The Bennet Women

by Eden Appiah-Kubi

  “Go kiss Will’s face off,” Jamie repeated emphatically, waving away EJ’s shocked expression. “Let me give you my perspective. First, on Halloween Lee gives me the whole of Will’s tragic backstory with Carrie, so I actually understand why he’s being such an asshole.”

  “That’s why you stopped hating him!” EJ interjected. It usually took Jamie a good three months to stop holding a grudge.

  “Exactly, now we’re all pals. Anyway, right after Thanksgiving, I run into Will at the campus center, and he asks me about some of your favorite things. He wants my opinion on what he’s giving you for Christmas. I ask him why, and I can barely hear his response because I’m watching him light up while he talks about you. ‘Finally!’ I think. ‘There’s a guy on this campus smart enough to truly appreciate my Ella.’

  “Once he’s finished talking about how perceptive you are, and intelligent, et cetera, I tell him how impossible you are to shop for and about your preference for handmade things. He then digs out his sketchbook and shows me this.” She taps the framed drawing.

  “He’s all, ‘I was inspired by this show at the Met . . . I think this is my best one, the colors . . .’ All I’m thinking is ‘He loves my Ella!’ I tell him it’s perfect. From then, I’ve been waiting to hear about this super-romantic gift and how you guys are going to get married and have Blasian babies. The next thing I know, you aren’t speaking to him, you’re lying to me, and God knows why.”

  Jamie grabbed EJ’s hands. “Do you understand how I have been dying for the last couple of months? I have to be honest, I’m not so interested in our journey to this moment right now. You know he’s a good person now, who happens to be crazy about you. Go kiss him, bubbeleh!”

  EJ looked at her friend skeptically. “I am sure of the former and know nothing of the latter,” she corrected. “The only thing that’s clear is that Will is talented. Artists don’t need to be enamored of a person to draw them well.” She dropped Jamie’s hands. “Also, ‘bubbeleh’? Really? Schnitzel, we’re the same age!”

  Jamie gave her friend a long look, then shifted her gaze to the drawing. “Ella, this was not done by a disinterested person. It’s a declaration, and if it’s too subtle for you, don’t be surprised if you get something more direct soon.”

  EJ pursed her lips. “Well, first he’d have to text me back. I sent him two texts and an email, which I think is the absolute limit before—” Both women started as EJ’s phone began vibrating aggressively and playing “9 to 5.”

  “Answer it already,” Jamie said, smiling. “You know who it is.”

  EJ rolled her eyes but picked up the phone. “Hello? Oh, hi, Will.” She shooed a smirking Jamie out of the room.

  “Hey, yeah. I’m on Lee’s phone, just got your email. We’ve been drying out mine all morning. I crashed at Lee’s place after karaoke. Stu and his other aca-friends stayed up watching reruns of The Office, and they thought it would be a great prank to put his phone in Jell-O.” There was a telling silence. “Our phones look a lot alike.”

  EJ shook her head. “That sucks. That show has a lot to answer for.”

  “It made things awkward over breakfast, but the phone turned on briefly about an hour ago, which means it’s not completely dead. My people do good work.”

  “Which side: Korean or Chinese?” EJ asked.

  “It’s a Samsung, but most phones are made in China, so . . . both?”

  She giggled, then spoke. “I read your letter, several times.”

  “And?” he pressed.

  “I believe you, Will. I do and I’m sorry.” She breathed a sigh. “If you have time, I feel like we should talk in person.”

  There was a long pause. EJ hoped it wasn’t too late to make things right.

  “I’d like that. When are you free?”

  “I don’t have much going on today. Wanna come by Bennet House a little later, like three?”

  “Would you mind coming over to my place? I know there’s little chance anyone will make a fuss . . . but I could really use a quiet night at home after the last one.”

  “Can do—and Will, I loved my gift. Thank you.” She disconnected the call and texted Jamie.

  J, I’ve got a couple of hours to prepare some sort of conciliatory gesture.

  Let’s go shopping.

