Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Knowing, Chasing Harry Winston, Last Night at Chateau Marmont
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 come 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 of The 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 commanding 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 planner and had listed you as her emergency contact, since her grandmother’s really not doing all that well. Anyway, I guess the hospital called you at home and on your cell, but of course you weren’t checking either one. When no one called them back or showed up in twenty-four hours, they went through her planner and noticed that we have the same last name as you, and so the hospital called here to see if we knew how to reach you. Mom and I couldn’t remember where you were staying, so we called Alex for the name of the hotel.’
‘Oh my god, it was a day ago. Has she been alone this whole time? Is she still in the hospital?’ I couldn’t ask the questions fast enough, but I still felt like I wasn’t getting any answers. All I knew for sure was that Lily had decided on me as the primary person in her life, the emergency contact you always had to list but never, ever took seriously. And here she’d really needed me – didn’t have anyone else, in fact – and I’d been nowhere to be found. My choking had subsided, but the tears continued to pour down my cheeks in hot, angry streaks, and my throat felt as though it had been scraped raw with a pumice stone.
‘Yes, she’s still in the hospital. I’m going to be very honest with you, Andy. We’re not sure if she’s going to be all right.’
‘What? What are you saying? Will someone just tell me something concrete already?’
‘Honey, I’ve spoken to her doctor a half-dozen times already, and I have complete confidence that she’s getting the best attention. But Lily’s in a coma, sweetie. Now, the doctor did reassure me that—’
‘A coma? Lily is in