Paris sat at her office in Harford interviewing a series of potential OB/GYN-s for the clinic. Her office was experiencing a bit of a baby boom of it's own and to Paris the whole thing - how adults who worked in the business couldn't handle some simple math in planning their own procreation - seemed just ridiculous, leaving her with the assignment of hiring several temps which met her criteria. Not an easy task in Hartford.
She'd just finished interviewing an elderly male doctor whose idea of modern medicine was that of 20-something years ago, despite having excellent credentials and recommendations. This was not one of those businesses where they settled for things like that. This wasn't a popularity contests - she expected real results i.e babies, not necessarily fluffy bedside manner. For years Paris had been considering taking upon a partner to her business but she these days was glad she hadn't - this kept her occupied. She had trouble trusting people and not just in her personal life - this also followed her to work. People had to earn her trust, but at work this was much more easily achieved than privately.
"Next!" she called out and her receptionist, who'd to her surprise had managed to keep her job already for nearly three years despite some original hesitance from her side, gestured the next applicant into her office.
"Dr. Vikki Irwin," the short woman in a dark combed over pixie cut, wearing a slightly boyish mayoral blue power suit, showing notable cleavage, said and offered Paris her hand to shake. The color was almost too bright against Paris' eyes. Paris usually really appreciated a good power suit and those who chose to wear, and she was definitely pulling it off, but somehow the bright red Nike's that topped the suit off just left her utterly confused.
"Have a seat," Paris shook the applicant's hand in greeting and gestured towards the white swivel chairs opposite her desk, continuing to disinfect her hand with sanitiser unapologetically.
"So," Paris began, briefly glancing over her resume that she'd already perused through earlier. Her credentials were good, recommendations as well - frankly she was more concerned why on Earth was she choosing to work in a tiny clinic in Hartford rather than at their New York clinic or the clinics of one of her many competitors across the country. "Why do you want this job?" she asked.
"Because it is one of the few clinics in Hartford that doesn't seem to settle for average," Vikki replied, and crossed her legs as she relaxed into the chair.
Paris almost wanted to roll her eyes at that response. Flattery really wasn't one of the ways get on her payroll.
"So what is it that makes you above average?" Paris continued.
"Harvard Med School, I did my residency at the Mayo Clinic, then moved on to the Cleveland Clinic. MacArthur Fellows Program in 2012, Bayer Award in 2014, Berlex Foundation Award in 2018, BIRCWH, NAMS and WRHR since then - it's all right there," she added a little cockily, nodding towards the tablet Paris had in front of her.
Paris leaned back in her chair and crossed her high-heeled legs almost demonstratively, taking a dramatic pause to consider what to ask next.
Instead of following up with a standard "What are you looking for in a job?" she decided to put her list of awards to a test instead.
"A 18-year-old G0 presents to your office with secondary amenorrhea. She menstruated for 5 years, but her last menses was 11 months ago. History and physical exam are otherwise unremarkable. Laboratory testing reveals: Prolactin 18 ng/mL, TSH 2.4 mIU/L, FSH 45 IU/L, Estrogen 25 pg/mL, HCG 5 mIU/mL. What is the cause of this patient's amenorrhea?"
"Mutations in the FSH receptor resulting in ovarian failure," Vikki replied calmly without needing much time to think.
Paris shot a few more of these practise questions at her but she didn't budge, instead replying with almost unnerving confidence.
"How are you under stress?" Paris asked, leaning against her desk. The question was near-ridiculous - most of the applicants would've already crumbled under the stress of the sudden pop-quiz she'd just subjected her to.
Vikki didn't even reply, simply smirked at her.
"Well?" Paris asked again.
"Haven't had an issue yet," she eventually replied.
"We have a lot of high profile clients here. Are you able to keep the smugness down with patients?" Paris asked, beginning to get infuriated.
"In Cleveland my patient rating was 9.5, that involves the so-called "bad news" patients that made up nearly one third of my cases," Vikki replied.
"Why Hartford?" Paris inquired, her tone relaxing a little. While infuriating, she really did seem like the type of doctor that might just meet her criteria. But something made her hesitant - she was too confident somehow, looking too directly at her. She wasn't afraid of her.
"Good schools," she replied, revealing the very same reason Paris had moved back to Hartford a couple of years ago.
Paris knew she wasn't supposed to ask about kids, or future plans of having kids, even though she wanted to. But this question already answere it in part. So she simply took a deep breath and let it go.
"Alright, We'll be in touch," Paris replied as she rose from her seat with a straight back. She could've just hired her right there - she was the first decent applicant she'd seen all day. But she didn't like to show her hand in cases like this, and especially with someone too confident for their own good.
"G?" Rory called out not too loudly as she was almost about to reach the 6th floor where G's apartment was. She'd just put the babies and Finny down for the night. But she wasn't sure if G was still up.
Rory could soon hear some music playing in her apartment - some soft indie rock, which was almost a little sleepy.
"Yeah?" G replied, as Rory peeked in through the door. G was sitting on her curved velvet couch, a couple of textbooks and her notebook in front of her, studying.
"Do you mind if we talk?" Rory asked.
