“And　I　assume　Miranda　didn’t　like　that；　either？”
  “Yeah；　sheloooooved　that　one。　She　spent　twenty　minutes
  refusing　to　believe　that　there　wasn’t　a　single　plane
  available。　I　assured　her　that　it　wasn’t　that　they　were　all
  taken；　just　that　it　was　a　difficult　time　of　night　to　be
  attempting　to　charter　a　flight。”
  “So　what　happened？”　I　didn’t　see　this　one　ending　happily。
  “At　about　one…thirty　in　the　morning　she　finally　accepted　that
  she　wasn’t　going　to　get　Home　that　night—not　that　it　mattered
  whatsoever；　since　the　girls　were　with　their　father　and　the
  nanny　was　around　all　day　Sunday　if　they　needed　her—and　she　had
  me　buy　her　a　ticket　for　the　first　flight　out　in　the　morning。”
  This　was　puzzling。　If　her　flight　had　been　canceled；　I’d
  assumed　the　airlines　would’ve　rescheduled　her　for　the　first
  flight　out　in　the　morning；　especially　considering　her
  premier…advantage…plus…gold…platinum…diamond…executive…VIP
  mileage　status　and　the　original　cost　of　her　first…class
  tickets。　I　said　as　much。
  “Yeah；　well；　Continental　scheduled　them　for　their　first　flight
  out；　which　was　at　six…fiftyA　。M。　But　when　Miranda　heard　that
  someone　else　had　managed　to　get　on　a　Delta　flight　at
  six…thirty…fiveA　。M。；　she　went　ballistic。　She　called　me　an
  inpetent　idiot；　asked　me　over　and　over　what　good　an
  assistant　was　if　I　couldn’t　do　something　as　simple　as　arrange
  for　a　private　plane。”　She’d　sniffed　and　took　a　sip　of
  something；　probably　Coffee。
  “Ohmigod；　I　know　what　you’re　going　to　say。　Tell　me　you
  didn’t！”
  “I　did。”
  “You　didn’t。　You’ve　got　to　be　kidding。　For　fifteen　minutes？”
  “I　did！　What　choice　did　I　have？　She　was　really　unhappy　with
  me—at　least　this　way；　it　seemed　like　I　was　actually　doing
  something。　It　came　to　another　couple　thousand　bucks—not
  exactly　a　big　deal。　She　was　bordering　onhappy　when　we　hung　up。
  What　else　can　you　ask　for？”
  By　this　point　we’d　both　started　laughing。　I　knew　without
  Emily’s　telling　me—and　she　knew　I　knew—that　she’d　gone　ahead
  and　purchased　two　additional　Business…class　tickets　on　the
  Delta　flight　for　Miranda　just　to　shut　her　up；　to　make　the
  incessant　demands　and　insults　finally；　blissfully；　cease。
  I　was　nearly　choking　at　this　point。　“So；　wait。　By　the　time　you
  arranged　for　a　car　to　take　her　to　the　Delano—”
  “—it　was　just　before　three　in　the　morning；　and　she’d　called　my
  Cell　Phone　exactly　twenty…two　times　since　eleven。　The　driver
  waited　while　they　showered　and　changed　in　their　penthouse
  suite　and　then　took　them　right　back　to　the　airport　in　time　for
  theirearlier　flight。”
  “Stop！　You’ve　got　to　stop；”　I　howled；　doubled　over　at　this
  charming　series　of　events。　“This　did　not　really　happen。”
  Emily　stopped　laughing　and　tried　to　feign　seriousness。　“Oh；
  really？　You　think　all　of　this　is　good？　I　haven’t　even　told　you
  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