Ignorance
A Devil Wears Prada fanfiction
by Sandandsea1
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the DWP characters.
AN: I needed a break from Without Summer, and had been meaning to start writing this again. So here you go, something a little lighter. Part 1 is originally posted on Livejournal.
The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don't know anything about.
- Wayne Dyer
Part 1:
The door to the employee lounge room slammed open. The force caused the knob to make an indent into the cream colored wall in spite of the door jamb. Andy in her anger didn't notice the damage or the two Runway employees whose heads whipped towards her.
There were six lounge rooms designated for Runway's employees. The lounge that Andy had chosen was one of three on the eleventh floor. The other three were located at various spots on the tenth floor which Runway magazine also controlled. It was also the closest to the offices of the Editor-in-chief and was jokingly called the Green Room.
The Green Room was almost always empty because of its proximity to Miranda's offices. It was just Andy's luck that Emily and Serena were there. Making a play on the nickname, the last lounge designer had tastefully decorated the room in cool greens and cream. There were splashes of purple in the throw pillows of the couch, the artwork lining the walls, and accented in the kitchen back-splash.
Emily and Serena were in the kitchenette that lined part of one green painted wall when Andy came in. The red-head was in the midst of touching up her lipstick at the sink while her blonde partner-in-crime leaned against the counter and flipped through a competitor's magazine. Seeing that the commotion was only Andy and not someone important, Emily casually turned back to the mirror hanging above the sink, making sure that she hadn't gotten any of the glossy, pearl color on her teeth.
Emily put away the lipstick tube and took her mascara out of her bag. The wand was brushed over her eyelashes in deft, efficient motions. Out of the corner of her eye she spied Serena watching Andy with curious hazel eyes. Emily nudged the modelesque woman and mouthed silently to her, "God, what a prat!" Serena caught the words and nodded. Then she went back to the entertaining sight of the brunette who was muttering to herself and ignoring the room's other occupants.
"So," Emily drawled her inquiry, her tone very blasé, when the silence had started to stretch on too long. "What are you going on about now?" It was the only acknowledgment that she gave to Andy. The obviously upset woman didn't look like she was going to calm down anytime soon and Emily didn't have all day to deal with whatever little problem her co-worker had blown up into a crisis.
Emily's reaction, or lack thereof, caused Serena to quirk her lips up in amusement. The high strung woman could be so very British at times, sometimes stereotypically so. Emily was, Serena knew, probably quite concerned as to what had distressed their normally upbeat co-worker. But Andy was not yet a friend and Emily would rather express her concern in a way that allowed her to seem totally disinterested.
Andy was almost beyond pissed off by the time she had entered the Green Room. "Damn that woman," she muttered under her breath as the anger poured off her in waves and her body language shouting to leave her the hell alone. She paced the length of the room ignoring her audience of two. The softness of the carpet prevented her from stomping properly and was another thing to critique.
For two months Andy had worked for that woman. For two months Andy had done every little thing that her boss had told her to do. If Miranda wanted her to come in on her day off, Andy did. She put off dinners with her friends and dates with Nate for that woman.
Miranda worked so much. How did she manage to keep her own home life together? Was she one of those women who had to be controlling in the workplace because they were controlled at home? Andy didn't think so. Miranda seemed like the type of woman who was needlessly cruel because she received some kind of sick enjoyment out of being that way. He husband was probably henpecked at home.
Andy herself had practically become estranged from her friends and family! They had all gotten on the same band wagon about her having "changed". She wasn't even sure that she'd be welcome at Thanksgiving this year after the way she treated her father during his last visit. Things would definitely be tense over the turkey and cranberry sauce.
She worked like a dog and could her boss offer Andy even the smallest word of thanks or praise? Of course not! It was always, "How hard is it to read my mind about this, that or the other?" or "Why can't you be in two places at once so you can walk the dog and fetch my stupid slippers?" The last thought rang loudly in her head. She wasn't a dog! She didn't play fetch!
