I thought I would be back to sleeping well, but awoke at 2:30 am, doubtless due to some news I received today. No, it wasn't the guardianship hearing. The judge just set that forward six weeks, so as to appoint a guardian ad litem (an attorney for my daughter who will look out for her best interest, not necessarily what she wants). The thing that has me all upset is what my daughter's former roommate (I will call her "R") told me.

To understand what I am about to share with you all, I need to back up and set the stage. In January, my daughter (I will call her "E") got a new birth control implant in her arm (Nexplanon). This was E's third one and they are the most fool proof method of birth control possible and last three years. I was worried at the time that she would not consent to one, and was doing my best to not do or say anything around when she was getting it that would keep her from consenting; I saw it as possibly my most important responsibility to see that this got done as the last thing E needs is a baby. She did go ahead and get it, so I happily felt free from worry about her having a baby until it would be due again.

After E got it done and she expressed ambivalence about it, saying she did want to have boyfriend's baby someday, I explained to her (yet again), that she was not ready to have children and that if they did have a baby that everything would fall on her. As he can't keep a job, she would have to work to support them all and if she left the baby with him while she went to work, that I was convinced he would neglect the baby as he would be too occupied with smoking pot and playing video games to properly take care of a baby, the baby would be crying, not getting fed and not getting changed and would get diaper rash etc. I told her that if she left a baby with someone who was neglecting the baby, that she would be responsible, too. I also explained that if I saw that the baby was being neglected that I would have to report it and the baby would end up in foster care because I would not raise her baby for her. I also told her I thought she might be able to have a family someday if she had a partner who would truly help her, have a job and do his fair share, because she would need a lot of help.

Today, my daughter's former roommate R told me that E told her that E had gone to a clinic last week and gotten her birth control implant removed. Apparently E said, "I did it because I want my boyfriend to know that the second he gets out of jail, we can work on starting a family. E then explained something to the effect that it was a symbol to him about how committed she is to him.

I just can't even. E is doubling down on picking her rapist boyfriend who will continue to penetrate her in her sleep, to have sex with her when it hurts, who has never held a job for more than three months, whose only desires in life as far as I can tell are to have E support him while he does nothing but eat, have sex, play video games and smoke dope. E is deliberately planning on ruining her life, disobeying court orders (his conditions of release if he bails out and the DVO which both prohibit him from going near her) thus imperiling his freedom if he does manage to bail out while the trial is pending, and to put a future child into a perilous situation in which the horrible cycles in her past will repeat themselves, and for what?

I don't think boyfriend is getting released anytime soon (at least that is my hope, that the cash bond will remain too high for him to pay it, even after he is indicted), and E has a history of being promiscuous and won't use any kind of birth control. Her gynecologist and I have both repeatedly talked to her about using condoms, but E doesn't and won't if the guy doesn't want to. There is a fair chance in my mind that she will end up pregnant by someone else first, which I guess might be better than him being the father.

In this case, life may end up imitating art as at least one possible conclusion in this story for G.G. is that she would turn up after she winds up pregnant, though of course I haven't written that yet.

If you pray, we could sure use some prayers. I can't save E from herself and frankly have not a clue about how to make things better.

This chapter could certainly be longer and I have left you with things unresolved, but I think I am going to try to sleep for a couple of more hours now.

17.

When my cell indicated it was 10:28am and I had yet to hear anything from Chuck or Jane, I was growing increasingly irate. I was certainly in no mood to give credence to anything Chuck might say after that.

"You've had enough, haven't you," Rick commented.

"Yup, up to here." I indicated my neck. "Do you think I should text him and say 'don't bother coming over'?"

"Hell yeah" Rick enthused.

My fingers were still imputing the words when video popped up on my phone of someone putting in the code and then going through the front gate. It was Bingley's car, but the person driving was Jane. "Already here," I told Rick, showing him the video that now popped up of the car coming down the driveway.

"Speak of the Devil and he shall appear," Rick commented, wriggling his eyebrows. I struggled to imagine Chuck in a devil's costume. Perhaps he might wear a white tux with a black shirt, red bow tie and red horns and tail.

We watched the car get parked from footage captured on the last camera before the door. Jane got out of the driver's seat but Chuck remained in the car. There was no sound, but we could clearly see Jane (in jeans and a pink fitted shirt, hair and makeup immaculate as always) go around to the passenger door, open it up and then wait. She gestured animatedly, and then put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently. We watched for a while, but there was no movement on Chuck's part.

