Miranda

"Ah, damnit," I cursed under my breath at the computer screen. I was playing a game of solitaire and I was performing rather poorly. As I moved the mouse pointer over to a set of cards to deal a new set of three cards, there was a knock on my door. "Come in," I said without looking to see who it was. I didn't need to look.

"Lostprophets again?" She crinkled her nose at my taste in music. At least, I pictured her crinkling her nose. I still hadn't turned my attention away from my monitor, but I knew her well enough to guess her facial expressions fairly accurately.

"What can I say? I just love their songs. You should read some of their lyrics. It might change your mind about the music I listen to. It's actually pretty deep stuff," I replied as I stretched my arms over my head and leaned back. I looked back at her as I felt my back pop. From my viewpoint she was upside down and I could see something was different about her. "You cut your hair."

She ran a hand through her blonde bob. Just the other day it had been past her shoulders, but now it barely reached her chin. "You like it? My mom went nuts, but Dave seemed to like it."

"Of course Dave liked it. The boy worships the ground you walk upon," I turned back to my computer screen and said a silent curse to myself when I saw the next set of cards the program had dealt me.

She walked over and flopped down on my couch, casually picking up my most recent copy ofGame Informer magazine. "Well, he is my little brother, but I still value his opinion," she replied flipping through the pages. "You still haven't told me if you like it."

"I like it. It suits you," I answered without looking away.

"That's it? It suits me?" She sat up and moved up to the edge of the couch.

"Well, what did you want me to say? That I found you ravishing?" I looked over at her and gave her one of my patented grins. By this point, I had given up on my game of Solitaire figuring that the game had it out for me and I wouldn't be winning any games today.

She grinned and flopped backwards on the couch again. "Well, that would be a start. I'd prefer 'sexy.'"

"So would I, but you don't hear me bitching about it," I teased. I closed the program and returned to a word document that I had abandoned earlier that afternoon in favor of my futile attempt to win at least one game.

"Oh, what are you working on?" She leaned forward again and I noticed her hair falling forward with her. It framed her cheeks and I noticed how her brown eyes contrasted sharply with the yellow tones of her hair. Her new haircut was sexy.

I shrugged my shoulders and scratched my right eyebrow taking pains not to disturb the silver hoop that pierced my skin there. "It's nothing much. Just some silly old story."

She moved closer to get a better look at the screen and caught a light scent of her perfume. The smell reminded me of apples. "Is it one ofthose stories?" She rested her chin on my left shoulder and read the text on the screen.

I laughed and shook my head. "No, but I have a rough draft of a new one if you want to read it later. I can e-mail it to you tonight."

"That'd be cool," she replied sitting back on the couch. "It's a shame that someone with your talent should waste it on such filth," she said in a sarcastic tone.

I stuck my tongue out at her. I knew she was really a fan of my writing, especially my erotic literature. She was the first and only person I had ever let read everything I wrote. She always gave constructive criticism and even honestly told me when a story wasn't any good. I suppose if writers have groupies, she was my first official groupie. "That filth as you put it has kept you warm many a night," I joked and then dodged a light slap on the head from her.

She flopped back on the couch once more and went back to flipping through my magazine. "What's so great about video games?"

"They give me time to think and they're great for inspiration sometimes."

She raised an eyebrow at me and then turned the magazine around to show me a picture of a female character in some new video game. "Yeah, 'inspiration.'" She made quotation marks with her fingers when she said "inspiration."

I stood up from my chair and stretched once more. I took the magazine from her and looked at the article. "You know I don't play fighting games. I'm more of an RPG person or platform games."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say. You can't tell me that you haven't at least looked at this magazine and thought about writing a story about a girl with huge boobs."

I tossed the magazine back at her and turned around to go back towards my bedroom. "I guess you'll never know for sure," I said slyly as I closed the door. I glanced at the clock as I searched for a clean pair of jeans.

"You know it's nearly one and you're still in your pajama bottoms," she shouted from the couch as if reading my mind.

