Chapter 13
"Good morning, good morning, good morning!"
Susanna awoke to a singing, far too cheerful voice. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her back as Vivian bounced into the room. The merry redhead bounded onto her bed, springing on the mattress.
"Ugh," Susanna moaned. "Why, why so early?" she said, looking at the clock. She then groaned to see it flashing 5:30 A.M.
"Well, wake up and I'll show you!" Vivian sang, flicking on the lights.
100-watt light flooded the room, and Susanna shrieked, burying her head in the pillows.
"Go away," she mumbled, muffled in the fabric.
"Come on, this is important!" Vivian said, grabbing Susanna's arm and rolling her onto her back.
"Wha-" but Susanna never finished the question. Once on her back, she opened her eyes to see Vivian's hand in her face. But it was not a naked hand. A huge, sparkling diamond ring glittered on her left ring finger.
Susanna gasped, her mouth hanging open. She seized the hand and sat up straighter. Her eyes grew large and she almost forgot to breathe. She was fixated by the enormous diamond that seemingly weighed Vivian's whole hand down.
"He asked last night," Vivian said with a squeal, a perpetual grin on her face. "We're going to be married in a week!"
This brought Susanna to her senses. She dropped the hand and now turned her gaping face to Vivian.
"A week?!" she yelped.
Vivian nodded. "In Italy!"
"Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa, slow down a second," Susanna said, holding her hands up in surrender. "You've known this guy how long?"
"A month!" Vivian said. "The best month of my life," she added dreamily.
"And now you're getting married in a week? A week?" Susanna demanded.
"Yes! It's going to be fabulous."
"But after only a month?" she asked harshly.
"Yes… aren't you happy for me?" Vivian asked, a little deflated.
Susanna paused. "It's just so… fast, don't you think?"
"You think it's a bad idea," Vivian said. "I knew you would, I knew you wouldn't approve," she said, getting off the bed.
"No, Viv, it's not that," Susanna said, getting out to follow her. She tripped a little on the bedsheets, and had to trot to catch up with Vivian.
"Wait… Viv…"
"Susanna," Vivian said, stopping in the middle of the stairs to turn to her friend, "do you think it's too fast?"
"Well, yes," Susanna said truthfully.
"And because it's so fast it won't last, right?"
Susanna bit her lip. Her pause said everything.
"I knew it. I knew you couldn't be happy for me," Vivian continued, going down the stairs.
"Viv, it's not that, I am happy for you…"
"No, you're not, Suzy, don't lie to me!" Vivian said, close to the door. She turned with her hand on the knob.
"It's just that generally when people get married so soon it doesn't work!" Susanna tried to reason.
"Suzy, have you ever been in love?"
Susanna hesitated. She thought for a moment, and then said, "No," taking her gaze from Vivian to the floor.
Vivian sighed. "Then you have no right to judge mine." She turned the door knob and left.
Susanna felt like she had been slapped in the face, looking at the closed door. What the hell kind of friend was she? To not even congratulate her friend on her engagement…
Her head hurt from being awoken so early and abruptly. Suddenly, she felt something she rarely felt: a well of tears behind her eyes. How pathetic was she? There she stood, alone in her great big apartment, in the hallway with her designer pajamas on, staring at the door through which her friend had just left because she couldn't even be happy that her friend was in love.
Whether it was from her teary-eyed sleepiness, or her realization of her extreme wretched state, she took the phone off an end table and dialed a number.
"Are you in love?" she said, not caring if her gloom could be heard through the phone.
"Susanna? Is that you?" She had woken Ryan up.
"Are you in love?" she repeated.
"What's wrong? You sound terrible… did something happen? Are you alright?"
She paused. "Are you in love?"
"Susanna…"
"Are you?"
He hesitated, a heavy silence. "Yes."
A tear ran down her cheek. She held her head in her free hand. "Has everyone been except me?"