"This could take awhile," I commented. Then feeling nature calling, I decided this was my bathroom break opportunity. "Be back in a minute. You can let them in if they make their way to the front door before I return."

I wasn't as quick as I could be, spent some time washing my hands well and carefully wiping at my face with my wet hands afterwards. I would have just splashed a little water on my face had I not been concerned about wetting my fabric jaw brace. It wasn't that water would hurt it, but I thought it would be uncomfortable to wear wet. Looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my eyes barely noticed the now yellowing bruise. Instead, I took note of the fact I looked tense, those two little lines between my brows being visible.

While staring at myself looking back at me, I did my best to assume my bland and indifferent face. Still, a certain tightness around my eyes remained. It would have to do.

It was at least a minute after I returned to the living room, which was just off the formal grand entryway with its two-story high ceiling and the sweeping, curving staircase on the left, before there was finally a ring on the door. This time on my phone I could see and hear them at the front door, but I declined to respond to the ring, either by getting up or answering on my phone.

"Aren't you going to get it?" Rick asked.

"He wasn't in a hurry. Why should I be?"

Rick guffawed. "Nice. How long do you plan to make him wait?"

"How long should I?" I asked with all seriousness.

"Half an hour seems about right," Rick replied, "but maybe you'd rather get this all over with."

I nodded and slowly meandered toward the door with Rick beside me.

When I had almost reached the door, Rick suggested "Let me handle this."

"Okay," I deferred, preparing to be amused at whatever antics Rick would come up with this time. Just anticipating that was a fine tonic to my poor mood. It reminded me of when we were bored teenagers and we (along with George) had ding dong ditched a neighbor boy's home. Although it had felt fun and daring at the time, remembering that George Wickham had been with us, soured the recollected adventure.

Rick opened the door only about ten or twelve inches and blocked the door from opening further with his body. "May I help you?"

Rick's forced politeness was said in an exaggeration of the snooty tone of the butler that I was half convinced his parents kept around just to put any door to door solicitors or other undesirables in their place. Why else would anyone need a butler in this day and age? The way Rick spoke wasn't anything like his normal jovial and friendly tone, which is what Chuck would have expected out of Rick, having met him at least half a dozen times before.

Even though I couldn't see Chuck and he couldn't see me, I could hear the discomfort in his reply. "I have an appointment with Bill Darcy," Chuck said meekly.

Rick raised his left wrist toward his face and pivoted it as if looking at a watch, a watch I was almost certain he was not wearing. "That was about forty minutes ago, mate. I think you should reschedule."

Chuck replied in a slightly whiny tone, "But I drove forty-five minutes to get here." I rolled my eyes at that. As far as I could tell from the video, it was Jane that did all the driving.

"Not my problem," was Rick's flinty reply. I could easily picture Rick's narrowed eyes, his tight mouth after he fell silent once more.

"Please, may we see Bill?" Jane asked. Her tone was pleading.

As much fun as it was to hear Rick toy with Chuck, I was not sure that Jane deserved that, so I said "Go ahead and let them in."

"If you insist," Rick responded, not opening the door further in the slightest, if anything narrowing the opening by putting his shoulder against it firmly, "but first Charles, tell us why you are so late and didn't exercise even a modicum of politeness by bothering to text or call." Now Rick sounded like his mother.

"I woke up late and . . . "

"No more lies or secrets!" Jane burst in, silencing Chuck Bingley. "He didn't want to come, even though he knew he should. This morning he tried to pull the 'I might be getting sick and I don't feel well enough to drive' card, so I handed him a bucket to hold and I drove, but he kept debating whether we should turn around, debated it even when parking in your circular driveway. I told him to call or text you; his hands were free and he had no excuse, but he refused. We came as close to fighting as we ever have."

"Is all that true?" Rick asked Chuck.

Chuck made no reply.

I felt like we were getting nowhere. "Just let them in already."

"Okay, it's your show." Rick slowly backed up, opening the door. Chuck followed, rudely leaving Jane to enter last.

I felt a certain satisfaction in seeing Chuck's right hand in a brace with two fingers extended, knowing that he had suffered for the punch he landed on me. Chuck's eyes widened as he took in my face and the black brace; I hoped he was really taking in all the damage, feeling some remorse.

Chuck then said "Hi Bill," but his gaze did not quite meet my eyes.

Jane's greeting was much more friendly and personable. "Thank you so much for inviting us, Bill. From what I have seen of it, you have a very lovely home." Her eyes seemed to also apologize for the whole situation.

