Beginning, Section II

Chapter 10 - Mens et Manus

Posted on 2011-07-06

"Of course I feel flattered, but why me as the valedictorian? After all, there's so many of those traditional MIT types - you know, those guys who're prepared to devote their lives to proving Fermat's Last Theorem or finding a solution to global warming by 2030. I'm just a wannabe fighter pilot who thinks he's gonna get a kick out of zipping about at 5G. In my whole life, I wouldn't be able to hold a candle to any of them." It was most unlike Frederick to declare himself not up to a challenge, but he had too much self-knowledge to think of himself as the leading choice to be the first MIT valedictorian of the new millennium either.

"I don't think that's such a mystery. Any 5.0 GPA is as good as any other, isn't it? On that level at least, you're even with them. And then, there are the qualities you've got that they haven't. Like leadership, for example. And charisma." Anne paused, a blush creeping up on her face. "You have way more of a story to share than many of them. And even for those who do have an equally inspiring life story to tell, most of them couldn't tell it the same way you would. You got to where you are today because you have hunger and passion and fire, and you wear it right out there on your sleeve."

"That may be true", Frederick acknowledged, "but still, there's a far cry between me and those baby Einsteins who were winning Olympiads from their highchairs."

"Well, everyone knows very well that MIT has plenty of those sorts of people. I'll bet the reason why they picked you is precisely because you're different. Because you'll show that MIT can attract another type of person - that action-oriented, street smart people can succeed here too. You'll break the stereotype that MIT is only for geeks."

"So what do I do from here?"

"Just tell 'em your story. Tell 'em how the kid who spent all his afternoons at the half-pipe on his skateboard getting as much air as he could, eventually ended up getting highest honors at MIT."

"Tell 'em." Anne's words never left Frederick's mind as he stepped up on the podium and addressed the crowd, welcoming them to the commencement ceremony. It might be the case that nobody did show-and-tell better than Frederick Wentworth; but still, the magnitude of this ultimate show-and-tell was enough to instill a sense of awe in even the most seasoned student leader. Yet Frederick remained unfazed, as long as he hung onto Anne's words of encouragement.

"By sheer statistics, I shouldn't be standing here today. Not even ten years ago, I was going to the seventh grade at an inner city public school, and if anyone told me that I'd end up graduating from MIT, I'd have dismissed it as the most improbable of fairy tales. After all, the pure odds were against my even finishing high school. Detroit, where I come from, has one of the lowest graduation rates in the country. Back then, I acted out my biggest dreams in the afternoons after school was out, at the half-pipe on my skateboard. It was the feeling of flying that kept me going; whenever I was out there getting air, I imagined I was flying away from all the voices, including my own, telling me that I'd never get off the ground.

"And it was precisely this dream of flying that's got me to where I am right now. I was waiting for a direction in life, only knowing that I loved the rush of adrenaline every time I got airborne. The road leading me to my current career path had very little premeditation, very little calculation, and a lot of passion and intuition. On Sunday, I'll be heading off to Lackland, and I'm looking forward to a lifetime of getting air; only this time, I won't be on a skateboard but hopefully, I'll be in an F-16. It doesn't matter that most of my worldly belongings could fit into a backpack, or that for the next few years or more, the only home I'll know will be just a dormitory room at best; the satisfaction of living my dream, every single day, will be more than enough to make up for all the creature comforts that I'll be leaving behind.

"If you asked any of my classmates today, I'm sure they'll also have a similar story to tell; a story of how a childhood dream became a passion, and how that passion has grown into a larger force that will guide each of us for the rest of our lives. For some of us, our passion will drive us to push new frontiers in technology and innovation; for others, it will lead us to write history in other arenas, be it politics, business, or philanthropy.

"The motto of MIT is Mens et Manus - mind and hand. I think all of us can safely say that college has opened up our minds in ways that we'd never have thought possible. But now, as we step out of college into the real world, at the cusp of a new millennium, I challenge each and every one of us to bring forth what we have learned in mind, and use our hands to make a tangible difference, whether big or small, to the world we live in. As a humble pilot, I will mainly lead with my hand, and for the most part, I may be just a small cog in society at large. But I have every confidence that many of my classmates around me will be playing a much bigger role to shape this new millennium into a distinct era of our own. I am sure this is true for all my peers graduating today, or this month, wherever in this country or in the world: we all believe the future belongs to us.

"For that, we have to thank our parents, and our grandparents before us. Many of the opportunities we have today didn't exist just one or two generations ago. The 20th century was an age of innovation that spawned many of the industries we see around us - automobiles, aerospace, chemicals, electronics. Much of the technology that we take for granted today, and many of the disciplines where we will make our livelihoods in future, are a direct result of all the industrialization that's happened over the past century. And the industrial age of the 20th century is the bedrock of all the exciting new opportunities waiting for us to build our dreams upon as we move into the 21st century - such as new media, clean technology, biotechnology and nanoscience, just to name a few.

"On this day, let us also take some time to thank our families and our friends for all the sacrifices that they've made to get us to where we are. For every personal story you hear from someone who's graduating today, there will always be the story of someone else who believed in us; someone who celebrated our triumphs, and picked us up when we were down. This person, or these people, may be our parents, our siblings, our grandparents, uncles, aunts; they may be our boyfriends, or girlfriends, or the lifelong friends we've made during these unforgettable years in college. Let us thank them for walking with us through this journey; a very special time in our lives when we're old enough to know what we want in life and go after it, yet young enough to believe that anything and everything is possible.

"And now, let's all go out there and graduate. After all, the sky's the limit!"

After the ceremony was over and all the diplomas were handed out, Frederick made his way back from his seat in front to join Tom, James and the girls, who were already milling and mingling about on the lawn. He'd never seen any other occasion at college with so many family members present - at freshman orientation there'd been a fair number of parents around, but now, the graduates were surrounded by family of all ages and all generations: white-haired grandparents sitting in the shade; little brothers and sisters tossing colorful balloons and cap-and-gowned teddy bears around as they chased each other in the sun; mothers tearfully hugging their sons and daughters while the fathers looked on, visibly puffed up with pride. But even though he was the valedictorian, the man of the day, Frederick had none of these people there to receive him. There was only one person waiting there to greet him as family, and she was Anne Elliot. Yet with the pride and joy radiating from her as she stood there to meet him, it didn't matter so much anymore that his parents, sister and brother weren't there to see him on this occasion. Her support more than compensated for all of them, because Anne wasn't just a fleeting presence on this day; she was a constant presence in his life. Without her, he knew, he might have still achieved his goal at large; but he couldn't have reached this particular pinnacle where he now stood if she hadn't been there, believing in him, challenging him, pushing him all the way. In his heart, when he'd said the thank-you in his speech, he'd been speaking only to her.

That was just one of the many things that Frederick and Anne had in common - his siblings couldn't come, and her family wouldn't come. Grandma Stevenson had considered it, but she'd said that at her age, she was too frail to make the journey alone; and Mary, the only Elliot who'd offered to accompany her, was deemed by Walter to be too young and immature to look after Grandma by herself. The entire clan of Musgroves, of course, was busy celebrating Charles' graduation day at the other end of the country. So at this moment, this day when they were commemorating the greatest achievement of their academic lives, Anne and Frederick had only each other in the place of their respective families to celebrate the moment with. In fact, Frederick thought, they were already closer than family after the way they'd shared their lives throughout their college years, and it would only take one little formality to make it all official.

He made a beeline straight for Anne and swept her up off the ground into his arms, flattening the scroll he still held in his hand.

"Marry me?" he said into her ear. This was exactly the opposite of his original intent to not propose yet; but at the spur of the moment, he was suddenly overcome by the urgency to plug that one tiny gap that stood between him and Anne becoming family for real.

"Yes, of course, yes!" Anne flung her arms around his neck and fairly shrieked the words. They whirled around and around, the colors of summer spinning around them faster and faster, mirroring the kaleidoscope of their emotions.

Finally, they got too dizzy to whirl around anymore, and they flopped down side by side on the grass.

"Well done," Anne said dryly. "MIT people are known for thinking with their heads, but you captured the hearts of many people today. Congratulations, Frederick."

And although she put on the perfect deadpan expression as she said it, her words still made him melt inside anyway.