Andy was so lost in the swirl of her outraged anger that she hadn't heard Emily at first. The casualness of her question demoted her inquiry to a secondary problem. It was between one thought and the next, one breath and the next, that the memory of Emily's accent brought her co-worker's words to the forefront of her brain. The refined accent, though several degrees heavier than the source of her ire, allowed Andy spit out the name that seemed to embody everything that was going wrong in her life. "Miranda Fucking Priestly."
Andy's nearly growled reply had Emily rearing back from her reflection with wide eyes. The answer caused her thoughts to stumble to a halt. Emily couldn't have heard what she thought she had. A movement off to her side made Emily glance in Serena's direction.
The blonde had closed her magazine and was now gauging Emily's response. Although usually composed, Serena had never been able to hide her emotions from Emily. And Emily now saw a shock that mirrored her own. Emily felt a small flame of anger ignite in the pit of her stomach. She had heard correctly. Turning, leaning back against the counter, Emily glared at the brunette who hadn't stopped moving. "Excuse me?"
Serena's eyes widened in alarm at hearing the icy note lacing Emily's question. Cold blue eyes were narrowed dangerously and Serena automatically reached out to Emily with a restraining hand. It wasn't that Serena was worried that Emily would physically attack Andy because she would never do that, but the red-head often used words like a weapon. It was a skill that she had always had, and had fine-tuned under Miranda's tutelage. And Emily's temper, when it came to anyone besmirching Miranda Priestly, could be awesome in a truly terrifying way.
Her hand clasped gently around Emily's upper bicep. The skin was incredibly soft over the firm muscle. Serena brushed her thumb soothingly against the pale, bared skin and prayed that Andy would stop talking. She shot a warning look to Andy hoping that her touch would ground Emily's anger, keeping Emily from saying something that she might later regret and couldn't take back.
Andy was so focused on the reason her life was falling apart that she didn't notice Serena's warning look. She didn't see the restraining hand, nor did she see the way Emily's face flushed an alarming shade of red. She took Emily's question as interest. It was approval to let everything go. All the anger, and confusion, and her bruised ego could be vented on what she thought were willing and sympathetic listeners.
Emily was the 1st assistant, which meant that she used to be the 2nd assistant before Andy. She had gone through everything that Andy was going through. She could understand the frustrations of working for the impossible to please woman. And what about Serena? She had a lot of contact with Miranda as a lead editorial staffer wasn't she always kept on tenterhooks? How had the two survived the insanity for so long?
Nigel had said that if she had a personal life then she wasn't working hard enough. Was that true? Did Emily or Serena have family and friends at home that understood their crazy work schedule? They had never spoken about it.
"I mean, I know I'm her personal assistant," Andy finally wound down her litany of Miranda's 'sins'. She was so tired but amazingly she felt clean. The burden of dealing with everything alone lifted by sharing her thoughts with people who could truly understand the job. "But I don't 'fetch'," She finished. "She can't expect to work me like a dog and not-"
"Yes," Emily interrupted. "She can." She spoke slowly as if conversing with a not so bright child. Her voice was low and calm. The need to spit obscenities at the ignorance of the woman in front of her lingered near the edge of her voice.
Emily shrugged off Serena's hand, barely looking at the other woman, "Oh, I'm sorry Andrea." She ignored the soft cautioning of Serena calling her name. Emily's focus was directed on one person and her tongue was on a seek-and-destroy mission. "I didn't know that you were under the assumption that you were being paid to bitch and complain about doing your job."
Andy was frozen, staring in open mouth confusion at the suddenness of her attack. Emily looked at her and showed the anger that filled her eyes watching as Andy stepped back. Emily knew that Andy had never really seen her upset; she'd only ever seen the small temper tantrums born from fits of pique.
"Where do you get the unmitigated gall?" Emily asked, stalking predatorily toward the brunette who retreated before her. Behind her, Emily felt Serena follow for support. "You don't know anything about Miranda Priestly, Andy. Nothing." She backed Andy up to the door and Serena stopped just behind and to the side of the conflict. Emily didn't know if she was there just to watch or to keep her from going ahead and smacking the bloody prat.
"You have no idea of who she is or why she does the things she does." Andy started to speak up at that but Emily continued, not giving her a chance. "You haven't a clue what she's done for the fashion industry and through the industry, the world." Emily's eyes narrowed at the small smirking laugh that came from Andy.
