The Devil Wears Prada (49 page)

 “Yes,
well, apparently at some point that night I called him from Au Bar and begged
him to come meet me,” she said, avoiding eye contact, instead concentrating
intently on using the remote control to switch tracks on the mournful Jeff
Buckley CD that seemed to be on permanent replay in the apartment.

 “So?
Did he come and see you talking to, uh, to someone else?” I was trying
not to push her away even more by being critical of her. There was obviously a
lot going on inside her head, what with the problems at school and the drinking
and the seemingly limitless supply of guys, and I wanted her to open up to
someone. She’d never kept anything from me before, if for no other reason
than I was all she had, but she hadn’t been telling me much of anything
lately. It occurred to me how strange it was that we hadn’t bothered to
discuss this until four months after the fact.

 “No,
not quite,” she said bitterly. “He came all the way there from
Morningside Heights only to find me not there. Apparently he called my cell
phone and Kenny answered and wasn’t all that nice.”

 “Kenny?”

 “Thatthing
I dragged home at the beginning of the summer, remember?” She said it sarcastically,
but this time she smiled.

 “Ah-hah.
I’m guessing Freudian Boy didn’t take that well?”

 “Not
so much. Whatever. Easy come, easy go, right?” She scampered off to the
kitchen with her empty glass and I saw her pour from a half-full bottle of Ketel
One. A very small splash of soda, and she was back on the couch.

 I was
just about to inquire as gently as possible why she was inhaling vodka when she
had an article due the next day, but the buzzer rang from downstairs.

 “Who’s
there?” I called to John by holding down the button.

 “Mr.
Fineman is here to see Ms. Sachs,” he announced formally, all business
now that other people were around.

 “Really?
Um, great. Send him up.”

 Lily
looked at me and raised her eyebrows, and I realized that once again we
weren’t going to have this conversation. “You look psyched,”
she said with obvious sarcasm. “Not exactly thrilled that your boyfriend
is surprising you, are you?”

 “Of
course I am,” I said defensively, and we both knew I was lying. Things
with Alex had been strained the past few weeks. Really strained. We went
through all the motions of being together and we did it well: after almost four
years, we certainly knew what the other wanted to hear or needed to do. But
he’d compensated for all the time I spent at work by being even more
angelic at school—volunteering to coach, tutor, mentor, and chair just
about every activity someone could think up—and the time we did actually
see each other was about as exciting as if we’d been married for thirty years.
We had an unspoken understanding that we’d just wait things out until my
year of servitude was over, but I wouldn’t let myself think about where
the relationship might be headed then.

 But
still. That made two close people in my life—first Jill (who’d
called me out on the miserable state of affairs on the phone the other night),
and now Lily—who’d pointed out that Alex and I were less than
adorable together lately, and I had to admit that Lily had, in her buzzed but
nonetheless perceptive way, noticed that I was not happy to hear that Alex had
arrived. I was dreading telling him that I had to go to Europe, dreading the
inevitable fight that would ensue, a fight I very much would have liked to put
off for a few more days. Ideally, not until I was in Europe. But no such luck,
as he was currently knocking on my door.

 “Hi!”
I said a bit too enthusiastically as I pulled open the door and threw my arms
around his neck. “What a great surprise!”

 “You
don’t mind that I just stopped by, do you? I met Max for a drink right
around the corner and I thought I’d say hi.”

 “Of
course I don’t mind, silly! I’m thrilled. Come in, come in.”
I knew I sounded positively manic, but any armchair shrink could easily point
out that my outward enthusiasm was meant to overcompensate for all that was
lacking inwardly.

 He
grabbed a beer and kissed Lily on the cheek and settled into the bright orange
armchair my parents had saved from the seventies, just knowing that one day
they could bestow it proudly on one of their offspring. “So, what’s
going on here?” he asked, nodding toward the stereo, where a positively
heart-wrenching version of “Hallelujah” was blaring.

 Lily
shrugged. “Procrastinating. What else?”

 “Well,
I have some news,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic to convince both
myself and Alex that this was, in fact, a positive development. He’d been
so excited about arranging all the plans for our homecoming weekend—and
I’d been so pushy in getting him to do it—that it seemed downright
cruel to be canceling on him less than a week and a half before we were going.
We’d spent an entire night figuring out whom we wanted to invite to our
big Sunday brunch, and even knew exactly where and with whom we’d be
tailgating before the Brown–Dartmouth game on Saturday.

 They
both looked at me, not a little warily, until Alex finally managed,
“Yeah? What’s up?”

 “Well!
I just got the call—I’m going to Paris for a week!” I said
this with the exuberance of telling an infertile couple that they were having
twins.

 “You’re
going where?” Lily asked, looking puzzled and distracted, not entirely
interested.

 “You’re
goingwhy ?” Alex asked at the exact same moment, looking about as pleased
as if I’d just announced that I had tested positive for syphilis.

 “Emily
just found out she has mono, and Miranda wants me to accompany her to the
shows. Isn’t that awesome?” I said, a chipper smile on my face.
This was exhausting. I was dreading having to go myself, but it made it ten
times worse to have to convince him that it was actually a really great
opportunity.

 “I
don’t understand. Doesn’t she go to the shows like a thousand times
a year?” he asked. I nodded. “So why does she all of a sudden need
you to go with her now?”

 Lily had
tuned out at this point and seemed to be engrossed in flipping through an old
issue ofThe New Yorker . I’d saved every copy from the past five years.