Normally, Frederick almost never thought about the fact that he was named after several lines of royalty: most notably, the Prussian kings of yore and the Danish royal line that continues to this day. But on the 2nd of June 2000, he couldn't have been more ecstatic if someone put a crown on his head and sat him on a throne. Within just one day, he'd donned a gown and mortarboard, and pinned the gold bar of a 2nd Lieutenant to his uniform. Yet the crowning glory of that day didn't come with any costume, insignia or accessory. No physical adornments were necessary when a simple verbal promise, uttered with the utmost sincerity, was enough. Over and above the other glories of that day, the very best part of it all was that when he left MIT for good that Sunday, he would indeed be taking a piece of Anne with him after all. He was now officially the fiancé of Anne Elliot.

Chapter 11 - Game Plan

"Lieutenant Wentworth."

"Yes, ma'am?" Frederick raised his hand in a mock salute.

"You have a grand total of 24 hours to enjoy MIT and Cambridge before you fly off tomorrow. What would you like to do?"

This day was like an intermezzo, a link between their two lives: the college days they were leaving behind, and the adult world that lay ahead of them. They spent the day visiting all their favorite landmarks on campus and in town, ending off with a final run, which eventually trickled into a stroll, along the Charles River.

"I've got it." This time, it was Frederick who had the idea.

"Got what?"

"We'll make it a fait accompli. That way, your folks can't say anything or do anything to stop us. When we go to see them, we'll already be wearing our wedding rings. Let's do it next year, after I graduate from my UPT. That way, we'll both be able to show them. I'll be a full-fledged pilot, and you'll have your job at Boeing. They can pour as much cold water as they want, but it won't make one bit of difference when we're able to stand on our own."

"Why not? That's a pretty good idea. But how about making it two years? Like you said, we've got to show them. And somehow, I feel safer if I had the chance to build up my career somehow first, just to have something to fall back on. I don't want to give Liz, or Father, the last laugh by having them jibe at me for being a housewife, living off you on base. I don't mind that kind of life at all - in fact, nothing could make me happier in the long run. But in the short term, I still need to earn the right to my life with you, by proving my ability to survive on my own without depending on my family or leeching off you. It's very important to me, maybe even more so because no Elliot in this generation has made it outside the family business.

"Tell you what - one year from now, we'll get together and announce our engagement to both our families. Then, we'll have one full year to prepare after that, and we can have a more proper wedding. I want us to be respectably married, not just running off together into the night. If we prove that we're stable and have a good future ahead of us, I'm pretty sure I can talk some of my folks around to supporting us - Grandma, and maybe Mary. Besides, I'm sure your family and our friends will also want to be there with us on our big day."

"Well, I did think a lot before I asked, about whether I was asking too early. Or too late, actually. If I'd asked much earlier, maybe we'd be married by now and I'd be bringing you on base with me."

"Not on your life, you won't. Just concentrate on getting those wings, and as for the other stuff, we'll sort it out when we've established ourselves. We've got our game plan, and that's good enough for now. Deal?"
"Deal. Are you going to suggest we spit in our hands and shake on it?"

"No way, Jose. That stuff's for kids. Since we've graduated now, surely we qualify as adults, don't we?" Besides, Anne thought, they'd been holding hands all this while, and spitting to seal a pact had to be one of the dumbest reasons to let go.

It wasn't a teary farewell, even though deep down inside, Anne felt that way. For Frederick's sake, she pasted a peppy smile on her face as she waved him off at Boston Logan Airport; after all, she wanted him to start his Air Force career on an upbeat note.

They had time for one last, long embrace after he checked in, and then Anne hollered redundantly, "You'll write and call me, willya?" as Frederick walked through the security gantry.

Frederick hadn't left much behind for Anne to clear on his behalf. Over the past few months, he'd dutifully sorted out what he wanted to throw out or ship to Sophia, so the Pontiac was the only thing remaining for Anne to deal with.

"Just junk it", he'd told Anne. "I won't need a car in the foreseeable future, and by the time I do need one, I'll be earning enough to afford something better. Besides, after you move in with me, you could be my chauffeur."

But when Anne looked at the bumper sticker she'd given him so many years ago, still able to make out the words though it was now streaked and peeling, she just couldn't do it. She'd drop her own car off at the Elliots', and ship the Pontiac to Everett for her to drive there instead.

Anne made one last visit to the Elliot home before moving to Everett; going back to say goodbye seemed like the respectful thing to do.

When she'd gotten the job at Boeing, she'd already informed Walter and Grandma via e-mail, so none of it was a shock to anybody. Walter took it surprisingly benignly; after all, she was "only Anne" to him; and after so many years of her not being around, he'd grown quite indifferent to her comings and goings, as long as the Elliot reputation remained intact.

"Well, Anne. You'll be representing the Elliot name, so be sure you don't do anything to disgrace us while you're over there. And now that you've graduated, all the more you've got to start paying some attention to your attire and comportment. That hairstyle and dress of yours is completely not befitting of an Elliot woman. You should talk to Elizabeth - I'm sure she'll be happy to give you some advice about that."

Mary was the biggest surprise of all. Anne couldn't imagine that of all the people at home, Mary would actually miss her. But fresh out of boarding school and facing the prospect of attending community college from home in the fall, Mary was sorely in need of someone to be her friend.

"Anne, I wish you weren't going to work so far away. It's lonely here, and I need you. Can't you come home soon?"

"You'll be fine, Mary. You've been fine for eight years now while I was at high school and college, haven't you?"

"It's different. At school, I had friends, but now everyone's going to different colleges and it totally sucks, being stuck here at home. You know how much of a pain Liz can be. Nobody's ever as nice to me as you. And before you went to college, you used to come home all the time for weekends and holidays. But now you're going off to work and you won't be coming back again, ever. Without you around, there'll be nobody around here for me to talk to."

"Don't be silly. I'll still come back to visit from time to time. Family will always be family."

So in the end, the family member who disapproved the most of Anne's decision to get a job outside the Elliot family was Grandma.

"Anne, do you remember what I said about coming back to ELMSCO? You young people are always talking about seeing the world, but it'll be just a matter of time before you find out that there's no place like home. You don't know it now, but nobody outside will treat you as well as you'll be treated at ELMSCO, because they won't recognize you for being an Elliot daughter elsewhere, not the way we would."

"Grandma, I don't need anyone to recognize me for being an Elliot daughter. The world works based on ability nowadays, and if I can't prove myself to be capable, I'm perfectly fine with accepting the consequences. That's only fair."

"That's what you think now, you're young and idealistic. A few years down the road, you'll realize what you're giving up. You were born with an advantage in life, and yet you don't want to make use of it. How do you think you can compete with all the others who've made full use of what they've got?"

"I don't need to earn that much money. Just enough to live on will be fine. In fact, I'm happier with a simple lifestyle. That's what I found out these past four years in college. What's more important to me is that I'm doing something I like, something which excites me. All the money and promotions in the world won't give me any satisfaction if I'm bored stiff with my job every day."

"Mark my words, you'll come back to your roots sooner or later. Everyone does."

Everett didn't disappoint - it was the closest Anne could get to an extension of her college life at MIT. Lorin had gotten a job at Boeing, too, and they were sharing an apartment. As entry-level engineers, their work was comparatively menial, consisting mainly of collecting and analyzing data; but the community more than made up for it. Being able to get to know other young people fresh out of college, all sharing the same interest in aviation and all having the same energy and zest for life, that was the best part of it all. They had parties, they spent weekends exploring Seattle and its environs, and in general, they worked hard but played just as hard.

During her time in Everett, Anne got invited on dates by a fair number of her male colleagues as well; after all, women engineers still weren't all that common, and Anne was actually a very attractive girl in her own right. In the beginning, nobody believed her when she turned them all down on account of her engagement; after all, she never wore any ring. But as they got to know her better, the signs were obvious: the sacred time she kept every Saturday when nobody could touch her because it was when Frederick called; the graduation photo of the two of them which she brought with her everywhere she went; the collection of fighter aircraft posters which adorned the walls of her room; and that Pontiac she insisted on driving despite its completely disreputable condition.

If there had to be a break before the time she and Frederick could get back together again, Anne couldn't have thought of a better way to spend it than her stint at Boeing. She was more than just content; in fact, she was thriving.

