At one point I might have been hurt by the haters. But not anymore. The basic mantra of "if you don't like my story, don't read it" never means anything to them. Frankly it is amusing sometimes how they willfully refuse to understand and think they can bully you into doing their will (a la Lady Catherine). I'm writing and posting because I like writing and posting, and at least some people like reading what I write, and I enjoy sharing it with them (giving us all a shared experience). If I have riled up the haters and they feel threatened then I must be doing something right, so kudos to me. As always, thank you for my kind reviewers.
And yes, you are supposed to be feeling sorry for Darcy here because he is trying his best and Elizabeth is frankly being kind of a terror. But anyone who has ever been married knows that it isn't always all sunshine and rainbows. Marriage doesn't change the fact that both people are flawed individuals who get in moods and take things out on the person closest to them. Could an attitude like Lizzy currently has push a couple toward divorce? Yes, if it persisted and was consistent for months and months, but in real life and in successful marriages, you put up with the other person for better and for worse and know that these are temporary problems and at some point things will shift and you are going to be the person that needs some grace.
5. The Big Blow-Up
With nothing left to do but wait for Elizabeth to return, William lay down on his bed and listened to Liam breathe. It was a relaxing sound and William thought that if he wasn't worried about Elizabeth that he might be able to take a nap. The pastor's words and running into that woman who had lost her mom at the florist yesterday made him think that he really had not anticipated that Elizabeth's first Mother's Day might be a hard day for her. He considered calling Charles to ask for some advice but rejected the idea almost as soon as it had entered his head. For all he knew, Charles was dealing with a moody Jane, too, although she usually acted so sweet that he couldn't decide for himself if she could get moody.
Jane had seemed a little sad in the last few months, and he had observed her looking at Liam wistfully when she thought no one would notice. It was clear she was happy for Elizabeth, happy to be an aunt, but longing to be a mother too. He knew it wasn't really fair that after trying so much longer than he and Elizabeth had, that the Bingleys had nothing to show for it but heart-break.
William considered that on this Mother's Day, in addition to mourning her own mother, Jane might be mourning the fact that she was having trouble becoming a mother (or that she had been a mother during her short-lived pregnancies, mourning those losses). Of course, Jane had not talked to him about her miscarriages, but both Elizabeth and Charles had told him about them.
William recalled a recent conversation with Charles at the mall food court, while Liam was snoozing in his stroller to the side of their chipped table, before their wives returned from "just a little more shopping," "I feel so hopeless about this sometimes. We both really want a baby, but after what happened, the last thing I want to do is put any pressure on Jane. After the second time she had to go through all these tests. I almost wanted something to be wrong with her, so that maybe they could fix it, but everything checked out. We were left with the fact that it was just one of those things that won't be explained, like maybe there was something wrong with the babies."
Charles gave a heavy sigh, and Will, not the most touchy-feely of guys, deliberately reached out and patted him on the shoulder. He was just formulating something sufficiently sympathetic to say, when Charles barreled on, taking the pat as response enough.
"Maybe it isn't in the cards for us without any help; maybe we'll need to go the invitro route. Her doctor suggested we may want to try that if she doesn't have a successful pregnancy the next go round and will refer us on. There's nothing wrong with that I suppose, and I sure don't want her to go through more losses, but all those shots and the science-upping of what should be just a very personal thing isn't very appealing, and just because she might get implanted with two or three embryos doesn't mean that any of them would take."
"That would be rough" William replied.
"Yeah, for sure. I suggested we take a break from trying, but she didn't want to do that either. I'm trying to be strong for her, but also to share in her pain. You don't know how lucky you are, for you and Lizzy to have ended up with a baby with no drama or fuss."
Charles looked over at the sleeping Liam who was positioned between them. "And he seems like such a good baby."
Thinking about Liam in the memory had William glancing over at the crib at his sprawled out son. He listened to Liam's quiet breaths and recalled how blessed he truly was to be a father.
Almost as if thinking about Charles had summoned him, a moment later William heard his phone ring. He leaped up to answer it, before it could wake up Liam. But he wasn't fast enough, or Liam wasn't deeply enough asleep, for two rings was all it took for Liam to be blinking and fussing. William saw it was Charles and held his phone to his ear by pinching it between his tilted head and raised shoulder as he lifted Liam up. "Give me a sec, Charles."
William settled into the rocking chair, Liam cradled in a half-seated position against William's left elbow joint, the rocking already commenced, before he lifted the phone from his shoulder and spoke further. "Sorry about that, I was getting Liam."
"Do you need to go?" Charles was well-familiar with how a baby could quickly derail any phone conversation.
William looked down at Liam; Liam seemed to be calming, content just to be cuddled and rocked. "No. I think I am good."
"Did Lizzy tell you our good news after she spoke to Jane this morning?"
"No."
"Jane's pregnant and it's sticking this time; I'm gonna be a Dad!"
William grinned, picturing how his best friend must be beaming and overwhelmed with joy. He imagined a toddling Liam bringing a toy over to a blond infant sitting in a bouncy chair. Perhaps the cousins would be close friends like he and Richard had always been.