I didn't say anything and just smiled as I pulled a black long sleeved shirt over my head. I had thought of replying with a smart comment about her helping me get dressed, but figured the moment had passed. I ran a hairbrush through my hair after putting on my jeans and headed back into the living room.

I heard the refrigerator door open followed by the sounds of her searching my cabinets for a glass. About thirty seconds later she emerged with a glass of orange juice in her hand and I noticed her nails had been recently manicured. The tops of her nails were white and the entire nail shined almost unnaturally.

"Your cupboard is looking mighty bare Mother Hubbard," she joked.

"I was going to run to the grocery store today. Care to join me?" I grabbed my license and some cash from the coffee table and stuffed them in my back pocket.

"Well, it's not the exciting adventure I was hoping to go on today, but I've got nothing better to do."

"I'll cook dinner for you," I offered. I knew she didn't mind going with me.

"OK, that's fair enough payment," she paused and then added, "as long as it's not frozen waffles again."

"No, I was thinking grilled chicken breast with some roasted veggies."

"Sounds yummy. Can we have some wine too? Oh, and candle light?" She was joking around now.

"Yes, whatever it takes to shut you up," I grabbed her arm and gently led her out the door.

She blew a raspberry at me and walked outside. I locked the door behind me and turned around quickly, bumping into her accidentally.

"Oh, sorry about that," I said not immediately stepping away. Her face was directly in front of mine and I looked her in the eyes for a moment before turning away and stepping to the side.

There was an awkward moment of silence before she said, "My fault, I was standing too close. I was just admiring the blue sky."

I looked up and understood why she had been admiring it. There wasn't a cloud to be seen anywhere. A light breeze wafted over us and I realized that this was the perfect spring day you always read about but rarely ever see.

I was about to ask her if she wanted to go to the park today as well, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards my car. "Come on," she said impatiently.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I replied hurriedly. I hit the unlock button on my keyless entry and she went around to the passenger side. I took one last look at the sky before opening my door and hopping into my seat.

I grabbed a random CD and put it in the CD player before putting the car in gear and heading towards the store. I noticed she was just watching the scenery pass by.

When we passed by my favorite deli she asked, "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, why?" I stopped at a red light and looked over at her to see her grinning back at me. I sighed in mock aggravation, "Fine, I'll take you out for lunch too."

She giggled and said, "You spoil me." She hugged my arm and rested her head on my shoulder.

Once again I was reminded of apples and I also smelled wildflowers. I realized her perfume was mixing in with the smell of her shampoo. I suddenly wished I had worn short sleeves so that I could feel her hair against my skin. I sighed wistfully and she suddenly sat up and returned to her side of the car.

"Sorry," she replied. "Was I interfering with your driving?"

"Huh? Oh, no, not at all." I put on a false smile as I felt a pang of sadness hit my gut. I found a parking space close to the entrance and got out of the car.

We made our orders. I had my usual turkey club and she ordered a roast beef. We got our drinks while we waited for our sandwiches to be made.

I could tell she had something on her mind. She didn't say anything to me and just sipped her soda through a thin red straw. She tapped her neatly manicured nails on the table rapidly. She never had much patience when it came to food.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I looked up at her face and for the first time that day I noticed she was wearing a very light layer of makeup.

"Oh, uh, it's nothing really. I just have a lot on my mind today," she answered as she tucked some hair behind her right ear.

I raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't ask any other questions. She'd probably tell me what was on her mind that evening.

She perked up some when our sandwiches came to the table. I noticed the waitress giving me a funny look and then walking away.

"I think she recognized you," I heard her say to me.

"Nah, she doesn't look like the type that would read my material," I looked back over at her now devouring her roast beef sandwich. "You didn't have breakfast did you?"

"Neither did you," she replied with her mouth full.

"That's because I slept in until noon," I said bluntly.

She giggled a little and took another sip of her soda. She looked back over at our waitress. "She keeps looking over here. I'm telling you she recognizes you."

I glanced back over to my right. Sure enough the waitress met my gaze and quickly turned away. "Maybe you're right." I shrugged and returned to my own sandwich.

