Author's Note: Soooo, you guys are amazing! I'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter (even if it seems some of you don't like Lizzie lol). Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your reviews. Also thanks to my beta for being wonderful and getting this to me even though she had an exam over 800 years of literature today.
Oh, and I feel like I should warn you that I have finals next week (UGH), so the next chapter might take a little longer than a week to get out (especially if I'm so depressed from failing them lol). Just a warning. Don't worry though. After final exams are over, I'll have all this free time to write. :]
Hope you guys enjoy the chapter.
Closer by everymonday
Chapter Ten: I'm Built To Fade Like Your Favorite Song
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February 24; 9:20AM
The apartment was clean. After finishing her physical therapy appointments, Lizzie found herself with nothing to do and no one to really entertain her. She was bored. There was still about a week before they did a final check on her leg to clear her to dance. Jane was still in Milan. Her other friends were too preoccupied with rehearsals and actually being ballet dancers to bother with her, not that she was really interested in seeing them anymore anyway. Lizzie went over the list of chores Jane had left her as well as a list of things that Jane though she should do if she had time and if it wouldn't inconvenience her. Lizzie had finished both lists. She'd even made her bed this morning in anticipation for her sister's homecoming. There was still about two hours before she had to be at the airport, so Lizzie decided to go get flowers for Jane.
As she walked down the busy street, Lizzie dialed Charlie's number to see if he wanted to come with her to pick Jane up. The number had been disconnected. Lizzie frowned and tried again, only to get the same response. Before she could give it much more thought, she spotted Charlie's face with the words "Goodbye Charlie!" She stopped at the magazine vendor, paid for the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest and stepped to the side to read.
Apparently Charlie had finished filming the season finale and left for Hollywood yesterday. Lizzie frowned, confused. Why would Charlie leave so soon? Jane said he wasn't leaving until May. Lizzie skimmed the article for more details, but it was just mundane facts about Charlie's time on the show and what the new movie was about. It mentioned that the movie wasn't supposed to start filming until June and said that Charlie leaving went against his original plans to stay in New York for as long as possible. However, it gave no reason for Charlie's change of plans. Did Jane know this? Lizzie was so confused. Why would Charlie leave so abruptly and disconnect his number without telling her? Weren't they friends?
Maybe he told Jane, Lizzie reasoned. He told Jane, and he expects her to tell me. Lizzie nodded to herself. Sticking the magazine in her purse, she walked towards the flower vendor, still not completely convinced. It said he left, Lizzie thought. Maybe he just left for a few weeks to get some things straightened out, and he'll be back. Journalists never get all the facts. Maybe there was some miscommunication.
Lizzie chose a large bouquet of daisies, Jane's favorite, and paid for them before walking slowly to her apartment, her apprehension growing.
February 24; 9:59AM
"Jane?" Lizzie asked, surprised to see her sister unlocking their apartment, suitcases at her feet. Her flight wasn't supposed to land for at least another hour or so. Lizzie checked her watch to make sure.
Jane turned her head to glance at Lizzie, eyes bloodshot and face tear stained.
"Jane? What's wrong?" Lizzie asked, fearing the worst. "Why are you home so early?"
Her sister opened the door the apartment and walked in with luggage in both hands. Lizzie followed, putting her purse and flowers on the counter. "Janie," Lizzie said softly. "Are you okay?"
Jane sniffled and shook her head. Lizzie gathered her sister in a hug and rubbed soothing circle on her back.
"He-he-he left," Jane cried, squeezing Lizzie tightly. "C-C-Caroline emailed me and told me she was sending back a jacket I'd left at their place. She said that Charlie was leaving to California and wouldn't be back any time soon. I got the email, and I took the first flight home. I was just at Charlie's. Caroline answered the door and told me Charlie had already left."
Lizzie listened, heart breaking for her sister. "He didn't say anything to you about this?"