"That's the best news! So you found out today?"
"Yup, Sweet Jane didn't tell me until she made it almost to fourteen weeks. She was getting sick and trying to hide it, but finally she couldn't. It's gonna happen this time."
"Oh, wow, I'm so happy for you both." William was happy, although he wondered why Elizabeth hadn't said anything.
Almost if Charles was reading his mind, he responded, "I guess Lizzy figured I should get the joy of telling you myself. I don't like that Jane is feeling so sick, but apparently morning sickness is a good sign that all the hormones are ramping up like they should."
They talked for a few more minutes, well mostly Charles talked and William listened. William was left in a happy mood, but that swiftly changed when Elizabeth returned home.
Elizabeth had thought visiting her mother's grave would give her some relief, but it didn't really. As she placed Will"s flowers next to the arrangement that Jane must have brought earlier that day, pink roses, her mother's favorite color and Jane's too, Elizabeth felt lonely and out of sorts. It was beautiful spring day, robin blue egg skies stretched overhead, with fluffy marshmallow clouds here and there. The green cemetery grass was a vibrant hue and the markers gleemed in the sun. Clusters of families dotted the cemetary grounds today, and the soft buzz of their chatter seemed more cheerful than sad. Elizabeth seemed to be the only one on her own, save for one old man with a cane sitting on a bench a few yards away.
Elizabeth would have preferred it to be rainy and miserable, to hear hysterically crying by the markers, to hear a grieving husband shout, "Why? Why?" to better fit her mood. She wanted to cry, to make a spectacle of herself, to be so miserable that a random person passing by would try to console her, but she had nothing, nothing. The tears would not come.
Instead, she felt not so much sorrow but what she knew was an irrational anger toward William and the whole world.
How dare the day be pretty and life move on! How dare everyone think she should just "be over it"! (No one of course had said that to her, but she still felt a pressure to play the happy new mother, a pressure that was pretty much in her own head).
Elizabeth wasn't thinking straight. Her mood was less a product of the importance of this day and more influenced by her lack of sleep, not just the prior night, but pretty much since she had given birth to Liam. While William was always happy to help, he didn't automatically wake up with any sound Liam made and far more often she let him sleep while she tended to their son, justifying that she was the only one who could nurse him, that being a full-time mom was her job, that William had an important job to be at every weekday and needed his sleep while she could catch up when Liam napped (although she seldom did).
Then added to her weariness was a lack of enough food and drink. Her breakfast was small, she'd skipped lunch out of pique, and her body had the high caloric demands of producing milk. She'd long ago burnt through the reserve of her post-pregnancy weight and was back to her naturally slender self, but for her more well-endowed, heavier chest.
This lack of sleep and food had given Elizabeth a dull headache, which just made her more miserable, and the sun that had come out from behind the clouds didn't help. But it didn't feel right to just drop off the flowers and leave. So Elizabeth stayed.
She didn't talk to her mom, didn't talk to the God she wasn't sure existed, or do much more than stand before the grave, lost in thought. Memories, specific and general overwhelmed her. They were all tinged by her tiredness, hunger and the feelings of inadequacy that her mother often engendered in her, for basically not measuring up to her mother's favorites.
Elizabeth couldn't really acknowledge to herself that she was angry at her mom for their mostly poor relationship, angry at the universe for snatching her mother away before her time, angry that her husband, her sisters, her father, her friends (even dear Charlotte) and everyone else didn't just understand the feelings she had and didn't tell them about. They should just know, should understand and react accordingly to support her as she needed. Of course that was irrational, especially as they were feelings that Elizabeth only partially understood herself. But hungry, tired, hormonal and heartsick as she felt, Elizabeth wasn't in any state to be rational.
Elizabeth stayed from sheer stubborness until her ballooning headache and aching breasts forced her back to the car. She drove precisely and caefully back to the house. As she drove, she pictured the sandwich she had left behind, could almost taste it and a big glass of ice water on her tongue. She imagined eating it and then settling down to rescue her frazzled husband who would have been dealing with a fussy and hungry child. Liam would reach for her and latch on with enthusiam, quickly draining her breasts and then fall asleep in her arms, in a "milk coma" and perhaps she might dose off, too, and make the day end that much sooner. Then she could wake up to it being "just another day."
Elizabeth entered a quiet house. She strode toward the kitchen and noticed with dismay the pile of presents on the table. She had told William she didn't want him making a fuss, and when he threw his money around it always made her feel vaguely inadequate. Determined to ignore that for now, she proceeded toward the kitchen counter to be met with . . . nothing. No sandwich, not a crumb. He'd better not have thrown it away. She glanced in the trash to see an empty garbage sack. She glanced about the kitchen, vaguely hoping the sandwich might be on another counter. Elizabeth was just getting ready to check the fridge when her eyes caught something amiss. On the valance above the kitchen sink was a purplish stain, a stain that had to have come from that morning's fruit compote.
If William had not come into the kitchen just then, all might have been fine. Elizabeth would have settled herself, found the Chinese food and with a meal under her belt would be that much more composed. But William had been missing his wife and hoping the cemetery visit had been what she needed.
