The Bennet Women

by Eden Appiah-Kubi

  And so EJ carried on. She counseled her residents. Dia came by pretty much every day for two weeks. She worked steadily on her Fields Fellowship application and practiced new ballroom routines with Franz. She fielded a surprising number of requests to rehearse in the “big common room” at Bennet House. She started ballet again, and it was wonderful.

  She’d forgotten how much she liked the ritual of class. Stretching and chatting while rolling off her leg warmers, tendus and battements at the barre, the sound of eleven women jumping at once. She’d missed all this. Her fellow students were a delight as well. While there was one dance minor who was still pursuing a career, most of the other women had a story like EJ’s: one was too short, another way too tall at five feet, eleven inches. One didn’t have the turnout; another’s family wasn’t willing to support her through her apprentice years.

  The person EJ felt the most for was the woman who’d realized that she just wasn’t talented enough to go pro. She was a good technical dancer but didn’t have the extra thing you needed to make a career. EJ was honest with her new friends in a way she couldn’t be with anyone else. There was an instant level of understanding.

  About three weeks into the semester, EJ and her new friend, Yuna, were waiting their turn to go across the floor. She was marking the combination when she noticed Yuna glaring out the window in the door.

  “One of the tappers keeps looking in here,” she explained. “It’s so rude.” They moved into parallel position, and for thirty seconds, EJ’s focus was on her steps as she crossed the floor, dancing the combination.

  And balancé, balancé, prepare, then leap.

  Though she still watched her arms in the mirror and thought of ways to improve, dancing as an engineer with a hobby was much less stressful than as a sixteen-year-old trying to break into the ballet world. She felt so much freer—and there were no toe shoes! It was nice.

  They finished with a double pirouette and got back in line to wait for their next turn. Yuna checked the door again. “He’s still staring at us!” she growled. “Go!” she mouthed to the door, making a shooing motion.

  EJ glanced over in time to see the peeping tapper look stricken and turn away. It was Will.

  “Oh!” she cried out.

  Yuna turned to her. “Oh indeed?” She looked from EJ to the door and then to EJ again. “Was he the guy who complicated your Winter Break?”

  EJ was purposely silent. She’d accidentally let a small bit of her whole thing with Will slip, and Yuna was, well, nosy.

  “I’m going to call him back, then.” Yuna smiled wickedly. “I’m getting the whole thing out of one of you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she gasped.

  “Oh, EJ, you should know by now that I dare, all the time.”

  She did not care for the gleam in Yuna’s eye. Thankfully, they were called to center for the end of class.

  Once they were done, EJ hastily threw on her winter coat, scarf, and boots. Yuna would take her time putting on her many layers; she was a sophomore from Lebanon and still not yet used to the cold. With a wave to their dance instructor, EJ rushed into the hall and ran straight into Will.

  “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed.

  “That’s my line,” she replied.

  Will gave an odd small smile. “Would you mind stepping in here with me? This will only take a second.”

  EJ followed him into the small, empty classroom without comment. This felt like destiny. She had seen neither hide nor hair of Will for a month—besides that SNL GIF. Then she talked about him to Maya and voilà! He appeared the next day. She decided to just go with whatever happened in this moment. It was probably going to be their last interaction.

  “My sister said I should talk with you,” she offered, shifting her dance duffel to the other shoulder.

  He was unzipping his messenger bag. “Really?” he said, looking up. “My sister and one of my best friends said the same thing. Funny old world.” He gave a short laugh.

  You’re telling me, thought EJ. She bit her lip and was trying to think of how to begin when Will produced a thick envelope with her name written on the front in neat handwriting.

  “This is what I owe you.” He hesitated before handing it over. “Okay, I’ve gotta go tap.”

  Will rushed out of the room. EJ looked after him, amazed.

