"Mirror Universes"

a story by

Sabine Clement
(pierre@hhipe.uia.ac.be)

Side 1: Reflections on a Relationship

A lazy Sunday morning, 9:30 am

Niles is polishing the TV table - for the third time - watching a marathon re-run of Mr Belvedere.

Maggie's on the phone. "Really? Cool! And they're playing at what club? Ah-hah, yeah..."

Brighton walks in from the kitchen, cereal bowl in hand, and makes himself comfortable in the sofa, science fiction magazine against his pulled up knees.

Gracie is reading "The Mirror Image of Self". She sighs heavily and shakes her head.

Fran and Maxwell are in bed.

She's sound asleep, her head and hand resting on his chest, curled up in the curve of his arm. He wears a lazy, contented smile on his face, his eyes slowly wandering over the game of light and shadow projected on the ceiling. Playing absently minded with a long, dark, curly strand of hair. Feeling completely at ease.

Finally, Fran stirs. She stretches her arm and moans, then the sound abruptly stops. Wrinkles appear in her forehead and she opens one eye in wonder. Looks at the ceiling, then the eye moves the other way. Now both her eyes open wide in surprise. She gasps, looks up, and finds herself staring straight into the broad grin on Maxwell's face.

"Good morning!" he says cheerfully and kisses her.

Niles knocks on Maxwell's bedroom door. "Sir... Sir, are you all right? It's past 10 o'clock."

"Mmmh? Oh yes, old man, I'm perfectly all right. Never been better," the answer comes.

"Ah...?" Niles hesitates for a moment, then asks: "Shall I clear the breakfast table, Sir? I could bring you a tray, if you like."

"Er, no, that - that won't be necessary... I'm not hungry... for food."

Now Niles is getting really suspicious. "Er, sir, I was wondering. Miss Fine also seems to have missed breakfast. Would you happen to know where she is?"

"I most certainly do, old chap," comes the answer, followed by a soft giggle.

Niles presses his eyes closed, makes two fists and mouths a silent, but whole-heartedly "YES!" Then he continues talking, a sly smile on his face: "By the way, Miss Babcock called to say that she'll be late... (No, I must have misunderstood that...) Anyway, she's lost her broom and is without transport... "

Silence.

"... So she asks you to bring the rat whiskers and meet her under the dead oak at the cemetery..."

"Er, what? Oh - yes, yes, I'll be up in a minute."

"Hmmm - I'm sure you will..." Niles says under his breath, and turns around to leave.

Even later morning, the kitchen.

Fran descends the stairs towards the kitchen in a purple flowered robe.

"Good morning everyo - er, Niles!"

"Ye-ess, good day indeed."

"Aw, I'm still tired," she yawns.

"Didn't catch much sleep?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean... oh, I'm just tired - and you're not helping!" she replies, scratching her ear. She puts herself down at the kitchen table, leafing through a magazine.

"Hm-hmm. Have you seen Mr. Sheffield?"

"Seen, heard, felt - the whole sensor array went berserk," she says to herself, still not quite believing.

"Excuse me, what did you say?" Niles inquires.

"Me? Er, nothing, er... just reading something from Brighton's sci-fi mag here."

Maxwell bashes in through the door, fighting with his tie. "Ah, Fran, there you are..."

"Oops, red alert! Man all stations!" Niles comments, whilst putting foil over the cheese.

Maxwell looks at him suspiciously.

"All non-essential personnel, please clear the bridge," Niles continues and he leaves through the door.

Maxwell walks over to Fran, and she gets up. "Could you help me..." he asks, still fumbling with his tie.

"Sure, come over here." She pulls gently at his tie and draws him real close. He doesn't resist and kisses her. "There you go - Sir."

"Ah, what should I do without you..." All of a sudden, he scoops her up, in one fluent motion. "Or rather, what should I do with you," he says and looks at her with gleaming eyes.

Early evening, the living room

Fran's sitting in the sofa in the living room, polishing her nails. Maxwell comes in through the front door, soaking wet. Fran runs towards him and helps him out of his coat. He blows on his fingers and rubs his hands.

