Memories In March : Chapter 1
A/N 1: I’m on a roll, so bear with my incessant ramblings. I plan to make this one of those very long stories and hope to complete it before I die.
A/N 2: Please do bear with me if the initial few chapters are cryptic because there’ll be flashbacks later to give it more coherence.
Trigger warning: Death of a child, so please read only if you’re comfortable with it. I hope tragedies like this which tear apart families never befall any of you.
A/N 3: None of the characters in this story belong to me. I declare that Miranda Priestly officially belongs to Meryl Streep and the rest of it belongs to Lauren Weisberger or Fox Studios, whichever.
A/N 4: Un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine.
Rating: M, for adult themes and other things to come.
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.”
― W.S. Merwin
The smallest coffins are the heaviest
July 11th, 2009
Sunday, 9:24 a.m.
Bethesda Fountain, Central Park
She doesn't have reason to be here anymore. Patricia is long gone and the girls haven't asked for another pet as yet. However, she still seems to have not fallen out of the routine of bringing Patricia to Central Park, along with her family every Sunday morning.
The house is empty because her fourteen year old twins are at their father's, so she seeks out solace in the water of this fountain.
Today she doesn't recognize her reflection in the water and it's been like this for a few days, no months, no, almost a year.
It's not just her physical appearance- of course her hair's whiter if that's possible and she has more wrinkles poking at her skin and she's lost weight, too much weight. But that's not it, there is something in her eyes that she doesn't recognize, like someone else is staring back at her-someone who learnt and enjoyed and lived and then suddenly died in a moment. This new woman whom she doesn't recognize was only born last March.
March signifies the arrival of Spring- The winds in March are as ferocious as the lion and yet as soft as satin. Winter is over after all- spring is just around the corner. The sap is beginning to run, the buds are swelling, and wildly exotic flowers are beginning to poke through the mould and duff! Rejuvenation is in the making and a thousand things are happening underground that for six long months or more were dead and forgotten.
In all creation there is nothing more exhilarating that this rebirth of life. She mocks at the irony of her situation.
She got a new life alright but it’s the one she never wanted back. They gave her hope and then went away in March. Not long after, Patricia left too.
Loss is such an indefinable thing, the grief of it stays back no matter what you do.
It’s the girls and her again and the occasional sleazy scumbags from the grand Runway soirees who are worthy enough to spend only a night in her bed.
She doesn't like these encounters per se, but she needs it. A plunge into oblivion, a momentary respite from that constant ache, a moment of carnal pleasure, a futile attempt to take her away from an ever-present grief.
She wonders how Andrea is coping. They didn't even see each other at Trinity on the one year mark.
It’s been a year and four months. Almost. Yet it’s new, the pain and the ache and the grief seem to have been afflicted on her yesterday.
She is knocked out, literally, of her thoughts by a St. Bernard almost climbing onto her looking for something and for a moment she thinks it's Patricia, but isn't, because this one's smaller and wilder unlike her docile darling.
She ruffles her fur and talks to her in the dog language she seems to have mastered and the dog looks at her lovingly. She misses Patricia but can’t seem to get herself a new one. She misses too many things which are unattainable.
She’s scared of loss. She’s not very good at it. She doesn’t think she can take any more of it. Not again.
She wonders who this dog belongs to. As if to answer her question a little boy of about 5 comes running out of nowhere screaming in the most melodious voice 'Jessie, Jessie where are you?' He sees Miranda and stops 2 steps short of her.
And for a moment Miranda loses all sense of time and place. There is something all too familiar about him. The blue eyes and the brown hair. That lovely smile. He would’ve looked like this, just like this.
His mellifluous voice breaks her out of her reverie, ‘Jessie, get down girl, mommy is calling us!' He seems completely un-intimidated by Miranda's presence but nevertheless looks at her curiously.
Miranda is fascinated by this little boy and she can't help but smile lovingly at him. She wonders how different her life might have been if, if he would’ve been around.
There would have been no ties of blood between them but those eight months within her womb had been enough for her to lie down on the tarmac to save his life.
'Why are you crying?' The boy asks and Miranda wonders for a moment who he is speaking to before realizing its directed at her.
She traces her fingers over her cheeks and can feel the hot wetness of tears against her cool skin.
She finds her voice and says, 'I don't know sweetheart,' she traces a finger across his cheek, 'what's your name?'
'Christopher, but everyone calls me Chris.' He says nonchalantly. She withdraws her fingers like they’re gonna get burnt by merely touching his cheek.
This all seems so very surreal to her.
She can't get herself to say the name again. Not even after a year and four months. Instead she takes the dog whose name she's learnt is Jessie and puts her down from her lap. 'Here you go.'
