It's All Relative 6
It’s All Relative (Chapter 6/Continuing) HbH: hawkbehere2@yahoo.com
DWP: 6th chapter of It’s All Relative started with Chapter 1 at www.ralst.com. The scenes in this chapter between the four women are no longer in temporal sync and I know that. (We start at about 4PM with Serena/Emily but we’re still at about 1100AM with Miranda/Andy.) I’ll put them back on the same clock soon, since I hate temporal anomalies, too! In my Alt-Universe, Miranda’s been married only twice Lyrics and song “Do You Really Want Me,” by Salt n Pepa, produced by Hurby Azor. All feedback gobbled greedily.
***
Only minutes after Andy had left, Miranda found herself beginning to fret. Fret in a way she had never done about another person, excepting her children. She wanted Andy back with her; she wanted a visit from her children.
She worked on a puzzle until she heard a quiet knock on the door.
“Yes?”
Wanda opened the door and asked, softly, “Ms. Miranda, could you have a bath now? Or I could help you in the shower."
As Wanda entered the room, Miranda remembered Andy’s manners. “Do you think you might help me into the shower, Wanda?”
“Ah. Si. Si. It would be good for you.” She guided Miranda to a seat on the closed toilet.
“Sit here, please. I will get the bandages to protect your surgeries. Very quick. Just wait.”
“Just so, Wanda. Thank you.”
When Wanda returned, she gently undressed her and placed temporary plastic bandages over Miranda’s scars, both front and back. She started the shower, helped her patient into it and handed her a washcloth and a bar of soap.
“There. Ms. Miranda, wash yourself and tell me if you need help-if you feel weak. Do not be….embarrassed, right? I am here. I will not let you fall. Not on my life.”
Miranda answered as she shampooed her hair, “I know you wouldn’t. You’re too good.”
Tears pricked Wanda’s eyes. “Ms. Miranda. I hope so. I hope I deserve your blessing and I-“
Wanda heard an suddenly exasperated, quiet voice from the other woman, “Wanda, you’re welcome. But I’m sure Andrea told you not to thank me too much. I want to help Juan Carlo but I don’t want to hear about it.”
Silence. Then, she heard Wanda say as she rinsed her hair, “Ah, si. She said so, si.”
As Miranda turned off the water and pulled the curtain back, Wanda immediately covered her with a towel and slightly averted her eyes. “Your Ms. Andy was very specific.”
“Andrea knows me as well as anyone, Wanda. Probably better, actually.”
“As you say, Ms. Miranda. Ms. Andy told me your children will visit soon?”
Miranda smiled, “Yes-with their father.” She glared at Wanda to explain, “my ex-husband.”
“Is good-to see your children, no?”
Miranda considered the question for a few moments. “Yes. I really can’t wait, Wanda.”
Wanda smiled and helped her dress. “Do you need anything else, Ms. Miranda? Some water, ginger-ale?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Wanda, I’d like some water and that puzzle book and my glasses, please.”
As Wanda quickly provided them, Miranda realized the other woman had no idea how very goggle-eyed any of her employees would have been to hear that request framed so politely. She shrugged. Evidently, it didn’t exactly hurt to be polite. Occasionally.
After Wanda had left her sitting in the recline-a-bit, Miranda found that she was…smiling. She could actually be polite and was, actually, an expectant mother. Who knew? Andrea would have, she suspected. Damn her….
****
The sudden jostling of the subway making a stop jolted Andy awake, having fallen asleep almost immediately as she rode home despite the fact Scotty’s cooler didn’t exactly make the softest pillow. Sleeping at a hospital was not only uncomfortable, she never really slept soundly, knowing she might be needed. She looked around her and grinned. As grungy and unkempt as she knew she looked right now or as beautiful as she’d ever felt, you could always trust New York to produce someone dirtier or prettier and, usually, even in the same subway car. In that way, the city was one of the greatest of equalizers. In another way, of course, she thought ruefully, it also meant something else-to stand out here meant you had to really, really stand out. She’d have to talk to Miranda about it.
She felt her breathing tighten. Miranda. It was now not only possible to kiss Miranda, it was actually possible to talk to her and ask advice from her and argue with her, not just do errands for her. And who better to talk to about a career in journalism in New York? Andy grinned again. No one. And no one better to kiss, either. She looked down at her bag, New Yorker she now was, that she’d safely ensconced between her hip and the cooler and the strap of which was firmly wrapped around her wrist. She wanted to whip out her cell phone. Suddenly, she just wanted to tell someone-tell someone what had happened-tell someone she thought she was suddenly and crushingly in love. Talking to someone else would make it seem…real, when it still seemed like a dream.
Lily was out. Lily was still her friend, but a friend who could be a bit too judgmental and stay that way. When Nate had moved to Boston and it’d become virtually immediately apparent their relationship was over, Lily had blamed the split primarily on Andy and on the changes she’d undergone during her tenure at Runway. The fact that Nate had decided to move to Boston, that Nate had decided not to stay geographically close enough to even work on their relationship, didn’t seem to matter. Andy realized, in talking to Lily, who had dated but never seriously for very long, that the woman just didn’t understand that two people, and especially two young people at the beginnings of their careers and lives as adults, could just grow apart. They remained friends, but emotionally distant friends. Not the person to talk to about something just starting.
She had other friends in New York but Doug was her only other obvious choice. Not only had he known her forever and not only did he never, ever repeat a thing you said to him privately, he gave you honest advice. Or an honest ration of ass-kicking if you needed it, which she respected. He was the only person Andy had told about her one-nighter with Christian Thompson. Doug had told her that he was as disappointed in her as she should be with herself and that Nate hadn’t deserved such a betrayal. When Andy had tried to defend herself, Doug had quickly asked her whether she thought, in a thousand years, Nate would have ever done that to her.
Well. Okay. No.
She still remembered what Doug had said next, as if it were yesterday. “So. You were wrong. You should be ashamed of yourself, Andrea. Ashamed, but don’t get down on yourself-it’s over. You can only do better from here. And just in case you’re thinking about developing a case of wild, confessional guilt, I’ll tell you something. No. You should never tell Nate. It would only hurt him, and needlessly, now that it’s over.”
He’d covered her hand with his, “And, Andy, I know the fact you would consider such a thing, much less follow through with it, meant your relationship was already in serious trouble. Blame yourself for your own actions but don’t blame yourself completely for the failure of the relationship. It takes two.”
He patted her hand and took a healthy swig of his drink. “No, don’t do it again. No, I’ll never tell a soul. And, yes, I still love you.”
So. Doug it was.
As soon as she’d reached her stop and had climbed out of the underworld into the street, she dialed Doug’s number and got the standard answer, “Doug’s Pizza.”
She used the code they always used for needing an intensely important conversation. “You can’t see it because it’s daytime-but there’s a fairly urgent Bat Signal in the sky.”
Tension leapt into Doug’s voice, “Jesus! Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m okay-I mean physically, just fine. And I’m on my way home. But I need to talk to you if you have the time. I’ll live if you don’t.”
“Obviously not, if you’re using the Bat Signal.”
“I’ve only had the Earth’s crust break open under my feet-in a really good but scarily unexpected way. Really good but really scary.”
“Fuck me. I’m there. Need lunch?”
“Yes please-and I’ll pay if you front it.”
“Please! Is this worth the price of a pizza?”
Andy laughed, “Actually, every pizza we’ve ever eaten together or apart.”
“One hour, Batman-I mean Batgirl.”
“Thanks, Robin.” As she disconnected, she smiled at absolutely nothing. Friends. Had to love ‘em.
Then she called Scotty Peace. Just because she couldn’t sleep with Miranda tonight didn’t mean they weren’t having another date.
