Curtis Sittenfeld - Eligible

“Greetings,” Rick Price intoned. “We have gathered here today for a truly blessed event, a celebration that is the pinnacle of life and love. Chip and Jane, before your families, God, and the world, you’ll affirm your commitment to each other.” He paused and winked toward the guests. “Now, who’s ready to have some fun?”

A confusing pause ensued, and then Jane said, “I am.” Chip tried to speak, couldn’t, sniffled even as new tears fell, and simply nodded.

“Rick, let’s do that again without the wink,” a bearded producer standing behind one of the film crews interjected, and the ceremony proceeded thusly: a progression of do-overs and tears that made what likely would have been a ten-minute rite last over an hour. At intervals, makeup was reapplied, particularly to Jane but also to Chip, Rick Price, and the rest of the wedding party; a break was taken while Jane, accompanied by Liz and three members of the wardrobe department, went to urinate; and for multiple minutes at a time, everyone simply waited as Chip tried to collect himself, with Jane murmuring reassurances that were in fact audible to all.

Yet Liz was never bored; the entire ceremony was a surreal and delicious purgatory that she could have contentedly existed in forever, making uninterpretable but possibly flirtatious eye contact with Fitzwilliam Darcy. Liz had walked down the aisle as the final bridesmaid before Jane and had by some trick of vision managed to ignore both Chip and Rick Price standing before her and seen only Darcy: impossibly tall and serious and handsome. His handsomeness, still, was astonishing. But it was the import of what she wanted to say to him combined with her uncertainty about how he’d respond that left her in no hurry for the ceremony’s conclusion. Given that Darcy was not Caroline’s boyfriend, and given also the rumor that Darcy still had feelings for her— the swoon-inducing rumor unwittingly propagated by Caroline — Liz felt some degree of optimism. But optimism could always be quashed, and her heart could be broken once again.

Eventually, even with Chip’s voluminous tears, the ceremony finished. The couple made their victorious promenade down the aisle as husband and wife, to great applause; then, so as to ensure that the cameras didn’t miss a single angle, they circled back and made the same promenade two additional times. At this point, the guests were free to mingle, though Liz knew there was much more to endure, including her own toast. Presumably, the documentation of both the first dance and the slicing of the wedding cake would also require extra patience. But champagne was being served, appetizers were being passed — stuffed mushrooms, crostini smeared with goat cheese — and there was for at least a few minutes an interlude of comparative freedom. Darcy stood by the hot tub talking to Shane, and as Liz hurried toward them, she was intercepted by Lydia.

“This is the most boring day of my life,” Lydia said with her mouth full of stuffed mushroom. “Aren’t you bored?”

“I guess you’re not cut out for reality TV,” Liz said. “Which is good to know, right?”

“Does Jane get to keep that dress?” Lydia asked, and Liz said, “There’s something I have to do. I’ll be back in a second.” As she pushed past Jane, Chip, and the small throng encircling them to issue congratulations, she turned off the microphone discreetly clipped to the inside of her dress, near her collarbone. At the edge of the hot tub, she tapped Darcy on the arm. When he looked at her, she said, “Hi. Hi, Shane. Can I steal Darcy for a second?” Up close, she could unmistakably see the makeup Darcy wore — base and powder, it appeared — which might have been disconcerting if she had not felt so preoccupied with the mission she had assigned herself.

“You look great, Liz,” Shane said. He lifted his champagne glass. “Cheers.”

Liz held no glass, but she repeated, “Cheers.” To Darcy, she said, “Will you come with me?”

“Where?” He said it without particular warmth.

She had decided on a spot beside the path that led around the side of the lodge. She pointed. “That way. And can you turn off your mic?”

“Can I what?”

It was easier to do than to explain — she stood on tiptoe, reached up to his lapel, and switched it off herself. Turning, she walked quickly toward the path, still carrying her bouquet, avoiding eye contact with family and crew members alike and hoping that Darcy and no one else was following her; surely some audio guy, perhaps someone in the control room, had already taken note of having lost sound for the maid of honor and the best man and was en route to rectify the situation. She glanced over her shoulder — Darcy was following her — then stepped off the path and behind a large boulder bordered by desert grasses and bleached, sandy soil. He joined her, his expression quizzical, and they stood facing each other.

“You talked to my mom about Ham, didn’t you?” Liz said. He looked surprised, and Liz added, “Lydia and Mary both mentioned it.”

Darcy scanned Liz’s face before saying, “I’m afraid the birth defect explanation isn’t politically correct, but I was trying to find terms that would be understandable to someone of her generation.”

“Did you talk to her over the phone or in person?” Liz hadn’t planned to ask, but she found herself wondering.

Darcy smiled. “That’s a very Liz Bennet — ish question. I took both your parents to lunch.”

“That was brave.” After a pause, she said, “Is a Liz Bennet — ish question a good or bad thing?”

Darcy said, “Actually, that’s a very Liz Bennet — ish question, too.”

“You guys didn’t go to Skyline, did you?”

“We went to Teller’s. Would you like to know what we ordered?”

But there was growing affection in his tone, not sarcasm. And the thought of him inviting her mother and father to lunch, sitting with them at a table in Teller’s, helping them, with the authority conferred by his medical degree, to understand that having a transgender son-in-law wasn’t a terrible thing — it was very moving. Liz said, “Thank you. And thank you also for getting Jane and Chip back together — for making the dinner in New York happen.”

“I’m glad you feel that way after the paces we’ve been put through in the last few days.” He grazed his jaw with his fingers. “And me standing here like a fool in makeup.”

“It kind of suits you. Is the stroke center okay with you taking time off?”

“I’ll be working Christmas and New Year’s, which is fine. Georgie’s flying to Cincinnati for the holidays.” Their eyes met again, and he said, “Georgie called me last night. She’s worried that she sent you a confusing text on Labor Day.”

“It wasn’t Georgie’s fault. It just—” Liz swallowed. “I jumped to conclusions. I didn’t know you and Caroline had been in a car accident, and I thought you’d gotten together, like as a couple. It didn’t seem that far-fetched, because I could tell I’d annoyed you by interrupting our breakfast and flying to Cincinnati when Lydia eloped. Then when you texted me right after I got back to New York — I wish now that I hadn’t responded so coldly, but that’s why I did. And it’s why I didn’t behave very well at the dinner with Jane and Chip.”

“Yes, it was clear that night that I’d done something to displease you,” Darcy said. “Even if I wasn’t sure what.”

“I actually wanted to ask you in New York how Georgie is doing,” Liz said.

“Much better,” Darcy said. “Thanks.”

There was a brief silence, and Liz gathered her courage. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry because I’ve been rude, and you haven’t deserved my rudeness. In Atherton, I felt like things between us were good in a way they hadn’t been before. I really enjoyed being around you, and even though I’d been obnoxious in Cincinnati, I thought maybe you’d forgiven me. But after Lydia eloped, it seemed like I’d ruined any shot you and I had.”