The modern woman
“Hello, this is Anna’s phone. Marcy speaking.”
“Anna is in a show right now. And no I’m not her assistant.”
“How am I supposed to know what she is doing later? I’m a deputy editor. Call her assistant if you want to know about her party schedule tonight,” Marcy told the odious person on the other end of the call and hung up.
She wished there were still flip phones. The flipping of the phone closed was much more dramatic than just hitting an illuminated red button. Deputy Editor and she was answering her boss’s phone while her boss was inside at a show. Ridiculous. She was supposed to be in there, but Kanye and Kim had showed up out of blue and asked for seats in polite voices. No one had seen them in months. The photographers had been going crazy and then Helmut looked at her and just mouthed the word Sorry to her.
Marcy’s other phone, her phone buzzed, and she juggled the Chanel gift bag and her folder to her other hand.
“Hello, this is Marcy.”
“Marcy, hey how are you doing?” Her brother asked.
“Little busy Marcus. What’s up?”
“Mom’s not doing so well.”
“She’s never doing well,” Marcy told him feeling her heart start to beat a bit faster.
“This time it seems different,” Marcus told her with a twinge of worry in his voice.
“What do you mean it’s different. Details please.”
“Marcy, it’s worse. I’m taking her to Doctor Thieabult this afternoon.”
“You were just there a week ago!”
“Yeah, well when you are cleaning up shit off the couch you can decide when to take mom back to see her doctor. I’m pushing for hospice. I can’t deal with this shit anymore Marce. I have a life too you know. Have fun in Paris.”
The line went silent and Marcy looked at her phone. That little shit had hung up on her. The life her brother always claimed to have was sitting in his apartment playing video games when he wasn’t coding. He must have forgotten the two years when Marcy had stayed at home taking care of their Dad while he was in college and their mom was in her “liberation phase” of dating men when she was fifty. Fucking divorced parents. Fucking Alzheimer's disease.
Marcy looked around and saw all the street photographers taking pictures of everyone on the street. If she made it on a blog that would be a nice change. The Burberry trench she was wearing had set her back about a month’s rent, but it was her favorite. She could put it on when she was feeling insecure and it made everything better. Sort of like her Tom Ford sunglasses.
Her phone buzzed once. Email.
Hey Marcy, see the attached for the story we want to run on the blog. I made some of the changes you requested, but I mean the others? Come on. Let me have at least some of my voice come through? I’m not trying to fight you on this, but I feel like you are just hamstringing me every time I send you something a bit out of the purview of the magazine. Try and let me know what you think ASAP. Anna said she wanted it posted earlier than usual to try and catch Hong Kong because it’s you know about the history of Chinese fashion and it’s influence on the current meta or whatever. She threw the word zeitgeist around. Hope Paris is cool. Eat a croissant for me. — Sam
Sam-fucking-Grenier always complaining about her trying to make him sound more like an adult that was writing for the premiere fashion magazine of the world as opposed to the frat boy who drank like he was still in school. Anna liked him though. She said he had a fresh take on things, a different perspective, he was there to add spice to the pot. Marcy was there to make sure he didn’t ruin the soup.
She opened the story and started reading. It wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t their usual piece either. Marcy re-read it a few more times and she could feel the syncopated rhythm and wry humor Sam was attempting to push through. He was mocking his employer in a not so subtle way. Fuck it. Anna was sitting front row and she was out here playing assistant.
Sam, I read it. I think you are on a dangerous line and it feels really fresh. I’ll move it forward to Anna.
Marcy forwarded the story to Anna and felt Anna’s phone buzz in her pocket a moment later. Helmut caused quite a stir when he banned phones from his show. Anna had not been pleased with that stipulation when she handed her phone off to Marcy.
Her phone buzzed again.
Marcy, the co-op board has approved your application! Congrats on being part of the community. We look forward to you being here and just remember to schedule movers on weekday during business hours or after 10 AM on the weekends. You can pick up your keys whenever you are back in town.
Finally. Marcy had been under consideration for four months. Her loan had been approved for over a year. Her real estate agent was probably dancing a jig in the bar. A 7% commission on what she was paying wasn’t bad for a few months work.
Buzz. Text.
Your United Airlines flight from CDG to SIN has been delayed an hour. For more updates please download the United Airlines app.
