Miranda McMullen

Meeting the new in-laws wasn't easy for Miranda McMullen. In her quest for knowledge, Miranda read Burroughs and Winterson and Henri James. Hell, she even gave up sex. Her theory was very simple. Sex before the blessed event was a distraction. Well, Miranda thought so anyway. Then again, Miranda wasn't exactly an intellectual. In some circles, she was considered dumb. Her ex, Skyler, knew everything about everything. It was hard for Miranda, not knowing if she was dumb or not. Perhaps she was just being hard on herself. Then again, maybe she was dumb. She loved Skyler, but she was marrying a man named Jackson.

Miranda decided to dazzle her in-laws with sophistication. On the other hand, her fiancee's non-stop erection was taking precedence over sophistication. In short, he was going bonkers. Masturbation was an essential aspect of Jackson's life.

The coffee cup made a clanking sound when Miranda picked it up. It had an abstract art deco design and a powder blue handle.

"Good coffee," Miranda grinned. She was unaware of one crucial detail. No one had started in on their coffee as of yet. Meanwhile, Miranda was drowning her coffee with multiple packets of sugar and multiple packets of cream. She was slurping it down like an uncivilized cretin.

It was like being under a spotlight. There were three pairs of eyes on Miranda. Jackson watched Miranda while he watched his mother. Jackson wanted to know what his mother thought of Miranda. He wanted to know if Miranda's display of ignorance had offended her in any way. Jackson's father watched his son and then his eyes looked toward his wife. He was watching his wife and his wife was watching Miranda. The mother in-law watched Miranda as she crossed her legs; left over right, right over left. Miranda was momentarily unaware of her wardrobe choice. Namely, the purple summer dress that barely covered each kneecap. Miranda coughed and then she stopped playing with the ends of her hair. Meanwhile, her fiancée's mouth froze into an o shape. His words of encouragement were trapped in his cerebral cortex.

"Jackson tells us that your ex is a graduate of Columbia College."

That was a curve ball. Technically, Miranda wasn't "out" yet. For some reason, Jackson thought that Skyler was a man. Miranda wanted to tell her fiancee the truth, she really did. Then again, assumption was a rather tacky thing. Still, the question itself was a curve ball. The java went down Miranda's throat and then it made a u-turn. It decided that Miranda's swallowing organs were to strong to resist.

"Are you ok?" asked Jackson, patting his future wife on the back. He wondered what his mother was thinking. Was she concerned about Miranda's welfare?

"Sit down, sit down," yelped Miranda. She pushed her in law's away with a wild gesture of her hands. Miranda felt sick. The scent of imported furniture polish made her gag.

The in-laws took their place on the sofa. They were sitting opposite of the lovebirds and the lovebirds were seated on a black recliner with an aqua cushion. Jackson took his place beside Miranda and then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His hand slid down Miranda's back and he felt the coarse fabric of her bra strap.

"Don't touch me like that," thought Miranda. She tried not to scrunch her face up. His fingers were so god damn needy. If he wanted to fuck, this wasn't exactly the time.

Jackson's mother in-law sighed and then Miranda looked at Jackson. He was smiling. Miranda wondered what the hell Jackson was smiling about. He urged his wife to break the ice with a grunt and then a cough. Her shoulders slumped and then her breaths became short and agitated. She should've never married a man with poor social skills.

"So, why did he leave you Miranda?"

"He?" Miranda wondered, scanning the social rolodex in her mind. She wondered who Jackson's mother was talking about. Jackson was the only male lover that Miranda had ever been with.

"Your ex Miranda, what was his name? Skyler, I think."

"Oh, Skyler," Miranda exclaimed, eyes widening, hands scratching her chin, head nodding rather robotically in a display of mock acknowledgement. Miranda wondered what else Jackson had told his mother. She wondered why she was having sex with this man. Truth be told, Jackson wasn't all that good.

"Why did you and Skyler break up?" asked Miranda's father in-law. The java settled in his throat and then he spoke. He smiled a Lolitaesque type of smile at Miranda. Now she knew why she preferred women minstead of men . His smile made Miranda's skin crawl.

Miranda looked at her mother in law for a moment. She wondered if the old crow had a sense of humor. Jackson stroked Miranda's hair and then she looked away. Jackson's father sipped his coffee rather seductively. His eyes lingered on Miranda for a moment and then they looked away. Jackson looked at his mom and then she looked at her husband and then her husband looked at Miranda. The mother in law looked at her future daughter in law with an aire of suspicion. She wondered what Miranda was so nervous about.

