The Painter
Title: The Painter
Part 7: The Flames, The Forge And The Hammer
Rating: PG13-NC17
Disclaimer: All rights to their rightful owners.
Warnings: Angst, hurt & comfort, smut in chapters to come, etc...
Summary: Andy Sachs Goldman is a celebrated painter. She paints the rich and famous all around the world. Or, she did, until two years ago when she dropped off the grid entirely and became almost hermit-like. But now after her self-imposed exile, she is back in the public eye. Miranda Priestly has only a vague recollection of ever hearing about AS Goldman, but when she meets the woman in the flesh, her unexpected offer of a portrait surprises her into accepting. Will these two women find a balance between their two personalities and get along for the sake of the portrait? Or will Andy's past come back to haunt them and tear them apart irreparably?
(A/n: Medical and legal facts may sometimes be inaccurate and have been altered to fit the needs of the story. This applies to all current and future chapters. Enjoy the read. I love hearing from my readers! It helps me to keep writing!)
“The good Lord made us all out of iron. Then he turns up the heat to forge some of us into steel.” - Marie Osmond
Andy tossed and turned on her newly acquired bed. It felt strange without someone sleeping on the other side.
She’d had the old one put into storage, the day after Miranda’s last session.
There was a strange kind of cold that had seeped into her bones recently.
She couldn’t seem to stop being cold all the time. Her feet and hands in particular felt perpetually chilled.
Andy wrapped herself in the blankets even tighter and shut her eyes in defiance of the elusiveness of the peace she longed for. Sleep was being a fickle bitch tonight. Andy heaved an annoyed sigh.
What she wouldn’t give to be back in Italy, in her beloved Florence, enjoying the sun, instead of freezing in cold, lonely New-York.
November always had been one of her least favourite months. Too cold to be pleasant most days, yet not cold enough to be called winter yet and therefore warrant the wearing of fashionable winter clothes. Ones that actually kept people warm, instead of those flimsy fall clothes that after a month or so offered no protections whatsoever against the damp cold of the November rains.
Finally after another 15 minutes of grappling with the covers and her own discomfort she relented and got up.
She went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. She sat at her serving island and leaned on her elbows. She sipped at her green tea, relishing the heat it radiated through her. Her fingers curled around the mug, enjoying the heat it imparted to her ever cold hands.
Andy finished her cup and went to turn up the heat before finally heading back to the bed. Andy looked up at the ceiling to begin another starring match, one which if she was lucky, she would quickly loose.
She wasn’t lucky.
Henry hadn’t called. He hadn’t even come back for his things yet. It had been two days.
Not a word.
Did he even care? Or was he relieved? Andy honestly didn’t know.
She’d never thought Henry would have it in him to betray her like he had. He’d been kind to her once. It was what had drawn them together, much to the delight of everyone around them.
Andy’s father had always told her, “Find someone who can run the company well, make him family and then you can paint your silly pictures for the rest of your days.” She could still hear her father’s voice in her mind saying those words to a 12 year old Andy after the death of her mother. Any softness that Andy’s mom had found in her father had died with her and her lung cancer.
Andy’d taken that knowledge to heart, even at such a tender age. She longed to be free to paint. But it wasn’t meant to be. She had responsibilities, as her father was so fond of reminding her.
Andy loved her father, she really did. He was a cold, strong man, who’d lost his beloved wife and didn’t really know what to do with his teenage daughter. He had Andy packed off to a boarding school in London. Andy could almost roll her eyes at all the blatant stereotypes her relationship with her father embodied.
Andy and her father never talked about her mother, after she died. It was too painful for him. Some days her father couldn’t bear to look at her and for the longest time Andy had wondered why that was. Had she done something wrong? But when she finally found pictures of her mother years later she realised just how much they looked alike and felt awful for her father.
But her father was not one to be pitied or even sympathized with. He never remarried.
Andy had always wondered if he’d wished she’d been a boy instead of a girl. He’d placed his expectations on her from an early age, and despite it all they still loved each other, in their own awkward way. So she’d done her damned best at school and became quite formidable in her own right as she took the helm of the family company.
By the time she was 25 she’d been running the company under her father’s guidance for 4 years.
She hated it. She had hated every damn minute of it. But her father was not to be disobeyed.
She met Henry that year when the Goldman’s had started agreements for the merger of Sachs and Co. and Goldman and Co.
She’d married Henry Goldman and had Ethan that same year… And then her world was crushed like a glass being smashed by a hammer. Mercilessly. Hundreds of irreparable unrecognisable pieces, her life broken, never to be fixed again. Her sanity hanging by a shred.
Ethan was dead. Nothing mattered anymore.
She’d thought she’d never be capable of facing the world again. Henry had tried to be supportive but it hadn’t helped. The only thing that had helped was her painting.
Her escape.
But it wasn’t enough.
Everywhere Andy looked she was reminded of the loss she had suffered.
She tried to kill herself. Twice. She failed both times.
It was only Henry’s defence of her and her paintings that kept her out of a psychiatric hospital.
Henry suffered too. But instead of letting out his emotions he drowned them in alcohol.
He still did.
Finally Andy couldn’t handle it anymore. They decided to separate willingly for a time. She fled to Florence and signed up for a prestigious art program there. She garnered a lot of attention with her portraits. When she landed a portrait deal with a few celebrities across the pond that had been when the world had truly begun to notice her.
Andy finished the six month program and opened a gallery in Paris. She found some semblance of sanity, the more she painted. She was still anti-social and depressed but she was no longer suicidal.
Henry visited her in both Florence and Paris, twice a month for a few days at a time. He still drank too often. But he was Andy’s safety net and he did a good job at being there to catch her as much as he could. Andy couldn’t fault him for that. So Andy ignored his drinking problem so long as he was there for her.
They never loved each other.
Their fathers had basically shoved them together and eventually they had caved in to the expectations set on them. They both knew that.
Andy never told Henry she loved him. Not once. Because she didn’t.
Henry had tried to say it, but Andy had cut him off and told him he only wished he loved her. It was true. He wished that he did. But he didn’t and they slowly accepted that their marriage was one of convenience and not one of love.
They were friends and partners of sorts. And sometimes lovers. It was mostly out of a need for comfort that they chose to be lovers. They feared the accusations a lack of monogamy could cause, and their prenup prevented any form of adultery, consensual on the part of both parties or not, on pain of losing everything they owned.
Her father officially retired and let Henry take over as CEO the year she turned 27.
The irony was lost on her when he died a month after he retired. A car crash. It had been terribly strange for her to think of her indomitable father as someone who could be hurt or killed so easily. But he had been.
Andy touched a hand to her baby bump. Her father would never get to see either of her children grow up. At least her father had seen Ethan before he’d died. He’d been so pleased. Andy could still see his smile as he played with her baby boy.
Some days Andy almost wished she could believe in a God, and in heaven. But she couldn’t bring herself to. Because if there was a heaven where the dead went to be reunited, the thought of dying would be far too tempting for Andy. She’d lost so many people in her life. And now she was losing Henry too.
She felt the baby move and she sighed. If she lost this baby…she couldn’t even contemplate how she would survive it. Simply because she knew she wouldn’t. But, so long as this child was alive, she would live. She could never willingly do what her mother had done accidentally to her child.
Would this baby be a boy or a girl? How much would Henry be involved? Andy wouldn’t deny him the right to see the child, but she couldn’t abide him being around it while he was still drinking.
