G was relieved to walk out of her last English class, despite having been given another book to read as the home assignment. Thankfully the book was 'On the road' by Jack Kerouac which she'd read over the summer out of Rory's book shelf, meaning she only really needed to skim through it before the quiz. She had nothing against reading, she just didn't understand why everything needed to be analyzed down to the letter. She liked to put herself in the character's heads and try to understand their choices, but she really couldn't care less about the methaphors the autors used or how beautifully they put words in order as long as she got the message. That was definitely something that was different about her and Rory.
She hugged some of her friends goodbye, everyone looking cheerful and expectant of the Thanksgiving holidays and of course the related shopping frenzy that would follow.
G opened her locker, deciding to clear it out some junk she had lying around - old materials she no longer needed, some granola bar wrappers, a t-shirt she'd poured some soda on a few weeks ago, taking her time before heading off. She was a little apprehensive because his father was coming that evening to Rory's. He was seeing her place with his own eyes too. And while she wanted to see him, she just wasn't too sure how she would react. The past few months had been rough on her - from excitement and hard work to heartbreak - and she didn't particularly feel like telling him about everything. And perhaps somewhere deep inside she was a little angry at him for leaving too, even if she hadn't quite worded it as such to herself.
The recently renovated modern-looking hallway with thin-striped LEDs in the ceiling, square-shaped futons by the walls and 12th graders 'how to apply to college?' group work posters decorating the walls, looked deserted by the time she'd gathered up her stuff and pulled on her puffy jacket, ready to go home.
As she emerged from the building, she paused, checking over her phone. Back in Boston her father sometimes liked to surprise her by picking her up from school - which was a little embarrasing sometimes, but sweet at the same time. There was no message - the dissapointment mixing with blaming herself for getting her hopes up. It was not as if they'd agreed to anything.
"Hey," she heard, from a figure leaning against the bus stop pole.
As she looked up, for a second there she didn't know how to react - was she happy to see him or should she be worried for some reason?
"Hi," she replied, her mind automatically thinking back the last time she'd looked in a mirror to recall whether she looked okay. She looked a bit worn out - it was the end of a long day, but she'd worn her cute jeans and figured the situation wasn't too horrible. "You're waiting for Philippa? Because I think she already left," she noted, not quite believing he could've been there for her.
"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go hang out or something," Brody replied, as he flipped an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He was wearing a pair of dark grey with black army boots, a simple black bomber jacket over it, most definitely looking hot as ever, and G couldn't really help to feel flattered at that suggestion.
G hadn't meant their hook-up at Philippa's party to turn into anything, besides - she wasn't even legal and he was older, but the very fact that instead of attempting to chat her up online he'd actually made an effort to show up himself, was pretty impressive in the teenager world.
"Umm…, sure," she replied, adding, "I have a few hours I guess before I need to be home."
She wasn't so naive as to not realize what he was after, but she took that as a compliment just the same. It wouldn't really be taking advantage of her if she was enjoying herself, was it?
"I have a place in Lincoln Square," he suggested. She'd thought he lived with Philippa and their parents but clearly he had a place closer to college. Tension lingered, and slowly, while maintaining eye contact, he pulled her closer for a kiss. He was definitely a good kisser, definitely putting the guy she'd met in Stars Hollow to shame. For a moment G was hit with a bang of guilt thinking whether Philippa would mind? But then again she wasn't expecting this to really get serious - did she even need to know? But right now she could definitely use the distraction Brody provided, not wanting to worry or think about her father arriving and flying to Boston late that night, and she slipped her hand into his jacket to feel his abs creating the necessary intimacy to indicate an agreement, making him smirk.
"My god, they're all huge already," Christopher exclaimed as he sat on Rory's parlor couch observing the twins who'd recently been fed, burped and changed, and were now laying on their backs on an activity blanket already. Emma was practicing turning around so she really didn't stay on her back very long if she could help it. Leigh mostly still just arched her back to her left, her muscles still being a little tense. Finny was playing under the coffee table, somehow the table offering the most interesting place to be, with the toy car Christopher had given him ten minutes ago.
"Yeah, and heavy," Rory replied, as she aided Leigh to follow her sister's lead in turning around for some tummy time. She could always tell how the twins liked to be able to see each other, and on their stomachs like that they certainly had a better view point, Emma often grunting as if wanting to move closer to her sister, but still couldn't.
"How you holding up - alone with three of these - it can be easy?" Christopher asked, sounding genuinely interested.
"Oh well, it's better now I guess. It was a little difficult with Leigh for a while, and it's not like I don't have help," she explained. She felt she couldn't complain - she had all the help money could buy and more. It was mostly now about giving herself to all of them emotionally that was a challenge.
"With Logan in London…," he began, specifying what he meant.
"He's working very hard to be back here with us as soon as possible. But it's a difficult position he's in," Rory defended him. She did understand, but it didn't mean she liked it.
"Well if he needs help, advice - I know a thing or two, maybe I could help?" he suggested, meaning well. But Rory seriously doubted it. Logan had been trained his entire life to do this and she knew he consulted with Mitchum at least on bi-weekly basis these days and Mitchum was definitely one of the best in the field, while Christopher had only really been in management position for the past 7 years or so.
