caroline asked.
"I'm fine, sweetie." Andy let the term of endearment slip. "Just been a long day as usual."
"I bet." Cassidy hesitated. "When are you coming over again? Sometime next week when we're back from Dad's?"
"I don't know, Cass. I can't very well invite myself, and even if you guys live there too, any invitations have to come from your mother." Andy wasn't sure why she harbored such dread that Miranda wouldn't want to talk more, or, for that matter, escalate the physical attraction, little by little. Andy's guess that Miranda perhaps hadn't indulged in phone sex much, and thus was put off after the fact, was perhaps farfetched…but what else did she have to go on?
"Hey, I just got a text from Mom," Caroline said in the background. "Thank God, I thought we had somehow screwed up without knowing it."
Andy waited patiently while the girls pulled up the text.
"Oh, wow. That's not like her to do that out of the blue. What could this mean? Perhaps Andy knows?" Caroline's lighter voice became shrill. "Andy? You still there?"
"Yes. What's up?" Andy put the phone on speaker mode to avoid squeezing too hard.
"Mom just texted us this. 'Bobbseys. I'm fine, just very busy. I'm planning an extended weekend in Seattle the upcoming weekend and I have talked to your father and arranged for you to stay two extra days. We'll talk more when I get home after a function tonight. I will try and call before 9 pm.' That was unexpected. I thought her schedule was too full as it was." Caroline sighed. "Can this have anything to do with my bringing you back into our lives, Andy?"
"I doubt it." No, she didn't. Andy thought this, well, escape, had everything to do with Miranda doing what she'd said to Andy, half joking. Of fight, flight, and freeze—Miranda had picked flight. Andy could feel it. "Something important can have come up, you know."
"Yeah," Cassidy said slowly. "It's just, normally Mom tells us what that is. A reshoot, a new designer to rope in, or a conference…something like that. Now it is just her going to Seattle for a long weekend. Who the hell goes to Seattle for a long weekend in October?"
"And Mom's headlong in preparing for the November issue. That has taken all her time so far this month, along with the gala. For her to disappear for four days. That just doesn't happen." Caroline sounded worried.
"All right," Andy said. "If you think it might help, perhaps I can try and call her." No doubt Miranda would claim that Andy was approaching stalker status, but the girls' reasoning had merit, and it was worth a try.
"Okay. Thanks, Andy. Just call either of us when you've talked to her—or let us know if you can't reach her." Caroline sighed.
In other words, if Miranda ghosted her, or simply blew her off. Andy disconnected with the girls and then dialed Miranda before she ran out of courage.
Four signals went through, and then she reached Miranda's voicemail. Andy tried a few more times, letting half ten minutes pass between each attempt. When an hour had passed, she knew she had to leave a message. All she could do was hope that Miranda wouldn't play her voicemails via the speaker.
#
Miranda slipped into the town car and closed her eyes. Fumbling for her belt, she met Roy's glance in the rearview mirror. "Home, please, Roy." Miranda sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. A strange headache seemed to vibrate at the base of her skull and was spreading up along her scalp. Recognizing the budding migraine only too well, Miranda rummaged through her bag and found an unused nasal spray, prescribed for that reason. She administered it and sneezed twice.
"Miranda? Are you all right?" Roy asked cautiously.
"Just one of my headaches. I'll be fine. Thank you for asking." Miranda smiled wearily. Her day had been insane. She had been going through death by PowerPoint three times in a row, and when a fourth presenter brought their laptop up and their presentation had started with a cartoon firework, Miranda had given Serena a pointed look and gotten to her feet. "You take this one." She had strode out of the venue for the seminars and instead visited with four different designer collectives, something she had put off. She had managed to snag one of the freelance photographers to shoot stills for her that would help her memory as she was literally working as a Runway reporter, being there alone. The photographer had not believed his luck and had outdone himself, judging from the thumbnails visible on the back of his camera.