"Stay there, I'm coming over." There was a click, and then the dial tone returned. The tears began to fall, and Susanna hung up the phone and sat miserably on the stairs. What was wrong with her? She drew her knees to her chest and placed her head down on them, her shoulders shaking. There was definitely something psychologically wrong with her. But how could Vivian find someone so quickly that not only did she love but that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with? Meanwhile, Susanna pretended to not be in love just to save face. It takes guts to admit that you love someone so much you'll love them for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health. She couldn't applaud Vivian for that? No, she just had to be angry that she didn't have the guts herself.
There was a soft knock at the door, and then it was opened. The dim light from the lobby cast an odd beam across the apartment's dark hall, landing on Susanna, who didn't look up.
"Oh no," she heard Ryan say softly, followed by his hurried footsteps. She felt an arm wrap around her, but she tensed.
"You shouldn't have come," she choked. "It's too embarrassing."
She tried to swiftly wipe her face, but he took her hands and wrapped them in both his own.
"Vivian's engaged," she said in a hushed, shaky voice. "She's only known him for a month... I didn't even congratulate her."
He pressed his forehead to hers, and tipped her chin so she was forced to look in his eyes.
"I couldn't even be happy for my own friend! And why? Because I'm not happy myself? That's no excuse, but it's true," she continued, before he could speak. She felt frightened to hear what he would say, so she went on. "Vivian's found someone she can be with the rest of her life and I… I haven't found anyone… not anyone who would want me, anyways…"
"Susanna, shhh," he interrupted, putting a finger to her lips. He paused, before saying, "I know we haven't exactly… gotten along," he began in a husky whisper. "But ever since I've come here I've… I care about you so much, Susanna. I don't know why, but you've become someone I look forward to hearing from, to seeing… whether you be arranging hats or yelling at my brother…"
She chuckled, and he smiled, feeling encouraged.
"You're an amazing person, Susanna. And whether I want to admit it or not… I want you in my life, Susanna… you're not going to end up alone. And yes, actually, I am in love…"
She tensed, and drew a little away from him. Somehow, she had become scared. Terrified, even. Hearing all those things, she felt maybe she could… but no, he was in love, and it wasn't with her.
"With Darcy," she said. "You're in love with Darcy."
It was nearly pitch black, and she couldn't see his face. Something told her his eyes had fallen, though. His hands relaxed, and he also pulled away a little.
"Yes," he said, as if it weren't quite true. "Yes, I am."
Even though she knew it, her heart fell a little at those words. This whole thing had shown Susanna her true nature, and she wasn't happy with it. Why hadn't she been happy for Vivian? Why couldn't she be happy for Ryan and Darcy?
Because they had exactly what she wanted. Her! Susanna! The cold-hearted, sarcastic, cynical… yet why was she all those things? Because she had always thought that love wasn't needed to be happy; it was, after all, how she had grown up. But she wanted to be in love! She wanted to hop on an airplane and get married in Italy!
Judging by what Ryan's hand was making her feel, however, she wanted all those things with him.
This realization hit Susanna like a gunshot. Her tears suddenly stopped and she wiped them quickly.
"I should get back to bed, I have to go to work," she said softly.
He nodded. "You're right. Goodbye, Susanna," he said. He then gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and then left, shutting out the lobby light completely.
Ryan closed the door slowly, reluctantly. There were so many thoughts swimming through his mind, he hardly knew where to begin.
How about starting with that thrumming in your heart?
He sighed as he pressed the button for the lowest floor. It was as he had always feared… he had feelings for Susanna. Strong feelings. But she didn't feel the same, that he knew. She, for all her knowledge and passion and beauty, would never be capable of returning any form of love.
It truly was Darcy, then. Despite his best attempts, the thought disappointed him. Although he had thought that being with Darcy would be more adventurous, he found himself longing for the excitement that a relationship with Susanna could bring. He wanted to be around her laughter, her bravery… even her cynicism. But a woman like Susanna was not for loving; she was for wanting. She was the epitome of that woman whom every man loved to want, but knew they could never have.
Which leaves that woman very much alone.