We ate silently for the next two minutes. She had finished about half of her sandwich when she looked over at me. She had a serious expression on her face that was out of character for her. "I read a new review on Amazon yesterday."

I swallowed the food I had in my mouth. "You know I don't take those reviews seriously. Mostly its uneducated teenagers who think its funny to use foul language every other word."

"I think you'd like this one. It was quite a favorable review done by someone who claimed to be a newspaper journalist. He's eagerly anticipating a sequel I think is what he said." She picked up her sandwich and took another bite.

"So is my publisher," I joked.

"You know not all your good reviews have to come from theNew York Times," she admonished. "By the way, how is the writing going? Are you going to make your deadline?"

My mouth was full, so I just nodded my head. "I'll be sending Bill the first draft some time next week. Depends on if I get anything done this weekend."

She smiled broadly. "That's great! I think they're really going to love this book. Well, better than the first one I mean."

"I hope so or else I'll be working here for a living instead of sitting on my butt all day coming up character ideas." I wiped my mouth off with a napkin before taking a sip of my root beer.

She put down her sandwich and looked at me seriously again. I met her gaze and cocked my head at her. "Can I ask you something Stace?"

"Stace" was her little nickname for me. I nodded my head, "Shoot."

She took a rather big sip of her soda and looked up at me. "Where do you get your inspiration from?"

"Oh, the usual. Nature, music, movies, other books...but then you know this already."

"Yeah, that's where you get your plot ideas, but what about characters? You never have really told me where their personalities come from." She just stared at me waiting for an answer.

I knew what she was hinting at, but I didn't want to have that discussion here. Actually I don't think it mattered where we were. I didn't want to have this discussion, period. "Oh, well, most of my characters are just splinters of my own personality. Most of them are wildly exaggerated of course."

"What about Miranda?" She hadn't looked away from me once since she had asked the initial question.

She just had to ask about Miranda. Now I knew I didn't want to have this conversation with her. I sighed and looked to my left where there was a window. I noticed an older gentleman shuffling along the sidewalk slowly. He bent over to pick up a coin off the ground and went back to shuffling.

"Well?" She grabbed my hand and shook it gently.

I turned back to look at her. Miranda was supporting character in my first published book. That book was the reason I was able to pay for the lunch we were eating and the reason I could afford to live in the suburbs now. That book had brought me fame, fortune, and my dream come true of being a published author. For all the good it had done me, it wasn't going to buy me a way out of this conversation.

She squeezed my hand and I looked up at her. "Sometimes I base characters on people I know, and I guess Miranda is an example of that."

"So, who did you base her on?"

"You know the answer to this question, so why are you asking?"

"Maybe because I want to hear it from you."

"Melissa, this isn't going to change anything between us. I know that and you know that. We've been through this before so why go over it again?"

Finally, she looked away from me and down at her plate. "Because you hadn't written a book about it before," she muttered.

I was about to ask another question, probably the wrong question to ask, when our waitress appeared out of nowhere. She turned to me and I saw that she was holding a copy of my book. I saw my own face smiling back at me on the back cover next to a little blurb about the book.

"I'm sorry, but I just had to come over and make sure it was you. I have to say that I love your book! I told Irene you were a regular here, but she didn't believe me! Would it be too much to ask for an autograph?"

I forced a smile. "Sure, I'll sign your book. Do you have a pen?" I took the book and a pen from her hand and opened the front cover. I looked back up at her and noticed she was probably in her mid-fifties or early sixties. Her black hair was tied behind her in a bun. The color was obviously not her own and the hair appeared to have the texture of pine straw. "Who do you want me to sign it to?"

"Dorothy please," she answered politely. She placed her hands in front of her and she seemed very excited. I was probably the closest she'd ever come to celebrity and to say that I was a celebrity was an overstatement.

As I scribbled some stupid little note about enjoying hearing from my fans, I wondered what a woman like Dorothy saw in my book. Maybe she didn't realize the lead character was a lesbian who fell in love with a woman she could never have. Then again, maybe she was gay herself. Or maybe she didn't understand symbolism.

