Eventually he returns to the diner, upon her request, and leaves her alone in the house. Rory has headed off to the Stars Hollow Gazette. Lorelai stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter drinking a cup of coffee. Her mind wanders as she stares blankly at her toaster.
April 21st, 1997—
She takes a seat at a table near the window at Luke's. Rory sits next to her, with her nose in a book. Luke stops next to her, and impatiently taps his foot as he waits for her to order.
"Coffee, and pancakes," she requests.
"I'll have the same," Rory adds, without looking up.
"You're killing her brain cells," Luke chides her.
"She is the one drinking it," Lorelai argues.
"You are the one allowing it," he points out.
"Coffee! Please! I'm dying here. I am literally languishing as we speak," Lorelai responds dramatically.
He huffs, and rolls his eyes as he walks away. He quickly returns with two fresh cups of coffee. He returns behind the counter. Lorelai grabs her cup, and takes a big swig. Her face puckers, reminding Rory of the time Lucy tried to sell vitametavegamin.
"The vitametavegamin isn't what you had hoped?" Rory questions.
Lorelai looks at her cup, "This coffee tastes like dirt. Can I have yours?"
"What if mine tastes like dirt?"
"Try it and see," Lorelai suggests.
Rory takes a sip of her coffee, "You are crazy, it tastes fine."
"Trade me cups."
"Whatever," Rory rolls her eyes.
Lorelai swaps her cup for Rory's. She takes another large drink of coffee, with a similar outcome.
"What is your problem today?" Rory quizzes.
"What are you talking about?"
"First you sleep through your alarm clock, and now Luke's coffee tastes like dirt to you?"
Lorelai shrugs, "Not my day, I guess."
June 5th, 1997
Lorelai races down the stairs, already running late for work. She finds Rory sitting on the couch with a pile of bags, waiting on her. Rory hands her a travel mug full off coffee.
"We need to go, we're going to be late."
Lorelai accepts the cup, and furrows her brow, "Are you moving out?"
"No," Rory shakes her head.
"What's with the suitcase?"
"We are going on a field trip."
"To the moon?" Lorelai tries to recall.
"To New York. Remember? I had to sell wrapping paper as a fundraiser?"
"I vaguely recall that."
"And you had to sign a permission slip, and write a check."
"I did?"
"Yes," Rory confirms.
"When did I do that?"
"Like three months ago. It was before Easter," Rory reminds her.
"I don't remember. I'm sorry," Lorelai admits.
"I brought home the permission slip over spring break."
"Spring break? What did we do over spring break?"
"You worked, because you forgot I was on spring break. You were supposed to take a few days off, but you forgot to turn in your slip for time off. It was the second week in March. Remember? You went and bought the crap-mobile."
"Ah, yes. That was almost three months ago?"
"Yes. I don't have time to discuss this. Mom, I need to be at the school in five minutes."
"Okay."
June 5th, 1997—
Lorelai returns home to an empty house. She orders Chinese, and grabs her planner, and the remote, and retires to the couch. She flips open her planner to March. She finds a large circle, and a reminder written in Rory's handwriting, 'Turn in Permission Slip and check', is written on March 17th. She studies the entries for March. She is suddenly overwhelmed by a sinking feeling. She turns back to February, and then past March to April. She skips May, and goes straight to June.
A sticker reminds her of a wedding at the inn on Saturday. She has been in the thick of wedding season since the beginning of May. A lump begins to form in her throat. She abruptly vacates her seat on the couch, and makes a beeline for her bathroom. She races up the stairs like a mad woman.
When she reaches the master bathroom she pulls open the cabinet door, and finds a pile of toilet paper underneath the sink. She shoves the Charmin aside, and grabs the bag sitting next to it. It is a Doose's bag, containing a pack of Tampax. She furrows her brow, and attempts to recall when she last bought tampons. Sticking to the side of the box is a receipt. She peels the receipt off the package, and silently reads the date. Her heart skips a beat.
She lowers herself to the floor. She stares at the box in disbelief. She shakes her head, and tries to collect her thoughts. Her breathing begins to become rapid, and shallow. She tries to quiet the swirl of racing thoughts in her head. Her attempts prove futile.
"I haven't had a period since February?" She closes the cabinet doors, and leans against the cabinets as she sits on the floor. "That can't be right. Can it? Oh, no. No, no, no. This cannot be happening."