"Does that sound like something Zainab would do?"
"No."
"Then why are you asking me?"
"Because talking about her with someone who sees her everyday makes me feel like I still do."
Emily’s eyes welled. "Okay, I’m going to need a minute," she said as she put on her coat and headed outside.
Michael, who had been watching the whole exchange, shook his head when she was gone. "You two are unbelievable."
"You’ll excuse me if I don’t get too upset about your assessment."
"Actually, I won’t. If you want to make up with Zainab, you’ll probably be better off calling her than trying to pump information from her roommate." He shuddered. "And here’s hoping that’s all you want to pump her for."
"Michael—"
"What? She’s easy pickings because of Mitch, and it looks like you are too. It’s a valid fear."
"No, it’s not," Miranda said as she came up from the stairs, carrying a heavy box. "Richard, Michael’s right, call Zainab if you want information. Michael, stop talking about Emily like that—she isn’t easy pickings for anyone, trust me. She’s still totally in love with Mitch, and she’s miserable about it."
"That girl makes things much harder than she needs to."
"Just one more thing the two of you have in common. Now would someone get this door for me?" Michael practically pushed Richard out of the way to get the door for her. He tried to take the box too, but she pulled away before he could. She gave him a kiss, and then walked to the moving van Jordan was guarding outside.
"Sorry, I’m the one who’s unbelievable?" Richard said as Michael stood gazing after Miranda. "I thought she was going to kill you after we left last night. And I might have just let her."
"Well, you should be ashamed of yourself for using her like that."
"Like what? She and Emily worked on this for weeks, and I certainly didn’t pick out her dress."
"You could have sat next to him," Michael said sullenly.
Richard laughed. "You know why I didn’t worry? Because I’m much more secure about Miranda’s feeling for you than you are."
~~~
When Miranda and Emily arrived at five-thirty, they were blown away by how much work Jessie and Martin had gotten done. The floors were swept, tables set up, lights hung, liquor lined up and speakers strategically positioned. Jessie shrugged. "I figured, go to class, or do this."
Martin kissed Jessie as he brought out another small table. "And I thought, what a great excuse to see her."
"Blah, blah, blah," Jessie said, kissing him back. "Alright ladies—enough chitchat. Go get the food."
By six-thirty, all that needed to be done was for the four of them to change into their costumes. Emily went in first. When she came out, Miranda’s mouth went wide open. "Is he coming tonight?" Miranda said.
"Is who coming tonight?" Emily asked.
"Mitch," Miranda said quickly. She looked at Jessie, then grabbed her dress and ran into the bathroom.
"Why would Mitch be coming?" Emily asked irritably. "I didn’t think we were nearly as much fun as his law firm cronies."
"Emily, give him a break," Martin said. "I don’t think anyone goes to those things by choice."
By the time Miranda was done, Zainab walked into the office, holding her costume.
"I like it!" Zainab said as Jessie gave her a kiss on the cheek and then did a little twirl.
"Alright, well then, go get in yours before everyone comes!" Emily said as she shooed her away.
"Wait, Zainab, I’m going to help with your zippers—they can be tricky."
Emily looked confused, but then walked away to fix a light. Miranda raised her eyebrows, and Martin snickered before he went to change himself.
Martin and Zainab came out at the same time. "Nice!" Martin said admiringly. "I’m loving the whole Pirates of the Caribbean thing."
Miranda laughed. "So then you went with Frankenstein because...?"
"Hey," Jessie said, hugging Martin, "we don’t need to have coordinated costumes to be a couple."
"And who says Frankenstein can’t finally get lucky?"
Two minutes later, the first fifteen guests streamed in. Martin dimmed the lights, Jessie turned up the speakers, and the party began.
Emily and Zainab introduced Jessie, Miranda and Martin to their compatriots from the University.
"Emily, remember David Hwang?" Zainab asked as she put her arm around the neck of a man about two years older than they were.
Emily shook his hand. "Right; you were one of the three people from Student Government Council who wasn't disgusting. What are you up to now?"
The man laughed. "Running for Boston City Council!"
Emily and Zainab laughed.
At seven-thirty, people were dancing, drinking, eating and talking: all of the earmarks of a good party. Miranda, Emily and Zainab were giggling with a small group of people when Zainab felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Richard, dressed as a Harlequin clown. "Nice costume," she said with a smile. "It suits you."
"I was hoping you’d say that," Richard said, his eyes searching her. "Of course, not nearly as flattering as yours, but what can you do?"
"Richard, I had no idea you knew so many beautiful women," Ari said from behind Richard. He was dressed as a cowboy. "Aren’t you going to introduce me?"
"Sorry, where are my manners?" Richard said, not taking his eyes off of Zainab as he made the introductions.
"Ah, the intrepid Emily Graham," Ari said. "Pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I’m sorry you couldn’t join us last night."
"I am too," Emily smiled. "I had to get home to my daughter."
Ari looked surprised but didn’t let go of her hand. "You have a daughter? Oh, but you’re too young for that. And your husband couldn’t help while you took an important meeting?"
"My husband and I are separated."
