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Jo is beyond pissed when she realizes she forgot her stupid fucking headphones.
How the hell is she supposed to moodily stare out the window of the train and pretend she’s in an indie movie without a Phoebe Bridgers soundtrack? It’s not even like she had AirPods or anything easily displaceable, just the good old fashioned wire headphones that were supposed to be harder to lose, god damnit. And AirPods were stupid anyway.
Now she was supposed to just what? Be stuck alone with her thoughts for the entire four-hour train ride? Fat chance.
She could write, she supposes, but that would require a spark of creativity from within, and she’s been sorely lacking in that for a solid six months or so. The only reason she meets her ghostwriting deadlines on time is because they pay her and unfortunately her landlord back in Bushwick still refuses to accept Beth’s homemade Snickerdoodles as rent, so she has to keep up the ghostwriting, as soul crushing as it all is.
She ultimately takes out her well-worn copy of On the Road, even though reading on the train has always made her just a little bit motion sick, but she figures there’s nothing more appropriate for travel than Kerouac.
Kerouac gets abandoned about halfway through Connecticut though, when the sister group chat (very appropriately named “March Sisters <3<3<3” – Meg’s doing) starts to pop off.
Breaking news: Amy overpacked Beth sends, alongside a photo of three (three!) pieces of Tiffany blue colored luggage crammed into the back of Beth’s beat up old hatchback.
Amy, I hope you didn’t make Beth load the car.
Even in a text, Jo can hear Meg’s chiding, motherly tone.
is this your way of telling us you got kicked out of school
Okay, fine, Jo can admit that was a little too bitchy.
you guys can be such cunts
But Amy always takes it one step further than Jo.
I’ve been reclaiming that word actually so thanks
Jo actually laughs out loud at that one. Beth had always been the sweet, quiet one since they were kids; she often forgot just how funny she could be too. But, Jo still has that need to be the funniest one.
everyone knows i certainly have no problem with cunts
Amy immediately dislikes it, and Meg sends a chiding Jo, please but Beth sends the meme of Ryan Gosling trying not to laugh at the Oscars, so at least someone appreciates her humor.
---
Meg picks her up from South Station in the most sensible god damn Volvo Jo’s ever seen.
“I’m so sorry I missed your forty-fifth birthday, Margaret,” Jo can’t help but snark. “I assume we’ll have to pick up the kids from soccer practice on the way?”
Meg clucks her tongue. Jo can tell she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s actually a very nice car. The safest on the market too.”
Jo can’t help but pile on. “I thought I was here for your wedding, not your retirement party.”
“I missed you too,” Meg smiles softly, pulling her in for a hug. And damn, Meg really does give the best fucking hugs.
Together, they stuff Jo’s fraying old duffle bag into the trunk, before climbing in the front, two cups of coffee already in the cupholders waiting for them. “Ugh, you went to Blue Bottle. Basic and overpriced.” But of course, it’s exactly how Jo takes it, with oat milk and everything, because Meg is very thoughtful like that.
“So, how’s New York?” Meg asks excitedly as they start on their thirty-minute journey to Concord. “Have you been writing? How’s that girl you were seeing, what was her name, the one with the eyebrow piercing?”
“Good, no, and she broke up with me and stole like half my houseplants,” Jo rattles off. “And her name was Margot.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jo,” Meg says, so sincerely genuine. Jo just shrugs. “Well, how is – “
Meg starts to rattle off more questions, not because she feels like she’s under some sort of eldest daughter obligation to keep tabs, but because as Jo knows, she’s just genuinely interested to hear about Jo’s life in the big city.
Jo knows she should probably reciprocate and ask some questions of her own, but the truth is, there’s nothing much to ask. Meg’s been with John for half her life now, ever since sophomore year of high school when they got seated next to each other in AP Euro and became the only two people in history to fall in love over required readings of the Spanish Inquisition. And anytime she asks about Meg’s job, it just bums Jo out.
Meg was the star of their theater program in high school, earning the lead role in everything, even as a freshman. Jo’s convinced Meg could’ve gone to Juilliard or Yale Drama or something and been a big Hollywood star by now, or at least Broadway. But, Meg chose to get a basic liberal arts education at Vassar and then her and John moved into an apartment in Concord together and they both went on to become elementary school teachers, following in the footsteps of her parents.
Which, whatever. Jo now has a ridiculous amount of Concord-Carlisle Teachers' Union shirts that she only uses to sleep in, not to mention the Boston Teachers' Union shirt gifted by Beth. It’s a little much.
