Page 61… in a fiction series
“Hi Harry, it’s me.”
“Miranda… it’s good to hear your voice. How are you?”
“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.”
“So if you’re not on your boat, where are you?”
“I’m in my dining room. In my house.”
Silence on the line.
“I’m here, hun.” He sounded confused. “It’s just that I can’t believe… you bought a house?”
“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.
“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.