A Dream Deferred - Chapter 27

A/N: Sooooo.... this only took me 1 year longer than I thought it would... My twins are almost 1.5 years old, so maybe that has something to do with it. ;-) It is my goal to wrap this up soon, but no promises on a posting schedule. You can blame the aforementioned twins for that! One of the useful perks of parenthood...always a ready-made excuse. Ha. Anyway, last we left our dynamic duo, they had just had a harrowing experience at a refugee camp in Jordan. That chapter can be found here. And just to re-orient everyone, this is taking place in September 2014. Thanks for reading and asking about this story. I appreciate your patience and support!

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CHAPTER 27

It felt like the kind of intrusion to which he should be accustomed. The personal and mundane details of his life seemed to inspire more printed words than the collapse of small countries the universe had determined to be insignificant. And so it had always been with the young and the rich and the impossibly handsome men who also managed to be powerful. Their lives commanded the obsessive speculation laced with reverence that only obscene amounts of money can invite. And yet, all those so-called stories about the notoriously private billionaire had never managed to capture the Darcy she seemed to be witnessing, if only for a fleeting second. She could hear him singing - loudly and painfully off-key - classical music of uncertain origin playing in the background. His voice was hypnotic, his joyous rendition of the unfamiliar song strangely compelling and the absurdity of the entire situation debilitating. She found herself paralyzed, unable to either announce herself or walk away, and so, she stood outside his door in silence, an unannounced intruder at a personal opera. Every passing day cemented in Elizabeth the notion that she knew very little about the man she had decided to loathe for no other reason than she could. And the depths of that wilful ignorance, the sheer scope of it, never ceased to render her breathless and chastened.

It was in this vulnerable position that she was finally discovered. The door opened suddenly and Darcy emerged, all smiles and warmth as was his newfound practice. “I thought I heard someone at the door.”

Elizabeth colored at having been caught red-handed. “I, ahhh…- that’s to say. Well…- ummm.” She paused, cleared her throat and tried again. “Hi Will.”

He seemed amused and not the least bit embarrassed. “Hi Liz. Would you like to come in?”

“Oh? I don’t mean to intrude. You seem busy. I can come back another time. I should have called obviously.”

“I’m never too busy for you,” replied Darcy.

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, then with a twinkle in her eye, said, “Are you sure? Sounded like you were rehearsing for an important performance.”

Darcy laughed. “You heard that, huh?”

Elizabeth nodded in response. “The entire neighborhood heard, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to say this, Will, but you better not quit your day job.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” said Darcy. “So?”

“So what?”

“Are you going to come in? I assume you did not come here just to stand outside my door.”

“Are you sure it’s not a bad time?”

“Positive. I was just cooking dinner. Why don’t you come in, stay, have dinner with me?”

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. “If it’s not an intrusion…-”

“It’s not.” And with those words, he led her inside.

His apartment had all the character and charm one might expect from long-term corporate housing. The walls were white, the furniture beige and the carpets a wan grey. But traces of the current occupant could be found everywhere. The handful of books on the bookshelf were arranged in descending order of size. The papers on the dining room table were neatly organized in piles, undoubtedly the product of a complicated and exacting system. The kitchen was overflowing with enough pots, pans, utensils and condiments to rival any kitchen ever owned by Jane Bennet. The apartment, in short, reflected the man himself. Efficient. Organized. Commanding. Meticulous. With a hint of warmth and the promise of more. It smelled wonderful in there, a combination of cumin and peppercorns and ginger and mint. For a woman who did not cook, Elizabeth had spent far too many hours in spice markets, and she could not help but identify those smells with the perseverance of life in the face of all odds. No matter the indignities and the tragedies of war, the spice markets were never deserted. It was about more than food. It was the recognition that family recipes were often the vessels through which the generations communicated. It was the understanding that a people may cease to exist, but their traditions may not. It was, above all, an act of defiance. And so it was that no matter the cost, the rhythms of daily life would always go on.