Chapter 12 - Palliative Care

Posted on 2011-07-10

January 2001, Everett, Washington

"Stage 4 adenocarcinoma … palliative care recommended …"

It had all started with a simple dentist's visit, apparently. They'd found a growth in Grandma's jaw, and after a battery of medical tests, the report was out. Nobody at home understood any of it; not even Mary with her habit of Googling every little symptom she thought she had. Of course - despite all her hypochondria, Mary was still at the age where she believed herself to be practically immortal, so she'd never be morbid enough to fancy herself to be dying of cancer. How Mary expected Anne to be able to translate the medical-ese was beyond her, but in any case, it was enough that Anne understood the two most important words in the report: "Palliative Care."

For as long as Anne had understood the meaning of life and death, she had dreaded this day. As a little girl, she used to make Grandma promise that she'd live to be 100 years old. Every time she saw senior citizens in wheelchairs on the street, she'd give thanks that Grandma was sprightly, healthy and young for her age. Grandma was the one family member she loved and respected the most, so naturally she wanted to hold on to Grandma for as long as possible. She was determined that it wouldn't be so easy to seal Grandma's fate with just that one report. It couldn't be.

Within days, Anne booked her flight to Detroit, taking three days' vacation from work to go home and investigate the situation. After she'd talked to the doctors at the local hospital where the tests were done, her conclusion was that the situation was not that good, but not totally bad either: the cancer had started in the lung and spread to the jaw, but both tumors were relatively small and the good news was that the cancer was believed to be slow-growing. Cancer is an ambiguous disease, Anne told herself. Nobody can ever tell you how much time you've got left because everyone is different. And so even though the official prognosis was six months, Anne believed there had to be more hope than that, if only she could wipe out those two fateful words: "Palliative Care." She hated the finality of those words.

There was one certainty, though: Anne knew that she would have to move home. Hope didn't create itself; it had to be built through careful research and action. Even if the others had gotten more involved, Anne would still have wanted to take the lead because of how much Grandma meant to her; but now that it was clear nobody really knew what to do, it was even more imperative that she should take on the main role as a caregiver and advocate for Grandma. Actually at 22, Anne had no more idea of what to do than Walter, or Elizabeth, or Mary; but where she lacked in experience, she more than made up for it in will. The only way to move ahead was to do whatever appeared like a no-brainer, and just build up from there, one step at a time.

The first no-brainer to Anne was to tender her resignation once she returned to Everett. Boeing didn't have a major operation in Michigan, so even though Anne hadn't figured out whether she'd be able to work or not after she moved home, it was pretty clear that she couldn't stay with Boeing. Anne found it hard to believe that after six short months, she was walking away from her dream of a lifetime to face the nightmare of her lifetime; yet, she supposed, having just those six months of her dream job at Boeing were better than not having had it at all.

With the whirlwind of activity she faced - the administrative work of tendering her resignation, handing her work over to her colleagues, packing her belongings, and managing the other logistics of her relocation home - Anne had hardly any time to think about Frederick at all for the first week after she got the news. It wasn't until Frederick called her over the weekend that she realized how delinquent she'd become in her communications to him, wrapped up as she was in this unfamiliar new world.

"Hey, stranger. What's up? I haven't gotten any email from you all week, baby."

"Nothing. I'm just busy at work, I guess." Somehow, Anne couldn't bring herself to talk about it over the phone like that, even if it was Frederick she was talking to. Everything still seemed so unreal to her. Up until then, she had never actually uttered the words "my grandma has cancer"; if she didn't say it out loud, she could still make herself believe that everything could go away, but if she said the words, it would become more real than ever. With her boss and colleagues, she'd used vague terms like "my grandma is ill", or "my grandma's health isn't so good anymore", but with Frederick it was different. She had to either tell him all, or tell him nothing.

"Everything OK? You sound kind of down, if I may say so."

"Yeah," Anne wished there was a playbook for life, especially life after cancer. Something, or somebody, to tell her how to navigate all the uncharted territory she was facing, like how to tell her absent fiancé that her entire life plan and priorities had changed literally overnight. But there wasn't, and so Anne was left with only her instinct. At this time, her instinct was to choose flight, rather than fight. "I'm just tired, I guess. There's this urgent project at work, and I've been pulling all-nighters the whole week to get it done. I'm sorry about being so tied up. Talk to you more next weekend? I guess I'll have more sanity time after this whole project is finished." She was making it up as she went along, but at least she could buy some time to think.

"OK then, I won't take up your time. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

To tell, or not to tell? When to tell? The questions haunted Anne like a shadow, clinging to her day and night. Writing about it in an email was the first option Anne eliminated - by now, she knew just how tough military pilot training could be, and springing this type of news on Frederick after a long day of training and study would be tantamount to planting a bomb in his inbox. That left the phone, and face-to-face communications. Anne tried to visualize his reaction if she were to show up at base to tell him - which was out of the question anyway because she'd have too many things to do when she got home to afford the time for such travel. Just imagining his shock was enough for Anne to throw out the entire idea of telling him now. In the middle of pilot training, he didn't need this kind of problem to distract him; especially when there was nothing concrete he could do to help her as long as he was still stuck there on base. She'd tell him when they were next planning to get together, at the end of summer after he completed his training. It would probably be easier to tell him then, too, when she had a better idea what lay ahead for her. For us, Anne hastily amended in her mind.

Us. Ever since the cancer diagnosis, the word "us" in Anne's vocabulary had become synonymous with her and Grandma; or perhaps if she wanted to generously expand the meaning, it could refer to the Elliot family at large. Her priority now was to bring the Elliots to band together against the dreaded disease, like gathering a football team in a huddle before they faced an unknown opponent. In this jigsaw, Anne just couldn't see where Frederick would fit. It was an unsolvable puzzle that constantly played in her head, but since she had to focus on the immediate action items to be done, she used all her effort to keep pushing it to the back of her mind every time it surfaced.

The day she had to tell Lorin, Anne still couldn't find the wherewithal to string the words "Grandma" and "cancer" into the same sentence. Mutely, she handed Lorin the printed medical report. The clothes, books, and other personal items piled up in their living room, waiting to be placed into packing boxes, stood as silent witnesses to Anne's impending departure.

"I've booked my air ticket to Detroit already, and I'll be flying off in a week. The stuff I'm bringing with me will be just whatever I'll need on an immediate basis. As for the rest of my things, it'd be great if you could help me to arrange for shipping, and for my car to be transported back as well. Just tell me how much it costs, and I'll pay you back pronto. Please?

"And one more thing. Please. Don't. Tell. Fred."

"Of course not! That's for you to tell him - in fact, I can't imagine for the life of me why you haven't told him already."

"How could I? What can he do, even if I told him? He can't come, that's for sure. I can't ask him to abandon his UPT. And if he knew, it'd drive him crazy thinking about it, on top of all the studying and other stuff he has to do already. It wouldn't be fair to him. As far as this is concerned, I've made up my mind - I won't tell him until after UPT is done. That way, he can focus on his training with complete peace of mind."

"Anne, do you really think Fred will have more peace of mind if you wait till summer to tell him? Just imagine - it's the biggest thing in your life right now, and he finds out you went on for more than half a year without telling him. If you were in his shoes, would you be happy with that? Fred has stood by you for four years now. He'd want to stand by you when you're going through the biggest challenge of your life."

"That's exactly it. If I told him, he'd want to stand by me, but I'm not sure that would be good for him, or for us. You know how my whole family feels about Fred, Grandma included. If Fred shows up in Detroit, it won't do anybody at home any good. It'd kill Grandma. And what would it do to Fred? Or for that matter, to Fred's plans to become a fighter pilot? He's already so close to getting there, and I can't ask him to throw it all away for me. It's not a good idea. Really."

"You're treating Fred like a baby. Come on, he's a grown man - and he has to be one heck of a hero to handle all the crap of military life. He can make his own decisions. Tell him - he can handle it."

"No, and I mean no. I can't solve this problem, and I don't have time to solve this problem. I just need more time to think."

"Well, if you wish. But if you ask me, I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life."

