Title: No Use Crying Over a Spilled Drink
Author: Erin Kaye Hashet
Rating: PG
Feedback: EKHashet@hotmail.com
Spoilers: Through Nag Hammadi
Summary: After walking away from Rory, Jess remembers why he got out of the car in the first place.
Disclaimer: If I actually owned these characters, I wouldn't be writing this fanfic. I'd make it happen!
Author's Notes: Well, I'm not a huge Jess fan, but I don't hate him, so I thought getting into his head might be interesting. Let's see how this goes.
No Use Crying Over a Spilled Drink
by Erin Kaye Hashet
As he walks away from Rory, Jess suddenly remembers why he got out of the car in the first place. He changes directions and walks back toward the Firelight Festival.
Really, Jess is glad that he remembers. It gives him an excuse not to think about what he just did.
I love you. What the hell was he thinking? Why did he think that would help anything? Rory is over him, like her mother said. She's moved on. Hell, maybe she has another boyfriend, probably some Yalie who grew up rich and never worked at Wal-Mart, never had to work at Wal-Mart, someone who has two parents who love him and are always there for him, someone who graduated at the top of his class and thinks you have to be a straight-A student to appreciate good literature. He guesses he just didn't want her to think that he left without ever thinking of her, but now he thinks that maybe that would have been better. Let her write him off as just that-asshole-I-used-to-date-in-high-school-who-left-me-without-even-saying-goodbye. That would be better than that stunned look she just got on her face when he told her, as if she had been slapped.
He meant it when he told Rory that he loved her, though. Besides her, he's never been with any girl he loved beyond a desire for physical contact. But he loves everything about Rory: the way she reads, the way she smiles, the way she laughs, the way she pouts. The way she talks, the way she casts her eyes downward, the way she runs with her legs flying wildly from side to side—the way she ran from him tonight. He knows they can never be together again—he's messed up way too badly, and although he knows he would be jealous and hurt if it did happen, he hopes she can find someone new. But now every girl he meets is going to have to measure up to Rory, and that's not easy to do.
Jess has not loved very many people in his life. It's a sad statement, but it's true. And there have been even fewer people whom he has both loved and respected. He does love his mother, loves her with the fierce familial loyalty that runs in the Danes family, but he does not respect her, never can respect her. Liz loves him, and he's never doubted that, but she's made too many bad choices that she hasn't learned from. All those guys—boyfriend after boyfriend, every time thinking that this one was different, this one was the man of her dreams. And then she would end up with her TV stolen, with her eyes black and blue, with her self-esteem damaged.
There have really only been two people in his life whom he has both loved and respected: Luke and Rory. And now he's hurt both of them. Why does he do this? Why can't he realize what he has when he has it? A psychologist would probably love to analyze him. Would love to know about how every time his mother had gotten a new boyfriend when he was younger, he had tried to bond with him, had tried to convince himself that this was his new father and they would be friends, every lousy guy right up until the one when he was eight, the one whom Liz had conveniently walked into several doors while dating, the one who had thrown Jess into several doors before Liz finally stopped believing the lame excuses Jess gave for his bruises. After that, Jess gave up. He hasn't inherited his mother's blind optimism, and he realized that no one who came into his life was going to stay.
Rory would have stayed. Luke, too. But it's scary for him to have someone in his life who will always stay. It's scary to depend on someone, scary for there to be someone whom he'll miss. He has such a hard time trusting people, even when they've given him no reason not to. Letting them down before they let him down, he thinks, like in that Good Will Hunting movie he'd seen with some girl back in New York.
He wishes he could explain himself better. He loves books, has loved them since he was a child and his mother would drop him off at story hour because she figured the librarian would keep an eye on him, and he envies the authors, those who have a way with words. His love for reading never translated into an ability to write. Maybe if it had, he'd be able to explain why he's let everyone down.
Wal-Mart started innocently enough. He really just wanted some more money so he could get himself a car. But then it became let's see how much more money I can make. Let's see if I can just skip school today. He hated school. Even though he knew he was smart and could do the work easily, it just bored him. He had no use for it. And maybe, on some level, he wanted to test Luke, too.