"Hi Lizzy, I'm glad you're-" William stopped midsentence, his words arrested by her glare, a glare that until then had been reserved for Caroline Bingley at her worst.
"Where's my sandwich and how on earth could you ruin the valance my mom made me?"
William glanced at the valence, confused. His confusion was more than understandable, because the valance in question, a housewarming gift, was a riot of colors, what Mrs. Bennet had termed "Something wild, for my wild daughter who likes bright colors." William had thought it not exactly nice of her, and Elizabeth and William had debated even hanging the fluffy thing, which didn't really go with their sleek, modern kitchen with its white quartz countertops, steel gray cabinets and stainless steal appliances. But in the end, Elizabeth had decided to humor her mother because "she's trying, and she clearly spent a lot of time sewing it." They had both ignored that Charles and Bingley had received a double wedding ring quilt when they moved into their new place, something that had obviously taken a lot more effort on Mrs. Bennet's part, was romantic and truly lovely, combining Jane's favorite pink with Charles's navy blue, on a cream background.
William had thought Elizabeth would eventually change out the valance for something she liked better, but after her mother died he slowly came to realize it might now be a permanent fixture in their lives, until perhaps they moved to someplace with a different window arrangement in the kitchen.
Elizabeth in a different mood might have laughed it off, said while shoving him playfully, "Only you could get a stain so impressively high, Will. Oh, well, if we can't get it clean, good riddance."
"I'm sorry. I'll work on cleaning it tonight after you open your presents and we have dinner. As for the sandwich, I knew you wouldn't want it to go to waste so I ate it, I figured-" William was going to add "you wouldn't mind, since I got the Chinese food you wanted," but Elizabeth interrupted him.
"I'm still eating for two and it's sat for so long already that the stain may not come out at all. Not that I'd trust you to get it out, 'mister I take my clothes to the dry cleaner.'"
Elizabeth reached to unhook the rod, but it was out of reach. William hurried over to help. "Let me."
"No, I don't need your help. You've done enough. Just take care of Liam and distract him from being hungry while I do this."
"He isn't hungry, I fed him. Why don't you get some food yourself while I handle this?" He reached for the rod again.
"You did that on purpose, made it so I'd have to pump again even though you know how much I hate it."
She angrily shoved him, and he backed away, holding his hands up in surrender.
"I'm sorry, but when you left you didn't exactly leave instructions, I didn't know when you'd get back, and he got hungry. I'm not going to let my son go hungry just because it ends up being inconvenient to you."
Elizabeth knew he was right but that just made her angrier. "You're always thinking of yourself first. You got me presents I didn't want to make yourself feel like a big deal." Even as the words left her mouth, she knew that nothing could be further from the truth.
William felt attacked, but he tried his best to master his emotions as he made a measured reply. "I'm trying my best to be a good husband and father. I wanted to celebrate you as a mother. I thought if I didn't get you things you'd feel unappreciated. I didn't mean to stain the valance, but to make you the kind of Mother's Day breakfast you deserved. I know I was selfish and arrogant before, but I've tried my best to be a better person and I thought until now that I was succeeding, too."
William's voice cracked with emotion, the acknowledgement of his fears. He added, "If you don't want the presents you can throw them all away, but at least look at them first."
William turned away, he thought bitterly back to his hopes about how much he thought she would like Liam's footprints preserved in clay. He had been too optimistic, too sure that it was the right thing to make a fuss. Tears began rolling down his cheeks. Before she could see them, he hurried away, back to their bedroom, back to Liam.
William was always embarrassed about crying. His father had been the sort to say that "crying is for babies and sissys." William had had years to come to terms with his father's suicide, and privately thought that perhaps if his father had been better about crying, better about sharing his feelings instead of keeping them bottled inside where they lingered as unresolved grief and darkening depression, that maybe he would still be with them. Still, the engrained patterns of childhood's prohibition lingered.
The last time William had cried was when Elizabeth had turned him down flat when he had first asked her on a date. He had been sure of his success, had thought them half dating already when he keep joining her during her lunch break at the cafe attached to the used bookstore at which she worked.
William sobbed, flat out sobbed on their bed, losing himself in the unfairness of it all. Elizabeth must not really love him. He had been fooling himself.
He was roused not by her, but by babbling from Liam in his crib. They weren't words of course, but the tone, the tone was concerned. "Dadaba dadama?" William turned and got up. He swiped ineffectively at his tears and then blew his nose.
"I'm okay, Liam." He walked over to the crib. Liam reached his arms out toward William.
"Nanamama dabena?"
William picked Liam up and Liam snuggled into his chest. William sat down in the rocking chair and gently rocked it. Tears contined to drip down his face. He choked out, "Mommy's mad at Daddy. Daddy can't do anything right."
"Tada baba nana eba." Liam reached up curiously, touching William's wet face.
"Everything will be okay. After all, I have you."
A/N: I think we have just a chapter or so left after this. Yes, Elizabeth is wrong and she knows it and now it will be up to her to fix it Who was surprised that the title actually refers to Elizabeth's remorse and not William's? I like overturning expectations.