Battling the two words "Palliative Care" took up all of Anne's time and energy once she touched down in Detroit. She made her rounds of hospitals - not just limiting herself to hospitals within Michigan, but also making the rounds of Memorial Sloan-Kettering, the Mayo Clinic, and MD Anderson Cancer Center, to get second, third, fourth, fifth opinions. What she was after was a treatment plan that didn't have the word "palliative" in it; someplace which would be willing to give treatment that could keep the cancer somewhat at bay. No matter how many people told Anne that the realistic goal would be to control rather than to cure the cancer, and that palliative therapy aimed to do just that, somehow Anne felt better if they just didn't use the word "palliative" altogether.

Meanwhile, Anne made sure to keep up with her schedule of emails and phone calls with Frederick. Luckily for her, he always called her cell phone, so she didn't have to explain a change of phone number to him. Somewhere along the way, she fell into a pattern of fielding his questions about her life with vague answers, and encouraging him as far as possible to continue jabbering on about life on base so that she didn't have to talk too much. Like an automaton, she went through the motions time after time, until one time she found herself nodding like a china doll, not even realizing that Frederick couldn't see her and couldn't hear her on the other side of the line.

"Anne? Are you listening?"

Anne returned with a jolt to the conversation and tried to pay attention. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Frederick; rather, she was too caught up in her own world, the cancer world which she refused to share with him, to really engage in what he was saying. Their college days and aviation dreams seemed like a childhood fantasy long past; while in the present, Anne found it hard to fathom that she was still only 22 years old. To her, 22 years old felt too young to have to deal with problems as big as this.

Anne's current world consisted entirely of tumor markers, radiotherapy, chemotherapy, side effects, and a whole slew of drugs and dosages to remember. For the most part, The Elliots vs. Cancer was a battle fought by an army of two, though Anne also shamelessly capitalized on Walter's name to gain access to top specialists when she needed it. Eventually, they settled on MD Anderson; it seemed strangely ironic that she was physically nearer to Frederick than she'd been in months, yet she couldn't be farther away from him in spirit.

And she had to figure out what to do with the Pontiac, too. Like all the other issues pertaining to Frederick, she found someplace safe to stash it away, waiting for her to have the time and energy to think about it again.

Chapter 13 - Track 2

July 2001, Grosse Pointe, Michigan

Six months later, Anne still didn't have any answers about where Frederick fit into her new life. A regimen of radiotherapy and chemotherapy at MD Anderson had succeeded in bringing down Grandma's tumor markers, and they'd decided to continue whatever maintenance therapy that might be needed at home. It suited Grandma to be near the family, and it suited Anne because she could start thinking about getting a job again. She got Walter to hire a housekeeper, Rosa, to help with the day-to-day caregiving, so that she could return to full-time work; persuading him wasn't that difficult when having more hired help also boosted the Elliot pride. And working was the one thing Anne dug her heels in about, as far as her family was concerned. It was all that was left of her hopes and dreams from college.

Anne was lucky that Northwest Airlines' hub was in Detroit; she could get an aviation-related job and continue living with Grandma, even if it wasn't potentially as exciting as what she could do in Boeing. At her level, it didn't make that much difference; if she really wanted to get involved in the heart of research work at Boeing, she'd eventually have to get a graduate degree and clock in many more years of experience, and none of that seemed likely anyway if she married Frederick, assuming he stayed in the Air Force.

All the practical tasks that needed to be done left Anne with very little time to think, but at night, after Grandma went to bed and she had completed everything for the day, sometimes she'd write down everything she wanted to tell Frederick but couldn't say. She'd imagine she was writing to him, and then staple it into her journal or send it to Lorin instead.

Watching tumor markers is like watching the tide - it goes up and down, and all the books and blogs I read tell me it'll become like a riptide in the end, taking on a life of its own with no way to stop it. But now that the tide is ebbing low and lower, I can believe how things can go on this way. After all, there may be many cases I read where someone lives for three, or six, or nine months, but there are also a fair number of people who live two years, five years, even ten years. The medical report said six months, but now it's been six months already and Grandma is still with us, walking, eating, and going out. Chemo has been kind to her, I guess. So what's there to say it can't go on like this for years?

The thing is, no matter how many years it is, it's still never enough once you know for sure it'll end someday. When I'm waiting in the hospital, sometimes the only thing I can think about is when I can go back to enjoying the wider world outside. But at the same time, I don't want time to pass. I want the time to last forever, so Grandma can be with us forever. When I just can't take it anymore, sometimes it helps to just read, or daydream, so I can be somewhere else. It's so boring when time stands still, but if I do anything at all, the day will pass so quickly, and then there's one day less left. I don't know how long more I can carry on like this.

As she wrote, Anne felt the enormity of the Hobson's choice she faced squarely on her shoulders. She didn't want time to pass, and didn't want things to change. Yet if she was to stay with Frederick, surely something would have to change - either he'd have to leave the Air Force, or she wouldn't be able to stay with her family and Grandma. The third possibility was too unthinkable for her at this point; the best case would be to reverse the illness, but since the illness couldn't be reversed, the status quo was the best outcome, the only outcome she could possibly hope for. It was a choice she wished she didn't have to make; in fact, it was a choice she wished nobody else would ever have to make either. But in the end, the Hobson's choice was no choice at all; when facing something as final as death, there was never a way that anything else could possibly win out.

In Anne's imagination, she and Frederick would go their separate ways amicably. He'd understand that everything was for the best, for both of them - he could continue to live a pilot's life without anything else to tie him down, and she wouldn't be stuck in this limbo where she wished Grandma could carry on forever, while at the same time keeping her hopes hinged on a future that didn't include Grandma in the picture. He'd wish her well, and she'd wish him well, and then they'd both move on with their respective lives but remain as friends. She didn't talk to anybody, not even Lorin, about her plan; and as long as nobody gave her a reality check, she was able to keep churning the scenario in her mind, letting it get more real every time she imagined it.

As her farewell present to Frederick, Anne bought the single of "Learning to Fly"; it was the song that had started everything, so it seemed like an appropriate gesture to end things with the same song, as a memento of their time together. The single came packaged together as two songs: "Learning to Fly", and "One Slip". Anne didn't think much of the connotations at the time, though; in her mind, she knew she had no choice but to split with Frederick, and she had fully convinced herself that Frederick would understand that she always had his best interests at heart.

August 2001, Detroit, Michigan

Frederick couldn't wait for the suspense to be over, so he could settle that funny feeling that was starting to well up in the pit of his stomach. Over the past months, he'd sensed that something wasn't right with Anne - she'd been saying less and less in their emails and phone calls, and whatever she said was so vague that he hardly knew what she was really doing with her life anymore. A small part of him worried that Anne was getting more and more distant from him, but his confident, sanguine self took over and told him he was worrying too much; that everything would be all right once they got together and formalized their engagement. After all, Anne was keeping their appointment for the weekend, wasn't she?

He fingered the ring he was keeping in his pocket, the one he'd quickly popped into an airport jewelry shop to buy. It wasn't as fancy a ring as he could've gotten if he'd waited till he had more time to shop properly in downtown Detroit over the weekend with Anne, as they'd planned; but he was anxious to have a proper token to mark their formal engagement. At least it made things feel a little more certain to him, to counter the tiny doubts that had started creeping into his consciousness from time to time.

Their plan for that weekend was to stay in a hotel in Detroit, to make it easier for both of them to travel up to Grosse Pointe to meet Anne's family. Anne was supposed to check in first so that when he got there, she'd be waiting for him.

Indeed, Anne was there to meet him at the door; but instead of the happy reunion he'd pictured, she looked utterly miserable and dejected. Something definitely wasn't right, and there was no way he could possibly deny it to himself any longer.

"Anne, is something wrong?"

Yes, thought Anne as she held her chin up defiantly. She wished things could be different, that she could simply launch herself at Frederick and let him comfort her, and leave it to him to think of a solution to the entire problem. But that wasn't what she was here for.

"I need to tell you something." She felt like she had to speak faster and faster, before she lost the ability to get the words out. "I've moved home to Grosse Pointe, back with my family."

The shock of this revelation left Frederick totally dumbfounded. Hadn't Anne been working so hard, even prolonging their engagement, precisely because she wanted to be independent from her family? An Anne who'd go running back to her family, tail between legs, after trying out working life for barely a year was entirely alien to him; over the nearly five years he'd known her, he'd thought her to be made of sterner stuff than that.

