by Bernie Su
“Thank you for stopping by,” Jane was saying, as she walked Bing to the door.
“Thank you for seeing me,” he replied. From our perch at the top of the stairs, we could see Bing reach out to touch Jane’s shoulder, before stopping himself. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon.”
“I would like that,” Jane replied. And then he was gone.
“You can come out now,” Jane called up the stairs.
“We just, um—” I said, as I noticed Lydia had abandoned me to face Jane alone. “Or I mean, I just wanted to make sure everything went well.”
“It did,” Jane assured me.
“Good. Tell me everything,” I said, no longer able to keep my curiosity at bay. Thankfully, Jane was more than willing to share.
Jane said he didn’t beg for forgiveness.
Damn it, I wanted begging.
What they did do was talk, about how they couldn’t take back the past, and can only move forward. They still care about each other. So, since Bing is going to be in town for a while (Netherfield is still not sold or rented, so it was easy enough for him to move back in), it seems they are going to try to be friends.
Jane and Bing are being awfully adult about the whole thing. Which I guess means that this is what an adult relationship looks like.
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23RD
“Bing—or should I call you Dr. Lee yet?—would you pass the potatoes, please?” my mother cooed across the table at dinner tonight.
She knows the answer to that question, by the way. She knows, because she’s asked some variation of it every night for the past three nights. Because if one were to infer that the return of Mr. Bing Lee to our quaint little hamlet is of the most interest to Jane out of all the Bennets, one would be mistaken.
When Bing left our house on that first day, he ran into my mother, pulling into the driveway.
My mother promptly flailed all over him, like a prodigal son-in-law returned.
Okay, that might be a little over the top—I have no proof of any flailing. But she did invite him to dinner that night.
To Mom’s credit, she restrained herself from pulling out all the stops this time. No trips to the store for forty-seven different possible entrées, no bananas flambé. She edited herself down to four simple courses—well, five if you counted the sorbet palate cleanser.
Dad had a hand in this newfound restraint. When I told him Mom needed to be clued in to certain things, he took it to heart. He didn’t tell her about the videos—thank God, I have no idea how I’d handle first showing her how to play videos on YouTube, and then the ensuing conversation. But he did tell her that George Wickham not only broke Lydia’s heart, but violated her trust. I’m not certain what other details he gave, but ever since then, my mom has been very supportive of Lydia, of her counseling, and of just keeping things calm around the house.
And that calm has included dialing back the enthusiasm she displays for her daughters’ jobs, futures, and, most importantly, love lives. Hence, the restrained meal.
I’m really proud of Dad. He’s been far more vocal as of late. He’s been talking to Lydia a little bit every day—and I mean really talking, not just the basic “how was your day” and “did you do all your homework” we got most of our lives. And I know, could he have prevented it, he would have cancelled dinner with Bing to spare Jane the embarrassment.
The thing is, Bing was more than eager to have dinner with us. So much so that Mom invited him back again. And again.
Which is why he was passing Mom potatoes across the dinner table once more.
As awkward as it was, luckily none of us were called on much to contribute to the conversation. Bing and Mom did most of the talking.
“No, Mrs. Bennet, I’m not Dr. Lee,” Bing replied.
“Not yet,” she said with a smile. “But that school of yours has just the strangest schedule. Did you say you were going to graduate in April or May?”
Actually, Bing had never said anything about graduation. Which was smart on his part. If my mom knew the day, she would finagle tickets and be sitting front row center when his name was called.
Bing didn’t answer Mom, and just turned to Jane. “Did you want any more pot roast?” he said softly, offering the meat (on a brand-new serving plate!) to her.
“Yes,” Jane replied. “Thank you.”
“That’s my Jane,” my mother piped up. “She loves my home cooking. And she cooks just as well, you should know. Even though she’s become so cosmopolitan in Los Angeles, she still knows how to make a house feel like a home.” She smiled, and Lydia and I shared a glance across the table. “But I do have to say the city agrees with her. Have you two never run into each other in Los Angeles?”
“No,” Bing replied. “To my infinite regret.”
“It’s a big city, Mom,” I added, dipping my toe into the fray.
“It’s too bad that her job let her go. I have no idea what she’ll do now.”
“Mom, you know I’m looking for a new job,” Jane cautioned. “I even had some phone interviews last week.”
“Your daughter is amazing, ma’am,” Bing said, smiling at Jane. “I’m sure she’ll find an equally amazing job in no time.”
“I’m sure she will, Bing,” Mom agreed. “But tell me, how long are you planning on staying in town again?”
“I’ll be here for a little while,” Bing replied, not taking his eyes off Jane. “I have some time, and . . . well, there are some things here that Los Angeles just doesn’t have.”
I am shocked that my mother managed to keep her fist-pumping subtle, and under the table.
The thing is, she might have something to pump her fists over. The way Bing looked at Jane all throughout dinner, and when I spy them talking alone, it’s clear that he’s not over her.
And the way Jane looks at Bing . . . I think she might be a little afraid of not being over him, either.
But Jane is holding fast to her principles. So far, they are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. And I think it’s smart. Why let yourself dream of something bigger, when you don’t know if anything is going to come of it?
