Summer and the City

She wipes her cheek. “Even though he wasn’t really my type, I thought I was making progress. I told myself I was breaking the pattern.”

“At least you tried,” I say soothingly. “Especially since you don’t even like guys. When I met you, you didn’t want to have anything to do with them, remember? And it was cool. Because when you really think about it, guys are kind of a big waste of time.”

Miranda sniffs. “Maybe you’re right.” But in the next second, a fresh round of tears clouds her eyes. “I used to be strong. But then I was taken in by…” She struggles to find the words. “I was betrayed by… my own beliefs. I guess I thought I was tougher than I am. I thought I could spot a creep a mile away.”

A crack of lightning makes us both jump.

“Oh, sweetie.” I sigh. “When a guy wants to get you in bed, he’s always on his best behavior. On the other hand, he did want to be with you all the time. So he must have really been crazy about you.”

“Or maybe he was using me for my apartment. Because my apartment is bigger than his. And I don’t have any roommates. He had this one roommate, Tyler. Said he was always farting and calling everyone a ‘fag.’”

“But it doesn’t make sense. If he was using you for your apartment, why would he break up with you?”

“How should I know?” She pulls her knees to her chest. “Last night, when we were having sex, I should have known something was wrong. Because the sex was very… strange. Nice, but strange. He kept stroking my hair. And looking into my eyes with this sad expression. And then he said, ‘I want you to know that I care about you, Miranda Hobbes. I really do.’”

“He used your full name like that? ‘Miranda Hobbes’?”

“I thought it was romantic,” she snivels. “But this morning, after he’d finished showering, he came out holding his razor and shaving cream and asked me if I had a shopping bag.”

“What?”

“For his stuff.”

“Ouch.”

She nods dazedly. “I asked him why he wanted it. He said he realized it wasn’t going to work out between us and we shouldn’t waste each other’s time.”

My jaw drops. “Just like that?”

“He was so… clinical about it. Official. Like he was in court or something and I was being sentenced to jail. I didn’t know what to do, so I gave him the damn shopping bag. And it was from Saks. One of those big red expensive ones, too.”

I sit back on my heels. “Aw, sweetie. You can always get another shopping bag-”

“But I can’t get another Marty,” she wails. “It’s me, Carrie. There’s something wrong with me. I drive guys away.”

“Now listen. This has nothing to do with you. There’s something wrong with him . Maybe he was afraid you were going to dump him so he broke up with you first.”

She lifts her head. “Carrie. I ran down the street after him. Yelling. When he saw me coming, he started running. Into the subway. Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” I say. Given what happened to L’il, I’d believe just about anything right now.

She blows hard into a wad of toilet paper. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he does think I’m too good for him.” And just as I’m beginning to hope I’ve gotten through to her, a stubborn, closed look comes over her face. “If I could just see him. Explain. Maybe we can get back together.”

“No!” I yelp. “He’s already run away once. Even if you do get back together, he’ll do the same thing. It’s his pattern .”

She lowers the toilet paper and gives me a doubtful look. “How do you know?”

“Trust me.”

“Maybe I can change him.” She reaches for the phone, but I yank the cord before she can grab it.

“Miranda.” I clutch the phone in my arms. “If you call Marty, I will lose all respect for you.”

She glares. “If you do not hand over that phone, I will have a very hard time considering you a friend.”

“That stinks,” I say, grudgingly passing her the phone. “Putting a guy before your friends.”

“I’m not putting Marty before you. I’m trying to find out what happened.”

“You know what happened.”

“He owes me a proper explanation.”

I give up. She picks up the phone and frowns into the receiver. She presses down on the hook a few times, and looks at me accusingly. “You did this on purpose. Your phone’s out of order.”

“Really?” I ask in surprise. I take the phone from her and try it myself. Nothing. Not even air. “I’m pretty sure I used it this morning.”

“Maybe you didn’t pay the bill.”

“Maybe Samantha didn’t pay the bill. She went to LA.”

“Shhhh.” Miranda holds up a finger as her eyes dart around the room. “What do you hear?”

“Nothing?”

“That’s right. Nothing.” She jumps up and starts flipping switches. “The air conditioner’s off. And the lights aren’t working.”

We run to the window. The traffic on Seventh Avenue is in a snarl. Horns honk as several sirens go off at once. People are getting out of their cars, waving their arms and pointing at the traffic lights.

My eyes follow their gestures. The lights swaying over Seventh Avenue are dark.

I look uptown. Smoke is billowing from somewhere near the river.

“What’s happening?” I scream.

Miranda crosses her arms and gives me a tangled, triumphant smile. “It’s a blackout,” she declares.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Okay. Let me get this straight,” I say. “The lining from the uterus migrates to other parts of the body, and when you get your period, it bleeds?”

“And sometimes, you can’t get pregnant. Or if you do, the fetus can actually develop outside the uterus,” Miranda says, proudly displaying her knowledge.

“Like in your stomach?” I ask in horror.

She nods. “Or in your butt. My aunt had a friend who couldn’t poop. Turns out there was a baby growing in her lower intestine.”

“No!” I exclaim, and light another cigarette. I puff on it thoughtfully. The conversation is getting out of hand, but I’m enjoying the perversity. I figure it’s a special day-a day that’s outside of all other days and is therefore exempt from the normal rules.

The entire city is without power. The subways aren’t running and the streets are a mess. Our stairwell has been plunged into darkness. And there’s a hurricane outside. Which means Samantha, Miranda, and I are stuck. For the next few hours, anyway.

Samantha arrived unexpectedly minutes after the blackout began. There was a lot of shouting in the stairwell, and people coming out of their apartments to compare notes. Someone said the ancient telephone building was struck by lightning, while another resident claimed the storm knocked down the phone lines and all the air conditioners caused a power outage. Either way, there are no lights and no phone service. Enormous black clouds rolled over the city, turning the sky an eerie grayish green. The wind picked up and the sky flashed with lightning.

“It’s like Armageddon,” Miranda declared. “Someone is trying to tell us something.”

“Who?” Samantha asked with her usual sarcasm.

Miranda shrugged. “The Universe?”