*Still own nothing, still want Chad. Thanks for the great reviews! And
don't worry; I'll get rid of Dean. I just don't know when. *evil cackle,
than hacks* Wow, I shouldn't cackle as much. It's really hard on my
throat.*
Tristan sped home, thinking about what had just happened. Hopefully, he had scored points with Rory for not fighting with Dean. 'And hopefully,' He though bitterly, 'Dean lost points.' He felt bad for her, having a boyfriend that was so overbearing and defensive. He jumped to conclusions too quickly. No wonder she didn't have a lot of guy friends. They were all scared of Bag Boy. Well, he wasn't. He wasn't afraid to fight for what he wanted. After all, he was a DuGrey. And DuGrey's always get what they want.
Except, of course, a family. Although Tristan and his parents were not the picture perfect, all American family, they didn't hate each other and spend all their time having blowouts. His father was always away on business and his mother, no matter how much she cared for him, was still overcome with grief over the death of Tristan's older brother, Carter, two years before. Luckily, they had the servants and the nanny to look after his five-year- old sister, Emma, when he wasn't home. If it weren't for the staff, he would be running the house basically by himself.
He didn't have a problem taking care of Emma, she was the cutest little thing and they depended on each other. There was, however, no way to avoid the fact that they needed their parents.
Tristan looked over at the time. It was about ten o' clock, which meant he would be home around eleven. Emma had a friend's birthday party to go to at two, so he had a couple hours to do some homework and figure out how to get closer to Rory.
When she had first arrived at Chilton, he had to admit, she had just been another conquest. But as she rejected him more and more, new feelings arose and Tristan didn't understand them. Sure, he had liked girls before. Maybe even more than he liked Rory. But the only thing he could ever be was her friend. And sometimes, when you have feelings for someone, it's better to be nothing at all then their friend. Even if they've gone through the same thing, no one quite knows the pain and longing you feel. The frustration and hope when you think the feelings might be requited, but then the despair when you realize once and forever that they are not.
Eventually in life, we all have to learn that we cannot have everything we want, as much as we desire, or think we need it. We cannot have everything, we know this and yet we don't accept it. When someone around you wants everything, you frown upon it, but when you want it, it's fine. And once we realize that this is human nature, it becomes a little easier. We think.
Before Tristan knew it, he was home. Not ready to go inside, he rested his head against the steering wheel. He had grown up too fast, and he knew it. Sighing, he exited the car and walked into the house. "Tristan!" Emma ran up to him and hugged his legs before he lifted her up and hugged her.
"Hey Emmie."
"Where were you at breaky?" She played with the collar of his jacket. He smiled at her vocabulary and mannerisms. Emma was what kept him sane.
"I had to go visit a friend. Did you miss me?"
"Yup." He grinned.
"I missed you too, cutie." He kissed her forehead and let her down. "Is that what you want to wear to Samantha's party?" Emma was wearing a pink, sleeveless dress with little orange, dark pink, and white flowers all over it.
"Yeah."
"Do you know where her present is?" The little girl's eyes widened and her chin trembled.
"Mommy didn't take me to get a present." She started crying. Tristan bent down.
"Em, it's okay. C'mon, we'll go get Samantha a present right now." He grabbed her small, navy blue pea coat from the hall closet and whisked her off into his car. "What do you want to get her?"
"Doctor Bawbie. Sammie said she don't have that one."
"Okay, then that's what we'll get her." Tristan smiled and tousled his little sister's hair.
And hour and a half later, they were finally home. They had spent almost an hour at the local mall's toy store because Emma stopped to look at everything and play with it. They had eventually found Doctor Barbie, and the last African-American one at that. Then, of course, walking by the ice cream parlor, Emma decided that she was hungry so they had ordered ice cream. Tristan, a plain vanilla cone, and Emma, a chocolate-peanut butter cup with rainbow sprinkles. She giggled, as more ice cream seemed to be on her face than in her stomach. Luckily, her jacket had been zipped up, so her dress had not been dirtied.