***
As Serena finished her second cello piece, Emily finished her tea, having watched the woman with a mixture of awe and utter bewilderment. Why would this woman take the time for her? Why would anyone like her even-
At this very moment, Serena put down her bow and asked, “Did you enjoy your tea?”
Something odd-but not tears surely, made Emily’s eyes water. “It was perfect, Serena. The tea was beautiful but you played more beautifully.”
The taller woman smiled as she stood, “I actually went to university on a music scholarship. My parents were devastated that I did not stay to play in Brazil. I was recruited, by many companies in many countries, actually.”
“Then why-“
“I love music for music. I didn’t want to make it my work. I have other skills, so I can leave music my dearest love, not something I must visit only because I need a paycheck. Other people feel differently and I thank God and think good for them. But that’s how I feel. I want to be myself and not let my more obvious talents dictate the course of my life.”
Serena stood in front of Emily in her bare feet, jeans and sweatshirt. “I’m going to put on running shoes-you call them trainers, do you not? Will it embarrass you to be seen with me that way?”
Before Emily could answer, Serena added gently, “I think I need to explain something else. Please don’t take this as arrogance, Emily, but I stop traffic no matter what I wear. I’m quite aware that I am what people consider extraordinarily beautiful. Living in this body all of my life, I cannot help but know this.”
She shrugged, “But I also know I did nothing to deserve it. I was born this way. These are my genes and they are a gift and I’m grateful but I try not to think about how I look outside of work. I never want to be just a thing to look at. I want to be a person. I adore fashion as much as you do and accentuate when I wish but I know that I truly need no accentuation. So why be uncomfortable when I can be comfortable?”
Serena smiled down at Emily, “Unless of course you want me to dress up for you. Because, of course, I would. For you.”
Emily was completely confounded. Serena was evidently a superhero using her powers and immense beauty for good. That possibility had never occurred to her. She could think of no answer except, “No. Of course not. You look wonderful-perfect.” Something very serious occurred to Emily at this moment. “I’m so…very shallow, you know…in so many ways. Compared to you, I mean.”
Serena smiled again, leaned down and kissed Emily gently on the cheek. “You are only beginning to know yourself, Emily. I’ve seen that since the moment I met you. You have more depth than you know. And you look delicious today, by the way, my English rose.”
Before Serena could pull away, Emily pulled her back and kissed her on the lips. As Serena stood, she chuckled sweetly, “My, my. You English aren’t as entirely phlegmatic as your reputation suggests, are you?”
Emily sputtered indignantly, “Who calls the English phlegmatic?”
Serena looked deeply charmed. “Only everyone, I believe. But you forget that I have a Romantic language and Romantic blood. We are a very different people.” She caressed Emily’s cheek, “No worries, my beautiful. I like you cool-it makes what heat you show me all the more arresting. I’ll be right back.”
Emily found herself so aroused by this that she covered her eyes with her hands. What the hell was happening to her?
***
Andy’s hair was still wet from her shower when she let Doug into her apartment. They didn’t have to say a word-they were such long-term friends that they didn’t stand on ceremony. Doug pulled down the plates and glasses from Andy’s cabinets and piled pizza onto two plates and poured Sprite into some glasses and brought the pizza box in for reinforcement. As they took their places on Andy’s couch, since she had no actually dining room, Doug took a bite of pizza and said, “Well? Let’s hear it.”
Andy took a bite and chewed it longer than she actually needed to, then said, “Doug, I think I’m in love.”
Doug’s eyes bugged out of his head but he was hungry enough to take another bite and swallow before he said, “With whom? You’re not even dating anybody, And.”
“I am now. I’m dating Miranda Priestly.”
Doug did a double then a treble take, and then he did the best old school Salt-n-Pepa cover she’d ever heard, complete with the head-fake, “HOLD UP, WAIT-A-MINUTE.”
Then they both repeated the lines they always had from years of enjoying the same song:
“Ain't nothin' but tutti-fruity
Get on the floor if ya got that booty”
Andy smiled and then she became, instantly, more serious.
“I know. I know. It was like this….”
She hesitated for one moment. Even before he’d arrived at her apartment, Andy had made her run through of what would be too personal to tell him. Things that were too precious to her. Nothing about endearments, nothing about their expressions of their feelings. Yes to a kiss or two or five and yes to the whole ‘date thing.’
As she continued and told him the expurgated story, he thoughtfully attempted to eat his pizza without choking on it. His friend was serious. What could he say?
“Andy-you do know this is the fashion diva of the entire world. The most important fashion person on Planet Earth?”
“You think I don’t know that? And far better than even you do at this point?”
“So why would she-“
Andy’s eyes narrowed, “You mean, why would someone like Miranda Priestly care about me?”
Doug settled himself into the couch, shamed by his assumptions and realizing he didn’t know one thing about what Miranda would do or feel. He looked into Andy’s eyes. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because someone needs you because she’s in a bad situation.”
Andy nodded. “It’s not like that, Doug. It’s lovely.”
“Does she feel the same?”
Andy took a sip of her Sprite and said, “I think so.”
As if in answer, Andy’s cell made a hellish squawk. Andy looked at the screen and answered, “Yes, Miranda?”
“My children aren’t here yet; you aren’t here. I hate everything.”
“I know. Did Wanda help you with a bath?”
“She helped me with a shower, thank you.”
“That’s great-that’s real progress.”
“Thank you. But it doesn’t answer my question.”
“Did you ask one?”
“I’m alone.”
“Not for long, sweetheart. Your family will be there soon and I’m bringing you more Scotty food for dinner.”
There was a long pause. “Then you have a pass-who’s there with you? I can feel you’re not alone.”
Andy had almost forgotten Miranda was scary that way. “My best friend Doug.”
“Well, best regards-but is he safe? For us, I mean? And you’re coming later, no?”
“He’s a vault. My best pal. And of course I’m coming to see you. Always, Miranda.”
“I can’t wait to see you. Don’t repeat that. It’s only for us.”
“So it is. But it’s entirely mutual. See you soon.”
As she clapped her phone shut, she said to Doug, “See?”
Doug grabbed another piece of pizza and replied, “Day-umm. You’re dating Miranda effin’ Priestly”
Andy felt like giggling but only smiled tenderly. “I am. Isn’t that great?”
Doug had never seen this look on his friend’s face and they’d known each other since high school. “Girl, I think you’re in love.”
“I think I am, too.”
“You’re sure it’s mutual?”
Andy thought over the past 24 hours and it was obvious. “Absolutely, Doug. I can’t tell you why-because it’s very private but absolutely.”
Doug brought up his last two possible objections, “You’re straight, Andy, and she’s twice your age.”
“And your point is? You’d sleep with her in two seconds flat and you’re gay.”
Doug blushed because it was entirely too true and lifted his glass of Sprite. “To love, then.”
“To love.”
They tapped their glasses of Sprite.
Doug shook his head as he grabbed another piece of pizza. “I’m so fucking impressed. And jealous.”
Andy smiled, “Well, if things go well, you’ll be getting to know her.”
He sighed, “I just knew there was a gay heaven.”
***
“So what film are we going to see, Serena?”
“We’re going to a Kieślowski retrospective-you know "Trois Couleurs: Rouge? You speak French, no?”
Emily glared at her. “Bien sur, Serena. He’s my favorite director and I love that film.”
“Ah-see? You’re not so shallow after all, are you? Do you mind seeing it again?”
“No. It’s my favorite film ever.”
“Mine as well. I suppose we’re fated….to at least eat popcorn together.”
“Obviously.”
As they left Emily’s apartment, she didn’t mind so much that this goddess chose to hold her hand as they strolled along. Who cared? Right? Who cared?
