Chapter One: No More Running

"Hello?" Rory wedged the cordless between her shoulder and ear.

"Alright, yeah. That's fine. Just come when you're done," she spoke into the phone as she fastened the packing tape on the box labeled "Books." It would be the heaviest box, no doubt about that, but then again it always had been. Rory had never thrown a book out her in life. It was just a rule she had. That, and she always finished her books. If she hated the book more than words could say, if every minute she spent reading it was considered a waste of time, if from page ten she knew there was no way to salvage the ending, she wouldn't quit. Rory had to finish it. She just couldn't leave things left opened or unfinished. An opened wound that would never heal. She never strayed from that rule in all aspects of life, except love. With love, she just couldn't seem to get it right.

As she tossed the phone to the couch, she moved to sit on the taped up box. Rory looked around her apartment and took it all in. Almost everything she owned was in boxes. The walls were bare and boxes were everywhere. Rory let out a deep breath. This was it: she was moving, getting on with her life. Packing up her life in Hartford and moving into the big city.

After just turning 24, Rory realized she was leading a life she didn't want. After graduating college, she moved into an apartment in Hartford to work with her grandfather. She wanted to write. She always had, but when no job offers rolled in after graduation, Rory knew she needed money. Moving to Hartford seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, as she sat among her belongings, thinking of everything that led her to this point, she dreamed up a million other paths she could've wandered down. However that was the past, now she's finally found a job she's excited about.

After submitting articles, past and present, to big name papers, Rory had finally landed a job. And a good job, too. She'd be moving to New York to work at the New York Post. It wasn't a headlining job or anything, she wouldn't be writing her own column, but nonetheless it was decent. Better than being her grandfather's secretary, that's for sure.

He lived in New York. She knew he did, but that wasn't why she was going. Or at least that's what she told herself. Rory looked down at her watch and then glanced back up at living room. Boxes always seemed to remind her of him. Maybe it's because he always left without a word. She'd always been afraid to pack up and move somewhere because she didn't want to be like him. Running when things got tough. But then again, she led him to it. Rory knew she did and she felt badly about it, but that's done. That's all in the past. She decided she was going to pack him up like an old box. Just tape it shut and tuck it away. Allow it to collect dust, never to be opened again. She had to move on. He was slowly breaking her and she knew it. Despite it all, part of her thought she deserved it. She broke him, that was for certain.

Rory was torn from her thoughts by a knock at the door. Thankful for the distraction, she rose to go open it.

"Hey, I brought some more boxes."

"Thanks Melinda, here I'll take them." Rory took the boxes as Melinda walked in and made herself at home.

"Wow, you got a lot done last night," Melinda said as she looked around.

"Yeah, I really just have my closet and probably half of my bedroom left."

Melinda's eyes lit up, "Ahh, the good stuff! Can I have the clothes you don't fit in anymore?"

Rory let out a laugh, "We'll see." Melinda was always good for a laugh, and that's what first drew Rory to her. She'd met Melinda shortly after she started college while she was at one of her grandparent's fund-raisers. Melinda had grown up in the next town over. After meeting, Rory was actually surprised that they had never met before. Being that she was the daughter of a wealthy family, attended a prestigious private school, and was dragged to countless debutante balls, Rory would've guessed that their paths had crossed at least once.

"So where do you want to start?"

"I guess I'll start over here, while you pick over my clothes," Rory sighed, tired.

"Yes!" Melinda exclaimed, "perk up Ror," she said with a smile as she opened the closet, "giving to charity should be fun."

"I highly doubt you are considered charity, Mel."

Melinda shrugged, "Whatever the cause, you definitely need a pick-me-up."

Rory nodded, "Yeah. I think the coffee is still on… you want any?" she asked with one foot out the door.

"Nah, I'm just fine," Melinda replied with a grin, taking in all the depths of Rory's pathetic, 2 by 4 foot, closet.

"AWE! Cute…. yes!" Melinda squealed numerous times as she journeyed through Rory's shoe collection, spotting cute shoes and pleasantly finding that they were just her size. After shopping for about twenty minutes Melinda came to an interesting looking box. It looked worn and the print on the sides was faded. Obviously it had been through a lot. Melinda grew excited at the possibilities. Maybe they were vintage, perhaps from the '50's. Maybe she got them from her grandmother and they had been in the family for years. "Hopefully Rory's done with these!" she thought to herself as she reached in and brought the box to her lap.

Opening the box, Melinda found something she wasn't quite expecting. Letters, a necklace, a small book, and a small leather jewelry box. Out of curiosity, she quickly reached for the jewelry box and opened it. Inside was a beautiful, glinting ring. Melinda gasped; if she hadn't known better she would've thought it was an engagement ring. After feeling as if she completely invaded her best friend's privacy, she placed the ring back in its place. She tried to close the box, she really did, but then she spotted the letters. Looking around, Melinda reached in. After unfolding the letter, she heard footsteps down the hall. Silently cursing herself, Melinda caught the last few words on the page and then folded it back as she found it. The footsteps grew louder as Melinda shut the shoebox and placed it back in the closet. "Shit, shit, shit," she singsonged, trying to open another box of shoes, so she didn't look, or feel, so guilty. It had said, "A lifetime would not be enough…" and was signed "Jess". "But who the hell is Jess?" Melinda thought to herself. She wracked her brain, trying to remember old boyfriends that Rory had talked about, but nothing was coming to mind. Suddenly, Rory walked in.

"Find anything yet?" Rory asked, mug in hand.

With her back to Rory, Melinda just motioned toward a stack of boxes.

"I'm hoping those are the ones you don't want," Rory said as she glanced at what looked like her entire shoe collection.

"No, those are the ones I hope you're done with."

"Mel, are you kidding?" she laughed, "Those are all the shoes I currently own."

Melinda turned around, scooting to sit against the bed. "New city, new look. You can't possibly wear these in the city. You'll look out of fashion and out of date."

"Mel," Rory smiled, sitting down on the floor next to her. As she took a sip of coffee, Rory studied her friend. "Are you alright? You look a little pale."

"Oh me?" Melinda laughed, suddenly feeling giddy. "Oh no, I'm fine. Just shopping. And I looooove shopping! Shopping, Shopping, Shopping!"

Rory's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "When I left here twenty minutes ago you were fine, what did you do?"

"Nothin' Ror. You just have really nice shoes."

"Alright, then," Rory said, scooting over toward her nightstand. "I'm going to get started over here."

"Okay, I'll just keep admiring your shoes, I guess," Melinda replied. She went through the two boxes stacked above the box and paused before taking it out. As she held it in her lap, Melinda took a deep breath before calling to Rory.

"Huh?" Rory snorted a reply, her back to Melinda

"Umm… who's Jess?" Melinda asked slowly, trying to let each word sink in before following it with another.

Rory and Melinda turned toward each other at the same time.

"Jess?" Rory asked, her eyes growing big. She hadn't heard that name said out loud in more than five years. Until then, he had just been in her memory, or words read on paper. But now it was out, and there was no running from it.

Please review and tell me what you think so far. It was just an idea, so we'll see how it goes.