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Of course, it couldn’t last.
Once the table read ended, her family descended upon her en masse, much like a plague of locusts. Her mother arrived ahead of the others, sweeping into the hospital room with Elizabeth’s younger sisters—Lydia, Kitty, and Mary—in her wake. Jane followed at a more sedate pace, and her father eventually straggled in last, with a customarily vague expression that suggested he wasn’t sure where he was or why he was there.
Franny Bennet had been a Hollywood starlet in the sixties and seventies; her most famous role had been in a series of commercials for Liquid Sunshine as part of a misbegotten campaign to rehabilitate the product’s image following a scandal over the purity of the orange juice. Her smiling face announcing “Liquid Sunshine, now with twenty-two percent fewer carcinogens” was a meme that still floated around the internet.
She had met her future husband on the set of his first directorial triumph (by his account at least): Night of the Living Trees. Feeling misunderstood by the American viewing public, Franny quit acting when her first daughter was born, preferring to devote her time to managing her children’s Hollywood careers. Jane had appeared in a baby food commercial at the tender age of three months and by age eight had a résumé two pages long. Fortunately, she had thrived in front of the camera and had gracefully taken control of her career in college.
While Elizabeth had also done some acting, she was considered the black sheep since refusing (at age seven) to utter lines in a doll commercial because “Barbie is stupid.” After conceding defeat on her second oldest daughter, Franny focused on finding Mary and Kitty suitable acting gigs. But when Lydia was born, Franny began dreaming of stardom. Lydia was beautiful, outgoing, and ambitious. Franny had devoted hours to her youngest daughter’s career, although Elizabeth wondered if her mother’s hard work would be enough to overcome Lydia’s complete lack of common sense or talent.
Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth was not Franny’s favorite daughter. Even her recent graduation from Stanford University—usually an event that made a parent deliriously happy—could not compensate for Elizabeth’s scandalous want of acting ambition.
Tom Bennet’s feelings toward his second daughter were somewhat warmer since she was quite useful on a movie set, but he still found her puzzling. Elizabeth had worked diligently throughout high school so she could attend a prestigious college and make her parents proud, but gradually she’d resigned herself to the knowledge that they only measured success by Hollywood standards.
“So you have a concussion,” her mother clucked at Elizabeth.
Feeling more than a little muddled, Elizabeth hoped she could avoid a long, involved family conversation. “I’m really tired. Can someone just take me home so I can sleep?”
Her mother ignored this. “I don’t know how you managed to get a concussion on a film set!” she exclaimed. “It’s not like you’re a stunt man…woman…person.”
“Don’t you know?” Lydia said as the other daughters crowded in behind their mother. “She was hit by William Darcy’s car!” Elizabeth winced as her sister’s high-pitched voice jangled her scrambled nerves.
Their mother’s eyes lit up. “William Darcy? Now that was quite clever of you, Lizzy.”
“He didn’t actually hit me.”
Her mother waved this inconvenient fact away. “That is unfortunate, but I’m sure we can still make something of it.” Elizabeth exchanged a long-suffering look with Jane, who had taken the chair by her bedside. “Mr. Darcy did have that scandalous incident, but he is so well connected. Perhaps he could give your career a boost in exchange for a promise not to sue.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, praying for patience. “I don’t need a career boost from him.”
“I know. Everyone believes they can make it on their own, but in the film business, connections mean every—”
“Mom,” Elizabeth said, trying to keep her voice low as the pain in her head surged back. “I’m going to medical school. Remember? Knowing Darcy won’t matter at all.”
“Medical school? Medical school?” Her mother gaped, aghast, although this was far from the first time she had heard of this plan. Franny Bennet gave her husband a stricken look. “First Stanford and now medical school. Where did we go wrong, Tom?”
Being in the habit of not responding to his wife, he simply shrugged. Being in the habit of not expecting a response, she continued to speak. “I just don’t think it’s practical, becoming a doctor. The world is full of unemployed doctors.”
“There are a lot of good jobs for doctors,” Elizabeth said wearily, wishing she could just sleep.
“Well, I don’t know about that. How useful are doctors, anyway?” Franny Bennet fluttered her hands as her eyes took in the hospital room. “I don’t understand why you insist on this medical school pipe dream when you could have a perfectly good career in Hollywood—a career most people would kill for.”
How many times do I need to explain this? Elizabeth wondered. “I don’t want a career in Hollywood. I don’t like Hollywood.”
Her mother gasped and crossed herself, although they weren’t Catholic.
Elizabeth pressed on. “I’m not an actor or director, and I’m not interested in being on the production side doing makeup or camera work or special effects.”
Her mother sniffed. “I suppose there’s no harm in fostering that delusion a little longer.”
“It’s not a delusion.”
“If you say so, my dear.” Her mother leaned over the bed and patted Elizabeth’s hand in a most irritating manner. Turning to Lydia, she spoke in a loud stage whisper. “She does have a concussion, the poor thing.”
Elizabeth clenched her fists in the sheets, knowing the only way to stop the argument was to change the subject. If only I had been born into a different family.
“Are you ready to leave the hospital?” Jane asked.
Bless her. “As soon as the nurse brings a wheelchair. Will you drive me home?” she asked her sister. “I’m supposed to have a responsible party with me for the next twelve hours.”