Jane shook her head emphatically. "No! He wasn't supposed to leave until May! Why would he leave three months early and not tell me, Lizzie?"
She didn't know how to answer, so she just continued hugging Jane.
"Caroline said that maybe I misunderstood Charlie, but what is there to understand? He said he wouldn't be leaving until May!"
Jane began hiccupping and pulled away from Lizzie, wiping her eyes furiously. Lizzie went to get her sister some water while Jane grabbed some tissues from the counter.
She accepted the water and took such large gulps that she started coughing. Lizzie took the glass from her sister and handed her a napkin. They stayed silent for a few minutes. When Jane went to go put her luggage in her room and didn't emerge for ten minutes, Lizzie got worried.
She found her sister sitting on her bed, staring off into space. "I must have misunderstood his intentions," Jane muttered, almost to herself.
"What do you mean you misunderstood his intentions, Jane?" Lizzie asked as she sat next to her sister on the bed.
Jane stared at her feet for a moment before answering. "He didn't really love me."
"Jane!" Lizzie exclaimed.
"Charlie didn't really love me. He probably just said all of that to get me to sleep with him," Jane said sadly.
Lizzie's eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared at her sister. "No way, Jane." She shook her head. "Charlie's not like that. There must be some other explanation for this."
"There isn't!" Jane protested hysterically. "I've been thinking about it ever since I got the email, and after speaking to Caroline in person, I'm sure. There's no other reason for Charlie to leave without telling me."
"There has to be!" Lizzie ran her hand through her hair, thinking hard. "What did Caroline's email say?"
"Dear Jane," Jane recited, obviously having memorized the email. "While I was cleaning Charlie's old room, I found your jacket. I'll be sending it to you through the mail, so be a dear and keep an eye out for it, would you? I'd hate for you to lose such a lovely item. I'm sure by now Charlie's told you that he's leaving early for Hollywood early. He wants to get settled in the city and meet new friends before he starts filming. My only regret with Charlie moving so soon is that you and I will not be able to have more fabulous dinners together. I so enjoyed your company. Hope you're doing well in Milan. Do take care of yourself, Janie." Jane paused, turning sorrowful eyes towards her sister. "Is that not clear enough, Lizzie?"
"What?" Lizzie asked, confused. "There's nothing clear about that."
"Caroline said that she expected Charlie to tell me he was leaving early!"
"How did she act when you showed up at her doorstep?"
"She was perfectly civil. She was surprised that I was there, and said she felt terrible that Charlie hadn't told me himself and that I had to hear it from her."
"Caroline's never sorry," Lizzie pointed out.
"Lizzie, I know you don't like her, but I see no reason for her to lie to me," Jane reasoned.
"Other than being a bitch?"
Jane sighed. "Lizzie, please. Don't blame Caroline for this. She was just the messenger."
"Are you sure?" She was unconvinced.
"What would she have to gain from Charlie leaving?" Jane shook her head. "Charlie left on his own accord. He didn't love me. He just said it to get me into bed." Jane's voice cracked. "I was stupid enough to believe him."
"But that just doesn't sound like Charlie," protested Lizzie.
Tears welled up in her sister's eyes. "Well, leaving without telling his girlfriend doesn't sound like Charlie either. I must have just misjudged his character."
"Jane," Lizzie tried. "There has to be an explanation for all of this. Charlie loves you. Anyone could see that."
The tears fell and Jane shook her head again. "No. I don't want think about Charlie Bingley and his lies anymore, Lizzie."
"Jane, please." Lizzie reached for her sister, touching her hair.
Jane flinched. "I'd like to be alone for now, Lizzie."
Lizzie bit her lip, not sure what to do.
"Lizzie, please. I'm so tired. I don't think I've slept in two days. I'm just going to take a nap and not think for a while."
Unable to deny her sister much, Lizzie nodded and left the room. She stayed in the living room reading so she would be there when her sister decided to leave her room.
