"... Your phone keeps ringing, so I answered itâŠ"
On the cover of the issue of Time honoring his life, Marcus Darcy is quoted as saying, "My father expected greatness. My mother expected a good person. I hope I've landed somewhere acceptably in the middle."
The magazine had found a home in the upper right corner of Fitzwilliam Darcy's coffee table two years ago- the once crisp black-and-white shot of his dad (1952-2004) now smudged in varying degrees. A stickiness bordered Marcus's left arm (crossed over his chest), and there was a halo of crumbs circling his salt and pepper hair. Thanks to a single drop of sweat from the bottom of a Red Stripe, Marcus's left cheek bore the warpedness of a water ring.
Fitzwilliam sighed loudly and slowly rolled forward off of the couch to put his head between his legs.
He was about 85% sure he was going to be sick. The other fifteen was only dimly aware that the model he planned to never call again was standing in his livingroom while wearing his shirt, and holding his phone.Â
"...Um, Denny said he needs you at the office, the Board isâŠ"
Fitzwilliam screwed his eyes shut, and his cheeks puffed out as all of last night lurched forward in his stomach, and up his throat, and onto the floor.
**
"...are you sure you're okay? You're looking kinda greenâŠ"
Fighting with her nerves before an audition was nothing new to Lizzie, but admittedly there was something about this commercial that had her stomach in knots.
Something odd was beyond the familiar pressure of not failing yet another attempt at her dream. Maybe it was both the reality that her hopes were pinned to a spot for Gogurt, and the double shifts she'd been working, that compounded her overall feeling of being rundown.Â
"Yeah, I'm fine. Can you...can you read that line again?"
Perhaps the sweat rapidly collecting around her collar was a combination of her performance anxiety, and the temperature in the waiting room.
Lizzie wasn't sure, but her vision began to blur out as she listened to Charlotte restart the scene. And she swallowed back the saliva rush three times until she heaved over her chair, vomiting directly onto the office bamboo.