Finally getting around to checking her phone, she found her daughters had taken her suddenly altered plans with surprising ease. That wasn't like them, as they didn't appreciate her being absent too much when it was her week. Technically, it was their father's weekend with them, but they had to stay with him until Tuesday afternoon, after school. Mostly their messages contained of a set of undecipherable emojis, which wasn't unusual for her daughter, but they normally wrote her more than 'Cool, Mom.'
She had a set of texts from Andrea, which was equally unexpected. Eight missed calls. No real texts, but four voice mails.
Rubbing her temples, she clicked on the first one and lifted the phone to her ear, not wanting to share whatever Andrea had to say with Roy.
An automatic voice gave the time and date for the message, which had come in at 6.46 pm.
"Hi Miranda. Andy here. Please give me a call at this number when you have the time. Thanks."
Stopping the voicemail saying she had three more messages, Miranda blinked. Short and to the point, yes. But unless she was being overly dramatic, surely she had heard a concerned undertone. What could have happened? Wanting to dial Andrea immediately, Miranda still held off, as she wanted to get home first. Instead, she pressed the quick dial to listen to the rest of the messages. The next one was entered an hour later.
"Hi again, Miranda. Andy again here. I know, I shouldn't bother you this often, but I really need to talk to you. So, well, when you have the time, okay? Thanks."
Miranda just had time to register that her heart had picked up speed before the next message was announced. This one was forty minutes later than the one she just listened to.
"Either you are at some venue where they don't allow phones, or you have turned yours off. Something I know you rarely do, so I can't help but get worried. I know, I'm overreacting and it's none of my business anyway. I still need to talk to you. So—as soon as, please? Thanks." Andrea's voice was starker, and now it was obvious that she was either exasperated or truly concerned. Why this was the matter, was anyone's guess.
The fourth and last voice male had come in only a minute before Miranda left the warehouse where the designer collective lived and worked, which must have had horrible connectivity.
"Miranda, this is the last time I'm going to call for tonight. If I don't hear from you before I go to bed in an hour, I might just be worried enough to grab an Uber and head over to your place. This isn't about me. This is about the girls."
Just then, Roy pulled up at the townhouse. Miranda opened the door before he unbuckled his seatbelt, and jumped out of the car. "See you tomorrow morning, Roy. Goodnight," Miranda didn't wait for his reply but hurried up the few steps to her front door. As always Roy waited by the curb until she was inside, before driving off.
Miranda dialed Andrea and set the alarm at the same time. Two signals went through before she answered.
"Miranda! Thank God. I was moments from ordering an Uber." Andrea sounded winded.
"What about my girls?" Miranda kicked off her pumps and tossed her coat on one of the dressers. Heading for the kitchen she opened the fridge and pulled out a small bottle of Pellegrino.
"They're worried about your last-minute plans. When they couldn't reach you, they called me, and I tried to calm them down, but they were already agitated."
Miranda stopped with the bottle halfway to her lips. "I've had to do this many times before and they've never reacted like this. What's different this time?" Checking the time, Miranda saw it wasn't too late to call the girls.
"Because of how you delivered the news, I believe. And they listed a few facts that made me, I suppose, a little worried too. And before you bite my head off, I know it's none of my business. I do know that. It's just after, um, last night…"
"You flattered yourself that this perceived flight on my part was because I was choosing to run from you this time?" Miranda rubbed the back of her head and hissed some of the words, more from pain than from anger. "What facts?"
"What? Oh. They said you never do this without giving the reason. And then they talked about how hard you work for the last of the November issue and questioned how you could even dream of leaving Runway until that was tucked away."
Her girls were smart, Miranda knew that. Her casual way of letting them know about Seattle hadn't worked. And since it had been such a last-minute decision that she hadn't had the chance to ask Andrea about it either, no wonder it looked strange to all three of them.