When I handed the book back to her, she thanked me and asked if there was going to be a sequel. I told her that there was a second book being published in the next few months. She then added, "Oh good. I keep hoping that Joy will find some nice young man to settle down with."

I held back a laugh and I heard Melissa nearly choke on her sandwich. "Well you'll just have to read to find out what happens." I guess she didn't understand symbolism after all.

Melissa and I managed to make it out to our car before we both broke into uncontrollable laughter. "I really hope Joy finds a nice man," she imitated Dorothy as best she could.

I laughed at her impersonation and became thankful that she had forgotten about our earlier conversation. I was just hoping we could get through the grocery store without her remembering it.

The shopping was uneventful. I let her pick out what vegetables she wanted and I selected the wine. While I was browsing over the chicken breasts, she stood close to me and whispered, "I still want to finish our conversation."

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. So she hadn't forgotten after all. "Fine," I said rather harshly. If she wanted to destroy our friendship once and for all I wasn't going to stop her, but I wasn't going to make it easy for her. She was going to have to be the one to fire the fatal shot.

We didn't say another word to each other until we reached my apartment. I think she knew it was better not to ask me anything else until we were behind closed doors. Once inside, I immediately headed for my kitchen and began to prepare what would probably be our final meal together.

"Mind if I go ahead and break into the wine?" She entered the kitchen holding the bottle.

"It's not chilled yet, but if you want to go ahead. Corkscrew is in its usual place," I said over my shoulder, not bothering to look at her. After a couple of seconds of silence I added, "I could use a drink."

She carefully pulled the cork from the bottle and poured two glasses. She brought me my glass and handed it to me while I chopped up some onions and squash. "So, did you base Miranda on me?"

She never had much patience when it came to me either. I took a large gulp of wine. "Yes."

"Why? Is it because of what happened between us?" She hopped up and sat on the counter to the left of me. She took a small sip of her wine.

"What do you think?" I angrily chopped the onion in front of me. I hoped she wouldn't mind diced onions.

"I don't know what to think. I thought you were finally OK with things, but after reading your book and the new manuscript I wonder if you really are." She started tapping the wine glass with those polished nails I had admired earlier. Now, they were starting to annoy me.

"What's wrong? Afraid your mother might figure out who Miranda is based on? Afraid that when the second book comes out and Miranda and Joy get together she might learn that her little girl fucked a dyke?" The onions were now minced and I noticed my hand was shaking.

"No! Any way, we both agreed that night was a mistake. I was drunk, and...well, it shouldn't have happened!" Melissa jumped off the counter and turned away from me. She was crying, but she didn't want me to see it.

"No,you agreed that it was a mistake. I thought it was a great experience and so did you at first. And you were not drunk. That was just some excuse you came up with so that your fellow Jesus freaks would feel sorry for you!" I felt my face grow hot and I knew that somewhere deep inside of me a dam had burst. Two years worth of repressed anger and pain were spewing out of me and Melissa was getting the brunt of it.

She turned around and I could see the streaks on her cheeks where her tears had washed away some of her makeup. "Fuck you!" She was screaming and I figured the neighbors might have heard, but I didn't give a damn.

"No, we already did that, or did you forget? It was easy for you to just use me to try a woman on for size since your boyfriend was treating you like shit. You never cared that I fell in love with you. You knew how easy it would be to get me to sleep with you and when you didn't like your friends' reactions to me, you dumped me." I hardly noticed that my voice had cracked and that my hand was cramping from holding onto the knife too tightly.

She seemed surprised by what I had said. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but seemingly couldn't find her voice. Finally she whispered, "I never meant to use you."

"But you knew I was in love with you...I still am." I stared at her. For a fleeting moment I thought she might kiss me or tell me she loved me too like it always happens in the movies. Instead, she just set her glass down on the counter.

"I thought I was in love with you too, but..." she stopped as a couple of tears rolled down her face and fell to the floor.