Meg pulls into the driveway of Orchard House (their father had given the house a name as a joke when the girls had first read Pride & Prejudice together and then it kind of just stuck) at about half past four. Jo would never admit it out loud, for fear of being called a complete and total sap, but it really was her most favorite place in the world. She had a great childhood, okay? So, sue her.
But then she remembers they’re all about to be crammed into this house together again for a whole week (even Meg, who insisted on keeping up the silly tradition of her and John sleeping in separate bedrooms for the week leading up to the wedding, which Jo finds extra ridiculous considering they live together and also she knows for a fact they’ve been fucking since they were seventeen years old) and Jo starts feeling a little less fond.
Jo goes to open the car door, only for Meg to stop her, a surprisingly firm grip on her arm that Jo knows means that whatever Meg’s about to say is going to be pretty serious. “She’s uh…she’s worse than she was in the spring. Her hair, it’s…like completely gone now.”
“Yeah,” Jo nods solemnly. “She sent me a selfie after you shaved it off for her.”
“I know, it’s just…seeing it in person. It’s a lot. I just want you to be prepared.”
Jo doesn’t really know how to take that. “Okay. Thanks.”
Meg’s right though, Jo realizes as she makes her way through the front door where Beth is waiting. It is a lot.
It’s been six months now since Beth’s diagnosis and nothing about it has been easy, but this feels like a whole new level. It’s not even the lack of hair that’s most shocking to Jo, but how pale she’s grown. It makes everything stand out even more: the dark circles under her eyes, the veins Jo can see through her scalp, the horrible port she has to have stuck in her chest. Fuck cancer.
“I look like shit, I know.” Beth has always self-deprecated to an alarming degree.
“No, no,” Jo half-heartedly tries to insist. “You look great, um…I bet all the haute couture girlies are gonna be rocking chemo ports next season.”
“You’re such a fucking liar,” Beth smiles, pulling her into a hug. Even through the worn hoodie she’s wearing (apparently cancer makes you really cold all the time) Jo can feel her sister’s ribs. Seriously, fuck cancer.
“Where’s Dad and Marmee?” Jo asks when they pull apart (Marmee was Amy’s failed attempt at pronouncing “Mommy” when she was two. Like everything else in the March family, it stuck).
“They’re showing Amy what they’ve done to the garden.”
“Oh, okay, come on.” Jo tries to lead her out, but Beth shakes her head, staying put.
“I burn really easily now, it’s better if I stay out of the sun.”
Jo pretends not to see the really sad look Meg is giving her. “Right, okay.”
So, she heads out the back door alone, repressing the past two minutes and burying it deep down, throwing her hands up in the air and proclaiming, “The gayest March daughter has arrived!” as she reaches the garden (she ignores Amy’s immediate eye roll).
Her parents, at least, look good, each taking their turn to hug her and kiss her on the cheek, her mother asking if she’s had anything to eat, her father asking if she has read any of the five articles he’s already sent her since she left her apartment this morning.
“I just sent this one about the bee crisis and its effect on our food sources – “ he drones on. Apparently, their father was the most beloved AP Bio teacher in the history of Massachusetts public schools, if the awards and fan letters from his students over the years was anything to go by. Unfortunately for him, none of his daughters really cared very much at all about anything scientific.
“Uh huh, Dad, yeah, I’ll read it this week,” she says, mainly to appease him. She glances over at her youngest sister, before pulling her in for a half-hearted hug. Cause well, she is almost thirty, maybe it’s time for Jo to start being the bigger person. “Uh, hey, Amy. Long flight from Paris?” she asks awkwardly.
“Eight hours,” Amy confirms.
Jo grimaces. “Ugh, yikes. I hope you at least had some headphones.”
A strangled look crosses Amy’s face. “What?”
“I just forgot mine, it was a whole thing, it – it doesn’t matter, never mind. How’s uh, how’s school?” Jo figures that’s pretty safe at least. If there’s anything Amy loves to talk about, it’s her overpriced doctoral program at that pretentious French art school Jo always purposely mispronounces the name of.
That does at least get Amy going, as she excitedly starts talking all about technical skills and modern materials and a bunch of other stuff Jo really could care less about, but for a brief second there, Jo’s really proud of herself for being so mature and engaging with her sister.
She then of course immediately makes a big show of fake yawning and ruins it.
---
At seven o’clock on the dot they all crowd around the dinner table, feeling just like old times, except John’s here too. Marmee makes her famous chicken parm, Dad makes his classic baked potatoes, two things that probably shouldn’t be eaten together, but despite mean old great Aunt March’s (her real name was Josephine too, but they’ve always just called her Aunt March) constant nagging and disapproval, the March family has never cared about what’s proper.