"Sure, I'm almost done anyways," G replied and closed her civics textbook.
"I thought about what we talked about the other day," Rory began. She'd pondered this one way and another, she'd considered being tough about it and chill, she'd even considered what her mother would've done but none of it really seemed to apply here.
G looked at her hopefully.
"I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to do here - if I give you the green light and something happens it's my responsibility, and if I don't you'll hate me for it. I don't particularily want some people I don't know in the house either - I want to protect my kid's privacy. But I don't want you sneaking around and going to some creepy places to do it either," Rory tried to explain. "I guess… what I am saying is that I should at least meet the guy, I mean just know his name, whether he treats you well, and I just need you to tell me again that you're taking all the precautions," Rory added.
"I am. An IUD and always a condom," G assured.
"Good," Rory sighed, feeling at least a little relieved.
"But I am not sure I can get him to agree to meeting you. We're not dating as such… I don't know. It'd be kind of awkward," G added.
"Meeting me is the awkward part?" Rory exclaimed, feeling little amused of her statement. When she'd been her age, the sex talk would've definitely been the awkward part.
"Well if you want to bring him here, then that's what he'll have to do," Rory stood her ground.
"He doesn't need to come here, it's just that his place is kind of messy and gross," G explained, making a face.
"He has his own place?" Rory asked, squinting her nose at the thought of G having sex in a place that is as she'd put it - gross.
"Yes, and it's a nice place and all, don't worry - he's just not too eager to clean it, you know guys," G added, rolling her eyes.
"Can you at least show me a picture of him, tell me about him," Rory requested. She wasn't sure it was going to be enough but he was leaning towards budging from her earlier standpoint.
"Fine," G relented and pulled up her phone and settled next to Rory with her legs pulled up. "This is Brody, he's my friend Philipa's brother," he showed Rory a picture. There was a picture of him with G on his lap and another one him while he was smoking looking very hot against a brick wall which was a little artistic. The smoking alone set alarm bells off in Rory's head.
"How old is he?" Rory asked, observing him for a moment. There was just something about the guy that made him seem older than G, something about his confidence, and the mention of him having his own place certainly added to it.
G knew she was screwed now, and was therefore unwilling to reply.
"G?!" Rory insisted.
"He goes to NYU, he's not that much older," G confessed. Frankly she hadn't even asked him yet. She didn't want to know. Asking that would probably lead her to admit herself that she just 16 and ruin things.
"You're 16, he's breaking the law if he's older than 18!" Rory spoke clearly and sternly.
"I'll be 17 next month, and the law is just ridiculous," G tried to argue. Rory had hard time grasping how fast time had passed this fall - that's what happened with kids in the house.
"Does he know how old you are?" Rory asked.
G didn't reply, realizing that her whole plan was going down the drain.
"G…," Rory began, still gathering her words. "When I agreed for you to come and live with us, we agreed on a couple of things, right? Well I think it's time we add something to that list. I know I can't make you not interact with him, I can't watch you every second," she admitted. "But I can't allow you to continue this - not when you're 16. I'll call his parents if I have to," Rory threatened.
"You wouldn't!" G exclaimed in horror and rose from her seat, clearly being upset.
Rory really hadn't wanted to do it, but she had hoped that simply scaring her a little might just bring her to her senses. She needed to stand her ground on this - she wouldn't be able to stop it if she did it anyways, but she could at least state her rule. She didn't know kind of loss of privliges her misbehavior could actually lead to - she was so new at this. Rory knew that telling their dad was the last straw, but that would also mean that their friendship was probably lost along with it. She really didn't want to go there.
"Is he the same guy you were crying about a couple of weeks ago?" Rory asked, recalling it.
"No," she replied, her arms crossed on her stomach.
"So he's a rebound?" Rory tried to understand.
"No… I don't know… Maybe," G replied hesitantly. She wanted it not to be, but she really wasn't sure. She'd still had a few fallbacks with browsing Finn's Instagram. She'd seen him out and enjoying himself, in parties, boating and hanging out on the beach, female company being implied if not intentionally exhibited. She was trying.
Rory looked at her closely, almost expecting her to get the point herself.
"He's nice to me, he's really good at… you know. He finds me interesting. I almost thought this was just a hook-up, but he's actually really nice," G tried to defend him.
"You need to tell him how old you are, then preferably wait until you're 17…," Rory discussed, realizing it was probably a hopeless cause to convince her to wait like that. "If he really cares - he'll wait. It's just next month - you said it yourself," she added, hoping that at least one of them would see the sense in waiting.
G was visibly upset, her eyes swelling with tears already. It wasn't the type of sobbing that one did in case of a broken heart or at the loss of someone, rather the kind when one didn't get what one wanted.
"Invite your other friends over, do a movie night or something. Having sex is not the only way to make you feel better or less lonely," Rory tried to explain, beginning to grasp that this really was what this was about.
"Are you going to tell dad?" she sobbed.
"Not now. I don't want to but... I can't have you lying to a guy about your age and making him the lawbreaker because of it. Beside he smokes - that's kind of nasty. I mean I get it - I've had a bad boy crush at your age too - it's hot, it feels nice to be wanted like that," she explained, referring to Jess, trying to reason with her.