February 25; 10:42AM
Lizzie woke up with a crick in her neck. After a few disoriented seconds, she realized she was not in her bedroom, but in the living room. She'd fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Jane to come out of her room. Lizzie pulled herself up and knocked on Jane's door softly. A soft voice told her to come in, so she did.
She found her sister sitting on the ground in the same clothes she'd worn yesterday, hair in knots, and eyes bloodshot. There were clothes and boxes strewn all over the ground.
"How are you feeling, Janie?" Lizzie asked quietly.
Jane shrugged. "I'm fine. I'm trying to start packing. We're moving in a few days, you realize that?"
Lizzie nodded. "We still have about a week, don't we?"
"February only has twenty eight days, Lizzie," Jane reminded her. "My lease ends March 1st."
"Do you need help?" she asked.
Jane shook her head. "I'm fine. I just can't believe I put this off."
"Maybe you should take a shower and eat before you start packing, Jane," Lizzie suggested gently.
If her sister heard her, she gave no indication. Jane was folding clothes and muttering softly to herself about how little time there was.
Lizzie walked up to her sister and pulled the shirt from her hands. She pulled Jane up with little protest and steered her to the bathroom. "Just take a shower. You'll feel better, Janie."
"I have to keep busy or I'll start crying," Jane confessed.
"I know, Jane," Lizzie stroked her sister's hair. "You should shower though. I'll make you breakfast."
"No, that's okay, Lizzie. I'll make breakfast. It'll keep my mind off…other things."
"Okay," Lizzie agreed, honestly not really wanting to cook. "Shower first though. You'll feel better."
March 4; 10:34AM
A week's worth of showers and breakfasts later, Jane still wasn't feeling better, and it definitely wasn't for lack of trying. Jane had thrown herself into packing up the apartment, refusing any help from Lizzie. Then, when they moved into the new apartment, Jane put the same effort into unpacking. When Jane wasn't settling in, she was sleeping. Lizzie suspected her sister spent more time asleep than awake, but wasn't sure if she should say anything. Jane avoided the outside world whenever possible, skipping out on New York Fashion Week to the dismay of many coworkers and designers. Jane gave every excuse in the book, from needing time to settle down, extended jetlag from Milan, and not feeling well. Everyone was worried about her, but Jane ignored it.
So when Lizzie heard a knock at the door that morning, she really shouldn't have been surprised to find her mother on the other side with a bowl of soup and flowers.
"Where's my poor Jane?" was the first thing her mother said when she opened the door.
"She's still sleeping," Lizzie informed her.
"Is Charlie here?"
"No," Lizzie replied. "Why would he be?"
"He didn't come back from California when he heard Janie was sick?"
Lizzie let out a curse, realizing her mom didn't know the reason behind Jane being "sick." "Mom, Charlie and Jane broke up."
Her mother gasped. "No! He was so nice! Why would they break up?"
"He moved to California," Lizzie explained, not sure if she should elaborate. "Don't say anything about it to Jane. She'll start crying."
"I just don't understand." Her mother's lip was quivering.
"Neither do I," Lizzie muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." She glanced at the clock. "Listen, it's actually good you're here, Mom. I have to go to the doctor later so they can clear me to dance. You'll stay here with Jane, won't you?"
"Of course!" Her mother exclaimed, offended that Lizzie even had to ask.
March 9; 7:55PM
Lizzie entered her apartment quietly. She checked her sister's bedroom and found Jane sleeping, as usual.
Jane didn't seem to be getting much better, and it seemed she'd even given up on trying to keep busy. These days, she barely ate and simply moped around the apartment, watching TV (but avoiding any soap operas) or sleeping. Their mother stopped by to check on her everyday, usually staying if Lizzie was not there. Lizzie felt guilty for leaving her sister to go practice, but Jane insisted she was fine on her own. At first, Lizzie didn't listen and stayed with her sister, but their mother said she'd be happy to stay with Jane when Lizzie was gone, so she reluctantly agreed. A few of Jane's friends came to check on her, but she refused to see them, so Lizzie or her mom made excuses saying she wasn't up for company.