Susanna got into the elevator, ready for the day. She felt infinitely better than she had that morning; she had gone back to where she felt safest: her haven of cynicism. Sure, it may not be the healthiest way to deal with problems, but for Susanna it was the only way. She was also ready to apologize profusely to her best friend and make mends.
Dressed in a fire-red leather skirt and white top, Susanna leaned against the mirrored wall. She attempted to block the flood of thoughts that threatened to overtake her mind; she had been doing the same all morning.
The elevator stopped at the 22nd floor, and Fraulein VanAvryn, a wealthy, yet kind, German woman came aboard. She smiled warmly at Susanna.
"Guten morgen, Susanna," she said.
"Guten morgen, Fraulein," Susanna answered.
"You look forlorn," the fraulein said. "Vhat is wrong?"
Susanna smiled. "Nothing, Fraulein."
"Ah… lofe gone wrong, hm?" the shrewd elderly woman said.
Susanna chuckled, but decided to tell the truth. "You could say that."
"Of course. And vhat hafe you decided?"
Susanna paused. "I've decided love is foolish."
"Ah, but is foolish not in the definition of lofe?" she retorted.
"Well, I am not foolish," Susanna said.
"Eferyone who iz made for lofing iz foolish."
"Perhaps I'm not made for loving, then, eh?" Susanna said with knowing smile, cocking her eyebrow. The doors opened and she stepped out, bidding Fraulein VanAvryn goodbye.
Once at work, Susanna took care of some immediate business, and then picked up the phone. She dialed Vivian's number.
"Hi, Viv, it's me," she said, sounding miserable and despondent.
She heard Vivian take a deep breath. "Hi, Suzy."
The nickname lifted Susanna's spirits. "Listen, about this morning-"
"Forget it," Vivian said.
"No, I was being stupid, I don't have any-"
"Suzy, I understand," Vivian interrupted again.
"You do?"
"Yeah, of course. It's you, Suzy. I hope you don't find offense to this, but I kind of expected you to react like that."
"Why?"
"Well, face it, Suzy, you're pessimistic. You're cynical. And you've never really been in love, right?"
Susanna's mind's eye saw Ryan for a moment. "Right."
"And quite frankly you may never be. But I want you to be there, more than anyone. You're my best friend, Suzy, and I can't get married if you're not there," Vivian said, a pleading tone to her voice.
Susanna sighed. The little voice inside her head was screaming that this marriage could never possibly work… but it was her friend. Her best friend… perhaps her only friend.
"Of course," Susanna said.
"Oh, thank you, Suzy! It's going to be in Venice next Saturday." Vivian paused. "But you have to admit it's romantic, right?"
Susanna chuckled. "Yeah, it's romantic."
Vivian giggled. "Thank you, Susanna. Really."
"I know," Susanna said.
"See you there, then?"
"Yeah. See you."
They hung up, and Susanna resumed her normal work. She had barely opened a drawer, however, when Darcy came through the door.
"I'm sorry, Miss Bennet, but I just can't take it anymore!" the girl cried.
"What?" Susanna asked, curious.
"Ryan has called five times already this morning. And every time, he always asks 'you still love me, right?' What do you say to that?" Darcy said, her eyes almost maniacal.
"Oh no," Susanna said. "I am officially not the love advice central. In fact, I'm probably the exact opposite," she said broodingly, thinking of what both Fraulein VanAvryn and Vivian had said.
"Oh right. I remember Mr. Simmons' secretary telling me that," Darcy said.
This caught Susanna's attention. "She told you what, exactly?"
Darcy became uneasy. "Nothing," she said, backing toward the door, "just that you're cynical yet beautiful so you'll probably never love anyone, okay, bye," she said quickly, shutting the door.
Susanna grunted in frustration. Did everyone just assume that she could never love? That she was just some sort of machine that hated everything and could never be capable of returning any sort of feeling?
Did Ryan think that?
