Not as Bad as Last Time
Well, at last there was a confrontation, but no closure! I think that these characters, as well as the audience, deserves at least that. This picks up after everyone's heart broke as those three little words were said...
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"I love you."
Had he said it? Had he actually said it after months of thinking about it? Judging by the look on her face, he assumed he had. Realizing that he'd done all the damage he could, he turned to leave.
As his back came into view, she realized he was leaving. Again. She struggled to find her voice.
"No. No, you don't get to say that. You don't get to come back here out of the blue and say...that. This is my town and my life and you can't just say that."
He stopped, considering her words.
The conviction in her voice grew stronger.
"You don't get to walk away either. Not again. You can't just drop something like that on me and walk away."
He turned, trying not to let his voice betray him.
"What do you want from me? What else do you want me to say?"
Her expression softened.
"Why?"
He was confused.
"Why do I love you?"
"Why did you leave?"
He didn't respond. How could he?
Her eyes were pleading.
"I deserve answers. Don't you think I deserve answers?"
"Yes," he answered lamely.
"Well?"
"I'm sorry."
He meant it.
"That's not good enough."
Her voice was pleading now as well.
"Don't you think I know that's not good enough? It's never good enough. I was never good enough."
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to; everyone else did. You're not only going to college; you're going to Yale. You're going to be someone. I couldn't even graduate from high school. I couldn't come to you with that."
His tone was soft, regretful.
"So you left. No goodbye, no screw you. You just left."
"I figured you'd be better off. Plus, there was no way I was going back to that hell hole."
A silence fell upon the two. The cold began to bite at both of them, but they knew that this conversation had to happen. They probably wouldn't get the chance again. He tried to think of something else to say, to explain himself, to try and get her to understand. It was a difficult task because he wasn't sure he understood himself. She broke the agonizingly quiet lull.
"Why didn't you say something on the bus?"
He paused. He was hoping she had somehow forgotten about that.
"You weren't suppose to be there. You were suppose to take the earlier one."
He grasped for an answer, an excuse; he should tell her nothing, everything.
"But I was there. You had to opportunity to say something. Anything."
She desperately wanted to understand his logic behind this event.
"I...I just couldn't, okay."
His lack of a substantial answer made her remember why she had been trying to hate him all these months.
"Oh, Jess is a coward, so he just decides to leave his girlfriend wondering why and if it was her fault. Gotcha."
This time she turned to leave.
"Hey, wait."
He reached out and grabbed her arm.
"You thought it was your fault?"
This surprised him.
"The night of Kyle's party...I just......I don't know."
She was looking down now, her anger gone and replaced by nostalgia.
"That..that wasn't you. That wasn't your fault. You...I wasn't mad at you."
"You scared me that night."
Her voice was barely a whisper. She might have been crying.
"I didn't mean to," he paused and inhaled deeply. "I had just found out I wasn't graduating, that I couldn't take you to prom. I was mad at myself."
"You could've told me."
Her eyes were still on their shoes.
"I didn't think I could at the time."
"And now?"
"And now I know that I never deserved you."
She met his eyes.
"Don't do that. Do go off on the whole You're better than me, I left for you're benefit tirade. Don't you think I should have a say in whether or not you're good enough for me?"
He paused, the faint outlines of a smile playing on his lips.
"You said 'have'. That's the present tense, Rory."
"I meant 'had'," she replied indignently.
Didn't she?
"Lorelai said you were over...this."
His arms motioned in between their two bodies.
"When did you talk to my mom?"
"She decided to pay me a visit," he offered before going on to the question that had kept him awake for months. "Are you over it?"
"Are you?"
She had to hear his answer first. She had to know if he ever felt what she had.
"Do you still love me?" he tried again.
"Don't answer a question with a question."
"You did."
Her eyes fell down again.
"I'm over it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Then why can't you look at me when you say it?"
She sighed and looked up, still not making eyes contact.
"So what if I'm not. It doesn't change anything. Right?"
The reality of her words hit him hard.
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Right. So, I think that I should just go this way, and you should go that way and get in your car and drive to...wherever you're going, and have a nice life."
She turned and walked away. He didn't try to stop her this time.
"Bye."
It was so quiet he knew she couldn't hear it. But he had said it...this time. He began walking back to his car. Luckily there wasn't anybody around to witness their exchange. They were all at the Light Festival. Apparently, the idiotic shin-digs were good for something. He was just about to open the door when he heard someone behind him.
"Did you mean it?"
He knew what she was talking about, but he wanted to hear her answer first.
"Did you?"
She paused, an internal debate raging inside he mind.
"Yes."
Her answer was reluctant, as if she knew she was giving him a secret piece of herself that she could never get back.
"Me too," was all he said. Then he got in his car and left her standing underneath the streetlight. Cold. Alone. Again. But not as bad as last time.