Lizzie was not sure how to deal with Jane's depression. Their mother insisted that Jane would get better on her own, but right now they just needed to make sure she stayed healthy. That was easier said than done. Jane moved from her bed to the couch then back to her bed again. There were a few bathroom trips in between, but other than that, Jane was stationary all day. She didn't eat much, and would probably never eat if it weren't for their mother or Lizzie forcing her. Even then, she picked and poked at her food, only taking a few bites at a time.
Sometimes, Lizzie woke up in the middle of the night to find her sister crawling into bed with her, as they'd done when they were children. Jane would hug Lizzie tightly and sob in her arms. Lizzie stroked her sister's hair and let her cry. Every morning when she woke up, Jane was gone.
They tried to make conversation with her, but she rarely wanted to talk back, giving only monosyllabic answers. Every now and then, Jane would ask how the ballet was going, and Lizzie would lie and tell her sister it was going fine, because Jane had enough to worry about. She didn't need to worry about Lizzie not being able to dance again too.
March 11; 9:32AM
"Dennis, if you love me, you'll come and coach me back to health," Lizzie joked into the phone.
Dennis Fairchild laughed. "You know I love you, Lizzie, but I can't just leave everything here and go to New York. Would you be willing to come to California?"
She bit her lip and stared across the room at Jane's sleeping form. "I can't right now, Dennis."
"Tough luck, kid. Want me to give you some names of some good instructors?"
"Yeah, I guess that'll have to do," she replied, suppressing a disappointed sigh. It had taken a lot for Lizzie to swallow her pride and realize she would not be able to get back to top form without help. Now the one person she wanted to help her was saying he wouldn't be able to. It wasn't that she was really expecting him to come all the way to New York just to help her come back to the ballet world; it's just that she had hoped.
March 11; 10:30AM
"Yes, hi, I was just wondering how soon I could schedule an appointment with Mallory Gardiner?" Lizzie asks the receptionist over the phone.
"Mrs. Gardiner is booked until next month. Would you be willing to book for late April?" the receptionist asked in a very tired, well-rehearsed voice.
That didn't surprise her. Mallory Gardiner was one of the best private ballet instructors in the state, Dennis had told her.
"Yes, please," Lizzie replied, waiting calmly for the question she knew would come.
"Name?" the receptionist asked predictably.
"Elizabeth Bennet," she said as confidently as she could.
There was a pause from the other end of the phone before the receptionist asked, "Elizabeth Bennet of NYCB?"
Is there another Elizabeth Bennet? Lizzie wondered. "Formerly of NYCB," Lizzie corrected.
There was another pause. This time, Lizzie heard some papers shuffling and a bit of whispering in the background. "Can you hold, please?"
"Sure," Lizzie answered. She twirled the pencil between her fingers as she listened to the elevator music, checking the list of other numbers Dennis had given her, hoping she wouldn't have to use them. She'd spent the last hour researching the names, and Mallory Gardiner sounded like her best bet.
"Miss Bennet?"
"Yes?" Lizzie asked, holding her breath.
"Will eight o'clock on March 15th work for you?"
Grinning, Lizzie replied, "Sure."
March 12; 10:00PM
Lizzie's cell phone rang just as soon as she entered her apartment. She balanced the paper grocery bags in one arm, kicked the door shut, and reached in her pocket for the cell phone.
She smiled when she saw who was calling. "Hey, Dad."
"Hey Lizard, how are you?" her dad's voice replied on the other end.
Lizzie put the bags on the counter and began unpacking them. "I'm fine, Dad."
"Dennis says you tried to get him to move to New York."
Lizzie rolled her eyes. Her father and Dennis were best of friends and she was a constant topic with the two men. "Yeah. I offered him a heavy load of money, but he still turned me down."