They’re halfway through dinner when the doorbell rings, the girls all looking around in confusion. “Who would try to come over at dinnertime?” Jo asks through a mouth full of baked potato.
“Oh, that would be Laurie,” Marmee smiles. “I invited him over.”
“Teddy?” Jo blinks back in shock. “I thought he was on his endless lost weekend in Europe,” she adds dumbly.
“He came back early,” Marmee tells her. Tension starts to settle in Jo’s shoulders. “He was going to come the day before the wedding, but I guess he grabbed an earlier flight.”
Theodore Laurence (he was from Old Money hence the last name that’s really a first name, although everyone called him “Laurie”, except Jo, who called him “Teddy”) was Jo’s very best friend since middle school and an honorary member of the March family, as Meg had pointed out when she had told Jo she was going to invite him to her wedding three months prior. Jo wasn’t a monster, so she of course told Meg it was fine, and they could get past any awkwardness.
The awkwardness being that after a decade of a friendship that involved everything from putting on horrible plays as children to sneaking cigarettes and getting matching tattoos during their angsty phase to jointly deciding to go to NYU together, Teddy decided to tell Jo their senior year of college that he was hopelessly in love with her. Jo responded by telling him she was a lesbian. He fucked off to Europe after graduation and things had never been the same between them since.
Jo glances helplessly around the table, her father shrugging, John giving her an encouraging smile, Meg and Beth both giving her sympathetic looks, Amy refusing to meet her eye, and realizes she’s on her own here.
Marmee goes to let him in, and for a moment there, it really does feel like everything is just how it was, back when they were kids and Teddy used to come over to eat dinner with them practically every night. He goes down the table, greeting everyone individually with a big hug, some of which hold longer than others (Jo’s almost a little shocked at how Amy barely hugs him back for a second before immediately returning to her chicken parm) before he reaches Jo and it gets awkward again.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Did you read the Vulture piece about how The Bear shot that episode in a single take?” he asks her. When they do talk, over DMs or texts when they’re not sending each other memes or TikToks, it’s pretty much just this. Shallow pop culture references because they’ll probably have the same taste in media until they die.
“Are you kidding? Of course I have. I’m going to go as Carmy for Halloween.”
“Shut up, no you’re not.”
“I swear to God!” Jo insists.
At least they can still pretend nothing’s changed.
---
The first thing Jo does every morning, before she checks her texts or emails or gets sucked into that day’s Twitter discourse, is do a Duolingo lesson. Partly to keep her streak going before the day really gets going and she forgets, but also partly to get the early bird reward later in the day.
So, she does a lesson (she’s currently trying out Greek, mainly so she can gossip with the bitchy old ladies who run the diner across the street back in Bushwick), only to find she’s been paired up on a Friends Quest with Amy for the week. Which isn’t surprising, as it’s been happening like every other week at this rate. That’s maybe the one thing they both have in common: they’re both ridiculously into Duolingo.
After almost an hour of messing around on her phone (and cuddling with the cats), Jo finally drags herself out of bed and leaves the comfort of the converted attic that’s served as her bedroom since she was a teenager. She heads downstairs to the kitchen, where Meg’s made her famous chocolate chip pancakes for everybody. She sits down across from her parents, both reading different sections of the paper (yes, the Marches still get an old-fashioned newspaper delivered in 2022). A luxury for a weekday, but that’s the best part about being a teacher as her parents used to joke: summer vacation never stops. (Never mind that this meant summer vacations were often the most stressful times for the family. Usually, both her parents would often take on a part time gig to help make ends meet).
Amy stumbles down the stairs after a bit, hair falling out of her braids, looking messy and unkept in a way Jo hasn’t seen her in since she was still a teenager. It’s almost cute. And then Jo notices the oversized T-shirt she went to sleep in.
“Hey guys, where did Amy go to college again?” Jo asks, pretending to think about it, making a big show of stroking her chin and everything.
“I’m too jet-lagged for this bit,” Amy groans as Meg hands her a plate.
“I think it started with a – with a W maybe? Or a Z? One of those Avant Garde letters at the end of the alphabet.”
“Shut up, Jo.”
“Where was it again? Hartford? Bridgeport? I can’t remember, it’s right on the tip of my tongue.”
“I went to Yale, asshole,” Amy snaps at her over a mouthful of pancakes.
“Never heard of it.”
“Jo, I think you’ve teased her enough,” Marmee gently chides.
“We’re on a Friends Quest again,” Amy tells her, already pretending the past sixty seconds didn’t happen. “You better hold up your end, I need those hundred gems.”
“I always do.” And that’s when Jo realizes there’s someone missing from the breakfast table. “Wait, where’s Beth?”
