For their first anniversary Edward got Miranda a pair of silk scarves, one of bold dark red, the other of soft serene white. “I couldn’t decide,” Edward told her.

“They’re both so beautiful,” Miranda said. She touched the fabric to her cheek. “Why don’t you light the candle and turn out the light?”

“But they’re not as silky as I thought they’d be,” Edward said. He struck a match. “Shouldn’t silk be silky? These are kind of rough.”

“Raw silk is rough,” Miranda said, pushing down her jeans and panties and stepping out of both. “Refined silk is more slippery.”

“Oh,” said Edward.

“But sometimes,” Miranda said. She let one scarf, the white one, flutter out, and it hung for a moment like a frail night cloud. “Sometimes I like it rough.”

“You do?” Edward said.

“A little rough,” Miranda said, and she whirled around, and the red scarf wrapped her spin. “See how these scarves excite me?” She laughed as the silk drifted across her breasts and down. “See how the silk makes my nipples all fat and stiff?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Edward said.

“Thank you for the beautiful scarves,” Miranda said. “You could use them to tie me to the bedpost.”

“Why would I do that?” Edward asked.

“So I wouldn’t get away?” Miranda teased. “So that you could have your way with me.”

“My way,” Edward repeated.

“And what way would that be?” Miranda asked.

“This way,” Edward said as he kissed her.

“This way,” Edward said as he fondled her.

“This way,” Edward said as he fucked her.

For their second anniversary Edward bought a pair of bicycles.

Miranda laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Edward wanted to know.

“These bicycles,” Miranda said. “They’re so ... so old-fashioned.”

“Maybe I’m old-fashioned,” Edward said.

“I like them, though,” Miranda said. “I like them much better than dueling pistols. The dark green, the shiny chrome, the plump, plush seats, and especially the fat, fat, really fat balloon tires.” She laughed again.

“I wanted something comfy,” Edward said.

“Let’s go riding,” Miranda said. “Let’s go riding right now.”

“You sure it’s not too late?”

They rode across town, all the way to the beginning of Buckchaser’s Preserve. They followed the paved path to the parking lot, and there they got off the bikes and walked down to the little stream that flowed from the hills. Edward and Miranda held hands as they watched pale clouds stretch across the twilight. The last of the day’s sunbeams played upon the gurgling stream.

“It’s so peaceful here,” Miranda said. “So perfectly, perfectly peaceful.”

“Mm,” said Edward, “but it’s almost dark. We should be heading back soon.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Miranda said. “I’m not used to this. My thighs are so achy.” She pulled down her pants.

“What are you doing?” Edward asked.

“Showing you my achy thighs,” Miranda said.

“Nice thighs,” Edward said, “but aren’t you afraid that...”

“Hush,” said Miranda. “Just knead me.”

“I do,” Edward said.

“No, knead me with your hands.”

“Where?” Edward asked. He knelt before her and touched his fingertips gently behind her knees.

“Higher,” Miranda said.

Edward moved his hands upward. He kneaded the muscles.

“Mm,” Miranda sighed. “That’s nice. More. Harder.”

Edward worked his fingers on Miranda’s firm flesh.

“On the inner part, too,” Miranda said.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Now higher.”

“Higher?”

“Yes.”

“How high?”

“All the way. Oh. Oh yes. There. There.”

The next year Edward bought Miranda a box of fine stationery. As soon as Miranda stepped into the apartment after work, Edward handed her the wrapped package.

“Too light for more bicycles,” Miranda said. “Too heavy for more scarves.” She shook the box and smiled and then undid the silver bow and removed the wrapping.

“It’s very nice,” Miranda said. “Is this the paper anniversary?”

“You’re disappointed?” Edward said.

“No,” Miranda said.

“There’s this to go with it.” He took the pen from his jacket’s inside pocket. “At the store I liked how smooth it felt. And how nice it flowed.” He handed the pen to Miranda.

“A nice weight,” Miranda said. “And good balance. Is it silver?”

“I think it might be pewter,” Edward said. “Why don’t you test it?”

“Okay,” Miranda said. She began to sit at the table in the dining area.

“No,” Edward said. “Not there.”

Miranda gave him a puzzled look. Edward took her hand and led her into the extra bedroom.

“Oh,” Miranda exclaimed. “A little writing desk. I love it!”

Edward smiled. “It’s mahogany. From the early twenties.”

“Like us,” Miranda said. “It’s beautiful. Look how the sunlight makes it gleam.”

“The velvet on the chair is new,” Edward said.

“And such a deep, dark red,” Miranda said. She smoothed her hand over the fabric. “It’s really nice.” She started to sit.

“Wait,” Edward said.

“Is there more?”

“No. I just thought maybe you should take your clothes off first. Before you sat.”

“That’s a good idea,” Miranda agreed. She took off her clothes.

“How does it feel?” Edward asked.

“Mmm,” Miranda said. “It feels ‘mmm.’”

“I’m going to take a picture of you, okay?” Edward said.

“A picture?”

“Of you sitting at the desk. Because you look so beautiful.”

“Okay,” Miranda said. “Should I pretend to be writing? What should I pretend to write?”

“Anything you want,” he said. He snapped the picture. He snapped several pictures. Miranda continued writing.

“Now touch yourself,” Edward said. “Touch yourself with the pen.”

“You’re so naughty,” Miranda said. But she brought the pen to her nipple. “Like this?” she asked.

“Mm,” Edward said. “Keep doing it.”

“It tickles.”

“It looks sexy.”

“Should I do the other one?” She didn’t wait for Edward to answer. The pen flicked the nipple from the underside up. “This is making me...”