"Really, Em?" Andy asked sarcastically, "The world? Aren't you blowing this a bit out of proportion?"
That smacking idea looked better and better by the second to Emily, but she held her hand. "1.5 billion," Emily stated. She was satisfied by the smile falling into a puzzled frown, "That's the number of jobs that the fashion industry has created this year alone. The LCB apparel line which Miranda has personally endorsed and advocated for has provided over 200,000 meals to homeless families around the world since its inception a year ago." Emily nodded at the grimace of chagrined recognition at the name that crossed Andy's face. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg."
Andy felt her lips quirk up into a grin. She knew that Emily hadn't meant it, but Andy found the unintentional pun terribly funny for some strange reason. She knew that it was nerves and adrenaline. "Yes. Okay, I get it." Emily admitted, rolling her eyes, "I'm hilarious." It was a brief moment of levity that slightly eased the tension filling the air.
Then suddenly Emily was pushing into her personal space and Serena was sharply calling Emily's name. Alarmed by the abruptness of the intrusion, Andy stumbled back into the wall behind her. "Now." Emily growled out and Andy couldn't look at her in the eyes anymore. She stood close enough that the Andy felt the heat of her anger flushed body radiate against her bare skin. "Your job is to do anything Miranda needs in order to make her day easier," Emily explained.
"If Miranda Fucking Priestly, wants you to get down on your knees and kiss the toes of her Prada heels, then you will do it because it will make her happy and thus make her day easier." Emily in leaned incrementally. "After all," she whispered. Her breath brushed, fluttering against Andy's ear. "Don't you want her to be happy, Ahn-drey-ah?" Emily smiled slyly. Andy felt a blush flare across her face at the way Emily drew out her name imitating Miranda's unique enunciation. Emily's blatant innuendo sparked images in her mind that she wasn't ready to deal with then. Maybe not ever. The blush deepened.
Emily drew back giving Andy room to breathe. Serena inched her back further and Emily let her because she still had the urge to smack Andy. It would be such a shame to let the impulse ruin any possible progress Emily had made with the brunette. Emily walked away past Serena who watched her go, her brows frown down in worry. "If you can't do the job. If you can't do what she needs, then quit now." Emily stressed, "There are, I'm sure you're aware, a million girls who kill for your job. They won't complain, won't even blink, when Miranda tells them to dispose of the body."
Emily took one last inspection of her appearance in the mirror before slipping her bag over her shoulder and picking up a tote which belonged to Serena. When she got near enough, Emily handed over the tote. Her thumb came up to smooth the frown line that had formed between Serena's eyes. The familiar habit, caused the blonde to smile softly and Emily cupped Serena's face, assuring her with her eyes that she was okay. "Ask yourself," Emily addressed Andy, never looking away from Serena's hazel eyes, "what is it you hope to achieve at Runway, Andy."
She ushered Serena to the door with a proprietary hand at the small of her lover's back. Emily turned back to see Andy looking surprised at her revelation. They came to a halt besides Andy. "You need to get your head out of your ass, Andy," Emily advised. "A year of working for Miranda because she is Miranda and will push you to be the very best, and you'll be able to name your next position in the publishing world. And no one will ever question your commitment or right to be there."
Andy watched the couple leave. That revelation had been one too many. Andy felt her brain was going to melt. She slumped against the wall now that there was no one to see her and put her head on her knees. She had a lot to think about.
Earlier that day:
Andy hurriedly exited the lower level Metro Platform off of 47th St and Sixth Ave along with the bustling morning crowd. A warm breeze greeted her as she rushed down over to the Starbucks nearest her job for Miranda's regular order. Seeing the line in the shop, she veered down the street to the Coffee-holic java shop instead. She was running a tad behind schedule because of an early morning argument with her boyfriend Nate, It wasn't Starbucks but Andy didn't want Miranda to get on her case about the coffee being late. Again.
Rushing through the early morning tide of coffee seekers, Andy once again cursed her live-in. She didn't know what to do with him. Since the fashion makeover that Nigel had orchestrated, things had been strained between them. Her job at Runway took up more of her free time than her job at the school paper and Nate seemed to take it badly.
