"Will you marry me?" he says on bent knee.
"YES!" she squeals, her emotions overwhelming her. Composing herself quickly she manages to get out some words in normal pitch again, "Yes, yes, of course."
When he stands she jumps into his arms. "I'll go get the champagne shall I?"
She nods excitedly "I'm going to call my Mother." She scurries around the room frantically.
He heads into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck to sooth where she had grabbed him.
A while later after relaying everything to not only her mother but to almost everyone else she knows too, she puts the phone down and turns to see she is alone still. "Logan?" she goes into the kitchen. The champagne sits on the counter beside the fridge, it rests in a pool of its own condensation. "Logan?" wiping the puddle away she calls for him again.
"Sorry" he comes through the back door, throwing his phone onto the table.
"What were you doing out there?"
"I thought I heard Sadie barking."
She squints "Sadie's upstairs."
"I realised that. Must have been the neighbour's dog. Shall we?" he holds his hand out for her to pass him the bottle.
He pours them a glass and they each take a celebratory sip.
"To the future Mrs Tamsym Huntzberger"
"Mrs Tamsym Huntzberger" her gaze distances whilst she pictures it. "I thought you were never going to ask."
"Well your impatience alters your perception of time." He smiles and takes another sip, he watches her, lingering almost.
...
"Hello." Rory turns to look at Paris and rolls her eyes. "Hello?" she asks a final time then hangs up on the silence.
"So have you decided whether you are coming to my hospital's Christmas party yet?" she sits legs folded on the sofa opening her Chinese take out box, two text books spread open across her lap.
"I don't think I'm going to make it." She opens her food and falls back into the cushions.
"Why?" she barks. "Its on the first of the month; you don't go anywhere, you have no friends and you have no plans. I don't want to be stuck in a room full of old boring men and dull women for a whole evening. Is it so much to ask you come along to spare my sanity?"
"Paris you can't just talk to me the whole evening."
"It's not that I want to talk to you, just you being there severely decreases the chances of one of them approaching me to endlessly dribble about some freak disease that may or may not take hold of the whole of civilisation and then proceed to try and debate how to best treat it."
"That's how you're trying to convince me to go to this thing?"
"Is it because I said you're a no friends hermit?"
"I work from home, Paris; I don't have much reason or time to go out and make emotional bonds with people. Besides I'm perfectly content with my life."
"Whatever gets you through the day."
"Paris" she whines.
"Rory, please."
She sighs giving in, "Fine."
Paris smiles.
...
The same time next week Rory stands, one elbow leaning on the bar, watching two old bearded men in almost identical plaid suits bicker over something she wouldn't be able to pronounce.
Paris knocks into her and huffs throwing her purse down on the counter having just come back from the bathroom. "You could have come with me; I almost got cornered by Sally the chipper intern."
"Complain all you want, going to the bathroom with you is out of this verbal agreement."
"Next time I'll be sure to clarify." She takes a gulp of her drink.
Rory looks back to the men who are still going at it, "They really do that, don't they."
She nods lifelessly in response. "Just like I said. It's sad."
"I'm gonna go." She slides an arm into her jacket and pulls it so it sits right on her shoulders.
"What, now? You can't go yet; I have to stay until they do some crappy award or raffle or something."
"See, if you listened to people when they talk to you, you would know how to correctly finish that sentence."
"I'll listen when they have something interesting to say."
"Drink some more; it won't be so painful."
After worming her way through the crowd of tipsy doctors and nurses she finally is met with a lung full of the crisp night's air. Her thin jacket provides limited protection and eventually the cold sinks through to her pale skin. She folds her arms across her chest but it can only provide so much insulation. She watches her feet, placing them perfectly within the slab squares. Despite the bland party, if you could even call it a party, she appreciates Paris forcing her out. In the last few weeks especially, Paris has been the only person she has spoken to, unless she counts the girl who takes her take-out order over the phone. She has spent more time talking to that girl than she has her own mother. Her mood dips when she realises; maybe she should return one of her calls.
Her phone rings making her jump. She quickly scrambles for it "Hello" Hearing nothing, she places a finger into the opposite ear, "Hello?" Just as she moves the phone to hang up she hears a response.