"My grandma has cancer," Anne carried on explaining. She'd had to say that sentence many times in the past eight months, but this time was the hardest of all. "It's Stage 4. The diagnosis came in January, and I moved back home in February. We've seen her through chemo and radiation, and things are stable now, thankfully. But I'm going to carry on staying here to look after her. I've quit my job at Boeing to do just that.

"And I hope we can still be friends. Congrats again on graduating from UPT - I know you'll really enjoy life as a pilot, and I guess - I guess I wish you well." She pushed past him, across the threshold.

"Friends? What on earth do you mean, friends? I thought when we promised each other, on commencement day - we're more than just friends, and you know it. And now, you're saying you want to be just friends? I thought I meant more to you than that."

"You do. You always will." In all the scenarios Anne had played in her mind, which actually converged to just one scenario, really - an angry Frederick had never figured. But she was determined to ride through this situation with dignity. "I thought you would understand, though. For as long as I have to look after Grandma, my obligations are here, and there's no way I can possibly join you on base. I'm not going to ask you to quit the Air Force, and I don't think you want to quit the Air Force either. It'd be a total waste of all the effort you put into getting your wings. So, there's no way we could possibly be together, and the best I can do for you is to let you go ahead with your plans. And we'll always be friends."

"Didn't you think those promises you made mean something more than that? If you're willing to wait, I'm willing to wait too. It's as simple as that. Is what we have so flimsy to you that you won't even wait for us to be together?"

"Wait? For what?" Anne knew what he was going to say, but she'd still force it out of him anyway.

"Come on. Knock it off. You know there's nothing stopping us from being together after your grandma passes, and that's going to happen sooner or later anyway. You mean enough to me, that I don't mind waiting for us to be together. But what the hell do I mean to you, if you can let go of me as easily as that? We might not even need to wait that long after all - she's what, 70 years old - and she's got cancer -"

"No!" Anne cut in. "That's not what I want at all, and that goes to show you have absolutely no idea what I really want. It's going to be many years, maybe forever, and that's what I really want, OK? I want it to be forever. For your information, she's 80 years old, actually, but that doesn't mean you can slap a death sentence on her just like that. Frederick Wentworth, I'm sick and tired of hearing that from everybody, and I thought you, of all people, would know better than that. Anyway, this is for you. I wish you the best of luck." She thrust the gift-wrapped CD into his hand and marched off, walking out of his life, before he could even think of a reply.

Frederick had no idea how long he remained frozen there in the doorway until his brain started processing information again, and realization washed over him in waves.

Anne had moved home; in fact, she'd moved home more than half a year ago and hadn't told him anything about it until now. That had to be the realization which hurt the most of all - they were engaged, and by right that should mean he'd be the first one to know about anything that major in her life. Yet it turned out to be exactly the opposite; all this time, she'd been actively hiding it from him. That explained why she'd been getting more and more vague and evasive over the phone. He wondered when he'd been bumped so far down the food chain of her acquaintances, that after all this time he was probably the last person to know about her move back to Grosse Pointe.

Anne's grandma had cancer, in fact, she was probably dying of cancer. Frederick's concept of cancer was based on the time when his mom had been going through it, and he'd been too young then to really appreciate the daily dance of hope, fear and dread that every cancer caregiver goes through. He only knew the sense of doom and gloom hanging over the household, and his constantly pressing need to escape from it. So although it did register with him that Anne was most likely very distraught and miserable, what he didn't get was that the element of hope was very real to Anne at that point. Based on his family's experience, Stage 4 meant things would move on very fast; to him, Anne's denial seemed like a willful rejection of reality.

All that said, Anne was probably feeling really, really lousy, and he'd said nothing at all to comfort her. Frederick's mind switched to an alternate reality, one where Anne would confide all to him, and he'd hold and comfort her. Then they'd both band together to face the future, even if it wasn't the same future that they'd planned a year ago. If his mouth hadn't worked faster than his brain, maybe that reality may have played out, instead of the current stalemate they were in. But then for that to happen, he and Anne needed to be on the same side; and he wasn't so sure she was on the same side as him anymore.

As Anne walked away from the door, she kept her back resolutely turned towards Frederick so he wouldn't see the rivulets of tears running down her face. Once she was out on the street, she walked on and on for what seemed like miles without looking back, determined that she'd get as far away as possible so Frederick wouldn't find her. Finally, she found a park bench and slumped onto it, and that was when she finally allowed herself to let go.

She stayed there for two whole hours, immobilized by grief, mourning the loss of the entire life she'd worked so hard to build up: not just her relationship with Frederick, but everything else that came with it - her dreams, her independence, her freedom. Apart from the one fragment of passion she'd retained through her job with Northwest, nothing now remained of the Anne Elliot in MIT. The old Anne had believed she'd have plenty of opportunities to see the world and chase her dreams, but this new Anne would have to give up everything in order to devote herself to the family. But she couldn't complain; everything was a matter of fate and timing, and nobody could have predicted or prevented the diagnosis from happening so soon after her college graduation.

As the sky darkened, she slowly got up and squared her shoulders. It was getting late, and Grandma would be wondering where she was before long, if not already. Now that she had made her choice clear and fully resigned herself to it, the walk back to her car was measured and deliberate. She was no longer in flight, now that she had followed-through with her resolution to see through the obligations she'd put upon herself. From then on, she'd devote every fiber of her being to Grandma's needs, and nothing else.

Meanwhile, Frederick was pondering whether he should look for Anne, to try to talk to her and get through to her again; and to take back those hurtful things he'd said to her without thinking. But Anne had never told him her exact address in Grosse Pointe; it hadn't seemed necessary when she'd be going with him when they went to meet her family. If he wanted to seek her out, he'd have to look for Walter Elliot in the telephone book, or even go asking around from door to door. And if after all that effort, he ended up knocking on Walter's door only to be disparaged and insulted by Anne's family on their doorstep, Frederick didn't think he'd be able to take it. Calling Anne wouldn't help either, if she took the call in front of her family; he also couldn't stand the thought of them sniping and sniggering as they listened to her side of the conversation.

He opened the gift, thinking he might be able to find some clues in whatever she'd given to him. It was the CD single of "Learning to Fly", and even though he knew the song almost by heart by now, he still played it hoping he could get some kind of inspiration on what to do next.

The CD had two tracks, and after the familiar song ended, there was another song, something which he'd never really noticed before. But as it played, the chorus stuck in his head:

One slip, and down the hole we fall
It seems to take no time at all
A momentary lapse of reason
That binds a life to a life
A small regret, you won't forget
There'll be no sleep in here tonight

A momentary lapse of reason. He'd been prepared to commit his entire life to her, and now, she'd reduced their entire time together - when they'd been practically the most important people in each other's lives, for God's sake - down to just that. So their relationship had been the Track 1 in the CD, and now they were in Track 2, where she was telling him it was all a big mistake. Frederick's imagination now readily supplied all the details that were missing in this puzzle: he could picture how her family must have worked on her, convincing her of all the disadvantages of their relationship. They'd probably told her how he'd never be able to provide for her well enough to meet the Elliot standards; that she could do much better for herself if she married someone with money and connections instead. Maybe there was even some such person in her life already. None of it was true, and in fact the inclusion of that song had been completely unintentional; but he couldn't possibly know that without talking to Anne, and he wasn't talking to her.

Frederick Wentworth, you sorry sod. That little voice used to play in his head when he was much younger, when his harried family members used to say, "Why can't you sit still and be quiet like Ed?" or "Why won't you just go and study, instead of rambling all over the streets and making us worry?" or "Can't you find something useful to do with your time?" all the time. From the day he'd decided to work towards becoming a fighter pilot, that voice had fallen silent and never surfaced again. Until now, that was.

Frederick Wentworth, you sorry sod, the voice said. You thought you were such a smart dude, but now you've been played through and through, by a girl no less. You've been tying all your hopes to Anne Elliot all this time, and now you finally find out she's edited you out of her life long ago. When that happened, you didn't even know. That's how stupid you really are.

Disclaimer: "One Slip" belongs to Pink Floyd.

Chapter 14 - The Days the Music Died

Posted on 2011-07-14

September 2001

The events of September 11, 2001 were the greatest tragedy of a lifetime for many in America and around the world. Though Anne appreciated how fortunate her family was to be relatively untouched by the disaster, it nonetheless felt as if the last bastion of her safe, secure childhood and youth had fallen. Nothing was safe or permanent anymore; the days when she used to believe she could explore the world without abandon were even farther away. And the chips hadn't all fallen yet, though Anne didn't quite know it at the time.

