Once innocence was lost / There was not faith enough / Still my heart held on.
That kind of Love, Alison Krauss
June 2016
And so, they find themselves at dinner at Liz' and TJ's. It's in no way a disaster, but what does that matter when it feels like one? It's at these times Jess wishes he'd paid more attention to Liz' hippie mumbo-jumbo. Astral projection could really come in handy on evenings like these. Hanging out with Liz and her oaf of a husband is definitely at the bottom of the list of things he likes to do, right below being strapped to an ant hill. The likeness is completely relevant since he imagines the sensation being roughly the same. Every ounce of his energy goes towards keeping control of himself, all while his skin crawls with irritation. His words, tone, even physical movements, all strapped down by sheer force of will.
Rory's a gem, of course, chatting away with his mother and simply bearing with TJ's tirades on whatever silly new hobby he's into. Jess smiles at Doula across the table, and she smiles back. It's strange to see it split her face, she looks like him. It's inescapable. Practically a copy of him at ten, only with longer hair. It unnerves him plenty. Seeing himself in younger forms, be it exterior or in character traits, he feels hopelessly helpless. He cannot relive that part of his life, not even via someone else, but with Doula he has no choice. She's his sister. Finding out she was coming is still one of the worst days of his life, and that's saying something. His mother having another kid, dropping another sucker in this mess, as he's heard Luke put it. He knew he'd be bound to her forever, and to Liz for at least another 18 years.
Since then he's been in a constant state of push and pull with Stars Hollow and his mother's house. It's been worsened by that feeling already existing in him because of Luke and Rory. He goes to see his sister about twice a semester in different forms, the good ones being when he can pick her up and go for donuts, or babysit her. The bad ones being dinner, because of their- her parents. It feels utterly useless sitting there, exchanging chit-chat, not being able to have a decent conversation with Doula without it being party-crashed by the last two people you'd want at your party.
He's an expert at avoiding dinner invitations from Liz. For starters he never picks up the phone when she calls but makes her leave a message stating her business. If she needs him to pick Doula up, from anything, for anything, he'll call her back, accepting and alluding to the thing he has planned for the night of the day in question. If she's trying to invite him to dinner, he'll wait up until the last moment to call her back making up some excuse. He is a writer after all, good stories are sort of his thing, and Liz is gullible, one of her more redeeming qualities, actually. But then Rory picked up his phone while he was in the shower, and here they are.
"We're so happy about you Rory," Liz says, not for the first time this evening. "If nothing else then for actually answering his phone. I never get to spend any time with him."
Rory blushes and shoots Jess a furtive look.
"Well, he is usually very busy," she says, having learned her lesson and thus laying the groundwork for a few months of peace and quiet. "You just caught us at a good time. Lucky."
This exchange drones on for a few minutes, one white lie after another covering each other, like plaster over a hole, repetitive. He turns to Doula.
"How'd you do in school?"
Rory turns her attention to them at the mention of the word 'school'. Doula rolls her eyes at him.
"I flunked math. I gotta go to summer school 'cause of it."
A potentially sick idea appears to him, he smiles wickedly.
"Hey, Rory here's a really good tutor."
Rory laughs, loudly.
"Oh, like you'd know. You spent the entire time bugging me with card tricks and music quizzes."
Doula's eyes light up and she shares one of her rare smiles.
"You tutored him?"
Rory glares at him for a split second before returning to being the people-pleaser she is and answering Doula.
"For one night only."
"I was a hopeless case." He can't help himself. Rory elbows him in the stomach.
"What Jess is trying to say is that he wasn't really serious about learning."
"I wanna learn." Doula says, eager now.
Rory chuckles a little, shrugs and says;
"Well, I'd be happy to see you after school someday this week, before we head back home."
Doula turns pink, eyes almost beaming at the promise, pretty.
"Would you do that, Rory?" Liz looks delighted.
"I'm probably not the best idea for a steady tutor considering the distance, but-" She turns back to Doula. "We could talk, see if we can figure out what the problem is. That might be helpful if you get a reoccurring teacher later."