G almost wanted to say that she didn't understand, and that was like a million years ago when Rory had been a teenager. She almost felt like adding that there was nothing she could do and she hated her. But somehow this time she managed to hold her tongue. Rory was the only fixed thing she had in her life right now. Friends, guys - they came and went - sisters stayed, right?
"Fine, I'll tell him," G said reluctantly. There were few things she'd rather not do than that and she wasn't sure she wouldn't just ghost him to avoid the whole thing.
Rory almost wanted to say that she was proud of her, but didn't just yet, unsure if she was actually going to do it. She trusted her, but she didn't trust her that much just yet. But Rory hugged her then, recognizing that whatever this was it was still hard for her. Simple things like this were sometimes much harder for teenagers than they were for adults, and she didn't want to downgrade her problems. She could feel G hugging back, clearly needing it.
"Hey, you want to Stars Hollow with me on Friday?" Rory asked instead, as they pulled apart, hoping it would give her something else to think about. "It's the store opening," she specified. "The kids are staying, so it'll be just you and me," she added.
"Sure," G sighed, wiping the last of her tears off her cheek with her sleeve.
Finn woke to the sound of some kitchenware crashing onto the galley floor, followed by a disappointed, "Oh, crap…" with the hesitant whisper of "sorry," some seconds later.
Finn turned, glanced briefly out the small cabin window, noting that indeed the sun was already pretty high. They'd stayed up well past midnight last night, simply talking, and just the thought that she was right there, outside that cabin door, probably attempting to make breakfast, made him feel warm inside. He still felt a little embarrassed of having laid everything on the table like he'd done last night as if wanting to shed the heaviness he carried. And he still worried a little, whether that or simply the fact that he didn't have the most exemplary track record with women, which she yet didn't know about in great detail, would somehow influence what this could be. Of course he really didn't know what this could be, having not really figured out himself what he wanted this to be.
He didn't want to leave her out there entertain herself while he lingered in bed, despite the fact that he probably could've used a few more hours of sleep, and pulled himself up and headed for the small on-suite to wash up.
By the time he emerged Charlie, wearing the same clothes she'd had on yesterday and having already braided her hair into a messy fishtail - clearly having had some time in her hands, was already frying them in an omelette on the pan.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I'm such a klutz sometimes," Charlie said apologetically, as she saw him emerge from his cabin from the corner of her eye and glanced briefly at him
"Good morning," Finn said, adding, "it's fine - I don't want to sleep all day. And oh trust me, I easily could," he noted, running his fingers through his slightly salty and messy hair that he hadn't bothered washing, knowing he'd be back in the water soon enough.
She smiled at him, the last night's conversation having made some of the previous nervousness disappear, but not entirely, and an evident anticipation lingered in the air.
"Anything I can do to help?" he offered, feeling a little useless.
"You can pour out the coffee," Charlie suggested.
Finn stepped next to her, just an inch between them, and pushed down the French press and poured them both a cup of coffee, adding a small dash of milk that was already waiting on the table. He sank down on the bench seat by the galley table and observed her, not too bluntly, while sipping on his coffee.
"I didn't ask how you like your eggs…, I hope this is okay," she added, as she brought breakfast to the table.
"I'm not picky," Finn replied, sensing that she was worrying unnecessarily.
The two ate wordlessly for a few minutes. He just wanted her to relax, not feel like she needed to impress him. But he couldn't help it either - he was probably similarly a little hesitant. He'd made a step towards making himself vulnerable to her and that was what set her, and this situation, apart from his usual flirting that he could do on auto-pilot in any club he set his foot in.
"So I was thinking we should take the boat to Amity Point for snorkeling, because we can't get the car like we had yesterday," Finn explained the practicalities, having asked the rental company about the car when he'd dropped it off. "And if we want we can take the bus from there to surf later, if we want," he added.
"Sounds good," she replied, taking another bite, while she sat with the fingers of her other hand tucked under her thigh.
"Let's just try to relax, okay?" Finn said, feeling like he needed to say something.
"Is it that obvious?" Charlie narrowed her eyes as she said it.
"I think….," Finn began, pondering how to say it. "I think I need to be reminded of that just the same," he added with the sigh.
He could tell she didn't quite get why he was nervous.
"I'm the rusty one here," Charlie almost argued, looking like she was a little ashamed of it. Considering the timeline, she'd been on her own for over a year and before that with the same person for years.
Finn blew out a lungful of air, thinking. Maybe if he just got the physical part out of the way - it would be easier? But he didn't want to just get this out of the way. This was worth something more, wasn't it? - he pondered.
"I tend to rush things," Finn confessed. "Right now - I'm trying really hard not to. That's why I'm nervous," he explained, tapping his fingers on the table, his eyes not quite daring to look at her, sensing that she might get what he meant by rushing things. This was certainly one thing he'd never before felt embarrassed of. It was almost like he didn't trust himself yet.
Charlie squeezed his hand then, stopping the nervous tapping, and their eyes met. She smiled and somehow that along with her touch calmed him.