She doesn't want him to go. If she could she'd look at him forever, but she can't find words to stall him.
'Chris, Jessie where are you nerds?' A voice, a very very familiar voice calls from behind Miranda.
She doesn't want to hope or believe so she turns her head back not expecting to see Andrea, not at all. But there she is, in all her glory wearing that old Northwestern hoodie and skin hugging jeans. Her hair is different-shorter and edgier with more fringes. She looks like a teenager, almost.
And then their eyes meet while time stops, yet again.
They're at either sides of the fountain, only the water preventing them a clear view of one another.
And suddenly Miranda is acutely aware of her appearance. She knows she aged a little too much ever since their last meeting.
Miranda is frozen in place while Andy walks over taking in her appearance, their eyes still on each other, as if piercing the souls.
Christopher is the first to break the quiet, 'Mommy, Jessie was being a naughty girl, so I had to come look and then,' he looks up to Miranda and adds, 'this snow fairy helped me.'
The adults can't help but laugh at his choice of words. The moment is cut short with Jessie running off again and Chris following her.
'Don't get too far away!' Andy shouts out.
And then there is silence, absolute. Only interrupted by the gurgling sounds of the water from the fountain.
Too much water under the bridge. Too much grief and pain. Too many things left unsaid. Too many memories.
Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form. Andrea had said, only is she had heard.
Andy, yet again, is ready to break the ice, 'I adopted him last July and then got Jessie. I figured he would have looked like him. How are you?'
Miranda ignores the last part of the question, 'Chr---Christopher?!' It’s the first time she has said the name since last March.
'Yeah, like I said, he reminds me of him.' Andy says smiling radiantly, almost glowing. Then she looks at Miranda and says, 'You look...You've lost a lot of weight.'
Miranda had hoped she wouldn't notice. She smiles wryly and adjusts her clothes as if that will miraculously make her gain weight. Ironically, she had been underweight even when they had met last, atleast according to Dr. Abbasac.
'Hmm,maybe. You look beautiful.'
Andy blushes,'Oh well. It's him. He keeps me on my feet all day! He's a bundle of joy.'
A physical ache courses through Miranda's body. She wants to be happy for Andrea but can't get herself to be. She knows Andrea has found a way to make those painful memories her strength and go ahead with what life has to offer, while she still clings on to the memories from last March.
'Yes he seems like it. You're so brave Andrea.' She says with a faraway look on her face while she rests her hand on her abdomen for a momentary second.
'No Miranda. We chose two different paths. That's it. The pain will always be there, but I chose to make new happy memories to cover it up. You decided to not make an effort.'
And Miranda's defenses are up again. She bristles at the insinuation. What does she know about pain? How could she say such a thing?
Then again, wasn’t it Andrea who had lost her only heir, a tie of blood. They had both lost him, so what if she had carried him, it did not hurt Andrea any less.
All the memories, the pain-physical and mental, the heartbreak, comes back--she remembers March-all the fear, the momentary joy, the panic, the frantic hour before everything, her world as she knew it crashed around her and then, then came the grief-the ever-present grief gnawing constantly at her existence.
She puts her hand on her flat abdomen again, involuntarily, pushes back the grief, the frustration and anger to the recesses of her mind.
'I've read your articles, they're unique and refreshing. You're doing great.'
Andy ruffles her fringes, something Miranda has forever adored,'Umm, thanks. I'm glad you like 'em , it means a lot. I got a promotion so we just moved in to this side of the city!'
Andy sees Chris and Jessie venturing out of sight and shouts out again, 'Don't go where I can't see you, you two.'
Something warm stirs in Miranda's heart seeing Andy like this; she wonders how different things might have been.
Miranda realizes that Andrea is so much more mature and brave than she is.
‘Congratulations, I’m sure you deserved it.’ Miranda says and Andy smiles again.
'How are the girls, and Runway?'
‘Rebellious, is the word I’d use, for both. They’re growing and Runway is Runway.’ If Andy hadn’t majored in Miranda 101 she wouldn’t have understood her cryptic answers, but Miranda’s tone and answer says it’s the same as you left them.
Andy wants to talk to Miranda more, but she can see Jessie and Chris getting impatient. Her hear breaks to see Miranda this way and even after everything last March she wants to see Miranda happy. But she has moved on and duty calls her.
‘Umm, I gotta go, Chris..he’s waiting. I’ll see you around.’ And even before Miranda can reply she takes off.
Miranda turns back to see Andy running up to Chris and taking him in her arms. Her heart clenches at the sight and yet is filled with an incomprehensible joy. For a moment, her eyes meet the child’s crystal blue eyes and she has hope, the flicker of hope she has always had, that nothing is truly ever lost.