Marcy sighed. Where was Anna? The show was supposed to be over half an hour ago. She sat down on a bench. Her phone was below 20% battery. Anna’s phone was somehow still above 90%. Anna was still an inspiration despite everything she did. She had things together — even in her darkest moments Anna was always in control.
Her phone buzzed repeatedly. It was Brian.
“Hey B.”
“Hey Marce, your flight got delayed and it looks like I’ll probably arrive in Singapore before you. Want me to pick you up anything for you while I’m hanging out?” Brian asked.
Marcy smiled for what felt like the first time in a few days.
“I would love it if you could get me some of that wine we had when were in Burgundy. What was that vineyard again?”
“Oh the Grand Crus Latour?”
“Yes! If we can have a bottle of that together when I get there I think it will make this day so much better.”
“I’ll get it. Oh yeah, don’t forget to pack your pajamas in your carry on this time. You don’t want to fly in your fashion clothes again.”
“I already packed them this morning before I left the hotel.”
“Ok great, remember how cranky you were last time?” Brian asked her while laughing.
Only Brian would laugh at how crazy she was after a twelve hour trip in tight clothes and uncomfortable underwear.
“Anna is getting out of the show now. I’ll call you back when I’m at the airport.”
“Remember to talk to her about that thing. Love you,” He told her before hanging up.
Anna’s pageboy haircut bobbed it’s way through the fashion photographers and crowd from the show and made it’s way towards Marcy. Anna’s assistant trailed behind here with his head down and pencil moving over a notepad. He almost tripped a few times on the cobblestones.
“Marcy, I’m so sorry about handing my phone off to you. But Helmut was just crazy about not letting phones in. He only let in one photographer. I mean this is crazy. The whole world is going to be talking about this. He made us walk through these detectors. Said it was part of the concept and it was maybe the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever seen. We need to be first on this. Where is Darren?”
Anna’s assistant shuffled forward and handed over sketches of the collection. Darren had graduated top of his class at Parsons and had somehow decided that being Anna’s assistant was a good idea. He was fast in his sketching and Marcy could already tell that they were sitting on probably the best collection of the season here by looking at the sketches.
“So what I need you to do is write a full article on this for publication tomorrow New York time Marcy. Can you do that? I mean I know you were supposed to go to Singapore tonight. That can wait can’t it? Darren will be forwarding you his sketches as he finishes them. I want them featured in the piece next to the photographs once they are available to public.”
Marcy felt her blood boil, “No, Singapore can’t wait till tomorrow. I’ll write it on the plane.”
“Oh dear, you remember what happened last time you wrote something on the plane?” Anna asked.
“That won’t happen again Anna. That was years ago, I was your assistant then, and I doubt Ryan Gosling will be sitting next to me this time. I’m much different now,” Marcy told her in a very controlled voice.
“Yes, I suppose the chances of Ryan Gosling being on this flight are pretty slim. Darren, you know you are looking at the best assistant I’ve ever had right? During my divorce Marcy ran the magazine for about a week in my absence. I mean I was coaching her the whole time and she was speaking for me most of the time, but in that week I knew she was more than an assistant.”
“I’ve heard the story a few times,” Darren said absentmindedly while sketching more of what he had seen.
“Anna, here is your phone.”
“Oh thank you, did anyone call?”
“Just someone trying to invite you to a party. I told her I wasn’t your assistant and didn’t know your schedule.”
“I should have given you Darren’s phone too. That way you could have put it in the schedule if it was someone important. Anything else?”
“I’m quitting,” Marcy told her.
“You quit smoking years ago Marcy. Don’t tell me you started again,” Anna told her with a wave.
“Anna, I’m quitting the magazine. I’ve been offered Editor in Chief at T Magazine.”
“You are leaving us for the Times?” Anna asked incredulously. “That’s like trading in your Ferrari for a Volvo.”
“Brian and I are slowing down our lives. We are going to try and start a family.”
Anna’s face went through a few emotions behind her sunglasses. She smiled and said, “Very well. I guess I couldn’t hang on to you forever. Let me know if you need anything from me during the transition. Do you know who could replace you or do I need to get HR to hire someone?”
“Why don’t you give Sam a shot?” Marcy asked.
Anna visibly rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “I hired him to add spice. A spice can’t be a chef. I’ll deal with it. Just make sure that article is done by tomorrow.”
Anna walked away and Darren handed her a sketch before he followed her. At the bottom of the sketch he had scrawled a note.
You’ve got more balls than me.
Marcy laughed and requested an Uber.
End.