  That afternoon EJ turned up at Will’s place bearing her own gift, less elegantly wrapped in aluminum foil. Shifting her parcel to one arm, she pressed his buzzer. The lock released, and she hurried up the short set of stairs.

  “Hey,” Will said. He looked at her full arms and held the door wide. “Is this for me?”

  “Yup,” she said, following him into the apartment. “It’s an apology pie. Apple seems like the sincerest fruit.”

  Will gave a light chuckle and walked the dessert over to his kitchen counter. “You baked me a pie?”

  “It’s more of a collaboration between me and frozen-food pâtissière Mrs. Smith. But I got the fanciest one. It came in a black box with a cursive font. All the hallmarks of quality,” she added with bright strain.

  Will gave a half smile that was neither reassuring nor dismissive. “Well, I’m a sucker for apple pie, especially with—”

  “Whipped cream! I know! I’ve done a little research.” She produced a canister from her duffel bag. Handing it over, EJ turned serious. “Will, I know I apologized in my email, and my texts, but I have to say it again: I have been a complete asshole. I’m so sorry for misjudging you and for being so cold. Hell, I should have at least listened to your side, but—”

  EJ thought better of explaining further; there was a thin line between offering reasons and rationalizing her actions. “I was wrong, Will, and I’d like to start over.”

  The actor was silent, absently twisting a long corner of the foil as he considered his response. EJ took long, deep breaths, awaiting Will’s verdict. She glanced around at the now-blank walls. Where’d the masks go?

  “You any good at chess?” he asked, finally looking at her.

  She tilted her head slightly. “I’m not terrible, but I’m not great.”

  “Good. I’ll heat up this pie, and we can each have a slice while I kick your ass.”

  EJ struggled to maintain her solemnity but couldn’t let this pass. “I’m apologizing, Will, but I’m not sorry enough to let you beat me.”

  “I would expect nothing but your best efforts. But we haven’t played anything against each other since November. Since you’re apologizing, I should get a decent shot at a win.” He smiled, genuinely, and EJ had never been happier at the prospect of losing.

  Will

  It was Super Bowl Sunday, and Will was waiting for his friends to come over for his “What’s a Super Bowl?” party. Johnny Storm’s team had crashed out in the playoffs, but Carrie Dean had been asked to do the national anthem. Will thought this was the perfect time to pretend that football didn’t exist. It wasn’t hard at Longbourn since they seemed to have champions in only women’s soccer and Quidditch, but even the most football-averse people seemed to feel obligated to watch the broadcast so they could talk about the commercials. Will was glad to have some people over to eat junk food and watch movies. He was really happy that he could now include EJ on that short list of friends.

  It had started with the day she brought over the pie and he demolished her at chess. They’d hung out in his living room and gone through his traveling record collection.

  “Some classical and a whole lot of jazz with an emphasis on Thelonious Monk,” EJ observed. “In fact, the only popular music you have is from Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, and Ben Folds. Where’s your practice keyboard?”

  “Well deduced, Holmes,” Will replied. “It’s in my room. I practice every morning after working out but before my vocal exercises. You play, too, right? I noticed your keyboard . . . the last time I was in your single,” he trailed off awkwardly, trying not to resurrect the recently buried past.

  EJ responded cheerfully. “You’re right. My keyboard is the main reas
on I brought my car to campus. Had to make sure she traveled comfortably.” They traded stories about the tribulations of travel with a keyboard until Will suggested playing duets.

  Since then, EJ rejoined their regular game nights and met Will for coffee in the campus center after their dance classes. She got him into her movie / TV adaptation book club; he took her on a day trip to the Peabody Museum. They were very different but liked many of the same things—or they liked different things for the same reasons. And she was so kind. She asked him about Lily in the gentlest way possible and listened patiently when he revealed his fears for his sister.

  “Life is long,” she said. “You’re supporting her now, just keep it up.” In the back of his mind (heart?), Will could feel his crush starting to bubble up again.

  The door buzzed. EJ arrived about an hour before game time with a small pan of seven-layer dip and a bag of tortilla chips. “I think this is the best part of a Super Bowl Sunday,” she said, proffering the dish.