Doula nods fervently. He has to swallow to rid himself of the feeling of irrational pride over Rory at that moment. Her being this way has nothing to do with him, and her tendency to care about, and always do her utmost for other people has worried him more through the years than anything else. But he sees it now, the upside, for others as well as herself.
"I'll text you later and we can decide a time." Rory continues at Doula.
"Doula here sure could use the help-" TJ starts, and Jess knows from experience that this is his cue.
"Hey, kid," he interrupts, "didn't you have new music to play me?"
"Yes!" Doula responds enthusiastically. "Come on!"
She gets up and pulls Jess up by the hand and he gestures at Rory to follow, he can't bear to leave her alone with Liz and TJ after she's pulled all the weight through dinner. She follows after shooting the hosts an apologetic smile.
They walk into Doula's room, which is a mish-mash of pink and black, a child going on teenager. The walls are covered in paintings and sketches by her and her friends, motifs ranging from cute animals to romance to the goth-aesthetic. Rory walks around and looks at the pictures, and he lets himself be escorted to the cherry-armchair by his sister who then proceeds to play Meliora off her computer.
"New Wave Metal, huh?" He says after a while. "That means you'll be getting an Edgar Allan Poe anthology for your birthday."
"Please, no more books!" She says.
"You gotta read!" He objects. "I have nothing but books to offer you!"
"Fine! Just no Poe!" She laughs.
"See, this is what happens when you try too hard with Hemingway." Rory teases.
"If you like Ghost, you should listen to Korn too. And Tool." Jess says, as they exit her room.
"They're old men." Doula retorts.
Rory giggles audibly.
"For all you know Ghost could be senior citizens." He argues. "That or they're young punk versions of who they're about to become. Everybody gets old."
"Promise?" Doula says and Jess smiles at her.
"Not yet, young lady." TJ cuts in from the kitchen. He leans on the doorframe while Liz does the dishes. "That ghoul-band o' hers played in New York a bit back, she wanted to go but I said no way, José."
"He's such a first-time parent." Liz says knowingly. "I keep telling him; kids need to grow up wild, just look at my Jess."
Jess turns his sigh into a slow breath. TJ shoots him an unimpressed look and turns to Rory in a confidential tone.
"Me and Liz have different ideas about what a good example is."
Something happens to Rory's face at that moment, and it's so rare that it actually takes a second for him to identify it. It's cold rage. Her blue eyes suddenly bear a striking resemblance with a glacier, and her ever smiling mouth become a thin line as she presses her lips together. It's kind of a sight for sore eyes. Nevertheless, Rory's good favors to his family is the only thing making it bearable to spend time with them, so, an actual conflict would not be good. He puts a hand at the small of her back, ushering her towards the door, and tries not to rush it.
"We should go. Thanks for dinner." He turns back and winks at Doula. "Let me know next time there's a gig, okay? I'll take you."
His sister smiles at him, almost jumping in the spot.
"TJ's an effing moron." Rory growls as soon as they're walking down the driveway. He puts his arm around her, partly thanking her for her support, partly holding her in place so she doesn't get any bad ideas.
"It's better if he thinks I'm a fuck-up," he explains, "means he won't let Liz run the show. If she had her way Doula'd run around their ren-fairs with no supervision, and she probably would've shipped her off to New York on her own."
He sighs.
"She has no idea what could happen to a kid in either one of those situations. And there she is referring to me as some kind of success story. It's embarrassing."
"You are a success story." Rory retorts.
He squeezes her closer as they're walking. The relief of being out of there almost makes him euphoric.
"It could've been worse," he admits. She looks at him with stern-face. He smiles and kisses her head. "Fine. It could've been a lot worse. My point is, it's not 'cause of her so-called parenting. TJ being protective of their ten-year-old is ultimately a good thing."
Rory looks at him skeptically.
"Do you really think I care what that clown thinks of me?" He answers her wordless expression. "Only reason I'm here's 'cause of Doula."
