by Ari Rhoge
She adored her class. Yes, there was the occasional asshole child (“for the last time, you cannot call a five-year-old an asshole!” Jane argued) but Lizzy generally had a way with children. The truth was, she always had. When she was 13, her toddler cousin Becca latched herself onto her ankle and proclaimed kiddie love — ever since then, flocks of children seemed to follow. “Maybe it's because I like dinosaurs and smell like cookies,” Elizabeth suggested, to Jane.
The kids had finished a math lesson, and were tracing their little palms on colorful construction paper, to make paper hand-turkeys for Thanksgiving. Lizzy was in the center of the room, making a list on the chalkboard of which family members would attend dinner on that holiday.
“Who else? Who else?” Lizzy scanned the room. “Oh, come on! We've got Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, sisters and brothers. Who else comes over for Thanksgiving? Does anybody's dog sit at the table?”
Two boys at the front table began to giggle.
“Ben, I know your dog sits at the table.” Elizabeth grinned at the blond-haired boy.
“No, he doesn't!” Ben laughed. “That's so silly.”
“Miss Bennet! Miss Bennet!” A girl raised her hand, wildly.
“Yes, Olivia?”
“My aunt Shirley comes over!” Olivia Winsky informed Elizabeth, proudly. “She lives in California.”
“Oh, wow! That's a long flight.” Lizzy turned to write on the chalkboard. “Okay, so we have an aunt. Does anybody's uncle come over?”
“Yes!”
“Yeah!”
“I hate Uncle Tony.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, trying not to laugh. The comment had come from Nick Marcello, a pale-faced, sullen but polite boy with wild, dark curls. He slumped in his chair, and picked at a star sticker on the table surface. She had somewhat of a soft spot for him. Sometimes during recess she would let him stay inside with her and help clean the desks, and feed the pet goldfish by the cubbies.
“Cousins!” a girl suddenly piped up.
“Excellent, Gina — I was just thinking of cousins. You read my mind,” Lizzy said, grinning. She made a whirring sound, and pointed to her head, then back to Gina's. “We have mind-reading abilities. —— Maybe we even have superpowers.”
Gina smiled, and turned pink.
“I can fly,” Joshua Beck said, smugly.
“Beck, you can't. We put that theory to bed —— and if you try it a second time I will call your mother. Again.”
He squared his shoulders defiantly.
• • •
An hour later, Lizzy stood in an empty classroom. She had just finished flipping all the chairs and perching them back on the tables. Nick Marcello lingered at the doorway.
“I forgot my hat in my cubby,” he mumbled.
“I'll go get it for you,” Lizzy said, smiling. She found his beanie on the top shelf, and handed it back to him.
“Thanks,” he said, quickly, before scurrying away.
She watched him start to sprint down the hall, squashing the blue beanie over his mop of curls. “Hey!” Lizzy called after him. “Nick, no running. You'll fall, and it's just not going to be pretty. Trust me on this. There might be blood —— and teeth. Oh, don't look at me like that. Baby teeth, obviously — nothing permanent. The point is… just don't. Also, your shoes are untied.”
“Sorry!” Nick called.
“No problem,” Lizzy murmured. She turned around to get her bag from her desk, and lock up.
“Cute pep talk.”
She spun around. Will Darcy, of all people, was standing in her doorway. Well, that's what he had been doing. Now he was looking at a bulletin board, critically, as if it blared today's stock market closing prices as opposed to finger-paint portraits of clouds. Well, they were either clouds or people — such were the artistic talents of children.
“Um, hi. —— Any particular reason you're standing in my classroom?” Elizabeth asked, irritably.
Darcy raised his eyebrows. He was wearing a black button-down and slacks. It was four o'clock. Maybe he had lost the blazer and tie sometime during the commute. “Didn't Jane tell you?” he asked. The question was so mild but presumptuous that Lizzy had to clench her jaw to stop herself from firing something insulting (and probably irrelevant) back. Wordlessly, she procured her phone from the front pocket of her purse, and flipped it open.