Before Grandma's illness, Anne would never have been included in the Elliots' meetings with their financial planner, Mr. Shepherd. But now that she attended these meetings as Grandma's escort, Anne was exposed to several hard truths about the state of the Elliot family's business and finances for the first time.

"Mr. Elliot, you know the Big Three automakers have been struggling for several years by now. All along, ELMSCO's business has been strongly dependent - too dependent, if I may say so - on big auto in Detroit, and ELMSCO hasn't turned a single profit since 1998. With the current downslide in auto demand, it's even less likely that ELMSCO's business can recover anytime soon; in fact, we'll be very lucky if the losses don't blow up even further.

"This is going to have a very strong impact on your personal investment portfolio, especially since a large portion of your finances are tied up in ELMSCO. It's highly unlikely that ELMSCO will be paying any dividends this year, and at the rate the Elliot family expenses are growing, you will fall into debt within the next 12 months if you don't start looking for new sources of income. Like employment income, for example." Mr. Shepherd looked directly at Elizabeth when he said that, but she met his pointed glance without flinching at all. "I also strongly suggest you start thinking of ways to keep your expenses in check."

"We do have some employment income," said Anne, gritting her teeth. "I work."

"Oh do you, doll? And who's the lucky soul you're working for, may I ask?" William Elliot eyed Anne up and down with a mocking look. The Elliots are not ELMSCO, and our family finances are none of his business, thought Anne, as she wondered why on earth her father favored their irritating cousin so much as to involve him in a matter as personal as this.

"Northwest Airlines." Anne gritted her teeth even more tightly.

"Well, isn't that cute. Flight attendants are getting younger and younger these days, aren't they? I could've sworn you were in seventh grade. Anyway, the airlines are getting it real bad after 9-11, and they'll probably be laying people off like crazy before the year is up. You better watch your job, darlin', before it flies away." William guffawed loudly at his supposed joke.

Nothing was new about the joke being on Anne, as always; but what was new about this time was that nobody laughed, not even Elizabeth. The situation facing the Elliot family was as grim as that.

Under Grandma's instructions, Anne drew up a list of proposed cutbacks for the Elliot family.

"I'm not long for this world," Grandma had said. "So I'll be counting on you to keep an eye on your father and sisters, next time when I'm not around. Just like your mother used to do. You're the only one in this family who's got your mother's sense."

1. Sell the cars - all of them, Anne wrote. That means the Cadillac Eldorado, the Lincoln Town Car, and the Chrysler 300M, as well as Mary's PT Cruiser and Liz's BMW Z3. Replace with one fuel-sipping car, such as Honda Civic or the like. My VW Golf turbodiesel has good fuel economy, so I'll share it with the family. Two cars for five people ought to be enough.

"Don't be naive, child," Grandma said. "We are in the auto business, after all, and we do business with all Big Three automakers. What would GM, or Chrysler, or Ford, think if your father went to meet them in a Honda Civic? You can account the cost to the family business, but we do need one car from each of the Big Three makes to meet clients with, as the bare minimum."

Since when did Father ever meet with clients, thought Anne. But Grandma had spoken, and she was all-powerful. So that item had to be struck off the list.

2. Do away with extraneous household staff. Rely on part-time maid service if necessary; and Rosa can manage both houses - Father's and Grandma's. It's possible, as long as housekeeping is kept to a minimum by everyone picking up after ourselves.

"That's not fair," said Elizabeth. "Why does Anne get to keep her housekeeper, when we have to give up our maids, our gardener and our chauffeur?"

"Right," Walter looked thoughtful. "Maybe Rosa could be the first to go, and Anne can stay at home to help instead. That'll improve our net financial position already."

"Rosa is Grandma's housekeeper, not mine." Of the many times Anne had to hold her ground against Walter, this was the first time she ever openly talked back to him. "So if you want to let her go, Father, you've got to talk to Grandma about that. And I'd like to think I have better long-term career prospects than a housekeeper."

In the end, Walter never spoke to Grandma about it, but that also meant they'd never let go of any of the other staff either.

3. All members of the Elliot family are to wear all their clothes for at least two seasons. That will immediately slash our clothing expenditure by half.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "Maybe that'll be OK for some people around here who have absolutely no sense of fashion whatsoever," she sneered. "But what will my friends think of me if they see me wearing last season's clothes?"

If they're your real friends, they'll respect you for your good sense, was the reply Anne would have loved to give. But in the Elliot household, such words would fall on deaf ears anyway, so she saved her breath.

And so the Elliots were all back to square one. Nobody could agree to any of the budget cuts, even though it was clear they couldn't continue living in the Grosse Pointe house without cutting back on something, and so there had to be a Plan B.

"Why don't you consider relocating?" Mr. Shepherd suggested. "If you move to a city apartment, you can enjoy a stylish urban lifestyle, without being saddled with the kind of expenses that come with maintaining a big house. Think of it as the modern, 'in' thing to do. And if you rent out the house, you'll be able to earn more income."

Elizabeth was the first to latch onto the idea. "Dad, why don't we look for some place with some decent shopping? Like New York, or maybe Chicago. Motor City is so boring."

Anne raised an eyebrow at Grandma across the room. That's not going to help at all, she was trying to say silently. You know they'll blow whatever's left of the family fortune at Saks Fifth Avenue or on Magnificent Mile.

Walter sighed. "There's something stately about living in a house. No apartment can ever be a match for that. We could rent a house - but definitely not anywhere in metro Detroit. What will the neighbors say if they saw us downsizing in our own backyard? It just won't do."

Mr. Shepherd cleared his throat. "I don't think moving into a house will - ahem - improve the financials by enough to make much of a difference. Maybe you could consider something else, though. How about getting a chic condo unit in Florida? It's the place for the fashionable retiree set, and you'll have plenty of lifestyle options to keep yourselves entertained. And you can upkeep your home easily without the need for full-time staff, which will keep your costs manageable."

"Florida it is." Anything that allowed him to downgrade while still breathing the word "status" was the best option as far as Walter was concerned. So, it didn't take him that long to decide.

"Well, I'm staying here," said Grandma. "I'm too old to move across the country, and besides, I want to live out the rest of my days at my old home. And Anne and I will manage quite acceptably on Anne's pay. Won't we, Anne?"

"Sure we will." Given the situation, staying put was the most appealing option to Anne, because at least she could keep her current job.

"If you're staying, I'm staying too," piped up Mary. "I don't wanna leave when I've just started to make new friends in college. It was hard enough leaving all my friends from high school behind, and I don't wanna move away and have to do all that again."

That was how the last chip finally fell - Walter and Elizabeth set up their "chic" lifestyle in Florida, while Mary joined Anne and Grandma at Grandma's house, and the big house in Grosse Pointe was rented out. But this time, Anne wasn't entirely sorry about how things turned out; at least, it gave her some breathing space and an excuse to distance herself from her father's and Elizabeth's lives. In fact, it was the only way she could do so.

"Anne, are you sure you won't consider working for ELMSCO instead? The company needs some Elliot blood in it to turn it around." Ever since their return from MD Anderson, Grandma had never stopped belaboring this issue to Anne.

"ELMSCO already has enough Elliot blood in it already," was Anne's irritable reply. "Cousin William's there, isn't he?"

"Oh, pfoo. That man's good for nothing. Look at what state he landed the company in. But if you go in, maybe you can turn things around."

"Not me," Anne insisted firmly. "I'm an engineer, a technical person. I don't have a shred of business sense in me, and I certainly don't see myself leading a company. I know what I'm good at and what I'm not. And this is definitely not something I can do, or want to do."

"Well, you'll never know until you try. And it won't hurt to try, would it?"

The same exchange played over and over, many times in the years they ended up living together. But Anne stood firm that she knew what was best for her: she was above all, an engineer; and her calling was in aviation. That was one thing which wouldn't change, no matter what happened to the Elliot family or to ELMSCO.

