Revenge Wears Prada (45 page)

Andy said nothing. Emily glanced at her and then became engrossed in the cuticles on her left hand before continuing. “Just think—with what we made from the sale, you can take some time off to be with Clem, travel, do some freelancing, start another project, write a book—whatever you want! The lawyers couldn’t get rid of that year clause, but they were willing to raise their purchase price
significantly.
And that year is going to fly by, Andy! I don’t have to tell you how quickly the last couple years have passed, do I? We’ll still both have our jobs, doing what we love for the magazine we built together. The only difference is we’ll be doing it in far nicer digs. Does that sound so terrible?”

“We won’t,” Andy whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Hmm?” Emily looked at her for the first time in minutes, as though just remembering Andy was there.

“I said we won’t be doing it in far nicer offices. Or any offices for that matter. I’m done. Finished. I told you yesterday and I meant it. I will announce my formal resignation this afternoon.” The words tumbled out before Andy could think them through, but once she’d said them, she felt no regret.

“Oh, but you can’t!” Emily said, the very first notes of panic creeping into her otherwise eerily calm and collected manner.

“Of course I can. I just did. Again.”

“But it’s in the sale agreement that our senior editorial team remain in place for one calendar year. If we don’t fulfill that end, they have the right to revoke the contract.”

“That really isn’t my problem, now, is it?” Andy asked.

“But we signed it, and we committed to the terms. If we renege on that point, all that money could vanish!”

“
We
signed it? Did you really just say that? You have an amazing capacity to rewrite history, Emily. Just incredible. Let me say this once: none of this is my problem, since I no longer work at
The Plunge
. I will take my percentage of the sale price if you can figure out how to work around the editorial clause. If not, you can buy me out according to the terms in our joint employment contract. I don’t really care which happens, just as long as I never see you again.”

Andy’s voice was shaking, and she was trying not to cry, but she forced herself to continue. “You can leave now. We’re finished.”

“Andy, just listen. If you would—”

“No more listening. That’s my decision. Those are my terms and honestly, I think they’re pretty generous. Now get out.”

“But I . . .” Emily looked stricken.

For the first time in nearly fifteen hours, Andy felt something resembling calm. It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t pleasant, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

“Now,” Andy said, the word sounding almost like a growl. Clem looked up at her, and Andy smiled at her daughter to let her know everything was okay.

Emily continued to sit, looking like she couldn’t comprehend what had happened, so Andy stood, scooped up Clementine, and walked back toward her bedroom.

“We’re going to take a shower now and get dressed. I expect
you’ll be gone by the time we come out,” she called over her shoulder, and she didn’t stop walking until she’d barricaded herself and Clem in the bathroom. A moment later she heard some shuffling as Emily cleaned up her coffee and gathered her things, and then the front door opened and closed. She listened carefully for any other sound and, hearing nothing, exhaled.

It was over. It was over for good.

one year later . . .

Andy watched from the dining room as her mother worked her way down the kitchen counter, unwrapping platters of fruit and crudités, cookies and bite-size wrap sandwiches, taking a few moments to rearrange the morsels prettily on each tray. In the last two days, people and platters had streamed through Andy’s childhood home in a near-constant flow, and although there were so many others who were willing to do it—friends, cousins, Jill, and of course, Andy—Mrs. Sachs insisted on doing all the shiva preparation herself. She claimed it took her mind off her mother, off the last few horrible months of home hospital beds and oxygen tanks and ever-increasing amounts of morphine. They were all relieved the old woman’s suffering was over, but Andy could barely believe her feisty, foul-mouthed grandmother was gone.

She was just about to join her mother in the kitchen when she saw Charles walk in, take a look around to make sure they were alone, and wrap her mother in a bear hug from behind. He whispered something in her ear and Andy smiled at the two of them. Her mother was right: Charles was a lovely man—kind, soft-spoken, sensitive, and affectionate—and Andy was thrilled they had found each other. They’d only been dating six months or so, but according to her mother, you didn’t need years to get to know someone in your sixties: it either worked or it didn’t, and this relationship had been smooth and easy from day one. Already they were talking about selling the Connecticut house and buying an apartment together in the city, and now that Andy’s grandmother no longer needed round-the-clock care, Andy imagined they’d move quickly.

