Connecticut Writers
Chapter 1 – Seeing what I didn't expect to see
Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. I also don't own any book or author references, and I'm not in any way associated with Yale University. The bookstore isn't real.
A/N: I was working on "Believe Me, I'll Be There" when I got this idea, so I wrote it. I have several ideas for this, though, and I plan to continue it soon. The next few chapters of Believe Me I'll Be There will be up soon too. This is my first future fic, and basically: Rory was good friends with Jess, but they were never actually together. Jess left (to NY, not CA), they wrote each other sometimes, and now Rory's in graduate school at Yale, living in New Haven. This is sort of introducing everything, but I promise it will get better soon! Also: okay, I know that a first edition Hemingway would be really expensive. But it's not important to the story, so…pretend that 20 dollars is a realistic price. I hope you like this, and please review! ~Arianna
It had taken forever. At least, it seemed like forever to me. I was twenty-four, and after three years, I had finished the book I'd been working on. It was published quietly, but in most bookstores, one could now find Reading this Book, by Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, on the shelves.
I was earning enough money to stay in a small apartment in New Haven, while I studied for my graduate degree in English Literature at Yale. I visited my mom in Stars Hollow as much as I could, but I was busy. I wasn't planning on writing another book anytime soon. I wanted to finish college first. I did know that this was what I wanted to do. It wasn't that I'd given up on my dream of being an overseas correspondent, but writing was good. Really good. And it meant I could spend time in Stars Hollow.
I didn't have a boyfriend, having broken up with Dean at the beginning of my senior year at Chilton. However, I still wrote to Jess occasionally. We were friends. Just friends who didn't see each other very much. And friends who weren't as close as we used to be. I hadn't heard from Jess in a long time.
Studying for a Ph.D. in English Literature was both difficult and interesting, but not as demanding as my first four years of college had been, especially with the work on the book to add to it all. I was working on a paper on the structures of journalism and fictional writing in America, but I still had a few weeks to work on it.
On a weekend in February, tired from hours of typing, I ended up wandering around New Haven, and I found myself in a used bookstore. It was the kind I loved; stacks of books along the walls and in the corners, shelves, filled with novels in almost no order, that towered over me. I went up to the desk.
"Hello," a woman greeted me. She looked about thirty or thirty-five, with brown hair and gray eyes, and she was smiling.
"Hi," I replied, smiling back. "Uh, I hate to ask…but is there a literature section?"
"Sorry, no," she answered. "You pretty much have to take a lucky guess as to where anything is around here."
"Oh, that's fine."
"Great. Yell if you need any help. I'm Melanie."
"I'm Rory," I introduced myself. "Have you been here long? I haven't noticed this place before."
"A few years…I moved from Stanford. How about you?"
"I'm from Stars Hollow." She looked slightly confused, and I tried not to laugh. "It's a small town," I explained. "I'm studying at Yale."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
"So, good luck finding something," Melanie said brightly.
"Thanks." I went over to a shelf in the back of the store and knelt down, searching for something interesting.
I saw a yellowed piece of paper stuck between the pages of one of the books in the next shelf. Curious, I reached over and pulled it out. In messy, bold writing, it said 'first edition.' I smiled. I loved finding stuff like this. It was like finding gold to me. I took the book off the shelf. It was Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. I opened the front cover to see if it really was a first edition. It was. Then I turned the page to look at the print.
And stared at it, shocked. It was something I would never have expected. I read it again, slowly. In handwriting I recognized: This book belongs to Jess Mariano.
How had that gotten here? Why would Jess ever come to New Haven?
To see you, something whispered in my mind. But that couldn't be true. We were just friends, and not even that close anymore… You were almost together. He almost kissed you, right after you broke up with Dean. You thought it wouldn't be right…that's the only reason he didn't… I dismissed that thought. Yeah he had liked me for a while, I knew that. It had been seven years. Supposing he really had come to see me, which I couldn't say I thought he would, he would have found me before he went to donate books. Right?
I found an old copy of The Fountainhead as well, and then I got up to pay for the two books. I was still puzzled about Jess' name in that book. But hey—it was a first edition.
Something moved, across the room. Then someone walked by and left the store, on the other side of the shelf I was looking at. Someone with dark hair, walking quickly, reminding me of someone. I shook my head. It couldn't be. I was just thinking about Jess after finding that book. That was all. There was no way he was here in New Haven now.
I went back up to the front desk.
"Find anything?" Melanie asked.
"It's not hard somewhere like this," I replied, handing her the two novels.
"Definitely not," she agreed, typing them into the register. "So you like to read?"
"I love it," I said enthusiastically. "Always have." I was about to ask her if she knew anyone by the name of Jess Mariano, having not been able to make myself forget the idea yet, but I decided against it. There was always later.
"I recently read this new book," Melanie commented. "It was great…you should check it out. It's not hard to get into, and it's interesting."
"What book?" I asked, wondering if I'd read it.
"Oh—I believe it was called Reading this Book," she told me. "I don't remember the author's name right now."
"By Lorelai Leigh Gilmore," I said, hiding my astonishment.
"That's it. So you've read it?"
I didn't need attention. I could wait until after I had my degree; wasn't so busy anymore. "I've looked over it," I answered.
"I highly recommend it." Melanie glanced at the display on the register, then at the books. "Wow, a first edition."
"Yeah."
"That's twenty dollars." I paid for the books. "Enjoy them."
"I will." I said goodbye to Melanie and walked back to my apartment. Sun was shining through the clouds, and it was cool, but not as cold as a normal Connecticut February.
When I got back, I flipped open my laptop and worked on my paper for a while, then opened The Fountainhead and started reading it again, forgetting, for a while at least, the puzzling name in my other new book. A name I used to know well and used to say a lot. The name of someone who hated The Fountainhead. I laughed at the memory and continued reading.