miranda and james, s1 sex scene of loneliness, grief, anger, and punishment:
(’cause @allez-argeiphontes and @ainedubh asked)
i will preface this by saying I am not wading into The Great Flint Sexuality Debate. I’m not out to convince anyone, no one is going to convince me, I cannot stress how much I do not want to get into it. This whole post is going to operating under the assumption that Flint is gray ace and/or bi and is, in fact, capable of experiencing romantic and/or sexual attraction to both men and women under whatever circumstances work for him.
that all said:
Here are my general assumptions about James and Miranda: 1) they tend to tell the truth most of the time, perhaps not when/how people expect but the actual incidences of outright falsehoods are relatively low, 2) they love each other deeply and are devoted to each other in ways that are terrifyingly thorough, but not necessarily healthy, and 3) they would never outright hurt each other, which leaves these two furious, frustrated, aggressive people an outlet of each other subject to the degree of their control (and sometimes passive aggression.) And I think that normally this all keeps them on a pretty even keel, but when they get going, no one is going to be able to hurt them like they can hurt each other.
I think one of the most interesting things about this scene is that it is part of three connected scenes: 1) miranda reading to richard guthrie from that copy of Meditations, 2) the sex scene, and 3) the argument they have afterwards and I think that you have to read all three scenes together because they inform and expand on one another. Very specifically, I don’t think you can (or should) read the sex scene outside the context of Miranda reading from Meditations, because that’s the crux of why james is angry at her. That sex scene is his petty ass having an argument with her, not an expression of disinterest. It’s a punishment where he is denying her the human connection with him that she wants by not engaging with her. She even calls him out on it afterwards, when she says that if he is angry at her, she wants him to just tell her.
And then they do talk about it: he’s angry because she read to him from Meditations and if you think Miranda Barlow can’t also be pretty aggressive about the ways she punishes James, that she didn’t choose that book at that time to share with the unwanted and unexpected guest he dropped into her home after telling her he was leaving again after months of being away, that she didn’t set out to remind him that no, Thomas was not just his, that Thomas and Miranda shared a life and interests and books, that he isn’t the only one hurting and alone and bereft, then IDK what to tell you. Meditations was her opening salvo, sex was his return fire, and then they actually have the argument with words once they realize they fucked up and hurt each other and regretted it.
And like, this is an actual fight they’re having. She knows it when he opens the door ominously and she just closes the book and doesn’t say a word and goes to the room; he knows it when he comes back from the vote about how to go about beaching the Walrus; they are engaging with each other even while they’re angry. And the aftermath of it all is the realization on both their parts that all they’re doing is hurting each other in the places where they are the most vulnerable and not solving anything which is when they shift to actually talking. Like, look at the way his hands come up and hover over her skin or the way she calls him out with “if you’re angry with me just tell me” or the way she takes Meditations with her when she wasn’t originally planning to. That the resolution between them is her saying, I know you feel the same way I do and you don’t want to lose the thing we (all) had and him saying things will get better (hint: they don’t).
I mean, hell, just look at the context of the sex scene itself. James rode out to the shore for the vote, rides back from the shore to the interior to do whatever it is he thinks he needs to and one of the things that he does is Miranda. He didn’t have to. That is a choice he made. He could literally have accomplished the same thing by not coming back, but he does it anyway. They are having sex in broad daylight while Richard Guthrie awkwardly lies in the other room listening to that headboard bang in the most hilariously mutual claiming of ownership possible. The levels of passive aggression in that few minutes alone is off the charts. There is nothing about that scene that is anything but James Flint making a point at Richard Guthrie and also having an argument with Miranda with his body, which is is preferred method of having fights.
Also lovely? The conflation of reading (very specifically of reading Meditations) with intimacy of a sort that James (and/or Miranda) feels the need to show off while repudiating. The way that James and the Hamiltons use literature and reading to be intimate with people, it’s a method of connection and sensuality that they can express to one another in public. They do it with the bible verses, they do it with Meditations, they do it by sharing books, they do it with quotes.
Basically they’re a big fucking mess and doing their best to hurt each other and regretting that hurt because they’re all they have. And I love them and I love that scene for all its terrible sad/angry awkwardness and I love that they both realize they’re not doing anything but hurting each other because they’re hurting. Everything about it is 10 years of marriage and codependence and deep, abiding painful love.