Ari smiled. "Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that."
Miranda, Richard and Zainab stepped away. "I think," Richard said at last, "I should probably find Jessie." Miranda pointed to the corner where Jessie and Martin were making out. Richard shrugged. "Or I could wait a few minutes."
Miranda squeezed Zainab’s arm. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. I think I’m going to go—check—the lights. Bye!" She ran off before Zainab could say anything. When she looked over her shoulder a moment later, Zainab and Richard were laughing.
Miranda smiled as she surveyed the room. Everyone, for now, looked happy. Job well done. Her smile faded just a little bit before she walked over to the big window and leaned forward so she could look out onto the street.
"Now, then, that’s no place for the belle of the ball to be." Miranda smiled and turned around to face the big, tall pirate with a mask.
"Maybe," she conceded. "But I don’t think I’m this ball’s belle."
"Now how could that possibly be?"
She shrugged. "I just realized that I don’t really know any of these people."
"Where’s Jessie?"
"Canoodling with Martin."
"Zainab?"
"Making Richard trip over his words."
"Emily?"
"Making the final pitch to Ari."
"Oh. Good. What about the guys?"
"Vijay found some of his old classmates and now they’re all working on the final version of some drink they came up with in Chemistry class. I thought I should give them room."
"Agreed. So what’s keeping you here then?"
"I guess I just wanted to see if anyone else was coming."
"Anyone in particular?"
Miranda shrugged. "I don’t know...someone who might ask me to dance."
"Hmm. I’m not sure who you had in mind. I might ask if the music was slower, but for this..." He clicked his tongue. "I don’t know. You see, a long time ago, this really beautiful girl…very good dancer on top of that…broke my heart when she told me I was a lousy dancer. Something about me screwing up at her bat mitzvah
when I was fifteen. And then she danced with some other guy just to prove her point. Frankly, I’ve been traumatized since then—two left feet."
"Tragic," Miranda said flatly. "I guess I’ll just have to wait for someone else to ask me."
"I guess so."
They stood on the wall without saying anything or looking at each other, both half-giggling. Michael Jackson’s Rock with You came on a few songs later. He took a deep breath. "You wouldn’t…want to…dance to this, right?"
She put her hand in his. "I think I would with you."
"Then we should." He pulled her onto the floor where others were dancing. They looked at each other for a moment. She closed her eyes and started moving. She opened them and he was still staring. She put her hands on his hips. "You have to move these just a little bit," she said, "then everything else follows."
"Oh, like this?" He moved his hips, then his feet, then even his shoulders. He moved well. "Have I got the hang of it?"
"I think so," she said a little breathlessly.
Half an hour later they were still dancing. Jessie caught Zainab’s eye and winked at her, and even Emily had to admit how good they looked together.
He twirled Miranda around so her back was pressed into his chest. "Getting tired yet?" he whispered.
"No, but I think I could leave anyway."
"Then let’s go." He led her out as she grabbed her bag. They found a cab, and he playfully pulled her in. He kissed her hungrily in the cab, and she thought she was in danger of forgetting where she was. Fortunately, the cab arrived at his house shortly thereafter.
They didn’t turn on the lights. "Just one thing," she said, taking the mask off of him. She nibbled on his ear and ran her hand over his cheeks. "Did you think that was going to hide you from me?"
Michael kissed her neck as he started to unfasten her dress. "I don’t hide from you." He sighed as she undid his pants. "I just wanted you to have an excuse to leave with me."
"I don’t need an excuse," she said as she pulled his shirt over his head.
"Are you staying?" he asked as he kissed her shoulder. "Because I’m going to lose my mind right now if the answer is no."
"I’m staying," she said, but he heard the quiver in her voice.
"What is it?" he whispered.
"I’m still scared." She sighed as he touched her. "It’s been so long."
"Too long," he agreed, "but I haven’t forgotten one inch of you."
She thought she’d remembered what it was like when he made love to her, but she hadn’t. She’d been with Alex more times than she cared to remember after Michael had left. He had been skilled, competent, efficient. He had done what he needed to. But it had never been anything like what it was with Michael. No more loneliness or wondering why.
Miranda felt like every touch of his was fire, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to get enough of him. "Don’t go," she whispered. He remembered when she’d said that before, and whispered back, "You won't get rid of me again."
She kissed his hairy chest sleepily as he pulled the covers over them. "I’d be so disappointed if this house warmed up," she said, pulling him closer to her.
"All part of my evil plot," he said as he stroked her arm.
"Oh, good," she said, tickling him.
She’d just started to drift off when she heard him say her name. "Hmm?"
"I said, the next time we make love, I don’t want there to be anything between us." As tired as she was, it took her a minute to understand what he meant. By the time she did, he’d fallen asleep. So he didn’t feel her heart race, and he didn’t feel the tear trickle onto his arm as she turned away from him in his sleep.
CHAPTER 15
Michael woke up and reached his hand out for her. He opened his eyes when he saw that she was gone. He called her name, but she didn’t answer. He put on his pajamas and ventured out into the living room.