After the two had arrived home, Tristan went off to wrap the doll. After finding the wrapping paper in the basement and a long, hard struggle with scissors and tape, he asked Emma's nanny, Alexandra, to wrap it.
"Tristan," Emma bounced into his room clutching a DVD, "can I watch this with you?" He looked at what she wanted to watch. Peter Pan. He swore she watched it at least three times a day.
"Sure, Emmers, but you're not going to get to finish it. We have to leave before it's over." He looked back down at his trig homework before getting up and putting the movie in. As soon as he selected 'play', Emma was in a trance.
Settling back down on his bed, he groaned at the hours of labor that were ahead of him. While he wasn't failing classes, he wasn't Albert Einstein, and quickly debated whether to call Rory or not. 'No. I told her I would call her, but if I call her this soon, I'll seem too clingy. But on the other hand, I generally told her I would call about whatever. This is homework. It's different. Right?' By the time he had decided not to call her, it was time to leave. "Em, we have to leave now."
"I don't want to.' She whined. "I want to watch Peter Pan!"
"You can watch it when you get home. Besides, don't you want to see all your friends and give Samantha her Barbie?" Tristan tried to persuade her. She seemed to think about it for a moment.
"Okay." She jumped up and grabbed his hand. He smiled at the simple gesture and led her downstairs. They put on their coats and he took the wrapped box from the front table. He hurried Emma into the backseat and drove through the wrap-around driveway. "Why isn't Daddy ever home?" The five-year-old asked innocently. Tristan was taken aback by the question.
"He works a lot, Emma. So we can have things, like the house and food and clothes. But he still loves us. You know Mommy doesn't work, so he tries extra hard." He did his best to explain their disconnected family.
"Why doesn't Mommy work?"
"She doesn't want to. She's still very sad that Carter di-went away." He caught himself. They never really said anything relating to death around the youngest DuGrey. "She loved him very much. We all did." Silently, he wished she would stop asking questions. He was getting teary-eyed.
"Why did Carter go away?" Tristan groaned inwardly.
"He had to, sweetie. We already talked about this, remember?"
"Yes." She answered quietly. They both knew that she couldn't remember Carter. He was all she had now. They drove the rest of the way in silence, except for a Disney CD softly playing in the background. When they pulled into Samantha's driveway, there were already a few cars there. Tristan retrieved the Barbie from the passenger's seat, went around, and unbuckled Emma. They walked up to the front door holding hands and he picked her up to ring the doorbell.
Samantha's mother, Charlotte D'Orio, answered the door. "Hello, Mrs. D'Orio." He put Emma down.
"Why, hello Tristan. It's nice to see you again. Emma, why don't you go right into the back room?"
"It's nice to see you too. Here's Samantha's gift." He handed her the box. "What time do I have to pick Emma up?"
"The party ends at four thirty."
"Thank you. See you then."
"Goodbye Tristan. Give my regards to your parents."
"I sure will. Goodbye Mrs. D'Orio." He turned around and got back into his car. All this talk about Carter had him upset, so he decided to visit his older brother's grave. The cemetery was barely five minutes away, and he got there fairly quickly. He pulled up and parked in front the large, old oak tree that loomed over the gravestone.
"Hey man. I know I haven't been here in a while. Sorry about that. I just have a lot of schoolwork. You know Chilton. Dad's away as usual. Japan, I think. And Mom really hasn't been the same since you died." Tristan paused, getting choked up. "I was just driving Emma to her friend's birthday party and she asked me why Dad was never home, why Mom doesn't work and why you went away. It's really hard to explain these things to a five-year-old. I told her that Dad works so that we can have things, but he still loves us. I know he does, I guess. Sometimes it just seems like…well, I don't know.
"Mom has gotten better, but she'll never be the same. You were the prize DuGrey. The first-born. I'm the crazy, irrational screw-up, and Emma is the sweet little girl. And she really is. I would do anything for that kid. I feel bad that she can't remember you. You were a great brother, no matter how much we fought. Emma was the middle ground." He paused again. "I miss you, Carter." Tired of fighting his feelings, he burst out crying and laid his head against the headstone, his body racked with sobs. After he had calmed down a few minutes later, he recoiled from the cold, hard, rock.