“I hope you like lamb,” said Darcy, interrupting her reverie.

Elizabeth took a seat on a bar stool by the kitchen counter, accepted the offer of a beer and said, “Are you serious? I subsist on coffee and Ramen. I will gratefully eat anything you are kind enough to offer me.” She watched Darcy saute, chop and grind for a few minutes. “Do you need any help?”

“From you?” Darcy raised his eyebrows.

Elizabeth tilted her head. “My reputation is hopelessly tarnished, I see.”

“Beyond repair,” said Darcy with a smile. “Don’t worry. The lamb is almost done. Let me just put some rice on and then I’m all yours.”

“Were you really planning on making this elaborate meal just for yourself?”

“It’s not that elaborate. You forget. I like to cook.”

“I remember. I just can’t fathom why, so I think I keep blocking that fact from my memory.”

Darcy shook his head in mock seriousness. “Jane told me you were hopeless in this regard.”

“Just this one?” Elizabeth teased.

“As far as I can tell.”

“And they say you’re discerning.” Elizabeth smiled. He turned on the rice cooker, grabbed his beer and took a seat next to her. Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer than necessary. “How did you become so interested in cooking?”

Darcy was silent for a long moment. “I learned to cook from my mom.”

“Oh.” She had never heard him speak of his mother before. “You never talk about her.”

“No.”

“Not even with Anne or Richard? Or your sister?”

“No. I don’t care to trouble people with my issues.”

“I get that.”

“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I know a thing or two about loss.”

“Yeah.”

“And the disinclination to speak about that loss.”

“Yeah,” said Darcy. “I guess I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

“Neither am I,” said Elizabeth. She took a deep breath and said, “But I’m here anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m here to talk about the other day in Zaatari… I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Liz. I’m sorry I pressed you to talk. I shouldn’t have.”

“No, it’s ok, Will. I…- I want to talk to you. If you’re still willing to listen.”

“I would love it if you could operate under the assumption that I’m always willing to listen to you.”

“Ok, point taken.” Elizabeth paused. “So… that day in Zaatari, I was angry and I said some hurtful things to you. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

“I didn’t want to see you hurt on my watch.”

“I hope you wouldn’t want to see me hurt on anyone’s watch.”

“Will, I’m serious.”

“Also, this may be a good time to remind you I’m a grown man. I don’t particularly need to be watched.”

“Will...!”

“Ok, ok, sorry. Go on…-”

“I…- I almost lost you, Will.”

“But you didn’t.” He reached out and touched her hand. “I’m ok, Liz. I’m right here.” It had been a week, and the cuts and bruises from that incident were already fading.

“You don’t understand. It was close. Too close.”

“I know. I was there.”

“I can’t go through that again. I can’t…- I can’t lose another person I care about. Especially if the reason is my own carelessness and stupidity.”

“I don’t understand. How are you to blame for what happened?”

“I shouldn’t have allowed you to come with me.”

“It wasn’t exactly a choice.”

“There’s always a choice. I could have said no. I could have explained how massively stupid it was to Ed. I relented because I miscalculated the risk.”

“No one could have known there would be a riot.”

“They’ve had riots before.”

“But the security situation has been improving there. You said so yourself.”

“Not enough, obviously.”

“You were there too, Liz. I took the same risks as you. I know you don’t think that’s the right standard…-”

“It’s not. You don’t get it.” Her voice was tense.

“Then explain it to me. I want to understand.”

“It’s ok if I die,” she said, the familiar, quiet edge returning to her voice. “I don’t care about what happens to me. I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of losing another friend. That thought terrifies me.”

Darcy did not speak immediately, but when he did, his tone was soft. “A lot of people care about what happens to you.”

She looked at him. “You think I’m being selfish?”

“No. I think you’re being unduly harsh on yourself.”

“I’m not. Dylan is dead because of me.” She paused. An explanation seemed appropriate. “My friend who died in Iraq. The photographer.”