Try as he might, Frederick couldn't banish the thought of Anne Elliot from his mind. He worried about her, wondering how she was coping with her grandma's illness. He wondered if she might one day come to terms with the reality that her grandma's days were numbered, and if, when she came to that realization, she might regret pushing him away with such finality. There were so many questions on his mind with regards to Anne Elliot, and he thought he'd come up with a safe way to find out some of the answers, without putting all of his personal dignity on the line.

It was 3:30 a.m. Pacific Standard Time when Tom Harville woke to the sound of his ringing cell phone. "Darn," he mumbled under his breath, fumbling for the button to silence it, when he saw that the caller was Frederick Wentworth. Clearly, Wentworth had forgotten all about the two-hour time difference between Texas and Palmdale, California, where Tom was working with Lockheed Martin. Even then, it had to be something really important for Wentworth to call him first thing in the morning, and Wentworth's mornings were at an unearthly hour for him even if they'd been in the same time zone. Usually, Wentworth's communications with him were pretty much limited to popping up on ICQ every now and then when both of them happened to be free and online at the same time; long phone conversations just weren't the style for either of them.

"Hey, bud. I need you to do me a favor." Harville sensed the urgency in Wentworth's voice.

"Dude, you got any idea what time it is over here? It's practically in the middle of the night. OK, so shoot. It better be important, or else."

"You know that gig you've got to celebrate Halloween in San Francisco? When you're there, help me find out from the others about how Anne's doing, OK?"

"You mean, you and Anne, aren't you -" Harville trailed off in shock, realizing the implications of what Wentworth was saying.

"That's right. Anne and I aren't together anymore. She's moved back in with her family." Wentworth's words were terse, but Harville could sense how much the whole matter was bothering him; at the very least, the timing and urgency of Wentworth's call was an indication of that. At that moment, Harville couldn't have felt sorrier for his friend. Any other guy who'd been dumped without warning like that could afford to indulge in drink and wallow in misery for a while before facing the world again; but Wentworth was tied to a punishing schedule, without even the time or privacy to confide properly to his best friend. Just how heartbroken Wentworth was about the breakup could be only a matter of speculation, when not functioning was absolutely not an option for him.

"How on earth - Did she give you any reason at all?"

"She's gone back to look after her grandma, who's got cancer. I just want to know if she's coping OK, is all. But don't let anyone know I was the one who asked you to find out."

"I don't know about that. Won't it be better if she knows it's coming from you? At least she'll know you still care. And maybe that'll change her mind."

"I wish. But she's made it clear as day, man. She doesn't want me in her life anymore, and as long as it's that way, I'm not going begging after her to let me in. I'm not going to even think about seeing her or talking to her, until I know for sure she wants me in her life again. Otherwise, I'm staying out of it. No way will I be crawling on my hands and knees."

To Harville, it didn't seem as if Wentworth was actually going to stop thinking about Anne anytime soon. He was also a little skeptical that whatever had happened between Anne and Wentworth was as irreparable as Wentworth was making it out to be. But still, he'd do what Wentworth needed of him; he'd find out whatever he could about Anne, and keep Wentworth's name out of it. Protecting whatever was left of Wentworth's dignity was the least he could do for him as a friend. And if there was indeed any hope of salvaging the situation, he'd find out soon enough anyway.

"So I told you, it wasn't a mistake after all." The time difference actually worked in Anne's favor, since she could call Lorin after Grandma was asleep without it being too late on Lorin's side of the country. "With Father's company in the toilet, there really isn't any good I could possibly do to Fred by hanging on to him. He's better off free as he is now."

"Shouldn't Fred be the one making that decision, instead of you making it for him? I told you he wouldn't like it that you kept the most important decision of your life away from him for more than six months. You're not giving him a fair chance. Maybe he'll still think you're important enough to him to give up everything else - you never know."

"I know the answer to that already. He didn't argue, didn't say a word when I told him the reason why we can't be together is because he can't quit the Air Force. How long have I been in Fred's life - like, five years? But he's been having that dream for way, way longer than that.

"You know, Fred came from an upper middle class home in the beginning. He actually had a regular family, just like you or anyone else, only that he lost it all. And so even before he started trying for the Air Force, he's had an all-consuming dream driving him all this time, which is to get back into that life he had to leave when his parents passed. So when others look at him, they'll see him as an equal instead of as some poor kid they need to pity. At the level he's at now, I'd say he's already gotten past his circumstances. He's achieved as much, in fact way more, than kids who've grown up with more opportunities and resources in hand. Give him a few more years, and he'll probably climb so fast others can't help but envy him, in fact.

"And I, where am I now? Fred's moving upward, and I'm rolling downhill faster than you can say 'Jack and Jill'. Fred worked so hard to get himself to a level where he's getting what he wanted most all along - which is respect. It's so much more of a plus that he's gotten there doing something he absolutely loves. After all that, I'm not going to take him down the toilet with me; that's for sure."

Anne repeated the same process with her other girlfriends, Jenna and Nat. These three close girlfriends were the only people she ever told about her decision to move back home and break off with Frederick, and she swore all of them to absolute secrecy, based on the premise that Frederick was not to be tied down and burdened with her problems.

So under Anne's instruction, when the five classmates (sans Frederick and Anne) came together in San Francisco that Halloween to catch up on each others' lives one year after graduation, none of the girls breathed a word to Harville or Benwick about Anne and her family situation. And as a result, neither Frederick nor Anne could possibly know just how much they actually still wanted each other in their lives.

With the launch of the war in Afghanistan, it came as no surprise to Frederick when he finally was deployed to the Middle East. Since there was nobody to see him off, he made his farewells to Sophia, Edward, Harville and Benwick over the phone the night before he left, and then he was gone.

"If you find out anything about Anne, let me know," he'd expressly instructed Harville and Benwick. Over the years, the classmates continued to plan regular reunions, though these grew fewer and farther between as some of them got married and started their own families. Still, if two or more of them happened to be in the same city, they'd find time to meet and continue to catch up. The gatherings continued, and Benwick and Harville continued to fish subtly for information about Anne, but to no avail. They never saw or heard anything about her again, because Anne avoided all the gatherings and even though the girls knew, they weren't telling.

When Frederick was promoted to Captain three years later, one of the first thoughts that ran through his mind was that Anne would be very proud of him; at least until he remembered that the Anne he was thinking of didn't exist anymore. He sharply reminded himself that from the day she stepped out of his life, Anne had changed into someone he didn't know or recognize anymore, and there was no use clinging onto a phantom. He'd move on, and he wouldn't look back.

Chapter 15 - Jetrosexual Reprise

March 2008, Punta Gorda, Florida

"Write a letter to yourself." That was an assignment Anne had gotten at summer camp the year she was fourteen. The letter was supposed to be about a dream that was important to her, and they'd post it to her one year later as a reminder of that dream. At the time, just a few lines had been enough to do the job.

Dear Anne, everyone is telling you you're living in a sheltered bubble, so you must explore the world outside home. I believe you'll live to tell the tale, and to open this letter. Love, Anne Elliot

Now that she'd seen Frederick at the Air Show, the first time she'd had any contact with him in almost seven years, Anne felt the overwhelming urge to pen down the emotions spilling out of her. And so that night, alone in her hotel room, she wrote a letter to herself.

Dear Anne,

Today, I finally saw Frederick again. Who'd know it's been almost seven years by now? He looks exactly the same, if not even hotter than he used to be. Confidence is hot, you see, and he's got it in spades now. Not that he didn't have confidence and charisma last time when we were in college, but back then, he was still the wannabe who had yet to prove his worth to the world. You could still see the chinks where his insecurity showed from time to time. Like, for example, the careful sleight-of-hand he used to make sure everyone thought he was the coolest dude in the whole world. He'd never be caught dead studying in front of the guys in the frat house, or let anyone else know just how much sweat it cost him getting those A's in class, or his private pilot license, or his Air Force pilot slot. But now, it's all different - he's got no more reasons to be insecure because everybody looks up to him. For all those girls queuing for his signature today, he's got the stature of a Greek god, or a rock star. To them, he's Mr. Perfect, and if you didn't know him from Adam, there'd be no way to tell that he's been through so much difficulties when he was growing up. It's as if his past never existed at all; he could've been one of those perfect kids who led a charmed life from A to Z, and I'll bet that's what all those girls who were there today think he was. Well, I know better, but maybe since I'm not around to rat on his secret, he can finally erase the disadvantages of his past for good.