Her father chuckled. "I've always told you that money doesn't make the world go round, honey, despite what your mother may think."
"Yeah, yeah," Lizzie grumbled, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder so that she could use both her hands.
"I think it's good you're seeking help though. Did you manage to get an appointment in with Mallory Gardiner?"
"Yeah. It was like Dennis said. I just had to tell them who I was."
"You'll be back to dancing in no time, Lizard," her dad said confidently.
"I hope so."
"How's Jane?"
Lizzie sighed. "No better than the last time you called."
"Really? It's been a week!"
"I know," Lizzie replied.
"Honestly, I don't know where Janie gets all these emotions from. It's certainly not from me, and I think we both know your mother has no feelings unless it comes to money and clothes. Do you think your mother cheated on me, Lizard?"
Lizzie smiled. "Be nice, Dad."
"Why?" he asked. "You're not."
"Yeah, well, she's been really nice lately, taking care of Jane and stuff while I'm gone. I'm trying."
"Oh, all right," her dad grumbled. "How is the old hag anyway?"
"That's so not being nice." Lizzie laughed. "She's fine. She goes back and forth between being worried about Jane and me to being proud of Lydia and Cat."
"What are the Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber up to these days?"
Lizzie ignored the jab at the twins. "The twins are fine. They landed a contract with ABC Family to do a show or something."
"Ah," her father replied. "I see the other sperm donor is trying to compete with me. Well, clearly my spawn win."
She smiled. "I don't know, Dad. Jane and I are kind of sucking right now."
Her dad laughed. "Just a rough patch, my dear. Don't worry," he reassured her.
Though they were just words, Lizzie was oddly comforted by them, or perhaps by the fact that her father still had faith. "Thanks, Dad," she mumbled.
"No problem," he said. "Well, Lizard, I was just calling to check in. I'm an old man, and I think I'm going to go to bed now."
Lizzie glanced at the clock on the microwave and smiled at how early it was. "You really are an old man. I bet you have a glass of warm milk waiting for you right now."
"Wrong," he said smugly. "Condensed warm milk."
March 15; 9:32AM
"Are you in any pain?" Mallory Gardiner asked, looking down at Lizzie.
"No," she lied. The truth was that her legs were in a ridiculous amount of pain. It had been three months since she'd danced, and her legs hadn't been prepared for the sudden change. Sure, physical therapy and practicing on her own had helped, but it was nothing compared to the last hour she'd just had with Mallory Gardiner. Her left leg was throbbing and her right leg honestly felt like it was going to fall off any second now.
"No need to lie, Lizzie," the instructor said, sitting down next to her. "Any pain is normal. You haven't used your legs for dancing in a while. I'm impressed that your muscle can even hold you up."
Lizzie nodded, stretching her calf some more. "I'm not used to being in this much pain."
"It's normal," Mallory repeated. "You just need to build your muscles up. After that, I'm confident that it'll pass."
"Soon?" Lizzie asked.
"It depends," she answered. "I don't want to give you any time frames to get your hopes up."
Lizzie nodded again, watching Mallory watch her. Lizzie guessed she was in her early forties. Her light brown hair was showing signs of gray and she had crow's feet on her eyes. Mallory was British and had spent most of her ballet years dancing with the Royal Ballet Company. When she retired in her late twenties, she moved to the States to be with her husband, Edward Gardiner, an American. She opened up a private ballet studio two years after moving to America and opting to only offer private lessons to serious students.
When Lizzie had shaken the older woman's hand earlier this morning, she felt Mallory's eyes skim over her body calculatingly. The first ten minutes together had been spent filling Mallory with the details the press hadn't. The older woman didn't give pitying looks while Lizzie relayed her story, offering a few medical documents for further information. Mallory studied the documents with the same eyes she'd used to study Lizzie's body. Lizzie was questioned about her goals and expectations, and Lizzie confessed that she just wanted to be able to be the dancer she was before. Then, Lizzie was asked to perform some standard ballet moves. Embarrassingly, Lizzie had fallen over more than once. Each time, Mallory simply told her to get up and try again.