"Rory" it's quiet.
"Um..yes." she stops walking.
"It's Logan"
"Oh" she draws a long silent breath.
There is a long pause, she picks up on his hesitance. Immediately she bites back the urge to snap at him and instead becomes concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Where are you?" he slurs.
"Have you been drinking?"
"No. Where are you?"
"What do you want, Logan?"
"I just told you. I want to know where you are."
"Logan" she sighs. "Im hanging up"
"No, please, don't. I just want to talk to you. I think I made a mistake, Rory."
She begins walking again. "Are you in trouble? Have you done something?"
"Yes"
There's silence on both ends for a while.
"I just want to talk to you."
"We are talking"
"No, properly. Come on, Ace."
Her next breath seems to cut the back of her throat. "Logan, you're drunk, the mistake you made was calling me." she hangs up on him. The rest of the walk home she debates whether or not she did the right thing cutting him off like that. Fighting back the guilt she concludes he isn't her problem anymore.
…
The next morning the memory of the phone call still haunts her: It mindlessly causes her to knock a coffee mug onto the tile floor, abruptly pulling her from her thoughts, and Paris from her hangover haze.
"Ahh, Rory" she massages her temples.
"Sorry" she starts to clean it up.
"I know what my problem is but you didn't even drink that much, whats up with you?"
"I didn't get much sleep last night."
"Whats bugging you?"
She hesitates for a moment, contemplating if she should confide in Paris. "Just a work thing. Do you want me to make you anything for breakfast?"
"No thanks. Im not ready to eat."
"Im going for a walk"
"Okay" she barely gets it out before the door closes behind Rory.
Its a lot warmer than last night, cold still, but it's bearable. It's not long before she is in the main part of town. Her intentions were those of her usual ones: the bookstore, cafe, music store, etc. Instead, today something steals her attention, it's only for a second, but it's enough to change her mind. She heads into the pet shop, the sights and smells overwhelm her senses straight away. She approaches the girl behind the counter, "Excuse me, you were advertising dogs in your window.."
"Oh, yes, the pups." Her face lights up. "I'll show you. We've sold so many already; they're ridiculously adorable." As they reach the deeper parts of the store the innocent barks of puppies become more distinguishable. "We've got a few breeds at the moment. Any idea what takes your fancy?"
Rory goes to shake her head, but before her brain can send the signal she meets the eye of a perfectly patched beagle behind the perspex, the only one left.
She gasps. "Look at this one. Can I pick it up?'
"Sure. That one is male."
"He's the cutest thing ever, and so small."
"He's got plenty of growing to do yet. So are you interested?"
"Ummm." She thinks about it, she really had no intention of buying a dog when she came in, but he is immediately more comforting that the cold words of books. The thought of putting him back down and leaving him all by himself crushes her. "I'll take him"
"Great" the girl jumps and claps her hands together.
As soon as she begins her way back home its occurs to her what she has done. Paris is never going to let her have a dog in the house. She continues anyway, she can't take him back now. He falls asleep on her arm somewhere along the way, she bought him a lead of course, but fears people won't see him on the ground. In fact, along with the lead, she bought everything for him that she could carry in one go. Bags dangle from the opposite arm and on top of it she balances a doggy bed full of numerous toys and miscellaneous objects. When she reaches her door she has no choice but to knock with her elbow, no available arms or hands leave her unable to reach into her pocket for keys. Paris can be heard shuffling to the other side of the door and she braces herself for impact. Paris' eyes silently roam over Rory's torso, taking in everything. Rory is firstly impressed by the fact she hasn't already slammed the door in her face.
"Hey, Paris." She smiles.
"What is that?"
"Its a dog" she makes her way in.
"Gilmore, tell me you did not just buy that thing. When I said you had no friends I didn't mean for you to go and befriend the animals. You're on a slippery slope."
"Don't refer to Duke as 'thing'." she puts the bed down and brushes everything aside to gently place Duke into it.
"Oh no, you've named it."
"Yes, because Im keeping it. I mean him."
"Fine, just keep it out of my room."
"Him"
"Whatever." She turns the Tv on. "You're phone has been ringing by the way. I shoved it under your mattress because the sound of it was starting to burn my soul."