“She’s asleep.” Jo doesn’t like the look her parents exchange at that. Or Marmee’s tone.
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“Beth never sleeps in,” Amy says dumbly.
“Well, she’s uh…she’s started to,” Dad tells them. “The chemo and everything…she sleeps a lot now.”
Breakfast is a pretty dour affair after that.
---
Beth finally does get herself out of bed at half past eleven and everyone (well, minus Dad) heads to town so Meg can do her final fitting.
Meg didn’t want to go overboard with her dress (or any details of the wedding really, which is why they were having it in the backyard of Orchard House), preferring to put the money towards the honeymoon instead, but Marmee, in all her wisdom, had still insisted that Meg have her dress professionally tailored instead of wearing it right off the rack.
All this to say, there’s no fancy boutique with champagne and strawberries and chocolate cake like Jo had seen in the movies, just the old tailor’s shop the March family had been going to for years to get their clothes patched (besides, they’re all wearing masks).
But then Meg steps out from the dressing room and everyone oohs and awes and they might as well be in that movie anyway.
“Oh Meg, you look so gorgeous!” Beth cries, clapping her hands together.
“Magda, you’ve truly outdone yourself,” Marmee compliments, patting the arm of the old woman.
Amy starts going off about fashion history and trends and how Meg’s dress is a timeless classic, but Jo tunes out, starting to feel a little fuzzy.
She kind of can’t believe this is really going to happen.
---
After they get back from the fitting, Jo manages to convince Beth to drive her out to Burlington so she can pick up a new pair of headphones. Admittedly, it’s kind of a waste of twenty bucks considering the ones she lost are almost certainly just sitting on her nightstand back in Bushwick, but she really doesn’t want to go through the rest of the week without them.
When they get to the Apple store, Jo beelines to the accessories, in total tunnel vision mode, only for Beth to pull on her sleeve. “Laurie’s here!”
“Wait, what?” Before Jo can even really react, Teddy’s noticed them, making his way over.
“Well, hello.” Jo can tell that Teddy is smiling through his mask. He pretends to take a bow, before lightly tugging on the bill of Beth’s baseball cap, making her giggle. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing half of the March sisters today?”
“Jo lost her headphones.”
“Now that’s a coincidence,” Teddy laughs, flashing the box in his hand.
“Ugh, AirPods?” Jo groans.
“What, what’s wrong with AirPods?” Teddy asks, looking genuinely confused. Sometimes Jo forgets just how much of a rich kid he really is.
“They’re so horrible for the environment. You can’t even put them in the trash cause the batteries catch on fire and they transmit waves through your brain. Also, they’re stupid and pretentious and overrated,” Jo shrugs. “Also, Amy loves them,” she adds with an eye roll, as if that’s enough of a reason to think they’re overrated.
Teddy looks back at her with a strange expression. “Right…well. Um, I told my grandfather I’d have dinner with him tonight, but can we try to catch up this week Jo? Just the two of us?” He scratches behind his ear, which has always been his tell that he’s nervous.
“Uh, sure. Maybe. I’m not sure what my schedule’s like with the wedding stuff and all, but yeah, maybe, sure. I’ll text ya.” She flashes finger guns at him for a reason she doesn’t even understand. “See ya around, buckaroo.”
Beth laughs as Jo pulls her away towards the Genius Bar. “Buckaroo?”
“Shut up.”
---
The next day, Jo gets a harsh reminder as to why her and Amy came back to Concord a full week before the wedding: Meg and John needed their free labor.
They spend the entire day turning the backyard into a romantic wedding venue, John and Dad and Jo doing the heavy lifting of the chairs and tables and altar they had rented, Marmee and Beth and Meg arranging the flowers and the fairy lights, draping them over absolutely everything, and Amy, well. Amy does what she does best: oversees.
Afterwards, John and Meg order pizzas as a thank you, although Jo can’t help but complain that Concord pizza doesn’t even begin to compare to the pizza back in New York.
“And you say I’m the snob,” Amy smirks. Jo sticks her tongue out at her.
---
Even though she was technically the maid of honor, Jo had handed all bachelorette party planning duties over to Amy. Jo wasn’t even going to begin to pretend she understood what a straight woman would want to do on her last night of freedom from a man (or, well, last few nights. They wanted to make sure there was enough time to recover from their sure to be massive hangovers before the wedding).
They had offered to do a sober option for Beth instead, a painting party or an escape room or something, but Beth had insisted they not make any special accommodations for her, assuring them she was more than happy to be their designated driver for the night. “And hey, if I’m really feeling left out, I’ll just smoke some weed instead,” she had joked. So that was that.