Andy wished her mother had still been alive. Allegra Sachs’ advice had always been sound, even when Andy had been just a young girl. And she wished her mother had gotten the chance to see her child-children, Andy corrected herself. She wished Ethan had never died. She couldn’t help tearing up thinking of her little boy, gripping her fingers and looking up at her so intently with curious blue eyes- a sob escaped her. ‘Damn it.’ She thought.
Andy covered her face with her hands and groaned. This was why she used to take sleeping pills. Late night trips down memory lane never led anywhere pleasant.
She could still see his face in her mind, clear as day. And if she closed her eyes she could smell his clean new-baby smell. Andy didn’t try to hold back the tears that came sliding down her face. She curled up on herself and touched her baby bump. What would it be like when this child arrived? What if it was another boy? How would she cope? Would she see Ethan’s face in this new child’s features? Would they be alike in temperament?
“Oh God.” Andy sobbed. “Oh please no.” She didn’t want to be constantly comparing both children. What would that do to the child, if she couldn’t help herself?
The memories she had worked so hard to bury came out of their dark corner in her mind and tormented her.
Ethan’s mouth open as he slept, Ethan gulping down his milk hungrily, Ethan making adorable noises as Henry baby talked to him, Ethan falling asleep in her arms as she sang a lullaby to him.
She lay there curled up on the new bed, and sobbed for a while, quietly whimpering with each memory that crept up on her.
She felt the baby kick, almost as if to protest that she was upset. Andy took a few deep breaths. She stood up again. Apparently sleep wasn’t going to happen for a while yet. She headed for her studio. Painting seemed like a good idea. Ungodly hour or no. She needed to not think for a while.
Andy walked past the room she dreaded most in the flat. The one that had made her almost sell this flat. She paused in front of the door, her hand on the door handle
Andy rarely went in the nursery. She couldn’t bear all the memories it brought back. She hadn’t been able to get rid of the baby things still in there. But now that she was certain of her pregnancy, she would likely have to go into that room eventually. Or maybe she’d get her eventual still-to-be-hired-non-existent-yet, new assistant to take care of the renovations. There had to be renovations. It was hard to accept but it would be rather macabre to have a different child in the cradle of a dead one.
She took her courage with both hands and opened the door. She turned on the light.
Andy flinched seeing the empty crib.
She slowly walked into the room, glancing around at the toys still left on the shelves and the baby clothes in their baskets. The curtains with a forest pattern on them were still there, covering the large window. The walls painted with a pastel dark green paint and a tree design on the far wall with framed pictures of Ethan hung on each painted branch. Andy felt her head spin and she leaned against the nearest object. Her hand fell on the arm of the oak rocking chair her father had given her as a congratulations present.
She sat down in the chair, unable to support herself, with all the painful emotions flooding her mind. Why had she come in here? Was she a masochists now? Everywhere she looked, one name kept running through her mind.
“Ethan.” She whispered through the inescapable tears still leaving trails as they dripped down her cheeks.
“I don’t know if I can do this again.” Andy murmured, to the empty room. She swayed in the rocker, back and forth, memories of their son in her arms washing over her in bitter waves. So much happiness. So much loss.
The baby kicked again. Suddenly Andy knew she would do it all again. She would design the nursery herself, she would go and find maternity wear herself and she would take care of herself and this child. She had to. There was no other option.
Andy would hold herself together through it all. She would do it for herself and for this new baby.
Eventually Andy left the nursery room and went back to her new bed. She didn’t fall asleep right away but after about an hour or so, the sandman finally came for a visit.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Andy was awakened by the baby kicking at about 9am the next morning.
“So you’re awake huh? I bet you’re hungry. Me too.” Andy murmured to the squirming baby.
She got up and went to the kitchen. She checked the fridge and saw what her chef had bought for the week. Marina had been with Andy and Henry for about three years now. She made super a few nights a week and she also stocked the fridge for the other meals Andy and Henry might or might not make during the week. Their schedules were always unstable but they were- had been, Andy corrected her own thought, pretty good about having dinner together at home a few times a week. Obviously that wouldn’t be the case anymore.
She made toast and sliced up some melon. She took her prenatal vitamin. She made buckwheat tea. The taste reminded her of Miranda’s first time trying it. She would have to call Emily and set up the next sessions for this week.
She would see Miranda twice more this week. Andy sighed and put down her toast. She didn’t know what to do. She… wanted Miranda. Andy’d thought of herself as straight for so long that it was very strange for her to contemplate the reality of her attraction towards Miranda.
She’d been so sure she was straight… apparently not. Meeting Miranda had made her realize things about herself that she’d never questioned before.
She sipped at her tea, enjoying the smell of it as she drank. She put her cup down and glanced at her cellphone on the counter.
No calls yet.
Damn it, Henry was going to make her call him wasn’t he? It would be a very Henry like thing to do. He always had been a bit of coward when it came to fighting her on anything.
She and Henry were getting a divorce. The reality of that fact washed over her.
“God,” she breathed. Why was it that whenever Andy’s life changed, it happened in huge shifts all at once, instead of in increments? Was that normal? Maybe it was just her. She really didn’t know.
She should drop by the gallery for a few hours today, see how sales were going and check up on Gisele since she was now in charge of running the gallery till Andy hired a new ‘Lily’. She’d have to look for one and soon.
Andy couldn’t understand Lily’s reasoning for sleeping with Henry. But then she’d never understood how anyone could be unfaithful in a relationship, love or no love. She’d thought she and Henry had had it pretty good. That they’d reached a point in their lives where, ok, admittedly they didn’t love each other, not in the traditional way, but they were friends and good partners. Most of the time.
Even though it was true Henry got on Andy’s nerves quite often. But he’d chosen to break their agreement and at the same time, break her trust.
It was almost ironic to think that if Henry had actually talked to Andy about wanting to have a lover, or openly chosen to separate himself from her cleanly, things would have undoubtedly been different. She might have forgiven him for leaving her. She might even have considered letting him have a lover while remaining married…if they hadn’t had a child involved.
But as things stood now, he’d been sleazy about the whole ordeal. He’d chosen the worst partner, and if Andy was being completely honest with herself, the most clichéd one as well. If only he’d been honest with her… They might have stayed friends.
It was the secrecy and the trust broken between them that Andy resented most. They’d had a child together for Christ’s sake. They were having another one despite having taken precautions. Had he even thought about what his adultery would do to Andy and the baby?
She glanced at her phone again. She was going to have to call him. It had been two days after all.
He needed new clothes and she was ready for him to get out of the flat. Seeing his belongings everywhere only made it more difficult for Andy to think of anything but the impending divorce or her past.
She picked up the phone and called Henry’s cell.
He picked up.
“Hello Andy.” He sounded apprehensive. With good reason. Andy nearly snorted.
“Hello…” There was an awkward pause. Was there still room for politeness in the shred of their relationship? “You should come by to pick up your things. I’ll be at the gallery for a while. It would be best if you came while I am not here.” she said.
“Yes, alright, I’ll do that…Andy I am sorry-” he tried to say.
“Henry. Please.” She cut him off. She couldn’t hear his apologies right now. Not when she knew his sentiment would probably be a lie. “We’ve been through so much together I-” she paused and took steadying breath. “It’s been going on for a while then?” She asked.
“A few months now. Since before you found out about the baby. I swear Andy I wouldn’t have started it if I’d know there would be another child.” He said, his voice sounded pained. “Andy, I love her.”
“Ah.” She said. “I see.” And she did.
That explained everything. He was in love. The one thing Andy had never been able to give him.
