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Posted on Thursday, 25 July 2002
Daylight, I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin *
Brandon walks into the house. It's quiet and feels eerily empty. For a brief moment, he wonders if his father is home. In the silence of the house, surrounded by empty beer cans and the pungent smell of cigarettes that hangs in the air, Brandon closes his eyes and prays he's alone, that maybe his father made a U-turn back to the hotel to watch the mystery lady some more. Of course, it creeps him out that his dad was watching strange women in their hotel rooms, and as much as he doesn't want his father doing this, Brandon feels the sick hope that his father isn't home yet.
"Dad?" he asks, as he almost trips over the coffee table that had once sat in the center of their living room. It now sits sadly sprawled out and broken across the floor in front of the door. He has to remind himself to clean up the mess sometime soon, but he knows his father doesn't care. He never cared before, why would he start now?
Brandon is on edge this morning, though. He has a sick feeling that his dad is on another one of his discipline kicks again. He cringes at the thought of the last one, when he
"What?" Brandon hears his father's gruff voice from the kitchen. Brandon has to shove past Lucy Steel, who is passed out in front of the kitchen door.
"Dad," Brandon repeats as he finally gets the door open enough to squeeze in. His dad is sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee. The morning paper is in front of him, but he isn't looking at it. He's gazing into space, a dazed expression on his face. It's almost as if he is in love. But Brandon knows his dad better than this. Love was not in his chemistry. Genetics hadn't willed the right to love to this cold, unfeeling man. The only thing Brandon has seen his father love more than money is himself. Himself, himself, himself.
"What?" Will asks once again. His voice sounds somewhat disconnected from the world, unnaturally soft and thin like he is physically answering his son, but mentally he's not. The dazed expression disappears from his face, though, and he finally turns his attention on his son.
"Who was that woman at the hotel?" Brandon asks.
Will shifts uncomfortably on his stool. He can't decide whether or not to tell his son the truth. Without much thought, the truth slithers off his tongue "She's Jane Bennet's sister," he says, naming Brandon's European History teacher. Miss Bennet had been one of Brandon's favorite teachers right away when he moved to Wisconsin. He learned more from her in a week than he learned at his old school in a semester.
"I guess she's here for the wedding," Brandon says.
Will sighs. "That's probably one of the reasons she's here."
Brandon sniffs, "What? And the other is to see you?"
Will scratches the back of his head. A pained expression settles on his face. "We dated for three years," Will finally says.
"Oh," Brandon nods his head as if he understands his father perfectly. "And she still wants you bad?"
"Wants me bad," Will repeats. The dazed expression returns to his face, but he shakes himself, rises from his stool and starts walking for the door. "Clean up this mess, would you? And get that girl away from the door," Will says, as he squeezes out the door and makes his way to his room. He hopes Elizabeth wants him, but it was so difficult to know when it came to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth drives the blue Toyota rental car up the driveway of an old house. White paint is pealing off the siding, displaying rotting wood. Trim droops at the edges and a few roof shingles lay in the brown, overgrown lawn, which is mostly clovers and quack grass. As she steps out of her car, she heaves a heavy sigh. Home sweet home.
"Liz!" Jane cries. The screen door squeals open and Jane hurries out and wraps her sister in a big hug. "I'm so glad you came. I was starting to get worried you chickened out."
Elizabeth shook her head. "Well," Elizabeth says, as Jane leads her in through the front door. "I guess we have a lot of work ahead of us."
Jane agrees. "We have a lot to sort through."
Elizabeth studies the ragged carpet and old, moth-eaten sofa and chair seated around the scratched coffee table. What a sty. She remembers the disrepair of the house when she was a girl, but now--now it was decrepit.
"I know what you're going to say," Jane says as she carefully seats herself on the sofa. She chews her lip as she looks around the house, as if for the first time, seeing what Elizabeth sees. "I haven't done real well with the up keep. It's just, well, things have been so busy with going to college then getting a job and working part-time and taking care of Mary... then Charles..." her voice trails off.
"Don't worry about it, Jane," Elizabeth says, giving her sister a comforting smile. "We'll clean it up. Together. How is Mary, by the way? Is she here?"
Jane plays with the edge of her T-shirt. "No," she says. "She's at physical Therapy right now. You'll get to see her soon, though, Liz."
For the first time since she got back to Davenshire, Elizabeth doesn't cringe at the use of her old nickname. In fact, she doesn't even notice it until later, after she has climbed into a relaxing bubble bath back in her hotel room at the Comfort Suit. That's when she will realize Jane used it all day. For now, however, Elizabeth is oblivious.
"I'm so glad you could come a week early," Jane says, as they begin to sort through a closet full of shoeboxes and photo albums. "I don't think I could go through all this on my own. It stirs up so many memories of mom and dad." Jane shivers a little.
"And other people," Elizabeth says. She opens a photo album filled with Homecoming pictures of Jane and Charles posing under the tree that used to stand in the back yard. It was struck down by heavy winds four years after Elizabeth left, though. As Elizabeth flips to the end of the photo album, she finds one picture of her, wrapped in Wills strong arms, wearing a pair of tight, stonewashed jeans. Her hair brown curls are unkempt and blowing in the autumn wind. Will is dressed in a black tux with stripes down the legs, a black cummerbund and a neatly tied bow tie. She can remember that day so clearly, as if it were yesterday.