Jo had always thought of Amy as being very classy, so color her surprised when Amy produces out of thin air a tacky tiara and sash for Meg, as well as five bridesmaid sashes for everyone else (Meg’s oldest friends Sallie and Annie were joining them for the bachelorette party as well). And then instead of taking them to some cool secret speakeasy like Jo had expected, Amy has Beth drive them to a strip club instead.
“Don’t worry, Jo,” Amy winks at her. “It’s a multi-gendered strip club.” Which is really not a sentence Jo had ever expected to hear from her baby sister.
As soon as they set foot into the strip club, Jo realizes she’s going to have to get very, very drunk if she even has a hope of enjoying this night.
“How on Earth did you even find this place?” Jo asks Amy incredulously.
“Oh, I have my ways…” Amy smiles mysteriously. “Come on, Meg, let’s buy you a lap dance.”
Yeah, that settles it. Jo’s going to need to black out tonight.
---
It’s three rounds of tequila shots and a gin and tonic later, and Jo’s feeling pretty good if she does say so herself.
Maybe a little too good.
She leans her head onto Beth’s shoulder to prevent the spinning that’s suddenly taken hold of her, only sort of watching as a dancer named Mandy does a routine that involves way too many props.
She reaches her hand up, fingering the patterned piece of cloth covering the lower half of Beth’s face. “It sucks that you can never take a night off from this.”
Beth attempts to shrug, only Jo’s still got her head on her shoulder. “It is what it is.” It is what it is might as well be Beth March’s damn motto at this point, but this is the most resigned Jo’s ever heard her say it.
“Are you having fun?” Jo asks, only slightly slurring. “Be honest.”
“I – it doesn’t matter. Cause look how much fun Meg’s having,” she says, pointing over towards the stage where Meg and her friends are laughing hysterically as they spray dollar bills at each other. Jo really hopes that’s their money and they didn’t drunkenly grab that off the stage.
Jo sits up suddenly, head spinning even more. “Where’s Amy?”
“Relax,” Beth sighs. “She’s back at the bar.”
Jo follows to where Beth’s pointing, watching as Amy slurps a neon blue colored liquid from what might as well be a fishbowl. “Oh god.” Jo shakily pushes herself up onto her feet and makes her way over to Amy, yanking the straw out of her mouth. “We wanted to have fun tonight, not take you to get your stomach pumped.”
To Jo’s great horror, Amy immediately bursts into tears.
“Why do you hate me?” Amy wails.
“I don’t hate you,” Jo insists, baffled by this turn of events.
“Yes, yes you do! You’ve always hated me, ever since I did what I did. You’ve never really forgiven me.”
Ever since I did what I did meaning the time Amy wiped Jo’s hard drive when she was thirteen, erasing every story Jo had ever written up until that point, all out of revenge for Jo refusing to let Amy tag along with her to a high school party.
And yeah, okay, Jo’s still a little salty about it. It was a dick move. But also, Amy is now twice that age and it would be absolutely silly to hate her for something she did while she was still in her Justin Bieber phase.
“Amy, Amy, look at me,” Jo insists again, taking Amy’s face in her hands. “I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit. I could never.”
“But you’re so mean to me,” Amy continues to wail. “You always roast me!”
“I roast everybody,” Jo tries to counter. “It’s kind of my thing.”
“You roast me the most though,” Amy pouts. Which, okay. Fair.
“I - I don’t know. I guess…I guess I always thought you thought you were better than me. So, I had to take you down a peg.”
“That’s stupid. How could I ever think that?”
“You’re right,” Jo agrees. “That is stupid. I’m really sorry, Amy.” She pulls her sister into a hug, stroking the back of her head like she used to do when they were kids.
And of course, that’s the moment “Pony” by Ginuwine starts blaring.
“Alright, we really need to get the fuck out of here.”
---
Surprising no one, everyone besides Beth wakes up massively hungover.
Marmee and Dad are at least more amused than anything else, making the girls all their favorite greasy foods, bacon and hash browns and scrambled eggs. Beth makes some sort of green concoction that she forces them to take sips of, but all it does is make Jo want to gag.
They set themselves up in the den and have a movie marathon, rewatching all their favorites from girlhood, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Bend it Like Beckham, and A Cinderella Story. They get lost in the stories they know and love so well, so it’s only when the sun starts to set that Jo notices Beth has gone missing.
It’s never hard to find her though. Jo listens from the doorway of the living room as Beth plays a tune on the piano Teddy’s grandfather had gifted her way back when. It’s beautiful, and surely something Jo has heard Beth play a thousand times before, but Jo doesn’t know enough about classical musical to be able to name it.