The evening is warm and still light. They're in no hurry and slowly make their way to the town center and the diner. They've never gotten out of the habit of staying there when they're together, no matter how comfortable Lorelai's gotten with the idea of the two of them. At times it strikes him as odd, considering how big a part this town, her background, is of her. But maybe that's the thing; maybe she needs it to be new to her. And in a way, it's just a choice between staying in hers or his old room. And his is closer to the food and coffee, after all. He smiles to himself and kisses her temple again. She makes a little whining sound.
"What?"
"I wish you hadn't said I'm a good tutor. Now, maybe they'll have expectations."
He shakes his head.
"Your worst will impress them."
"I just don't see myself as very good at this. Teaching you got us in a car accident-"
"Don't you dare take responsibility for that!" A familiar guilt jabs him in the chest.
"-and when I was supposed guide this Chilton-girl through Yale I lost her."
They're almost at the diner now, and he halts her, turns her around and ambles the last steps with her facing him.
"Through no fault of yours, I guarantee it." He buries his face in the crook of her neck, mumbles. "And it's not just about schoolwork, it's about being a role-model."
"Hey, watch where you're going! And that's not exactly calming."
He stops them and looks up at her. She's serious and looks worried. There's tenderness, from seeing her like that. He's partly grateful that she lets him see it, but also has trouble responding to it in any real way that doesn't seem like a pat on the head.
"You'll help her, just by seeing her, I know it." He tries, thinking of himself as a kid. About them being thrown together by his grades slipping. About them both sort of knowing that there was something else in the works, something no amount of tutoring would help. About him still doing it, because any excuse to spend time with her was welcome, how he even would have studied, he thinks, had they made it back to the diner. And he thinks about how that experience could have put her off helping someone else, and feels bad, even a bit panicky. "It's different for girls. She could actually use it, it could make a real difference to her."
As if to end the conversation he kisses her at that moment and it's not just any kiss. He leans her against the wall with the full length of his body and keeps her in place with one hand at her neck and one at her back, under her jacket, under her shirt. The force contrasted by the softness of her mouth and the gusts of rapid breath and-
"You're amazing." He says, with unguarded adoration. Mouth trembling, she smiles.
"Save it 'til I've seen Doula-" She tries. He shakes his head.
"No. You're fucking amazing."
•••
Two days later Rory's at Luke's with a cup of coffee, waiting for Doula, who chose the venue. Luke is off with Jess in Hartford picking up material for the latest interior project at the house, and they're supposed to work at it during the day.
Doula's punctual, and comes carrying a seemingly heavy - considering the tilt in her angular body - bag in brown leather. Her dark hair is spread over her shoulders and slightly across her face, and she strokes it behind an ear smiling shyly at Rory as she enters the diner.
"Hi."
"Hi." Rory gets up and grabs the bag off her shoulder. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah."
"Great. Won't you go order what you want? I'm pretty sure it's on the house. And I'll pay otherwise."
Doula walks up to the counter and places an order with Ceasar.
"So, what area is the most difficult for you?" Rory asks as Doula comes back with soda for herself.
"Can my answer be all of them? Math is the worst. It's this world where things just are without explanation or back story or purpose. And I've tried turning my head off, but it, it just doesn't work. Can you teach me how to do that?"
"That is a skill I've yet to master, unfortunately. But maybe I can help you to distract yourself enough so that you'll be able to work. Are you sure you can't narrow it down for me?"
"I was doin' alright until equivalent fractions. When we started, I was sure I got it, but then it turned out I didn't. The problem is my head is constantly convinced that it knows what's up, but all my results are wrong. And that's a real problem, 'cause I can't start over, since I'm sure I get it, only I don't."
"Well, let's look at it. Show me how you think. Take me through a problem."
Doula opens her book and turns to fractions, picking an assignment.
"See, you might be over-thinking this." Rory says after a while. "At some point visualizing makes them unreliable. You gotta trust the numbers."