All day long, Jane had been rushing around, doing her make-up and hair, putting on the pink pouf dress that made her look like a giant stick of cotton candy. Elizabeth had just been walking around, trying to help when she was needed, but mostly feeling sorry for herself. Will had tried asking her to Homecoming several times, but Elizabeth had always distracted him or somehow managed to changed the subject at a crucial point, just before the question slipped past his lips.
That day, however, Elizabeth was kicking herself for not letting him get the question out. She could think of a million things she would rather do, but at that moment the only thing she wanted was to be in the middle of the dance floor, her arms around Will's neck, as some slow song softly lulled them into a trance.
At seven o' clock exactly, Charles drove up and stepped out of his father's car. He whistled as he walked up the driveway and up to the front door. He smiled tenderly at the pink rose corsage he bought for Jane. Pink roses were Jane's favorite. For years after Charles left, Jane couldn't look at a pink rose with out tears tingling at the corner of her eyes.
For a half-an-hour, Jane and Charles posed in as many cute ways as they could think of. Hugging, kissing, kneeling, sitting. Everything. Elizabeth only watched with sadness in her heart. Why hadn't she let Will ask? It wasn't like he was the only boy to ask her. Ben Collins asked her to. He was popular and handsome. Elizabeth convinced herself that the only reason she turned him down was her best friend, Charlotte Lucas, had had a crush on him since elementary school.
Finally, when Elizabeth decided she couldn't take it anymore, she turned to walk into the house, but instead hit something hard and solid. She looked up to see Will smiling down at her.
"Will!" Elizabeth said. She tried to do the impossible and hide her relief. "Shouldn't you be with your homecoming date?" For weeks it had been rumored that Will was going to take Caroline Bingley, who was now ignoring Elizabeth like the plague.
A shrewd smile covered Will's face. "Who says I'm not?" he asked.
"I think Jane already has a date," Elizabeth said, carefully motioning to the happy couple. Jane was perched on Charles's knee, smiling beatifically.
Will shifted uncomfortably. Although he was probably the only person in the history of the world to be able to say it, Will couldn't stand Jane. There was just something about her that rubbed him the wrong way. Of course, he wouldn't taken the time to get to know her until years later. "I actually meant... you," Will said, smilingly.
"Me," Elizabeth said. "I don't even have a dress."
"Well, at least let me spend the evening with you," he said, hoping he didn't sound like he was begging.
Elizabeth smiled, thrilled that she no longer had to spend the evening alone. "I suppose so. I have nothing better to do," Elizabeth said sweetly.
After that, Elizabeth and Will had one picture of them taken under the tree. That was all, because, Elizabeth said, it wasn't going to be a very memorable evening. Like usual, though, Will proved her wrong. Nineteen years later, she still remembered it so clearly. Closing her eyes, she can still feel his body against hers as they posed for their one picture. She can still feel the heat of her blush under his gaze. She can still smell his cologne. She can still taste his lips when he bent his head down and gave her a quick kiss before he left. A kiss, she still remembers, that sent her to the moon.
After working all morning, Jane and Elizabeth finally take break to eat lunch. They sit down at the old table that Elizabeth can remember sitting around with her family whole family as a little girl. She can almost see all her sisters and her parents sitting around her, talking, laughing, chewing their burnt food (Elizabeth's mother had been a terrible cook).
The summer after Elizabeth's Senior year of high school, her parents died in a car accident that paralyzed one sister, Mary, and left Elizabeth and her four sisters alone. After Elizabeth went off to college, the family crumbled even more. Her sister Lydia dropped out of high school and ran away. No one had seen her since. Katie is a year older than Elizabeth. She had joined the army and fled Wisconsin only to return when it was absolutely necessary. Mary lives with Jane in their small, dingy childhood home.
"Is Katie coming for the wedding?" Elizabeth asks, as she twirlers spaghetti noodles around her fork.
Jane grins like a person carrying a big, important secret, and leans across the table and clutches Elizabeth's hand. "Yes. Isn't that great?"
"It is," Elizabeth says. "Is she still in the army?"
Jane wipes her mouth with a paper napkin, then places it neatly in her lap. "No," she says. "She's actually married with two boys, living in Minnesota now."
"Well, that's great," Elizabeth says. "I can't wait to see her. It's been years."
Jane nods, then turns back to her food.
"Jane, I'm sorry," Elizabeth says.
Jane looks up at her sister, feigning confusion. "For what?" she asks, pretending to be dumb.
Elizabeth plays with the corner of her napkin. "For leaving you here. Alone. It was wrong of me."
Jane gives Elizabeth a small smile. "It's okay, Liz," she says. "You did what you thought you had to do, and I made the best of it."
"Jane--"
Jane holds up a finger to silence Elizabeth. "Say no more. I'm happy, Liz. I moved on after you left. I still hoped Charles would come back, but I stopped waiting. I went to college. I started teaching at the high school, and I was actually happy. And then Charles... well, he came back, and we fell in love all over again. I can't hold your leaving against you, Liz, because I think I know why you did it."
Elizabeth looks at her food in silence, then looks back at her sister. "Thank you, Jane. I wish I was more like you."
Jane laughed a little and leaned across the table to squeeze Elizabeth's hand again. "I'm so glad you're back, Liz," she whispers.
*Memory from Cats