He knows Luke didn't want to take him in. Luke wouldn't have chosen it. But Luke didn't get rid of him, either. He could have found about a million excuses to throw Jess out—when he stole things, when he drew that damn chalk outline that everyone got so upset over, when he and Shane were fooling around—but he didn't. Apparently word got around town that Luke had "sent him back to New York" after the car accident with Rory, but that wasn't true. Jess had left voluntarily, hadn't wanted to deal with the aftermath of the accident, hadn't wanted to deal with the consequences involving Rory, Lorelai, Dean, hadn't wanted to deal with the fact that he had accidentally hurt the only girl he'd ever loved. And it hadn't taken much convincing for Luke to take him back after he'd tired of Liz drooling over her latest guy, a pathetic loser who kept mooching money off her, and after he realized that the day Rory came to visit was the only day back in New York that he'd enjoyed.
Luke let him stay through everything—through the stealing, through the fights, through the phony murder—but he wouldn't let Jess stay if he didn't graduate. So of course Jess messed up the one thing that could get him kicked out. Maybe, on some subconscious level, he did it on purpose, that whole letting people down on purpose thing. But even though it had always been there in the back of his mind that he might not graduate, he was stunned when it actually did happen. He couldn't quite believe it. Whatever self-esteem issues he may have, he does know that he's smart, and it just seemed wrong to him not to be graduating. Then it occurred to him that he was a failure, a delinquent loser who couldn't even graduate high school, who was dating a beautiful, brilliant virgin bound for Yale. And Rory deserved so much better.
He didn't mean to take it out on her, but he did. Not that it was much of a change. He was a lousy boyfriend, never having seen a relationship that worked firsthand and never having been in a relationship that was worth more than sex. And he didn't really want sex with Rory, not when he was thinking rationally. Instinct just took him over in Kyle's bedroom, because sex was always a good distraction from life, and the next thing he knew his hand was down her pants and she was running from the room crying and Dean was punching him, assuming things about him like everyone always assumed things about him.
He was curious but a bit scared to see what was going to happen when he told Luke he wasn't graduating. It amazed him when Luke told him he could go back to school and stay another year. He thought Luke would have been glad to be rid of him, and here he was letting him stay another year, this time voluntarily. But foolish pride and fear of attachment took over again, and he refused. And for some reason, he was amazed again when Luke followed through on his threat and kicked him out. Goodbyes only complicated things, so he just left.
No matter what he's said or done, he does love his uncle very much, although in all likelihood he will die without ever saying so. He's made jabs about flipping burgers for a living, but he knew Luke was right when he said he had built the diner and was employee of the universe. And he never wanted to hurt Luke, but that's what he's kept on doing. He remembers how he felt after he drew the chalk outline and Rory yelled at him, telling him that everyone was ready to run Luke out of town and Luke still kept on defending him. It's occurred to him several times that he must owe Luke something for taking him in and trying to help him, and he hates owing people things. That's why it's not worth letting people stay in your life. It bothers him that after Luke tried to help him, he disappointed Luke. That was what he was really saying today, but damn his lack of a way with words. He really ended up hurting Luke, and as if that wasn't bad enough, he had to get bitched out by Lorelai Gilmore, too.
And there in the car, when he was all ready to leave, to put Stars Hollow and anyone who cared about him or meant anything to him out of his life forever, there it was. The money. Luke must have put it in there last night when he went up to sleep in Luke's apartment. Yet another thing he now owes Luke.
One day in Stars Hollow. One day. And already he's managed to hurt the only two people he loves and respects—again. He doesn't learn from his mistakes either. Maybe he's more like his mother than he thought.
* * *
Lorelai has just put on her new earrings and gone off with Rory when Luke sees Jess heading toward him.
He hardens. He remembers what Jess said to him, and the hurt starts again. But this time he is also angry. He was drunk when he went to Lorelai's, although it embarrasses him and he's trying not to think about it, but not so drunk that he doesn't remember what Lorelai said. He feels better now, and knows that maybe Jess' words were a little less true than he originally thought. But he's definitely more pissed.
Jess stops in front of him. "Luke," he says.
Luke straightens up, trying to project that cold, authoritative, parental air that never really worked in the first place. "Jess," he says gruffly.
There is a pause. Finally, Jess says, "I'm sorry."
He remembers what he said to Liz earlier when she apologized for Jess: That statement could encompass a whole myriad of things. He's tempted to repeat it now, but instead he just stands there staring at Jess expectantly.
Jess exhales impatiently. "I'm sorry about what I said to you today. I didn't mean it."
Luke is surprised. It's the first time he can remember Jess apologizing for anything, and Jess has plenty to apologize for. "Then don't say things you don't mean!" he snaps.
"Fair enough," says Jess. Luke sits down on a bench by the gazebo. Jess pulls something out of his pocket. "Take this back."