"I'll tell him that," Rory said, not wanting to offend him.
"And how have things been with Gigi? I hope she hasn't been too much to handle," he said, taking a sip of his water. To him G would always be Gigi.
"She's definitely the speak first think later kind of person, but honestly - this past month or so I think she'd really been a huge help to me more than anything," she shared.
"Wow, my two daughters are bonding," Christopher sighed, smilingly, having not really expected to hear something as positive as this. He'd always hoped for this, and this almost made up for the guilt that he'd been feeling leaving her in New York like this. "Where is she, anyways - weren't they supposed to have a shorter day or something?" he asked, after glancing at the time. He tried to read all the school newsletters, and he tried to show to G how he knew what they had going on in school, despite the distance.
As he'd said it, the front door made a beep, indicating the lock being opened, and G walked in, looking a little flustered, thankfully the cause not being directly observable in any way.
"Hey kiddo!" Christopher exclaimed and rose to walk over to her.
"Hey, dad," G replied, giving him a hug.
"Wow, how you've grown!" Christopher noted.
"Come on, dad. I haven't grown like... in years," G muttered.
"Yeah, fine, well you look older, smarter," he corrected, feeling happy to just see her. Toyko had it's perks but it was lonely too.
"I'll just go change real quick and finish packing," G replied, wanting to go shower among other things. Going to Brody's had been a trill - just the setting of a real apartment instead of someone's bedroom at a party or while someone's parents were under the same roof - this felt real, like a grown-up relationship even if it was casual.
As G headed upstairs, hastily, again choosing stairs over the elevator Christopher just had to ask Rory, "Any boys I need to be concerned about?"
"Not that I know of," she replied, doubting a little in her reply but she didn't let that doubt show in her tone.
"Good," Christopher sighed. "There were a few guys in Boston she dated - they just didn't seem worthy somehow…," he added.
"Will anyone?" Rory chuckled. It was funny, as when she'd been G's age Christopher, being a young father, had had a very relaxed attitude towards her boyfriends. He'd liked Dean and Logan, but then again they had been very easy to like, and he simply hadn't seen much of Jess when he'd been around. But now as he was older, he seemed to be more and more protective of G. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he'd actually raised G - well to some extent, while with Rory it was easier to be friends with, having only really gotten to know her once she was already brought up.
Mitchum knew he was taking a major risk, likely getting the door slammed to his face, showing up just like this. Hence he'd hesitated, taking a moment, before stepping out of the back seat of the fairly nondescript black Lincoln he'd hired for the day along with a driver.
The building was a five story beige brick building, with some classical accents on the pillars by the entry and a certain 1930s feel, though it could've been newer, located in Portland's Historic West End not too far from the city center. He was lucky enough, not having to ring the bell from downstairs, as some woman was just exiting, his respectable smart casual senior citizen look creating no hesitation in her on his intentions.
He'd gotten the address from Logan, but Logan hadn't quite been able to recall the apartment number. Thankfully it was a place where the mailboxes actually had standardized name tags, which led him up to the second floor, apartment 6. He really wasn't used to doing his own legwork like this, but he knew that this needed a personal touch.
He knocked on the door and waited. He tried to think of it as a business deal - thinking strategically, but usually with business deals he'd know what to expect. But this really wasn't one. Pride, dissapointment and sense of belonging were involved. Perhaps it was too soon? Or too late?
The door opened to the sight of Charlotte, still wearing her pink work scrubs, holding a cup of tea, by the looks of it having just come home from work. Mitchum had seen her briefly at the funeral, but hadn't really gotten a good look at her, hence the full sleeve-arm tattoos that peeked out of her sleeve were a bit of a surprise to him.
"Oh, I was expecting a food delivery," Charlotte sighed sligtly dissapointedly, clearly having not expected him. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm looking for Owen Ward," Mitchum stated.
"And you might be...?" Charlotte asked boldly.
"I'm his father," he replied.
It took Charlotte a moment to really register the fact, trying to think what Owen might want her to do about the situation.
"He's not here," she replied simply.
Mitchum really wasn't used to being in position - in his experience in 10 out of 10 situations he'd be invited in and offered a beverage, likely apologizing for the person not being there. But this was not one of those times.
"I need to talk to him - could you tell me what time he'll be around?" Mitchum asked.
"I cannot really be sure, he's on some volunteer thing with his class," Charlotte explained. It was soup kitchen duty or packing food packages for the poor - something of the sort. Charlotte wasn't a selfish person as such, but after what she felt was a day full of too much work for too little pay which nursing essentially was no matter whether one worked with in a hospital or a private practice, with kids or with adults, and she just felt like she was doing enough for the society. She had had a bit of a rebellious streak when she was growing up - fighting for anything from equal rights to environmental issues, she was also an active member of the nurse's union - but after years of fighting she was experiencing a bit of a motivational crisis - feeling like she simply needed a break from all that and struggled showing enthusiasm for things like that, even though she knew it was just part of what Owen did for a living.