"Oh, it's freezing out there!"

"Here..." she says, and folds her arms around his back.

He mirrors the move and heaves a sigh of relief. "Yes, much better..."

He pulls away, looks her directly in the eyes. "Don't leave me alone tonight..." he says in a lowered voice.

"Scared of the tigers under your bed?" she teases.

He smiles anew, touches her nose and answers: "Nooo, but there may be one in bed..."

Next morning in Maxwell's office:

He's pacing up and down, while CC is trying to tell him the latest news on the backers. "And then we have George Harlington, who only wants to sign up when the play premieres in his soon-to-open theatre. Yeah right, like he can mess with our schedule - who does he think he is? Maybe you should talk to him, Maxwell, you know - go over a few memories of the old Empire together."

"Maxwell?"

"Uh - sorry?"

"Maxwell, I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're so restless."

He stops pacing and leans against his desk, looks down sideways and tries to wipe away some invisible spot on the surface.

"You can't concentrate, you're jumpy..."

A knock on the door makes Maxwell's head jerk up. Niles enters.

"Oh... It's you..." Maxwell sighs.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sir. Next time, I'll wear a tight, flowered skirt," Niles says.

CC pulls a face of disgust.

"What, no good?" (He slaps his hand against his forehead.) "Of course, you prefer leather."

CC decides to pay no attention and turns once more to Maxwell, who's started pacing up and down again. "Maxwell, please, listen to me. You're so agitated - you're impossible to work with. Whatever it is, you'd better do something about it..."

No response.

"Maxwell, I'm serious here..." CC goes on.

"...says the laughing stock," Niles finishes.

"Oh, go clean some dirt!" CC shouts at Niles in anger, upon which he sprays Lemon Pledge in her face. A split second later, she's at his throat.

"Oh, cut it out, you two!" Maxwell suddenly yells. "I've had it up to here! Always fighting, always arguing! Can't you just... just communicate normally?!!" and he sprints out of the door, leaving a perplexed CC and Niles behind.

"Man, is he tense..." CC comments.

"Mmm - probably lack of... communication," Niles answers.

Fran's sitting on her bed, talking on the cellular phone. "I'm tellin' ya, Val, you wouldn't recognize him. All of a sudden, he's a blazing fire. Like he's desperate to make up for all those past years... It's almost creepy, this kind of change - I don't really know what to make of it..."

"Fran? Fran, are you there?" Maxwell calls urgently across the landing.

"Oops, sorry Val, gotta go - duty calls."

A rapid series of knocks on the door.

"Fran - Fran!?"

She opens up. "What's wrong? The kids...?" she asks in wonder.

She's silenced by his kiss. "I missed you," he whispers and holds her tight.

"I see..." They kiss again.

"Maxwell!?" CC calls from down the stairs.

"Oh, what now?" he mumbles.

"MAXWELL? Harlington just called! He wants to see you right away, or the deal's off!"

He yells: "I'll be down in a second, CC!" and holds Fran anew.

"MAXWELL???!!!!"

He breaks away from Fran, reluctantly. Kisses her on her forehead. "Well, I better go then... But Fran..."

"Yes?"

"I was wondering, would you care to join me tonight?"

"Oh - are you a romantic or what! Where are we going?"

"Er - your room or mine?"

"...??"

"You're right, it doesn't matter," he says hurriedly and dashes off.

Fran watches him go and slowly wraps her arms around her - feeling oddly cold.

Maxwell runs down the stairs.

"Finally! What on earth took you so long?" CC asks, slightly annoyed.

"A little patience wouldn't hurt, CC. I told you I was coming," he says, equally annoyed.

"Hmmm, I'm sure you were..." Niles mumbles at the other side of the room.

Fran is lying on the chaise lounge in Maxwell's office. She needs some time alone, to try to put some order in the thoughts running through her. She wonders what could be the cause of the sudden change in Maxwell's behaviour. Sure, it was not entirely unpleasant, but the magnitude of his, er, emotions is almost too overwhelming. She'd always expected to find coals glowing under that reserved, British outer layer, although she had often feared she'd never prick through it after all. But now...