 “She
throws this massive party at the spring shows in Paris and just likes to have
one of her American assistants be there. She’ll go to Milan first and
then we’ll meet in Paris. To, you know, oversee everything.”

 “And
that American assistant has to be you, and it has to mean you’ll be
missing homecoming,” he said flatly.

 “Well,
it’s not normally the way it works. Since it’s considered a huge
privilege, usually the senior assistant is the only one who gets to go, but
since Emily is sick, then, yes, now I will be going. I have to leave next
Tuesday, so I can’t go to Providence that weekend. I’m really,
really sorry.” I moved off my chair and went to sit closer to him on the
couch, but he immediately stiffened.

 “So
it’s just that simple, right? You know, I already paid for the entire
room to guarantee the rate. Never mind the fact thatI rearrangedmy whole
schedule to go with you that weekend. I told my mom she had to find a sitter
becauseyou wanted to go. Not a big deal, though, right? Just anotherRunway
obligation.” In all the years we’d spent together, I’d never
seen him so angry. Even Lily looked up from her magazine long enough to excuse
herself and get the hell out of the room before this turned into an all-out
war.

 I tried
to curl up on his lap, but he crossed his legs and waved his hand.
“Seriously, Andrea—” He called me that only when he was
really annoyed. “Is all of this really worth it? Be honest with me for a
second. Is it worth it to you?”

 “All
of what? Is missing a homecoming weekend when there will be dozens more worth
it to do something I’m required to do for my job? A job that is going to
open doors for me I never thought possible, and sooner than I ever expected?
Yes! It’s worth it.”

 His chin
dropped to his chest and for a moment I thought he was crying, but when he
lifted it again, his face revealed nothing but rage.

 “Don’t
you think I’d rather go with you than go be someone’s slave
twenty-four-seven for a straight week?” I shouted, forgetting entirely
that Lily was somewhere in the apartment. “Can’t you stop for one
second to think about the fact that I may not want to go either, but I have no
choice?”

 “No
choice? You have nothingbut choices! Andy, this job isn’t just a job
anymore, in case you’ve failed to notice—it’s taken over your
entire life!” he yelled back, the redness in his face expanding to his
neck and ears. Normally I thought this was very cute, even sexy, but tonight I
just wanted to go to sleep.

 “Alex,
listen, I know—”

 “No,you
listen! Forget about me for a second, not like that’s such a stretch, but
forget that we never, ever see each other anymore because of the hours you keep
at work, because of your never-ending work emergencies. What about your
parents? When was the last time you actually saw them? And your sister? You do
realize that she just had her first baby and you haven’t even seen your
own nephew yet, don’t you? Doesn’t that mean anything?” He
lowered his voice and leaned in closer. I thought he might be getting ready to
apologize, but he said, “What about Lily? Have you not noticed that your
best friend has turned into a raging alcoholic?” I must have looked
absolutely shocked, because he barreled on. “You can’t even think
of saying you didn’t realize that, Andy. It’s the most obvious
thing in the world.”

 “Yes,
of course she drinks. So do you and so do I and so does everyone we know.
Lily’s a student, and that’s what students do, Alex. What’s
so weird about that?” It sounded even more pathetic when I said it out
loud, and he only shook his head. We were both quiet for a few minutes until he
spoke.

 “You
just don’t get it, Andy. I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but
I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. I think we need a
break.”

 “What?
What are you saying? You want to break up?” I asked, realizing much too
late that he was very, very serious. Alex was so understanding, so sweet, so
available, that I’d begun to take for granted that he’d always be
around to listen or talk me down after a long day or cheer me up when everyone
else had felt free to take a swing. The only problem with all of this was that
I wasn’t exactly holding up my end of the deal.

 “No,
not at all. Not break up, just take a break. I think it would help both of us
if we reevaluate what we’ve got going here. You sure don’t seem
happy with me lately, and I can’t say I’m thrilled with you. Maybe
a little time away would be good for both of us.”

 “Good
for both of us? You think it’ll ‘help us’?” I wanted to
scream at the triteness of his words, at the idea that “taking some
time” would actually help draw us closer. It seemed selfish that he was
doing this now, just as I was going into what I hoped was the last of my
one-yearRunway sentence and mere days before I had to pull off the biggest
challenge of my career. Any quick jabs of sadness or concern from a few minutes
ago had been swiftly replaced with irritation. “Fine, then. Let’s
‘take a break,’ ” I said sarcastically, meanly. “A
breather. Sounds like a great plan.”

 He
stared at me with those big brown eyes with a look of overwhelming surprise and
hurt, and then pressed them tightly shut in an apparent effort to push away the
image of my face. “OK, Andy. I’ll put you out of your obvious
misery and leave now. I hope you have a great time in Paris, I really do.
I’ll talk to you soon.” And before I even realized that it was
actually happening, he’d kissed me on the cheek like he would Lily or my
mother and walked toward the door.

 “Alex,
don’t you think we should talk about this?” I said, trying to keep
my voice calm, wondering if he would actually walk out right now.

 He
turned and smiled sadly and said, “Let’s not talk any more tonight,
Andy. We should’ve been talking the past few months, the pastyear, not
trying to cram it all in right now. Think about everything, OK? I’ll call
you in a couple weeks, when you’re back and settled. And good luck in
Paris—I know you’ll be great.” He opened the door, stepped
through it, and quietly closed it behind him.