Understanding
I turned my head slightly and knew -- even before I knew - that the image before me would be of Jess wrapped in the arms of another girl. I knew it was so even before I fully registered my surroundings and drank in the sight of his faded jeans and concert T-shirt, his scuffed boots and scratchy hands. I knew it in some dark, unused corner of my mind, just as I had known - and denied and pushed to the back of my consciousness - all summer that this is what I would find when I returned to Stars Hollow from Washington.
Because, simply, Jess isn't Dean. He wouldn't wait. He wouldn't understand why I had kissed him and run away to DC without talking to him. Why I hadn't called. And if he couldn't have me to read with, then he would find someone else to kiss with. Maybe to dull the ache or prove a point or maybe because he honestly didn't give a shit.
My vision clouded a bit, and I didn't know whether it was tears that blurred my vision, or whether my body and heart and eyes had simply stopped working, now that the ugly future that I had spent a summer anticipating and trying to forget was staring me in the face. Mom kept talking, something about poodles - isn't there a cute joke of ours about poodles? I can't remember. There is no sound and no understanding - only a blue-gray fog and a silence that hurts my ears.
I turned my head slightly and knew -- even before I knew - that the image before me would be of Jess wrapped in the arms of another girl. I knew it was so even before I fully registered my surroundings and drank in the sight of his faded jeans and concert T-shirt, his scuffed boots and scratchy hands. I knew it in some dark, unused corner of my mind, just as I had known - and denied and pushed to the back of my consciousness - all summer that this is what I would find when I returned to Stars Hollow from Washington.
Because, simply, Jess isn't Dean. He wouldn't wait. He wouldn't understand why I had kissed him and run away to DC without talking to him. Why I hadn't called. And if he couldn't have me to read with, then he would find someone else to kiss with. Maybe to dull the ache or prove a point or maybe because he honestly didn't give a shit.
My vision clouded a bit, and I didn't know whether it was tears that blurred my vision, or whether my body and heart and eyes had simply stopped working, now that the ugly future that I had spent a summer anticipating and trying to forget was staring me in the face. Mom kept talking, something about poodles - isn't there a cute joke of ours about poodles? I can't remember. There is no sound and no understanding - only a blue-gray fog and a silence that hurts my ears.