the　Christian　Dior　show。　I　have　a　breakfast　meeting　in　the
  lobby　at　eight…thirty。　See　that　I’m　not　disturbed　before
  then；”　she　barked；　all　traces　of　her　previous　humanness
  evaporating　like　spilled　water　on　a　hot　sidewalk。　And　before　I
  could　think　how　to　end　our　conversation　or；　at　the　very　least；
  kiss　up　a　little　more　for　having　had　it　at　all；　she　walked
  toward　the　elevators　and　vanished　inside　one。　I　shot　a　weary；
  understanding　look　to　Monsieur　Renaud　and　boarded　an　elevator
  myself。
  The　small；　tastefully　arranged　chocolates　on　a　silver　tray　on
  my　bedside　table　only　highlighted　the　perfection　of　the
  evening。　In　one　random；　unexpected　night；　I’d　felt　like　a
  model；　hung　out　with　one　of　the　hottest　guys　I’d　seen　in　the
  flesh；　and　had　been　told　by　Miranda　Priestly　that　I　was
  reasonably　petent。　It　felt　like　everything　was　finally
  ing　together；　that　the　past　year　of　sacrifice　was　showing
  the　first　early　signs　of　potentially　paying　off。　I　collapsed
  on　top　of　the　covers；　still　fully　dressed；　and　gazed　at　the
  ceiling；　still　unable　to　believe　that　I’d　told　Miranda
  straight　up　that　I　wanted　to　work　atThe　New　Yorker；　and　she
  hadn’t　laughed。　Or　screamed。　Or　in　any　way；　shape；　or　form
  freaked　out。　She　hadn’t　even　scoffed　and　told　me　that　I　was
  ridiculous　for　not　wanting　to　get　promoted　somewhere
  withinRunway　。　It　was　almost　as　though—and　I　might　be
  projecting　here；　but　I　don’t　think　so—she　had　listened　to　me
  andunderstood　。　Understood　andagreed　。　It　was　almost　too　much
  to　prehend。
  I　undressed　slowly；　making　sure　to　savor　every　minute　of
  tonight；　going　over　and　over　in　my　mind　the　way　Christian　had
  led　me　from　room　to　room　and　then　all　over　the　dance　floor；
  the　way　he　looked　at　me　through　those　hooded　lids　with　the
  persistent　curl；　the　way　Miranda　had　almost；　imperceptibly；
  nodded　when　I’d　said　what　I　really　wanted　was　to　write。　A
  truly　glorious　night；　I　had　to　say；　one　of　the　best　in　recent
  history。　It　was　already　three…thirty　in　the　morning　Paris
  time；　making　it　nine…thirty　New　York　time—a　perfect　time　to
  catch　Lily　before　she　went　out　for　the　night。　Although　I
  should’ve　just　dialed　with　no　regard　for　the　insistent；
  blinking　light　that　announced—surprise；　surprise—that　I　had
  messages；　I　cheerfully　pulled　out　a　pad　of　the　Ritz　stationery
  and　got　ready　to　transcribe。　There　were　bound　to　be　long　lists
  of　irritating　requests　from　irritating　people；　but　nothing
  could　take　away　my　Cinderella…esque　evening。
  The　first　three　were　from　Monsieur　Renaud　and　his　assistants；
  confirming　various　drivers　and　appointment　for　the　next　day；
  always　remembering　to　wish　me　a　good　night　as　though　I　were
  actually　a　person　instead　of　just　a　slave；　which　I
  appreciated。　Between　the　third　and　the　fourth　message　I　found
  myself　both　wishing　and　not　wishing　that　one　of　the　messages
  to　e　was　from　Alex；　and　as　a　result；　was　both　delighted　and
  anxious　when　the　fourth　was　from　him。
  “Hi；　Andy；　it’s　me。　Alex。　Listen；　I’m　sorry　to　bother　you　over
  there；　I’m　sure　you’re　incredibly　busy；　but　I　need　to　talk　to
  you；　so　please　call　me　on　my　Cell　Phone　as　soon　as　you　get
  this。　Doesn’t　matter　how　late　it　is；　just　be　sure　to　call；　OK？
  Uh；　OK。　’Bye。”
  It　was　so　strange　that　he　hadn’t　said　he　loved　me　or　missed　me
  or　was　waiting　for　me　to　get　back；　but　I　guess　all　those
  things　fall　squarely　into　the　“inappropriate”　category　when
  people　decide　to　“take　a　break。”　I　hit　delete　and　decided；
  rather　arbitrarily；　that　the　lack　of　urgency　in　his　voice
  meant　I　could　wait　until　tomorrow—I　just　couldn’t　handle　a
  long　“state　of　our　relationship”　conversation　at　three　o’clock
  in　the　morning　after　as　wonderful　a　night　as　I’d　just　had。
  The　last　and　final　message　was　from　my　mom；　and　it；　too；
  sounded　strange　and　ambiguous。
  “Hi；　honey；　it’s　Mom。　It’s　about　eight　our　time；　not　sure　what
  that　makes　it　for　you。　Listen；　no　emergency—everything’s
  fine—but　it’d　be　great　if　you　could　call　me　back　when　you　hear
  this。　We’ll　be　up　for　a　while；　so　anytime　is　fine；　but　tonight
  is　definitely　better　than　tomorrow。　We　both　hope　you’re　having
  a　wonderful　time；　and　we’ll　talk　to　you　later。　Love　you！”
  This　was　definitely　strange。　Both　Alex　and　my　mother　had