Andy had called ahead to let Nate, Lily and Doug know that she would be running late to their night out. So when she arrived at the bar, they weren't surprise by her tardiness. She came bearing gifts for everyone as an apology and she was just settling down to relax and enjoy herself when her phone rang.
"I've got it," Nate declared snatching the phone from Andy before she could check the number. He ignored the surprised, half-hearted protestation that fell from her lips. A queer, self congratulatory look crossed his face as he announced, "Yep. Yep, it's the Dragon Lady."
"Let me talk to her," Lily took the phone he casually handed her, overriding Andy's increasingly boisterous protestations. The phone rang again and Andy became more frantic. Lily playfully tossed the ringing device over to a laughing Doug like they were the tail ends in a game of keep away.
"I've got to answer it!" Andy said nearly in a frenzy, climbing almost on top of him to reach the phone before the ring tone sounded again, "Give it! Damn it, give me it!" She wrestled it away from him and ignored her friends as they snickered in the background.
"Hi, Miranda?" She answered breathlessly into the phone. She listened to the woman's instructions pulling her back to work. "Uh huh, I'm leaving right now," Andy agreed and started packing up her things. She didn't really want to be around her friends anymore they could be such assholes sometimes.
Nate was always doing stuff like that lately; undermining her job. He was always on her about the new hours she was keeping or the new clothes she wore. But at the same time, she didn't complain about his working late or that he didn't even ask her if she wanted to go out with him and their friends anymore. Andy had tried to explain that it was only for a year. That she had to make sacrifices to get where she wanted to be. She didn't think he was even listening anymore, and she was tired of talking.
New York's Sixth Avenue had a couple of names. Officially, "The Avenue of the Americas" was the address that the Post Office delivered mail to. Colloquially, Sixth Avenue was also known as "Skyscraper Alley". Either way, the busy section of the city hosted buildings of international style from 40th all the way up to the beginning of Central Park at 59th Street.
The buildings that lined the street rose to towering heights, several reaching more than 500ft high. During her more whimsical moments, Andy could look up and imagine that they truly 'scraped the sky'. And holding reign over them all was the News Corporation Building which housed the Elias-Clark Publishing House. Although the News Corporation Building was not the tallest of the buildings lining the avenue, that honor went to the Exxon building, it was the one with the most power.
Andy gazed at the sleek, glassy surface and straight bold lines of the building that encompassed the world famous Runway magazine publication. Its revolving doors moving the early morning crowd into and out of the building like blood being pumped into and out of a beating heart. The Elias-Clark was a giant in the media world. As a media empire with influences that spanned both the literary and visual globe, it ran head on with some of the most influential conglomerates in the world and surpassed several others. And a lot of its power came from its flagship publication: Runway fashion magazine.
Andy had been working at Runway for a little over two months as a second personal assistant to its editor-in-chief, Miranda Priestly. Miranda steered the Elias-Clark publication with a firm hand and expected things to be done to an almost insanely exacting degree. She didn't care if it seemed impossible. She didn't care what you had to do to complete the task. She expected the task to be done before she told you to do it and then to have it done to her satisfaction.
There were reasons, after all, why Miranda Priestly had gained the sobriquets "Dragon of Runway" and "The Devil in Prada". Andy had been told several times that a million girls would kill to have her position, but she often thought that it was propaganda used to excuse the beautiful, older woman's terrible behavior. After all, people weren't machines. It didn't hurt to say 'Please' or even 'Thank you' once in a while. And how hard was it to remember her name?
From rumors she'd heard, Miranda's second assistants had a ridiculously short turnover period. One rumor, floating around the floors, wasn't sure whether Miranda had fired an assistant within an hour of approving the girl for hire or whether she had quit. In any case, speculation had the poor ex-assistant being dragged out of the building by security.
Taking a deep fortifying breath, Andy ran a hand across her bangs and 'girded her loins'. She only had to survive another ten months. Once her year was up, she could have her pick of where she wanted to work in the publishing field next. Andy strode forward and stepped into the dragon's lair. Ten minutes later, Miranda arrived and Andy wished that she hadn't scoffed at the chance to work for Auto Universe when HR had offered it to her.