“I know who he is.”

“We went to the market that morning because I wanted to. He didn’t, but I insisted. He bled to death on the way to the hospital because no one tied a tourniquet on his leg. I have EMT training. I could have helped him. He died because of my hubris, and I will live rest of my days feeling atrocious about the fact that the wrong journalist survived that day.”

“Oh, Liz…-”

“I know what you’re going to say,” said Elizabeth, her voice rising. “It’s not my fault. It’s the fault of the suicide bomber who was cowardly enough to murder so many innocent people. I get that. On a rational level, I get it. I have a shrink. I’ve spent dozens of hours talking about this. But on a purely visceral level, it will always be my fault. I will always question if I could have stopped that day from happening. And you know what, I didn’t even realize the depth of that truth until I saw you swallowed whole by an angry mob. And at that moment, it all came rushing back to me. That’s what loss is, Will. It’s vicious and it’s vindictive and it kicks you when you’re down.”

“I’m sorry I triggered such an emotional response. That wasn’t my intent.”

Elizabeth sighed. “It’s ok. I need to grapple with this. Like I said, I know how to tackle this train of thought when I’m being calm and rational, but I need to manage myself in the dark moments when those awful voices whisper lies in my ears. I will always have some measure of survivor’s guilt or whatever you want to call it. This experienced changed me - and it will stay with me forever. But what happens next is entirely up to me, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I lost it out there. I got angry and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry about that. I just need you to understand why I act like a crazed lunatic half the time.”

“Just half?” He beamed a smile at her.

She smiled. “Ok, all the time. But look, you are the one insisting you want to know me. This is what you have to contend with, my friend.”

“I can handle it, Liz.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe you.”

“I’m glad.”

“I still don’t get why you’d want to subject yourself to this.”

“I have my reasons.”

“You realize you can’t come out to the field with me again, right?”

“Well, we’ll see.”

“Will, have you been listening to me?”

“I have.”

“So you’re just choosing to ignore my wishes?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad.”

“I understand your perspective. You feel responsible for Dylan’s death. And you don’t want to be responsible for mine or anyone else’s. But here’s the thing. You weren’t responsible, Liz. For any of it. You’re not responsible for this war in Syria or the one in Iraq or the ones that are yet to come. I get wanting to protect those you care about, but you have to realize that is unrealistic. You take calculated risks every day. I know you say you don’t care about what happens to you. But I do. And Jane does. And Anne. And Richard. And your parents. You take the risks because you have to, and the rest of us hope you make it back in one piece. That’s life. We all have to reconcile with that. You’ll have to do the same. Make peace with the notion that you can’t control what happens to others. It’s terrifying, I’ll grant you that. But that’s life, Liz. You can’t control everything.”

Elizabeth let his words hang for a second in silence. “Must you be so reasonable and persuasive?”

“One of my many faults.”

She looked down at her beer, disinclined to make eye contact. “For the record, you’re right.”

“I know.”

“I don’t have to like it.”

“I know.”

“I won’t accept that reality all the time.”

“I know.”

“And I’ll keep fighting you on this.”

“I know that too.”

She finally looked up at him and met his triumphant eyes. “It isn’t polite to gloat.”

He held her gaze for a second. “Losing someone you love isn’t easy. No matter the circumstance. And it seems you really loved him.”

“Dylan?”

“Yeah.”

“I did. Or at least as much as I’m able.”

“Meaning?”

“I loved him, I really did. It just…- always felt overwhelming to me. To let someone else into my life. To feel like I relied on someone for even a tiny bit of happiness. But…- I don’t know that I loved him in that transcendent way you’re supposed to. Does that kind of love even exist?”

“I think it does.”

“Well, if it does, I didn’t feel that. But maybe he did. And that makes me feel terrible. I don’t know. It’s silly to speculate about this stuff now, and honestly, one of the hardest things about losing him is the unfinished business of it all. I feel like I owe him some semblance of loyalty or something. But even I don’t know exactly what that means.”