It all made sense now.
“Well then. All the more reason for you to move out. Henry I’ll be back at the flat around five. Do you think you’ll have the time to get most of your things out by then?” She tried to sound professional. She even went so far as to use her ‘board room’voice. It was just a shade shy of authoritative but it demanded obedience. It was the one she’d learned from her father, while she ran the company.
“I- Yes. That will be plenty of time.” he sounded shocked by how cold she was being. Personally she didn’t see the point in being openly volatile towards him. It certainly wouldn’t help the divorce go smoothly if they became hateful towards one another.
“I took the liberty of setting up an appointment with our lawyers at 3pm Saturday.”
Andy quickly went through her mental agenda. “Yes. That’s good then.”
“You aren’t going to enforce the prenup, are you?” Henry dared to ask. Andy gapped at the phone in her hand.
He expected her to let him keep the part of her inheritance her father had created for her to share with her spouse? To continue running the company her father had created? Andy’s heart hardened at his pretentious expectations.
How dare he expect her to forgive him so easily?
“Yes I most certainly am going to enforce the prenup Henry.” She said flatly. She had to keep her cool. She’d learned that fighting fire with fire made more fire while fighting fire with ice put out the barest hint of a flame.
She could almost see Henry wince on the other end of the phone.
“Andy please, c’mon I-”
“No, Henry. You broke our agreement.” She growled. “You violated the prenup and even worse than all that, you broke my trust. The prenup stands. Pick up your things today or I will put them outside the apartment and leave them there for anyone to take. Goodbye Henry.”
“Andy! You can’t-” She hung up, not wanting to hear him plead for her to be more lenient. He most certainly did not deserve it.
The sheer nerve of him! To expect her to relent and allow him to continue making money from her family’s success after betraying her like he had! Love or no, he was sorely mistaken.
Miranda’s words echoed through her mind then, “Andrea, your husband is a fool if he doesn’t see just how lucky, he is to have you for a wife.”
Maybe Miranda was right. Maybe he was a fool. She glared at the phone in her hand trying to stifle the unmitigated outrage she felt towards Henry’s gal.
She sighed and put her dishes in the sink a little too roughly.
She was already dreading Saturday. She would have to call her lawyer to confirm the meeting and get material ready for the fight she’d hoped to avoid.
How could Henry be so stupid? Did he really believe she would soften and let him continue to profit from a family company that rightfully belonged her? He maybe be acting CEO but she was still the main shareholder, despite her lack of involvement for the past couple of years. She had continued to keep herself informed of the company’s progress.
She may not want to run the damn thing but that didn’t mean she’d watch her father’s empire fall apart or even weaken. Not under her watch. Henry’s father had merged his company to Andy’s father’s company after almost going bankrupt.
If Richard Sachs’ hadn’t bought Goldman and Co. as a favour to his long-time friend Charles Goldman, the company would have crashed and Henry’s family would have lost everything. Andy would be damned if she watched Henry continue to profit from something he owned only in name after betraying her trust so blatantly. He was an employee, not an owner. It was time he learned the difference.
Andy checked the time on her phone. 10:23am. She should leave before Henry came to pick his stuff up. She showered and applied some basic makeup before turning to her walk in closet. She chose a cherry red Valentino button-up dress and a sharply cut white overcoat with a black fur trim around the collar*. She paired the look with some chic Gucci sunglasses and Jimmy Choo grey and red pointed heels. She grabbed her turquoise Kate Spade clutch, and called Mark, her driver. Andy refused to drive while pregnant if she could avoid it. She locked the door behind her as she left.
A few minutes later Andy was stepping into her town car, and was on the way to her gallery. She called Gisele from the car. “Hello, Gisele?”
“Yes, Andy?” the French woman replied immediately alert. Andy smirked.
“Yes, I’ll be there in about 30 minutes or so. Can you have this month’s report ready by the time I get there?”
“Yes Andy. It will be ready for you when you walk in the door.” Gisele said. She sounded nervous. Good. She should be. For all Andy knew, Henry had slept with all her female staff members.
“I’ll see you soon.” Andy hung up.
Mark looked at her from the rear-view mirror. He said nothing. But Andy could tell he worried about her. Mark was nearing 60 now and he’d been driving her since she was a teenager still living with her father.
She was tempted to reassure him that she was fine, and for a moment she almost did. But she held back. He may have known her for a long time but he was still an employee. So instead of addressing his concerned glances, she turned to look out the window.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Andy was pleased with the report Gisele had given her as well as how the sales had gone. She’d sold 5 paintings in the last two weeks which was just fine by her.
It wasn’t as though she really needed the money but it was always nice to hear that rich patrons appreciated her work enough to pay her asking prices.
Andy had informed her design team of the situation with Lily and that she no longer worked for her. She asked Gisele to find her possible replacements and call her when she’d narrowed the search down to three candidates that she though Andy might approve of.
She of course complied with Andy’s demands and the whole team expressed sympathy for Andy’s difficult situation with Lily and Henry.
Some were upset by the whole situation. Many had trouble believing Lily would do something like that, while others listened to Andy’s explanation with a grim expression. Had they known? Andy couldn’t help but wonder if they had noticed.
One of Andy’s advertisement personnel in particular, Nate Anderson, who’d been close friends with Lily, was upset by her dismissal.
Andy assured him she would give Lily a reference letter despite the personal nature of the termination of her employment. She wasn’t so cruel as to deprive the stupid woman of a job in the future. She just couldn’t work with her anymore.
He seemed to be somewhat pacified by that. Andy had walked around the gallery and checked on all that needed checking and signed some forms and made a few calls to thank the buyers of her paintings. She’d spent about two hours there in total.
After that, she’d called Mark again. Once in the car she asked him to take her shopping for maternity clothes and other baby necessities. She had time to burn and she needed to do it while she felt she had the strength to look at baby things without collapsing into tears in public. He’d smiled and congratulated her belatedly on her pregnancy. Andy smiled tightly and thanked him for it.
She bought about six or seven different outfits from high end maternity wear retailers and Mark helped her by carrying her bags for her. Andy had protested that she could still handle a few clothing bags but he’d insisted and she’d relented.
When it came to buying a new crib and a few new pieces of furniture for the nursery she did have to take a few deep breaths and fought back tears. She decided to wait to buy baby clothes until she knew what gender the baby would be.
She would likely find out either this appointment or the next. She’d found out at 16 weeks last time that she was having a boy. But this time around was a bit different. They hadn’t been able to tell on her last visit. The baby had been in a position where they couldn’t see anything yet.
Andy and Mark walked out of the store with a few new pieces of furniture and a bunch of bags filled with high-end maternity wear.
As they crossed the automatic doors, Andy saw a mother with a baby carrier strapped around her torso. In the carrier there was a little boy. Andy flinched and felt as though someone had just slapped her. She stopped dead in her tracks and Mark nearly bumped into her.
“Miss Andy, are you alright?” Mark asked, after he’d righted himself. His expression was filled a concern Andy knew was meant kindly, but instead it bothered her for a reason she couldn’t quite identify.
“Y-yes of course. I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Seeing babies was still very hard on Andy.
It was nearly 5 o’clock by the time they got back to her apartment. Andy saw a small truck and a few men putting boxes in it.
She saw Henry step out of the apartment, directing a man to put the box he was holding into the truck. Shit. Henry was still here. Just great.
