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 comprehend.
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 come was from Alex, and as a result, was both delighted and anxious when
the fourth was from him.
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“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
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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
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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 a coma?” Nothing was making sense anymore; the words were
refusing to take on meaning.
“Honey, try to calm down. I know this is shocking for you and I hate to do this over the
phone. We considered not telling you until you got back, but since that’s still half a week
away, we figured you had a right to know. But also know that Mom and I are doing
everything we can to make sure that Lily gets the best help. She’s always been like a
daughter to us, you know that, so she’s not going to be alone.”
“Oh my god, I have to come home. Dad, I have to come home! She doesn’t have
anybody but me, and I’m across the Atlantic. Oh, but that fucking party is the night after
tomorrow and it’s the sole reason she brought me and she’ll definitely fire me if I’m not
there. Think! I need to think!”
“Andy, it’s late there. I think the best thing you could do is get some sleep, take a little
time to think things over. Of course I knew you’d want to come home right away,
because that’s the kind of person you are, but keep in mind that for right now Lily is not
conscious. Her doctor assured me that the chances are excellent that she’ll come out of
this in the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours, that her body is just using this as an
extended and deeper sleep to help itself heal. But nothing is certain,” he added, softly.
“And if she does come out of it? I’m assuming she could have all sorts of brain damage
and horrible paralysis and things like that? Oh my god, I can’t stand it.”
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“They just don’t know yet. They said that she is responsive to stimuli in her feet and
legs, which is a good indication that there’s no paralysis. But there’s a lot of swelling
around her head, and it won’t be possible to know anything for sure until she comes out
of this. We just need to wait.”
We spoke for a few minutes longer before I hung up abruptly and called Alex’s cell
phone.
“Hi, it’s me. Have you seen her?” I asked without so much as a hello. I was now a mini-
Miranda.
“Andy. Hi. So you know?”
“Yeah, I just got off the phone with my parents. Have you seen her?”
“Yes, I’m at the hospital now. They won’t let me in her room right now since it’s not
visiting hours and I’m not family, but I wanted to be here just in case she wakes up.” He
sounded very, very far away, completely lost in his own thoughts.
“What happened? My mom said something about how she was driving and hit a cab or
something? None of it makes any sense to me.”
“Uch, it’s a nightmare,” he sighed, clearly unhappy that no one else had told me the story
yet. “I’m not sure I know exactly, but I did talk to the guy she was with when it
happened. You remember Benjamin, that guy she was seeing in college who she walked
in on having a threesome with those girls?”
“Of course, he works in my building now. I see him sometimes. What the hell was she
doing with him? Lily hates him—she’s never gotten over that.”
“I know, that’s what I thought, too, but it seems they’ve been hanging out lately and they
were together last night. He says they had gotten tickets to see Phish at Nassau Coliseum
and drove out there together. I guess Benjamin smoked too much and decided he
shouldn’t drive his car home, so Lily volunteered. They made it back to the city with no
problems until Lily ran a red light and then turned the wrong way down Madison, straight
into oncoming traffic. They hit a cab head-on, on the driver’s side, and, well, uh, you
know.” He choked up at this point, and I knew things must be worse than anyone had let
on.
I’d done nothing but ask questions the last half hour—to my mom, my dad, and now
Alex—but I couldn’t bring myself to ask the most obvious one: Why had Lily run a red
light and then tried to drive south on an avenue that only ran north? But I didn’t need to,
because Alex, as always, knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Andy, her blood alcohol level was nearly twice the legal limit.” He stated this matter-
of-factly, trying not to swallow the words so I wouldn’t ask him to repeat them.
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“Oh my god.”
“If—when—she wakes up, she’s going to have even more to deal with than her health:
she’s in a lot of trouble. Luckily, the cabbie was OK, just a few bumps and bruises, and
Benjamin’s left leg is completely smashed up, but he’ll be fine, too. We just need to wait
for Lily. When are you coming home?”
“What?” I was still trying to process the fact that Lily had been “seeing” a guy I’d
always thought she hated, that she’d ended up in a coma because she was so drunk when
she was with him.
“I said, when are you coming home?” When I was silent for a moment, he continued.
“You are coming home, aren’t you? You’re not seriously considering staying there while
your best friend on earth lies in a hospital bed, are you?”
“What are you suggesting, Alex? Are you suggesting that this is my fault because I
didn’t see it coming? That she’s lying in that hospital bed because I’m in Paris right now?
That if I had known she was hanging out with Benjamin again none of this would have
happened? What? What exactly are you saying?” I shrieked, all of the confusing