“It looks so nice,” Edward said.

“I feel so...”

“You look so...”

“I just hope I don’t get the seat all...” The tip of the pen continued to circle the nipple.

“Touch lower now,” Edward said.

“Lower?” The pen moved down. It paused at the belly button. It dipped inside.

“Lower,” Edward said, snapping another picture.

The pen crept into Miranda’s snug thicket.

“Lower,” Edward said. “Touch it. Touch it now.”

“Oh, Edward,” Miranda said, touching the tip of the pen to the top of her clitoris. “Oh, Edward, I think I’m going to...”

“Do it,” Edward said.

Abruptly Miranda’s body jerked. “Oh, oh, oh,” Miranda moaned. The pen dropped. Miranda’s hands covered her mound.

“You’re so naughty,” Miranda said a few minutes later.

“I couldn’t help it,” Edward said. “I love you so much.”

“I couldn’t help it, either,” Miranda said. “Did you get me? Did you get me when I... ?”

“I think so,” Edward said. “You look so pretty when you’re...”

“I don’t know,” Miranda said.

“What don’t you know?”

“Whether I’m coming or going.”

“Huh?” Edward said.

“Whether I look pretty when I...”

“You do! You’ll see. When you look at the picture you’ll see.”

“I don’t know if I want to look at the picture.”

“I want you to,” Edward said.

“Why?”

“So you’ll know whether you’re coming or going. But first show me what you wrote on the new stationery.”

“I feel a little...”

“Please?”

Miranda showed Edward the sheet of paper.

Thank you for this desk. It is so nice. You are so nice. You are such a nice man. I love you. I love you so much. I am so so happy. I think my present for us is going to be a baby. I think it’s time. Would that be okay with you? It’s something I want. Really and truly. Only

The letter left off there.

Edward looked at Miranda. “Only what?” he asked.

Miranda laughed. “I was going to write, ‘Only when the baby comes this will be the nursery and where will we put my beautiful writing desk?’”

“I’m sure we’ll find a spot for it,” Edward said.

Miranda was soon pregnant. But four months later she lost the baby. Two weeks after that Edward lost his job. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he told Miranda. “That we lost the baby, I mean.”

“How can you say that?” Miranda asked. Her eyes were wide. And then she turned her back.

“Wait,” Edward said. “I was just thinking that ... I don’t know. We can try again. In two or three weeks. We can...”

“Maybe you’re right,” Miranda said. Edward moved so he could see her face. He saw her wipe a tear.

“No, really. We can try again,” Edward said. “It will work out. And I’ll probably find a new job soon. And even if I don’t...”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to be parents,” Miranda said. “Maybe we’re not really meant to...”

“To what?”

“To anything.”

“We are,” Edward said. “We are! We’re meant to everything.”

“I don’t know,” Miranda said. “I don’t want to think about it right now, okay?”

Summer was underway, and Edward’s job hunt had met with no success. He sent out resumes and went on several interviews, but the only offers he got were in distant cities, and Miranda was not about to give up her job. “Something around here is bound to turn up,” Miranda said, and she hugged Edward.

“Maybe I’m in the wrong field,” Edward said. “Or maybe I should take the offer in Pittsburgh. That’s not too too far, is it?”

Miranda didn’t say anything.

“Why’d you even let me go for the interview if you knew moving there was out of the question?”

Miranda remained silent.

“Maybe I could take it just for a while. Just to see?”

“If you want to,” Miranda said. “Suit yourself.”

“Don’t be that way,” Edward said.

“What way?” Miranda answered.

“You think I’m a failure,” Edward said.

“I don’t. I don’t think you’re a failure. You think you’re a failure.”

“If you’d had the baby you would have left your job, wouldn’t you? So why can’t we try Pittsburgh?”

“I don’t know if I would have left my job or not,” Miranda said. “I like my job. If you want to try Pittsburgh go right ahead.”

“You know I won’t do it without you.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I should.”

But he didn’t. He stayed home day after day and did the dishes. One mid morning as hot water streamed into the pots, Edward took care to add only a small squirt of liquid soap. He laughed at himself for his silly frugality and called Miranda at work to tell her. “Tonight I’m going to give you a bubble bath,” he said into her voice mail. “The way we used to. Mounds and mounds of silky bubbles.” He hung up the phone and set off on a bike ride. He pedaled across town to Buckchaser’s Preserve. He coasted down the lane towards the lower parking lot. The sun was high and bright, and the main part of the lot was empty, but around the corner were two cars parked nose to nose. One of them was Miranda’s car. Miranda was in it, sitting on the passenger side with her legs up on the dash, and there was a man standing just outside the car, talking to her and staring into the space between her thighs. Straddling his bike, Edward watched. Miranda shifted, and her legs opened wider. The skirt slipped higher. Then lower. Then it disappeared. Sun glinted off the roof of Miranda’s car and off the spokes of Edward’s bicycle as he pedaled home.

That night Edward was setting the table in the dining area. “Should I light the candles?” he asked Miranda.

“It you like,” Miranda said.

“It’s only left over spaghetti, but I thought...”

“Candles would be fine,” Miranda said. “But I need to take a shower now.”

“Was it a rough day at work?” Edward asked.

“It was okay,” Miranda said. “The usual. By the way, some of us are going camping next weekend. It’s kind of an office thing. A getaway.”

“Camping?” Edward said. “But we don’t even have a tent.”

“I’ll just share with someone.”

“You mean I’m not invited?”

“I told you, it’s an office thing.”

“But that’s over our anniversary.”

“I know,” Miranda said. “It wasn’t like I picked the date.”

“This is crazy,” Edward said. “Since when do you even like camping?”