When they met, he was young and long-limbed and still had a vague aura of grief surrounding him. His eyes were often glazed and uninterested and his phone was never far away. Just one more text to his accountant, one call to his sister, one more, one more…
Caroline watched him. Something about him thrilled her. She watched the curve of his mouth, the stiff bridge of his nose, how he'd bite the inside of his mouth when his father's lawyer called during dinner. She wasn't sure how she felt about him. She was obsessed with his wealth, how casually he spoke about new gadgets. Caroline thought she knew privilege until she met Will Darcy.
They were a team, a duo. College kids with plenty and an oppressive sadness that threatened to suffocate them. They'd go for long walks through campus, silent and brooding, hand in hand. She knew, hypothetically, his story. Mother dies giving birth to restless and wild younger sister. Father has prostate cancer and drifts off, slowly, quietly over the course of five years. A media empire. The burden of experience that made him look older than eighteen.
Maybe he knew her story. It was easy to guess. A twin brother studying to become a genius, a cardiologist, a family prodigy. Her, small and quiet.Dignified, she thought. No expectations for the girl. Study fashion, they said. Study dance. Study what makes you happy, you girl, you.
They never spoke. They just walked and, when the mood was right, drank. The mood was almost always right.
He was her first. It was a business contract. Will was almost celibate, ascetic, seemingly above natural human longings. Caroline wasn't so lucky. She was prone to homesickness, loneliness, and mostly, wrath. She wasn't sure if she loved Will, but she wanted him. So they fucked. They both came, making it a success in her eyes.
And then the utopian college years were over, even though Caroline remembered being angry for most of them. Bing went to medical school through a cacophony of praise and admiration. She found a job as a secretary for an upscale lawyer, mixed vodka in her morning coffee, and reflected on Will's collarbones.
She still didn't love him. She loved her brother, her parents because she had to. It was biological and there wasn't any use struggling against it. Her love was tinged with bitterness and this too she accepted as a natural part of life.
Los Angeles was warm and busy and Caroline could lose herself in the boutiques and wine and cheese parties. She was popular, a gem, something people strived to know. She dressed well. She looked a little worn, a little broken and mysterious. She knew what was cool.
Will devoted himself to his sister and his new company. He messed up a lot, made amateur mistakes and would show up at Caroline's apartment at four a.m. in tears. She'd bring out the scotch and they'd sit on the floor, like they were twenty again. Caroline treasured these nights. She treasured this cracked and crumbling creature that relied on her for wordless affection.
And then he stopped coming. He was doing well, he said. He was succeeding. He had no more need for cheap love from a heartless bitch. Maybe he didn't say that. Caroline saw it in his eyes. She quit her secretarial job and toyed with the idea of beauty school. She met some celebrities. She travelled in the best circles. She became vegetarian.
Bing bought a house. They were going to live together, a trio, a dorm room recreated. Will's shyness and reserve would bring him back to Caroline's door in the night, frustrated and unhappy. And she would sit him down on the carpet, run her fingers through his hair and when they went both drunk enough, she'd allow herself to kiss him, to feel the resounding ache inside of her.