I've decided this is the next story that requires my attention and to mostly renew my "I'm not going to work on anything new until I finish up my pending stories" resolution from last year. As you may have noticed, I cheated a little in 2021 by working on short new pieces, so I've decided this is allowed. I may also make a decision to officially abandon something if I think I have better pending ideas than something which is in progress, but if so will specifically say that.

I wrote a first draft of my first screen play just after Christmas and have been revising it on and off since then. This other type of writing may keep me from writing and posting as much ff this year. We will see.

In other news, my husband and I have been recovering from Covid. Yes, we are vaccinated, but that doesn't seem to matter much anymore but for maybe helping us get a little less sick. Recovery is slow going. Even the milder omicron is no picnic and I predict almost everyone will get it sometime, unfortunately.

Chapter 6

Life went on as it is wont to do. I continued to attend counseling with Ms. Berry and to run with Rick, but I also continued to avoid anything which would remove me from my cozy, protected cocoon. That meant I continued to avoid all of the Bingleys, other than a quick text exchange with Chuck now and again. I did not check my social media at at all and disabled notifications. I had previously blocked both Caroline's and Louisa's numbers on my phone.

I knew that I could not avoid everyone indefinitely and soon I would need to decide whether G.G. would return home for the summer or stay on at the therapeutic boarding school. I had some ideas about how to bribe her cooperation with essentials if I were to let her come home. Perhaps I could buy her a white horse in exchange for the birth control implant, riding lessons and time with the horse for other things.

However, the world intruded much sooner than I expected it to do. Bingley called when I was in a counseling session. I had my phone silenced so I did not know about that until after, when I checked my missed calls. I had it in my mind that perhaps I should discuss the whole thing with Ms. Berry, how to talk to him and when, but in our next session there was no time for that as I needed to decide soon whether or not G.G. could come home for the summer.

Near the end of the session, Ms. Berry had very helpfully commented "You've had some peace in G.G. being away, in having the situation stabilize. I know you feel guilty about not having her here, but stability, certainty, safety is good for her, also. I want you to give some serious thought to how the situation may destabilize if she comes back now and how her being here would give George opportunities that he has not had while she's been overseas. I don't want you to parent from a place of fear, that she'll hate you if you don't have her come back, but from a rational place where your emotions (hers, Rick's and yours) are all acknowledged, but do not rule over rationality. I'd like you to make a list of the potential positives and negatives of her staying or returning, and the emotions associated with those and we can discuss them next week."

I was working on that list the second time that Chuck called, on Tuesday, and was already emotional about what it would mean for my relationship with G.G. to keep her at the school. Perhaps because I was overwrought, just seeing the name "Bingley" flash on my screen was enough for horrid remembrances to sour my stomach and make all my muscles tense. I also felt a sudden blast of anger at him, that he had let Caroline take me home that night. If I had answered then, I would have needed to fake cheer, and I could not bring myself to do it.

I resolved soon after that second missed call that I needed to call Chuck when I was feeling ready to talk to him. Given our many years of friendship, I was not ready to just abandon our friendship, even though I was very angry with him.

The next day, I started a new list about the pros and cons of talking to Bingley. Of course on the one side I had all sorts of things relating to our friendship and history. But near the bottom of that list I had "He can't let it happen to someone else."

On the "con" side I wrote. "I am afraid." Maybe I would not have put it so plainly before the counseling with Ms. Berry, but she was big about calling things what they were, plainly. She always said "Identifying and naming the problem always makes it more manageable."

Then below that, I wrote "Will he believe me?" I thought that one through for a while. What I would tell him might seem fantastic to him, he might even think I had taken advantage of his sister at first, but there were also all our years of friendship. Shouldn't that be enough? I wasn't sure, but the more I thought about it, the more determined I became.

Then I started to get practical. Clearly there were plenty of reasons to talk to Chuck Bingley. I just had to manage my fear and not avoid saying what I must.