I wonder if Frederick's married, or going out with anybody now? I'm sure with all the female attention he's getting, it won't be difficult for him to move on, and he probably has. And if he's got somebody else, I don't even have the right to mind anymore; I gave that up way back in 2001 when I walked away from him. But I can't help wondering if whoever he's with is making him happier than when I was with him; if she's able to look after him and support him in the way I did, in the way I still want to. Well, that's going to continue to be a mystery, because there's no way I'm finding out. Lorin, Jen and Nat are keeping me posted of his comings and goings in the Air Force, at least as much as they can dig out of Tom or James when they meet, but every time, it's all about his work. It'd be presumptuous of me to start digging into his personal life, and even more so if I show up and re-introduce myself to him after so many years. He has a right to build a new life for himself, and even if I flattered myself to think he'd still care about me, even just a tiny smidgen, I can't just barge in like that. When you set somebody free, you've got to commit your whole heart and soul to it, otherwise you might as well not do it at all.

OK, I promise I won't do anything about it. But just allow me to have a few minutes to indulge myself, just to remember the past. To remember how Frederick used to slink around, easy as a cat. I always used to envy him, how gracefully he moves around when I'm such a total klutz. How I came to think his cheeky smile was the cutest thing in the whole world; I can't imagine that once upon a time, I actually found him irritating at first. I guess it's because before I knew better, I always thought he never took me seriously. Until I realized he actually took me more seriously than most of the people in my life, in fact. At least, he respected my opinions and treated me as an equal, which is more than I could say for Father, Liz, or even Mary or Grandma. He'd do anything to help me achieve my dreams, just as I'd do anything to help him achieve his. When he was around, I always felt like I mattered; whereas at home, I'm always on the sidelines, trying to stay out of the way. With Frederick, I was never in the way; in fact, he made it so clear he couldn't do without me, and in a good way, not the way Mary does. He gives and takes, but Mary takes way more than she gives - I guess that's the difference. To remember how both of us had so much fun playing sports or just enjoying the outdoors. I haven't played any sport in such a long time, ever since I moved back home, and I miss the high I get from running, from swimming, or from wading across a stream in just my Tevas and feeling the cool water on my toes. Those were the times when I really felt alive, and happy to be so.

Back in those times, we were both young and hungry, and I think that's what really brought us both together. We might've come from very different sides of the tracks just before we went into college, but at the end, we were both fighting the same kind of battle in a lot of ways. Both of us were battling the odds against society's expectations - that Frederick would end up amounting to nothing, and that I'd end up amounting to nothing outside my family. And to varying extents, I'd like to think both of us have succeeded. He's done so to a much greater extent than me, of course; but I still have my job at Northwest, I've been promoted twice, and I'm still financially independent of Father, so I suppose my MIT education isn't completely wasted after all.

Frederick never had any use for anyone in my family, and most of the time, it was actually because of me; he'd said he could never respect anyone who treated me like dirt the way they did. In fact, they still do, so just slap me right now for being so ungrateful as to say it out loud. He's right, in his own way, but I suppose that's just one more reason to convince myself that the what-would-have-been if we'd gotten married might not be so rosy after all. Grandma once told me that when you marry someone, you marry their family. And I'd never wish my family onto Frederick. I wouldn't wish them onto anyone, except maybe myself; I was born with them, so I guess that's my karma.

Well, since it's my karma, I hope I'm doing a good enough job of looking after my family. I turned out to be right about Grandma, after all, in a way. She lived three years and two months after the diagnosis, much longer than what the doctors ever predicted. For those of us in the know, there's always hope even in Stage 4. Granted, it's not the same kind of hope as those folks in Stage 1 or 2 may have; we'd be kidding ourselves if we didn't know that complete cure is almost if not certainly unattainable. But the hope we have is to control the disease, and we know it's not impossible to think with the long run in mind. Now things are even more different, with more therapies to string together so there'll always be more options to try if something doesn't work. Grandma wasn't lucky enough to be able to benefit from the new targeted therapies like Tarceva or Erbitux, but we've been fortunate in so many other ways, like how we've been largely successful in keeping her side effects in check. And when the final weeks came around, I learned that there's still hope in the face of death; you can still hope for a peaceful passing, with lots of love and the minimum of suffering. I'm glad to have been able to see Grandma through that, even if I was scared like crazy all the way. I owe Grandma a lot for bringing us up - even if we didn't always see eye to eye, I know she always had our best welfare in mind, and for that I'm eternally grateful. And so seeing her through the journey of life, that's the least I can do to reciprocate and I've done it.

These years, they've been hard on Mary in a different way, too. She was just as scared as me about Grandma's cancer diagnosis, and maybe even more since she's always lived in fear that we'd die and abandon her, just like the way she thinks Mom did. I wish I had more time to comfort her back then, but I was just in over my head with my work and looking after Grandma and running the house as best as I could with Rosa. The Musgroves were a godsend to step in the way they did, so Mary could get away from the house from time to time. She couldn't take it, facing all the trappings of illness and knowing just how serious things were. It was harder for her, I guess, being still so young and all. Who's to know I wouldn't have reacted the same way if it had happened when I was her age? Anyway, she needed to be a normal teenager some of the time, going for parties, movies and swing dancing; and Charles was able to come in to give her a little bit of that life. I guess it's no surprise they ended up together; after all, he was her best friend during those days, and the Musgroves' was where she could take refuge whenever she wanted to get away from the grim, gloomy world of cancer. I'd like to think Grandma would have approved of them getting married, even though she didn't live to see the actual wedding. But by the time she went, I think she probably knew already that it'd happen sooner or later. I'd like to believe she went with the consolation that Mary would be well taken care of.

I'm worried about Father and Liz, actually. I haven't been to see Mr. Shepherd since Grandma stopped going for the meetings; it's not my place to be there when Father's the head of the household unless he specifically invites me. But I can see how they're living it up in Florida, and I wonder how much they can possibly save. At least, the Big Three have rebounded somewhat and the auto industry is doing pretty OK for now, so I hope things can hang in there for awhile. But if I were Father or Liz, I wouldn't spend the way they do. We might not be all the way down the toilet, but we're not totally in the clear either.

Where do I see myself one year from now? This is the part where in summer camp, they tell us to put down something on our bucket list we hope to do, so when we open the letter the next year, we can feel happy we've done it. But I'm turning 30 next month, and yet I know if I open this letter again one year from now, I'll have moved backwards rather than forwards. For one, I'll be living in Charles and Mary's house like an au pair. I already said no to that once, when Charlie was born. I figured Mary was already getting more help than most other young moms, because she and Charles took on Rosa after Grandma passed, and Mrs. Musgrove is right next door. But now that she's expecting a second child, it isn't fair to expect Mrs. Musgrove to look after both her kids, especially when the twins are still teenagers and need someone to keep an eye on them; and with Rosa retiring, there'll be nobody to do the dreaded middle-of-the-night bathroom runs and such. True, I'm working and Mary isn't, and so I'll be hard pressed to catch a few winks of sleep here and there, but realistically, knowing Mary, she still won't lift a finger and someone needs to tag-team with Charles; he's working, too.

Should I hope I've moved on, relationship-wise? Setting Frederick free means I've already committed myself to a future without him, so there's no point crying over spilt milk. But all these years, I haven't had the energy to invest myself in another relationship, either. Family has been taking up a lot of my time and whatever energy I'm not putting into my job. I'll play it by ear, I guess. Like what I've been doing all this time.

So what messages shall I leave for myself for next year? Hang in there. Find little joys in life, like listening to those old '80s and '90s songs and remembering the days when you were young. Continue praying for Frederick, because he's safely back in the US and he's doing well, so somewhere your prayers have been answered. And remember to take care of yourself and do the right thing by others. True, sometimes it really sucks that nobody appreciates you, but you've got to remember, you can't just demand attention the way Liz and Mary do. You've got to earn it, and if you make the first move by treating others right first, then someday in the long run, they'll treat you right in return. I've got to tell myself all these things, because nobody will give me these little encouragements if I don't do it myself.

Love Yours,

Anne Elliot

P.S. I think I've got the whole situation in a nutshell, it all goes back to my favorite song in the end. Fred's out there flying, his dream come true like the song said. What about me? Just to quote the song, I am, "just an earth-bound misfit, I".