"Sorry. I'm just really frustrated. We need parents. Sometimes I feel like I'm Emma's father. Which is sad, because I probably almost am in her eyes. School is a bitch, as usual. Except for this one girl. Rory. We've had kind of a shaky past, thanks to my cockiness. I think we're starting to become friends. I really like her, though. I know I've liked a lot of girls. And maybe she's just another girl. But she's really not. I know that. Rory's special.
"But she has a boyfriend. An overprotective, defensive, jealous boyfriend. I took her out for coffee this morning. He showed up and wanted to fight me. Man, did I want to beat the shit out of him. But Rory asked me not to. And this look in her eyes. We've been through this a few too many times before." He sighed.
"I did get to kiss her, though. A couple times, actually. At a party, once. But she ran off crying. That was when she and her boyfriend had been broken up. I bought her tickets to a PJ Harvey concert once. But she didn't want to go. I tried too hard and was too arrogant. And then last night. Given, it was a play for school. I was Romeo and she was Juliet. Let me tell you, Dean wasn't exactly happy about that either." He sat in silence, staring at the inscription. 'Carter Evan DuGrey. Born – January 2nd, 1977. Died – December 28th, 1999. Great minds, great hearts, and great people are never forgotten.'
Tristan had picked out the saying himself. Actually, he had made it up. He was quite proud of that. He stood up, brushed off his pants, and kissed the top of the stone. "I love you, man. We all do."
Two hours later, Tristan arrived back at the D'Orio residence to pick Emma up. After he had left the cemetery, he had gone home and finished almost all of his homework. All he had left to do was a history essay on how wars come about. He jogged up the front walk and pressed the lighted button. He heard the chime from outside. This time one of the maids answered the door. "Good afternoon." She nodded her head politely and led him towards the back room.
"Right through here, sir." Mr. D'Orio stood up to greet him.
"Thank you Margie." She curtsied and left the room.
"Good afternoon, Tristan. How are you this fine Saturday afternoon?" The jolly man touched his back, smiling.
"I'm fine sir, and yourself?" Tristan smiled back.
"I'm good. How are you doing at Chilton?"
"I get good grades most of the time. So did Emma have fun at the party?"
"I'm sure she did. She did get a bit of cake on her dress, however." He chuckled.
"Oh, that's fine. It's not like it's never happened before." Emma turned around from attempting to braid a doll's hair and noticed her older brother. She ran up to him. Grinning, he bent down and picked her up. "Hey Emmers. Did you have fun?" The little girl wrapped chubby arms around his neck.
"Yeah. And guess what? Jenny and Laura got Sammie Doctor Bawbie too, but she said would keep mine!"
"Wow! You must be her best friend!" Emma nodded her head excitedly. Tristan glanced at the small but noticeable stain on her dress.
"Yup!" She giggled and he let her down.
"Why don't you go say goodbye to your friends and then we'll leave, okay?" The kindergartener ran off to say 'bye' to her friends and a maid brought Tristan her coat. "Thank you." Emma came back over to him and he put her coat on and picked her up again.
"What do you say to Mr. D'Orio?"
"Thank you."
"Very good. Thank you for inviting Emma. She seems like she had a great time."
"Samantha likes Emma very much. I'll call your parents to set up a play date. Tell them 'hello' for me."
"Of course. Goodbye Mr. D'Orio. Tell Samantha 'happy birthday' for me."
"Bye." Said Emma, waving. He brought her out to the car and drove off. "Peter Pan!"
"Okay." He slid the Disney CD back in and put on "I Can Fly" and pressed repeat. Tristan smiled to himself as he watched Emma in the backseat, dumping out her goody-bag and singing along without a care in the world. He wished he could go back to being a child. It was so much easier then. As soon as they got home, Emma ran up to Tristan's room to finish watching her favorite movie. Tristan set it up for her, leaving off from the last scene that had been on before they left.
He picked up the cordless phone and went out into the hallway. He looked up the number and dialed.