No one evidently. As they walked toward the theater Emily realized that a tall glamazon with a comparatively pretty person in tow didn’t attract much more attention than anyone else in New York.
Serena insisted on buying the tickets and the refreshments. She also insisted on buying jumbo drinks and a large popcorn with extra butter.
As Emily nearly had a fit beside her, Serena said, “We could be hit by a car tomorrow-you already have been-that was the first of my little anxieties about you. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
They munched on the popcorn for a few moments into the movie and then Serena took Emily’s hand. They continued eating and watching the movie until the very end. And then for a few moments after the credits were running, Serena leaned into Emily’s ear and said, “I want you, my darling. It won’t be tonight, but God or life or Fate has placed us together, do you not think so?”
Emily could only manage a strangled, “Yes.”
They watched the rest of the credits, with Emily wanting to explode. And then Serena kissed her, quite tenderly, a buttery, popcorn-flavored kiss. And as Emily relaxed into the bliss of Serena’s lips, she found she didn’t even care who saw them.
****
4PM
What was life, Miranda thought, but a series of disappointing postponements? Waiting for Andrea, waiting for her children. Waiting for perfection at Runway.
Was this true? It seemed true. Was she wrong?
She worked her puzzle with ferocity and knew she hoped, to her embarrassment, that someone she loved would come to see her soon. Her! She loved her privacy. Guarded it like a pit-bull. And yet only her girls would help. They would help but she was nearly ashamed to admit to herself only Andrea would really help. She wanted her Andy. And no one else could help.
How could this happen? To her? She shook her head. And now that it had, how could it not happen? She felt something turning in her heart. She had made the exception with her children, which she assumed was entirely natural. But Andrea? How could she reconcile this with her vision of herself? She could be a mother to her children. But to allow another person so deeply into her life. How? She took a deep breath, realizing that she did not care. She would submit. Submit completely to this feeling. And, with this decision, she felt a deep, calming and blissful peace. So there, she thought to herself, filling in the last two numbers in her Sudoku puzzle.
So there.
***
Dr. Susan Allen knocked and entered. “Ms. Priestly, may I examine you?” The doctor had quickly realized asking politely was the golden ticket.
“Of course.”
As Dr. Allen assessed Miranda’s wounds, then her thoracic capacity, she also evaluated her pain. “Your wounds are healing well and you sound good, Ms. Priestly. I think you can go home tomorrow.”
“Excellent-when can I get back to work?”
“Not until next week.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
Dr. Allen was a Texan, a true and earthy Texan, and as such was congenial with high-powered patients but no pushover. “I’m the doctor, Ms. Priestly. You’re not. I wouldn’t think of trying to edit a magazine because that’s not my field of expertise. Medicine is. So don’t tell me what’s acceptable. That’s the status of your condition.”
“But-“
“But nothing, Ms. Priestly. You can tell me about Zac Posen’s line this season. Feel free. But you have no right to tell me what I know is good practice for my patient-and you’re my patient.”
Miranda counted to ten, realizing she’d met one of the incredibly few people who could and would fight her with good reason. “Very well. I can go home tomorrow and work from there, can I not?”
“After two days of continued bed rest, certainly. That means Wednesday at the very earliest.”
“My schedule cannot possibly-“
“What? Include its editor being shot? Excuse my language but tough shit. Let it be a growth experience for them. And I must say, if your magazine can’t do without you for two days, you’re not much of a manager.”
Whoa, Nelly!! Dr. Allen had rarely seen someone’s blood pressure rise right in front of her, but this was one of those times. Miranda was nearly apoplectic. Before the woman could explode, Dr. Allen said, “Let’s call it like it is. You’re angry because I’m right. But let me correct myself. I don’t think you’re a bad manager. I think you’re probably such a good manager that your magazine can hold on without you for a couple of days. You’re just a perfectionist and don’t want to let go of the reins.”
Miranda glared at her and Dr. Allen saw why everyone was so afraid of her. Jesus, with that look, the woman should be able to turn you into stone. She watched Miranda forcing herself to relax, forcing herself not to care, until she finally said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Fine.”
“Good. One other suggestion. I think you need someone to help you at home for a couple of days, not to mention keep an eye on you. I would suggest a nurse’s assistant.” Her eyes sparkled, “Something about you tells me you might not comply with my instructions.”
Miranda snorted, “Please! Compliance is my middle name.”
“And I’m the Queen of Arabia. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Ms. Priestly.”
Miranda bowed her head. “Very well. I’ll do as you say….damn you.”
“Now, that’s the Miranda Priestly I’ve heard about. Good for you! Being feisty and bitchy will have you on your feet and ready to go to work in no time. Meaning next week. Do you hear me? Get someone to take care of you properly or you’ll leave this hospital AMA.”
“I understand.”
“I knew you would. You have a reputation for intelligence.”
Miranda glared at her again, “If you don’t watch yourself, Dr. Allen, I’ll either fire you or like you.”
The doctor smiled, “God help me in either case.”
“Exactly. Get out of here. I need to call my next of kin.”
Before the doctor could leave, Miranda said, “Dr. Allen?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Allen winked at her and said, “Wow. I’m going to go buy me a lottery ticket. Obviously, I’m on a roll.”
“Out!”
Dr. Allen snickered as she left and Miranda called John, who was already on his way with their children.
Miranda rang for the nurses’ desk.
There was a delay and a squawk, “Yes? How can we help you?”
“May I see Wanda, please.”
“We’ll let her know.”
It took a few minutes before Wanda appeared in Miranda’s room. “Ms. Miranda-do you need something?”
“I believe you said something about being off for the next three days.”
“Si, Ms. Miranda. I work 12 hour shifts, like the nurses, four days on and three days off.”
“I know this will make a long two weeks for you but how would you like to work for me for me until Wednesday? I’m going home tomorrow and Dr. Allen said I need help, although of course, it’s ridiculous.”
Wanda hesitated for a few moments, unsure what to say.
“What do they pay you hourly, Wanda?”
Wanda told her and, as Andy had predicted, Miranda was scandalized.
“I’ll pay you ten times that if you will help me.”
“Ten times? Oh no, Ms. Miranda. I am not worth so much. And the taxes? No, but thank you.”
“You are worth it to me, Wanda. As far as the taxes are concerned, pay them and I’ll pay you back in cash. And we may as well get to know each other because you and your family will be part of my life for years. Don’t you think?”
Wanda relaxed a bit and then asked, yet again, “Why would God bless me so?”
“There’s an easy answer. You’re worth it. And I’m sure Andrea told you that you'll bring Juan Carlo to me for a visit soon.”
Wanda smiled eagerly, “Si-to put the fear of God into him. Good for a child, I think.”
“Good for everyone, I think.”
***
When the twins arrived, they hugged her gently, as they’d been directed to do by their father. John was delighted to see his former wife looking so much like herself, both for her and for the girls.
Caroline and Cassidy sat on the chairs that Wanda had brought in for their visit and John sat on the bed.
Caroline was shyly but incredibly inquisitive, “So….Mom-how does it feel to get shot?”
Cassidy was horrified and popped her sister on the arm with her hand but Miranda ignored this, “It’s very shocking-and it hurts-and that’s about it.”
Caroline continued, “Was there lots of blood?”
“Jesus H. Christ, Car” Cassidy said, in a huff.
Miranda winked at Cassidy in sympathy before answering, “I believe there was-on me and the carpet but more on Emily, who saved me.”
“Who cares about that stuff?” Cassidy said as she jumped up and hugged Miranda, “We’re so glad you’re okay, Mommy.”
Caroline followed suit and Miranda hugged them both, looking over two strawberry blonde heads to their father, who was quite amused. But for only a moment. “Girls, a nice hug is fine but let her go-she’s had surgery.”
