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to various people who were already in Paris。 I fielded them
listlessly； uneventfully； until I went to gather my things and try
to sneak out for the night before the phone rang again。 It wasn’t
until I was climbing exhaustedly into my coat that I caught a
glimpse of the note that I’d stuck to my monitor just so this very
thing wouldn’t happen： CALL A； 3：30P。M。 TODAY。 My head felt like it
was swimming； my contacts had long before dried to tiny； hard shards
covering my eyes； and at this point my head started to throb。 No
sharp pains； just that nebulous； dull kind of ache where you can’t
pinpoint the center but you know it will build and build in a slow；
burning intensity until you either manage to pass out or your head
just explodes。 In the frenzy of all the calls that had produced such
anxiety； such panic； from across an ocean； I had forgotten to take
the thirty seconds out of my day and call Alex when he’d asked me
to。 Simply up and forgotten to do something so simple for someone
who never seemed to need anything from me。
I sat down in the now darkened and silent office and picked up the
phone that was still a little wet from my sweaty hands during
Miranda’s last call a few minutes earlier。 His Home line rang and
rang until the machine picked up； but he answered on the first ring
when I tried his Cell Phone。
“Hi；” he said； knowing it was me from the caller ID。 “How was your
day？”
“Whatever； usual。 Alex； I’m so sorry I didn’t call you at
three…thirty。 I can’t even get into it—it’s just that things were so
crazy here； she just kept calling and—”
“Hey； forget it。 Not a big deal。 Listen； now’s not really a great
time for me。 Can I call you tomorrow？” He sounded distracted； his
voice taking on that faraway quality of someone talking from an
international payphone on the beach of a tiny village across the
world。
“Um； sure。 But is everything OK？ Will you just quickly tell me what
you wanted to talk about before？ I’ve been really worried that
everything’s not OK。”
He was quiet for a moment and then said； “Yeah； well it doesn’t seem
like you were all that worried。 I ask you one time to call me at a
time that’s convenient for me—not to mention that your boss isn’t
even in the country right now—and you can’t manage to do that until
six hours after the fact。 Not really a sign of someone who’s
genuinely concerned； you know？” He stated all of this with no
sarcasm； no disapproval； just a simple summary of the facts。
I was twisting the phone cord around my finger until it cut off the
circulation entirely； making the knuckle bulge out and the tip turn
white； there was also a brief； metallic taste of blood in my mouth；
the first realization that I had been gnawing on the inside of my
bottom lip。
“Alex； it’s not that I forgot to call；” I lied openly； trying to
extricate myself from his nonaccusatory accusation。 “I simply didn’t
have a single second free； and since it sounded like something
serious； I didn’t want to call just to have to hang up again。 I
mean； she must have called me two dozen times just this afternoon；
and each one is an absolute emergency。 Emily took off at five and
left me all alone with that phone； and Miranda just didn’t stop。 She
just kept calling and calling and calling； and every time I went to
call you； it’d be her again on the other line。 I； uh； you know？”
My rapid…fire list of excuses sounded pathetic even to me； but I
couldn’t stop。 He knew I had just forgotten； and so did I。 Not
because I didn’t care or wasn’t concerned； but because all things
non…Miranda somehow ceased to be relevant the moment I arrived at
work。 In some ways I still didn’t understand and certainly couldn’t
explain—never mind ask anyone else to understand—how the outside
world just melted into nonexistence； that the only thing remaining
when everything else vanished wasRunway 。 It was especially
difficult to explain this phenomenon when it was the single thing in
my life I despised。 And yet； it was the only one that mattered。
“Listen； I have to get back to Joey。 He has two friends over and
they’ve probably torn apart the entire house by this point。”
“Joey？ Does that mean you’re in Larchmont？ You don’t usually watch
him on Wednesdays。 Is everything OK？” I was hoping to steer him away
from the blatantly obvious fact that I had gotten too wrapped up at
work for six straight hours； and this seemed like the best path。
He’d tell me how his mom had gotten held up at work accidentally or
perhaps had to go see Joey’s teacher for conferences that night when
the regular babysitter canceled。 He’d never plain of course—that
just wasn’t his style—but he’d at least tell me what was going on。
“Yeah； yeah； everything’s fine。 My mom just had an emergency client
meeting tonight。 Andy； I can’t really talk about it now。 I was just
calling before with some good news。 But you didn’t call me back；” he
said flatly。
I wrapped the phone cord； which had begun to slowly unravel； so
tight around my pointer and middle fingers that they began to
pulsate。 “I’m sorry” was all I could manage； because even though I
knew he was right； that I was insensitive not to have called； I was
too worn out to present a huge defense。 “Alex； please。 Please don’t
punish me by not telling me something good。 Do you know how long
it’s been since anyone has called with good news？ Please。 Give me
that at least。” I knew he’d respond to my rational approach； and he
did。
“Look； it’s not that exciting。 I just went ahead and made all the
arrangements for us to go back for our first Homeing together。”
“You did？ Really？ We’re going？” I’d brought it up a couple times
before in what I’d liked to believe had been an offhand and casual
way； but in a decidedly non…Alex fashion he’d been hedging on
mitting to our going together。 It was really early to be planning
any of it； but the hotels and restaurants in Providence were always
full months ahead of time。 I’d dropped it a few weeks earlier；
figuring that we would figure something out； find a place to stay
somewhere。 But somehow； of course； he’d picked up on just how badly
I wanted to go with him； and he’d figured out everything。
“Yeah； it’s done。 We have a rental car—a Jeep； actually—and I
reserved a room at the Biltmore。”
“At the Biltmore？ You’re kidding？ You got a room there？ That’s
amazing。”
“Yeah； well； you’ve always talked about wanting to stay there； so I
figured we should try it。 I even made a reservation for brunch on
Sunday at Al Forno for ten people； so we can each gather up the
troops and have everyone in one place at one time。”
“No way。 You did all of this already？”
“Sure。 I thought you’d be really psyched。 That’s why I was really
looking forward to telling you about it。 But apparently you were too
busy to call back。”
“Alex； I’m thrilled。 I can’t even tell you how excited I am； and I
can’t believe you figured everything out already。 I’m really sorry
about before； but I can’t wait for October。 We’re going to have the
best time； thanks to you。”
We talked for another couple minutes。 By the time I hung up； he
didn’t sound mad anymore； but I could barely move。 The effort to win
him back； to find the right words not only to convince him that I
hadn’t overlooked him but also to reassure him that I was
appropriately grateful and enthusiastic had drained the last
reserves of my energy。 I don’t remember getting into the car or the
ride Home or whether or not I said hello to John Fisher…Galliano in
the lobby of my building。 Besides a bone…deep exhaustion that hurt
so much it almost felt good； the only thing I remember feeling at
all was relief that Lily’s door was shut and no light peeked out
from under it。 I thought about ordering in some food； but the mere
thought of locating a menu and a phone was too overwhelming—another
meal that simply wasn’t happening。
Instead； I sat on the crumbling concrete of my furnitureless balcony
and leisurely inhaled a cigarette。 Lacking the energy to actually
blow the smoke out； I let it seep from my mouth and hang in the
still air around me。 At some point I heard Lily’s door open； her
footsteps shuffling along the hallway； but I quickly turned out my
lights and sat in the darkened silence。 There had just been fifteen
straight hours of talking； and I could talk no more。
13
“Hire her；” Miranda had decreed when she met Annabelle； the twelfth
girl I’d interviewed and one of only two that I’d