After the assessment, Mallory told Lizzie that she could help her be the best that she could be with this condition, but she would never be able to be the dancer that NYCB had hired. Lizzie had flinched at the bluntness of the words. "I don't say this to be cruel, Lizzie," Mallory had said. "I say this to be honest. I will never lie to you as your instructor." Following those words, Mallory proved just how tough an instructor she could be.
Lizzie sighed and stood up slowly, wincing at the unsteadiness in her legs.
"I can clear my schedule so that we can meet twice a week, but you'll still have to practice on your own as well," Malloy said, standing up as well.
"Thank you," Lizzie replied gratefully.
"Now, go stretch out your legs and we can decide what to do next."
March 22; 1:36AM
Movement in her mattress stirred Lizzie from her sleep. Jane had crawled into bed with her again. However, tonight was different from their usual. Jane simply hugged her and sniffled a few times, then went quiet. After waiting a few minutes and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, Lizzie looked over at her sister to find Jane sleeping soundly. Lizzie smiled, taking this as a sign that Jane was getting better, slowly but surely.
March 30; 9:22AM
Lizzie knew she was going to fall about a split second before it happened. She landed on her knee painfully, and instead of getting back up, she let her entire body collapse facedown onto the floor.
"Get up, Lizzie," Mallory said.
Lizzie ignored her, focusing on the way the cold floor felt on her face.
"Lizzie," Mallory warned. "We've talked about this."
Lizzie still continued to ignore her.
Mallory sat down next to Lizzie and spoke with a stern, yet comforting voice. "It's going to get worse before it gets better, my dear."
April 5; 1:22PM
The twins were becoming troublemakers. They'd never been completely innocent, but they had never been so public about their habits before. Lizzie couldn't pass a magazine stand without seeing their faces followed by some scandalous headline. They weren't well known in their own right, but as Ford Model Jane Bennet's Half Sisters, Injured Ballet Dancer Lizzie Bennet's Half Sisters, and Former Actress Faye Delaney's Daughters, the media found a story.
It shouldn't have surprised Lizzie when she came home to find the twins giggling on the couch, passing a bottle of Merlot back and forth.
Lizzie snatched the bottle away without a word.
"Lizzie!" Cat hiccupped.
"Jane said we could!" Lydia cried, trying to pry the bottle from Lizzie's grip.
"No, she didn't," Lizzie said confidently.
Lydia pouted. "Well, she said we should make ourselves at home."
"We're more at home when we're drunk," Cat said, hiccupping again.
"Plus, Mom said we could." Lydia didn't let go of the bottle, and neither did Lizzie.
"Mom said we can do anything we want!" Cat added.
"We're going to be TV stars!" Lydia said, tugging on the bottle again.
"You think ABC Family is going to keep you when you're getting drunk for the cover of every tabloid magazine in America?" Lizzie hissed, finally tugging the bottle of wine hard enough from Lydia. She walked away without looking back at the girls, not seeing their faces pale.
"You really think they won't keep us?" Lydia asked, looking worried.
"If they want to keep their family friendly image, they won't," Lizzie replied, frowning when she realized the bottle was about four sips away from empty.
"They can't fire us," Cat said confidently, though her eyes conveyed worry.
Lizzie shrugged. "Keep drinking like you are, and we'll see who's right."
April 15; 11:48PM
Charlotte emailed her. It surprised Lizzie, but she was glad to hear from her friend nonetheless. The landlord had told Charlotte that someone had come by to look for her, and then described Lizzie to her. So Charlotte emailed her, extending an olive branch.
Lizzie still didn't agree with what Charlotte was doing, but she felt that if Charlotte could forgive her for her harsh words, Lizzie could try to understand her friend's situation.