It’s only when Beth finishes that Jo approaches her, knowing better than to interrupt her mid-song. She takes a seat next to her on the bench, pushing the tabby cat that had curled up next to Beth into her lap, wrapping an arm around Beth’s bony shoulders. “You could’ve gone pro, you know.”
Beth shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. I love where I ended up though.” And that’s when Jo notices something colorful peeking out from behind the sheet music.
“What’s this?” Jo asks, mostly rhetorically, because she grabs it and opens it before Beth even says anything. Feel better soon, Ms. March, we’ll miss you it reads back to her. Jo drops it on the piano keys, as if it’s burned her.
“My students back in Boston gave that to me,” Beth tells her quietly. “Before I left.”
“That was sweet of them.”
“I really miss my old life, Jo.” Beth looks so much like a wounded puppy in that moment, it makes Jo’s stomach turn.
“Well,” Jo starts, forcing a smile. “This is all just temporary. Until you get better.”
“Jo…”
And that’s all it really takes for Jo to start crying. Beth wraps her up in her arms, planting a kiss on the top of her head.
“This is – you shouldn’t be the one comforting me. I’m sorry.” Jo pulls away and attempts to wipe her tears away with the back of a hand, as if the tears not being there would make all of this not exist anymore.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Typical Beth. “Really!” She insists when Jo gives her a skeptical look.
“You’re the best of us, you know that?”
“Well. I always thought so.”
Jo snorts so hard, it sets Beth off into a round of giggles.
It’s almost as beautiful as her piano playing.
---
Teddy corners Jo at the rehearsal dinner as soon as he spots her, pulling her away from her conversation with John’s parents, which honestly, isn’t the biggest travesty in the world. They’re nice people but are both accountants for god’s sake. Enough said there.
“You’ve been blowing me off all week, Jo!” Which, well, yeah, she has. He’s texted her every day since the Apple store and she’s made up an excuse each time, not wanting to face him. Or maybe, being too cowardly to.
“Teddy, do we really have to do this now? In the middle of the rehearsal dinner?”
“No, we didn’t have to, but you haven’t given me much of a choice!” Jo sighs, looking away. “You – you don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I really don’t want to rehash the past again. Not right now.”
“And you think that’s what I want? Jo, come on, give me a little more credit. That was seven years ago! You’re gay, I get it, I’ve moved on – “
“So, I’ve heard – “
“That’s…that’s not fair,” he frowns and shuts his eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That – it was a rough patch. I’m past that, I’m past all of this – “
“Okay, I get it.”
“No, no, I don’t think you do! I…god, this conversation really is not going the way I wanted it to go.”
“How did you want it to go?” she challenges.
“I…” He sighs, looking over her shoulder at something, but when Jo turns to follow his gaze, she just sees her sisters, watching them and making no attempt at hiding it. “Look uh…it doesn’t matter. Or at least, you’re right, maybe. Now isn’t the time. I just…I miss how things used to be. Before I ruined it, I guess.”
Jo should probably tell him that he didn’t ruin anything. But that would be a lie. She does tell him one truth though.
“I miss how things used to be too.”
---
Despite her intense conversation with Teddy in the middle of the restaurant’s outdoor patio, the rest of the dinner actually goes pretty smoothly, all things considered.
The Marches and the Brookes are the last to leave, of course, John’s parents paying the bill, as Marmee compliments the owner for a beautiful night, Dad wordlessly placing her jacket on her shoulders behind her.
Jo stands off to the side with Beth, the two wordlessly scrolling on their phones next to each other as they wait for Meg and John to sappily say their goodnights. Jo looks up right as they share a kiss, pretending to gag once they’re done and Meg glances their way.
“Alright, alright,” Meg sighs as she makes her way over to them. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, I don’t know where Amy went though. Maybe inside or something.”
Meg shakes her head. “Oh, she left a little bit ago. Said she wanted to walk home, enjoy the summer air.”
“What? Why would she want to do that? That’ll take her like an hour.”
But Meg just shrugs.
---
The morning of the wedding the March family enters full chaos mode, although Jo would’ve expected nothing less.
They wake up early to put the finishing touches on the backyard, adding tablecloths and centerpieces, before the caterers show up and start adding the rest, place settings and glasses and what not.
And then comes the biggest hiccup of the morning: the shower schedule. Four girls sharing a single bathroom had always been an absolute nightmare, but today might as well be the day from hell. No one gets a lick of privacy, as whoever is not in the shower is fighting for a place in front of the mirror at any given time.
But eventually they do all end up looking presentable, in their matching dresses and flower crowns that Marmee declares “just darling”. But of course, none of them compare to Meg, who even in a non-designer dress and hair and make-up done by her own hand, still looks like she could be on the cover of a bridal magazine.