"Thank you for coming and getting Chuck here," I responded to her. Then looking toward both her and Rick, I added, "Now, he didn't exactly introduce himself, but this is my cousin Rick Fitzwilliam. Rick, this is Jane Bennet, Chuck's fiancee."

"Hello Jane, the pleasure is all mine," Rick rejoined. "It seems a little unfair to meet you now, when you are already off the market." He put his hand to his chest and looked heavenward as if wounded by Cupid's arrow. I wasn't sure if it was Rick's usual comedy act or if there was a bit of truth in what he said. Jane was, of course, objectively quite lovely, and had demonstrated a certain fortitude in getting Chuck in the door.

I invited everyone into the formal living room and we all sat. Rick and I were each in armchairs adjoining each other, while Jane settled on a grey leather couch and Chuck sat close to her, putting an arm around her possessively. Jane seemed a bit annoyed with that, even going so far as to say "Not now."

Remembering my manners I asked, "Jane, can I get you something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm fine," she responded.

"I'll take a rum and coke, if you're offering," Chuck commented right after her, even though I had not asked him.

I felt a little annoyed and put upon to be honest, but as a host of whatever this was, I felt a little obligated, too. But Rick saved me from having to respond as he did instead. "Bill was just being polite. If anyone wants water, I'll get it, but this is not an open bar and Chuck, given what you did, you are lucky that Bill is willing to see you at all."

"Nothing for me, then," Chuck answered, lowering his head so much that his hair obscured his face almost completely, except for the top edge of his reddening ears. Jane made no attempt to comfort him, leaning back into the embrace of the couch.

I said nothing. If Chuck wanted this meeting (a fact that seemed increasingly doubtful), it was up to him to begin.

After an uncomfortable minute, Chuck raised his head up, but still remained silent. Finally, after a little sigh Jane said "If you won't begin, I guess I should. Bill, thank you so much for the letter. It was very enlightening, especially after Mary helped me to put some pieces together. I talked with Chuck like you wanted me to, shared the letter with him as well, so I hope that was okay."

I made no response. It wasn't really okay, but what was done was done.

"In any event," Jane added, "as far as I can tell, only you or Caroline must be telling the truth and so for Chuck it has got to come down to who he would more trust to be honest from among you. Did you ever read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?"

I wasn't sure where she was going with that non-sequitur, but answered, "Yes, when I was a boy. I also read it to G.G. a few years back and watched the movie with her, too."

Jane nodded, "It is one of my favorite books, still, and one of Chuck's too. Do you remember the part of the book after Lucy and then Edmund have gone to Narnia, but Edmund denies it afterwards, says they were playing pretend, and Peter and Susan become worried that Lucy might be going mad and, so, decide to go talk to the professor about the whole thing?"

I nodded.

"I wrote down the important quotes for my purposes," Jane said. She opened up her purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolded it and then read.

"The professor says: How do you know, . . . that your sister's story is not true?

"Then Susan says how Edmund said they had only been pretending and the professor responds: That is a point . . . which certainly deserves consideration; very careful consideration. For instance-if you will excuse me for asking the question-does your experience lead you to regard your brother or you sister as the more reliable? I mean, which is the more truthful.

"Then Peter says: That is just the funny thing about it, sir . . . . Up till now, I'd have said Lucy every time. Then Susan confirms the same but questions how the whole thing about the wood and the faun could be true.

"Then the professor says: That is more than I know . . . and a charge of lying against someone who you have always found truthful is a very serious thing; a very serious thing indeed.

"The professor rejects the idea that Lucy might be mad, questions why they don't teach logic at schools and then explains: There are only three possibilities. Either your sister is telling lies, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth. You know she doesn't tell lies and it is obvious that she is not mad. For the moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that she is telling the truth."

Jane gave a decisive nod and then explained, "I used the professor's method on Chuck, asked him who was the more truthful between you and Caroline and he admitted that you are by far the more reliable and consistent of the two. So I asked him, 'if Caroline and Bill each declare that the other person took advantage of the other, who should you believe is telling the truth?' He had to admit it should be you, but still kept insisting that a woman couldn't take advantage of a man."

Jane paused and rolled her eyes. "Then I read him the pertinent pages in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and he had to admit the logic of it. I thought Chuck had resolved that all for himself after that when he agree to come talk to you, but yet here we are and he's not talked a bit." She turned to Chuck, squeezed his arm in what looked to be a comforting gesture, and said, "In case you didn't notice, that was your clue."

Chuck swallowed hard, looked up at me and said "Bill, I guess I owe you an apology. Caroline can be difficult and I should not have punched you."

Whatever I had been expecting, that was not it.