  “And we’re back to weird Will,” she said aloud. She looked at the letter in her hand, then shoved it into her dance duffel. She had a meeting with her advisor in an hour, class in the afternoon, and then ballroom practice tonight. She knew from Jamie that Will was going Cosmic Bowling with Lee and a few of his friends, so they weren’t going to have the chance to talk things out tonight anyway.

  He could wait until she was good and ready.

  EJ stepped outside the classroom and took a breath. She felt like her duffel weighed an extra five pounds. Now to pretend like it was an ordinary day until at least nine tonight.

  THE LETTER AND AFTER

  Dear EJ,

  You’re probably surprised to be receiving this letter—or any letter since it’s the twenty-first century, and I’m not a mortgage company. But after my first stalker, I learned that there are no secrets on the internet, so I couldn’t risk emailing this or even saving it electronically since most of the secrets within aren’t my own.

  Let me start at last December. After our argument, I had every intention of ignoring you for the rest of the semester and then forgetting you after graduation. That was the case until I vented about you to Zara. (She says hi, BTW.) She reminded me of how appallingly I behaved to you, your friends, and the staff at Cousin Nicky’s—who I now know are very dear to you. Then she asked what I had done to apologize, and like a cold slap, I realized that I had done nothing. Despite being, by all accounts, the entitled terror that made Jordan’s story believable, the thought hadn’t even occurred to me.

  Although it’s very, very late in the game, I’d like to do so, now. (With an additional apology for the one-night-stand comment. That was uncalled for.) For my behavior then and my subsequent arrogance, I can only say I’m sorry, EJ.

  Now to answer why I cared so much about setting the record straight: Jordan is at the center of how I almost lost my sister and how I got her back again. She is the person I love most in the world and the reason I cannot let whatever he said stand. Please read patiently; this is a long story.

  Jordan and I became friends at a crucial time in my life, during my parents’ separation and divorce. His mother was my mother’s best friend, and she rushed to my mother’s side after my father moved out. Their family stayed with us, Jordan’s mom supported mine, and he supported me. I’d become increasingly withdrawn as the reality of the divorce dawned on me, but he was one of the very few people who could get me to put down my books and play. Lily would have been jealous of anyone else hogging her big brother, but she loved Jordan, too. Everyone did. I even owe him my acting career. Before the final legal proceedings, my mom offered to send me anywhere I wanted to go. I chose drama camp because Jordan was going.

  Sadly, we both lost our mothers in different ways. My mom was killed in a car accident and his died of an aneurysm. We tried to keep in touch for a while, brothers in grief, but I lost track of him after he went to live with his uncle. I didn’t know what happened to him until Lily told me he was at her high school, Hanover. I’ve provided all this history to say that no one would have been happier than me for Jordan and Lily to get together if she were interested in men. This is the part of Jordan’s lie that was most maddening. It was so blatantly false. If Lily had public socials, it could have been disproven in seconds. She’s been out and proud since ninth grade—another source of tension with my father. Jordan was just her friend . . . and then her dealer. Lily’s freshman year at Hanover was miserable. Before she died, Mom had sole custody of us, and my father hadn’t exerted himself terrifically to be involved. After Mom’s accident he packed Lily off to boarding school as soon as he could. Having his teenage daugh
ter around made him look a little creaky to his new trophy fiancée. Making things worse, she struggled academically and was very frustrated. Lily had always been an effortlessly smart kid, so it shocked her to have to work so hard for just okay grades. She thrived on the tennis team (the sport was her true passion), but this didn’t matter to our father. He was almost solely interested in her academic performance.

  During this time, I was in LA. Dad and I had parted by mutual agreement. I’d landed my first TV show and was living with Lee and his family. I’m sorry to say I was not the best brother then: not very accessible and unconsciously selfish in a way teenage boys often are. My sister told me of her loneliness and her sadness, and I listened, but not enough. I was having too good a time in California. When I heard Jordan was at Hanover, I was relieved. By some miracle, here was a trusted family friend who could help Lily through things. My guilt for abandoning her in this hard time will stay with me for the rest of my life.