"How can I trust them? They can represent anything. I know that's the point, but it just feels wrong."
"But they just are what they are, nothing else. They work."
"I don't know, Rory. I don't think it's working. I'm not built for this. I mean, you've met my parents, I don't stand a chance."
"Don't give up," Rory smiles, ignoring the bit about Liz and TJ, "you can do this. People get hung up on mathematics being the ultimate abstraction, but sometimes it's the complete opposite. It's all there, the tools you need to work it out. And if you stick to the formula, and repeat it enough, then it becomes second nature, like knitting... or..." Rory grasps for a likeness. "What's your favorite subject?"
"Art."
"Those pictures in your room? They were yours? They're so beautiful."
"Thank you."
"You try to take the joy you get from the subjects you love and let it spill over the others. It'll still suck but you try to find some of it in them too. Like, in math there's geometry. That's artsy. And in chemistry you could draw the measurements by your notes, it'll help you remember and relax. See where I'm going with this?"
"Yeah. Keep drawing."
"That's right. And if you feel stupid, don't be scared to admit that. It's not self-bashing to admit that you need help. It's even disarming to a lot of people. You could start a study-group, peer-studies are really good if there's something you don't get. Like, in college, I signed up for this course, and was in way over my head, but I couldn't drop it. So, I sort of picked a few people that seemed like they were getting it, and I asked them to help me in exchange for me arranging the study-dates right down to supplying coffee, and they were totally in. Passed the course too. You know, sometimes there's nothing wrong with being the weakest link academically, as long as you bring something to the table, literally and figuratively speaking."
They try another assignment and Rory steers Doula more this time, telling her what to focus on. As they work she thinks about what Doula said. Does she think she's stupid? Rory's scared to ask, but goes for it anyway after a while.
"How are things at home?"
Doula looks at her for a second before answering, and for a fraction of that she looks exactly like her brother, scoping out the territory, guarded. Rory swallows.
"They're fine. Dad's sort of clumsy, but he doesn't mean any harm, like ever. Mom lets me be mostly, as long as I don't get into trouble she's happy." She pauses, hesitates, then goes on. "You should have seen her when I got into a fight with Sheryl Hicks though. First, she yelled at me like she's never yelled before, then she gave me the silent treatment, but then it was like she forgot about it or something. Follow-through isn't really her strong suit."
"What happened with Sheryl Hicks?" Rory asks, unsuitably curious. Doula turns to her and starts telling the story, gesturing as she goes.
"Alright, so, Sheryl hassled me for days, she's got something against me, for some reason. Told everyone I'd written love letters to Richie Johnson, which is totally untrue, because yuck!" She gags for emphasis, then takes a breath and continues. "She keyed my locker, shoved me in PE and ruined my drawing with black marker. So, finally, I lost it and tore out a big chunk of her hair." Doula settles in her chair again, and turns her eyes to the table. "She left me alone after that, but mom was so angry, said she might as well have had Jess back, like it was the worst thing ever."
Rory listens to her quietly, doesn't want to disturb whatever it is she wants off her chest. Doula gives her a dark look.
"So, y'know, she talks about wanting to see him more, but... when he's around she seems sort of uncomfortable. And I don't blame her 'cause, it's like he's giving her the forever version of the silent treatment, he so quiet. Not at all like when we're hanging out, he'll go on and on about music or books and be all goofy-like." She smiles a little inward smile while she speaks, then she falls silent and bites her lip, eyes wary. "I did ask him, you know... Why he hates mom."
Rory turns her head to look at her sharply.
"It's obvious he does," Doula goes on defensively. "He's so different when it's just us."
Rory feels herself soften, of course he is. She tilts her head.
"What'd he say?"
"Told me to mind my own business."
Rory smiles.
"And did you?"
"No way. I kept nagging him 'til he gave in. Sort of."
Rory holds her breath.
"He said that he has trust-issues with her for not protecting him when he was a kid. Whatever that means."
She looks at Rory questioning before continuing.