"Andrea. I'm going to call my daughters to set their minds at ease, but before I do that, I want to ask you something—and my question might clarify it all to you." Miranda climbed one of the stools at the kitchen island. She envisioned Andrea sitting next to her on one of the other stools, sipping some water as well, while talking about her day, and laughing.
"Sure," Andrea said with obvious caution.
"Do you have any leave available to you?"
Andrea was quiet for a moment and then cleared her voice. "Wh-what? You mean, like vacation days?"
"Yes. Exactly that." Miranda rapped her fingers against the marble countertop.
"I have a few weeks, I believe, since I work all the time. Why?" Andrea's confusion was strangely delicious. Now that was an odd sensation.
"Would you like to join me in Seattle for a fashion show and an exhibition of fabrics, and for some…downtime?" Miranda heard how the words gushed out of her until she reached the last word—which she stumbled on in a way that made her wince. Downtime? Her girls would call her lame for that one if they ever found out.
"Uhm…downtime?" Andrea sounded non-plussed. "Sound like work, mostly, for you."
"Yes, well, it's not official. I heard about this event from some young designers, and they showed me some previews. I…" Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose and moaned when the migraine tried to bypass her medication.
"Miranda? What's wrong?" Andrea asked gently.
"Migraine. Anyway. I found myself strangely enthusiastic about this rather ambitious endeavor in Seattle, and had the idea that you might want to come with me if you weren't working." Miranda prayed that Andrea would answer quickly, one way or the other, so she could hang up and medicate some more.
"All right. I'm in. Will I still see you here at my place tomorrow?" Andrea sounded out of breath.
"Tomorrow. Yes. Yes, of course. See you then. Must call the girls. Goodnight, Andrea." Miranda spoke fast and then disconnected before a whimper of pure agony erupted. She drank more water, used another nasal spray and gave it twenty minutes before she dared call her girls. It was almost too much to have to go through her explanation one more time, but she knew she had to, or her girls would hound Andrea some more and God only knew what that might lead to. An intervention in the middle of the night, no doubt. Who knew that her daughter's sense of drama could spill over on Andrea like that?
After she talked to the twins, she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, her legs feeling like encased in concrete. She entered her bathroom and ran the tub, relieved that the second nasal spray had done the trick. The migraine had mellowed to a slightly annoying headache, which was something she could handle.
Dropping her clothes in the drycleaning hamper, and her lingerie in the regular one, she stopped in front of the mirror and regarded her pale face. She did look quite awful. Quickly removing her makeup, she then lowered herself into the bathtub and dunked her head under the water, and counted to thirty. As she surfaced, she heard her phone give a muted ping. Another text. Dear God, what now?
She saw there were two texts—one from Caroline, and one from Andrea.
Caroline: Mom. Sorry that we were all in your business, but when you act out of character, we get worried. Especially when we're not there to interrogate you. Cass figured it out though. She thinks you are so happy and distracted because Andy's back. Night, Mom. Cass sends hugs and me too!
Miranda groaned and then chuckled, only to cover her eyes as if to shut out the world for a moment. Her girls, clever and smart, also had great instincts. They weren't wrong.
Andrea Sachs: Hi. How is your head? Better? I'm in bed, and the thing is that I keep thinking about last night. We have phone sex once and then I'm conditioned to a degree that I feel alone in my bed. How strange is that? I will get us some good takeout tomorrow. I only wanted to say goodnight—again. /A.
Miranda read and reread the text. Her legs grew heavier still and her mind automatically returned to the previous evening. She had never had phone sex in her life, as that wasn't anything she'd ever trusted previous husbands and lovers with. Not once did she feel self-conscious or cringy when it was Andrea at the other end. She had been aroused and so focused on Andrea and the sounds she made, there had been no room for awkwardness. It felt good to know that Andrea was so strongly affected—and had no regrets.
Tapping on the screen of her phone, her smile turned into a chuckle as she replied.
MP: Andrea! Are you trying to drown me?
Continued in part 9