She is standing in the foyer thumbing through mail. She has just gotten home from work, and she feels completely exhausted. She can hear Luke working on dinner in the kitchen. She passes over a Bait & Tackle catalog, a postcard from April, a coupon for Macy's, and a circular for Doose's. She is nearly to the bottom of the pile, thinking to herself, that there is nothing worth opening, when she sees it. She finds a letter addressed to her. She reads, and re-reads the name of the sender. Her breath hitches, and she contemplates her next move.
"Lorelai, dinner is almost done. Did the water bill come?"
"No," she answers flatly, as she digs her piece of mail out of the pile. She dumps the rest of the pile in the hall, along with her keys. She tosses her coat on the banister of the stairs, as she ascends them. She hears footsteps, and Luke appears in the hallway.
"Where are you going? Didn't you hear me say food?"
"Eat without me," she responds.
He furrows his brow, "Are you okay?"
"I'm going to go grab a shower. It was a long day, and I'm just really tired," she lies.
He looks at his watch, "It's six thirty two."
"I'm not hungry."
His eyes widen, "Lorelai!"
She ignores his response, and continues up the stairs. She enters their room, closing, and locking the door behind her. She lowers herself into a seated position near the end of the bed. Her eyes are drawn to the thick white envelope in her hands. In tidy blue lettering is the name of an official entity. Her throat suddenly feels as if it is filled with gravel. She wonders if a vice grip has been applied to her chest. She hears her heart pounding in her ears. She can only imagine what is contained inside the envelope.
She sits on the edge of the bed in complete, and total silence as the dark cloud moves in. She feels a sense of panic wash over her as she tries to will herself to open the letter. She casts it aside, and approaches her dresser. She pulls out pajamas, and makes a beeline for the bathroom. The warm water does nothing to help wash away her fears. When she exits the shower she towel dries, and pulls on pajamas. She brushes her teeth, and applies face cream. She doesn't bother to dry her sopping wet hair. She exits the bathroom, and crawls into her bed. The door opens unexpectedly.
"What are you doing?" Her husband asks her.
"Going to bed," she insists.
"It isn't even seven o'clock," he points out.
"Luke…" she searches for a place to begin.
He immediately picks up on the far off look in her eyes, "What is going on?"
"I can't," she answers simply.
"Okay," he agrees. He gives her a kiss, and leaves their room. She stares at the doorway mulling over his relatively calm, and collected reaction. The nagging pit of her stomach brings her back to reality. She reaches over, and retrieves her phone from the bedside table. She unlocks the device, and dials a familiar number. She anticipates that the party on the other end may not immediately answer.
"Lorelai?" Emily answers.
"Mom, I need to ask you something."
"Lorelai, are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I need to know what you did with my box. I had forgotten about it. I just remembered, and I need it. I need the box," she begins to ramble.
"What box, Lorelai?"
"It's a fireproof box that you let me store in the attic," Lorelai answers.
"Lorelai I haven't had a chance to go through the attic. The house hasn't been sold yet. I gave you the spare key. If it is something that you need you are welcome to go retrieve it. I believe some of your old CD's are up there, too."
"Is anyone at the house?"
"No. Lorelai what is this about?"
"Nothing," she lies.
"So the saga of the mysterious fireproof box of nineteen ninety-seven continues?"
"Does it haunt you?"
"I can tell that it haunts you, so it always gives me pause."
"I've got to go."
"Good night, Lorelai."
"Night, mom," she hangs up the phone.
She climbs out of bed, grabbing her phone, and racing down the stairs. Luke sits in front of the TV watching a football game.
"Where are you going?" He queries.
"Hartford," she answers as she grabs her purse, and keys.
"You're wearing pajamas," he points out.
"I am going to my mother's house."
"Your mother lives in Nantucket," he adds.
"I have to get a box," she insists.
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"No."
"Are you sure? You don't seem to be in the best frame of mind right now."
"I'm fine, dammit!"
"I'll be here when you get home."
"Okay, bye," she races out the door.
The tears wash over her before she even leaves the driveway. She blares the radio the entire journey to Hartford, but it doesn't drown out her thoughts. She stops outside the gate of her parent's house. She unlocks the gate, and drives through. She closes the gate, and heads towards the main entrance. Once inside, she starts flipping on lights. She climbs several flights of stairs until she reaches the attic. She pushes the door open, and flips on the light. She finds the attic full of boxes of various sizes, and colors. She walks to the back corner of the attic, and reaches down a small fireproof lock box from the top shelf. She opens a Van Halen CD, that rests on the shelf below. She removes the key from inside the CD case, and places it inside the box. She takes a seat on a bamboo rug. She crosses her legs in front of her, and places the box on her lap. She unlocks the box, and tosses the letter inside. She has been through her plan a hundred times. Lock up the letter, and leave the box. Her heart skips a beat.