"Do you know?"
"No," Rory admits. "He pretty much told me to mind my own business too... I have some ideas though, but... I do think, maybe we should, mind our own businesses."
This is the first time she's formulated any stance that's expressed moderation concerning this, and she's having a hard time believing herself. Doula looks disappointed.
"Oh, come on!" She says.
"He's trying to protect you." Rory puts her hand on Doula's arm.
"But I already know it's bad!" Doula protests. "Now it's like there are monsters under my bed, and maybe he made sure they can't come and get me, but they're still there!"
The imagery makes the hairs on Rory's neck stand up, especially since she recognizes the feeling it conveys. She jabs her nails into her fists to focus enough to produce some comfort for Doula. She decides to run with the metaphor.
"Well, maybe, it's still the best option; if you have to stay in that room, then it's preferable that they can't get you, or that you can't see them, even if you know they're-" She's freaking herself out, and wouldn't listen to herself if she was Doula, so, she changes direction. "Or maybe he knows they're not so bad. Maybe they're old now. Toothless. Senile."
Doula smiles, obviously considering it.
"Old and toothless monsters."
Rory nudges her shoulder with her own.
"Maybe you can draw 'em."
"Maybe I'll make 'em cute and cuddly."
"Yeah."
"It's a good idea." Doula mumbles, mostly to herself. "It'll help me get back to sleep when I wake up at night."
Another chill of recognition runs through Rory.
"That happen often?"
Doula shrugs.
"I have nightmares. And I'm too old to wake Mom and Dad over it."
Rory swallows.
"What are they about?"
Doula regards her for a few moments too long before answering.
"Just the monsters."
They sit with the book for a while longer, share a donut, before calling it quits. Rory walks Doula home. Liz is in the driveway when they get there, so they exchange pleasantries and Rory reports on the tutoring session. But Rory's looking at her differently now. Searches her, for... what? Something bad? Something worse than average ignorance? Doula is so much like him. Same eyes, mouth, way of speaking, and staying quiet. She sees all the same things in her, but nowhere near Liz. And since they have different fathers… She wonders how much of him is just him being stronger in his broken places. She wonders what he's really like. The only thing she finds in Liz, though, is some willful silly. There's no apparent malice, and yet, there has to be.
As soon as she's leaving she fights back tears. Why doesn't she know? Why is she interrogating a ten year old and trying to figure out her would-be mother in law by speculating and staring. She should be able to talk to her boyfriend about this. How could she not know?
Nevertheless, the rest of the day progresses like it normally would, she packs up her stuff for the trip back to Philadelphia and goes to have dinner with Lane and her family. She doesn't mention any of it to her friend. Just feels slightly off. Lorelai's working late, so she just goes back to the diner, and goes to bed with her book. Can't concentrate, can't fall asleep. Just winds up staring at the ceiling.
It's almost eleven when Jess sneaks in. He gets into bed with her, places his hand over her bare tummy. She grabs it, to wordlessly let him know she's awake.
"Hi." He says.
"Why don't you talk to me?"
There's silence, supposedly while he processes her tone.
"What's going on?"
"There's just, so much stuff that you never tell me." She doesn't want her voice betraying how worked up she already is, tries to keep it low.
"If this is about Liz, I thought we covered that way back. I have my reasons."
"If you're referring to our conversation on why it'd be a bad idea for you to write an autobiography or not- then you're right; it was way, way back. But I'm not some reader, Jess. I'm-" She's interrupted by the shift in the mattress when he turns to her in the murky room, and puts their faces close together.
"You're you." He says.
"I'm yours." She pleads. "You can trust me."
"It's not about trust." He sighs, and the gust of breath brushes her face. "There's just, no use rehashing that unless there are gains, and I can't change the past so..."
"It might bring you closer to the person you tell."
"Or you just end up with another person's shit to live with. I hate to break this to you, but talking doesn't always help, it doesn't always make things clearer, you and your mom chat constantly and it still hasn't prevented you falling out."