"Are you implying that you have one?"
She rolls her eyes. "Its probably your Mom. When's the last time you spoke to her?"
"I speak to her all the time"
"Calling her when you know she is busy and then leaving her a voicemail is not talking to your Mother."
"Wha..I..ho..I can't help if she is a busy woman."
"Whatever, Gilmore.'
She swipes her forearm under her mattress and eventually pulls her phone out. One missed call from her Mother. Three from Logan. Two voicemails.
"Hey, Rory, its me. Logan. I, umm, I noticed in my call log I called you last night. And you picked up." He sounds uncomfortable. "I just wanted you to know, I don't…I don't recall anything I said. I don't know why I called you. I guess I had one too many. Umm, Goodbye." The woman introduces the next message. Its him again.
"Im sorry by the way. Thats why I was calling this morning, I don't think I said that in my last message, I wanted to apologise, and its been a while since Ive heard your voice, I guess part of me just wanted to hear you again. Im sorry if I bothered you. I hope you're okay."
It's the first time she's heard his voice too, his proper, sober, voice anyway. She understands where he's coming from, she hadn't realised how much she missed his voice. The sound of paws scraping along the wooden floor slowly draws her out from her trance. Duke explores the hallway of his new home, she gingerly makes her way over to him and picks him up, the small brown dog teddy still swings from his mouth. She places him on her bed and curls up around him. Watching him chew the teddy pups ear amuses her for a while, but her thoughts keep falling back to Logan. Should she return his call?
….
A few days later she and Duke are venturing on their first walk together. It takes them a good half an hour to get to the park with Duke stopping to sniff everything, but eventually they reach the leaf covered green. She sits on a bench, her long coat able to protect her from the cold wood, and puts Duke onto her lap. They sit for a while, Duke clearly amused by all the other dogs but to nervous to try to interact with any of them. Not long after, a German Shepherd free from its lead makes its way up to them and starts sniffing Rory legs and Duke. She twists away, unsure of what to make of her.
"Sadie! Come here." he shouts.
Her eyes freeze on her knees for a moment, then she looks over her shoulder. "Logan"
His mouth opens but nothing comes out. "Sadie!" he calls when he sees her still at Rory's legs.
"Its okay, she's not doing any harm." she reaches out and strokes her head.
"She's a good girl; just too curious." After a small silence he finally speaks "Would you mind if I sit?"
"Of course not. It's not my bench."
He sits. More silence.
"Wow. I don't think I've felt more awkward." He tries to laugh it off.
She laughs a little too. "Im sorry, it's me; I'm not sure how I should act after...you know."
"That phone call?"
"I meant last year, but now that you mention it."
"Sorry. Did you get my messages?"
"Yeah, both of them. Don't worry about that call; you hardly said anything, I promise." She gives him a little smile to reassure him when she sees him looking at her. Before he can say anything else she starts talking "How long have you two been together?"
He frowns "Who?"
"You and Sadie. How long have you had her?"
"Errm, about eight months I guess."
"Right. Cool." she's unsure of what else to say. "I best get him home; he's shaking." She stands up cradling Duke in folded arms.
He jumps to a stand next to her. "Oh, okay." he clips Sadie back onto her lead. "It was nice to see you then."
"Yeah" she nods, then turns away.
"Maybe we should do it again sometime." he yells behind her.
"Okay" she twists to meet his eye once more, then turns away leaving him to watch the back of her head. He watches her walk away and the memories are all still fresh: the smell of her hair, the texture of it, how it felt when it slid through his fingers, he can recall everything like it has only been a day, as apposed to a year.
…..
"Good morning, Sir."
"Morning, Jeremy." Jeremy, Logan's PA, skips behind him to keep up as he makes his way through the fifth floor lobby into his office. He swings his briefcase over the back of one of the padded chairs that sit in front of his desk and releases it.
"Is there anything you need me to do for you this morning?" he pants, breath taken by their pace.
"Go get us a cup of coffee, Jeremy, the good kind today, none of that crap from the kitchen."