Who knows what tomorrow holds for you.
Umm, yeah, tell me what you think?
A/N 2: Please do bear with me if the initial few chapters are cryptic because there’ll be flashbacks later to give it more coherence.
Trigger warning: Death of a child, so please read only if you’re comfortable with it. I hope tragedies like this which tear apart families never befall any of you.
A/N 3: None of the characters in this story belong to me. I declare that Miranda Priestly officially belongs to Meryl Streep and the rest of it belongs to Lauren Weisberger or Fox Studios, whichever.
A/N 4: Un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine.
Rating: M, for adult themes and other things to come.
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.”
― W.S. Merwin
The smallest coffins are the heaviest
July 11th, 2009
Sunday, 9:24 a.m.
Bethesda Fountain, Central Park
She doesn't have reason to be here anymore. Patricia is long gone and the girls haven't asked for another pet as yet. However, she still seems to have not fallen out of the routine of bringing Patricia to Central Park, along with her family every Sunday morning.
The house is empty because her fourteen year old twins are at their father's, so she seeks out solace in the water of this fountain.
Today she doesn't recognize her reflection in the water and it's been like this for a few days, no months, no, almost a year.
It's not just her physical appearance- of course her hair's whiter if that's possible and she has more wrinkles poking at her skin and she's lost weight, too much weight. But that's not it, there is something in her eyes that she doesn't recognize, like someone else is staring back at her-someone who learnt and enjoyed and lived and then suddenly died in a moment. This new woman whom she doesn't recognize was only born last March.
March signifies the arrival of Spring- The winds in March are as ferocious as the lion and yet as soft as satin. Winter is over after all- spring is just around the corner. The sap is beginning to run, the buds are swelling, and wildly exotic flowers are beginning to poke through the mould and duff! Rejuvenation is in the making and a thousand things are happening underground that for six long months or more were dead and forgotten.
In all creation there is nothing more exhilarating that this rebirth of life. She mocks at the irony of her situation.
She got a new life alright but it’s the one she never wanted back. They gave her hope and then went away in March. Not long after, Patricia left too.
Loss is such an indefinable thing, the grief of it stays back no matter what you do.
It’s the girls and her again and the occasional sleazy scumbags from the grand Runway soirees who are worthy enough to spend only a night in her bed.
She doesn't like these encounters per se, but she needs it. A plunge into oblivion, a momentary respite from that constant ache, a moment of carnal pleasure, a futile attempt to take her away from an ever-present grief.
She wonders how Andrea is coping. They didn't even see each other at Trinity on the one year mark.
It’s been a year and four months. Almost. Yet it’s new, the pain and the ache and the grief seem to have been afflicted on her yesterday.
She is knocked out, literally, of her thoughts by a St. Bernard almost climbing onto her looking for something and for a moment she thinks it's Patricia, but isn't, because this one's smaller and wilder unlike her docile darling.
She ruffles her fur and talks to her in the dog language she seems to have mastered and the dog looks at her lovingly. She misses Patricia but can’t seem to get herself a new one. She misses too many things which are unattainable.
She’s scared of loss. She’s not very good at it. She doesn’t think she can take any more of it. Not again.
She wonders who this dog belongs to. As if to answer her question a little boy of about 5 comes running out of nowhere screaming in the most melodious voice 'Jessie, Jessie where are you?' He sees Miranda and stops 2 steps short of her.
And for a moment Miranda loses all sense of time and place. There is something all too familiar about him. The blue eyes and the brown hair. That lovely smile. He would’ve looked like this, just like this.
His mellifluous voice breaks her out of her reverie, ‘Jessie, get down girl, mommy is calling us!' He seems completely un-intimidated by Miranda's presence but nevertheless looks at her curiously.
Miranda is fascinated by this little boy and she can't help but smile lovingly at him. She wonders how different her life might have been if, if he would’ve been around.
There would have been no ties of blood between them but those eight months within her womb had been enough for her to lie down on the tarmac to save his life.
'Why are you crying?' The boy asks and Miranda wonders for a moment who he is speaking to before realizing its directed at her.
She traces her fingers over her cheeks and can feel the hot wetness of tears against her cool skin.
She finds her voice and says, 'I don't know sweetheart,' she traces a finger across his cheek, 'what's your name?'
'Christopher, but everyone calls me Chris.' He says nonchalantly. She withdraws her fingers like they’re gonna get burnt by merely touching his cheek.
This all seems so very surreal to her.
She can't get herself to say the name again. Not even after a year and four months. Instead she takes the dog whose name she's learnt is Jessie and puts her down from her lap. 'Here you go.'
She doesn't want him to go. If she could she'd look at him forever, but she can't find words to stall him.
