Chapter 9: Knowing When to Admit Defeat

Rory Gilmore sat silently in the posh office, her hands folded in her lap. The young woman seemed to fold her whole body into herself, almost - a reflection of the nervousness she felt in coming here, in being here. The office door closed finally, followed by a to-go cup of Joe thrust into her lap.

"Coffee here sucks. I had to go three blocks to get this," Christopher Hayden admitted dryly.

Rory gave a tentative smile. "This the biggest size they had, huh?"

"It's good to see you, kiddo," Christopher beamed, warm and friendly. A little bit of the hotshot flyboy veneer from her youth was still there, but it had clearly aged with him. The motorcycle was long gone. And they were actually in an office... a professional setting... not Stars Hollow or some place where Christopher could easily flit in and out like a nomadic gypsy, like a myth that was barely real.

"Thanks for squeezing me in," Rory appreciated, hoping she was not an imposition.

"Oh. Always time for you," Christopher emphasized and he meant it.

"So... new office," his daughter commented, trying to get the ball rolling.

"Yes, the cave," Christopher laughed.

"Cave?"

"I call it the cave cause I caved. I'm working in the family biz." Life indeed seemed to have finally caught up with Christopher, anchored him down.

"Well, it looks good on you. New suit, sitting behind that desk..."

"Knife to the heart, kid. Knife to the heart," Christopher dryly parried. Though he secretly appreciated the compliment. Rory stood and began to pace with the coffee cup in her hand.

"So, how's Gigi?"

"She's turning into a full-on Parisian," Christopher reported, referencing his other daughter from another failed relationship, and Rory's half-sister. "Got the baguette thing down and everything."

"Send her my love, will you?"

"I'll do that."

"And how's Lana? Are you two still together?"

"Why not?" Christopher affirmed ambiguously, not really answering the question with a solid yes or no. "How are you?"

"Me? I'm five by five."

Predictably, Christopher did not pick up on the reference the way her mother would have. "What?"

"Oh, sorry, it's... I was watching a Buffy marathon and some things stick." Rory crossed in front of the desk, her countenance slowly sagging as she took on an almost melancholy demeanor. For some reason, she could do nothing but keep her back to Christopher, not strong enough to look him in the eye as she prepared to say what she had come here to say. Naturally, Christopher noticed.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"I can't come visit my father?"

"Any time. It just seems a little formal. Like you're gonna serve me with papers or something."

His interpretation amused her, for it was true in a way. She needed to serve a warning, really, and she hoped her father had grown enough so he could take it well. Rory finally turned to face him.

"Mom and Luke are getting married. Did she tell you?"

"I'm not real good at keeping up with email, so... maybe?" Christopher guessed.

"Well, it's a town thing, and I thought you should know, but I'm kind of hoping you won't..."

"Show up?" Christopher saved her. "I won't. Knowing when to admit defeat is one of my better qualities." His voice sounded sad, but there was no bitterness to it. Rather, an acceptance. Nearly a decade removed from marriage to the mother of his first-born and he was at peace with the way things had turned out. Well, as at peace at one could be at the tender age of 48. "I wish her all the happiness in the world. Is she registered?"

"As what?" Rory wrinkled her nose, amused.

"For gifts. I've got a crazy expense account here. I can get her anything she wants. Does she have a unicorn?"

Rory laughed. "Shoot! She got one yesterday."

"I'll think of something else." Christopher's eyes followed his daughter as she took her seat again. "So, is that what the big news is? The wedding?"

"I'm switching gears a little. Career-wise. The journalism thing didn't really pan out the way I hoped."

"Sorry, kid. Do you need some money?" and her dad sounded genuinely concerned.

"No," she laughed away nervously.

"You sure? Cause I have some. I have no idea what to do with it. I bought this suit and every color of Beats by Dre. I'm out." The colorful, flashy headphones that everyone was wearing for workouts these days.

"I'm writing a book."

"A book?"

"I'm writing a book about me and Mom."

"Really? Does Lorelai know?"

"Yes."

"Does Lorelai care?" Once again, Christopher guessed pretty close to the mark, suspecting that Lorelai wouldn't just jump on board with a memoir about her entire life with nary a peep of trepidation.

"I'll find out."

"Am I in this book?"

"Well, it would be a little hard to avoid," Rory explained delicately, trying very hard not to sound bitter.

"Do I enter in a cloud of sulfur?" Christopher cracked, knowing full well that whatever form he took within these pages, it would not exactly be with glowing reviews.

