Hi Harry… it’s me.

Page 61… in a fiction series

Miranda picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hi Harry, it’s me.”

“Miranda… it’s good to hear your voice.  How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you still living aboard your boat?” 

“I sold it.  I finished the restoration over the summer and sold it on the day that everything worked.” 

Harry laughed.  “I knew you could do it, Miranda… I’ve always believed in you.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

“So if you’re not on your boat, where are you?”

“I’m in my dining room.  In my house.”

“Your house?”

“My house.”

Silence on the line.

“Harry…?”

“I’m here, hun.”  He sounded confused.  “It’s just that I can’t believe… you bought a house?”

More silence…

“So Miranda… you’re working?”

“Yes.  I have a good job.”

“That’s wonderful news!”

Harry was humoring her, just like he did when they were together, Miranda up to her ears in bubbles, Harry still gorgeous after a long day at work.  He listened to her silly stories, leaned over and splashed her with water till she screamed, then kissed her on the top of her head, still laughing.  Miranda was still trying to put those memories behind her. 

“And what kind of work do you do?”

“It’s classified, Harry,  I can’t tell you.  Let’s just say I’m in sales.”

“And do you get to wear pretty clothes every day?  I know how you like to dress up and look nice for work…” 

“I’m all business now, Harry.  And my work is demanding… not much time for fashion these days.”

He missed those times when he took her shopping, and she came home and tried on everything in her shopping bags.  She would twirl and spin until she became dizzy and fell into his lap, giggling and kissing him.  Miranda missed him terribly, laughing with him, sleeping with him.  She still loved Harry…

“Harry…”  She was going to ask him where he was.  Maybe they could go have dinner someplace.

He interrupted.  “I was just thinking about how much you’ve changed.” He was proud of her.  “So.  What exactly are you doing in your dining room?”

“I just painted it red.”  She sounded like a girl again.

“That sounds great!  Are you actually going to eat in there?” Have you taken up cooking?  Or have you found a restaurant that caters, or maybe a chef?” He was thinking about the home they once shared.  She desperately wanted a Jenn-Air, then used the oven to store her dictionary, thesaurus, reference materials, and a couple of phone books.  She never cooked a meal, Harry loved her anyway.  He cleared his throat, a crack in his smile.  

“Is it like our dining room at home?”

“Brighter, shinier, but yes… sort of like that.”

“I bet it’s beautiful, Miranda, just like…”

“It is.  Where are you?”

“I just left home and I’m heading to Mallard Point for the weekend.”

Mallard Point is the Traverse City yacht club where Harry and Miranda spent their summers.  They had a wonderful time on their boat until she ruined it all by having an affair with Charlie Fine (AKA Judas).   She walked away from an adoring husband and a happy life.   Miranda could sense the conversation going downhill.

“Oh… so you’re still a member?”

“I had no reason to leave, hun…  I wasn’t the one who caused all the commotion.  And in case you’re wondering, Charlie Fine is still a member, too… shows no remorse.”  She recognised his icy tone.

“Are you by yourself?”  She was still hoping to see him.

“Mandy is coming  up to join me later.  She had a doctor’s appointment, just a routine ultrasound.”

“Who?  A girl with a baby? What are you talking about?”

“I got married, Miranda.  Mandy is having our baby.”

To be continued…

*This story is based on some true events, however, has been fictionalized and all persons appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2012, Shoes for an Imaginary Life. All rights reserved.

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19 Responses to Hi Harry… it’s me.

  1. Theresa says:

    This one was so painful for me to read. I find myself wanting to be her friend…wanting to take her out to lunch…somewhere quiet and talk to her..to tell her how sad this makes me feel, but also to tell her how truly special she is…that she is bright , beautiful, charming, and has a heart that cares about so much. I would try to remind her that she still has much to be excited about. I would encourage her to search out a “good” doctor and to be as honest as possible even though there is a down side to taking the right types and doses of medicine. I would also ………if the door actually opened……mention that the Lord loves her, has searched her, and known her is fully acquainted with all her ways, and loves her with an unfailing love………and offers her comfort and strength.

    Hugs,
    Theresa

  2. Larry Who says:

    There for a moment, I thought you were going to do a takeoff on a Harry Chapin’s song, Taxi: “How are you, Harry?” I said, “How are you, Sue?” Through the too many miles and the too little smiles I still remember you.”

    Actually, both the song and your story seem to go well together. Conflict causes readers, especially me, to keep turning the pages.

    Okay, I’m ready. Let’s turn the page.

    • Linda says:

      1972… a little before my time, but I googled the song and it would be a great fit!

      I like conflict, too, when I read… especially when it just gets worse!

  3. Jim Travis says:

    Hi Linda,
    I hadn’t thought of Larry’s angle on things, but he is so right, the song goes right with the story. What a sad song and a sadder story, but I guess we are all a tapestry that has to be woven in our own way, however God sees fit, some more painful than others. God Bless-Jim

    • Linda says:

      Is the tapestry the one that looks beautiful after all the scraggly bits and pieces are put together? I guess we’ve all been there, even Miranda. : )

  4. Ann says:

    Uh-ohh….

    That hurts. Much. Please flip the page, thanks.

    Blessings,
    Ann

  5. Jan says:

    I feel as if I was just punched in the stomach. My heart hurts for her.

  6. .endtransmission. says:

    This is a gut wrenching chapter. You’ve painted such a clear picture of her sorrow, remorse, and despair. I think my eyes welled up. Maybe it’s all the garlic and onions in my pasta sauce… Yeah, that must be it…

  7. Debbie says:

    Oh, I didn’t see this coming as I read. I was hoping and wishing and thought maybe . . .argh! Can we rescue Miranda yet? haha! Okay . ..I’ll just get my tissues and keep turning the pages too! God bless you and all your days! And God bless your momma’s heart, that loves deeply.

    • Linda says:

      Some days it would be nice to be rescued, not just from babies that will never be, but the small things, too. For someone with bipolar disorder, madness is almost a sure thing during a crisis like this one. But wait–

    • Linda says:

      Miranda thought there might be a happy ending with Harry, too. The thing about alcoholics, is that rescuing them is often the worst thing to do. I’m off to an Alanon meeting today where 20 loving moms who want to rescue their sons and daughters will be told they simply can’t. :/

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