Chapter Two
"Okay, so is Emma coming to the…funer…thing or should we get a babysitter?" Lorelai asked, stumbling over the words slightly.
"Um…I think she can come." I responded
"Okay, that's fine" Lorelai said picking up Emma and handing her to me. "Your turn. I'm going to go shower."
We were all staying above the diner. None of us wanted to be near the house, be surrounded by the memories that haunted it, even though it would have been more practical and made more sense. And living above a diner was useful when Lorelai would wake up crying or saw something that reminded her of a happier time and would eat whole pies or pint upon pint of Ben & Jerry's.
We were coping best we could for the next few days, the three of us taking turns with taking care of little Emma and running the diner below, anything to keep busy.
Logan had called only once, asking if we wanted Rory's things. He said "it was too hard to look at them." I wanted to shoot the bastard, but he had called instead of coming in person (coward) and I couldn't.
The entire town had decided to wear black for the rest of June. Luke's wardrobe didn't change except for a colorfully knotted bracelet that he had muttered Rory made for him when she was in the sixth grade. Lorelai wore old jeans and baggy t-shirts, no crazy shoes or light-up hair things. No make up either and the circles under her eyes became more apparent and contrasted drastically with her pale skin. I stuck to my band t-shirt and jeans, they were all dark blues and blacks anyway.
I had stopped reading though and listening to anything besides the heaviest death metal I had. Nothing she liked or that we had ever talked about.
I had told Chris and Matt I wouldn't be back anytime soon so they decided to send me all the manuscripts in need of editing. They also told me that "The Subsect" was selling "like crazy" and they were reprinting, ignoring all my threats of what would happen to them if they did. Damn those assholes.
And then Matt (the guy has no tact whatsoever, I swear) threw in the "need" for a dedication, and could I write that up and send it to them within the next week or so?
Like I really needed the reminder that the only reason I wrote that piece of shit was gone.
I closed my eyes tighter, ignoring the smell of coffee Luke had put on and the buzz of my alarm clock.
If I didn't get up, didn't open my eyes, didn't move, this would all go away.
Today was the funeral.
And I wanted no part of it.
But, because Lorelai was in no fit state to talk to anyone, Logan had dumped Rory's stuff and scrammed (to Fiji last I heard) and Luke could barely manage to string five words together without a crisis going on, that left me to do the eulogy.
I was up half the night trying to put into words the being of Rory. Her hopes and ideas, her brilliant mind and utter wackiness, her unwavering faith in people. And failed each time.
I was supposed to be a writer, wasn't I?
I had written about her before, hadn't I?
Emma started to cry. I doubted Lorelai would be able to stand on her own today, much less care for an infant, and Luke was downstairs, so I forced myself up and staggered to her cradle.
"Rory was…the joy, the spark to this town. All of us loved her, and she loved us all. Rory believed in all of us. Even me, the delinquent, the screw-up. But she believed in the impossible and made it happen,"
I paused. By this time, most of the audience was in tears, Lorelai's sobs above them all. Luke was staring at his wrist where the bracelet was tied, tears falling onto the thin yarn. Emily was holding Emma like a lifeline. Richard was crying, a bottle of vodka in hand, his tie sloppily done and his jacket buttoned wrong. Christopher was holding Lorelai's hand and crying himself. Babbette and Miss Patty held on to each other and kept passing a packet of tissues back and forth. I thought I saw Paris in the back, but couldn't be sure. Mrs. Kim was praying with her rosary and Lane was sobbing quietly, silent tears running down her pale features.
"Rory didn't get the time she deserved here. Didn't get the chance to do everything she dreamed of." I paused again, remembering.
"And that's not fair. Because if anyone deserved the chance to have their dreams come true, it was Rory."
I can't tell you what else I said. The rest of the speech was blurred by my tears and kept running off the page, so I made it up as I went on. The next thing I knew we were passing by the coffin.
Lorelai was first.
She reached in, as if to touch her, but then yanked her hand away, as if the air around her daughter was fire.
"My sweetheart, my baby angel, my sweet baby girl…you be good in heaven, alright? And I'll raise Emma, just like I raised you and she'll know what a great mommy she had, and how special you were to us all. I love you my baby, my little girl. I love you kid."
Then it was Luke's turn, who mumbled something I couldn't hear and slipped a large to-go cup inside the casket and then hurried off the Emma cradled in his arms.
I walked slowly to her. Her skin was ashen, but her expression peaceful. Her eyes were shut and her fingernails were painted rainbow sparkles. Her closed lashes looked like they could pop open at any moment, her rosebud mouth curling into a smile and a "Gotcha!"
I held my breath, half hoping she would and half just drinking in the sight of her because I knew she wouldn't.
Lane talked next. She whispered to her best friend, slipping a bundle of what looked like pictures, letters and scraps of paper with scribbled notes. Then she paused and uttered something else and slipped in a few CD's.
And then she was carried in that awful box to that awful grave with that awful hole.
Lorelai, not able to control herself any longer, fell to her knees, horrible sobs racking her body.
Luke's arms were busy with Emma so I knelt by her and held her tightly, rocking us back and forth. The past hate was forgotten; the memories of our love, our best friend held us together at that moment and we cried.
A long while later, I glanced up, no one was there.
We were alone Lorelai and I, and she was only a whisper in the trees, an echo in our hearts.