She shrugs, not entirely sure about the direction this was taking... Finally, fatigue won over her and she gave in, willingly.

"Fran, Fran..." Maxwell shakes her shoulders.

"Huh? Wha... what's goin' on?"

"You were sleeping..."

"Ow, yes, well - er, recharging the batteries, so to speak." She pulls herself upright, Maxwell sitting in front of her, one knee on the ground.

"How was lunch?" she asks.

"Quite all right, I suppose. We managed to close the deal with Harlington."

"Ah-ha."

"Yes, and this play's going to be a real success... " and he starts babbling away about this latest production. It all becomes one big blur of sounds to her, and she rubs her eyes, trying to fight of sleep.

"...Anyway, how was your day?"

"Aw, okay, I guess. Had a long conversation with Ma on the phone. Or rather, she had a long conversation with me. It appears Aunt Frieda..."

He lost attention right there, adding some nods and comments whenever it seemed appropriate.

"...and so everything's sorta back to normal."

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, smiles and kisses...

Some days later, the kitchen

Fran's sitting at the table, staring at the cup of tea between her two hands. Sylvia enters through the back door.

"Hello darling!"

"Hi Ma..."

"So he finally made his move, huh? Oh, I'm so thrilled! Wait until cousin Marsha hears about this! And Hannah, and Edith, and..." Then she notices her daughter's completely worn out, eyes dull, a look of despair on her face.

"Oy...."

"Wha?"

"What's wrong, honey, you look awful."

"It's nothing Ma, just tired."

"Ah-hah... ... "

"Frannie, you can't fool me..."

"Whadya sayin' Ma, I've never been happier," Fran replies and starts to cry.

"Oy... Sweetheart, come here..." Sylvia says, as she takes Fran in her arms.

"Oh, Ma, what's wrong with me?"

"You tell me sweetheart."

"I dunno... <sob> It's just..." and now she really starts crying her heart out.

"NOOOO - he didn't take it back, did he? Oh, when I get my hands on him..."

"No, no, that's not it, it's... well, he, he... Oh, he never takes me out, doesn't buy me roses.... He hardly pays attention to me..." she sobs. "And I mean to ME. Not to THIS!" and she indicates her short dress.

"Shhh... Darling, maybe you're going too fast here."

"Too fast? Ma, it's taken me over four years to reach this stage!"

"You're right. It took your father just a year to get there."

Maxwell is sitting in his office, churning the amber liquid around and around in his glass. The incessant clinging of ice cubes against crystal is the only sound in the room. A menacing, repetitive sound, becoming so dense you can hardly breathe.

Then suddenly, the glass is put down abruptly on the desk.

Oh, who was he kidding. Somehow, things didn't seem to work out the way he had wanted them to be. Sure, she looks beautiful..., well, stunning..., okay, incredibly sexy. Sure, she's sweet. Well, naive... okay, ignorant... And somehow, well, somehow it would just be nice to have someone to talk to really. Someone who understands your personal interests from inside out. Someone to discuss your work with... Is that too much to ask for? Why does he feel like something's missing? Oh, why is life so complicated?

Fran finishes brushing her teeth and spits the water in the sink. She looks up, checking her image in the mirror. She looks depressed. Tries to flash her smile, but gives up after two half-hearted efforts and sighs. She picks her things, puts them in her toilet bag and starts to leave. Just as she wants to open the door, Maxwell enters. They both freeze instantly.

"Uh..."

"Ah..."

"Er, I was just on my way out..."

"That's okay," Maxwell smiles weakly. "I'll be seeing you shortly, I suppose."

"Well... To be honest, I'm er... I'm really tired... Maybe I should, we-eell, spend the night in my own room - ya know, just for this once..."

"Yes. Right... I see..."

"Please, don't take it personal..."

"No... No, I won't. I don't."

"Good, good..."

"So..."

"Well, goodnight then, Mister Sheffield."

"Goodnight-Miss Fine..."

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