As her daughters reluctantly released her and sat down, Caroline continued her interrogation. “Dad says Andy’s been staying with you.”
Honestly and God bless her, Miranda thought, this girl was headed for The Enquirer. “Yes, darling, she has been.”
“Why’s that? She doesn’t work for you anymore.”
Cassidy huffed again, “Honest to Pete, Car, give it a rest.”
This, Miranda knew, was something of a bluff. Caroline always asked the questions both sisters wanted the answers to but Caroline had no tact. Cassidy did. Cassidy would have ferreted out the same information but in an infinitely more subtle way.
So. Why? She looked at John and he jumped into the fray. “Girls, sometimes you meet people and you feel like you could be friends and sometimes not. What’s hard is when you meet someone you’d like to be friends with and that person works for you. That makes friendship inappropriate. It would make people think you liked them more than the other workers or cut them some slack on the job. You just can’t do it. So, now that Andy’s not working for your mom anymore, they can be friends. See what I mean?”
The girls nodded in twin unison. “So you’re saying Andy’s your friend now?” Caroline said, unrelenting.
“Yes, darling. Andrea is my friend-and she’s been very helpful and kind to me.”
Cassidy, a canny girl with a poker face, said, “I think we should have her over to dinner when you get better, Mommy.”
Miranda glanced at Cassidy, who looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But having seen and felt that look on her own face maybe more than 10,000 times in only the past five years, Miranda only smiled sweetly. “What a wonderful idea, Cassidy.”
Miranda and John still had a sort of telepathy that friends of two decades, lovers and ex-spouses have-a telepathy of facial expressions.
She shot him a look that said, *Where the hell did we get these two?*
And his answering look said, *Don’t ask me. They’re certainly yours-the paternity I can’t vouch for.*
*Oh no, you don’t-they’re yours and you know it-you bastard.*
*Aww...I love you, Mir.*
*Fuck you…darling.*
And then they beamed at each other.
The girls were aware their parents were looking at each other in the weird way they sometimes did, but they’d found out long ago they’d never understand it.
Miranda smiled at her family, and despite the fact she and John could no longer live together, they were still all a family. For the second time that day, she felt a bliss and peace she only associated with her family and, now, with Andrea. She smirked when she thought what that might mean for their future.
***
Andy arrived soon after, bearing the latest Scotty Peace offering. She smiled as she unburdened herself of her cooler, then crossed to shake hands with and greet John. She said, “Hi, Caroline, hi Cassidy.”
Both twins were impressed she knew the difference between them but only Caroline asked, “How’d you know who’s who?”
Andy shrugged, “It used to be my job to know and now it’s sorta obvious.” She then kissed Miranda squarely on the cheek, which rather surprised the girls, who were not used to people having the audacity to touch their mother.
But their mother did not look displeased. Rather the opposite. In fact, she looked suddenly more energized and radiant. John noticed this, as well.
Interesting, he thought.
Interesting if it was what it looked like it might be. But good for her, if that were true. Good for her. He’d remarried years ago and had watched with dismay the disaster of Stephen, who’d never been a match for his tempestuous Miranda. She would always be a part of him-as he would always be a part of her. Their long history, love for each other and their children made this an adamantine relationship. Apart but always, in some essential way, together. And he was proud of the effort they’d both made to make this true.
“So, Andrea, what do you have for me?”
“That’s a secret, Miranda. I’ll go get some coffee while you guys visit.”
John jumped up-“Nope-no bother, we need to get going, girls. You’re mom’s coming home tomorrow. Let’s not tire her out.”
The girls leapt up and hugged and kissed their mother. John kissed her cheek and then patted Andy as he said, “Take care of our girl.”
The look in the man’s eye complicity suggested an understanding she hadn’t expected. “Will do. And my pleasure, John.”
***
As her family left and the door finally closed Miranda whispered, “For God’s sake, come kiss me-right now.”
Andy was happy to comply, though briefly. As she stood, she said, “Longer kisses, hour-long kisses are in our future-we just have to get you home. And speaking of home,” she said with delight, “tomorrow, huh?”
“Yes-and I’ve conscripted poor Wanda to take care of me for two days.” She told Andy the rest of the story before they plowed into yet another exquisite meal.
“I’m so excited, Miranda-so glad you’re okay.”
“Cassidy said you’d have to come to dinner soon.”
The tone of Miranda’s voice gave Andy pause, “Did she, now.”
“Yes-I believe she thinks that ‘something’s up’”
“Well, something is up, isn’t it?”
“Very definitely.”
They finished dinner speaking perfectly amicably about the day’s events.
Miranda, of course, noted that Andy had worn True Religion jeans today, as well as Christian Louboutin flats. But she was still wearing a large white man’s button down shirt, with something she could just barely identify under it.
As Andy cleared their plates for another game of UNO, she unbuttoned two buttons on her shirt.
There. Ah. That was it. It was a dark Marc Jacobs sheath that accentuated the breasts of the wearer because it was impossible to wear a bra beneath it.
Miranda closed her eyes and opened them and sniffed before saying, “Did you feel that you needed to distract me to win at a card game?”
Andy smiled as she shuffled the cards. “Oh? Is this a distraction? I’m sorry. Want me to button up?”
Miranda’s face was pink. “No, Unbutton. More. Two more buttons.”
Andy complied and pulled the button down aside, so that Miranda could more easily view what she’d exposed.
As she dealt, Andy said casually. “You might notice how hard my nipples are right now, Miranda.”
She looked up, “Do you?”
Miranda nodded.
“I’m not cold, Miranda. Your eyes are enough. Even the idea of your looking at my breasts is enough.”
And then, suddenly, there was a look in Miranda’s eyes that Andy had never seen before, although she’d thought she’d catalogued every possible permutation of Miranda’s expressions.
“And so now you’re teasing me with your beautiful breasts, your perfectly gorgeous breasts?” Miranda leaned back and looked at Andy over her half glasses. “You’re so pink, Andrea. You’re so young and, although you may not imagine so, in your heart of hearts, you still think of yourself as a girl. You’re not a virgin but you’re still so virginal. In your mind, you still feel like a virgin girl. And, believe it or not, it shows. To a person of discernment, that is. And I’m nothing if not discerning.”
She sat forward and her voice had the cool, commanding tone that had always sent shivers through Andy, “I promise you, that when I’m well and when we finally do what we are so obviously going to do with each other, you will never feel virginal again and you’ll definitely be a woman.”
The look in Miranda’s eye left as quickly as it had appeared. “Ready to play?”
Andy was scarlet-from what she knew not. Embarrassment? Anticipation? She made a motion to button her shirt but Miranda spoke sharply, “Absolutely not. Don’t cover what you wanted to show me. Besides, that visual distraction may give you a fighting chance in our UNO.”
Finally, Andy smiled through her crimson blushing, “Fuck you, Miranda.”
“Yes. I believe you will be doing just that. But I’ll go first in that endeavor. Believe me. Age before beauty.”
Andy hadn’t realized that she might have problems with blood pressure but she felt the blood pounding in her ears.
As if Miranda could understand what she was thinking she said, “Oh, come here, silly. Lean forward.”
Andy did so and Miranda gently applied her iced glass of water to each of Andy’s cheeks, which felt heavenly.
“Closer, Andy, my love.”
As Andy leaned closer, Miranda leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. “I’m older than you are, as we both know. I enjoy, even adore, your teasing but don’t think I won’t tease right back.”
“Message received.”
Miranda laughed and took up her cards. Andy looked at hers.
After looking over her cards, Miranda pronounced a verdict, “You’re mine, Sachs.”
Andy rolled her eyes without taking her eyes from her hand, “As if I didn’t know that.”