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26TH
“What about this one?” Jane said. “I’d have to find a roommate to afford it, but my friend says that’s the safe part of Brooklyn.”
“It’s a studio,” I replied, leaning over her shoulder to look at the screen. “How are you going to have a roommate in a studio? Rotating sleep cycles?”
“At least it doesn’t have a bathroom key,” Lydia said from the bed. “Does anyone else have a really weird feeling of, like, didgeridoo?”
“A didgeridoo is an Australian musical instrument. But if you mean déjà vu, then totally,” I said, and Lydia threw a pillow at me.
Yes, there was a certain sense of déjà vu over the proceedings. Because once again, we were helping Jane look for an apartment. But this time, we weren’t looking in Los Angeles.
No, Jane is moving to New York.
She got a job. A great job, from the sound of it. Since Jane lost her previous job, and since work is delightfully rare in this economy, she’d been applying everywhere, not just Los Angeles and California. The job in New York was a pipe dream, a wild “why the hell not?” shot in the dark, but they liked her. They liked her style, her lookbook, the recommendations she got from clients, and the referral she got from her old boss at the style firm here in town (hey, it turns out her newer ex-boss in Los Angeles has a reputation as an asshole; go figure).
Sometimes, when you go for the pipe dream, you actually end up getting the pipe dream.
I am incredibly happy for Jane. And I feel a lot better about her career advancement this time than I did back in the fall when she moved to Los Angeles. Maybe because this is how it’s supposed to be, and I’m finally at peace with it. We are all growing up. And changing.
“Whatevs, wherever you live it has to have a spare bedroom for me when I visit after summer classes,” Lydia said. “My counselor said it would b
e good motivation for me. Oh, you should totally get a collection of hats. That’s what they do in Brooklyn, right? Wear hats?”
But thankfully some of us aren’t changing too much.
I like that Lydia is sounding more like her old self. A less boy-crazy, more future-planning version, but the spark that is Lydia is peeking out from behind the scared, bruised outer casing.
“I’ll make that my first priority,” Jane replied. “Right after rent. Which is . . . alarmingly high.”
“Well, your friend from college is letting you crash on her couch for a couple of weeks, so you’ll have a better sense of the market and what you can afford then,” I replied. “Plus, you’re selling your car.”
One of the first things Jane’s college friend told her was that no one needs a car in New York City. And you know what they say: when in New York . . .
“Well, I’m not taking my car, but I’m not selling it, either,” Jane replied.
“What are you going to do with it, then?” Lydia asked. “Just let it sit in the driveway?”
“I’m giving it away. To you.”
As Lydia began squealing about no longer having to car-share with Mom, and crushing Jane’s ribs in a hug, I noticed Jane’s phone play a familiar personalized ring tone.
Bing bing bing bong. Bong bing bing bong. BING! BING!
Three guesses as to whom it belongs.
Jane heard it, too, and escaped Lydia’s chokehold of gratitude. She picked up the phone and, after a second, silenced it and returned to looking at apartment listings on her screen.
Lydia and I looked at each other.
“I’m . . . gonna go tell Mom about the car. She’s going to be almost as happy as me,” Lydia said, giving Jane one last squeeze before slipping out of the room.
“You haven’t told Bing yet, have you?” I said quietly, once the door shut.
“No,” Jane said, her voice small. “But I will.”
“You’re leaving in three days.”
“I know!” She nodded, her eyes not leaving her computer screen. “And I’m going to tell him, but . . . I’m just getting to know him again. I don’t know how to say good-bye. Especially since I never had the chance to say good-bye the first time.”
I know why Jane is reluctant to say good-bye to Bing. Not because she doesn’t know how. I think she’s afraid that she won’t be able to when the time comes. Especially considering how she felt about him before.
“Jane . . . you have to stop not telling him things.”
She kept her eyes locked on the computer but was no longer looking at it. When she finally did speak, her voice was small, unsure.
“Do you honestly think if I had told him about the . . . forty-eight hours of worry, it would have made any difference?”
Now it’s my turn to stare into space, thinking. Would it have made any difference? I don’t know. Heck, it might have driven Bing away all the faster, especially if he was listening to a friend who was operating under the assumption that Jane was just using Bing. But then again, maybe it would have brought them closer. Made them open up to each other, and talk about the future in a way they hadn’t been doing before.
I thought about Lydia, and how much I wished we had tried to understand each other before Christmas instead of blowing up and getting angry. And yes, I thought about Darcy, too, and all we hadn’t said.
“I think . . . that you wouldn’t believe the problems that can be resolved just by people taking the time to talk to one another.”
WEDNESDAY, FEB 27TH
“Mom, do not go in there.”
“But I need to get your dad’s socks out of the den.”
I moved in front of her when she tried to dodge me, like a point guard blocking the shooter. (What? I know basketball. I went to college.)
“Mom, trust me, you do not want to go in there right now.”
“For heaven’s sake, Lizzie.” My mother sighed. “This is my house, too. I know your father doesn’t like anyone in his den, and now you’ve set up your secret little clubhouse in there—”
“Only because you turned my bedroom into your Zen meditation chamber. With an aquarium.”