Jane had sent her a text message three hours earlier:
Oh btw, Darcy is picking you up. Charlie and I will meet you at the restaurant.
“Of course.” Lizzy took in a deep breath, held it, and let it out.
They were outside, walking to the car, when Darcy found it appropriate to speak to her for a second time. Lizzy wondered what had possibly possessed him.
“Listen, it's clear to me that you don't like me very much.”
She laughed — only once and very loudly — before sobering up. “I don't follow you, Darcy.”
“All I'm saying is that you love Jane and I love Charlie — and if they need buffers for a date, we just have to suck it up and deal.” Darcy completed his declaration with corresponding, emphatic hand gestures. “For their happiness.” Lizzy raised an eyebrow.
“Well, then. I'm sorry I'm so unlikable and difficult to be around,” Elizabeth said, cheerfully. Darcy stopped walking, and Lizzy's face nearly collided with his shoulder. “Oof! Give a girl some warning!”
“Maybe you shouldn't walk so close to me, then!”
“I'm sorry — I was just admiring your swagger.”
Darcy paused, then opened and closed his mouth. “You're joking again—”
“I'm joking again,” Elizabeth said, nodding in confirmation. She giggled, and Darcy seemed to relax. “I'm sorry, it's just — you're so uptight, Will Darcy. It will forever entertain me.”
“Thank you,” he said, stiffly. “And just for the record, I don't not like you.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, gasping. “Oh! Was that a compliment?”
“No,” Darcy bit out. He continued walking in long-legged strides, and Lizzy practically skipped to keep up with him, relishing in the opportunity to be the annoying bee buzzing in his ear.
“But it was a double negative, Darce — I think that's as close as I'm going to get. Does this mean you like me?”
“Actually, I'm pretty indifferent about you, Elizabeth,” said Will, curtly. They were at his car now. Three weeks and a fistful of money had gifted it a pretty solid repair job. Lizzy checked her reflection out in the shiny surface of the car door, and moved a flyaway hair behind her ear.
Darcy met her eye across the hood of the car.
“Well, I'll be.” Lizzy smoothed her skirt and shook her head. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
He said nothing, and opened the door.
• • •
Will hated himself a little for it, but he couldn't stop staring at Elizabeth Bennet during dinner. Much like before, actually — but this time he did it with more curiosity than pure distaste. Every now and then, he would catch himself glancing at her, and would quickly fix his stare on something safe, like the breadbasket or the tablecloth design. It did not help much. Charlie and Jane were babbling about a Darren Aronofsky film he had already seen, and Lizzy was listening politely, commenting every so often.
She looked different. Her hair was still pulled back, but dark tendrils had escaped her ponytail and were framing her face loosely. She was wearing makeup — nothing much, probably a little lipstick and mascara. And she was no longer dwarfed in a massive cardigan and jeans. Lizzy wore a snug V-neck sweater and a gray pencil skirt — it made Darcy notice some things he would have cared not to.
Yeah, fine — she's a pretty girl. There are many just like her — probably less aggravating and foul-mouthed, too.
“What do you think, Will?”
Darcy blanched, and looked up from his menu. Charlie was looking at him expectantly, but his smile faltered at his best friend's expression. “You still with us?”
&nb
sp; “Not really,” he muttered.
Jane gave a lopsided smile. “Oh, leave him alone. We were just talking about suits — and you seem to have the most detailed knowledge on the subject, Will, given how often you wear them. Not that it's unexpected — I mean, you do work at a firm.”
“Darcy sleeps in them,” Charlie said, chuckling, then taking a sip from his beer bottle.
“Nonsense, Charlie — they would only wrinkle.”
“Hear, hear,” Lizzy thundered.
Darcy gave a tight-lipped smile, shook his head, and glanced back down to his menu.
• • •
After dinner, Charlie and Jane had selected some hokey Reese Witherspoon romcom at a theatre 15 minutes away — but Elizabeth found she couldn't really complain. Every girl had a craving for a lighthearted chick flick once in a while. Or once every week, to be more accurate. But to Lizzy's surprise Will Darcy didn't say anything insulting about the choice. He simply braved it quietly. He had been silent since dinner ended.