Andy was just taking her jacket off when Miranda swept through the doors to her personal offices with Emily, the first assistant, in tow. Her walk was all natural predator. She stalked across the room wearing heels, inches higher than Andy thought she could manage. Her makeup was impeccable as always and Andy couldn't help but notice how good Miranda looked in the black and grey pinstriped Bill Blass pantsuit she wore. Andy smiled unconsciously, Miranda could be an older version of those models that were featured on the cover of her magazine.
Andy shook herself out of the daze she had fallen into, looking around quickly to see if either of the women had caught her inattention. Neither of them were laughing at her, so she guessed that they hadn't been paying any attention to her lapse of concentration. Andy just managed to move the coffee tray out of the way as Miranda casually dumped her coat and bag on top of Andy's desk in one smooth motion never stopping her machine gun barrage of instructions.
"...Cancel the eight-thirty with Beijing. Move the run-through forward half an hour." Miranda fired off quietly, "Tell Jocelyn that I want those D. Xiu footwear prints by one no make it noon. Push back the meeting with Irvin until three. Remind Cara that the twins will be at practice after school so not to expect them until four-fifteen. That's all."
Emily peeled off having received her last instruction. Andy felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her system as she stepped alone into the office with Miranda's cup of coffee. Miranda was at her desk, already sorting through the paperwork that littered its surface. The coffee cup was swept up to her lips almost before Andy could place it down in its customary position on the desk.
Andy turned quickly to leave, mind lingering on the image of those lips wrapping around the lip of the cardboard cup's cap. She tried, instead, to focus on the initial task-list that Emily would have already typed up for her to do.
"Emily." Miranda said softly and Andy winced. The tone of her voice more than anything told Andy that the mercurial woman wasn't pleased by something. 'Still,' Andy thought, 'was it really so hard to address her by her given name?'
"Yes, Miranda?" Andy inquired, because no other response would have been acceptable.
"What is this?" Miranda placed the coffee gently down at the edge of her desk as if it were a particularly dangerous item.
The careful, precise action made Andy feel apprehensive, and she was hesitant in answering. "Coffee from Coffee-holic on 49th street."
"How hard is it to bring me a decent cup of coffee? I'm not asking for the stars, am I?" Miranda pursed her lips, and Andy got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at the look of disgust that crossed her face. "Don't order from there again," came the quiet command as blue eyes pierced Andy with a look. "Remove that," that obviously being the coffee. "And get me another," from the usual place went unsaid. "That's all."
Andy walked quickly over to the desk and lifted up the cup noting the annoyed exasperation that flashed over Miranda's face before the usual unreadable wall slammed down on her facial expressions. Turning, Andy high-tailed it out of the office with the offending cup of coffee and to the elevators. She didn't realize she was still carrying it until she exited on the ground floor.
Andy didn't see a reason to throw away a perfectly good cup of coffee. If she was already being brought to the rug for something as simple as coffee from a different shop, she knew she'd need the caffeine boost. Andy popped the cap off, took a quick sip... and nearly spit it right back out. The coffee, if you could call it that, was horrible. Instead of the rich java that she had smelled when she stepped into the quaint little shop, she apparently had been given something akin to motor oil sludge. She didn't think that she had ever had anything quite as bad outside of a...well, actually, she didn't think that she'd ever had something so bad.
'No wonder Miranda gave me that look.' Andy thought as the cup immediately found its way into the nearest trash bin, 'She probably thought I was trying to poison her.'
As the day continued, Miranda was in scathingly fine form, and Andy, it seemed, was destined for failure. Andy found herself struggling with the number of things that Miranda required from her. Hour after hour, task after task, Andy found that that it was always one thing.
"Emily," Miranda addressed Andy from the doorway of her office. "Get me Patrick.
"But Miranda," she started, "Patrick's on a plane going over the Alps." Andy swallowed nervously at the glare she received as she tried a different tact, "There's no reception." Miranda continued to stare, her eyebrow arched, waiting. Andy bit her lip and checked her watch. She did some quick calculations, "He'll land in about six hours. I can... I'll put him through." Miranda rolled her eyes before ducking back into her office and Andy blew out a sigh of relief as that shapely form disappeared from view once again.