“You loved him the best you could. I doubt he would have expected anything more.”

“No. He was generous like that.”

“If his love for you was even close to what you’re describing, then I think he would have just wanted you to be happy.”

“You’re probably right.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Darcy said, “My parents had that kind of love, you know.”

Elizabeth looked at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Darcy nodded. “You know that Carl Sagan quote about his wife?”

“No, Will,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “I don’t know. I love how you think everyone should be able to quote Carl Sagan.”

“Well, everyone should. We will have to address that at a later date,” said Darcy. “But anyway, Carl Sagan dedicated his show Cosmos to his wife with this quote… “In the vastness of space and the immensity of time, it is my joy to share a planet and an epoch with Annie.” That was my parents. That quote perfectly encapsulates them.”

“That’s beautiful, Will,” said Elizabeth. “What were they like?”

“They…- they were the happiest couple you’ve ever met.” His voice was distant. “They would spend hours debating poetry and politics and religion and quantum physics and everything in between. Sometimes they’d have entire conversations without uttering a single word. It was puzzling to me as a kid. They shared this intensity I could not understand. But I get it now. They were soul mates.”

“It must have broken your father’s heart to lose her.”

“Yeah. He never really recovered from that. He put on a brave face, but that spark in his eyes was gone. The one he used to have when she walked into a room.”

“That must have been sad to watch.”

“Yeah. My dad worked a lot, too much sometimes. Pemberley and the Darcy name and his legacy mattered more to him than it should have. He was a man of honor, who wore responsibility almost as a shield. He always did what had to be done, no matter the personal cost.”

“Seems like it’s the Darcy way,” said Elizabeth. “To do what must be done.”

“Yes, it is, I suppose,” said Darcy. “He was calm and steady. Some might say serious. Mom…- she brought the warmth in his life. He relied on her to bring him a sense of joy and adventure and mischief. When she was gone, it’s like all those things that made him truly human vanished.”

“That’s simply tragic.”

“Yeah, well, it was a big loss for all of us.”

“She sounds lovely, Will.”

“She was,” he said. “I am terribly biased, of course, but she was a true gem of a human being. Never an unkind word for anyone. Loved by all who knew her.” He paused. “I wish you could have met her. She would have loved you.”

“You think so? I may have shocked her with my impertinence.”

Darcy laughed. “No way. She grew up with my Aunt Catherine, remember? Besides, she always admired strong, brilliant women.”

“I wish I could have met her too.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She always thought I was too serious. Just like my father.”

Elizabeth laughed. “How could she possibly have had that idea?”

“I was the firstborn son, the heir to the Darcy name and fortune, the future CEO. I remember writing a report in second grade about what I wanted to be when I grew up and thinking being a CEO didn’t sound nearly as interesting as being an astronaut. But even then I knew what was right, what had to be done. And that I was fortunate. And that everything else was a distraction. I think she…-” Darcy paused. “I think she wanted me to have a little fun in my life, a little harmless diversion. Something that could be mine - without any reference to who I was or who I had to be.”

“Is that how the cooking lessons started?”

“Yeah. She was an amazing cook. She had this collection of recipe books from all over the world. I still have it. She would try something new almost every week. I used to love watching her in the kitchen. She would sing old Broadway songs and do I Love Lucy impersonations. It was our time together, you know. And slowly I started helping her bake. And once my interest was piqued, I just kept asking for more lessons. We had so many hours of fun together. To this day, those are some of my favorite memories of her. Of us.”

“I’m sorry, Will. Losing a parent is hard. But two in such a short time. At such a young age. With a younger sister to care for and a business empire to manage. I don’t know how you did it.”

“Are my ears deceiving me or do you feel sorry for me?” His eyes danced with amusement.

She returned his look. “Maybe just a little.”