"You ok?" asked Jackson, his hot breath tickling Miranda's earlobe. At that moment, she knew why she wanted Jackson to give up smoking. His breath smelled of tobacco and some sort of spicy egg sandwich from a fast food joint.

"I'm fine," huffed Miranda. She wished that Jackson wasn't so touchy feely. He was driving her up the fucking wall. She heard his mouth as it made a rather innocent clicking sound. He admired the silkiness and the fullness of Miranda's curls.

The mother in law picked up her coffee cup and then her husband picked up his. Jackson drank his coffee and then Miranda followed suit. Miranda McMullen wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

The mother in-law sipped her coffee and then she spoke. She was illustrating her grand display of etiquette.

"So, why did he break up with you?"

"Mom," Jackson whined. He wondered why this question was so damn difficult for Miranda to answer. Then again, Jackson only had limited knowledge of the situation. Besides, he didn't wanna speculate.

Miranda took a breath. Ok, so everyone thought that Skyler was a man. So what? In the scheme of things, one little white lie wasn't going to hurt anyone. Besides, Miranda's bullshitting skills were second to none.

"It's ok Jackson. I'm over him." Miranda was proud of herself for emphasizing the him pronoun.

"What happened dear?" asked the father in law, as he snuck a peek at Miranda's legs. His eyes were carefully aware of the other female that was in the room.

"We grew apart," sighed Miranda. She tipped her head back like a diva and then she flashed everyone a carefree grin. Yes, Miranda McMullen was in complete control.

"And?" urged the mother in law, pushing Miranda forward with a windmill like motion of her hands and a rather constipated movement of her head.

Miranda looked at Jackson for help, but he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled rather innocently. One fact was abundantly clear to Miranda. Jackson was a god damn momma's boy.

"Dad, mom is interrogating Miranda."

"I'm not interrogating her," cackled the mother in law. She wondered what her husband was so damn fidgety about. His leg bounced up and down and his gray dress slacks made a whooshing sound. He was desperately trying to find a comfort zone on the couch. Jackson's father looked at Miranda and then he mumbled a sexual vulgarity under his breath. He flashed Miranda a smile when his wife and son weren't looking.

"How could anyone leave you?" asked the father in law. He placed his hand on his wife's knee and then he squeezed the flesh rather seductively. Miranda saw the gesture. Perhaps he wanted to fuck her on the coffee table.

"Will you stop it?" said the mother in law, nudging her husband in the chest with the point of her elbow. Miranda sipped her coffee and then she looked at her in-laws. She let the java settle in her throat and then she flashed her fiancée a manufactured smile. Miranda was a natural at pretending.

Miranda And Skyler:

Let's set the record straight. Miranda and Skyler were not exclusive and they were not together. Still, Miranda wound up in Skyler's bed from time to time. Who could explain it? Miranda certainly couldn't.

The thunder clapped and then the curtains jerked forward rather violently. A single candle burned brightly on the nightstand beside the bed. It smelled like peppermint and its flame danced rather indecisively. The flame coated the walls with a tiny shadow of light. Skyler could see their bodies when they were making love. The darkened silhouettes moved with their own purpose and they looked different than the humans they were mimicking. Skyler's favorite song was on the stereo. It was a trippy, synth guitar ditty by Sophie B. Hawkins. It was called, "The One You Have Not Seen." It was Skyler's favorite tune on Sophie's third album. She thought of Miranda when she heard that song. Miranda never climaxed in silence. Skyler was reminded of her lover's kiss. Miranda's mouth always fought for space.

"Skyler?" whispered Miranda. She watched Skyler's chest as it contracted up and down. Skyler's eyes were closed and her hands were resting on her stomach.

"What, Miranda?" groaned Skyler.

"I'm getting married."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" asked Skyler, her eyes wide open now. Skyler looked up at the ceiling and then she took a breath. She wondered why Miranda was sharing this information with her. Skyler threw the cover off and then she sat down at the edge of the bed.

"I'm marrying Jackson. I'm getting married Skyler."

Skyler groaned. She went into the bathroom and then she grabbed a nightshirt and a pair of panties from the bathroom closet. Skyler collected herself and then she went to the window. She grabbed a cigarette from the pack that was on the ledge and then she lit the leafy brown center. Skyler exhaled and then a few broken smoke rings floated into the air. Skyler wondered why she wasn't angry with Miranda. She liked the rain, the way it sounded.

