Patience - Chapter 6
Patience 006.
Author Notes: Sorry for the short chapter. Life kicked me down to the bottom since a half year ago, apparently, Life too want to tell me that wasn’t the real bottom and let me keep falling down… and not sure when I will stop. Anyways, off with the depressing matter of my life, but it will give a significant amount of effect to this chapter. Hopefully, it will not continue for long. But I will keep posting as I hate to left everything in the middle, it just be a short-chapter and… well, rather depressing.
Special thanks for my two betas: ea_phoenix (Liz) & lotty-anna (L.W)
Andy left the hospital a week later with a dislocated shoulder and fractures to her hand. They were small, but each time she tried to move her fingers it hurt like a bitch. Luckily, she still had use of her left hand, which allowed her to type - even if she couldn’t write - and interviews to be conducted with the use of a recorder. She had already talked to her boss, Greg, who was kind enough let her continue doing her job despite her limitations.
The real problem was the accident had destroyed her phone, seriously reducing her effectiveness while out of the office. So, on top of rent and her prescriptions, she now had to replace her cellphone as well. The only thing keeping her from falling too far into the red this month was that all her hospital expenses had been paid for by Miranda.
Seated on her worn-out couch Andy released a tired sigh. Speaking of her former boss, Andy wasn’t sure what to think about this seemingly altruistic gesture. She was positive Miranda was unaware of her feelings towards the older woman and would never return them. Why then, was she so kind to someone who had betrayed her?
Miranda…
The Editor had been gone by the time Andy had woken up the second time. She never had come back again after her visit and only Nigel had made the effort to come and see how she was doing. Andy didn’t mind… much, but it still hurt. A small part of her had wished Miranda would walk back through the door of her hospital room wearing her expensive clothes and surrounded by her equally expensive perfume, acting as if she owned the entire hospital just like she always did at Runway. Somehow, that was not something too difficult for Andy to imagine.
Bringing a mug of now lukewarm tea to her lips, Andy took a small sip. She had just finished showering and had ordered Chinese takeout for dinner. Looking at the clock on the shelf next to her television, Andy realized she should be working on her interview; however, she could not shake herself out of the continuous daydream about her former boss.
Nigel was hopeless. After the accident, he began acting like she was made of glass - fragile - and at the slightest amount of pressure she would suddenly shatter. He felt guilty, obviously.
While not having her phone had given her a less stressful week, Andy missed the rather playful and teasing texts from her loyal friend. She would rather die than admit it, but she did feel rather lonely. No texts meant there was no supply of motivation or fuel for her over active imagination.
She missed him. She missed their marathon movies nights. She missed him bursting into her apartment with beer and wine and pizza; just to gossip like a giddy schoolgirl.
Yet…
Who she missed the most was Miranda.
She hadn’t seen her in the flesh for far too long and then suddenly she was waking up with the silver-haired beauty seated next to her bed, watching her - guarding her. Then, sadly, as quickly as she had arrived back in Andy’s life she had disappeared.
Andy sighed mournfully. She was so obviously head over heels in love with the older woman. During her tenure at Runway, Andy had been able to ignore her feelings, thinking that she was merely in a state of hero-worship, that it was only a minor crush and would go away in time. It was a certainty she’d clung to after Paris, believing that everything would fade with the older woman’s absence.
Nigel was the one who had poked and prodded at the forgotten feelings - feelings she had denied nearly unconsciously - and now the dam was broken. Acknowledging the truth had been easy-ish, now she just needed to accept that she was in love, like a lovesick puppy. The sensation was not good. No, how could unrequited love ever be a positive thing? It was like getting bitch-slapped in the face.
Depression hung heavily over her head and this feeling rested badly with Andy.
But who ever felt happy when they were depressed really?
Logically, Andy knew there were several factors that worked against them as a couple - disparate career levels, socio-economic status, and personal history among a few.
Age and gender, however, were never an issue. A shocking fact she now understood with help from Nigel. He’d helped her understand that she’d had a few female crushes before, but she had never looked too deeply into it or even dared to explore such feelings. Unlike some of her friends back in high school or college who had always gushed their various admirations for the same sex, stating ‘that girl is so cool’ or ‘ that girl is so sexy’.
“Miranda is a woman, damn it,” Andy growled in frustration. But her statement was correct, Miranda Priestly WAS a woman, a lady at that - not some girl with raging hormones or plain curiosity that would lead to nothing more than a mere experiment.
Miranda was, however, in possession of two failed marriages and twin red-headed daughters with a mischievous streak a mile wide. Andy knew those girls were the center of the older woman’s universe and that she doted on them constantly, but all that attention still could not dissolve the loneliness they felt when their mother was not around. Andy couldn’t help but have a soft spot for all three priestly women.
Then there was that fact that Miranda Priestly was the Fashion Queen - the sole deciding voice of taste and style. She dominated and ran Runway with extreme strength and power, making Runway her palace, her office chair her throne, and ordering and controlling her minions like a nineteenth century monarch.
Andy Sachs? She was just a lowly cub reporter at the Mirror. Her position was laughable compared to the other writers and editors at her newspaper. How could she possibly ever be on the same scale as Miranda Priestly and Runway?
Miranda Priestly lived in an up-scale area of East New York, ten blocks from Central Park, supporting herself and her two children with a steady income ranging around six to seven figures a month. She had already been involved in the publishing industry for around a quarter of a century and currently held the title of Editor-in-chief, Queen of the fashion world.
The Cub-Reporter? Even when she was tasting of the same pool, standing in the same field as the fashion maven, Andy stood far too close to the edge of the world. While Miranda, one of the key players in the industry, had an exclusive place, right in the middle.
So what could Andy possibly have to entice the woman?
Miranda saw models every single day - all of whom possessed bodies men drooled over and women envied and killed themselves trying to obtain. Even with these models literally parading around with the tiniest amount of material covering their bodies or sometimes none on at all - leaving nothing to the imagination - Miranda never blinked an eye at them. There was no inappropriate ogling of naked flesh and no secretly thrown glances of appreciation. So if the most attractive women in the world couldn’t turn the editor’s head, why would Miranda ever look twice at Andy?
So, body was off the list.
Beauty?
Andy was aware that her looks were slightly above average - she’d often received envied and jealous looks from other girls in college and now from the women she worked with at the paper. So her long, brown hair and big, doe-eyes were no longer something she detested, but now made her feel unique and slightly special.
Yet she was plain in comparison if she - not that she would - dared to compare herself to those models. It really was like comparing a simple piece of coal to a precious diamond.
Position?
She has absolutely no position in her job she could be proud of… yet.
Money?
Ha! That wasn’t even an option.
Creating a mental list had left Andy feeling even more depressed. Releasing a tired groan, Andy lowered her aching body further down on the couch. She placed her ankles on top of the armrest and lay her head down on a faded cushion. If she could just get some rest, maybe she could find a better quality about herself that would not lead her further into depression.
Settling deeper into her couch, Andy couldn’t help but hope to find something within herself that would attract the older woman back into her life and keep her there. As she closed her eyes, Andy’s brain registered that her medication was doing its job effectively and was now lulling her into a drug-induced sleep, away from her depressive thoughts. Even as she slipped into the land of slumber, she couldn’t help but wonder when the next spell of depression would take its toll on her mind.