Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl in any way, shape, or form. I just like writing about it.
Note: The "You're the cheese to my macaroni" line is taken from the film Juno.
Enjoy. Happy reading!
But When We Were Young
Gossip Girl
Rufus/Lily
Chapter One: Remembering the Past Affects Our Future
If loving someone so much that it causes pain in your chest, I should know. Loving, and then leaving Rufus was one of the hardest things to do in my adolescent life. To be honest, I was a wild child and my mother didn't like it. I lived like I was part society, part rocker groupie. Rufus was Rod Stewart to my Rachael Hunter (okay, bad example, but you get the idea). We were desperately in love and my mother didn't like it. She believed I should marry for money, and Rufus certainly didn't have any. So I had to choose: lose my inheritance versus lose the love of my life. At nineteen, I knew I would fall in love again.
I met my husband Andrew at a charity function my mother was throwing. He was turning thirty and had never been married, and that same year I was turning twenty-two. He was handsome. He had thick, wavy, dark brown hair and hazel eyes, the gold flecks sparkling in the moonlight, and distinguished jaw line and soft chin and nose. My mother loved him dearly, which was partly because all the other mothers wanted him for their daughters. She was also over-the-moon that by twenty-eight he was making hundreds of thousands a year and knew how to save. From the moment she introduced us she was planning the wedding. But it wasn't until he told me that I was the cheese to his macaroni (cheesy, I know) that I knew I was in love.
Andrew and I were married within a year of courtship. My mother wanted me off of her hands as soon as possible. He gave her that luxury. By the time our first born, Serena came into the world (which wasn't too long after) that I stopped talking to my mother period. I was still confused over the Rufus thing, and ecstatic about the getting-married-thing and decided to talk to her about it later. Anyways, I was a beautiful bride, if I do say so myself. I had lightly curled my pale blonde hair and swept it up, my modest dress really was modest and my veil only covered part of my face. My father kissed my temple, wished me all the happiness in the world and sat back down with my mother who was crying in the background. And don't worry, it was tears of joy at seeing her baby marry so well, not tears of anguish, which she would have surely displayed had I continued to date and eventually marry poor Rufus, who was poor Rufus in both senses of the word.
Rufus, I reluctantly have to admit, didn't do so badly either. By the time that he and his wife, Alison were having marital problems, I was already three years single. I haven't been married to Andrew for quite some time now; he died five years ago from cancer, but I will always be married to him in my heart. Despite what people might have thought, I did love Andrew, with all my heart, and when he died, without even meeting his newborn son, Eric, I was devastated. He'd always wanted a son.
Today is my birthday, and despite that it is a milestone, forty years, I am celebrating alone with a glass of wine. In the back of my closet, hiding behind all my clothes are pictures from my groupie days. Most of the pictures are of Rufus' performances, but there are some concert pamphlets, ticket stubs, mementos from our time together and pictures of us acting extremely goofy. By the time ten o'clock rolls around I've had over half of the bottle and feeling a little sleepy when the doorbell rings.
Behind the door is Rufus and he is holding a beautiful arrangement of flowers and a box of my favourite chocolates, and he is standing in front of me. All I can do is lean on the doorway smiling at him goofily. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" I remember him leaning towards me seductively. As I pull myself to one side to let him in, I see that a couple buttons to his button-down shirt are undone and I can see his tanned skin underneath. When I start to sway, Rufus takes the glass of wine from my hand and puts it down. He lifts me up and walks me to my room. Or a room that he thinks is mine. But since I'm inebriated I'm not in the mood to care. It's a bit of a struggle, but I'm able to sit up on my own. I rest my hand, gently, on Rufus' chest and lean into him to whisper in his ear. "This is the best birthday ever," I say as I begin to unbutton his shirt. But he stands up. "What are you doing?" I ask him. He looks angry now. "I could ask you the same question…You're drunk and your hitting on me." It's my turn to act angry and self-righteous, "This is the way you like women. Drunk and half naked." He contemplates his response for a moment. "You're not half naked." He watches as I begin to undo the buttons of my shirt slowly. "But I could be." Before I can manage the second button, which is caught somewhere within the folds of the shirt, he lays me back down on the bed, kisses my forehead and whispers, "Happy birthday chickadee."
The next morning the sun is streaming into the room from the window, which is partially open, but is also exactly aligned with the bed. I moan, "Please, not today. Not when my head is gonna burst from pain." I manage to lift the pillow on top of my head and fall back to sleep. "Rufus?" I hear my daughter yell, "what are you doing here?" I then hear loud footsteps towards the room and she slams the door open. "What the hell is going on? Why is Dan's father here and why are you in my bed?" I wish I'm alone again. Rufus runs over and whispers in her ear. "She's had a lot to drink. Just leave her alone again." She shrugs him off. "What the hell mom?" She looks incredulous, "Are you sleeping together?"