Probably. Especially after that morning… and now he's calling Darcy every five minutes. It was so obvious that he loved Darcy, so why must she keep thinking about him? Why must she keep thinking about the way his touch had made her feel, or even the fact that he had come over in the first place made her feel? Why was she falling in love at the utterly wrong moment?
She plopped into her chair and stared pensively at her computer screen. It was time to write her column for Vogue, and for whatever reason, she felt more inspired than ever.
Dear readers, she wrote:
I usually use this column to divulge my thoughts on the latest runways and designers. Yet today I would like us, both you and I, to step out of the immediate fantastical, fairy-tale world of fashion, just for a moment, and look at the broader picture.
It has come to my attention that I, a prime figure in the fashion world, have been construed to many as a cynical, incapable-of-love robot. And while I am still on a search to decide whether or not this is true, I would like to ponder why I am not the only one interpreted as such.
The realm of fashion is, let's face it, superficial and merely aesthetic. And while clothes can make ones body feel rather spectacular, it does nothing for the nature of your soul. I, for one, can testify for this. I have worn designer clothes probably every day of my life; knowing my mother, my diapers were most likely Versace. However, if fashion could make a person's spirit feel wonderful, why are many fashion magnates painted as I am?
I will admit that in recent times, truthfully in just the last few days, I have felt something that I will assume resembles love. But I wonder if another profession could have made me a more feeling, emotionally-in-tune person.
Don't get me wrong. I am perfectly happy with the way that I am, and my one true passion is fashion (no rhyme intended). But do you ever wonder if when you have so much passion for one thing it lets you save none for anything else?
My point, however vague or far-fetched, is that many in the fashion industry are just as I am: distant, unattached, and misunderstood. Are we the products of our vocation? Or is the vocation a product of us: are distant and unattached persons attracted to this field of work?
Perhaps this is far too much to decide in one mere column. But I ask you, my informed and perchance in-love reader, do you know the answer? Because, to tell you the truth, I haven't the vaguest idea.
She hit enter and sent the column to Vogue. She took a deep breath; she had pretty much just poured out her thoughts to a reader-base that reached the far corners of the world. What were the consequences?
"I just need some answers," she said exasperatedly to herself. She sighed and grabbed her purse and jacket, and went to lunch.
She was sitting in her usual spot in Bryant Park when she saw Keith walking toward her. She sighed; their 'relationship', if you could call it that, had been a strange thing. It had been a few days of sizzle and then it was gone. She knew the end was near, but gave a hopefully-cheerful smile as he sat down.
"We need to talk," he said right away.
She was a little shocked that he was so frank, but nodded. "I know."
"Susanna, honestly… I don't want to beat around the bush," he said.
"Please don't," she encouraged.
"I don't think this is going anywhere. You're gorgeous and captivating, but… honestly, Susanna, you're just not girlfriend-material."
Susanna nearly choked on her sandwich. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or to be angry.
"It's just that I'm in a place in my life where I'm ready to find someone for life, and you're not that. Let's face it, we had our fun, but you're just not at the emotional and intellectual place that I am."
That comment made Susanna begin to get angry.
"And besides, I've been thinking, and I think you're just not able to truly love," he continued.
Susanna locked her jaw and sarcastically counted her fingers. "Okay that's one, two, three… four! Four people who have said that today!"
"You just aren't there yet," Keith said. "You may be able to use your body to substitute for love, but you haven't matured enough to let someone love you the way they deserve."
"The way they deserve?" she repeated, incensed.
"Yes. It's unfair to the other person to not give yourself to them fully. It's not what they want."
"Not what they want? How about what I want, huh? Huh, Keith? Ever think of that? Ever think that maybe it's just that I haven't found the right person yet, that magical person who I'll be 'able' to love?" she said angrily, her voice rising. "No, you didn't. You just thought of the poor shmuck who finds me first, and who thinks he somehow is someone qualified enough to expect that I give up my whole soul to him. Well, let me tell you something, Keith, until I find someone else whom I deem 'qualified' enough to love, you can expect the same distrustful, cynical, disparaging Susanna you've always known," she ranted, grabbing her trash angrily and storming away.