"I haven't worked out all the logistics."

Christopher chuckled. "OK, well... I think it's great. Just... try not to make me too big a villain. I was stupid, but I loved her. And you." He had to at least make that last point very clear. Rory had been a huge surprise, but her existence meant more to him than she might ever possibly understand. Gigi's as well. Christopher felt that his daughters were the one thing he had gotten right in his mess of a youth.

Rory pursed her lips, silently acknowledging his affection. It was direct, for him, but it was the only way Christopher knew how to show his love, and she had long since accepted that she would take what she got. Beggars couldn't be choosers, so the saying went. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did you feel about Mom raising me alone?"

"Ouch!" Christopher laughed nervously, and if there ever was a knife to the heart, that was it. For the first time, he seemed as nervous as Rory had been at the start of their meeting. Almost uncomfortable. "Kind of... cold-clocked me there, Mr. Bernstein."

"Sorry, I just... have to know. How did you feel? What did you feel?" These were the answers Rory needed to get for her book. But, there was another, underlying reason as well...

Christopher took a moment before answering. "Look, your mom did what she wanted to do. I really wasn't consulted." It was an evasion, and Rory could see that even dancing near this subject was painful for her father, but she needed to know. They both did, really. For closure.

"I know, but... you let her do it," she pressed.

Surprisingly, Christopher did not resist to admitting this. "I did. I... I let her do it."

"So now, all these years later, how do you feel about that?"

"It was in the cards," Christopher dove in finally, bravely. "Lorelai and you, from the first moment I saw you two together, no one was getting between you guys. And then, of course, with... Luke constantly present in your lives... Maybe that's why she's getting married now. You're grown, her job... their job is done. Now they can let each other in and focus on each other."

"So, Mom never let you in? Because there wasn't room?"

"I'm not saying that," Christopher chuckled uncomfortably, shifting a little in his chair.

"Is that why you weren't there? Because she made the decision and she pushed you away?"

"No, not at all. It's just... we were so young. I was so young. And Lorelai was... much like yourself, she was a force of nature. Just uncontrollable. Sure about everything. And Luke was already filling the need, whatever she needed from without. For herself and for you. I couldn't come close to competing with that, so I... didn't." Christopher finished his monologue lamely, so that the last word fell flat with a thud. For a moment, the apologetic meekness that Rory had witnessed in her father from a very young age was back. She recalled that time he tried to buy her an encyclopedia at Andrew's bookstore... and ended up getting his credit card rejected. Christopher could never measure up, and he knew it.

"But... you could have fought her on it. You could have... talked her out of it." Rory seemed to be grasping at straws, as if the answer Christopher had just given her was not the one she wanted to hear. And it probably wasn't. The truth was painful that way.

Christopher laughed ruefully. "You ever try talking your mother out of anything?"

"But do you think it was the right decision that she raised me alone, with only a little help from Luke?"

"I think it was exactly what was supposed to happen, and I think she'd back me up on that."

Too hard. She had pushed him too hard, forced the question too much. Christopher clearly did not want to dwell on these old wounds any more than he had to. Maybe that is why the statement came out a little harsher than he had intended. There was a tense, awkward silence, and Rory fiddled with her cup. "Yeah, I think she would too." She let out a heavy sigh.

"You know I love you though, right?" He had to at least make her see that. He may not have been in her life, but he would always love her. That would never change. Being a parent, no matter how many miles removed, no matter how uninvolved he had been - that parental love would never leave him. Rory had to know that.

Rory sighed again. "I know," she assured him gently.

A tiny chime from the laptop on the desk interrupted the moment. "Oh, hold on..."

"No, you're working, I should..."

"No, I..." Another chime, and Christopher huffed in frustration. "Sorry, kiddo." He sent her another apologetic look, his stupid email server acting as a metaphor for how their relationship was.

But hopefully, not how it always would be.

"Let's meet up for dinner, next week. Tell me more about this book." Christopher circled the desk.

"Thanks for the coffee."

Rory and Christopher hugged, but it was an awkward hug. The executive remembered something Lorelai had told him once, many moons before:

Rory needs her dad.

Or her pal, right?

I think she'd take a combo.

Maybe it would be a combo still, for now, but he hoped that it would not last that way forever.

Turning back by the door, Rory expressed as genuinely as she could, "I think the office is nice."

Christopher watched his daughter go almost sadly, but ever so tentatively optimistic. That this visit was the first step on a journey towards a better place for himself and for his daughter.