"You're a high maintenance gal," laughed Skyler. She wondered if she had a right to say anything about Miranda's marriage. She didn't want to seem jealous. Afterall, jealousy was tacky and unbecoming. Skyler was a Columbia College grad for goodness sake.

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Miranda. Skyler had never talked to her like that before. Miranda wondered if "hell" was a curse word.

Skyler exhaled and then she blew the cigarette smoke towards the ceiling. She put her square in the clay ashtray and then she threw her head back. Skyler took Miranda's hand and then she traced the hump shape of her knuckles and then she traced the tight skin and then she traced the bones that were underneath.

"Do you love me, Miranda?"

Miranda looked surprised. She never thought that the "l" word was in Skyler's vocabulary. Skyler wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of monogamy. Miranda wondered if she was dreaming. She put her hand over her mouth, but a small giggle still erupted from the pit of Miranda's belly. The giggle turned into an uproarious sort of laughter. Miranda had to catch her breath.

"Don't fucking laugh at me," said Skyler, rising to her feet. She looked at Miranda and then she returned to the window and then she took a puff of her cigarette and then she placed it back in the ashtray. Miranda wiped the grin from her face and then she lifted her head up. She admired Skyler's curves for a moment and then she pushed herself into a standing position. Miranda joined her lover at the window. She loved the darkness, the way it softened Skyler's face.

"Say it again."

"What?"

"Say you love me Skyler."

"No fucking way, Miranda."

"Tell me you love me, Skyler." Miranda gave Skyler a playful poke in the ribs and then she pinched her lover's belly. Skyler laughed and then she shook her head. She looked at Miranda with awe and wonder. Her lover was mildly amusing this morning.

"Oh fuck. I love you Miranda. Ok, I fucking love you."

Skyler looked into Miranda's eyes. She stroked Miranda's cheek with her thumb and at that moment, Skyler felt herself lifting off. She felt an insatiable craving for Miranda's lips.

"We can't do this," said Miranda. She sidestepped Skyler's lips as they approached hers. Skyler closed her eyes and then she counted to ten. She made a smacking sound with her lips and then she nodded her head slightly.

"I take it back, I don't give a fuck about you."

"What?" squeaked Miranda. She wondered where Skyler's tenderness had gone.

"I don't fucking love you, Miranda."

"Don't swear so much Skyler," chirped Miranda.

"Do I swear too fucking much?"

Miranda got back under the covers. She felt a warm sensation in her tummy when she thought about the weekend. Saturday was all about sex and music and unbridled laziness.

"Why did you tell me about your fucking marriage?"

Miranda's eyes opened and then her tongue protruded over her teeth. Skyler thought that her lover's nervousness was rather sexy. She wondered if Miranda was daring enough to lie to her.

"I'm fucking waiting, Miranda."

"I want you to be my bridesmaid, Skyler." Miranda winced. Her request was rather plastic.

Skyler laughed. She turned towards the window and then she mumbled a curse word or two under her breath. For a moment, Miranda thought that she was in the clear. Skyler was actually laughing. Skyler never laughed.

"Skyler?"

"What?"

"Don't what me."

"Shut the fuck up Miranda!"

"Don't talk to me like that!"

Skyler laughed again. Miranda wondered what she was thinking. She wondered what Skyler was feeling.

"Do you love him?"

"What?"

Skyler pounded the air and then her head bobbed downward. Miranda thought that her lover was being dramatic.

"Do, you, love, him!"

Miranda thought about the question. She wondered what love had to do with anything. This marriage wasn't about love. No, it was about convenience.

"I don't know Skyler, I don't know."

"Great fuckin answer, Miranda."

"You got a better one?"

"I know one fucking thing."

"What?" asked Miranda.

"I can't be your fucking bridesmaid."

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Miranda, sitting up on the bed.

"Miranda, I can't watch you get married. Are you fucking crazy?"

"Why am I crazy?" asked Miranda, throwing the cover off. Miranda put her hand on her lover's shoulder. She gave Skyler's collarbone a slight kiss, but all she tasted was cotton.

"Think about it Miranda, just fucking think about it." Skyler pushed Miranda's hand away and then she plopped down on the edge of the bed. She watched Miranda's shoulders as they tensed.

"Miranda?"

"What?" she sniffed, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Come to bed."

"Why the hell should I?" sobbed Miranda.