"Hello?"
"Lorelai? It's Tristan. May I please speak to Rory?"
Tristan sped home, thinking about what had just happened. Hopefully, he had scored points with Rory for not fighting with Dean. 'And hopefully,' He though bitterly, 'Dean lost points.' He felt bad for her, having a boyfriend that was so overbearing and defensive. He jumped to conclusions too quickly. No wonder she didn't have a lot of guy friends. They were all scared of Bag Boy. Well, he wasn't. He wasn't afraid to fight for what he wanted. After all, he was a DuGrey. And DuGrey's always get what they want.
Except, of course, a family. Although Tristan and his parents were not the picture perfect, all American family, they didn't hate each other and spend all their time having blowouts. His father was always away on business and his mother, no matter how much she cared for him, was still overcome with grief over the death of Tristan's older brother, Carter, two years before. Luckily, they had the servants and the nanny to look after his five-year- old sister, Emma, when he wasn't home. If it weren't for the staff, he would be running the house basically by himself.
He didn't have a problem taking care of Emma, she was the cutest little thing and they depended on each other. There was, however, no way to avoid the fact that they needed their parents.
Tristan looked over at the time. It was about ten o' clock, which meant he would be home around eleven. Emma had a friend's birthday party to go to at two, so he had a couple hours to do some homework and figure out how to get closer to Rory.
When she had first arrived at Chilton, he had to admit, she had just been another conquest. But as she rejected him more and more, new feelings arose and Tristan didn't understand them. Sure, he had liked girls before. Maybe even more than he liked Rory. But the only thing he could ever be was her friend. And sometimes, when you have feelings for someone, it's better to be nothing at all then their friend. Even if they've gone through the same thing, no one quite knows the pain and longing you feel. The frustration and hope when you think the feelings might be requited, but then the despair when you realize once and forever that they are not.
Eventually in life, we all have to learn that we cannot have everything we want, as much as we desire, or think we need it. We cannot have everything, we know this and yet we don't accept it. When someone around you wants everything, you frown upon it, but when you want it, it's fine. And once we realize that this is human nature, it becomes a little easier. We think.
Before Tristan knew it, he was home. Not ready to go inside, he rested his head against the steering wheel. He had grown up too fast, and he knew it. Sighing, he exited the car and walked into the house. "Tristan!" Emma ran up to him and hugged his legs before he lifted her up and hugged her.
"Hey Emmie."
"Where were you at breaky?" She played with the collar of his jacket. He smiled at her vocabulary and mannerisms. Emma was what kept him sane.
"I had to go visit a friend. Did you miss me?"
"Yup." He grinned.
"I missed you too, cutie." He kissed her forehead and let her down. "Is that what you want to wear to Samantha's party?" Emma was wearing a pink, sleeveless dress with little orange, dark pink, and white flowers all over it.
"Yeah."
"Do you know where her present is?" The little girl's eyes widened and her chin trembled.
"Mommy didn't take me to get a present." She started crying. Tristan bent down.
"Em, it's okay. C'mon, we'll go get Samantha a present right now." He grabbed her small, navy blue pea coat from the hall closet and whisked her off into his car. "What do you want to get her?"
"Doctor Bawbie. Sammie said she don't have that one."
"Okay, then that's what we'll get her." Tristan smiled and tousled his little sister's hair.
And hour and a half later, they were finally home. They had spent almost an hour at the local mall's toy store because Emma stopped to look at everything and play with it. They had eventually found Doctor Barbie, and the last African-American one at that. Then, of course, walking by the ice cream parlor, Emma decided that she was hungry so they had ordered ice cream. Tristan, a plain vanilla cone, and Emma, a chocolate-peanut butter cup with rainbow sprinkles. She giggled, as more ice cream seemed to be on her face than in her stomach. Luckily, her jacket had been zipped up, so her dress had not been dirtied.
After the two had arrived home, Tristan went off to wrap the doll. After finding the wrapping paper in the basement and a long, hard struggle with scissors and tape, he asked Emma's nanny, Alexandra, to wrap it.
