I'll Be

Author's Note: Inspiration for this song from a Lit YouTube vid called Rory & Jess: Living Proof. I posted the link in my profile, if you want to check it out. Song lyrics are "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain.

Tip for reading: I wrote each section as an excerpt from Jess's "recently published second book". The last isn't part of the book. It's present day [May 2008ish].

Disclaimer: The author of this story (me) does not own the respective characters. She intends no copyright infringement.

-GG-

The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful
Stop me and steal my breath
Emeralds from mountains thrust toward the sky
Never revealing their depth
Tell me that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated
I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above

I think I first fell for your eyes. That captivating bright blue, you know. The family trait. Your mind was the second thing I think; I noticed it with your second and third sentences to me. "Nice to meet you…Oh, I read a lot. Do you read?"

Then you offered me a book – poem, technically. One most people would never think to read unless it was a school assignment. Howl. Now, I can't see that damn book without picturing that scene clearly in my mind's eye.

I couldn't stand to fuck up our relationship by disappointing you when I couldn't get those prom tickets. I guess running away hurt you too.

You know what broke my heart? Seeing you with…Him…Them. Your first boyfriend and then your third, maybe. You know when I'm talking about. That night at your dorm, just a short time after I fucked up for probably the millionth time. I should have stayed after I told you I loved you. Definitely.

I definitely should have hung around. I kind of lost it that night at your dorm. I know you, I do. So, I know you would never leave with me like that. Still, hearing you say no like that hurt. And then…That Jerk…when your life was so screwed up.

He did not deserve you.

The one thing…final straw, I guess they say…was when you showed up at the open house. Screwed that night up for me. I thought I had fixed everything in my life and you had fixed yours. I thought we could stop staring at our shoes and move away from the bench. You were still seeing That Jerk.

I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be love suicide
I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life

I grew up, you know? I made a name for myself, but you still haunt me. My own personal fucked up guardian angel. You never put up those damn pom-poms. I don't think I want you to, after all this will be my second book. Maybe if you stopped coming in to play me, I'd have nothing to write about.

I guess that you'll never read this book. We don't talk. I wonder what we'll do when your mom marries my uncle.

Talk about crazy and fucked up.

I'm in love with the woman who will be my cousin.

Rain falls angry on the tin roof
As we lie awake in my bed
You're my survival, you're my living proof
My love is alive not dead
Tell me that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache, that hang from above

I liked to think we would meet somewhere. You'd have lost That Stupid Jerk; I'd be single. Maybe we would talk, exchange e-mail addresses. Keep in touch and I could prove just how much I've matured. Hey, I could support you now. Huh.

It doesn't matter. You're not seeing The Jerk, or so my dear uncle and my crazy mother say. You didn't want to marry him, but you didn't even want to be with me, so…

First loves are those you remember. No idea who said that, and I'm probably paraphrasing. I can't forget you. And, because you're a part of the insane town my family lives in, I hear all about you. I think you may have been my uncle's first "daughter". Now he has a real one, but you did teach him about girls.

Taught me about growing up and respect. Good old, R-E-S-P-E-C-T. I need to respect myself and other people. Those damn pom-poms again. Saying I could be better. I am better, but it doesn't seem to matter anymore.

I'll see you soon.

I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be love suicide
I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life

Uncle Dearest told me you write for an online magazine. Campaign stuff. Really, I could care less about this crazy Obama-Clinton conflict. I voted, my part is done, just pick someone so we can vote for President.

I still read your articles and blog everyday. I may not be your biggest fan – always going to be your mom – but I'm trying my best. I could probably name every city you've had to visit and every book you've read along the way.

The ones I hadn't read I found. I reread some, just like you. Pride and Prejudice. Catch-22 and Closing Time. Lone Survivor. I Am the Cheese. You needed to read Hemingway. Yeah, The Old Man and the Sea sucks. Did you ever try The Sun Also Rises or Hills Like White Elephants?

He writes for men. But some things ring true for men and women, especially in this day and age. You pulled out books for a younger audience. Hatchet. Boys' book if I've ever read one.

I've been dropped out, burned up, fought my way back from the dead
Tuned in, turned on, Remembered the things that you said

I got my GED. Never went to college. I've taught some community college courses on writing. Just local stuff. Philly, New York (the Big Apple…God), Boston…Hartford. Never thought I'd head back to the state I supposedly hate, right?

Those crazy pom-poms kept, and keep, pushing me to be better. I guess…I guess what I'm saying is, if you have people like I did. Weirdoes from some small town you were forced to. Your relatives. Maybe, if you're lucky, a great girlfriend. They're not so bad, those damn pom-poms.

You can always write a book about freaks and get it published at the very least.

"I hope you're good. I want you to be good…and…um, okay, so goodbye. That word sounds really lame and stupid right now, but there it is. Goodbye."

I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be love suicide
I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life

To RG, Rory remembers as she closes the new book with a snap. It is the same dedication in both his books. He wrote both about her: their relationship. The first touched more on crazy small town life. This…this book is all about relationships that touch you and inspire you.

She looks up. The book had to have been written months ago, as she no longer had any job. The magazine did not need someone to cover a nonexistent campaign. Andrew is watching her from his perch at the counter. Rory opens to the publishing information. May 19, 2008, she notes.

Out of habit, more than anything, she flips to the back jacket cover. There he is. Good picture of him; definitely more mature with the short hair. The bio is straightforward; it states nothing she doesn't already know.

Jess Mariano lives and works in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He writes about small town life in the same small town he lived in, Stars Hollow, Connecticut. "If you're ever there," he states, "stop into Doose's or the Soda Shop and annoy Taylor for me and my uncle."

-GG-

A/N: Well? How was it? Can you find my hidden "first meeting" reference? Any other hidden references you can find?

I like to think Jess inspired Rory as much as she inspired him. He got her thinking when she had dropped out of Yale, but before that he tried to help her. Driving straight at her screaming in another language?

Edited: 1 March 2009 – ladybug1115