I decided to control what I could. I planned to ask him to come see me. In my own home, I might feel safe enough to tell him what he wouldn't want to hear. I knew he loved his sisters, had a large blind spot whenever it came to them, always assuming they were better than they were, that they had good intentions. I was hoping, though, that he'd be willing to listen to me.

In the days that followed, many times I picked up my cell, looked up his contact info and almost, almost hit the button to call him, only to with shaking fingers swipe to the regular screen and click on an app to play a word game instead. Assembling words from letters, or putting a jigsaw puzzle together always calmed me down.

But finally, on Saturday, I decided I needed to act. I must have attempted to call him three times that day. But each time I chickened out at the last moment. Instead, I kept myself busy on word games until lunch and then the better part of the rest of the day working on a 1000 piece puzzle of a New York City-scape (which only got me perhaps a third of the way there, having made the edges and largely having assembled the freedom tower).

But finally when it was just shy of 7 p.m., I resolved that enough was enough. I was not going to be afraid of Bingley, certainly not! I hit the call button by his number and listened as it rang once, twice, three times. I remember contemplating whether to let it ring long enough to get his voicemail or how many rings would be enough to have proven I had made a legitimate effort, but just before ring four Bingley picked up.

With the cheerful, boyish tone only Bingley has, he responded "Hullo Darcy, so glad you called! I've been trying to reach you, but the news was too big for a voice mail or text. Two weeks ago she said 'yes!' Jane and I got engaged. I want you to be my best man."

I responded, "That's great. I kind of thought that might happen."

"So, will you?"

Again, I didn't directly respond. I had a sudden image of seeing Caroline in a bridesmaid's dress, of having to escort her down the aisle, of posing for pictures beside her. I couldn't, wouldn't.

I heard myself ask (and my voice sounded far away), "Have you set a date?"

"New Year's Eve. It will be a fancy, black tie affair. We will get married at ten and ring the new year in with a mind blowing shindig. We are renting out an entire hotel for the affair so everyone can safely party and then spend the night You don't have plans that far out, do you?"

I didn't answer that question directly, either. "I am happy for you." When I said that, I knew it was true, but I was not sure if I could be there. I was already justifying to myself that Bingley wouldn't really miss me if I wasn't there. While I certainly wouldn't have minded seeing Elizabeth Bennet again, there was no way I wanted to be in a hotel with Caroline. I could imagine her slipping something into my drink and then taking me back to a room or her talking a maid into letting her into my room while I was asleep. Perhaps this thought was not fully rational, but it felt very real at the moment.

"You'll stand up with me, right?"

I hedged, "Maybe, but we really need to talk about some things." I purposely made the topic vague, even as a little voice in my head added (just to me), Will you really tell him what Caroline did? Will you use the "r" word or will you clean it up with euphemisms, make it so vague that you aren't shamed and he is left just confused? I added, "Do you think you could come over sometime? Tomorrow or some evening next week?"

"If this is about Caroline," Bingley responded, "don't worry about it. Sure, she was hurt, felt you took advantage of her when she was weak, knowing her feelings for you, but I believe that you didn't mean to hurt her, that it was unconsciously done. Things don't always work out. She's agreed to be mature about it, has already promised me that she'll forgive you. Although I wish you'd given a potential relationship with her more of a chance. I was kind of mad about it for a while, but we can get past it."

"Forgive me?" I murmured in disbelief more to myself than him.

Bingley did not seem to catch my tone for he responded, "Of course we all will. Here."

Then a voice I was not at all ready to hear in my ear said in a simpering tone, "Oh Darcy, you really hurt me, but I'll forgive you, for I am certain you are sorry for using me. Who knows, maybe we could have a second chance?"

I was so shocked that I uttered not a single word in response. I felt spit fill my mouth and even as I swallowed it down, my stomach soured.

My very silence must have encouraged her as she then proclaimed, "Oh Darcy, it seems as if you have fallen off the face of the earth. We all miss you very much."

My next visceral reaction to hearing her voice was to hold the phone painfully tight, freeze and not breathe or blink. I suppose I became a sort of instinctive possum, which made no logical sense. She knew it was I.

