Curtis Sittenfeld - Eligible

LIZ’S PROFILE OF Kathy de Bourgh appeared in the December issue of Mascara, and Jasper’s article about Cincinnati’s powerhouse squash tradition appeared in the December issue of Sporty; the two magazines hit newsstands within a day of each other in early November. By the afternoon, six people had texted or emailed Liz about Jasper’s article, four of whom knew she knew him and all of whom knew she was from Cincinnati. She read it that night.

Only after finishing it — the focus switched between the coach and the eleven-year-old boy with the intense father — did she realize that a part of her had expected Jasper’s article to morph from a straightforward sports feature into a breaking-the-fourth-wall direct address to Liz herself, a postmodern confession or self-exculpation on Jasper’s part. Yet it was none of these things; it was only about squash. Was she disappointed or relieved? She’d have expected the former but instead, without doubt, felt the latter.

The next morning, Liz discovered that after going to bed, she had received a two-sentence email from Kathy de Bourgh: Dear Liz, Thank you for taking the time to depict me with respect and accuracy. I enjoyed meeting you and am most appreciative. Kathy

Liz hadn’t previously communicated directly with Kathy de Bourgh and was briefly unsure how to address her. Then, decisively, she typed, Kathy, the pleasure was mine. I’m delighted you enjoyed the article. Liz. She forwarded Kathy de Bourgh’s email to her editor, Talia, prefacing it with the word Nice and three exclamation points.

THROUGH AN EXCHANGE of texts with Darcy that didn’t veer in subject from logistics, Liz had agreed that she and Jane would meet him at seven o’clock at a bistro in lower Manhattan. Jane, who was reluctant but obviously sensed Liz’s wish for her attendance, arrived in New York via train in the afternoon.

Though Liz wished she could be as indifferent to Darcy as Jane was, an irresistible curiosity gripped her. The evening might leave her bruised or remorseful, but she was compelled to know why he wanted to see them. As they entered the restaurant, Liz’s heart pounded and her body pulsed with a jittery energy.

Following the maître d’, Liz made eye contact with Darcy from several feet away, and when he stood — without smiling, he held up his right hand — an odd happiness swelled within her.

“Oh my God, Chip’s here,” Jane said.

It was true — Liz had been so focused on Darcy that she’d failed to notice that Chip was also waiting at the table.

Liz glanced at her sister and said, “I had no idea, I swear.” Jane bit her lip, and Liz said, “Is this okay? We can leave.”

“It’s fine,” Jane said quietly.

Even before they reached the table, Liz felt herself oversmiling, talking too loudly and with excess enthusiasm. “Hi!” she said to Darcy and Chip. “Chip! What a surprise!” Chip was now standing, too, and the physical and symbolic intricacies of all of them greeting one another seemed nearly insurmountable. Thus, despite her misgivings, Liz threw her arms around Chip in the friendliest and most midwestern of hugs, and he half-hugged her back while kissing her right cheek. She then hugged Darcy. Had the two of them ever hugged? Not, she was pretty sure, while clothed. Even as this thought formed, the hug had concluded, and they were all sitting. She wondered if the men were shocked by the size of Jane’s belly.

“What are you doing here?” she said to Chip with great energy, and though she willed herself to turn down both the volume and the chumminess a notch, the strange and ambiguous situation was impelling her to take the reins of the conversation. “Are you in New York for long?”

“I’m not.” Though he was considerably more subdued than Liz, his voice contained its usual sincerity and kindness. “But it’s really good to see both of you.” It was clear that the sentiment was directed at Jane; every molecule of Chip’s body seemed turned toward and attuned to her. Was it possible, Liz wondered, that he found this lushly curvy version of Jane to be as beautiful as Liz herself did? When he said to Jane, “I hope you’ve been well,” such depth of feeling infused his tone that the wish did not seem inordinate.

“I’ve been living up in Rhinebeck, which is very relaxing.” Jane removed the napkin from the table in front of her and unfolded it on her lap. “Are you still in California?”

Chip nodded. “We wrapped the Eligible shoot in October.”

Liz wanted to ask if he’d found love, of either the genuine or the scripted variety, yet posing the question in Jane’s presence seemed cruel. Instead, Liz said, “So what’s next for you?”

“Funny you should ask. I’ve gotten an agent, actually, who’s talking to some folks about my hosting a medical talk show on cable. It’d be a roundtable thing — me, a nurse-practitioner, an alternative type like an acupuncturist or chiropractor. I’m hoping it’s a way to use my expertise without fighting in the trenches like this guy.” He gestured with his thumb at Darcy and added cheerfully, “If there was any lingering doubt that I’m a lightweight.”

There wasn’t, Liz thought, but Jane said, with more force than Liz would have expected, “I think you’re being too hard on yourself. If working in an ER isn’t what you want to do, you shouldn’t be miserable.” Was she, Liz wondered, talking only about medicine?

The waiter approached, and Darcy said, “Shall we get a bottle of wine? Jane, I don’t know if you’re drinking.” Both he and Chip already had a cocktail in front of them.

“I’m not,” Jane said.

Liz said, “But your doctor self sounded impressively nonjudgmental, Darcy.”

The expression on Darcy’s face then was hard to read — it might have been irritation — and Liz thought, You’re the one who invited us here.

“I’m sure Jane knows that she doesn’t need to answer to me,” Darcy said, but he said it stiffly, and it occurred to Liz for the first time that he was not entirely at ease, which was all that was necessary for the last of her own nervousness to vanish. Besides, between them, the two men at this table had broken both her and her sister’s hearts. They didn’t deserve her nervousness!

She said, “Chip, have you ever considered auditioning for that dance competition show?”

“Believe it or not, it’s very hard to win a spot. Not to mention, I’m sure I don’t have what it takes. No, if I have any self-respect, the Eligible reunion will be my reality-TV swan song. If I stay in television, I’d like it to be more service-oriented.”

As the four of them selected then received their entrées, Chip spoke the most, Liz the second most, and Darcy and Jane only intermittently. Chip never uttered the words pregnant or pregnancy but seemingly without discomfort alluded several times to Jane’s condition, inquiring about how she was feeling, where she planned to deliver, and whether she envisioned continuing to teach yoga after the baby was born. Darcy paid for the meal — when Liz pulled her wallet from her purse, he shook his head sternly — and after he had passed his credit card to the waiter, Jane went to use the restroom. When she stood, so did both men. In her absence, Chip said to Liz, “She really seems good.”

“She is.”

“And she’s — she’s well-settled in Rhinebeck, it sounds like?” Did he wish to be contradicted? During the meal, Liz had concluded that they were all gathered so that Chip and Darcy could officially absolve themselves; they could go forth into the rest of their lives confident that they hadn’t wronged the Bennet sisters in any deep or permanent way, assured that they were all on Waspily amicable terms. And this belief that they were entitled to absolution — it seemed the most self-indulgent act of all. But were they gathered instead for Chip to attempt to rekindle the relationship? The possibility was intriguing and alarming.