  called　me　in　Paris　before　I’d　gotten　a　chance　to　call　either
  of　them；　and　both　had　requested　that　I　call　them　back
  regardless　of　what　time　I　got　the　message。　Considering　my
  parents　defined　a　late　night　by　whether　or　not　they　managed　to
  stay　awake　for　Letterman’s　opening　monologue；　I　knew　something
  had　to　be　up。　But　at　the　same　time；　no　one　sounded
  particularly　panicked　or　even　a　little　frantic。　Perhaps　I’d
  take　a　long　bubble　bath　with　some　of　the　Ritz　products
  provided　and　slowly　work　up　the　energy　to　call　everyone　back；
  the　night　had　just　been　too　good　to　wreck　by　talking　to　my
  mother　about　some　petty　concern　or　to　Alex　about　“where　we
  stand。”
  The　bath　was　just　as　hot　and　luxurious　as　you’d　expect　it　to
  be　in　a　junior　suite　adjacent　to　the　Coco　Chanel　suite　at　the
  Ritz　Paris；　and　I　took　a　few　extra　minutes　to　apply　some　of
  the　lightly　scented　moisturizer　from　the　vanity　to　my　entire
  body。　Then；　finally　wrapped　in　the　plushest　terry…cloth　robe
  I’d　ever　pulled　around　me；　I　sat　down　to　dial。　Without
  thinking；　I　dialed　my　mother　first；　which　was　probably　a
  mistake：　even　her　“hello”　sounded　seriously　stressed　out。
  “Hey；　it’s　me。　Is　everything　OK？　I　was　going　to　call　you　guys
  tomorrow；　it’s　just　that　things　have　been　so　hectic。　But；　wait
  until　I　tell　you　about　the　night　I　just　had！”　I　knew　already
  that　I’d　be　omitting　any　romantic　references　to　Christian；
  since　I　hadn’t　felt　like　explaining　the　entire　Alex　scenario
  to　my　parents；　but　I　knew　they’d　both　be　thrilled　to　hear　that
  Miranda　seemed　to　respond　well　when　I’d　brought　up　the　idea
  ofThe　New　Yorker　。
  “Honey；　I　don’t　mean　to　interrupt　you；　but　something’s
  happened。　We　got　a　call　today　from　Lenox　Hill　Hospital；　which
  is　on　Seventy…seventh　Street；　I　think；　and　it　seems　that
  Lily’s　been　in　an　accident。”
  And　although　it’s　quite　conceivably　the　most　clichéd
  expression　in　the　English　language；　my　heart　stopped　for　just
  a　moment。　“What？　What　are　you　talking　about？　What　kind　of　an
  accident？”
  She　had　already　switched　into　worried…mom　mode　and　was　clearly
  trying　to　keep　her　voice　steady　and　her　words　rational；
  following　what　was　sure　to　have　been　my　dad’s　suggestion　of
  passing　along　to　me　a　feeling　of　calm　and　control。　“A　car
  accident；　honey。　A　rather　serious　one；　I’m　afraid。　Lily　was
  driving—there　was　also　a　guy　in　the　car；　someone　from　school；
  I　think　they　said—and　she　turned　the　wrong　way　down　a　one…way
  street。　It　seems　she　hit　a　taxicab　head…on；　going　nearly　forty
  miles　an　hour　on　a　city　street。　The　police　officer　I　spoke
  with　said　it　was　a　miracle　she’s　alive。”
  “I　don’t　understand。　When　did　it　happen？　Is　she　going　to　be
  OK？”　I　had　started　choke…crying　at　some　point；　because　as　calm
  as　my　mother　was　trying　to　remain；　I　could　hear　the　severity
  of　the　situation　in　her　carefully　chosen　words。　“Mom；　where　is
  Lily　now；　and　is　she　going　to　be　OK？”
  It　wasn’t　until　this　point　that　I　noticed　my　mom　was　crying
  also；　just　quietly。　“Andy；　I’m　putting　Dad　on。　He　spoke　to　the
  doctors　most　recently。　I　love　you；　honey。”　The　last　part　came
  out　like　a　squeak。
  “Hi；　honey。　How　are　you？　Sorry　we　have　to　call　with　news　like
  this。”　My　dad’s　voice　sounded　deep　and　reassuring；　and　I　had　a
  fleeting　feeling　that　everything　was　going　to　work　out。　He　was
  going　to　tell　me　that　she’d　broken　her　leg；　maybe　a　rib　or
  two；　and　someone　had　called　in　a　good　plastic　surgeon　to
  stitch　up　a　few　scrapes　on　her　face。　But　she　was　going　to　be
  just　fine。
  “Dad；　will　you　please　tell　me　what　happened？　Mom　said　Lily　was
  driving　and　hit　a　cab　going　really　fast？　I　don’t　understand。
  None　of　this　makes　any　sense。　Lily　doesn’t　have　a　car；　and　she
  hates　to　drive。　She’d　never　be　cruising　around　Manhattan。　How
  did　you　hear　about　this？　Who　called　you？　And　what’s　wrong　with
  her？”　Again；　I’d　worked　myself　up　to　nearly　hysterical；　but
  again　his　voice　was　manding　and　soothing　all　in　one。
  “Take　a　deep　breath—I’ll　tell　you　everything　I　know。　The
  accident　happened　yesterday；　but　we　just　found　out　about　it
  today。”
  “Yesterday！　How　could　this　have　happened　yesterday　and　no　one
  called　me？　Yesterday？”
  “Sweetie；　they　did　call　you。　The　doctor　said　that　Lily　had
  filled　out　the　front　information　page　in　her　daily　p