She let out her breath slowly as she walked back to the building. It had felt great to finally get all of that out; it had surely been bottled in her all day. The whole day had been one huge emotional roller coaster, and it wasn't even past midday and she was fatigued beyond belief. Her head kept reeling with thoughts: thoughts of Ryan, of herself, and of Vivian. She trudged back to her office, where she found Darcy face-down on the desk.
"Darcy? What's wrong?" Susanna asked carefully. She didn't really want to hear about Ryan right now.
"It's Ryan," Darcy moaned. Of course. "He's been calling nonstop all morning, and it's driving me crazy!" She paused. "Do you think I could work overtime tonight?"
Susanna shrugged. "I guess. If you can find something to do."
"I will, thank you Miss Bennet," Darcy said. "I just need some time away from…" she hesitated. "… New York," she finished.
Susanna nodded. "Stay as long as you like, I suppose. Oh, and book a flight to Venice for Thursday night."
"Yes," Darcy said. "Why are you going to Venice?" she said in an oddly curious voice.
"A wedding," Susanna replied with an inward groan.
"Are you going alone?"
"Yes," Susanna said. "Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"No reason, it's just… do you think… maybe… can I come with you?" Darcy finally pleaded.
Susanna thought for a moment. The little demon inside her mind wanted anything to get Darcy away from Ryan, so she said, "I guess so."
"Oh! Thank you Miss Bennet! I won't be a bother, I promise!" Darcy said. Thrilled, she wrapped Susanna into a hug.
Susanna was so surprised, she stiffened and nodded. "Sure, just calm down."
"Sorry."
Susanna nodded and went into her office. Unwilling to ponder what just happened, she fell into a chair and went back to work.
A week later, Ryan sat miserably in his penthouse, watching Darcy pack. It had been a nightmarish week: he and Darcy had barely gotten along, especially after he had been angry that she was going to Venice, and with Susanna of all people. And then there were those times when he was with Darcy and yet he thought only of Susanna; he had tried to call her but had hung up every time.
"You can still call my cell phone," Darcy was saying, in that impatient voice she had been using all week. "And it's only three days."
He shrugged and didn't stand when Darcy went for the door. She sighed and plopped her bags at the door, coming over to give him a kiss.
"See you later, Ryan," she said.
"Bye. Fly safe," he said, automatically recalling his mother.
She smiled and then left, the door closing with a slight clatter. Without thinking, he picked up the phone and called Susanna. The phone rang and rang… she might have left already. He left the couch and went out the door, feeling the burning desire to see her before she left. He walked quickly to her building, shivering in the autumn wind.
He was jogging toward an open elevator when the doors began to close.
"Hold the door!" he called, and the doors reopened. He hopped inside and caught his breath.
"Thank y-" he started to say. He had turned to his fellow rider, who was none other than Susanna's (good for nothing, sleazy, undeserving) boy toy Keith. Keith uncomfortably recognized Ryan as well.
"You're welcome," he said stiffly, holding out his hand.
Ryan shook it slowly. "I don't know if Susanna's left yet," he said.
Keith sighed. "Oh. Well, I wouldn't know."
Ryan was suspicious. "Why?"
Keith locked his jaw and cast a glance over Ryan. "We broke up."
Something celebrated inside Ryan, but he kept a cool demeanor. "Oh. I'm sorry."
"But now… it was a mistake, I know it was!" Keith suddenly burst out. "She was perfect, and I let her get away! I have to get her back, even if it means going to Venice myself!" he said resolutely.
The words clicked in Ryan's brain. "Of course!" he said. "Why can't we go to Venice? It's perfect! You can get Susanna back," (although he secretly groaned at the thought) "and I can make sure everything's okay with Darcy!"
"Yeah," Keith agreed. "Why shouldn't we?"
"Let's go!" Ryan urged him. They shook hands again, and promptly pressed the button to go back to down to the lobby. And then, they would be off to Venice.