They slowly tried to rebuild their friendship through emails. Lizzie learned that Charlotte loved Texas, loved Collin, and loved Ms. de Bourgh, but missed New York and Lizzie and Jane and her other friends. There was no word on whether or not Charlotte was working, and Lizzie didn't ask, fearing she'd get angry at the answer. It was a tentative friendship at best, but it was better than nothing.
April 18; 10:24AM
After months cooped up in the apartment, Jane left to go buy paint and groceries. Lizzie was sipping her tea and reading the paper when Jane came into the apartment, arms full of bags, rambling about painting the apartment in the next week. She didn't hear any of it. All she knew was that her sister had finally gotten dressed and faced the outside world. Lizzie began to feel hopeful.
April 19; 11:21AM
It brought Lizzie an immense amount of pleasure to know that this would be her last time in the hospital.
She sat in the waiting room of the hospital, idly flipping through an old magazine, hoping the doctor would be ready for her soon. The sooner they started the check up the sooner they'd be finished.
"Liz?" a familiar voice called from a few feet away.
Lizzie looked up and found George Wickham making his way towards her. She smiled politely at him. "Hey George. How've you been?"
"Good. Haven't seen you around in a while," he commented.
She nodded. "People tend to only visit hospitals when they're sick or injured."
"Well, are you either of those right now?" he countered.
"No," she admitted. "I suppose people go for check ups too."
He nodded.
"So why didn't you show up at the party?" she asked before she could stop herself.
His face flushed slightly before he answered, "Hey, listen. Sorry about that."
She waited for him to give an excuse, but he didn't. Instead he just gave her an apologetic smile. It took her a brief second to realize that she didn't find his dimples as adorable as she had before. "It's fine."
"Let me make it up to you, Liz. How about I take you out for coffee sometime," he tried.
"Sure." Lizzie shrugged, not understanding why she only felt indifferent. "You have my number."
April 22; 7:22PM
"How's the ballet going?" Jane asked while they were eating dinner in their newly painted kitchen.
Lizzie shrugged. "Fine."
"Lizzie," Jane said softly. "You can tell me."
Pushing her food around, Lizzie mumbled, "It's just taking longer than I expected. It's hard."
"But not impossible," Jane reminded her with a small smile.
Lizzie smiled back. "No, I suppose not."
"I'm here for you, Lizzie," Jane said quietly.
Lizzie nodded, but said no more.
April 27; 12:00AM
Lizzie stared at the hands on the clock, watching them move, allowing her birthday to go as quietly as it came. Twenty-five felt heavier than twenty-four. At twenty-four, she had the world at her feet. At twenty-five, she could barely use her feet the way she wanted. It was depressing.
Lizzie hadn't minded the small family dinner. It was sweet and quaint. Her mother and Jane had worked to cook dinner and the twins took a break from their disastrous existence to bake her a lovely lopsided double layer cake. A few friends had sent flowers or cards. Her father sent flowers and a few of her favorite books in first edition. Her mother, not to be outdone, bought her a beautiful strand of pearls. Jane took her shopping and bought her a few new dresses. Mallory gave her a week's worth of lessons for free.
It had been a quiet, thoughtful birthday; celebrated with the people she loved, minus her father and Dennis, who promised to visit her some other time. The gifts had been great, and the food had been delicious. Lizzie had everything she could have needed at twenty-five, probably more than she deserved.
So when she blew out the twenty-five candles on the chocolate cake her sisters had baked, she wished for the one thing she wanted, the one thing no one could give her.
April 29; 3:22PM
Lizzie came home to broken TV and a messy apartment. There was a ripped up magazine on the ground, papers everywhere, and shattered glass in the kitchen. The TV had a harsh crack in it, and Lizzie found the remote in pieces on the floor.
"Jane?" Lizzie called in alarm, opening her sister's door, not bothering to knock.
"What?" Jane asked sharply from her bed.
"What happened?"
"I saw Charlie," she replied flatly.
"Here?" Lizzie asked.
"No," Jane shook her head. "On TV."