  “Thanks, Sara Lee,” Will said, bringing the dip into the small kitchen. “You know, since you seem to have a habit of bringing food every time you come over, you’ve got an open invitation.”

  She laughed and hung her coat on the back of a chair near the breakfast bar. “When are Jamie and Lee getting here?” she asked.

  “I’m surprised they’re not here already,” Will said as he poured tortilla chips into a bowl. Just then both their phones chirped, as if in response. There was a text from Lee.

  Disaster! Major roof leaks. Calling maintenance.

  “Jesus Christ!” EJ exclaimed. She must have been reading the same text.

  Need help? Will wrote back.

  Jamie’s here with all the towels.

  Watch the movie

  We’ll come after maintenance man gets here

  Will read the messages aloud. “Well, that’ll be half past never,” he commented. “Lee’s super is useless.”

  “Is anyone else coming over?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t invite anyone else. I was keeping this pity party pretty small, a pity gathering, really.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hands in a slightly helpless gesture. Will didn’t know if he could keep a lid on his feelings if they were alone: the good ones or the sad ones. He didn’t know if their new friendship could survive if he kissed her tonight. “You don’t have to stay, Eej. I’ll be okay on my own.”

  EJ ran a hand over her braided extensions, tucked up in their usual bun. She always played with her hair when she was nervous. Then she crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug.

  “I hope this is okay. I’m a hugger, and you just looked so blue.” She released him and gave a sympathetic smile. “You shouldn’t have to avoid your ex alone,” she said. “Even if she’s just on television. I never thought about how much that must suck.”

  She grabbed the dip and chips from the counter and brought them over to the coffee table.

  “At least at Longbourn, if your romantic past walks into the library, you can pretend to drop a pencil and crawl under a table until they go away,” she said with curious specificity. “You don’t have to see their stupid faces on television.”

  “Or on magazines, or on pop-up ads on my phone,” Will added. “It’s pretty unpleasant, but that’s all part of the business. But we should be able to avoid the whole thing with this,” he said, holding up a DVD. “Please don’t laugh at my choice.”

  “Of course not,” EJ replied brightly.

  Will inserted the DVD and returned to the couch. “I borrowed it from the school’s video library. It was the only way not to get one of those digitally remastered versions that makes everyone look like puppets.”

  He heard EJ audibly breathe a sigh of relief as a panoramic view of Austrian mountains appeared on the screen.

  “The Sound of Music?” she cried. “Thank God. I thought you were going to make me watch a stupid boy movie like The Boondock Saints or The Hangover.” She settled back on the couch. “Are you okay if I sing along?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s required,” Will said, smiling.

  Later, as the off-screen chorus vocally climbed into the stratosphere for “Climb Ev’ry Mountain,” Will discreetly dabbed at his right eye. EJ noticed, of course, but she just squeezed his arm and gave him a small smile.

  “A lot of people think this movie is a cheese sandwich, but the ending gets me every time.” Will turned to her. “I mean, they’ve just escaped from the Nazis, they have nothing but the coats on their backs, and they’re literally climbing this mountain to safety, all so that Hitler doesn’t make them his poster family.”

  “I’ve never thought of it that way,” she said, shifting toward him.

  Will shrugged. “To be honest, I had help. My mom loved this movie. She said the ending reminded her of my Lao Lao—my grandmother. She got to Hong Kong right before the border closed during the Chinese Civil War. She and my great-grandmother had traveled to visit a cousin. Lao Lao was just a little girl. When they arrived, my great-grandmother received a telegram. It began ‘Don’t try to come home.’”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my God!”

  Will continued. “The family’s factory was seized, and so was their beautiful house in Shenzhen. Mom said Great-Grandmother fainted in the station. In that moment all they had in the world was in their suitcases. We never learned exactly what happened to my great-grandfather, but he would have been considered a landlord and so probably executed.”