"Tristan," Emma bounced into his room clutching a DVD, "can I watch this with you?" He looked at what she wanted to watch. Peter Pan. He swore she watched it at least three times a day.
"Sure, Emmers, but you're not going to get to finish it. We have to leave before it's over." He looked back down at his trig homework before getting up and putting the movie in. As soon as he selected 'play', Emma was in a trance.
Settling back down on his bed, he groaned at the hours of labor that were ahead of him. While he wasn't failing classes, he wasn't Albert Einstein, and quickly debated whether to call Rory or not. 'No. I told her I would call her, but if I call her this soon, I'll seem too clingy. But on the other hand, I generally told her I would call about whatever. This is homework. It's different. Right?' By the time he had decided not to call her, it was time to leave. "Em, we have to leave now."
"I don't want to.' She whined. "I want to watch Peter Pan!"
"You can watch it when you get home. Besides, don't you want to see all your friends and give Samantha her Barbie?" Tristan tried to persuade her. She seemed to think about it for a moment.
"Okay." She jumped up and grabbed his hand. He smiled at the simple gesture and led her downstairs. They put on their coats and he took the wrapped box from the front table. He hurried Emma into the backseat and drove through the wrap-around driveway. "Why isn't Daddy ever home?" The five-year-old asked innocently. Tristan was taken aback by the question.
"He works a lot, Emma. So we can have things, like the house and food and clothes. But he still loves us. You know Mommy doesn't work, so he tries extra hard." He did his best to explain their disconnected family.
"Why doesn't Mommy work?"
"She doesn't want to. She's still very sad that Carter di-went away." He caught himself. They never really said anything relating to death around the youngest DuGrey. "She loved him very much. We all did." Silently, he wished she would stop asking questions. He was getting teary-eyed.
"Why did Carter go away?" Tristan groaned inwardly.
"He had to, sweetie. We already talked about this, remember?"
"Yes." She answered quietly. They both knew that she couldn't remember Carter. He was all she had now. They drove the rest of the way in silence, except for a Disney CD softly playing in the background. When they pulled into Samantha's driveway, there were already a few cars there. Tristan retrieved the Barbie from the passenger's seat, went around, and unbuckled Emma. They walked up to the front door holding hands and he picked her up to ring the doorbell.
Samantha's mother, Charlotte D'Orio, answered the door. "Hello, Mrs. D'Orio." He put Emma down.
"Why, hello Tristan. It's nice to see you again. Emma, why don't you go right into the back room?"
"It's nice to see you too. Here's Samantha's gift." He handed her the box. "What time do I have to pick Emma up?"
"The party ends at four thirty."
"Thank you. See you then."
"Goodbye Tristan. Give my regards to your parents."
"I sure will. Goodbye Mrs. D'Orio." He turned around and got back into his car. All this talk about Carter had him upset, so he decided to visit his older brother's grave. The cemetery was barely five minutes away, and he got there fairly quickly. He pulled up and parked in front the large, old oak tree that loomed over the gravestone.
"Hey man. I know I haven't been here in a while. Sorry about that. I just have a lot of schoolwork. You know Chilton. Dad's away as usual. Japan, I think. And Mom really hasn't been the same since you died." Tristan paused, getting choked up. "I was just driving Emma to her friend's birthday party and she asked me why Dad was never home, why Mom doesn't work and why you went away. It's really hard to explain these things to a five-year-old. I told her that Dad works so that we can have things, but he still loves us. I know he does, I guess. Sometimes it just seems like…well, I don't know.
"Mom has gotten better, but she'll never be the same. You were the prize DuGrey. The first-born. I'm the crazy, irrational screw-up, and Emma is the sweet little girl. And she really is. I would do anything for that kid. I feel bad that she can't remember you. You were a great brother, no matter how much we fought. Emma was the middle ground." He paused again. "I miss you, Carter." Tired of fighting his feelings, he burst out crying and laid his head against the headstone, his body racked with sobs. After he had calmed down a few minutes later, he recoiled from the cold, hard, rock.