“Mark, actually would you mind dropping me at the Starbucks a block over? I have a sudden craving for a green tea frappuccino.” Andy said. She’d just thought of it. It seemed a good excuse as any she could come up with. She was not up to facing Henry just yet.
“Of course Miss Andy. It’s no trouble at all. Should I circle the block till you are finished?”
“I’d appreciate it. And…”she hesitated, “Could you give me a call when Henry leaves?”
“Yes, Miss Andy.” He replied, not looking away from the road as he drove to the Starbucks.
“Thank you Mark.”
“You’re very welcome Miss Andy.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was six thirty when Andy finally walked in to her apartment with Mark behind her carrying most of the heavy things they’d bought.
She’d get the building’s handyman to set up the furniture for her sometime after she’d decided on how to redecorate the room. She was going to have think of a colour theme. Maybe after the gender of the baby was established she’d have more ideas.
As if sensing that Andy was thinking about it, the baby kicked a few times. Andy gasped a bit and touched the spots where the baby was kicking. Yep. She could definitely feel it on her hand this time.
Her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“This is Emily Charlton calling for Miranda Priestly,” said the Brit’s voice on the other end of the phone, “I’d like to set up Miranda’s appointments for this week?”
“Yes, what times work best for her?” Andy asked.
“She’s free on Thursday at 5pm and on Sunday at 5:30pm.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“She’ll arrive 15 minutes early.” Emily reminded her.
“Yes, I’m aware. Thank you Emily. Was there anything else?”
“No.” she said curtly.
“Have a nice evening.” Andy said. She hung up before the redhead could reciprocate.
Well then, that was settled. Marina had set out a bowl of spinach linguini which had fried shrimp, artichokes, asparagus and red pepper mixed in. It was scrumptious and she told Marina so before she left. The middle aged Russian woman smiled and thanked her before leaving for the night.
Andy finished her meal and then went to see how different the bedroom looked without Henry’s things in it.
Andy couldn’t help but stare at the now empty parts of the bedroom. The closet had sections that were entirely empty now. Well. That was easily remedied. She hung up all her new outfits in her closet.
The bathroom was a bit bare and she disliked seeing the ‘his and her’ sinks…there was no longer a ‘his’ sink. Just two sinks in one bathroom.
Andy contemplated whether or not her calmness in the face of all the obvious empty spaces in what was now only her flat was normal or if the reality of the situation hadn’t really hit her yet.
She thought it might be a bit of both.
Instead of letting her mind continuously think on it, she went to her studio and picked up her sketch pad. Andy did a few studies of Miranda. She drew Miranda’s expressions, her eyes, her eyebrows, her mouth, her neck, her hands, her hips…Andy lingered on that last one, enjoying the image that kept playing over and over in her mind. Miranda in a pencil skirt, her hips swaying as she walked steadily away from Andy in six inch heels.
Oh yes, Andy could certainly appreciate all of Miranda. From the tips of her perfectly manicured toes to the ends of her snowy white locks, Andy appreciated the almost sharp kind of beauty Miranda represented. She was strong as steel, yet beautiful and delicate too.
She could slice a person’s bluster apart with her words like a well sharpened knife through meat.
The way the corner of her mouth curved up into a predatory smile when she was satisfied with something or feeling smug was somehow endearing to Andy. And her eyes…Miranda’s eyes could either freeze or melt a person’s heart with their ever changing expressions. The lines at the edges of her mouth and the corners of her eyes only added to her beauty for Andy’s artistic eyes.
For the first time Andy wondered about the age difference between her and Miranda and if the fact that she hadn’t even thought about it till now made her strange. Miranda was almost exactly 22 years older than Andy.
Andy chuckled at herself. She hadn’t even noticed it before now.
Andy did a quick google search on her phone to check when exactly Miranda’s birthday was. The 28th of December Miranda would turn 50 this year. She was a Capricorn. Andy herself was a strange zodiac sign. She was born on the 21ist of December. That made her half Sagittarius half Capricorn. Or in other terms, a ‘Sagicorn’. Andy snorted at her own silliness.
Andy was not a spiritual person in any way shape or form but she couldn’t help but see the similarities between the personalities associated with the zodiacs she belonged to and her own personality.
The same apparently held true for Miranda.
Capricorns were notoriously well dressed, slow to trust and very reserved, but when someone managed to gain their trust, they would have a strong, intelligent friend. That seemed to fit Miranda to a ‘T’ in Andy’s mind.
She reminisced about her first time seeing Miranda coming down the steps at the Benefit. Andy had immediately thought she was elegant and remarkably beautiful that evening. Andy could now appreciate the low décolleté of her velvet Valentino evening gown all the more since realising her budding attraction towards the woman. Had that really only been a few weeks ago?
It was still difficult to wrap her mind around her current situation and just how quickly everything had changed. In a matter of weeks, Andy’s entire life had done a 180 degree flip. Or it felt like it had anyway.
Andy leaned back against the sturdy leather armchair she was seated in. She checked the time on her phone. Almost four hours had passed as Andy was drawing Miranda. It was past nine o’clock at night. Andy yawned. She really needed to figure out a way to get into a better sleep pattern.
She felt sleep prick at her eyes and decided to give sleep a chance. She only hoped she could avoid a repeat of last night. Memories were supposed to be good things to have, weren’t they?
Andy wondered if that was really true. For her, she wasn’t entirely sure that it was. Many of her best memories where intertwined with her worst, after all.
As Andy crawled into bed she was once again all too aware of the fact that she was alone in the bed. The baby began to move about, persistently. Andy sighed. If the baby kept that up for long, sleep might not be an option just yet.
She stood up to choose a book from the library on the wall. She picked a well-worn copy of the House of Spirits by Isabel Allende. Her fingers traced the old pages of a book she’d had since she was a teenager. It was one of her favourites. So many things had changed since she’d first read the book and yet the story held within these pages would never fade, never end nor change nor die. ‘A fragile immortality via immovability.’ She mused. Just as Andy’s portraits, if treated properly for all time, would preserve the content it was intended to portray.
Speaking of portraits…She’d see Miranda for a sitting tomorrow. She went back to sit on the bed, book in hand.
‘What will ‘happen’ tomorrow?’ Andy wondered. She supposed something was likely to ‘happen’ again. The ‘incidents’, for lack of a better word, which brought them torturously close to things that were forbidden and that neither of them was truly ready to accept, much less entertain as actual possibilities, seemed to be common occurrence during their sessions.
She closed her eyes, one hand holding the book, the other hand on her stomach, feeling the movement of her child. For once, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining various possibilities for what tomorrow might bring.
She and Miranda were very different women in some aspects, but in others they were quite similar.
They both lived their lives performing a balancing act on the most fragile of tightropes. The line between despair and hope.
Now that Henry, her self-declared safety net, was officially gone, Andy was perilously close to tipping over the edge. Now, as to whether she would tip of the edge of hope or despair… that remained to be seen.
All that was left to do, was wait and see when and where she would fall.
Andy knew she would fall.
She wondered for a moment if she was insane not to simply jump off the line and let what happened afterwards, happen. To let go of everything and allow the darkness she had fought so hard to banish, to swallow her whole again as it had during those terrible months after Ethan’s death. She’d lost her balance then…and she’d somehow regained it through painting.
It would be so easy to just let go once more… But then Miranda would be alone on the line.
No, Andy decided. If she was insane to try and find a balance between idealism and reality, between light and dark, then Miranda must also be just as insane. Being insane alone would certainly only be half as fun.
A ‘folie à deux’ situation. How fitting.