Previews were rolling when Lizzy decided to give Charlie and Jane some quality time. “I'm getting popcorn. Anybody else want some concession-stand goodness, while I'm up?”
“Junior Mints, please and thank you. And a Coke.”
“You got it. —— Darcy, care to help?” Elizabeth asked.
“Sure.”
He followed her down the stairs and out of the theatre.
“Why do you always ask me for help?” Darcy asked her, once they were in line.
Lizzy turned on her heels to face him. She smiled cheerfully. “I'm not sure what you mean.”
“The candles, for one — during the power outage,” he reminded her.
“Oh, you mean when you copped a feelski?” Elizabeth rather enjoyed watching Will Darcy's face flush. He reminded her of an awkward little boy — and for a moment she lightened up on him. “It's okay, I didn't tell anybody that you unintentionally tried to go to second base with me.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Oh, thanks. I appreciate it.”
Lizzy chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. “I don't know. The first time, I needed somebody to illuminate the hall for me.” She gave a comical flourish of her hand, and shrugged. “And this time, I wanted to give Jane and Charlie some privacy. Because, let's face it, they're a little too polite to suck face in our presence.”
“I doubt that's what they're doing. They've only been dating for—”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, challengingly.
Darcy frowned. “You think they're getting serious,” he said, in monotone.
“Oh, I believe so.”
He was quiet awhile.
They moved up in line until they stood before the cashier. Darcy insisted he would pay. After some half-hearted arguing, Lizzy let him. She leaned against the counter, and looked at her shoes before glancing up at Darcy. He stood with impeccable posture, waiting for the theatre attendant to fill up a carton of popcorn. She knew he was lost in thought, probably mulling over Charlie's relationship. Maybe he feared losing a friend — she knew the feeling quite well.
Elizabeth's eyes traced over his profile — the dark disheveled hair, the furrowed brow, the straight nose, and the strong, clenched jaw. He was so tense all the time. I wonder what he's like after a few shots of tequila.
“Can you hold this?” Darcy asked, interrupting her reverie. He handed her a pack of Twizzlers and some loose change.
“Yup,” Lizzy chirped. “Can do.”
They walked back down the corridor to theatre #14, and Lizzy accidentally dropped the change he handed her. “Aw, shit.”
“I'll get it.”
“No, I got it.”
Elizabeth lowered herself delicately, all the while tugging her skirt down. Darcy pressed his lips together — she knew in an instant he was trying not to laugh.
“Shut up. Have you ever tried to bend over in a skirt? I'm trying to be decent so you don't go running off to tell Charlie of my whorish ways. And, knowing how much you approve of me, you'd probably tell him that I jumped on top of you, too. Oh, Charlie, Elizabeth and her sister are so frisky and indecent!”
“Okay, Queen of Assumptions. I wouldn't think that about you.”
“Well, thanks. But this thing does ride up, so… yeah.” Lizzy collected the quarters, and stood back up — Darcy outstretched his hand so she could drop them into his palm.
“Thank you,” Darcy said, smirking.
“You're welcome.”
“By the way,” he said, holding the door open for her. “It's weird, you know. You being a kindergarten teacher. You were so good with that kid, the one who raced out of your classroom.”
“Good with that kid? —— Oh, as opposed to eating his flesh, you mean.”
“You know what I mean.” Darcy rolled his eyes, exasperated.
“Thanks, I guess,” Lizzy said. A Twizzler was sticking out of her mouth now, and she removed it to talk. “Miss Bennet is my alter ego. My Peter Parker, if you will.”
“And now you're Spiderman?”
“Yep. Judge me.”
“You don't have to tell me twice,” Darcy muttered, walking back inside the theatre. She had to catch the door after him, and hold it open with her elbow, struggling.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, and shot daggers at his back. “Douchenozzle.”
6
—
Whatever Happened to Independence?