"Sorry. I'm just really frustrated. We need parents. Sometimes I feel like I'm Emma's father. Which is sad, because I probably almost am in her eyes. School is a bitch, as usual. Except for this one girl. Rory. We've had kind of a shaky past, thanks to my cockiness. I think we're starting to become friends. I really like her, though. I know I've liked a lot of girls. And maybe she's just another girl. But she's really not. I know that. Rory's special.
"But she has a boyfriend. An overprotective, defensive, jealous boyfriend. I took her out for coffee this morning. He showed up and wanted to fight me. Man, did I want to beat the shit out of him. But Rory asked me not to. And this look in her eyes. We've been through this a few too many times before." He sighed.
"I did get to kiss her, though. A couple times, actually. At a party, once. But she ran off crying. That was when she and her boyfriend had been broken up. I bought her tickets to a PJ Harvey concert once. But she didn't want to go. I tried too hard and was too arrogant. And then last night. Given, it was a play for school. I was Romeo and she was Juliet. Let me tell you, Dean wasn't exactly happy about that either." He sat in silence, staring at the inscription. 'Carter Evan DuGrey. Born – January 2nd, 1977. Died – December 28th, 1999. Great minds, great hearts, and great people are never forgotten.'
Tristan had picked out the saying himself. Actually, he had made it up. He was quite proud of that. He stood up, brushed off his pants, and kissed the top of the stone. "I love you, man. We all do."
Two hours later, Tristan arrived back at the D'Orio residence to pick Emma up. After he had left the cemetery, he had gone home and finished almost all of his homework. All he had left to do was a history essay on how wars come about. He jogged up the front walk and pressed the lighted button. He heard the chime from outside. This time one of the maids answered the door. "Good afternoon." She nodded her head politely and led him towards the back room.
"Right through here, sir." Mr. D'Orio stood up to greet him.
"Thank you Margie." She curtsied and left the room.
"Good afternoon, Tristan. How are you this fine Saturday afternoon?" The jolly man touched his back, smiling.
"I'm fine sir, and yourself?" Tristan smiled back.
"I'm good. How are you doing at Chilton?"
"I get good grades most of the time. So did Emma have fun at the party?"
"I'm sure she did. She did get a bit of cake on her dress, however." He chuckled.
"Oh, that's fine. It's not like it's never happened before." Emma turned around from attempting to braid a doll's hair and noticed her older brother. She ran up to him. Grinning, he bent down and picked her up. "Hey Emmers. Did you have fun?" The little girl wrapped chubby arms around his neck.
"Yeah. And guess what? Jenny and Laura got Sammie Doctor Bawbie too, but she said would keep mine!"
"Wow! You must be her best friend!" Emma nodded her head excitedly. Tristan glanced at the small but noticeable stain on her dress.
"Yup!" She giggled and he let her down.
"Why don't you go say goodbye to your friends and then we'll leave, okay?" The kindergartener ran off to say 'bye' to her friends and a maid brought Tristan her coat. "Thank you." Emma came back over to him and he put her coat on and picked her up again.
"What do you say to Mr. D'Orio?"
"Thank you."
"Very good. Thank you for inviting Emma. She seems like she had a great time."
"Samantha likes Emma very much. I'll call your parents to set up a play date. Tell them 'hello' for me."
"Of course. Goodbye Mr. D'Orio. Tell Samantha 'happy birthday' for me."
"Bye." Said Emma, waving. He brought her out to the car and drove off. "Peter Pan!"
"Okay." He slid the Disney CD back in and put on "I Can Fly" and pressed repeat. Tristan smiled to himself as he watched Emma in the backseat, dumping out her goody-bag and singing along without a care in the world. He wished he could go back to being a child. It was so much easier then. As soon as they got home, Emma ran up to Tristan's room to finish watching her favorite movie. Tristan set it up for her, leaving off from the last scene that had been on before they left.
He picked up the cordless phone and went out into the hallway. He looked up the number and dialed.
"Hello?"
"Lorelai? It's Tristan. May I please speak to Rory?"