After another.
Andy ran down the street waving a red leather Lacroix leash wildly in the air, "Whoa, girl! Whoa! Patricia!" Patricia, Miranda's two hundred pound, pure bred Saint Bernard, had barreled over her and ran out the door of the vet's office just as Andy was putting on her leash and was now calmly trotting down Madison toward Central Park. Andy had lost a shoe somewhere on 54th and Madison and tried in vain to walk and undo the other heel's strap at the same time so she could catch up with the damn dog.
After another.
"Shit! Shit!" She muttered the curses under her breath as the computer in front of her proceeded to freeze and then sputter, intermittently. The schedule that Emily had arranged for Miranda flickered briefly before the screen went blue. "Oh, no." Andy said, "No, no, no. Please..."
"What did you do now?" Emily whispered, eying her suspiciously from her desk across the aisle.
"I don't know!" Andy replied, pushing down on the Ctrl + Alt + Delete buttons repeatedly, hoping that it would reset the computer and fix the problem. It didn't. The blue screen of death continued to taunt her.
"Well, stop pounding on it like it'll cough up a candy bar and call tech support before Miranda-"
"Emily?" Came the soft voice that sent a shiver down Andy's spine. She absolutely did not want to admit that the shiver wasn't a bad thing. She looked to the real Emily to see if the call was actually for the 1st assistant. Emily studied her face for a moment with a strange expression on her face like she had just figured something out.
Andy thought that Emily might decide to have pity on her and would explain what had happened to Miranda, but she was disappointed to see the red-head shake her head and point to the open doorway. Emily made a shooing gesture and groaning, Andy stood up from her desk. She threw one last look of betrayal at the computer and hurried into the editor-in-chief's office.
The tipping point occurred after Miranda returned from her morning meetings.
Miranda crossed the length of the floor from the elevators, Emily hurrying quickly after to her own desk. "Where are the prints for the D. Xiu?" Miranda called from her office.
Emily sat down at her desk long enough to grab her purse from a locked drawer. It was time for her lunch. She left the computer running since a Tech Guy had taken over Andy's and Emily had been out with Miranda all morning. Emily shot a glance at Andy and then to the office Miranda had just entered. Taking the hint, Andy stood and walked over to the door.
"Jocelyn called while you were out." Andy began tentatively as Miranda glanced over appraisingly to her, "The lab isn't finished with the prints. There was something about fixing the problem," She paused and thought about it, "or a problem with the fixing solution."
Miranda rolled her eyes as if in benediction to a higher power. "Can someone please tell me why I have to deal with incompetence day after day? Why aren't they using the..." Miranda stopped and calmly sat back in her chair. "Tell Jocelyn that she has until 2pm, no later, to have those prints on my desk, or I will have words with her."
Andy nodded, and started to back away when Miranda stopped her. "What time did Jocelyn call you with this message?"
"About eleven."
"So you've known that there was a problem for two hours?"
"You were out of the office. I thought she would be able to get the prints in on time," she said, remembering Jocelyn's call. The woman had been sure that she would be able to turn in the prints on time, and Andy had believed her. Andy didn't think Miranda would want to hear about another problem from Andy considering the day she was having. So she decided to save the message until Miranda was completely out of her morning meetings.
"Oh, yes because you have so much experience in the publishing field." Miranda dismissed with a snort. "What was it you used to do? Edit a college newspaper?" Miranda asked rhetorically. She swung her chair side to side and her words were laced with annoyance, "If you had any sense you would have called Emily. She would have relayed to me the problem and I would have already determined an adequate resolution which would have allowed Jocelyn to deliver my prints to me on time." Miranda stopped swaying and stared at Andy, her displeasure plain on her face as she coldly mocked, "If you had only thought..."
Throughout her tongue-lashing, Miranda's voice had barely risen above a whisper. Andy could feel tears well in her eyes but she refused to give in. She was upset, frustrated and tired. The day had been full to brimming with a list of things that needed to be done immediately, the clipped words that found error with everything she did and the droning of a phone that had to be answered in the interim. Andy was so very tired and fed up with everything that she found herself barely hanging on to her temper. She knew she had to leave, now, before she said something that would cost her, her job.