NEXT CHAPTER
DWP: 6th chapter of It’s All Relative started with Chapter 1 at www.ralst.com. The scenes in this chapter between the four women are no longer in temporal sync and I know that. (We start at about 4PM with Serena/Emily but we’re still at about 1100AM with Miranda/Andy.) I’ll put them back on the same clock soon, since I hate temporal anomalies, too! In my Alt-Universe, Miranda’s been married only twice Lyrics and song “Do You Really Want Me,” by Salt n Pepa, produced by Hurby Azor. All feedback gobbled greedily.
***
Only minutes after Andy had left, Miranda found herself beginning to fret. Fret in a way she had never done about another person, excepting her children. She wanted Andy back with her; she wanted a visit from her children.
She worked on a puzzle until she heard a quiet knock on the door.
“Yes?”
Wanda opened the door and asked, softly, “Ms. Miranda, could you have a bath now? Or I could help you in the shower."
As Wanda entered the room, Miranda remembered Andy’s manners. “Do you think you might help me into the shower, Wanda?”
“Ah. Si. Si. It would be good for you.” She guided Miranda to a seat on the closed toilet.
“Sit here, please. I will get the bandages to protect your surgeries. Very quick. Just wait.”
“Just so, Wanda. Thank you.”
When Wanda returned, she gently undressed her and placed temporary plastic bandages over Miranda’s scars, both front and back. She started the shower, helped her patient into it and handed her a washcloth and a bar of soap.
“There. Ms. Miranda, wash yourself and tell me if you need help-if you feel weak. Do not be….embarrassed, right? I am here. I will not let you fall. Not on my life.”
Miranda answered as she shampooed her hair, “I know you wouldn’t. You’re too good.”
Tears pricked Wanda’s eyes. “Ms. Miranda. I hope so. I hope I deserve your blessing and I-“
Wanda heard an suddenly exasperated, quiet voice from the other woman, “Wanda, you’re welcome. But I’m sure Andrea told you not to thank me too much. I want to help Juan Carlo but I don’t want to hear about it.”
Silence. Then, she heard Wanda say as she rinsed her hair, “Ah, si. She said so, si.”
As Miranda turned off the water and pulled the curtain back, Wanda immediately covered her with a towel and slightly averted her eyes. “Your Ms. Andy was very specific.”
“Andrea knows me as well as anyone, Wanda. Probably better, actually.”
“As you say, Ms. Miranda. Ms. Andy told me your children will visit soon?”
Miranda smiled, “Yes-with their father.” She glared at Wanda to explain, “my ex-husband.”
“Is good-to see your children, no?”
Miranda considered the question for a few moments. “Yes. I really can’t wait, Wanda.”
Wanda smiled and helped her dress. “Do you need anything else, Ms. Miranda? Some water, ginger-ale?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Wanda, I’d like some water and that puzzle book and my glasses, please.”
As Wanda quickly provided them, Miranda realized the other woman had no idea how very goggle-eyed any of her employees would have been to hear that request framed so politely. She shrugged. Evidently, it didn’t exactly hurt to be polite. Occasionally.
After Wanda had left her sitting in the recline-a-bit, Miranda found that she was…smiling. She could actually be polite and was, actually, an expectant mother. Who knew? Andrea would have, she suspected. Damn her….
****
The sudden jostling of the subway making a stop jolted Andy awake, having fallen asleep almost immediately as she rode home despite the fact Scotty’s cooler didn’t exactly make the softest pillow. Sleeping at a hospital was not only uncomfortable, she never really slept soundly, knowing she might be needed. She looked around her and grinned. As grungy and unkempt as she knew she looked right now or as beautiful as she’d ever felt, you could always trust New York to produce someone dirtier or prettier and, usually, even in the same subway car. In that way, the city was one of the greatest of equalizers. In another way, of course, she thought ruefully, it also meant something else-to stand out here meant you had to really, really stand out. She’d have to talk to Miranda about it.
She felt her breathing tighten. Miranda. It was now not only possible to kiss Miranda, it was actually possible to talk to her and ask advice from her and argue with her, not just do errands for her. And who better to talk to about a career in journalism in New York? Andy grinned again. No one. And no one better to kiss, either. She looked down at her bag, New Yorker she now was, that she’d safely ensconced between her hip and the cooler and the strap of which was firmly wrapped around her wrist. She wanted to whip out her cell phone. Suddenly, she just wanted to tell someone-tell someone what had happened-tell someone she thought she was suddenly and crushingly in love. Talking to someone else would make it seem…real, when it still seemed like a dream.
Lily was out. Lily was still her friend, but a friend who could be a bit too judgmental and stay that way. When Nate had moved to Boston and it’d become virtually immediately apparent their relationship was over, Lily had blamed the split primarily on Andy and on the changes she’d undergone during her tenure at Runway. The fact that Nate had decided to move to Boston, that Nate had decided not to stay geographically close enough to even work on their relationship, didn’t seem to matter. Andy realized, in talking to Lily, who had dated but never seriously for very long, that the woman just didn’t understand that two people, and especially two young people at the beginnings of their careers and lives as adults, could just grow apart. They remained friends, but emotionally distant friends. Not the person to talk to about something just starting.
She had other friends in New York but Doug was her only other obvious choice. Not only had he known her forever and not only did he never, ever repeat a thing you said to him privately, he gave you honest advice. Or an honest ration of ass-kicking if you needed it, which she respected. He was the only person Andy had told about her one-nighter with Christian Thompson. Doug had told her that he was as disappointed in her as she should be with herself and that Nate hadn’t deserved such a betrayal. When Andy had tried to defend herself, Doug had quickly asked her whether she thought, in a thousand years, Nate would have ever done that to her.
Well. Okay. No.
She still remembered what Doug had said next, as if it were yesterday. “So. You were wrong. You should be ashamed of yourself, Andrea. Ashamed, but don’t get down on yourself-it’s over. You can only do better from here. And just in case you’re thinking about developing a case of wild, confessional guilt, I’ll tell you something. No. You should never tell Nate. It would only hurt him, and needlessly, now that it’s over.”
He’d covered her hand with his, “And, Andy, I know the fact you would consider such a thing, much less follow through with it, meant your relationship was already in serious trouble. Blame yourself for your own actions but don’t blame yourself completely for the failure of the relationship. It takes two.”
He patted her hand and took a healthy swig of his drink. “No, don’t do it again. No, I’ll never tell a soul. And, yes, I still love you.”
So. Doug it was.
As soon as she’d reached her stop and had climbed out of the underworld into the street, she dialed Doug’s number and got the standard answer, “Doug’s Pizza.”
She used the code they always used for needing an intensely important conversation. “You can’t see it because it’s daytime-but there’s a fairly urgent Bat Signal in the sky.”
Tension leapt into Doug’s voice, “Jesus! Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m okay-I mean physically, just fine. And I’m on my way home. But I need to talk to you if you have the time. I’ll live if you don’t.”
“Obviously not, if you’re using the Bat Signal.”
“I’ve only had the Earth’s crust break open under my feet-in a really good but scarily unexpected way. Really good but really scary.”
“Fuck me. I’m there. Need lunch?”
“Yes please-and I’ll pay if you front it.”
“Please! Is this worth the price of a pizza?”
Andy laughed, “Actually, every pizza we’ve ever eaten together or apart.”
“One hour, Batman-I mean Batgirl.”
“Thanks, Robin.” As she disconnected, she smiled at absolutely nothing. Friends. Had to love ‘em.
Then she called Scotty Peace. Just because she couldn’t sleep with Miranda tonight didn’t mean they weren’t having another date.