- To be continued-
Part 7: The Flames, The Forge And The Hammer
Rating: PG13-NC17
Disclaimer: All rights to their rightful owners.
Warnings: Angst, hurt & comfort, smut in chapters to come, etc...
Summary: Andy Sachs Goldman is a celebrated painter. She paints the rich and famous all around the world. Or, she did, until two years ago when she dropped off the grid entirely and became almost hermit-like. But now after her self-imposed exile, she is back in the public eye. Miranda Priestly has only a vague recollection of ever hearing about AS Goldman, but when she meets the woman in the flesh, her unexpected offer of a portrait surprises her into accepting. Will these two women find a balance between their two personalities and get along for the sake of the portrait? Or will Andy's past come back to haunt them and tear them apart irreparably?
(A/n: Medical and legal facts may sometimes be inaccurate and have been altered to fit the needs of the story. This applies to all current and future chapters. Enjoy the read. I love hearing from my readers! It helps me to keep writing!)
“The good Lord made us all out of iron. Then he turns up the heat to forge some of us into steel.” - Marie Osmond
Andy tossed and turned on her newly acquired bed. It felt strange without someone sleeping on the other side.
She’d had the old one put into storage, the day after Miranda’s last session.
There was a strange kind of cold that had seeped into her bones recently.
She couldn’t seem to stop being cold all the time. Her feet and hands in particular felt perpetually chilled.
Andy wrapped herself in the blankets even tighter and shut her eyes in defiance of the elusiveness of the peace she longed for. Sleep was being a fickle bitch tonight. Andy heaved an annoyed sigh.
What she wouldn’t give to be back in Italy, in her beloved Florence, enjoying the sun, instead of freezing in cold, lonely New-York.
November always had been one of her least favourite months. Too cold to be pleasant most days, yet not cold enough to be called winter yet and therefore warrant the wearing of fashionable winter clothes. Ones that actually kept people warm, instead of those flimsy fall clothes that after a month or so offered no protections whatsoever against the damp cold of the November rains.
Finally after another 15 minutes of grappling with the covers and her own discomfort she relented and got up.
She went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. She sat at her serving island and leaned on her elbows. She sipped at her green tea, relishing the heat it radiated through her. Her fingers curled around the mug, enjoying the heat it imparted to her ever cold hands.
Andy finished her cup and went to turn up the heat before finally heading back to the bed. Andy looked up at the ceiling to begin another starring match, one which if she was lucky, she would quickly loose.
She wasn’t lucky.
Henry hadn’t called. He hadn’t even come back for his things yet. It had been two days.
Not a word.
Did he even care? Or was he relieved? Andy honestly didn’t know.
She’d never thought Henry would have it in him to betray her like he had. He’d been kind to her once. It was what had drawn them together, much to the delight of everyone around them.
Andy’s father had always told her, “Find someone who can run the company well, make him family and then you can paint your silly pictures for the rest of your days.” She could still hear her father’s voice in her mind saying those words to a 12 year old Andy after the death of her mother. Any softness that Andy’s mom had found in her father had died with her and her lung cancer.
Andy’d taken that knowledge to heart, even at such a tender age. She longed to be free to paint. But it wasn’t meant to be. She had responsibilities, as her father was so fond of reminding her.
Andy loved her father, she really did. He was a cold, strong man, who’d lost his beloved wife and didn’t really know what to do with his teenage daughter. He had Andy packed off to a boarding school in London. Andy could almost roll her eyes at all the blatant stereotypes her relationship with her father embodied.
Andy and her father never talked about her mother, after she died. It was too painful for him. Some days her father couldn’t bear to look at her and for the longest time Andy had wondered why that was. Had she done something wrong? But when she finally found pictures of her mother years later she realised just how much they looked alike and felt awful for her father.
But her father was not one to be pitied or even sympathized with. He never remarried.
Andy had always wondered if he’d wished she’d been a boy instead of a girl. He’d placed his expectations on her from an early age, and despite it all they still loved each other, in their own awkward way. So she’d done her damned best at school and became quite formidable in her own right as she took the helm of the family company.
By the time she was 25 she’d been running the company under her father’s guidance for 4 years.
She hated it. She had hated every damn minute of it. But her father was not to be disobeyed.
She met Henry that year when the Goldman’s had started agreements for the merger of Sachs and Co. and Goldman and Co.
She’d married Henry Goldman and had Ethan that same year… And then her world was crushed like a glass being smashed by a hammer. Mercilessly. Hundreds of irreparable unrecognisable pieces, her life broken, never to be fixed again. Her sanity hanging by a shred.
Ethan was dead. Nothing mattered anymore.
She’d thought she’d never be capable of facing the world again. Henry had tried to be supportive but it hadn’t helped. The only thing that had helped was her painting.
Her escape.
But it wasn’t enough.
Everywhere Andy looked she was reminded of the loss she had suffered.
She tried to kill herself. Twice. She failed both times.
It was only Henry’s defence of her and her paintings that kept her out of a psychiatric hospital.
Henry suffered too. But instead of letting out his emotions he drowned them in alcohol.
He still did.
Finally Andy couldn’t handle it anymore. They decided to separate willingly for a time. She fled to Florence and signed up for a prestigious art program there. She garnered a lot of attention with her portraits. When she landed a portrait deal with a few celebrities across the pond that had been when the world had truly begun to notice her.
Andy finished the six month program and opened a gallery in Paris. She found some semblance of sanity, the more she painted. She was still anti-social and depressed but she was no longer suicidal.
Henry visited her in both Florence and Paris, twice a month for a few days at a time. He still drank too often. But he was Andy’s safety net and he did a good job at being there to catch her as much as he could. Andy couldn’t fault him for that. So Andy ignored his drinking problem so long as he was there for her.
They never loved each other.
Their fathers had basically shoved them together and eventually they had caved in to the expectations set on them. They both knew that.
Andy never told Henry she loved him. Not once. Because she didn’t.
Henry had tried to say it, but Andy had cut him off and told him he only wished he loved her. It was true. He wished that he did. But he didn’t and they slowly accepted that their marriage was one of convenience and not one of love.
They were friends and partners of sorts. And sometimes lovers. It was mostly out of a need for comfort that they chose to be lovers. They feared the accusations a lack of monogamy could cause, and their prenup prevented any form of adultery, consensual on the part of both parties or not, on pain of losing everything they owned.
Her father officially retired and let Henry take over as CEO the year she turned 27.
The irony was lost on her when he died a month after he retired. A car crash. It had been terribly strange for her to think of her indomitable father as someone who could be hurt or killed so easily. But he had been.
Andy touched a hand to her baby bump. Her father would never get to see either of her children grow up. At least her father had seen Ethan before he’d died. He’d been so pleased. Andy could still see his smile as he played with her baby boy.
Some days Andy almost wished she could believe in a God, and in heaven. But she couldn’t bring herself to. Because if there was a heaven where the dead went to be reunited, the thought of dying would be far too tempting for Andy. She’d lost so many people in her life. And now she was losing Henry too.
She felt the baby move and she sighed. If she lost this baby…she couldn’t even contemplate how she would survive it. Simply because she knew she wouldn’t. But, so long as this child was alive, she would live. She could never willingly do what her mother had done accidentally to her child.
Would this baby be a boy or a girl? How much would Henry be involved? Andy wouldn’t deny him the right to see the child, but she couldn’t abide him being around it while he was still drinking.