  I thought Jordan was a friend to her, at first. Lily sounded happier, she said she was more focused in class, and she was making new friends. Later I found out the focus was from the Adderall he sold her, and the friends were . . . not good. I don’t know what happened in the year in between, but when I got there for my senior year (part of the deal with my father was that I graduate from Hanover), she’d moved on from Adderall to coke, and had tried oxy. I could see something was up with her, but she chalked up her agitation to our dad’s pending remarriage and missing Mom. I believed her. Hell, I was not looking forward to having a twenty-year-old stepmom, either.

  All this time Lily was getting way into debt. Once Lily realized how much she owed, she came to me with the truth. She knew that our father would make her life miserable if he found out. She promised to go into drug counseling if I paid Jordan off. Of course I did—I would have done anything. That’s where the money throwing / punching comes in. It was petty, but it felt good at the time. I hate that he was able to use that against me, too.

  I graduated that year and hoped that would be the end of things. Jordan must have worked out how much this secret was worth to Lily, because he started blackmailing her that summer.

  He’d kept some incriminating texts and photos and threatened to publicize them unless she gave him $10,000 by the first day of school. Lily knew that if word got out about her addiction, Father would at least disinherit her. At worst he’d kick her out and cut her off from our paternal grandmother, who was the only other family we had left. The worst thing Jordan did was take the locket my mother gave her as collateral. He knew exactly how much that locket meant to her. I would have paid again, but I was in Croatia for the Wolf Pack sequel and not really accessible. I think losing it, in that way, is what broke her.

  When I got back from filming in August, Lily was in the hospital. She couldn’t get the funds from her trust without going through our father and couldn’t raise it on her own without arousing suspicion. It was a month before school started again, and she knew she couldn’t pay. Overwhelmed with shame, she slit her wrists.

  Once I’d gotten the story from her, I wanted to make Jordan pay, so I started asking around. I found out this was a pattern. He’d get a girl hooked on drugs, usually a freshman or sophomore. If she stopped using, he’d blackmail her: either for cash or into working for him. In one case he even tricked a shy freshman into being his drug mule. No one spoke up out of fear of expulsion or something even worse at home. The few girls with little to lose were too embarrassed about living some horrible after-school special to come forward.

  Since I couldn’t see a way to expose Jordan, I wanted to at least recover the necklace. I called the school, reported her necklace stolen, and offered a reward. Jordan wasn’t particularly careful, so his roommate saw it and told the house proctor. They searched his room and not only found the locket but enough drugs to get him expelled. I wish I had done it sooner. Lily hasn’t been the same since. She used to be this fun, outgoing girl. Always the first, always the bravest, daring. After everything with Jordan, she became really withdrawn, barely leaving the house. She’s just started getting back into life again, though she says tennis hurts too much to play now, something about the damaged nerves in her arm.

  Enclosed you’ll find a list of contacts you may reach to verify my story as well as a photocopy from my sister’s recovery journal in which she describes Jordan introducing her to drugs. I want you to know who I am, EJ. I fully trust in your discretion and await your reply.

  Sincerely,

  Will Pak

  PS: If you believe me, please open your Christmas present, if you still have it. I hope my anger that night didn’t cause you to throw it away. I can only assure you that the gift, itself, was created and offered in the purest spirit of my admiration.

  EJ

  She was sitting up in bed. She leaned back against the wall and squeezed her comforter with both hands before instinctively reaching for her phone to text Jamie. Then she remembered that it was 2:23 a.m. Instead she read the letter again, for, like, the twentieth time. Will’s apology had truly touched her. And it had convinced her. Of one thing she was certain: he was telling the truth.

  After the first reading, EJ had created a timeline of Will’s story and Jordan’s story. Now that she knew that Jordan’s story was a rip-off of a Korean drama, she could clearly see how he spun his lies out of what had occurred in real life. He was distressingly cunning and seemed to know the very details to include to make her too angry to question him. Now everything she didn’t ask came in a flood.