She was sitting on the couch, lacing up her shoes. Her hair was wet from the shower. He looked at the clock. It was seven. "I don’t think we need to get in that early this morning," he said as he walked over to her.
She stood up and turned her back to him as she put on her sweater. "I should probably do a little clean up since I left so early."
It was too early for this. "Okay, what the Hell is going on?" he snapped. "Did I dream last night? What is your problem?"
"Michael, can we just…look, I’ll see you tonight, okay?"
He put his hand on the door before she could open it. "So you’re willing to move in with me, but you don’t want to look at me after we’ve had sex? Am I missing something?"
She looked up. He could tell that she’d been crying. "If you want to have unprotected sex, get a vasectomy."
So she’d heard that. "Don’t you think that would defeat the whole purpose?"
She clutched her bag to her chest and walked back to the couch. "Why do you have to do this? I chose you. You’re the most important thing. So why do you have to wave everything else I’ve given up in my face?"
Michael sighed. "You don’t have to give anything up—"
"Jesus, Michael!" She clenched her hands to make them stop shaking. "Since when did you want a baby?"
"Since you told me that you’d be willing to stay with someone like Alex Sheldon, the man who should have been your stepfather, after everything he did to you, because you could have children with him."
"That is not what I said, and by the way that sounds like a lousy reason to have a child. For us to have a child."
"Sweetheart, our child would have seven great-grandparents versus the usual eight. In the general population, a baby has a two to three percent chance of having a birth defect. Our baby would have only a four percent chance of—."
"That is four percent too many!" she shouted. "And I already know that, alright? So stop spewing all of these factoids you got off of some website. I know more about this than you could imagine, because I actually spoke to someone."
Miranda covered her mouth, trying to snatch her words back. "Why?" Michael said at last. "Why did you talk to someone?"
She looked up at him and struggled to maintain her composure. "Can’t you just be happy Michael? Can’t you be happy because we’re together, because of last night, because of the other nights we’ll have? Why do you have to do this?"
"Answer my question," he demanded.
She clutched her bag tighter. "Please don’t make me."
"Weren’t you the one getting in my face a few nights ago about the need to be honest, and not play games?"
"I swear, this isn’t a game."
"Then tell me the truth now!" he bellowed. Miranda didn’t move. She waited, giving him one more chance to stop. But he didn’t move either.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe. "Are you sure?"
"If you love me at all, tell me the truth."
"Fine." She opened her purse and took out a small, folded envelope. She gently put it on the coffee table. "Open it."
"What is it?"
"Picture’s worth a thousand words. Open it."
He picked up the envelope. He took out the wedding ring he’d given her. He looked at her, and she shook her head. He put it on the table. Then he took out the rest. He gasped. He sat down. "What the Hell is this?"
"What you think it is," she said. She’d put down her purse. Now she was hugging herself, just as she had on the beach. "When Emily gave me her envelopes, you know what I thought? This doesn’t matter. I got it, you know? And I knew—I knew what it meant, and I knew what people would think. But it didn’t matter to me. Because I loved you and we were happy. And you were everything. But then I started—I started to feel sick. Just a little bit. And then I said no. Because my body was trying to tell me something that the rest of me just wouldn’t listen to. And then I couldn’t say no anymore. I threw up for about ten minutes afterward. I thought, okay—I guess I can’t argue with myself. I went to see Richard, and I made him track everything down. I came here, and I told you to leav
e. Then I went to the beach and I waited to die because I couldn’t argue with the truth, but I didn’t want to accept it. Guess what though? That wasn’t what my body was trying to tell me."
Michael wiped his mouth with his hands. This is when he would have had a drink before. "Okay," he said finally, not brave enough to look at her. "When—"
"Would you believe it took me a month and a half after you left to figure it out? I was sort of out of it. I wasn’t paying attention to certain things. And then I came downstairs finally, and Richard and Zainab were watching the news where an anchor said the date on TV. It occurred to me then. So I went to the doctor the next day, and I found out for sure."
She felt like she might be sick all over again, but this time with grief. "And you know what? I was really happy. Almost as happy as I’d been when you were here. Because I’d come to accept at that point that you and I couldn’t be together. And maybe we shouldn’t because even without Michael Abbot Senior between us, it had just been too much, and maybe not enough. You’d never been satisfied with just me. You were always so sad that I didn’t love you before, and nothing I ever did made you really happy the way you made me happy. So maybe we, the two of us, couldn’t be together. But we could this way."
He looked up. "So what happened?"
"I was happy," she repeated, "but I didn’t know if anyone else was going to be happy for me. So I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t know what to say yet." She shrugged. "I told the doctor who the father was. He was concerned. He wanted to run some tests. And they found I’m a carrier for something. Smith-Lemli-Opitz. Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but I’ll never forget it. Not something Eastern European Jews are usually afflicted with. It’s most probably from my mother’s side of the family." The color drained from his face, but she continued. "It’s not a good thing to have, let’s put it that way. Their heads can be smaller, and their hearts and lungs are usually deformed. Some other things too. And if they aren’t slow to develop, they just might be autistic. But here’s the best part. You’re not going to get it unless both parents give you the gene for it.
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