Andy wished her mother had still been alive. Allegra Sachs’ advice had always been sound, even when Andy had been just a young girl. And she wished her mother had gotten the chance to see her child-children, Andy corrected herself. She wished Ethan had never died. She couldn’t help tearing up thinking of her little boy, gripping her fingers and looking up at her so intently with curious blue eyes- a sob escaped her. ‘Damn it.’ She thought.
Andy covered her face with her hands and groaned. This was why she used to take sleeping pills. Late night trips down memory lane never led anywhere pleasant.
She could still see his face in her mind, clear as day. And if she closed her eyes she could smell his clean new-baby smell. Andy didn’t try to hold back the tears that came sliding down her face. She curled up on herself and touched her baby bump. What would it be like when this child arrived? What if it was another boy? How would she cope? Would she see Ethan’s face in this new child’s features? Would they be alike in temperament?
“Oh God.” Andy sobbed. “Oh please no.” She didn’t want to be constantly comparing both children. What would that do to the child, if she couldn’t help herself?
The memories she had worked so hard to bury came out of their dark corner in her mind and tormented her.
Ethan’s mouth open as he slept, Ethan gulping down his milk hungrily, Ethan making adorable noises as Henry baby talked to him, Ethan falling asleep in her arms as she sang a lullaby to him.
She lay there curled up on the new bed, and sobbed for a while, quietly whimpering with each memory that crept up on her.
She felt the baby kick, almost as if to protest that she was upset. Andy took a few deep breaths. She stood up again. Apparently sleep wasn’t going to happen for a while yet. She headed for her studio. Painting seemed like a good idea. Ungodly hour or no. She needed to not think for a while.
Andy walked past the room she dreaded most in the flat. The one that had made her almost sell this flat. She paused in front of the door, her hand on the door handle
Andy rarely went in the nursery. She couldn’t bear all the memories it brought back. She hadn’t been able to get rid of the baby things still in there. But now that she was certain of her pregnancy, she would likely have to go into that room eventually. Or maybe she’d get her eventual still-to-be-hired-non-existent-yet, new assistant to take care of the renovations. There had to be renovations. It was hard to accept but it would be rather macabre to have a different child in the cradle of a dead one.
She took her courage with both hands and opened the door. She turned on the light.
Andy flinched seeing the empty crib.
She slowly walked into the room, glancing around at the toys still left on the shelves and the baby clothes in their baskets. The curtains with a forest pattern on them were still there, covering the large window. The walls painted with a pastel dark green paint and a tree design on the far wall with framed pictures of Ethan hung on each painted branch. Andy felt her head spin and she leaned against the nearest object. Her hand fell on the arm of the oak rocking chair her father had given her as a congratulations present.
She sat down in the chair, unable to support herself, with all the painful emotions flooding her mind. Why had she come in here? Was she a masochists now? Everywhere she looked, one name kept running through her mind.
“Ethan.” She whispered through the inescapable tears still leaving trails as they dripped down her cheeks.
“I don’t know if I can do this again.” Andy murmured, to the empty room. She swayed in the rocker, back and forth, memories of their son in her arms washing over her in bitter waves. So much happiness. So much loss.
The baby kicked again. Suddenly Andy knew she would do it all again. She would design the nursery herself, she would go and find maternity wear herself and she would take care of herself and this child. She had to. There was no other option.
Andy would hold herself together through it all. She would do it for herself and for this new baby.
Eventually Andy left the nursery room and went back to her new bed. She didn’t fall asleep right away but after about an hour or so, the sandman finally came for a visit.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Andy was awakened by the baby kicking at about 9am the next morning.
“So you’re awake huh? I bet you’re hungry. Me too.” Andy murmured to the squirming baby.
She got up and went to the kitchen. She checked the fridge and saw what her chef had bought for the week. Marina had been with Andy and Henry for about three years now. She made super a few nights a week and she also stocked the fridge for the other meals Andy and Henry might or might not make during the week. Their schedules were always unstable but they were- had been, Andy corrected her own thought, pretty good about having dinner together at home a few times a week. Obviously that wouldn’t be the case anymore.
She made toast and sliced up some melon. She took her prenatal vitamin. She made buckwheat tea. The taste reminded her of Miranda’s first time trying it. She would have to call Emily and set up the next sessions for this week.
She would see Miranda twice more this week. Andy sighed and put down her toast. She didn’t know what to do. She… wanted Miranda. Andy’d thought of herself as straight for so long that it was very strange for her to contemplate the reality of her attraction towards Miranda.
She’d been so sure she was straight… apparently not. Meeting Miranda had made her realize things about herself that she’d never questioned before.
She sipped at her tea, enjoying the smell of it as she drank. She put her cup down and glanced at her cellphone on the counter.
No calls yet.
Damn it, Henry was going to make her call him wasn’t he? It would be a very Henry like thing to do. He always had been a bit of coward when it came to fighting her on anything.
She and Henry were getting a divorce. The reality of that fact washed over her.
“God,” she breathed. Why was it that whenever Andy’s life changed, it happened in huge shifts all at once, instead of in increments? Was that normal? Maybe it was just her. She really didn’t know.
She should drop by the gallery for a few hours today, see how sales were going and check up on Gisele since she was now in charge of running the gallery till Andy hired a new ‘Lily’. She’d have to look for one and soon.
Andy couldn’t understand Lily’s reasoning for sleeping with Henry. But then she’d never understood how anyone could be unfaithful in a relationship, love or no love. She’d thought she and Henry had had it pretty good. That they’d reached a point in their lives where, ok, admittedly they didn’t love each other, not in the traditional way, but they were friends and good partners. Most of the time.
Even though it was true Henry got on Andy’s nerves quite often. But he’d chosen to break their agreement and at the same time, break her trust.
It was almost ironic to think that if Henry had actually talked to Andy about wanting to have a lover, or openly chosen to separate himself from her cleanly, things would have undoubtedly been different. She might have forgiven him for leaving her. She might even have considered letting him have a lover while remaining married…if they hadn’t had a child involved.
But as things stood now, he’d been sleazy about the whole ordeal. He’d chosen the worst partner, and if Andy was being completely honest with herself, the most clichéd one as well. If only he’d been honest with her… They might have stayed friends.
It was the secrecy and the trust broken between them that Andy resented most. They’d had a child together for Christ’s sake. They were having another one despite having taken precautions. Had he even thought about what his adultery would do to Andy and the baby?
She glanced at her phone again. She was going to have to call him. It had been two days after all.
He needed new clothes and she was ready for him to get out of the flat. Seeing his belongings everywhere only made it more difficult for Andy to think of anything but the impending divorce or her past.
She picked up the phone and called Henry’s cell.
He picked up.
“Hello Andy.” He sounded apprehensive. With good reason. Andy nearly snorted.
“Hello…” There was an awkward pause. Was there still room for politeness in the shred of their relationship? “You should come by to pick up your things. I’ll be at the gallery for a while. It would be best if you came while I am not here.” she said.
“Yes, alright, I’ll do that…Andy I am sorry-” he tried to say.
“Henry. Please.” She cut him off. She couldn’t hear his apologies right now. Not when she knew his sentiment would probably be a lie. “We’ve been through so much together I-” she paused and took steadying breath. “It’s been going on for a while then?” She asked.
“A few months now. Since before you found out about the baby. I swear Andy I wouldn’t have started it if I’d know there would be another child.” He said, his voice sounded pained. “Andy, I love her.”
“Ah.” She said. “I see.” And she did.
That explained everything. He was in love. The one thing Andy had never been able to give him.
It all made sense now.
