Days pass, and the darkness grows deeper. Her husband nudges her as he climbs out of bed. He whispers her name, begging her to join him. She ignores him, and sinks deeper into her covers. The metaphorical weight of things left unsaid grows with each passing moment. She watches him, as he leaves the room. Sometimes she wonders why he even considers putting up with her. She rolls onto her side, and closes her eyes. In an instant she wishes that she hadn't. All she can see is his face.
November 28th 1997—
After hours of waiting, and careful consideration on her part Lorelai decides to see him. A nurse knocks on the frame of the door, and she looks up, full of anxiety as the nurse passes through the threshold. Within the blink of an eye the freshly bathed newborn is being place into her arms. The nurse retreats from the room without another word.
Lorelai inhales, and breathes in the scent of baby lotion. She studies the face of the newborn baby in her arms. She wants so badly to feel absolutely nothing. His eyes flutter open, and his glance falls on her. She kisses his cheek, and caresses his tiny fist with her thumb.
"Hi, little guy," she greets him. "I am so sorry that we had to meet under these circumstances. I am so sorry that you had to come here on these circumstances. I wish that this were a more joyous occasion for me. The selfish part of me wants to keep you all for myself, but that just isn't plausible. None of this is your fault. All of this has to do with circumstances far beyond your control. I have a daughter, she is thirteen. Your sister, and she is everything to me. I can't give you both the kind of lives that you deserve. I doubt that I could ever do you justice. It isn't that I don't love you. No matter how much I prayed that maybe I wouldn't, which sounds completely terrible, because I carried you inside of me for nine months, I do," She pauses to memorize every detail of his face. He stares back at her with a face that mirrors her own. She swallows hard as the tears begin to well up in her eyes, "I love you so much that it hurts. I love you so much that I know I could never do an adequate job of raising you. I wish that none of the circumstances matter, but they do. No matter how much I try to put them in the past, I simply can't. I want you to know that I am doing this for you. Someone is going to love you, and give you all of the things that I never could. One day, when you're old enough to understand you can find me, and…" she trails off abruptly. She can't hold back the tears any longer. She holds him closely as she cries. "My precious boy."
The sound of the phone ringing brings her back into reality. She turns towards the bedside table, with an outstretched arm. She presses the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
"I am just calling to check in," the voice on the other end tells her.
She furrows her brow, and glances at her alarm clock, "Is isn't even six o'clock. What are you doing up?"
"I woke up."
"And the first thing you thought to do was call me?"
"Were you sleeping?"
"No. Mom, that isn't the point."
"I woke up, and you were on my mind."
"I'm fine," she lies.
"You're not fine, I can tell by your tone of voice."
"My tone of voice? What tone?"
"Lorelai it doesn't matter."
"Is there a point to this call?"
"I need you to do me a favor," she insists.
"A favor? What kind of favor?"
"Get dressed, I am texting you an address."
"Texting me an address? Are you meeting me somewhere?"
"No. I need you to do this for me."
"Mom, what are you talking about?"
"Get out of bed, and take a shower. Get dressed, and go to the address that I am texting you."
"What is at this location?"
"There is coffee at the end of this rainbow, Lorelai."
"It's a coffee shop?"
"Yes," she confirms.
"What am I going there for?"
"You will know it when you see it."
"I will?"
"I promise."
"This seems devious, even for you."
"Trust me," Emily implores her.
"I have trust issues involving you dating back to nineteen sixty eight." Lorelai can practically hear her mother roll her eyes.
"Goodbye," she hangs up.
She reluctantly follows her mother's instructions. When she finally reaches her destination it is nearly eight AM. Her hair has haphazardly been secured into a ballerina bun a top her crown. She is dressed in a particularly casual style sporting a pair of jeans, and a vintage black Flock of Seagulls t-shirt. She grabs a cup of coffee, and a muffin, and retires to a booth against the wall. After twenty mother she texts her mother asking how long she needs to stay. Emily responds, 'You'll know.' Lorelai rolls her eyes, and inwardly groans as she finishes her second cup of coffee.