"Right away"
He slides his index finger into his collar and tugs it away from his neck to let out a deeper breath. With the same hand he then reaches for the receiver on his office phone, only instead of picking it up his hand stills around it for a moment. 'Come on, Huntzberger' he peps himself up in his mind. With one more breath of confidence he punches in her number and closes his eyes waiting for her to pick up. His mind runs through all the thoughts that had kept him up last night: more confidence, less awkwardness. It seems to ring forever.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Rory." he answers convincingly calm…he hopes.
"Logan," She smiles. "are you sober this time?"
"Yes" He laughs.
"So, what can I do you for?"
"I would like to offer to buy you dinner, or lunch, or something."
"Oh really?" she chews her cheek and contemplates the offer, "I think I'd like that."
"Is tomorrow good for you?"
"Yes, tomorrow is fine."
"Great! I'll message you the details when Ive got the reservation."
"I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Bye."
She hangs up the phone, places the pen back between her teeth and chews it. All of their conversations relaying in her head, 'Maybe we should do it again sometime', she thought he was saying it to be polite, the fact he's followed through makes her nervous. Duke barks at her feet and she scoops him into her lap.
"I hope its not like last time. You remember how awkward that was right, Duke?" she says, Duke barks as if to confirm it and she rubs his ear.
Later that night, Rory sits hunched over her desk typing furiously. She doesn't hear Paris open the front door but Duke's yelps of excitement as he runs from her room snatch her from her concentration.
"Rory!" her frustration bellows through the jar Duke left in her doorway.
"Duke! Leave Aunty Paris alone." she sighs. Entering the open space that combines the living room and kitchen of their apartment she giggles at Duke trying to get some attention from Paris.
"I told you not to call me that." she huffs.
"Is that dinner?" she slides onto one of the bar stools and reaches across the island counter to grab the take-out bag.
They eat in silence. Paris stands opposite Rory, both occasionally glancing up to briefly catch each other's eye.
"Aren't you going to ask me how my day was?" Paris chirps sarcastically through a mouthful.
"Do I ever?" she frowns, when she looks up she notices Rory's overall more chipper demeanour.
"What's up with you?"
She shrugs for response.
"Fine don't tell me." she rolls her eyes.
"There was an extra cookie in the bag I bought from the store this morning."
"Did you save me one?"
She shakes her head.
Paris' hand falls to the counter causing her fork the clatter against her plate. "Typical."
"Sorry" she flinches against the noise.
"No you're not" she mumbles. "Ive got some time off work next week. Im driving down to see Doyle."
"How is he?"
"He's good." thats all the information she offers.
The silence swallows the space around them again and Rory's thoughts drift back to Logan. Their conversations have been so brief, especially this morning's, it makes her consider the possibility that she had concocted the memories from imagination. The more she dwells; the more she doubts. Eventually she digs into her pocket and begins to scroll through her phone. Her call log confirms it; he is back. Paris is watching her intently when she looks back up.
"Your Mom again?" her eyebrows shoot up, pushing the creases into her forehead.
She sighs to let Paris interpret it how she wants. Once she has finished scraping the last ounce of food from the bottom of the take-out box into her mouth, she throws it into the bin and takes the glass of water Paris poured for her when she heads to her room. "Goodnight"
"Night"
She fishes her phone out of her pyjama pocket again and places it on the bedside table before making her way over to her computer, she saves her document then closes it down. As she waits for the screen to flick to black her phone jingles to signal the arrival on email. She slides her legs under the covers and leans on an elbow whilst reading the message. Its Logan. She sends a short reply to confirm their meeting. For a while after, she lies in the dark while she mulls it all over. She's clueless. Totally clueless. She feels nervous, naive, unprepared; despite all the experience she has with him. She lies there for a while, she doesn't know how long for, but it does no good. Then, when she turns over and closes her eyes to sleep, it hits her. She wants him back. The fact she still loves him is something she has never denied, to herself at least, but she had never estimated it was still enough for her to want to be with him again. Suddenly her mind starts filling with questions so quickly she barely has time to finish each one. What does he want? Is he reaching out as friends? Are they starting from scratch? If they're starting again doesn't that contradict why they split? Why now after all this time? Is he still hurt? Does he still love her? Finally though, once she has exhausted herself, she drifts off from her conscious thoughts and instead her dreams take over with visions of him.