“Well then. All the more reason for you to move out. Henry I’ll be back at the flat around five. Do you think you’ll have the time to get most of your things out by then?” She tried to sound professional. She even went so far as to use her ‘board room’voice. It was just a shade shy of authoritative but it demanded obedience. It was the one she’d learned from her father, while she ran the company.
“I- Yes. That will be plenty of time.” he sounded shocked by how cold she was being. Personally she didn’t see the point in being openly volatile towards him. It certainly wouldn’t help the divorce go smoothly if they became hateful towards one another.
“I took the liberty of setting up an appointment with our lawyers at 3pm Saturday.”
Andy quickly went through her mental agenda. “Yes. That’s good then.”
“You aren’t going to enforce the prenup, are you?” Henry dared to ask. Andy gapped at the phone in her hand.
He expected her to let him keep the part of her inheritance her father had created for her to share with her spouse? To continue running the company her father had created? Andy’s heart hardened at his pretentious expectations.
How dare he expect her to forgive him so easily?
“Yes I most certainly am going to enforce the prenup Henry.” She said flatly. She had to keep her cool. She’d learned that fighting fire with fire made more fire while fighting fire with ice put out the barest hint of a flame.
She could almost see Henry wince on the other end of the phone.
“Andy please, c’mon I-”
“No, Henry. You broke our agreement.” She growled. “You violated the prenup and even worse than all that, you broke my trust. The prenup stands. Pick up your things today or I will put them outside the apartment and leave them there for anyone to take. Goodbye Henry.”
“Andy! You can’t-” She hung up, not wanting to hear him plead for her to be more lenient. He most certainly did not deserve it.
The sheer nerve of him! To expect her to relent and allow him to continue making money from her family’s success after betraying her like he had! Love or no, he was sorely mistaken.
Miranda’s words echoed through her mind then, “Andrea, your husband is a fool if he doesn’t see just how lucky, he is to have you for a wife.”
Maybe Miranda was right. Maybe he was a fool. She glared at the phone in her hand trying to stifle the unmitigated outrage she felt towards Henry’s gal.
She sighed and put her dishes in the sink a little too roughly.
She was already dreading Saturday. She would have to call her lawyer to confirm the meeting and get material ready for the fight she’d hoped to avoid.
How could Henry be so stupid? Did he really believe she would soften and let him continue to profit from a family company that rightfully belonged her? He maybe be acting CEO but she was still the main shareholder, despite her lack of involvement for the past couple of years. She had continued to keep herself informed of the company’s progress.
She may not want to run the damn thing but that didn’t mean she’d watch her father’s empire fall apart or even weaken. Not under her watch. Henry’s father had merged his company to Andy’s father’s company after almost going bankrupt.
If Richard Sachs’ hadn’t bought Goldman and Co. as a favour to his long-time friend Charles Goldman, the company would have crashed and Henry’s family would have lost everything. Andy would be damned if she watched Henry continue to profit from something he owned only in name after betraying her trust so blatantly. He was an employee, not an owner. It was time he learned the difference.
Andy checked the time on her phone. 10:23am. She should leave before Henry came to pick his stuff up. She showered and applied some basic makeup before turning to her walk in closet. She chose a cherry red Valentino button-up dress and a sharply cut white overcoat with a black fur trim around the collar*. She paired the look with some chic Gucci sunglasses and Jimmy Choo grey and red pointed heels. She grabbed her turquoise Kate Spade clutch, and called Mark, her driver. Andy refused to drive while pregnant if she could avoid it. She locked the door behind her as she left.
A few minutes later Andy was stepping into her town car, and was on the way to her gallery. She called Gisele from the car. “Hello, Gisele?”
“Yes, Andy?” the French woman replied immediately alert. Andy smirked.
“Yes, I’ll be there in about 30 minutes or so. Can you have this month’s report ready by the time I get there?”
“Yes Andy. It will be ready for you when you walk in the door.” Gisele said. She sounded nervous. Good. She should be. For all Andy knew, Henry had slept with all her female staff members.
“I’ll see you soon.” Andy hung up.
Mark looked at her from the rear-view mirror. He said nothing. But Andy could tell he worried about her. Mark was nearing 60 now and he’d been driving her since she was a teenager still living with her father.
She was tempted to reassure him that she was fine, and for a moment she almost did. But she held back. He may have known her for a long time but he was still an employee. So instead of addressing his concerned glances, she turned to look out the window.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Andy was pleased with the report Gisele had given her as well as how the sales had gone. She’d sold 5 paintings in the last two weeks which was just fine by her.
It wasn’t as though she really needed the money but it was always nice to hear that rich patrons appreciated her work enough to pay her asking prices.
Andy had informed her design team of the situation with Lily and that she no longer worked for her. She asked Gisele to find her possible replacements and call her when she’d narrowed the search down to three candidates that she though Andy might approve of.
She of course complied with Andy’s demands and the whole team expressed sympathy for Andy’s difficult situation with Lily and Henry.
Some were upset by the whole situation. Many had trouble believing Lily would do something like that, while others listened to Andy’s explanation with a grim expression. Had they known? Andy couldn’t help but wonder if they had noticed.
One of Andy’s advertisement personnel in particular, Nate Anderson, who’d been close friends with Lily, was upset by her dismissal.
Andy assured him she would give Lily a reference letter despite the personal nature of the termination of her employment. She wasn’t so cruel as to deprive the stupid woman of a job in the future. She just couldn’t work with her anymore.
He seemed to be somewhat pacified by that. Andy had walked around the gallery and checked on all that needed checking and signed some forms and made a few calls to thank the buyers of her paintings. She’d spent about two hours there in total.
After that, she’d called Mark again. Once in the car she asked him to take her shopping for maternity clothes and other baby necessities. She had time to burn and she needed to do it while she felt she had the strength to look at baby things without collapsing into tears in public. He’d smiled and congratulated her belatedly on her pregnancy. Andy smiled tightly and thanked him for it.
She bought about six or seven different outfits from high end maternity wear retailers and Mark helped her by carrying her bags for her. Andy had protested that she could still handle a few clothing bags but he’d insisted and she’d relented.
When it came to buying a new crib and a few new pieces of furniture for the nursery she did have to take a few deep breaths and fought back tears. She decided to wait to buy baby clothes until she knew what gender the baby would be.
She would likely find out either this appointment or the next. She’d found out at 16 weeks last time that she was having a boy. But this time around was a bit different. They hadn’t been able to tell on her last visit. The baby had been in a position where they couldn’t see anything yet.
Andy and Mark walked out of the store with a few new pieces of furniture and a bunch of bags filled with high-end maternity wear.
As they crossed the automatic doors, Andy saw a mother with a baby carrier strapped around her torso. In the carrier there was a little boy. Andy flinched and felt as though someone had just slapped her. She stopped dead in her tracks and Mark nearly bumped into her.
“Miss Andy, are you alright?” Mark asked, after he’d righted himself. His expression was filled a concern Andy knew was meant kindly, but instead it bothered her for a reason she couldn’t quite identify.
“Y-yes of course. I’m fine. Let’s go.”
Seeing babies was still very hard on Andy.
It was nearly 5 o’clock by the time they got back to her apartment. Andy saw a small truck and a few men putting boxes in it.
She saw Henry step out of the apartment, directing a man to put the box he was holding into the truck. Shit. Henry was still here. Just great.
“Mark, actually would you mind dropping me at the Starbucks a block over? I have a sudden craving for a green tea frappuccino.” Andy said. She’d just thought of it. It seemed a good excuse as any she could come up with. She was not up to facing Henry just yet.