Caroline prattled on and on, seemingly not cognizant of the fact that I had yet to say a single word to her, but by this time she was already sounding far away, for the rowboat on the sea that I had described to Ms. Berry had capsized and I was being dragged around in tighter concentric circles, a whirlpool that like a flushed toilet was determined to take me down. I was being drawn down into the cold depths, my ears, nose and throat choked with water, all of me swallowed up.

All I knew was that I had to make it stop. I pulled the phone from my ear and with clumsy fingers swiped at the phone icon to hang the call up. I could not seem to do it.

Finally, I was able to loosen my grip on the phone and let it slip from my hand. It plunked safely down on the carpet below. I could still hear Caroline's hated voice, but now she was calling "Darcy? Darcy? Are you there?" and then murmuring to her brother, "I think it is a bad connection" and then to me again "Darcy, I'm going to call you right back."

During the interval of blessed silence, I staggered to me feet and trotted and then ran to the bathroom. My stomach was roiling and I intended to drink a little water from the tap, but after the first mouthful began throwing up bile. I heaved several times before I felt I might be done and then sat myself down on the closed toilet. It was then that my phone in the other room began to ring.

My sour stomach forced me to my knees and into the porcelain commode, I vomited again, my eyes streaming at the violence of my efforts. The phone rang to voicemail twice before she finally gave up. Fearing another repetition, I finally made my way back to my phone and shut it off.

I tried to work on my puzzle after that, but I could not make myself care about which piece connected to another. I wanted to try my word game, but was unwilling to turn my cell phone back on.

I don't know why it never occurred to me that Caroline would tell her own version of what occurred to her brother. Just because she hadn't while I was staying with them, didn't mean that she never would. In fact it made perfect sense to me that she would want to (when I was no longer around), depict herself as the victim and me as the louse that took advantage of her. But at that moment I could not even begin to deal with it all.

Giving myself the excuse that surely I must have a virus (for of course I could not be such a wuss as to become sick merely from hearing Caroline's voice), I hid myself under the covers of my bed but did not sleep for hours. When I did finally fall asleep I had the most terrible dreams.

In one, I was watching along with G.G. as George Wickham had sex with Caroline. Fortunately, they didn't seem to be able to see or hear us. I was trying to comfort G.G. who couldn't believe that George would cheat on her, and in that moment even though I didn't want to be watching this event, I was happy that G.G. would soon be free from him, as this would undoubtedly break her attachment to him.

But then in the dream Caroline left George's bed and G.G. trotted up to him and said "I'll make you forget all about her." In the dream I could not move, could not do anything. The only thing I was able to do was to close my eyes. I closed them tight but stayed rooted to the spot.

Oh, the things I heard were terrible! George said the nastiest things to G.G. even as he grunted with his effort and G.G. screamed in a way that I could not tell if it was enthusiastic or from pain. I tried to tell George to stop but my mouth, lips and tongue would not move for the longest time, and when I was finally able to get them to form the correct shapes, no sound came out.

Fortunately, I woke up then but I did not go back to sleep that night, certainly not. I got up and showered even though it was only four in the morning, and then I turned on my phone, saw that I had no messages and then watched some TV, a whole string of episodes about home remodeling.

However, later Sunday morning, my eyes got heavy and I fell asleep on the couch. This must have done me some good, but eventually I dreamed again. I think I had more than one dream but I only remember the last one. I was enthusiastically kissing and then undressing Caroline even while a part of me inside the man doing all that tried to resist. Fortunately, I woke up a sweaty mess before the conclusion of that interlude, but with a morning hard-on. However, it faded quickly as my mind reviewed the dream.

It was only after I showered again and dressed, that I saw that I had a message on my phone. It was from Chuck and read "Did you want me to come over and bring lunch today?"

The message had arrived at 9:42 am and now it was 10:33. I could have ignored it, but I worked up the courage and finally typed "Yes." Then I immediately typed, "Just you, right?"

He sent back a smiley face and a thumbs up.