54. It's Been A Long Time Coming

I fasten long, silver hoops to dangle from my ears then take a step back, doing one last scan of myself in the mirror. 

My hair falls in waves, pinned away from my face by twinkling rhinestone clips, showcasing my carefully applied makeup. A red lip, of course, sparkly silver eyeshadow behind the longest lashes I could manage without looking like a clown, and my favorite part - shimmering highlighter. 

I grin as the bathroom lights hit my cheekbones, setting off a cascade of sparkles. After all, the whole point of the ensemble is to sparkle. 

My gaze trails down, and I absently run a finger over the delicate chains around my neck. They contrast well with the satin bomber jacket, sleeves painstakingly and casually rolled up a few times. And of course, the star of the show is the silver, spaghetti strapped, sequined slip dress that stops mid thigh. 

I turn on my sparkly, yet comfortable wedges to peer at the dress from the back. The last thing I need is my entire ass hanging out. 

Nope! I’m safe. Phew. I really don’t feel like scrambling into my backup outfit. 

Throwing my phone and wallet into a clear bag, I head for Cassidy and Caroline’s room. 

“Girls?” I rap my knuckles on the doorframe. “Need any help? The car will be here in a couple minutes.”

The door flies open and suddenly I’m being dragged into the room. 

It looks like a tornado of purple and glitter went through here. 

“You’ve gotta take a picture of us!” Caroline shoves a pastel purple Polaroid camera into my hands. She scrambles back to pose next to Cassidy, their arms linked together, opposite hands on their hips. 

I lift the camera to my face, grinning. I have to fiddle for a second to get them in focus in the frame, and boy are they a sight. 

Cassidy is rocking a dark purple skater dress with a funky, purposely jagged hemline. A glittery, purple tiara catches the light and makes what could’ve been a boring ponytail into a statement, but my favorite part has to be her shoes. They’re classic white converse, but the girls have obviously had a lot of fun doodling all over them in purple sharpie marker. There’s a castle, and clouds, and even a sword-wielding princess riding a dragon through the skies. 

Caroline matches her sister’s purple theme, but that’s where the similarities end. Her dress is made of lavender tulle, with matching ballet flats. Her hair is in soft, elegant waves, and I make a note to myself to ask how she managed them. 

Both girls have friendship bracelets nearly up to their elbows. It’s gotta be a wonder they can feel their fingers, but they’re grinning so widely, I doubt a lack of circulation could bring their spirits down. 

“Ok,” I say, holding the camera steady. “Say ‘Speak Now’ on three. One, two, three!”

“Speak Now!” The girls say in unison, and I snap the photo. Caroline takes the camera back as soon as the Polaroid prints out. She carefully places the photo in a drawer. 

“I can’t wait to see how it turns out!” She squeals, bouncing on her toes. “But I don’t wanna wait. Are you ready, Andy? Can we go now?”

“Yes,” I chuckle, holding the door for them. “Let’s go find your mom, and the car should be here any minute.”

We make our way to the foyer, the girls playfully teasing each other and making bets about which outfits Taylor is going to wear tonight. 

“What are you, Mom?” Cassidy asks, skipping over to the woman by the door. 

I pause in the doorway, taking in the sight. Miranda is stunning, of course, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but a blood red pantsuit with gold jewelry accents isn’t it. She’s adjusting the gold watch on her wrist when we come in, but looks up at Cassidy’s question. 

“Hmm? Oh Bobbsyes, look at you. Come, give me a twirl.”

The girls giggle and do as she says, their spinning quickly turning into dancing. They’re adorable, but my attention is stuck on Miranda, watching them with the most content smile I’ve ever seen from her. 

Finally, the spinning and dancing stops, and Cassidy, a little breathless now, asks again,

“What song are you dressed up as, Mom?”

Miranda’s lips quirk up into a mischievous smile, and she looks between all of us, the pause full of drama. Adjusting a gold cufflink at her wrist, she says, 

“I’m The Man.”

My grin somehow stretches even wider. 

That she is. 

***

My god. The woman can put on a show. 

My throat is raw from singing and screaming, my hands hurt from clapping, and my cheeks ache from smiling. The pain is worth it. 

The girls have been dancing and singing, having the time of their lives. Even Miranda, definitely the most subdued of all of us, has been bopping her head, her twinkling eyes giving away her enjoyment. 

I grab my bottle of water from my seat’s cupholder as Taylor leaves the stage after I Can Do It With A Broken Heart. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually here!” Caroline gushes. “I feel like I’m in a dream!”

“Me, too!” Cassidy grabs Caroline’s hand, and they start squealing and jumping. 

I catch Miranda’s eyes, and we grin at each other. After so many months of pain and heartache with the custody battle being dragged on and on, it’s so good to see the girls so unabashedly happy. 

“They’re having a great time,” I say to Miranda. She nods. 

“I have no idea how I’ll top it next year.” She rolls her eyes to the sky, searching for an answer in the stars. 

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I chuckle. “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Miranda meets my gaze again, her eyes softer now. 

“I do have help,” she says. “Don’t think I don’t see exactly how much you do, Andrea.”

I open my mouth to say something, though I don’t know what, but the roar of the crowd heralds Taylor’s return to the stage. Everyone is hanging onto her every word, and then she starts strumming her guitar. 

“Now pretty baby, I’m running back home to you.”