"That's all," Miranda dismissed with a wave, going back to her work. Andy turned on her heel quickly and walked out.
That night:
"Nate? I'm home," silence greeted her as she opened the door to a dark apartment, "Nate?" Andy huffed out a tired sigh, letting the front door slip shut behind her. It was closer to ten than nine. Lately, it was always closer to ten by the time Andy finished everything that Miranda required her to do. Andy felt exhaustion saturate every pore in her body.
After Emily tore into her, Andy had been quiet the rest of the day. She felt contemplative and thoroughly chastised. She kept expecting Emily to bring up her rant in the Green Room, but Emily didn't rehash the event. In fact, Emily acted as if nothing at all had happened. She just seemed to expect Andy to 'get on with it', treating Andy the same way she had before she had verbally bitch slapped Andy with her own version of Nigel's speech.
She slipped off her heels, wincing at the chill of the cold hardwood floor against her aching feet. She leaned against the closed door, steadying herself. She raised a foot and bracing it against the opposite knee, slid a thumb firmly along the tightened tendon that made up the arch of her foot. She could feel the firm pressure ease the strained tendons and started to relax. She repeated the action to her other foot before hobbling slightly into the bedroom to change.
Andy padded out a little while later feeling much better. She was barefooted, dressed in a pair of cotton workout shorts and a threadbare Northwestern hoodie. She had also taken the time to scrub off her makeup and had pulled her long hair into a sloppy but manageable ponytail.
A quick trip to the kitchen procured for her a glass of wine, which she sipped as she popped a frozen dinner into the microwave. Nate probably would have been struck speechless, if he'd seen her pull one of those out. 'But then again,' came the thought, 'Nate isn't here to judge me.'
The beep of the microwave timer pulled Andy's attention away momentarily while she set out her dinner in the living room. Andy ate but she felt like she was on autopilot as she worried at the problem like a loose tooth. She didn't really want to think about it but she knew she couldn't continue ignoring the difficulties she was having in her relationship. Andy and Nate had been together for a long time before they had moved in together and she could feel that neither one of them were happy with things the way they were.
Truthfully, Andy wasn't really all that surprised to find that Nate had gone out for the evening. He had been doing that with more, and more frequency as the months went by. He was rarely at the apartment when she was anymore. When he was, they barely spoke except to argue about the strain Andy's job was placing on their relationship.
Afterward, they'd have makeup sex or Nate would storm out of the apartment for hours on end, not returning until very late at night or early morning. Lately, the latter event happened more often. Andy was rather relieved that Nate was out and she didn't have to deal with the drama. But she knew she would have to speak with him soon because, as it stood their relationship wasn't healthy anymore.
Soft snores rose from the couch where Andy had fallen into a light doze. The sporadic, flickering from the muted television screen faded against the brightening glow of the pale pre-dawn sky that seeped through curtained windows. The sound of the front door unlocking woke Andy. Her blurry eyes opened a crack to see Nate entering. She sat up from the couch to greet him, noticing as she turned towards him, the clock on the DVD steadily glowing the time. It was one in the morning.
"Hey, baby," Nate slurred his words slightly as he sat down next to Andy on the couch. He leaned in for a kiss and Andy could smell alcohol, the scent of another woman's perfume on his skin, and the musky scent of sex. Disgusted, she turned her head to the side so that he only managed to brush his lips against her cheek.
"Hey. What's wrong?" He asked, reaching to pull her into an embrace. Andy pushed off his arms and stood from the couch. She was so mad at him right now. Her fist curling and uncurling at her sides. She never thought that he would so far as to sleep with another woman.
"I'm going to the bedroom." She stepped around him, brushing aside his reaching hands. "You're sleeping on the couch." Nate seemed to realize that something was wrong but Andy ignored his contrite pleas and demands to talk. "Not now, Nate," she retorted as she made her way to the bedroom doorway.
"Andy? Please," he said. She looked back at him. "I miss you." He hovered on the other side of the couch, his hand reaching for her.
"I miss you too, Nate," She said. The bedroom door closed with a sense of finality.