There’s only fifteen minutes left until the wedding when Jo finds herself alone with Meg for the first time in days.
Meg’s staring at herself in front of the full-length mirror, scrutinizing, smoothing invisible wrinkles and flyaway hairs as if her life depends on it.
“Meg, calm down, you look perfect.”
“I know, I know. I’m just like…so nervous.”
And that’s the moment Jo choses to let her mouth off. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s not too late. We can still run off and you can go be that girl you always dreamed about being when we were kids.”
Meg spins around, eyes impossibly wide, as if she can’t believe what she just heard. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
But Jo just digs the hole deeper. “It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore, you know? The car, the job, living in Concord, this wedding – God, this wedding! What happened to the girl who dreamed of getting married at the Plaza? What happened to the girl who wanted a one-of-a-kind Vera Wang dress? You – you wanted to be a star, Meg!”
“Yeah, when I was like fourteen,” Meg counters. “But then I grew up!”
“No, then you got boring! Or you settled for boring.”
Meg gapes, mouth hung open in complete disbelief. “I thought you liked John?”
“I do like John, he’s great, but I mean come on, Meg. There must be a reason you’ve put off marrying him for so long. You’re only doing it now because you can’t stand the idea of Beth not being at your wedding.”
“I didn’t put off marrying him. We decided to wait to get married, together. Engagement rings, weddings, honeymoons…they’re all so expensive. And there was always something. One of our cars would need repairs, our student loan payments increased, our old building went condo and we had to move somewhere with higher rent, John had to have that sinus surgery…and we were fine with it. We felt as good as married anyway. But yes,” Meg sighs, eyes casting downward for a moment as her voice softens. “You’re right. When Beth got sick it changed things. Reminded me that life is short, and I didn’t want to wait to legally call him my husband anymore. He’s the love of my life, Jo. I don’t care that I’m not getting married at the Plaza. We could get married at a garbage dump and it wouldn’t matter to me, not as long as he was the one waiting for me at the end of the aisle.”
Jo sighs, looking out the window at the guests arriving, only for Meg to move closer towards her, forcing her to give her full attention again.
“Look, I know it bothers you that the rest of us followed in Dad and Marmee’s footsteps. Hell, Amy’s getting a PhD and even that doesn’t impress you! I just…you and I both know Amy is very talented. But if she says she’s suited to be the foremost expert in Art History instead, who are we to say that’s wrong? You always tell Beth she could’ve ‘gone pro’ but Beth would’ve hated being on a stage. She loved being able to help others hone their talents instead. And yes, I liked the idea of being a big star. In the abstract. But to have actually moved to LA and spent all my time in traffic driving from one audition to another only to get told I’m very talented but they can’t cast me because the leading man is shorter than I am…I don’t want that. I love my job and my students and John and my life here in Concord. I’m happy, Jo. I really, really am. Why can’t you just accept that the rest of us want different things out of life then you do?”
“I – I don’t know,” Jo shakes her head furiously. “I really don’t. You…you do seem happy. All of you do. Or at least, Beth did, before…”
“And are you happy, Jo?” Meg asks so softly she might as well be whispering.
Jo thinks about it for a long moment. “Sometimes…sometimes I think that’s the sacrifice you make. When you devote your life to your craft. You’ll never be truly happy, not purely. Because nothing will ever compare, for me, to that feeling of having written, you know? There’s no better feeling in the world. And yet, you’re never satisfied once you do. Cause there’s always room to get better. A part of me wishes…” But Jo can’t even bring herself to finish that thought.
Meg doesn’t need her to though. “Yeah. I know. But…you’ve always been a little different than the rest of us. And I mean that in the best way possible. You have more than just a gift, Jo. You have something that consumes you. Keeps you from sleeping or eating or anything else. That’s not something to be taken lightly.”
Jo just nods, not knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry uh, if I just ruined your wedding – “
Meg laughs and shakes her head. “You absolutely did not. Although if you make me late, you will have, so let’s get going here. Grab my train?”
And Jo does.
---
For a backyard wedding, it sure does end up being not too shabby if Jo dares say so herself.
They drink and they dance and they eat and it’s the kind of magical night that feels as if it’s already a memory before it’s even done happening. Eventually, Jo’s feet start to get sore though, and she takes a seat, popping off her heeled boots and propping her feet up on a chair. She watches from afar as Meg and John dance close and whisper sweet nothings to one another, watches as Beth shares a dance with Teddy’s grandfather, who’s always treated her like his own granddaughter, watches as Teddy makes a big show of trying to get great Aunt March to dance with him.
