!Shout out to two very lovely reviewers: Nancy and 52Shari. It's a great feeling to have such strong supporters. I look forward to your reviews each time I post!
If Rory walked around the block for the fifth time, someone would call the cops. It was a Saturday afternoon so Rory was sure Jess would be home. She didn't want to give him a chance to turn her away so she was waiting to slip in behind one of his neighbors. Rory was glad she talked herself out of the black beret and black sunglasses. There was such a thing as being too sneaky. Finally, the cute couple she followed turned and walked towards Jess's building. They unlocked the lobby door and held the door open for Rory. Nice people.
Rory spent the ride up to Jess's apartment talking herself out of being there in the first place. Rory hadn't talked to anyone about her plan to visit Jess. Not Lane, not her mother, and not Deva. Taking in the peeling white paint on Jess's door, Rory rang the bell. She couldn't hear any noise from the other side of the door. If Jess wasn't home, she could write this whole thing off as a stupid idea and continue making sad phone calls for forgiveness. She could return her gift and everyone would be none the wiser.
Jess opened the door and stared at her. Rory swallowed and held out a gift bag to him. "I bought more scotch."
He took the bag and peeked inside. "Looks cheap," he said.
Rory rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder before dragging him into a hug. "I'm so sorry," she said into his shoulder.
Jess patted her on the back of the head. "Give it a rest. I deal with enough snot during my day job."
Rory laughed and walked inside. Jess shut the door behind them and rummaged through the bag some more.
"What's with the chips and dip?" he asked.
"It's lunch. I've got the whole food pyramid. Tortilla chips, carb. Salsa, fruit, and vegetables. Dinking scotch in the middle of the day is a cry for help."
Jess tossed the bag on the couch. "I prefer Chinese and scotch," he said before grabbing a menu from the many that decorated his coffee table.
"What are you doing?" Rory asked as Jess held his phone up to his ear.
"Getting Chinese."
"On the phone?" Rory asked, sitting next to her bag of chips, salsa, and scotch.
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"No problem. I just didn't realize that it was 2001 again. Ever heard of something called "an app"?"
Jess shook his head and recited his order into the phone before ending the call. "The phone is faster."
"What if you order and suddenly and realize you don't have any cash?"
"I always carry cash," Jess replied.
"Luke, is that you?" Rory asked with a laugh.
"You talk a lot of shit for someone who came here to grovel."
Rory's laughter stopped at once. Jess was right. She was schlepped all the way to beg for forgiveness because she had been a dick and now, she was still being a dick.
"Rory, c'mon, I was joking," Jess said, sitting down next to her. "I stopped being mad at you weeks ago."
"Weeks ago? But you haven't talked to me. You never texted back."
Jess ruffled his own hair. "The spring semester's almost here so I've been playing catch up and trying to submit all my grades in time. One of the other English teachers 'found herself' on a birthright trip and hauled ass to become a Rabbi. I got stuck with all her shit. Grading over 300 essays really sucks the life outta you."
Jess popped into his bedroom and came back out holding a velcro and fabric contraption. "I had to buy a fucking wrist brace. I'm falling apart over here."
"It's like you're aging before my very youthful eyes," Rory replied.
Jess tossed the brace at her and rolled her eyes. Rory caught it and began to fiddle with it. "I am sorry Jess. It was messed up to bail on an interview that you worked hard on getting me. I could've called."
"You know," Jess replied, "Usually I make my kids write a four-page thesis on what they did wrong before I accept an apology but, I'll make an exception for old friends."
Rory smiled, "Thanks for treating me better than I deserve, Jess."
Over fried rice, potstickers, and reasonably priced scotch, Rory brought Jess up to speed on the car crash that was her life.
"Pharma advertising, huh?" Jess said after she mentioned her job, "Not bad. I hear that's good money."
"Yep. I bought that scotch all by myself, like a big girl."
"You plan on sticking it out at this place?" he asked.
Rory shrugged. "It's something to do until I find an actual writing job."
Jess nodded and scooped a spoonful of rice into his mouth. Rory dug into the takeout bag and pulled out a fortune cookie. She broke it open before taking a deep breath.
"You know, I started going to therapy," she confessed.
"No shit? Welcome to the club. What made you go?"
Probably the fact that she would always be Logan's dirty little secret. Rory blinked at the thought that decided to stab her right between the eyes. Rory shook the thought loose. "It was a lot of stuff squished into one. I thought I was handling it but Paris told me I was acting crazy, so I decided to take the plunge."
"Paris Geller called you crazy? Did you shoot up a school?"
"Shut up," Rory replied, flicking a stray rice grain at him. "All you have to know is that when you're too crazy for Paris Geller, you have to do something about it."
Jess nodded, "Truer words have never been spoken, man."
