Searching for Mr. Darcy

Scene Three

A cat meowed on the edges of Maisie's consciousness.  It wouldn't stop.  She wished someone would feed it or pick it up, but the meowing continued.  Then, suddenly, she recognized it.  Dashwood was the cat who wouldn't shut up.  She opened her eyes to find her cat inches from her face, complaining loudly.  "What is it, Dash?" she asked, reaching a hand out to stroke his head.  He deflected her gesture and leapt off the bed to paw angrily at the door.

She'd closed it in her drunken, sleepy stupor.  Completely unlike her - she never closed the door if Dashwood was in the room.  He was probably starving, or needing the litter box.  "Ugh!" she grumbled, forcing herself to sit up.  "I'm coming," she said to the cat.

Dashwood ran straight for his water bowl in the kitchen, where Talia was already up making coffee.  "Morning, sunshine."

Maisie yawned.  "Morning.  What time is it?"

"Nine-something."

"Damn, I haven't missed Mary Poppins's brunch."

Mary Poppins, real name Anabeth, was Maisie's older, annoyingly wonderful sister.  Practically perfect in every way, with her successful career as a heart surgeon at Duke, her charming husband Sean, and her two adorable children Sailor and Fisher.  Maisie loved her niece and nephew while simultaneously hating their names.  She'd tried to convince her sister to use Jane and Michael for the twins, but was unsuccessful.

The brunch was in honor of Maisie and Anabeth's mother, who was turning 55. A birthday was pretty much the only family occasion she couldn't excuse her way out of - she'd tried everything in her arsenal.

It's not that she didn't love her family, they were just a lot to take, and the feeling was mutual.  Her mother constantly complained that Maisie's career wasn't prestigious enough; having worked various part-time and minimum-wage jobs throughout the years to keep them all fed and clothed had convinced Momma Frampton that nothing short of 100k a year was good enough for her girls.  Maisie, who liked her job very much, thank you, never seemed to live up to those expectations.

Then there was the problem of her singledom.  At thirty, she was well past her prime, according to both her mother and sister, who refused to believe her when she claimed to be happy on her own.  And she was.  Very happy.  Sure, a boyfriend and regular sex would be nice, but she had enough friends to keep her social calendar full when she wanted it to be.  Plus, she knew how to change a tire and had no problem killing insects that got into her home.  What could a man do for her that she couldn't do for herself?

It certainly didn't help that Anabeth was a size two even after the twins and Maisie maintained a healthy size twelve.  She worked out and ate fairly decently, yet her mother constantly pushed crash diets and extreme exercise plans her way.  Momma Frampton just couldn't accept that Maisie felt fine in her own skin.

"Do you wanna come with me?" Maisie asked.  Talia handed her a cup of coffee and grimaced.

"I would, but I've got four missed calls from my dad.  He's not happy I skipped Temple.  I should probably go over and smooth things out."

Maisie offered her friend a commiserating frown.  Talia's big, Jewish family was great, but like any big family, had its issues.  Maisie often thought she'd happily trade her mother's constant disapproval for Talia's religious guilt, but knew it couldn't be easy on her.  

"Do you want to stay here again tonight?"

Talia mimed pulling her hair out.  "I guess I should head back to my apartment at some point."

"I've been telling you for months to ditch your awful, awful roommate."

"I'm working on it.  Mind if I take my coffee to go?"  Talia reached into the cupboard and pulled out a travel mug.  Maisie waved her hand, in a go-for-it gesture.  "Thanks.  Hope brunch doesn't suck too badly."

"Fingers crossed.  Good luck with your parents."

Dashwood trotted around the corner as Talia steered past the breakfast bar to side-hug Maisie on her way out.  Maisie locked the door behind her and finished her coffee, peering out the tiny, square window to watch her friend get in her car and drive off.  With a sigh, she put the mug in the dishwasher, then refilled Dashwood's food bowl.  After a quick shower and twenty minutes of grooming, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. She didn't want to arrive at brunch early, but at least if she did, it would give her mother one less thing to complain about.