Luke stares at the money. He'd forgotten about that. It seems so ironic now, that last night he gave money to a nephew who rewarded him by insulting him and making him question the way he lived his life. Last night he'd been so angry at this ungrateful kid he'd spent way too much time caring about who had just breezed back into town and stolen the goddamn car, and angry at Liz for lying to him, and frustrated because nothing could ever go right with Liz or Jess, no matter what he tried to do. And then in came Lorelai—so different from the bubbly, perky Lorelai who'd come into the diner earlier that day. She was the calm, wise Lorelai, the mother Lorelai, reminding him gently that it was thirty-five degrees out and Jess was sleeping in the car. And he ranted to her about how families were spilled drinks and he was sick of cleaning up the messes they made. The next thing he knew, he was going over to Nicole's for the night and letting Jess have the apartment. And although he said he didn't care if Jess froze to death, of course he found himself driving his truck back to make sure his nephew did get a warm bed to sleep in. No matter what he says, he loves Jess. And something about that sight, Jess going from that beat-up car he loved so much to the apartment, made him realize that the car really was the only place Jess had now. So he put that money in, figuring Jess could probably use it.
"Why?" Luke asks. "You telling me you don't need it? Like you don't need me to fix anything?"
"I said I didn't mean that! Jesus Christ, can't you just accept an apology when I give you one?"
"Fine," Luke grunts. "I accept your apology."
"Good. Now, accept this." Jess holds out the money again.
Luke rolls his eyes. "Jess, take the damn money. If you're planning on doing the Kerouac thing, I suggest you have some way to finance it."
"I'm not helpless, Luke. I have made money on my own before, you know."
"Yeah, when you should have been graduating high school," Luke mutters.
"Oh, will you let that go?" Jess explodes.
"And where did you go? California to see dear old dad? Guess you got kicked out of there, too."
"I did not get kicked out!"
"Then what happened?"
Jess shrugs. "Nice place to visit, wouldn't want to live there. Kind of like Stars Hollow that way."
"I'll bet," says Luke sarcastically. "And then you called your mother again, huh?"
Jess shrugs again, some of the edge leaving his face. "She has changed, actually."
Luke actually can't disagree with that. Liz got their mother's optimism while he got their father's pragmatism, and after all the bad judgment Liz has used in the past, he's learned to distrust all of her boyfriends and new jobs. But he has to admit that this is the happiest he's seen Liz in a long time, and aside from the Etch-a-Sketch, TJ/Gary/whoever doesn't seem half bad. Who knows, he might even be good for her.
There is silence between them, and then Jess seems to remember what he's doing in the first place. "Take the money," he says.
Luke lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Why, Jess? Why? You can't tell me you don't need it."
"Because I don't—" Jess stops, then continues. "I don't want to owe you any more than I already do."
All of a sudden Luke remembers what Liz said to him about Jess: "I think he's like Dad." And at once, Luke can see his father in his nephew's face, his father who had hated this damn Firelight Festival but had gone anyway, for his children and his late wife. Jess has that same sensitivity beneath a tough exterior, and Luke supposes that he does, too. Inwardly, he feels a pang. There isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't miss his father, and his greatest desire is to become half the man Bill Danes was. "Family comes first," his father always said, and Luke thinks that lesson has become ingrained in him more deeply than he ever realized until now. It does comfort him to think that putting the money in Jess's car was something that his father would have done. He remembers Lorelai saying to him about his dad after his uncle's funeral: "He's got the big Luke picture screen on twenty-four hours a day, and he watches and smiles." Luke hopes to God that's true.
Silently Luke reaches his hand out and takes the money. He stands up. Jess starts to walk away. "Hey," Luke calls after him.
Jess turns around. "Yeah?"
Luke walks over and lays a hand on Jess's shoulder. "You take care," he says.
Jess jerks away and looks at the ground. "You, too," he mumbles.
As Jess drives away, Luke smiles to himself. He remembers another thing Liz said: "Sometimes it takes awhile for things to sink in. It did with me."
He thinks that maybe she's right. All these years he's been trying to clean up his family's messes when maybe he should have just let things sink in. If families really are like spilled drinks, like he told Lorelai last night, maybe he should let them be. The messes will get cleaned eventually. Liz thinks Jess will be fine, and for the first time in awhile, Luke thinks she's right. Messes come and go, but in the end, everything is fine.
-End.
Wow…that ended up being a lot longer than I intended. Jess's head is an interesting place to be! Anyway, please review. That's what makes this all worthwhile. Tom—thanks for reading and reviewing "What He Wants." Greatly appreciated.