“Of course Miss Andy. It’s no trouble at all. Should I circle the block till you are finished?”
“I’d appreciate it. And…”she hesitated, “Could you give me a call when Henry leaves?”
“Yes, Miss Andy.” He replied, not looking away from the road as he drove to the Starbucks.
“Thank you Mark.”
“You’re very welcome Miss Andy.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was six thirty when Andy finally walked in to her apartment with Mark behind her carrying most of the heavy things they’d bought.
She’d get the building’s handyman to set up the furniture for her sometime after she’d decided on how to redecorate the room. She was going to have think of a colour theme. Maybe after the gender of the baby was established she’d have more ideas.
As if sensing that Andy was thinking about it, the baby kicked a few times. Andy gasped a bit and touched the spots where the baby was kicking. Yep. She could definitely feel it on her hand this time.
Her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“This is Emily Charlton calling for Miranda Priestly,” said the Brit’s voice on the other end of the phone, “I’d like to set up Miranda’s appointments for this week?”
“Yes, what times work best for her?” Andy asked.
“She’s free on Thursday at 5pm and on Sunday at 5:30pm.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“She’ll arrive 15 minutes early.” Emily reminded her.
“Yes, I’m aware. Thank you Emily. Was there anything else?”
“No.” she said curtly.
“Have a nice evening.” Andy said. She hung up before the redhead could reciprocate.
Well then, that was settled. Marina had set out a bowl of spinach linguini which had fried shrimp, artichokes, asparagus and red pepper mixed in. It was scrumptious and she told Marina so before she left. The middle aged Russian woman smiled and thanked her before leaving for the night.
Andy finished her meal and then went to see how different the bedroom looked without Henry’s things in it.
Andy couldn’t help but stare at the now empty parts of the bedroom. The closet had sections that were entirely empty now. Well. That was easily remedied. She hung up all her new outfits in her closet.
The bathroom was a bit bare and she disliked seeing the ‘his and her’ sinks…there was no longer a ‘his’ sink. Just two sinks in one bathroom.
Andy contemplated whether or not her calmness in the face of all the obvious empty spaces in what was now only her flat was normal or if the reality of the situation hadn’t really hit her yet.
She thought it might be a bit of both.
Instead of letting her mind continuously think on it, she went to her studio and picked up her sketch pad. Andy did a few studies of Miranda. She drew Miranda’s expressions, her eyes, her eyebrows, her mouth, her neck, her hands, her hips…Andy lingered on that last one, enjoying the image that kept playing over and over in her mind. Miranda in a pencil skirt, her hips swaying as she walked steadily away from Andy in six inch heels.
Oh yes, Andy could certainly appreciate all of Miranda. From the tips of her perfectly manicured toes to the ends of her snowy white locks, Andy appreciated the almost sharp kind of beauty Miranda represented. She was strong as steel, yet beautiful and delicate too.
She could slice a person’s bluster apart with her words like a well sharpened knife through meat.
The way the corner of her mouth curved up into a predatory smile when she was satisfied with something or feeling smug was somehow endearing to Andy. And her eyes…Miranda’s eyes could either freeze or melt a person’s heart with their ever changing expressions. The lines at the edges of her mouth and the corners of her eyes only added to her beauty for Andy’s artistic eyes.
For the first time Andy wondered about the age difference between her and Miranda and if the fact that she hadn’t even thought about it till now made her strange. Miranda was almost exactly 22 years older than Andy.
Andy chuckled at herself. She hadn’t even noticed it before now.
Andy did a quick google search on her phone to check when exactly Miranda’s birthday was. The 28th of December Miranda would turn 50 this year. She was a Capricorn. Andy herself was a strange zodiac sign. She was born on the 21ist of December. That made her half Sagittarius half Capricorn. Or in other terms, a ‘Sagicorn’. Andy snorted at her own silliness.
Andy was not a spiritual person in any way shape or form but she couldn’t help but see the similarities between the personalities associated with the zodiacs she belonged to and her own personality.
The same apparently held true for Miranda.
Capricorns were notoriously well dressed, slow to trust and very reserved, but when someone managed to gain their trust, they would have a strong, intelligent friend. That seemed to fit Miranda to a ‘T’ in Andy’s mind.
She reminisced about her first time seeing Miranda coming down the steps at the Benefit. Andy had immediately thought she was elegant and remarkably beautiful that evening. Andy could now appreciate the low décolleté of her velvet Valentino evening gown all the more since realising her budding attraction towards the woman. Had that really only been a few weeks ago?
It was still difficult to wrap her mind around her current situation and just how quickly everything had changed. In a matter of weeks, Andy’s entire life had done a 180 degree flip. Or it felt like it had anyway.
Andy leaned back against the sturdy leather armchair she was seated in. She checked the time on her phone. Almost four hours had passed as Andy was drawing Miranda. It was past nine o’clock at night. Andy yawned. She really needed to figure out a way to get into a better sleep pattern.
She felt sleep prick at her eyes and decided to give sleep a chance. She only hoped she could avoid a repeat of last night. Memories were supposed to be good things to have, weren’t they?
Andy wondered if that was really true. For her, she wasn’t entirely sure that it was. Many of her best memories where intertwined with her worst, after all.
As Andy crawled into bed she was once again all too aware of the fact that she was alone in the bed. The baby began to move about, persistently. Andy sighed. If the baby kept that up for long, sleep might not be an option just yet.
She stood up to choose a book from the library on the wall. She picked a well-worn copy of the House of Spirits by Isabel Allende. Her fingers traced the old pages of a book she’d had since she was a teenager. It was one of her favourites. So many things had changed since she’d first read the book and yet the story held within these pages would never fade, never end nor change nor die. ‘A fragile immortality via immovability.’ She mused. Just as Andy’s portraits, if treated properly for all time, would preserve the content it was intended to portray.
Speaking of portraits…She’d see Miranda for a sitting tomorrow. She went back to sit on the bed, book in hand.
‘What will ‘happen’ tomorrow?’ Andy wondered. She supposed something was likely to ‘happen’ again. The ‘incidents’, for lack of a better word, which brought them torturously close to things that were forbidden and that neither of them was truly ready to accept, much less entertain as actual possibilities, seemed to be common occurrence during their sessions.
She closed her eyes, one hand holding the book, the other hand on her stomach, feeling the movement of her child. For once, she allowed herself the luxury of imagining various possibilities for what tomorrow might bring.
She and Miranda were very different women in some aspects, but in others they were quite similar.
They both lived their lives performing a balancing act on the most fragile of tightropes. The line between despair and hope.
Now that Henry, her self-declared safety net, was officially gone, Andy was perilously close to tipping over the edge. Now, as to whether she would tip of the edge of hope or despair… that remained to be seen.
All that was left to do, was wait and see when and where she would fall.
Andy knew she would fall.
She wondered for a moment if she was insane not to simply jump off the line and let what happened afterwards, happen. To let go of everything and allow the darkness she had fought so hard to banish, to swallow her whole again as it had during those terrible months after Ethan’s death. She’d lost her balance then…and she’d somehow regained it through painting.
It would be so easy to just let go once more… But then Miranda would be alone on the line.
No, Andy decided. If she was insane to try and find a balance between idealism and reality, between light and dark, then Miranda must also be just as insane. Being insane alone would certainly only be half as fun.
A ‘folie à deux’ situation. How fitting.
- To be continued-