'Chris, Jessie where are you nerds?' A voice, a very very familiar voice calls from behind Miranda.
She doesn't want to hope or believe so she turns her head back not expecting to see Andrea, not at all. But there she is, in all her glory wearing that old Northwestern hoodie and skin hugging jeans. Her hair is different-shorter and edgier with more fringes. She looks like a teenager, almost.
And then their eyes meet while time stops, yet again.
They're at either sides of the fountain, only the water preventing them a clear view of one another.
And suddenly Miranda is acutely aware of her appearance. She knows she aged a little too much ever since their last meeting.
Miranda is frozen in place while Andy walks over taking in her appearance, their eyes still on each other, as if piercing the souls.
Christopher is the first to break the quiet, 'Mommy, Jessie was being a naughty girl, so I had to come look and then,' he looks up to Miranda and adds, 'this snow fairy helped me.'
The adults can't help but laugh at his choice of words. The moment is cut short with Jessie running off again and Chris following her.
'Don't get too far away!' Andy shouts out.
And then there is silence, absolute. Only interrupted by the gurgling sounds of the water from the fountain.
Too much water under the bridge. Too much grief and pain. Too many things left unsaid. Too many memories.
Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form. Andrea had said, only is she had heard.
Andy, yet again, is ready to break the ice, 'I adopted him last July and then got Jessie. I figured he would have looked like him. How are you?'
Miranda ignores the last part of the question, 'Chr---Christopher?!' It’s the first time she has said the name since last March.
'Yeah, like I said, he reminds me of him.' Andy says smiling radiantly, almost glowing. Then she looks at Miranda and says, 'You look...You've lost a lot of weight.'
Miranda had hoped she wouldn't notice. She smiles wryly and adjusts her clothes as if that will miraculously make her gain weight. Ironically, she had been underweight even when they had met last, atleast according to Dr. Abbasac.
'Hmm,maybe. You look beautiful.'
Andy blushes,'Oh well. It's him. He keeps me on my feet all day! He's a bundle of joy.'
A physical ache courses through Miranda's body. She wants to be happy for Andrea but can't get herself to be. She knows Andrea has found a way to make those painful memories her strength and go ahead with what life has to offer, while she still clings on to the memories from last March.
'Yes he seems like it. You're so brave Andrea.' She says with a faraway look on her face while she rests her hand on her abdomen for a momentary second.
'No Miranda. We chose two different paths. That's it. The pain will always be there, but I chose to make new happy memories to cover it up. You decided to not make an effort.'
And Miranda's defenses are up again. She bristles at the insinuation. What does she know about pain? How could she say such a thing?
Then again, wasn’t it Andrea who had lost her only heir, a tie of blood. They had both lost him, so what if she had carried him, it did not hurt Andrea any less.
All the memories, the pain-physical and mental, the heartbreak, comes back--she remembers March-all the fear, the momentary joy, the panic, the frantic hour before everything, her world as she knew it crashed around her and then, then came the grief-the ever-present grief gnawing constantly at her existence.
She puts her hand on her flat abdomen again, involuntarily, pushes back the grief, the frustration and anger to the recesses of her mind.
'I've read your articles, they're unique and refreshing. You're doing great.'
Andy ruffles her fringes, something Miranda has forever adored,'Umm, thanks. I'm glad you like 'em , it means a lot. I got a promotion so we just moved in to this side of the city!'
Andy sees Chris and Jessie venturing out of sight and shouts out again, 'Don't go where I can't see you, you two.'
Something warm stirs in Miranda's heart seeing Andy like this; she wonders how different things might have been.
Miranda realizes that Andrea is so much more mature and brave than she is.
‘Congratulations, I’m sure you deserved it.’ Miranda says and Andy smiles again.
'How are the girls, and Runway?'
‘Rebellious, is the word I’d use, for both. They’re growing and Runway is Runway.’ If Andy hadn’t majored in Miranda 101 she wouldn’t have understood her cryptic answers, but Miranda’s tone and answer says it’s the same as you left them.
Andy wants to talk to Miranda more, but she can see Jessie and Chris getting impatient. Her hear breaks to see Miranda this way and even after everything last March she wants to see Miranda happy. But she has moved on and duty calls her.
‘Umm, I gotta go, Chris..he’s waiting. I’ll see you around.’ And even before Miranda can reply she takes off.
Miranda turns back to see Andy running up to Chris and taking him in her arms. Her heart clenches at the sight and yet is filled with an incomprehensible joy. For a moment, her eyes meet the child’s crystal blue eyes and she has hope, the flicker of hope she has always had, that nothing is truly ever lost.
Who knows what tomorrow holds for you.
Umm, yeah, tell me what you think?