***
As Serena finished her second cello piece, Emily finished her tea, having watched the woman with a mixture of awe and utter bewilderment. Why would this woman take the time for her? Why would anyone like her even-
At this very moment, Serena put down her bow and asked, “Did you enjoy your tea?”
Something odd-but not tears surely, made Emily’s eyes water. “It was perfect, Serena. The tea was beautiful but you played more beautifully.”
The taller woman smiled as she stood, “I actually went to university on a music scholarship. My parents were devastated that I did not stay to play in Brazil. I was recruited, by many companies in many countries, actually.”
“Then why-“
“I love music for music. I didn’t want to make it my work. I have other skills, so I can leave music my dearest love, not something I must visit only because I need a paycheck. Other people feel differently and I thank God and think good for them. But that’s how I feel. I want to be myself and not let my more obvious talents dictate the course of my life.”
Serena stood in front of Emily in her bare feet, jeans and sweatshirt. “I’m going to put on running shoes-you call them trainers, do you not? Will it embarrass you to be seen with me that way?”
Before Emily could answer, Serena added gently, “I think I need to explain something else. Please don’t take this as arrogance, Emily, but I stop traffic no matter what I wear. I’m quite aware that I am what people consider extraordinarily beautiful. Living in this body all of my life, I cannot help but know this.”
She shrugged, “But I also know I did nothing to deserve it. I was born this way. These are my genes and they are a gift and I’m grateful but I try not to think about how I look outside of work. I never want to be just a thing to look at. I want to be a person. I adore fashion as much as you do and accentuate when I wish but I know that I truly need no accentuation. So why be uncomfortable when I can be comfortable?”
Serena smiled down at Emily, “Unless of course you want me to dress up for you. Because, of course, I would. For you.”
Emily was completely confounded. Serena was evidently a superhero using her powers and immense beauty for good. That possibility had never occurred to her. She could think of no answer except, “No. Of course not. You look wonderful-perfect.” Something very serious occurred to Emily at this moment. “I’m so…very shallow, you know…in so many ways. Compared to you, I mean.”
Serena smiled again, leaned down and kissed Emily gently on the cheek. “You are only beginning to know yourself, Emily. I’ve seen that since the moment I met you. You have more depth than you know. And you look delicious today, by the way, my English rose.”
Before Serena could pull away, Emily pulled her back and kissed her on the lips. As Serena stood, she chuckled sweetly, “My, my. You English aren’t as entirely phlegmatic as your reputation suggests, are you?”
Emily sputtered indignantly, “Who calls the English phlegmatic?”
Serena looked deeply charmed. “Only everyone, I believe. But you forget that I have a Romantic language and Romantic blood. We are a very different people.” She caressed Emily’s cheek, “No worries, my beautiful. I like you cool-it makes what heat you show me all the more arresting. I’ll be right back.”
Emily found herself so aroused by this that she covered her eyes with her hands. What the hell was happening to her?
***
Andy’s hair was still wet from her shower when she let Doug into her apartment. They didn’t have to say a word-they were such long-term friends that they didn’t stand on ceremony. Doug pulled down the plates and glasses from Andy’s cabinets and piled pizza onto two plates and poured Sprite into some glasses and brought the pizza box in for reinforcement. As they took their places on Andy’s couch, since she had no actually dining room, Doug took a bite of pizza and said, “Well? Let’s hear it.”
Andy took a bite and chewed it longer than she actually needed to, then said, “Doug, I think I’m in love.”
Doug’s eyes bugged out of his head but he was hungry enough to take another bite and swallow before he said, “With whom? You’re not even dating anybody, And.”
“I am now. I’m dating Miranda Priestly.”
Doug did a double then a treble take, and then he did the best old school Salt-n-Pepa cover she’d ever heard, complete with the head-fake, “HOLD UP, WAIT-A-MINUTE.”
Then they both repeated the lines they always had from years of enjoying the same song:
“Ain't nothin' but tutti-fruity
Get on the floor if ya got that booty”
Andy smiled and then she became, instantly, more serious.
“I know. I know. It was like this….”
She hesitated for one moment. Even before he’d arrived at her apartment, Andy had made her run through of what would be too personal to tell him. Things that were too precious to her. Nothing about endearments, nothing about their expressions of their feelings. Yes to a kiss or two or five and yes to the whole ‘date thing.’
As she continued and told him the expurgated story, he thoughtfully attempted to eat his pizza without choking on it. His friend was serious. What could he say?
“Andy-you do know this is the fashion diva of the entire world. The most important fashion person on Planet Earth?”
“You think I don’t know that? And far better than even you do at this point?”
“So why would she-“
Andy’s eyes narrowed, “You mean, why would someone like Miranda Priestly care about me?”
Doug settled himself into the couch, shamed by his assumptions and realizing he didn’t know one thing about what Miranda would do or feel. He looked into Andy’s eyes. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because someone needs you because she’s in a bad situation.”
Andy nodded. “It’s not like that, Doug. It’s lovely.”
“Does she feel the same?”
Andy took a sip of her Sprite and said, “I think so.”
As if in answer, Andy’s cell made a hellish squawk. Andy looked at the screen and answered, “Yes, Miranda?”
“My children aren’t here yet; you aren’t here. I hate everything.”
“I know. Did Wanda help you with a bath?”
“She helped me with a shower, thank you.”
“That’s great-that’s real progress.”
“Thank you. But it doesn’t answer my question.”
“Did you ask one?”
“I’m alone.”
“Not for long, sweetheart. Your family will be there soon and I’m bringing you more Scotty food for dinner.”
There was a long pause. “Then you have a pass-who’s there with you? I can feel you’re not alone.”
Andy had almost forgotten Miranda was scary that way. “My best friend Doug.”
“Well, best regards-but is he safe? For us, I mean? And you’re coming later, no?”
“He’s a vault. My best pal. And of course I’m coming to see you. Always, Miranda.”
“I can’t wait to see you. Don’t repeat that. It’s only for us.”
“So it is. But it’s entirely mutual. See you soon.”
As she clapped her phone shut, she said to Doug, “See?”
Doug grabbed another piece of pizza and replied, “Day-umm. You’re dating Miranda effin’ Priestly”
Andy felt like giggling but only smiled tenderly. “I am. Isn’t that great?”
Doug had never seen this look on his friend’s face and they’d known each other since high school. “Girl, I think you’re in love.”
“I think I am, too.”
“You’re sure it’s mutual?”
Andy thought over the past 24 hours and it was obvious. “Absolutely, Doug. I can’t tell you why-because it’s very private but absolutely.”
Doug brought up his last two possible objections, “You’re straight, Andy, and she’s twice your age.”
“And your point is? You’d sleep with her in two seconds flat and you’re gay.”
Doug blushed because it was entirely too true and lifted his glass of Sprite. “To love, then.”
“To love.”
They tapped their glasses of Sprite.
Doug shook his head as he grabbed another piece of pizza. “I’m so fucking impressed. And jealous.”
Andy smiled, “Well, if things go well, you’ll be getting to know her.”
He sighed, “I just knew there was a gay heaven.”
***
“So what film are we going to see, Serena?”
“We’re going to a Kieślowski retrospective-you know "Trois Couleurs: Rouge? You speak French, no?”
Emily glared at her. “Bien sur, Serena. He’s my favorite director and I love that film.”
“Ah-see? You’re not so shallow after all, are you? Do you mind seeing it again?”
“No. It’s my favorite film ever.”
“Mine as well. I suppose we’re fated….to at least eat popcorn together.”
“Obviously.”
As they left Emily’s apartment, she didn’t mind so much that this goddess chose to hold her hand as they strolled along. Who cared? Right? Who cared?