  “Holy shit!” EJ gasped. “I’m so sorry.” She placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Thanks.” Will turned to face her fully, and she shifted to do the same. He tried not to notice their knees touching. “There are lots of stories like ours from that time. Hardly any got officially recorded. The best we can hope for is that they get passed down.”

  “That’s so true.” EJ dropped her hand back onto her lap. He was sorry to lose its warmth. “On the flip side,” she continued, “there are good stories that get forgotten entirely. Like my great-great-aunt Marjorie was a barnstorming pilot, did air shows like Bessie Coleman, but we only have one poster with her name at third billing as any proof. At least I hope Aunt Karen still has it.”

  They were interrupted by a loud pop as the TV switched over to the nightly news. Will winced as Carrie’s face flashed across the screen and reached for the remote.

  “Wait,” EJ said. “Carrie’s anthem wouldn’t be a top news story if it had gone well. Turn it up.”

  As Will and EJ saw, hours after most of the US, Carrie Dean’s Super Bowl performance had been a remarkable disaster. Not entirely sure of her singing, the star had recorded a lip-sync track. Unfortunately, an ill-timed sneezing fit put her out of sync with her own voice. The track was quickly cut, and she attempted to sing live but apparently forgot the words.

  “Did she just sing the dawn’s gleaming twilight?” EJ crowed at the screen. “There’s a teleprompter! Find it, woman!”

  Will gaped at the screen during the entirety of the brief performance, then howled with laughter. “That was terrible!” He grinned. “It was one of the worst performances of the national anthem I’ve ever seen—”

  “I think that was grounds for treason,” EJ added.

  The landline rang, surprising them both.

  “You have a landline, Gramps?” she asked laughingly.

  “The lady I’m subletting from does,” Will explained, looking for the phone. “But I’ve only given the number to my sister and my agent.” He answered warily. “Hello?”

  “Will! Finally! I need you in New York, yesterday.” It was Katerina, and she was all business. “You’re booked on Kelly Ripa and Whoever tomorrow, and Wendy Williams Thursday—she’s not your favorite, but she hates Carrie. Also, Friday, I’m trying one of those midday shows on CNN to put your face in airports.”

  “What?”

  “Your ‘ex’ angle is super juicy, perfect for the morning shows. They like the tabloidy stuff. Which reminds me:
I can get you on GMA Tuesday with Michael Strahan and Sara. She hates Carrie, so she’ll love you. You can promote the GQ thing.”

  After his minor success on SNL, Will had filmed a video on fashion for the everyday guy for the GQ Canada website / YouTube channel. He was a slightly bigger star there.

  “We’ve only filmed the one.”

  “And it’s going live tomorrow—not just in Canada anymore but on the US site, too. They want some more in the bank, by the way, so that’s your Wednesday, okay, darling?”

  He was still confused. “Because of Carrie? But—”

  “Have you gotten any of my texts?” Katerina interrupted.

  “No, sorry, my phone’s been temperamental since—”

  “Never mind. Just get down here. Don’t even pack. I spoke with Lily, and she said she’d pick out some things from your closet at the Pemberley house. You’re booked on a flight that leaves at midnight. Get yourself to Logan now and call me when you get to New York.” She hung up.

  Blinking, Will turned to EJ. “That was my agent. She’s got some crazy stuff lined up for me in New York. I’ve got to go to the airport, like now.”

  “Wow, okay. Well, let me get out of your hair,” EJ said, getting up quickly.

  They cleared the food away and grabbed his coat. “I can at least drive you back to Bennet,” he offered. “It’s on the way out of town.”

  They rode in pleasant silence to EJ’s dorm. Will’s mind was churning. Could this be the start of something big? he wondered.

  It would be some kind of karmic justice if Will rose from the ashes of Carrie’s career. Now that he thought he could get his old life back, he wanted it. Will looked over at EJ, who found a way to look adorable even in a giant winter coat with that unwieldy scarf.

  Well, I don’t want everything back.

  He didn’t want Carrie anymore. EJ had cured him of that. But he did want to see how far he could take his screen career. Now that people were noticing him, he wanted to see exactly how talented he was. What he could really bring to the screen. He wanted to try.