“He seems great,” Jill said as she walked in the room and followed Andy’s gaze. She grabbed a carrot stick and began to chomp. “I’m really happy for her.”

“Me too. She’s been alone a long time. She deserves it.”

There was a beat of silence as Jill weighed whether or not to say what she was thinking and Andy mentally willed her not to. No such luck.

“You deserve someone too, you know.”

“Mom and Dad got divorced almost a decade ago. I’ve been . . .” Andy still couldn’t say
divorced
in relation to herself; it sounded too strange, too foreign. “Max and I have only been apart for a year. I have Clem and my work and all of you. I’m not in any rush.”

Jill poured two plastic cups of Diet Coke and handed one to Andy. “I’m not saying you should rush into anything. Just that it wouldn’t kill you to go out on a date. A little fun, nothing more.”

Andy laughed. “A date?” The word sounded so quaint, a throwback to a different lifetime. “My world is playdates and ear infections and twos-program applications and ballet-shoe fittings
and hiding vegetables in smoothies. I don’t know what a date would look like, but I’m guessing it wouldn’t include any of those things.”

“No, of course it wouldn’t. You might actually have to wear something other than yoga pants, and you’d definitely have to talk about something besides the benefits of Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies over conventional Goldfish, but news flash: you can do it. Your daughter spends two nights a week at her father’s, you’ve completely lost all your baby weight, and with a few hours invested in getting a decent haircut and maybe a dress or two, you could be right back out there. For Christ’s sake, Andy, you’re only thirty-four. Your life is hardly over.”

“Of course my life isn’t over. It’s just that I’m perfectly happy with the way things are. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

Jill sighed. “You sound just like Mom did all those years before she met Charles.”

Lily walked into the room, holding her frail grandmother’s arm and helping her into a seat. Jill handed Ruth a cup of Diet Coke, but her grandmother asked if she could have some decaf instead. Lily agreed, but Jill motioned for her to sit. “I was just on my way to brew a new pot. Sit and talk some sense into my sister. Andy and I were just discussing that it’s high time her nun days were over.”

“Wow,” Lily said, raising her eyebrows at Jill. “You actually went there.”

“Yeah, I did. If we can’t tell her, who can?”

Andy waved her hands as though trying to flag down a cab. “Hello? Does anyone realize I’m actually sitting right here?”

Jill left for the kitchen.

“Clem’s at Max’s this weekend?” Lily asked.

Andy nodded. “I dropped her off uptown on my way out of the city. She ran shrieking, ‘
Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!
’ the second the cab pulled up to the curb and she spotted him. Literally took off
and flew into his arms without so much as a glance backward.” Andy shook her head and smiled ruefully. “They know how to make you feel great.”

“Tell me about it. Yesterday when we took the boys into the city, Bear asked why a man was sleeping on the street. We tried to explain that’s why it’s important to go to school and study hard, so you can grow up and get a good job. Brainwashing the kid already, right? So Bear asks what Daddy does as a job, and we explain that he owns the yoga studio and teaches classes and teaches other teachers. So what does Bear say? ‘Well, when I grow up, I want to stay home and wear my pajamas all day, just like Mommy.’ ”

Andy laughed. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I have a BA from Brown, a master’s from Columbia, and I’m working toward a PhD, and my son thinks I watch Bravo all day long.”

“You’ll set him straight. One day.”

“Yeah, in all my free time.”

Andy looked at her friend. “Meaning?”

Lily diverted her eyes.

“Lily! Spill it.”

“Well, there are sort of two things I think you should know.”

“I’m waiting.”

“One is, I’m pregnant. The second is that Alex—”

“Mommy! Skye is pulling my hair and it hurts! He bit me! And he has a gross booger on his nose!” Bear materialized seemingly out of nowhere, shrieking a litany of complaints about his little brother, and it took all of Andy’s energy not to strangle him into silence. Lily was pregnant? That alone was near impossible to fathom, but Alex
what
? Was stopping by to give Andy his condolences? Had been diagnosed with something hideous and terminal? Had moved once and for all to Africa or the Middle East and was planning never to return? And then it hit her. The only obvious answer.