The state of the TV and apartment made sense to Lizzie now. She sighed and went to hug her sister.
"I thought I was over him," Jane whispered into her hair. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing," Lizzie assured. "Nothing at all."
"Then why did he leave me? Was I not good enough in bed?" Jane's eyes filled with tears.
Lizzie pulled back and looked at her sister. "Janie. Don't think like that."
"I just don't know how he could do that to me," Jane sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I just want to put it all behind me, and I just can't!"
Lizzie hugged her sister tightly, holding her and letting her sob.
May 2; 11:25PM
The problem with being a model and a recovering ballet dancer was that they had to watch their figures so they couldn't binge on ice cream. That didn't stop the Bennet sisters though.
However, after a particularly heart breaking day at the ballet studio for Lizzie and a heart breaking package was delivered to Jane (who could have guessed that her own jacket could bring her so many tears?), the sisters went out and bought a new flat screen TV, hooked it up, then watched movies and ate ice cream in front of it.
May 15; 10:30AM
Sadness, Lizzie decided, smelled like the floor of the ballet studio. It smelled like endless hours of work, only to result in the goddamn floor. She often felt like she was choking on the smell of floor and disappointment.
She spent every day in a ballet studio: five days by herself and two with Mallory. Some days, she worked herself so hard and her leg hurt so much that she couldn't get up right away. Some days, she just sat on the floor, fingers tracing the ugly, jagged scar on her leg, mourning what she lost until Mallory would yell at her to get up. Some days, by herself because Mallory would have never allowed such self-pity, Lizzie sat on the floor, touching the dent where muscle was supposed to be, crying until she was blind with tears and rage and frustration and sadness.
Sadness smelled like salt water leaking, leaking, leaking from her eyes. It leaked and leaked, and there was no end in sight, no plumber to call, and no way to stop.
Sadness smelled like protein shakes and her fucking weight in vegetables and dieting like she'd never dieted before to build her muscles. She knew they were growing stronger, she could feel it. It wasn't enough though, and that killed her.
Mallory said she was doing unbelievably well, but it still wasn't good enough. She needed to do better than well. She began going to ballet companies asking about the chances of her getting a job at this point, despite Mallory's advice not to.
Lizzie should have listened.
Some of the very people that used to sing her praises were telling her that she would never dance again. That there was no way she'd ever get a job with part of her calf muscle missing and a scar in its place. She sat in their too clean offices, staring at their various awards, nodding her head politely, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
Sadness smelled like artificial flowers in a room full of opinions. It smelled of blunt words followed by an apology, or an apology followed by blunt words, and advice that she didn't want to hear.
On the floor, on her worst days, their so-called advice consumed her, and she believed they might be right. She knew her feet weren't as fast as they used to be, her jetés weren't as high, and her turns weren't as graceful. Everything that had made her famous had somehow disappeared. On the floor, on her worst days, she wanted to just curl up and give up.
Sadness smelled like a new morning. It smelled like morning air that she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth as she went on her morning run. Sadness smelled like the start of every new day, but the continuation of this feeling of utter hopelessness that she just couldn't seem to shake.
Sadness smelled like hours, days, years of practice that she felt should have proved her immune to this. Sadness was realizing it didn't. Sadness smelled like coppery, metallic, red blood. Blood on her toes and on her knees and on her hands and in her mouth; blood everywhere, reminding her that it was blood that started this whole mess. Blood, snow, and a fucking car accident that shouldn't have meant anything. Sadness smelled like sweat and tears that blinded her vision and a dizzying and painful pirouette that brought her to the floor again. Sadness smelled like the fucking floor.
The only person that seemed to remotely empathize her pain was Jane, because she'd lost something recently too. It didn't matter that what the things they lost were so starkly different. They understood each other. So they leaned on each other, as always, waiting for time to heal the wounds that couldn't otherwise be healed.
Wish me luck on my exams and tell me what you think of the chapter. :]