She considers this and thinks about Night who's probably who he's told, but of course there's no way she can know that for sure.
"You're not just any person," she starts, "and I already live with your shit." She waits for a second to see if her profanity has any effect, but he remains silent. "Just tell me something." She continues, frustrated, but hesitates before going on, doesn't want them winding up in a fight. "There are actually reasons for me not to trust you, you know. But it's like I don't have a choice, and I really don't know why. I don't understand it, and it's just wrong for me to do something and not know why."
He sighs again, with some tone in his breath this time.
"It might change the way you look at people who are in our life. Definitely Liz, maybe Luke. Perhaps even me! Would you risk that?"
"I've already imagined things."
"Stop doing that." He goes firmly. "Knowing's different."
"Do you hate Liz?" She asks and have to keep her voice even by force of will, the idea of hating your own mother being too out there. Lorelai has been pretty aversive towards Emily through the years, but it's always been clear, at least to Rory, that her mother has wished for their relationship to be better. Jess by contrast seems to avoid contact at all costs, which makes Doula's theory valid, and Rory worried.
"Don't do this." It's his turn to plead. "I am what I am, you don't need to know why, as long as it works. It works. And at some point you might need to accept that you'll never fully understand and still be happy."
"Well, your sister thinks you hate the mother the two of you share, so if that's not the case, maybe you should tell her." Her voice is definitely trembling by now. Shoot.
"I don't hate her!" He says. "Not that I haven't tried. I just, can't forgive her. I've tried that too. I tried." He looks at her earnestly, his eyes darker than the darkness surrounding them, then goes on. "But the thing is: She screwed up with me but she's not the same person to Doula. And just 'cause I feel this way 'bout her doesn't give me the right to wreck Doula's view of her mother."
Rory shakes her head, his reasoning is... reasonable, responsible, and yet...
"That's all neat and stuff, but you should know by now that you can't split things up like that. People aren't an exact science. She knows something's up, and that bleeds into her reality. It's messy, and you have to deal with that somehow. And me!" She takes a sharp breath. "I feel like there's nothing you can't see. I can't even lie myself some personal space, you always see it. And it's not fair, 'cause with you it's like I can't-" Her voice breaks.
"Alright." He says softly, reaching out a hand to grab hers. He sighs, and there are a few moments of silence. "Just one thing."
He places her hand on his forehead, steering her fingers to the little dent in his hairline, she's felt it a hundred times and never asked.
"What's that?" She asks, suddenly afraid.
"No big deal really," he says. "A car accident, not even a bad one. But there were circumstances. Liz lied to the doctor, the police. I was five, I think. It's just one thing, and a lot of what happened wasn't Liz' fault, directly, more what, or who she was under the influence of at the time, but I do know that a parent is supposed to provide a seat belt, in any form. And this was first time I understood that I wasn't... safe. And once that was in my head..."
"It doesn't go away," she finishes.
"No, it doesn't."
For a second they look at each other in complete understanding.
"You remember our accident?" He mumbles unevenly.
"Of course."
"Yeah." He pauses. And she lets the reference sink in. When he speaks again his voice is hushed but sadness still audible. "Okay?"
She sighs.
"Okay."
"I'll talk to Doula," he says, "and... If you still need to know; I can tell you more in eight years."
"Eight years?"
"Doula'll be 18, let the chips fall where they may."
She watches him through the shadows for a while. Tries to imagine him with only Luke's influence. Would he still be silent? Would he still do that thing where he stares at people until they're practically crying? Would he still be deflecting, evasive, instead of confrontational? Would he keep secrets? And would all these things still be construed as kindnesses, the better alternative? Would he still be able to take a beating? And would he still love her - if he didn't feel this need to collect and conserve every kindness and wrong ever done to him?
"A lot can happen in eight years."
"Yeah, or extremely little. It's better for Doula. Liz is sober now. That'll help. And she has this place, a present, albeit silly father, Luke, and she has me."
"And me."
"And you."