No one evidently. As they walked toward the theater Emily realized that a tall glamazon with a comparatively pretty person in tow didn’t attract much more attention than anyone else in New York.
Serena insisted on buying the tickets and the refreshments. She also insisted on buying jumbo drinks and a large popcorn with extra butter.
As Emily nearly had a fit beside her, Serena said, “We could be hit by a car tomorrow-you already have been-that was the first of my little anxieties about you. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
They munched on the popcorn for a few moments into the movie and then Serena took Emily’s hand. They continued eating and watching the movie until the very end. And then for a few moments after the credits were running, Serena leaned into Emily’s ear and said, “I want you, my darling. It won’t be tonight, but God or life or Fate has placed us together, do you not think so?”
Emily could only manage a strangled, “Yes.”
They watched the rest of the credits, with Emily wanting to explode. And then Serena kissed her, quite tenderly, a buttery, popcorn-flavored kiss. And as Emily relaxed into the bliss of Serena’s lips, she found she didn’t even care who saw them.
****
4PM
What was life, Miranda thought, but a series of disappointing postponements? Waiting for Andrea, waiting for her children. Waiting for perfection at Runway.
Was this true? It seemed true. Was she wrong?
She worked her puzzle with ferocity and knew she hoped, to her embarrassment, that someone she loved would come to see her soon. Her! She loved her privacy. Guarded it like a pit-bull. And yet only her girls would help. They would help but she was nearly ashamed to admit to herself only Andrea would really help. She wanted her Andy. And no one else could help.
How could this happen? To her? She shook her head. And now that it had, how could it not happen? She felt something turning in her heart. She had made the exception with her children, which she assumed was entirely natural. But Andrea? How could she reconcile this with her vision of herself? She could be a mother to her children. But to allow another person so deeply into her life. How? She took a deep breath, realizing that she did not care. She would submit. Submit completely to this feeling. And, with this decision, she felt a deep, calming and blissful peace. So there, she thought to herself, filling in the last two numbers in her Sudoku puzzle.
So there.
***
Dr. Susan Allen knocked and entered. “Ms. Priestly, may I examine you?” The doctor had quickly realized asking politely was the golden ticket.
“Of course.”
As Dr. Allen assessed Miranda’s wounds, then her thoracic capacity, she also evaluated her pain. “Your wounds are healing well and you sound good, Ms. Priestly. I think you can go home tomorrow.”
“Excellent-when can I get back to work?”
“Not until next week.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
Dr. Allen was a Texan, a true and earthy Texan, and as such was congenial with high-powered patients but no pushover. “I’m the doctor, Ms. Priestly. You’re not. I wouldn’t think of trying to edit a magazine because that’s not my field of expertise. Medicine is. So don’t tell me what’s acceptable. That’s the status of your condition.”
“But-“
“But nothing, Ms. Priestly. You can tell me about Zac Posen’s line this season. Feel free. But you have no right to tell me what I know is good practice for my patient-and you’re my patient.”
Miranda counted to ten, realizing she’d met one of the incredibly few people who could and would fight her with good reason. “Very well. I can go home tomorrow and work from there, can I not?”
“After two days of continued bed rest, certainly. That means Wednesday at the very earliest.”
“My schedule cannot possibly-“
“What? Include its editor being shot? Excuse my language but tough shit. Let it be a growth experience for them. And I must say, if your magazine can’t do without you for two days, you’re not much of a manager.”
Whoa, Nelly!! Dr. Allen had rarely seen someone’s blood pressure rise right in front of her, but this was one of those times. Miranda was nearly apoplectic. Before the woman could explode, Dr. Allen said, “Let’s call it like it is. You’re angry because I’m right. But let me correct myself. I don’t think you’re a bad manager. I think you’re probably such a good manager that your magazine can hold on without you for a couple of days. You’re just a perfectionist and don’t want to let go of the reins.”
Miranda glared at her and Dr. Allen saw why everyone was so afraid of her. Jesus, with that look, the woman should be able to turn you into stone. She watched Miranda forcing herself to relax, forcing herself not to care, until she finally said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Fine.”
“Good. One other suggestion. I think you need someone to help you at home for a couple of days, not to mention keep an eye on you. I would suggest a nurse’s assistant.” Her eyes sparkled, “Something about you tells me you might not comply with my instructions.”
Miranda snorted, “Please! Compliance is my middle name.”
“And I’m the Queen of Arabia. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Ms. Priestly.”
Miranda bowed her head. “Very well. I’ll do as you say….damn you.”
“Now, that’s the Miranda Priestly I’ve heard about. Good for you! Being feisty and bitchy will have you on your feet and ready to go to work in no time. Meaning next week. Do you hear me? Get someone to take care of you properly or you’ll leave this hospital AMA.”
“I understand.”
“I knew you would. You have a reputation for intelligence.”
Miranda glared at her again, “If you don’t watch yourself, Dr. Allen, I’ll either fire you or like you.”
The doctor smiled, “God help me in either case.”
“Exactly. Get out of here. I need to call my next of kin.”
Before the doctor could leave, Miranda said, “Dr. Allen?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Allen winked at her and said, “Wow. I’m going to go buy me a lottery ticket. Obviously, I’m on a roll.”
“Out!”
Dr. Allen snickered as she left and Miranda called John, who was already on his way with their children.
Miranda rang for the nurses’ desk.
There was a delay and a squawk, “Yes? How can we help you?”
“May I see Wanda, please.”
“We’ll let her know.”
It took a few minutes before Wanda appeared in Miranda’s room. “Ms. Miranda-do you need something?”
“I believe you said something about being off for the next three days.”
“Si, Ms. Miranda. I work 12 hour shifts, like the nurses, four days on and three days off.”
“I know this will make a long two weeks for you but how would you like to work for me for me until Wednesday? I’m going home tomorrow and Dr. Allen said I need help, although of course, it’s ridiculous.”
Wanda hesitated for a few moments, unsure what to say.
“What do they pay you hourly, Wanda?”
Wanda told her and, as Andy had predicted, Miranda was scandalized.
“I’ll pay you ten times that if you will help me.”
“Ten times? Oh no, Ms. Miranda. I am not worth so much. And the taxes? No, but thank you.”
“You are worth it to me, Wanda. As far as the taxes are concerned, pay them and I’ll pay you back in cash. And we may as well get to know each other because you and your family will be part of my life for years. Don’t you think?”
Wanda relaxed a bit and then asked, yet again, “Why would God bless me so?”
“There’s an easy answer. You’re worth it. And I’m sure Andrea told you that you'll bring Juan Carlo to me for a visit soon.”
Wanda smiled eagerly, “Si-to put the fear of God into him. Good for a child, I think.”
“Good for everyone, I think.”
***
When the twins arrived, they hugged her gently, as they’d been directed to do by their father. John was delighted to see his former wife looking so much like herself, both for her and for the girls.
Caroline and Cassidy sat on the chairs that Wanda had brought in for their visit and John sat on the bed.
Caroline was shyly but incredibly inquisitive, “So….Mom-how does it feel to get shot?”
Cassidy was horrified and popped her sister on the arm with her hand but Miranda ignored this, “It’s very shocking-and it hurts-and that’s about it.”
Caroline continued, “Was there lots of blood?”
“Jesus H. Christ, Car” Cassidy said, in a huff.
Miranda winked at Cassidy in sympathy before answering, “I believe there was-on me and the carpet but more on Emily, who saved me.”
“Who cares about that stuff?” Cassidy said as she jumped up and hugged Miranda, “We’re so glad you’re okay, Mommy.”
Caroline followed suit and Miranda hugged them both, looking over two strawberry blonde heads to their father, who was quite amused. But for only a moment. “Girls, a nice hug is fine but let her go-she’s had surgery.”