“Don’t. I had a lot of help. My family was great. Besides I didn’t have the luxury of self-pity. I had to be strong for Gia. She was still in high school when mom died. It devastated her.”

“Poor girl. I can’t imagine the trauma.”

“She had a rough go of it. And as I learned, teenage girls are complicated,” said Darcy with a sigh.

Elizabeth chuckled. “You’re telling me. I grew up in a house full of them.”

“Speaking of Gia, she is coming to visit in a few weeks. If you have some time, it would be great if we could have dinner or something. I know she is dying to meet you.”

“Me? I’m not that interesting. But of course, I’ll make time for her. I would love to finally meet her.”

Darcy’s smile widened into a grin. “Awesome.”

“You lifted that embargo on speaking about your parents.”

“Yeah.”

“How does it feel?”

“Good. Great.”

“I’m glad. I’m happy to know a little part of you that no one else does.”

“I think you know a lot of me that no one else does.”

“I promise not to tell.”

“Thanks for listening, Liz.”

“Anytime. You know, you can talk to me anytime. About this. Or anything, really.”

“I know.”

“I worry about you.”

“Why?”

“You don’t seem to have any confidants.”

“I have confidants. I have Anne and Richard. And Charles.”

“You don’t tell them anything. Nothing of consequence, anyway.”

“Maybe I have nothing of consequence to say.”

“Well, that’s just not true. All I’m saying is I can be that person for you. You can tell me things. Even the things you don’t want to say out loud. I won’t judge you. I think we have that kind of relationship now.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows. “Do we?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Don’t we?”

At that moment, the rice cooker beeped. Darcy checked on the food. Satisfied, he said, “Shall we eat?”

“Yes, let’s. I’m starving.” She helped set the table and sat down. “This smells delicious, Will. Thanks for letting me join you.”

“Of course.”

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What was that weird pseudo-classical music you were playing earlier?”

“Soundtrack to Battlestar Galactica.”

“Battle…- what?”

“Battlestar Galactica. Only the greatest show in the history of mankind.”

“Were you singing a song from the soundtrack?”

“Perhaps.”

“You have a problem, Will.”

“Prove it.”

“Your idea of fun is singing to the soundtrack of some obscure sci-fi show. By yourself.”

“It’s not just some sci-fi show. It’s a deeply moving show that explores the full pathos of the human condition. Which is what all good sci-fi tries to do with varying degrees of success. It’s about war and peace, love and hate, revenge, torture, religion. It’s like good Russian literature. At the end, you feel like you understand the nature of man just a little better. It’s art of the highest kind relegated to the status of a cult.”

“So you’re saying you’re a fan?”

“I think you would like it.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You are not going to convince me to watch a sci-fi show.”

“How about we start with Cosmos?”

“You think I’m drowning in free time or something?”

“I’m not giving up.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Will.”

For the next two hours, they talked about everything and nothing, about favorite books and guilty pleasures, about sci-fi and historical fiction, about the meaning of life and the impossibility of loss. Their laughter - forged in the trenches of a carefully rebuilt friendship - filled the small apartment, which somehow began to feel like a home. They teased and taunted and cajoled and argued, closely held convictions challenged with a gusto devoid of acrimony. This was to be their way, their joy always residing in a particularly didactic argument, the fruits of their labor hidden in a mind changed. When all the food was consumed and the coffee enjoyed and the dishes cleared, Elizabeth reluctantly decided it was time for her to go. There were no more reasons to stay except the one that she did not care to admit. She was beginning to find Darcy endlessly fascinating.

Darcy walked Elizabeth to the door. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Being here.”

“If you promise to feed me like that every day, I may never leave.”

“Not the craziest plan you’ve ever had.”

“Close though.” Elizabeth smiled. “Thanks for dinner, Will. Good night.”

“Good night,” said Darcy. As she turned to leave, he said, “Can I tell you one more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy to share this planet with you, Liz.”