Jane and Charlie grew inevitably closer as a month of dating turned into two. After the movie theatre, The Golden Couple needed Darcy and Elizabeth only one last time before they removed the metaphorical training wheels and gave their relationship a proper chance. Lizzy couldn't say she missed playing third (and occasionally fourth) wheel with Will Darcy. During the last date, he had barely spoken three syllables to her. Then they simply stopped seeing one another. Two months, three national holidays and one blizzard had passed without Elizabeth seeing his face. She didn't miss it, handsome though it was — when he wasn't looking perpetually constipated.
Winter made Lizzy a bit of a loner by habit, and that January marked the first time in years that her two best friends had coupled off and left her single. Charlotte, to her annoyance but eventual acceptance, had only grown closer to Bill Collins in spite of his perverse ways. He was always hanging around the apartment now, usually with his shiny shoes propped up on the coffee table they ate at.
Elizabeth wondered if she should be more accepting of him. Yes, Bill was short and scrawny, and had an odd flesh-colored goatee going on near his chin that skeeved her out. His stare was unsettling, and alluded to X-ray vision. He also still openly flirted with other women. But, if nothing, he was polite, sweet and doting to Charlotte. Sometimes Lizzy felt bad for judging him so harshly. But these feelings usually lasted for short periods before they passed. Much like indigestion.
She also hated cleaning up after him. Collins had a nasty habit of leaving socks and boxer shorts all over the apartment, which triggered Lizzy's sensitive gag reflex, and implored her to wipe down furniture with Pledge and a rag for at least 20 minutes at a time.
“For once, I wish your boyfriend would pick up after himself,” Elizabeth told Charlotte one weekend. “I'm not the fucking maid around here, you know.”
Charlotte smiled apologetically over a cup of coffee, and looked back down at her cell phone.
“Also, can you just have sex in your bedroom? Is that so hard? I have books on this table. Sacred, sacred books, Charlotte. And now I have to burn it all. And this figurine from my great uncle Joseph. Have to burn that, too. Because you guys got frisky here. Now I have to burn everything. I have to burn books! Are you happy with yourself?”
She was still texting, and looked up half a minute later. “What? I'm sorry. I'm texting Bill back about Saturday plans. What were you saying?”
“Don't worry about it,” Lizzy mumbled.
Jane she wasn't so irritated with. How could she be? Her sister's happiness was vital to her. But she rarely saw her now. When she
wasn't at the clinic, Jane was with Charlie. He was at her place so often that he was practically living there. She really liked Charlie, too. He was goofy and adorable, and absolutely crazy about her sister. They were the tolerable Ken and Barbie. She just missed Jane.
Then her sister called her one Friday night, the third week in January. “Mom and Dad are coming over for dinner tomorrow night. They want to meet Charlie, and I'm having a panic attack — I need you there to hold my hair back and steer me someplace safe so I don't vomit in the lasagna.”
Lizzy set down the spoon she was holding, and pushed away her dinner plate. So much for answering the phone mid-bite.
“I hope you weren't eating.”
“I wasn't,” she lied, smiling. “Just making lesson plans. I'll be there, sweetie. Anything you need me to bring?”
“Your angelic self, obviously! —— And red wine.”
“Can do both.”
• • •
The next night, Lizzy drove the 20 minutes to Meryton Borough, let herself into Jane's apartment, and was welcomed there by the sight of Charlie Bingley cooking alongside his girlfriend. They wore plaid aprons, matching albeit in different colors. His cheeks were flushed from the steam of the boiling pot he was leaning over, red hair sticking up in impossible directions. Jane squeaked when she saw Lizzy, and hugged her tightly.
“I'm going to throw up,” she told Elizabeth, a second later.
Lizzy nodded understandingly, and brushed Jane's blond hair over her ear. “Have you warned Charlie about the family?”
“She has,” interjected Charlie. “And I've reminded her that my sister and I lived through an ignorant father, two stepmothers, and a Swedish nanny we grew very fond of — and only after five years discovered was actually a man. —— Dysfunction runs in multiple families.”
“See, that's good!” Lizzy beamed. “Yes, Mom is a little off her rocker, and Dad doesn't exactly make it better. It's going to be okay. And you know why? Because they didn't take Lydia or Mary with them.”