As her daughters reluctantly released her and sat down, Caroline continued her interrogation. “Dad says Andy’s been staying with you.”
Honestly and God bless her, Miranda thought, this girl was headed for The Enquirer. “Yes, darling, she has been.”
“Why’s that? She doesn’t work for you anymore.”
Cassidy huffed again, “Honest to Pete, Car, give it a rest.”
This, Miranda knew, was something of a bluff. Caroline always asked the questions both sisters wanted the answers to but Caroline had no tact. Cassidy did. Cassidy would have ferreted out the same information but in an infinitely more subtle way.
So. Why? She looked at John and he jumped into the fray. “Girls, sometimes you meet people and you feel like you could be friends and sometimes not. What’s hard is when you meet someone you’d like to be friends with and that person works for you. That makes friendship inappropriate. It would make people think you liked them more than the other workers or cut them some slack on the job. You just can’t do it. So, now that Andy’s not working for your mom anymore, they can be friends. See what I mean?”
The girls nodded in twin unison. “So you’re saying Andy’s your friend now?” Caroline said, unrelenting.
“Yes, darling. Andrea is my friend-and she’s been very helpful and kind to me.”
Cassidy, a canny girl with a poker face, said, “I think we should have her over to dinner when you get better, Mommy.”
Miranda glanced at Cassidy, who looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But having seen and felt that look on her own face maybe more than 10,000 times in only the past five years, Miranda only smiled sweetly. “What a wonderful idea, Cassidy.”
Miranda and John still had a sort of telepathy that friends of two decades, lovers and ex-spouses have-a telepathy of facial expressions.
She shot him a look that said, *Where the hell did we get these two?*
And his answering look said, *Don’t ask me. They’re certainly yours-the paternity I can’t vouch for.*
*Oh no, you don’t-they’re yours and you know it-you bastard.*
*Aww...I love you, Mir.*
*Fuck you…darling.*
And then they beamed at each other.
The girls were aware their parents were looking at each other in the weird way they sometimes did, but they’d found out long ago they’d never understand it.
Miranda smiled at her family, and despite the fact she and John could no longer live together, they were still all a family. For the second time that day, she felt a bliss and peace she only associated with her family and, now, with Andrea. She smirked when she thought what that might mean for their future.
***
Andy arrived soon after, bearing the latest Scotty Peace offering. She smiled as she unburdened herself of her cooler, then crossed to shake hands with and greet John. She said, “Hi, Caroline, hi Cassidy.”
Both twins were impressed she knew the difference between them but only Caroline asked, “How’d you know who’s who?”
Andy shrugged, “It used to be my job to know and now it’s sorta obvious.” She then kissed Miranda squarely on the cheek, which rather surprised the girls, who were not used to people having the audacity to touch their mother.
But their mother did not look displeased. Rather the opposite. In fact, she looked suddenly more energized and radiant. John noticed this, as well.
Interesting, he thought.
Interesting if it was what it looked like it might be. But good for her, if that were true. Good for her. He’d remarried years ago and had watched with dismay the disaster of Stephen, who’d never been a match for his tempestuous Miranda. She would always be a part of him-as he would always be a part of her. Their long history, love for each other and their children made this an adamantine relationship. Apart but always, in some essential way, together. And he was proud of the effort they’d both made to make this true.
“So, Andrea, what do you have for me?”
“That’s a secret, Miranda. I’ll go get some coffee while you guys visit.”
John jumped up-“Nope-no bother, we need to get going, girls. You’re mom’s coming home tomorrow. Let’s not tire her out.”
The girls leapt up and hugged and kissed their mother. John kissed her cheek and then patted Andy as he said, “Take care of our girl.”
The look in the man’s eye complicity suggested an understanding she hadn’t expected. “Will do. And my pleasure, John.”
***
As her family left and the door finally closed Miranda whispered, “For God’s sake, come kiss me-right now.”
Andy was happy to comply, though briefly. As she stood, she said, “Longer kisses, hour-long kisses are in our future-we just have to get you home. And speaking of home,” she said with delight, “tomorrow, huh?”
“Yes-and I’ve conscripted poor Wanda to take care of me for two days.” She told Andy the rest of the story before they plowed into yet another exquisite meal.
“I’m so excited, Miranda-so glad you’re okay.”
“Cassidy said you’d have to come to dinner soon.”
The tone of Miranda’s voice gave Andy pause, “Did she, now.”
“Yes-I believe she thinks that ‘something’s up’”
“Well, something is up, isn’t it?”
“Very definitely.”
They finished dinner speaking perfectly amicably about the day’s events.
Miranda, of course, noted that Andy had worn True Religion jeans today, as well as Christian Louboutin flats. But she was still wearing a large white man’s button down shirt, with something she could just barely identify under it.
As Andy cleared their plates for another game of UNO, she unbuttoned two buttons on her shirt.
There. Ah. That was it. It was a dark Marc Jacobs sheath that accentuated the breasts of the wearer because it was impossible to wear a bra beneath it.
Miranda closed her eyes and opened them and sniffed before saying, “Did you feel that you needed to distract me to win at a card game?”
Andy smiled as she shuffled the cards. “Oh? Is this a distraction? I’m sorry. Want me to button up?”
Miranda’s face was pink. “No, Unbutton. More. Two more buttons.”
Andy complied and pulled the button down aside, so that Miranda could more easily view what she’d exposed.
As she dealt, Andy said casually. “You might notice how hard my nipples are right now, Miranda.”
She looked up, “Do you?”
Miranda nodded.
“I’m not cold, Miranda. Your eyes are enough. Even the idea of your looking at my breasts is enough.”
And then, suddenly, there was a look in Miranda’s eyes that Andy had never seen before, although she’d thought she’d catalogued every possible permutation of Miranda’s expressions.
“And so now you’re teasing me with your beautiful breasts, your perfectly gorgeous breasts?” Miranda leaned back and looked at Andy over her half glasses. “You’re so pink, Andrea. You’re so young and, although you may not imagine so, in your heart of hearts, you still think of yourself as a girl. You’re not a virgin but you’re still so virginal. In your mind, you still feel like a virgin girl. And, believe it or not, it shows. To a person of discernment, that is. And I’m nothing if not discerning.”
She sat forward and her voice had the cool, commanding tone that had always sent shivers through Andy, “I promise you, that when I’m well and when we finally do what we are so obviously going to do with each other, you will never feel virginal again and you’ll definitely be a woman.”
The look in Miranda’s eye left as quickly as it had appeared. “Ready to play?”
Andy was scarlet-from what she knew not. Embarrassment? Anticipation? She made a motion to button her shirt but Miranda spoke sharply, “Absolutely not. Don’t cover what you wanted to show me. Besides, that visual distraction may give you a fighting chance in our UNO.”
Finally, Andy smiled through her crimson blushing, “Fuck you, Miranda.”
“Yes. I believe you will be doing just that. But I’ll go first in that endeavor. Believe me. Age before beauty.”
Andy hadn’t realized that she might have problems with blood pressure but she felt the blood pounding in her ears.
As if Miranda could understand what she was thinking she said, “Oh, come here, silly. Lean forward.”
Andy did so and Miranda gently applied her iced glass of water to each of Andy’s cheeks, which felt heavenly.
“Closer, Andy, my love.”
As Andy leaned closer, Miranda leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips. “I’m older than you are, as we both know. I enjoy, even adore, your teasing but don’t think I won’t tease right back.”
“Message received.”
Miranda laughed and took up her cards. Andy looked at hers.
After looking over her cards, Miranda pronounced a verdict, “You’re mine, Sachs.”
Andy rolled her eyes without taking her eyes from her hand, “As if I didn’t know that.”
NEXT CHAPTER