Sitting alone in Logan's apartment, Rory was shocked that she had forgotten one of the major reasons she had started going to therapy in the first place. Her career as a journalist was going nowhere. No one had responded to her about open positions. She couldn't even get an 'all positions are filled' email. It was pathetic. The longer Rory went without an interview the farther away Rory tumbled away from being the one thing she'd dreamed her whole life of being: a journalist. Thinking thoughts like that, the idea of staying put as a senior editor in the wonderfully boring world of pharmaceutical advertising didn't sound so bad. She'd have a steady paycheck, at least and would be able to stop leaching off of Logan. But God, she was a journalist! That is what she was meant to be! Not a proofreader who clicked buttons all-day to make sure there weren't too many spaces in a paragraph. That wasn't supposed to be her. She was supposed to do more with her life. She slid into bed, alone and anxious.
There had to be more to life than that.
The next morning, Rory was alone again. Everything was in the same state that she had left it when she went to bed so Logan hadn't come home at all. Rory wasn't annoyed by that anymore. It had been happening so much that it had turned into a new normal. He'd eventually scrape himself up from whatever floor he was passed out on and come back. Where else would he be on a Sunday morning?
She was at the kitchen island trying to figure out whether instant ramen being the first meal of the day made her a hot mess when her phone rang. Seeing James' face on her phone sent her into a panic. James didn't believe in phone calls. And he was calling her before noon? Somebody had to have died.
"James?" she asked after she snatched her phone up, "What's wrong? What's going on?"
"Nothing? What's your problem?"
"My problem? James, you're the one using your phone to call me instead of sending me Spongebob memes at 10 in the morning. Either something or someone is on fire."
"I do other stuff on my phone," James said.
"Watching people play Fortnite doesn't count as other stuff, you little turd."
"Whatever mega turd. Queen of Turdland. Mother of the turd dragons."
"I'm hanging up."
"Wait, wait, wait! Don't hang up! I need your help," James pleaded.
"You're barking up the wrong tree. Gous shakedown grandma, she actually likes you."
"Ugh, it's not money. It's a girl," he said, voice breaking.
"A girl? Like a real girl?" Rory said.
"No, a fake girl. What do you think?"
Rory could picture James rolling his eyes but she didn't care. This was a big moment. A big, big moment. James had come to her about girl problems. It made sense since Rory couldn't think of another girl with as many problems as her at the moment.
"Um, okay, alright." Rory took a deep breath. "What's the problem."
"Brenda Nichols kissed me," James said. "On the mouth!"
"When did you become a Cassanova?" Rory asked.
"A what? Rory, what am I supposed to do?"
Rory wracked her brain. She hadn't been 8 for a long, long time and back when she was 8 she certainly was kissing boys on the mouth.
"Maybe you should talk to Luke about this," she replied.
"Ew, no. I need help from an actual girl. You only kiss people on the mouth cause you wanna be their girlfriend, right?"
"Right?"
"That's what I thought! But Mackenzie saw Brenda kissing Joon the other day. Does she want me or Joon? Do I gotta fight him for her? I don't see the point of that because Joon and Crystal hang out with each other every weekend and eat lunch together every day and you can't have two girlfriends, that's not allowed. Is that allowed?"
"Uh, you should only have one girlfriend or boyfriend at a time but sometimes people have more than one. Those people are bad. Bad, bad people."
"Okay, so what do I do? I like Brenda but she can't kiss people that aren't me! It's BS!"
Trying to navigate the Dangerous Liaisons of the playground was too much for Rory this early in the morning. Especially when she had her own problems to deal with.
"Look. You can't tell Brenda who she can and can't kiss. Uh, it's her body and she can do what she wants with it. If you don't like it, tell her to stop kissing you."
"That's it?"
"Yes." Maybe? Rory didn't know but it didn't matter. James was eight. In a week the whole thing would be behind him.
"Fine. Hey Rory, can you Venmo me $50?"
"No! I just got this new job which I won't be staying in so I need to save my money."
"Mom told me your new job is easy, pays you lots of money, and lets you go home early so I know you're not quitting. Lemme borrow $50!"
"I am quitting, go beg grandma for money."
"Why are you quitting?"
"I want to be a writer again, so when I find another writing job I'll quit this one."
"Does writing pay more?"
"Not really?"
"Is it easier?"
"Definitely not."
"So why are you quitting? If I had your job I would stay and keep all the money and be rich and write when I come home early."
"You can't do that."
"Why not?"
Rory blinked. Why couldn't she? Rory ended the call soon after, with James still pestering her an advance to probably buy a new sword in one of his games.
If Rory wasn't a journalist than what was she? Other people had hobbies or kids or spouses. All Rory had was writing. All Rory ever had was writing. It was the constant in her life. She didn't always have a father but she had writing. Men in her life had come and gone, but she could write.
If Rory wasn't a writer, she was just Rory Gilmore.
But who the hell was Rory Gilmore?