“—but if I don’t get your father’s socks out from under the chair, they will stink to high heaven by the next laundry day. Trust me.”
She tried to get past me again. So I did the only thing I could. I told the truth.
“Mom, Bing found out Jane is leaving for New York, and he came over to talk to her, and they have locked themselves in the den. So . . . as much as I hate telling you this, it is possible that all your dreams for Jane’s future happiness hinge on this one moment. So for the love of all that is holy, don’t go in there right now.”
Mom blinked at me. Then blinked at the door. Then back at me.
“Under those circumstances, I suppose I can come back for your father’s socks later.”
Mom moved on to the laundry room and I breathed a sigh of relief, holing myself up on the stairs to wait. Not to spy. Just in case there was screaming.
When Bing came in while I was filming, I didn’t know what to do. In the kindest way possible, he demanded to talk to Jane. So, I just sort of . . . left them in the den.
I don’t know what is going on in there (hopefully some abject begging), but I can’t imagine it would go well if Mom walked in and saw them. Plus all of my camera equipment is out and . . .
Oh, crap.
I think I left the camera on!
SATURDAY, MARCH 2ND
Jane just called. She is safely ensconced on the couch of her friend from college in the grand and hat-wearing borough of Brooklyn (the safe part). And interestingly enough . . . so is Bing.
Not that he’s ensconced on the couch. But he is in New York City. Because he and Jane flew off yesterday in side-by-side seats.
That’s right. Jane and Bing went to New York. Together.
Don’t worry. They’re not engaged. If that were the case, my mother would be dead and we’d be planning a funeral.
Nor are Jane and Bing living together—Jane imposed some strict rules on his coming with her, I think smartly, and rule number one is separate residences.
But what they are doing is giving each other a second chance.
While I was hiding on the stairs (and yes, my camera was on, capturing everything), my sister and her ex-boyfriend were having the heart-to-heart to beat them all. And it turns out, Bing had been keeping some things from Jane, too—and from all of us.
For instance: it turns out, a third-year medical student doesn’t have a lot of free time to jaunt off to San Francisco for “interviews,” nor can he come to my quaint little hometown to spend time “just friends” with Jane. How did Bing get around this little issue?
He quit med school.
Months ago. In retrospect, it makes a lot of sense. The reason he was in San Francisco was that he was trying to get his head on straight and Darcy gave him a place to be right after he dropped out, so he could try to figure out what to do next.
I don’t know if Caroline and his parents even know yet. Well, they’ll know when they receive a call from him in their family’s pied-à-terre in Manhattan. I can’t imagine Caroline will be too pleased. But what can she do about it? It’s his life.
After they came out of the den, my mother pounced on them. But it was okay, because they were so happy and smiling, no amount of maternal flailing was going to take it away from them.
“Oh, Jane! Think of all the wonderful restaurants you’ll go to! And all the parties Bing will take you to!”
“Actually, Mom, since I’m the one with the job in the fashion industry, I’ll probably be taking him to the parties,” Jane replied.
“Darling, give the girl some breathing room,” Dad said, wedging his way in between them, forcing Mom to turn her fawning squeals onto Bing. “Now Jane, I know you’ll be happy—but I just want you to tell me that this is truly what you want. If so, I will be kind and welcoming, and take the irrevocable step of letting Bing v
iew my train collection.”
“Dad, I know what I’m doing.” And she kissed his cheek. “Go ahead and show him your trains. It will be your last chance for a while, since we’re leaving in a few days.”
Jane . . . Jane just took the biggest leap of her life. A new city, a new job, and giving Bing a second chance.
He wasn’t happy without her. He wasn’t happy, period. He’d finally acknowledged how much he let others influence his decisions, and decided to make one of his own.
And while Jane managed to survive without Bing, she is flushed with love when he’s around. But they are both different people from before, and I think it’s a good thing they are away from their families and other influences while they try to learn how to be with each other the way they are now.
I’m so proud of her. And I wonder if I will ever be that brave. Because I don’t know what’s next for me. I have my thesis to finish, another independent study to come up with, but then what? What’s in Lizzie Bennet’s future?
I started re-watching my videos to see if I left myself any clues as to what my path should be (God, my makeup in the first few videos was horrrrrrrible). But I’m just as clueless now as I was then. Sometimes all I think I’ve gained from the past year is a record of it.
That, and I’m a hell of a lot better at making videos now.
Actually . . . I’m really good at it.
TUESDAY, MARCH 5TH
Charlotte is in town! My beautiful bestie, having finished production on Game of Gourds, has earned a spring break the likes of which this town has never seen! There will be beer bongs and wet T-shirt contests, and incredibly bad decisions being made!
Just kidding. I think we Bennets have made enough bad decisions this past year—why go back for more when we (well, Lydia and Jane at least) finally started making good ones?
But Charlotte is back for a couple of weeks, and I think the world is better for it. Except for one thing.
Since Charlotte has been following the drama in the Bennet house remotely, she is very eager to revisit all of it. Lydia (Char still hasn’t found out who took down the website), Jane (she can’t believe Bing quit med school!), but most of all . . . Darcy.