"You're very convincing in bed," laughed Skyler, patting the empty space of the mattress. Miranda turned towards her lover. She smiled when she saw Skyler's outstretched arms. Miranda thought about the situation. She walked with an aire of hesitation, as though there was an element of danger in Skyler's embrace. Miranda looked at her lover's face and then she traced the skin rather sensuously. She wrapped her arms around Skyler and then she exhaled.

"Please, don't leave me. Don't leave me."

Skyler felt Miranda's tears on the back of her neck.

"Oh fuck Miranda, don't talk like that."

The Out And Out Of Things:

The cedar table was an engagement present from Jackson's mother. Miranda preferred an oak table. She thought that an oak table was more fashionable. Of course, Jackson's mother objected. She thought that oak was cheap looking and she thought that cedar was strong in both quality and color. Truth be told, Miranda really didn't give a damn about the dining table. In truth, she really didn't give a damn about the table or the wedding. In truth, Miranda really didn't give a damn about Jackson, or his in-laws. No, she had other things on her mind.

The lovebirds were eating breakfast on the blue oak table with the white tablecloth. It was breakfast time and the dish of the day was oatmeal and the oatmeal had the consistency of cement. When Miranda dived in, her spoon disappeared. It was swallowed up by the gray, man eating blob from another realm.

Miranda glanced over at Jackson. She watched him as he put his spoon into the oatmeal. He put a comet shaped hunk into his mouth, and then he grimaced. Jackson mumbled a vulgarity and then he spit out the oatmeal hunk.

Miranda watched her fiancée as he grabbed a pear shaped saucer of milk. He was disappointed by the consistency of the white liquid. It couldn't penetrate the thick gray blob of oatmeal.

"What the heck am I doing?" Miranda asked herself. She dabbed the side of her mouth with a napkin and then she politely excused herself.

"Everything ok, Miranda?"

She tuned her fiancée out. Miranda saw a beautiful young woman in a black pants suit. The young lady looked at the world with an aire of confidence and passion. Miranda sighed, and then she put her hand to her heart.

The Roof:

Miranda was seventeen when she discovered her homosexuality. She was gangly and she was underdeveloped and she had straight brown hair that stopped at the small of her back. Her feet were flat and they ached when she walked a long distance.

Miranda remembered the sky, how dark it was. Everyone was screaming about rain and thunderstorms on the TV.

"Got a square?"

Miranda saw her. The young lady leaned her shoulder against the exit door of the roof and then she looked into the distance. Miranda marveled at the young lady's beauty. Her mascara really defined her eyes and her blond hair had a rather angelic sort of glow to it. The young lady's face came together rather perfectly, especially her cheekbones.

"She exhales beautifully," thought Miranda. She noticed the young lady's smoke rings. They were small and dainty and rather anonymous in stature. The young lady didn't puff like a schoolgirl. This discovery was rather significant. Miranda suddenly felt subconscious about her smoking habit.

"How old are you?" asked Miranda.

"I'm seventeen."

"You don't talk like a seventeen year old."

"Thank you," she laughed, inhaling a drag of her cigarette.

"The guys must love you," gushed Miranda, looking into the distance. Miranda inhaled a drag of her cigarette and then she watched the laundry on the clothesline. The wind tossed it one way and then another. Miranda wanted to be as beautiful as the young lady was.

"Next subject," laughed the young lady.

Miranda was aware of the sexual tension between them. Her brain began to scream. It said, "MIRANDA, YOU ARE NOT A LESBIAN!" Her subconscious reminded her of John Travolta and how much she wanted him when she was twelve.

"I AM NOT, A LESBIAN!" she told herself. She said it over and over and over again. After awhile, it became her mantra.

"Are you seeing anyone?" inquired Miranda. She watched the young lady's feet as they dangled over the side. The young lady's black dress shoes were shined to perfection.

"I'm think that I'm omni-sexual," proclaimed the young lady.

"Omni-sexual?" laughed Miranda. She watched the young lady as she flicked her cigarette butt away.

"It means that I don't love anyone." The young lady took a drag of her cigarette and then she pondered her next thought.

Miranda and the young lady looked at each other and then they looked away. They couldn't let the conversation lag. They had to avoid the silence at all costs.

"I'm Miranda. Miranda McMullen."

"Catherine. Catherine August."

A note to the reader. The young lady will now be referred to as Catherine August.

Catherine looked at Miranda and laughed. She tried to contain the smile that was forming on her lips.

"I find you attractive, Miranda. Is that wrong?"