"Right," he replied. Mitchum pondered whether he should leave his number or ask for his, thinking that technically he could just ask Logan. But somehow a phone call as first contact didn't feel right.
"I can tell him you dropped by," she offered.
Mitchum hesitated - wouldn't that just scare him away? There was no guarantee that he'd do anything if she said that.
"Do you think he'd be willing to see me if you did that?" Mitchum asked out front.
"He might, he might not," Charlotte shrugged. She'd talked a little about him with Owen, but Owen had shown definitely more hesitance towards seeing him than eagerness to actually have contact with him. But then again this had been before his mother had passed.
"Any chance you might invite me in so I could wait for him?" Mitchum decided to push it a little. Logan hadn't told him about Charlotte's inclination toward wanting something more from life than she had now, this was the assumption Mitchum had about most people - if she was like most people - she might see more benefits in Owen interacting with him. Unless of course she too was like Rory.
And he really wasn't wrong this time.
Thankfully the waiting time wasn't terribly long as some ten minutes after the Thai food she'd ordered arrived, so did Owen. Charlotte and Mitchum had made some small-talk, but the woman was definitely the confident kind, rather taking the stance that him being there was what Mitchum should've done a long time ago. Mitchum, on the other hand, was scouting her - he wanted to know whether she might be an ally to him. He wasn't as blindsighted as he'd been with Logan ten-fifteen years ago that he was going to trick his other son into living up to the expectations, Logan had fought against, simply by manipulating him together with Charlotte. Owen needed to want to do what he wanted to propose, but his wife's support certainly didn't hurt.
Charlotte hadn't blindsighted Owen, having texted him in passing that his father was there, pretty much not taking 'no' for an answer. He'd almost rushed home feeling angry and frustrated, on top of being exhausted from his day, almost wanting to scream before saying 'hi'. How did he dare to just push himself into his life like this? But as he got there and finally saw him, he barely got a modest "Hi," out.
"Owen," he nodded. "Mitchum Huntzberger," he introduced himself officially by extending out his hand. Owen didn't shake it, but made himself busy by taking off his jacket and placing his backpack onto a chair where he usually kept it.
"I apologize for barging in like this, but I hoped we might have a word," Mitchum said, feeling the apology was perhaps necessary to ease him into it. He could've technically waited a day or two, but he really just wanted to get home himself, having flown in straight from London. He was extending an olive branch, but he was still someone who put his own wellbeing before that of others.
"First of all, my condolences on your loss," Mitchum said, knowing there was no escaping the topic. Catherine's passing had touched him too - it seemed everyone around him was dying - having just been to London for a funeral among other things.
"Thanks," he muttered. Owen had naturally googled the man before, but still seeing him there in flesh felt he couldn't help but to notice some traits that reminded him of either himself or Logan. But he looked old - balding, wrinkly and weaker than in any of the pictures he'd ever seen of him - and that was something he'd never really pictured his father to be. Well, not at least during the first time they met in person, the image of him from some older pictures always rather popping into his mind.
"I'll leave you guys…," Charlotte excused herself to their bedroom, taking a box of food with her and shut the door behind her. She wanted to listen in, and was able to if she stayed quiet enough herself, but the tension was so thick she just didn't feel comfortable staying in the room with them.
"So…," Owen began, as he walked to the open kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He took a sip.
"How much did your mother tell you about my reasons for being out of the picture?" Mitchum asked, knowing he needed to clear the air at least in some extent to even begin to suggest what he wanted.
"Not much, but I figured the gist out pretty early on my own, and later Logan told me a little about Shira and Elias," Owen replied, leaning against the kitchen cabinet.
"For what it's worth now - I am sorry for the choice I had to make. I know it wasn't an honorable thing to do but I like to think that I did what I could to make sure you were taken care of," he expressed his regret perhaps for the first time. The alternative would've been losing Logan, Honor and the HPG.
"I'm not mad at you," Owen admitted, surprising him somewhat. Owen had accepted it. Working at a school definitely provided an accurate comparison to kids who had grown up with a lot less than he had had - it didn't even matter whether that was role model, money or love.
Mitchum hadn't expected to feel such relief as he did then. For nearly 30 years he'd lived with the assumption that Owen hated him for the choice he'd made.
"But I am not sure what you are doing here," Owen added, before he had a chance to really form a decent concise reaction to what he'd learned. He really wasn't sure if a relationship with him was what he needed. It just felt awkward to him at this stage.
Mitchum appreciated his attitude - and he agreed. He wasn't there to rekindle a relationship as such. His real goal was something else, but then again if that happened to create a line of communication between them he wouldn't have objected it. He didn't know how to be a father in the classical sense, no less to an adult.
"I went to see Logan in London a few days ago," Mitchum said, beginning to explain his reason for coming. "And we decided that we deserve to make you a proposition. All I ask is that you hear me out and think about it. It's more about helping Logan than me, but I figured this needed to come from me," he added.
The mention of Logan certainly caught his attention and tuned him differently than he'd walked into his apartment that evening.. He respected Logan, and believed that anything he'd agreed to suggest to him, couldn't have been that horrible. Hearing him out wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, would it?