“He finally got married, didn’t he?” Andy said, shaking her head. “Of course, that’s it.”

Lily glanced at her, but Bear’s cries had escalated, and Skye had toddled in, also in tears.

“Not that I wouldn’t be happy for him under normal circumstances—I would—but I can’t stand the thought of him married to that lying, cheating bitch. What is it with the two of us? Some sort of weird, shared inexplicable draw to fall in love with people who hurt and betray us. Why is that? Alex and I had our problems, no doubt, but trust wasn’t one of them. Or does it really have nothing to do with us—it’s just that everyone cheats on everyone these days, it’s what the cool kids do, and any expectation otherwise is old-fashioned or unreasonable?” Andy took a deep breath and shook her head. “How old do I sound?”

“Andy—” Lily said, starting to speak, but Bear threw himself in her lap and almost knocked her off the chair.

“Mommy!
I want to go home!
”

Andy eyed Lily’s small but undeniable bump. She had so many questions, and yet her mind kept ricocheting back to Alex.

Bodhi appeared in the dining room and Lily practically threw both boys at him. She gave him the Look, the one with the laser-focused glare and the slightly raised eyebrows and the pinched mouth that said,
You’re on kid duty and yet here they are, screaming and snot-covered and yelling for me. Why can’t I have a conversation with my friend for ten uninterrupted minutes? Is that really too much to ask?
that every mother perfected within the first week of her firstborn’s life.

He gathered them up with promises of Hershey’s Kisses and sippy cups of milk, and for just a moment Andy missed Clementine. Being with her alone all week was difficult, and usually Andy loved Tuesday and Friday nights, when Clem was with Max, but seeing Lily’s and Jill’s boys made her want to hug her daughter close. She had been planning to stay in Connecticut that night and most of the next day, but maybe now she’d head back to the city first thing in the morning . . .

“I can barely believe you’re pregnant again! When did this happen? Was it planned?”

Lily laughed. “We weren’t trying, but we weren’t
not
trying.”

“Ah, my favorite.” Andy couldn’t help but invoke Olive. “Not not-trying is trying.”

“Well, regardless, we were pretty shocked. Skye and his sister will be eighteen months apart. I’m almost fifteen weeks already, but I was waiting to tell you until we knew the gender. A girl! Can you believe it?”

“I’m sure boys are great too—people swear they are—but there is nothing on earth as wonderful as a daughter. Nothing.”

Lily beamed.

Andy reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’m so happy for you guys. If someone would’ve looked into a crystal ball that year we lived together in New York and told you that one day you’d be married to a yoga instructor, living in Colorado with three kids who can ski before they walk, would you have ever believed them?” Andy didn’t say what else she was thinking: would she have ever believed she’d have founded, grown, and sold a successful magazine, gotten married and divorced, and learned how to be a single mom to an admittedly sweet and easy toddler, all by the time she was thirty-five? It was light years from what she’d expected.

“Alex. He’s not married, Andy. It’s just the opposite. He broke up with Sophie.” Lily shook her head. “Or she broke up with him, I’m really not sure how it went down, but they’re definitely not together.”

Andy leaned forward. “How do you know?”

“He called me when he was out west last week.”

“He
called
you?”

“Is that so weird? He had a week off work and was traveling through Denver on his way to ski with friends in Vail. I met him for coffee at a place near the airport.”

“Skiing with
friends
?”

“Andy! I didn’t ask for addresses and social security numbers of his entire group, but he made it clear that there wasn’t anyone along with whom he was romantically involved. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Andy waved. “Of course not. I’m just happy to hear, for his sake, that he’s not with
her.
How do you know they broke up?”

“He made it a point to tell me. Said he moved out about six months ago and lives in Park Slope now. Claimed he was dating around but wasn’t interested in anything serious. He was just very Alex, you know?”