  Why was I so trusting of a guy who tried to pressure me into having sex without a condom? Who divulges that much personal history to someone they just met? Over brunch? Why did he leave to take three calls during one meal?

  She could see it all now: the shiftiness, the circles beneath his eyes, the morning-after Jordan who was a little seedier than her gallant rescuer from the night before.

  Why did I let him drop me off? That’s one thing I never do with hookups . . . but he was so insistent. Why was he so interested in Bennet House anyway?

  Her breath caught in realization. Jordan must have been looking for a new market. After all, Jordan was especially interested in Bennet House after she’d mentioned it was a women’s dorm. It made sense, since Will said he particularly targeted women to blackmail, trick, or use. She groaned. It pained EJ to think that she might bring danger to their doors. But since she had an idea of Jordan’s modus operandi, she’d do what she could to prevent any damage.

  The next morning, EJ awoke around ten and got the unpleasant business out of the way first. She made three increasingly awkward phone calls conveying the message that Jordan Walker should not be welcomed to Bennet House on her account and that she could not vouch for his character. Then she sent Will a text. EJ knew she needed to do some apologizing of her own. Whatever her reasons, she had harshly misjudged him. Even though she hadn’t made her claims public, EJ knew the accusation had to hurt. She also knew any amends would have to wait, after the night out he’d likely had. Jamie had messaged her after midnight saying that Lee’s cosmic bowling thing had turned into margaritas and karaoke. She knew Lee’s a cappella friends didn’t leave a karaoke bar until it closed. Will probably stayed up until three—and may have needed his own pitcher of drinks to get him through it.

  Folding the letter up for a final time, she remembered the postscript.

  “I should open his Christmas gift,” she decided. Freeing herself from her cocoon of blankets, EJ put on her slipper-socks and padded across the room, removing the gift from her closet. Somehow, EJ had never had the heart to throw it away.

  She set the gift on her bed and fished through the delicate paper until she felt the smooth wooden edge of a rectangle. It was a simple five-by-seven desk frame protecting a vibrantly rendered drawing of a young black woman. EJ looked it over appreciatively, then squinted. Something about the scene looked familiar.

  “It’s me,” she gasped, recognizing herself in her favorite boo
th at Cousin Nicky’s. She was studying, one hand supporting her chin while the other held a highlighter right above the page. A mug of coffee steamed near her stack of textbooks. Light from the window cast the whole scene in a warm glow. In the right corner, small but distinct, EJ spotted Will’s signature. “I didn’t know he could draw,” she said, surprised. “I didn’t know he—” She stopped herself, not able to accept the most logical implications of being drawn with such care. “I didn’t know he was looking.”

  EJ sent Will a follow-up email, to ask if they could meet, then sent a text to Jamie. It was a little on the early side for Saturday, but she thought she’d take a chance.

  Hey, gingerbread, can you come over when you get this?

  I need to talk.

  Almost immediately, EJ heard the following sounds: a door closing, hurried footsteps, and a knock on her door.

  “Come in!”

  “Hey, Eej! What’s up?”

  “Wow, you are bright eyed and bushy tailed. Didn’t expect that.”

  Jamie nodded a little manically. “I stopped drinking the very weak margaritas after Lee asked me to stay over and stay sober. He wanted to make sure no one drew a dick on his face.” She paused. “I think there’s a story there. Then this morning, I thought I was grabbing a can of sparkling water from his fridge and realized halfway through it was a Red Bull.” She walk-hopped to EJ and joined her on the bed. “Anyway, what’s going on?”

  EJ smiled at her friend and took a deep breath. “So basically . . .”

  She brought Jamie up to speed: what Jordan said about Will, what happened with Will before Winter Break, the letter (in broad strokes to protect Lily’s privacy), and finally the present.

  After she’d heard all, Jamie had one question: “Why are you sitting here talking to me and not smooching the face off Will?”

  “What?”