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the best part。”
“Oh； tell me； tell me！” I was positively gleeful that Emily
and I had； for once； managed to find something funny at the
exact same time。 It felt good to be part of a team； one half
in the battle against the oppressor。 I realized then for the
first time what a different year it would have been if Emily
and I could’ve truly been friends； if we could have covered
and protected and trusted each other enough to face Miranda as
a united front。 Things probably wouldn’t have been quite so
unbearable； but； except for rare times like these； we didn’t
agree on just about everything。
“The best part of all of it？” She was silent； dragging out the
joy we shared a few moments longer。 “She didn’t realize this；
of course； but even though the Delta flight took off earlier；
it was actually scheduled to land eight minutes after her
original Continental！”
“Shut up！” I’d howled； delighted with this delicious new
nugget of information。 “You’vegot to be kidding me！”
When we finally hung up； I was surprised to see that we’d been
talking for more than an hour； just like a couple of real
friends would。 Of course； we immediately reverted back to
just…contained hostility on Monday； but my feelings for Emily
were always a bit more affectionate after that weekend。 Until
now； of course。 I sure didn’t like her enough to hear whatever
surely irritating or inconvenient thing she was preparing to
dump on me。
“Really； you sound horrible。 Are you sick？” I tried valiantly
to interject a touch of sympathy in my voice； but the question
came out sounding aggressive and accusatory。
“Oh yeah；” she rasped before breaking into hacking coughs。
“Really sick。”
I never really believed it when anyone said they were really
sick： without a diagnosis of something very official and
potentially life…threatening； you were well enough to work
atRunway 。 So when Emily finished hacking and reiterated that
she was really ill； I didn’t even consider the possibility
that she wouldn’t be at work on Monday。 After all； she was
scheduled to fly to Paris to meet Miranda on October 18 and
that was only slightly more than a week away。 And besides； I’d
managed to ignore a couple strep throats； a few bouts of
bronchitis； a horrific round of food poisoning； and a
perpetual smoker’s cough and cold and hadn’t taken a single
sick day in nearly a year of work。
I’d sneaked in a single doctor’s appointment when I was
desperate for antibiotics with one of the cases of strep
throat （I ducked into his office and ordered them to see me
right away when Miranda and Emily thought that I was out
scouting for new cars for Mr。 Tomlinson）； but there was never
time for preventative work。 Although I’d had a dozen sets of
highlights from Marshall； quite a few free massages from spas
that felt honored to have Miranda’s assistant as a guest； and
countless manicures； pedicures； and makeovers； I hadn’t seen a
dentist or a gynecologist in a year。
“Anything I can do？” I asked； trying to sound casual while I
racked my brain thinking of why she’d called to tell me that
she didn’t feel well。 As far as we were both concerned； it was
pletely and entirely irrelevant。 She’d be at work on Monday
whether she felt well or not。
She coughed deeply and I heard phlegm rattling in her lungs。
“Um； yeah； actually。 God； I can’t believe this is happening to
me！”
“What？ What’s happening？”
“I can’t go to Europe with Miranda。 I have mono。”
“What？”
“You heard me； I can’t go。 The doctor called today with the
blood results； and as of right now； I’m not allowed to leave
my apartment for the next three weeks。”
Three weeks！ She had to be kidding。 There wasn’t time to feel
badly for her—she’d just told me she wasn’t going to Europe；
and it was that thought alone—the idea that both Miranda and
Emily would be out of my life—that had sustained me through
the past couple months。
“Em； she’s going to kill you—you have to go！ Does she know
yet？”
There was a foreboding silence on the other end。 “Um； yeah；
she knows。”
“You called her？”
“Yes。 I had my doctor call her； actually； because she didn’t
think that having mono really qualified me as sick； so he had
to tell her that I could infect her and everyone else； and
anyway 。 。 。” Her sentence trailed off； and her tone was
suggestive of something far； far worse。
“Anyway what？” My self…preservation instincts had kicked into
overdrive。
“Anyway 。 。 。 she wants you to go with her。”
“She wants me to go with her； huh？ That’s cute。 What’d she
really say？ She didn’t threaten to fire you for getting sick；
did she？”
“Andrea； I’m—” a deep； mucousy cough shook her voice and I
thought for a moment that she might very well die right there
on the phone with me “—serious。 pletely and totally
serious。 She said something about the assistants they give her
abroad being idiots and that even you’d be better to have
around than them。”
“Oh； well； when you put it like that； sign me up！ Nothing
quite like some over…the…top flattery to convince me to do
something。 Seriously； she shouldn’t have said such nice
things。 I’m blushing！” I didn’t know whether to focus on the
fact that Miranda wanted me to go to Paris with her； or that
she only wanted me to go because she considered me slightly
less brain…dead than the anorexic French clones of； well 。 。 。
me。
“Oh； just shut up already；” she croaked in between fits of now
annoying coughing。 “You’re the luckiest fucking person in the
world。 I’ve been waiting two years—over two years—for this
trip； and now I can’t go。 The irony of this i