I gasp, my hand going to my chest. 

“Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to.”

God. I love this song, but it hits different standing here next to the woman I’ll never have. Tears prick my eyes, but I sing along. 

“Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday.”

You are in love, I think. Well … yeah. 

“You can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out.”

A barrage of memories flashes through my mind. Every quiet moment, every late night, every touch. God, I really am a goner. 

The tears run a little faster down my cheeks, and I try to discreetly wipe them away. I can see Miranda turn toward me from the corner of my eye, and I know I’m not successful. 

“And so it goes. You two are dancing in a snow globe, ‘round and ‘round. And he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown. And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars, and why I’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words.”

I need the song to end. It’s beautiful, and amazing, but the ache is too much. The picture she paints, of running toward a star crossed love, knowing with certainty that it’s right, and finally getting to embrace it. I want it so badly. With her. 

I rub my heart, the place where the hope that just won’t die already twists and writhes in agony. 

God. Standing here, not even a foot away from Miranda, I’ve never felt more separated. 

Finally, the song ends, and we all clap while Taylor makes her way to the piano. I glance at Miranda, and she’s still watching me. There’s this expression on her face, a mix of confusion and concern, and my heart breaks a little more. 

“I’m fine,” I say through a watery smile, waving her off. 

She raises an imperious eyebrow, like she doesn’t believe me, but I ignore it, turning back to the stage instead. After a moment, she does, too, just in time for Taylor to mess up the first note of her song. 

“Sometimes you just don’t hit the right note, do you?” 

The brief levity is a welcome change from my turbulent storm of emotions. 

“How’s one to know? I’d meet you where the spirit meets the bones in a faith forgotten land. In from the snow, your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand.”

Oh great. Ivy. I suck in a breath to hopefully keep the waterworks at bay. It’s five minutes, top. I can handle another song about desperate, impossible longing for five minutes, right? 

“Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland. My house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

I can’t hold back my sniffle. I guess that answers that. 

There’s a light touch on my arm, and I look up to see Miranda focused on me again. I force a smile onto my face, and mouth, “I’m fine,” again. 

She tilts her head, her eyes locked onto mine, as if she can see every thought and feeling flying through me. Then, that hand on my arm travels lower until her fingers are wrapping around my own. She squeezes, and I just look back, dumbstruck, before squeezing back. 

I’m not sure if the contact makes the storm of pain inside me better or worse. 

“So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to.”

I try to focus on the music, rather than the lyrics. The way Taylor plays the piano with such passion, how she seems genuinely happy, how the crowd sings along with every word, no doubt keeping the entire city of Munich awake. If I don’t think about the words, it’s almost bearable. 

“I want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck, chain ‘round my neck, not because he owns me … but ‘cause he really knows me. Which is more than they can say.”

Miranda’s hand jerks in mine, and my eyes fly to her. 

She’s staring down at the stage, looking for all the world as if she’s just enjoying the music, but her nostrils are flared. Her eyes are wide, but from this angle I can’t see more than that. 

I squeeze Miranda’s hand, like she did for me, and when her eyes meet mine again, they’re no longer wide. No, they’re tense, almost squinted with what might be determination. 

“I recall late November, holdin’ my breath, slowly I said, You don’t need to save me …”

Miranda takes a small step closer to me, so our sides are touching. Her hand moves from holding mine, to pressing against the small of my back, her eyes holding mine the entire time. 

“But would you run away with me?”

Her eyebrow lifts in question, and the world falls out from under my feet. I don’t have time to think about what I’m doing, or where we are, or how this could possibly be happening, or whether I’m reading way too much into things. 

I break out into a wobbly smile, barely hanging onto my composure.

“Yes,” Taylor and I say at the same time. 

Miranda answers my smile with one of her own, and dear god, it’s the most unguarded smile I’ve ever seen from her. It’s bright, and relaxed, like a weight has finally been lifted from her shoulders. 

She lifts the hand on my back to cradle my cheek, and wipes away one of my tears with her thumb. 

“Is this real?” I mouth, feeling starstruck. 

Her smile widens just the tiniest bit, and she dips her head ever so slightly. It’s so Miranda; an answer in the most minute details. 

She puts her hand back on the small of my back and turns us both so we’re watching the performance again. I can’t say I’m really processing anything at this point. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I’m going to wake up and realize this has all been a dream. I mean, it has to be. 

This can’t be real. 

Right? 

“So yeah, it’s a fire. It’s a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it. You started it. So yeah, it’s a war. It’s the goddamn fight of my life, and you started it.”

Miranda leans toward me, her lips almost pressed against my ear, and I can barely make out what she says over the roar of the crowd. 

“You started it.”

Maybe it’s the shock, but it startles a laugh out of me. Goddamn, playful Miranda might just be my favorite. 

This might be a dream. It might all come crashing down as soon as the song ends, but for now … 

I slide my arm around Miranda’s waist, letting myself have this moment, this fantasy, even if just for a moment. 

The swipe of Miranda’s thumb against the small of my back lets me know I’ve made the right choice. Good thing, too, since it’s the choice I’ve been dying to make all year. 

Standing there, arms around each other, surrounded by thousands, while the girls sing and dance, I can see the future I want so clearly. And if Miranda wants it half as much as I do, I know we can make it work. 

She’s trained me to do the impossible, after all.