For a moment there, everything’s absolutely perfect. Jo just wishes it could stay that way.
---
In the interest of trying to be a good sister, Jo had offered for herself to at least attempt to cook the traditional morning after brunch (although she had volunteered Beth and Amy’s services as well, she was trying to be nice, not stupid).
However, when she gets downstairs, she finds only Beth is waiting for her in the kitchen. “Let me guess,” Jo rolls her eyes. “Amy overslept.” This isn’t exactly an unusual occurrence for her.
“I mean, we all had a kinda late night…” Beth tries, but Jo’s not having it.
“Nuh uh. If you made it down here on time, she has no excuse.” Before Beth can say anything more, Jo has bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Wakey wakey Amy, we have waffles to make,” she calls out as she barges in, only to freeze in her tracks.
Amy is not in bed alone.
“What the actual fuck!” Jo cries. “What the fuck, what the fuck!”
“You’re almost thirty years old and you don’t know how to knock?” Amy grumbles, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
Teddy at least has the gall to look caught. “Jo, I can explain – “
“Ugh, you’re a pig! I don’t know what you’ve been doing across the pond, but my baby sister is not just some one night stand you can forget about by tomorrow.”
“No, she is not,” Teddy agrees. “Look, can I put on some pants first before we get into this?”
Jo fights the urge to stab him as she hands him his stupid pants, turning around until he gives her the okay. When she faces them again, Teddy has his pants on, and Amy’s wrapped herself in some silk robe that was probably way too expensive.
“Alright fine. You have one minute to explain.”
“I’m in love with Amy,” is Teddy’s opener. Which, well. Strong start.
“What? How?”
“Laurie and I ran into each other a couple months ago, in Paris,” Amy explains. “And I don’t know, one thing lead to another…”
“So, you’ve been seeing each other in secret for months? How could you not tell me?”
Teddy’s face practically turns purple. “I wanted to tell you in person, Jo! ‘Hey, I’m in love with your sister’ didn’t exactly feel right for the DMs. And then I’ve tried, like all week!”
“I didn’t want to tell you at all,” Amy shrugs. “I knew you’d freak out.”
“Well, you were right. Teddy, look,” Jo lowers her voice, moving in closer to him. “Amy puts on a tough face, but if you break her heart, it’s…it’s gonna crush her.”
“Jo, I’m not gonna do that,” he tells her seriously. “I’ve - I’ve never felt this way before. About anyone. I thought, you know…” Which, yeah. Jo does know. “But I was wrong. What I thought I felt then, it’s nothing compared to this. This is - this is it. I know that now. Jo, I fully intend to marry her one day.”
“Wow,” Jo breathes out, practically in shock.
“You guys know I’m still here and can hear everything you’re saying right?”
“Yes, I know,” Teddy turns toward Amy, smiling fondly. “I’m glad you heard that.”
“If that was supposed to be a marriage proposal, it needs serious work.”
Jo chokes on air.
“It was not, but duly noted, my lady,” Teddy smiles wider, eyes twinkling.
“Ugh, gross. That’s – that’s disgusting.”
Amy looks up at her with big eyes then, the same pleading look in them she used to have when they were kids and she would ask to tag along on whatever Jo was doing that day, just wanting to be close to her big sister. “Are you mad, Jo?”
Jo sighs, glancing between them. “No,” she finally says. She’s surprised to find that she really means it. “I’m happy for you guys that you found each other. I am, really. I just wish I could’ve found out about it in literally any other way.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us!” Teddy groans, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
---
At brunch, everyone is surprised about Teddy and Amy, but no one is shocked.
“I mean, Amy did always have a thing for Laurie,” Marmee points out. Everyone else around the table nods in agreement, while Jo gapes.
“Wait, what?”
But that just makes everyone laugh.
---
After brunch, Dad and Marmee take Meg and John off to the airport for their honeymoon, while Amy and Teddy go off to god knows where, leaving Jo and Beth behind.
Jo helps Beth up the ladder of their clubhouse (which is really just a rickety old treehouse they had all helped their father build one summer), and they sit out, overlooking the yard, legs dangling below as they sip from LaCroix’s and enjoy a beautiful late summer day.
“You know it’d be nice to see you write something you’re passionate about again while I’m still on this Earth,” Beth says pointedly.
“Stop it, you’re not joining the Twenty-Seven Club just yet.”
“I’m serious, Jo. I hate seeing you blocked like this.”
Jo looks away, unable to meet her eye. “I don’t even know what I’d write about.”
Beth shrugs. “Why don’t you write about us?”
Jo looks back at her incredulously.
“Well, now, who would want to read about that?”
Beth just smiles.