Summary: A new conflict surfaces in Rory and Jess's relationship, manifested as they struggle to define themselves as adults.
Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual innuendo. Nothing graphic.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated. I won't withhold writing for feedback, but it certainly makes it feel more worthwhile. I'd love to hear anything, a sentence you liked, a piece of the story, your general thoughts. Anything.
Author's Notes: Rory's POV. This is a bit of a departure from my usual style. I hope you guys like it. I was trying for a more realistic feel than some stuff. Let me know what you think. The T is the Boston subway. I used as many facts as I could but obviously, some stuff is made up. The main titles and chapter titles are e.e. cummings quotes.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the other creators of the Gilmore Girls universe.
Ch. 3: a coward waiting clumsily to cease whom every perfect thing meanwhile doth miss
As I climbed the steps up from the T station by my apartment that afternoon, it started to rain. Fat drops dotted my light blue tank top, and I pulled my notebook to my chest, protecting it. A few tourists nearby struggled to hide their cameras under their wind breakers.
Frustrated with the slow moving pedestrians, I breathed out harshly and fought my way down the crowded sidewalk. It had taken all my strength to get through an hour and a half lecture without breaking down, and this wasn't the time to become the local crazy lady and start weeping on the street. Blinking back rain, I ran across an intersection and a driver blared his horn at me. I gave him the finger as I bounded up the steps to my apartment.
I slammed through the door, taking off my sandals, tossing the keys on the table. Safely inside, I opened the fridge and searched for the Thai food left over from the night before. As the microwave hummed to itself, I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter, deep in thought.
Jess's news was beginning to sink in, but my thoughts weren't any clearer than when I'd first heard him say the words. A whole year. I was self-aware enough to know that I was upset, but I couldn't justify my reaction. Our separation in the past had been my doing; while I attended college, Jess had stayed behind in Stars Hollow working whatever odd jobs came along, allowing me time to spread my wings and test the wind. Who was I to say that he didn't have the same right to pursue his own dreams now, even if it meant more time apart?
It still hurt, though. For the last two years, ever since I'd moved to Boston for grad-school, we'd talked about getting an apartment in Cambridge. A place of our own, where we could leave dirty dishes in the sink and open books all over the living room. A place where we could have sex on the kitchen floor without worrying that we'd wake my Christian Fundamentalist roommate. I had been sure that was what we both wanted, what we both had been working towards all this time, but now my confidence in that idea was shaken. What if this was just the beginning to the long road of breaking up? Did he see this as an opportunity to gain time away from me?
It had been six years since I'd left Stars Hollow, six years of a long distance relationship with a man who gave me shivers when I heard his voice on the phone, a man who broke my heart every time he said goodbye for another week. Six years of putting each other on hold, commuting back and forth, cell phone conversations that cut out in the middle of important news. The time at Yale hadn't been so bad—it wasn't too far from home—but the next two years at Harvard were a real struggle. I was sick of finding time between classes to call him, sick of cutting short visits for a term paper that was due.
The microwave beeped, and I pulled out the plate, burned my hand, dropped the plate on the counter. I was still scraping ruined pad thai into the trash when the door opened, and my roommate Faith came in. She always left work early on Tuesdays for her Bible study meeting. What are you having? she asked, setting her shoulder bag down on the table. A dozen photocopies of Psalm 23 spilled onto the table, and she hurriedly swept them back into the bag, looking faintly embarrassed. I pretended not to notice.
I'd met Faith by way of a phone number tacked to a bulletin board my first week in Boston. She was a reference librarian at the Boston Public Library, friendly and easy-going and nonintrusive in my personal life—except when it came to Jess. Sweet as she was, she couldn't bring herself to hide her vast disapproval of my sardonic boyfriend who often appeared in the middle of the night and always slept in my bed. More than once a copy of the Bible had found its way into my bedroom. After a few tense discussions regarding the Lord and premarital sex, we'd settled into a fairly peaceful coexistence, accepting each other's beliefs without adopting them.
Thai food, I said, indicating the open containers on the counter. Want some?
No thanks. She yawned. I have to leave in a few minutes.
I watched as she left the kitchen, feeling unbearably alone. I couldn't tell her about Jess leaving; even if she acted sympathetic, I knew deep down she'd be delighted. She'd be setting me up on dates with guys from her church the second his plane took off. I pulled the portable phone across the counter and stared at it, willing it to ring. If only I hadn't left it so I'd be the one to call. Finally, aware that I was being immature and melodramatic, I picked up the phone and dialed.
Hey. It's me.
I was wondering when you'd call. His words were soft and warm on the telephone, sweeping a chill down my arms. I loved his voice, light and sexy and just a little bit croaky.
Long morning. I rested my elbows on the counter.
A pause. So what are you thinking now?
I'm thinking that... I drew a design with a drop of water on the counter. I don't want you to go. But I also know that I can't ask you to stay.
He was silent, letting me express myself, not jumping to anger or defense.
I just— I stopped, lost my nerve, recovered it, and tried again. I have to know. Is this because of me?
His confusion crackled with momentary static.
Are you doing this to escape me? Us? Do you want time apart? I mean— I searched for the right way to say it, I'm not saying that's the only reason you're doing this, but is it part of the reason? Because if you need space—
He cut in, laughing. You're crazy, you know that?
An unfortunate genetic tendency passed down from my mother, I said, blushing and relieved I didn't have to look him in the eye. Now that I'd said it, it really did sound ridiculous. We were fine; our relationship was fine. He'd given no sign that anything was out of place.
Seriously, Rory. What would posses you to think that?
I—don't know. I had to giggle then, a little shakily. It just seemed so sudden, and a whole year! I reached over and filled a glass with water from the tap.
We've done the long distance thing before.
But not for this long! I took a sip of water. I'm being stupid. I should be happy for you, and instead I'm being...I'm sorry.
Don't worry about it.
Luke's voice carried across the phone lines. Jess, quit yapping and get your ass over here!
It's the lunch rush, Jess said apologetically. Anyway, I'll see you this weekend.
Try not to scare Faith out of her wits this time, would you?
Hey, it's not my fault she was getting a midnight snack at the same time I was breaking in. You should install a better lock on that door, by the way.
I laughed. I'm hanging up now.
He was delighted with himself. What? I'd lost my key!
Bye, Jess. I set the phone down with a clunk, and stared mournfully at my Thai food. Before I could take a bite, the phone rang.
Rory, could you get that? Faith called from the bathroom.
I picked up the portable.
It's Lane.
I hoped she wasn't calling to catch up. I didn't feel like talking about my personal life at that exact moment. Hey, how are you?
She giggled ecstatically. I'm pregnant!
What? Oh my god! I dropped my fork. You're kidding! Does Tom know?
Of course! I called him first, as soon as I knew. You were third, after Tom's mom and before mine.
I laughed. Lane adored her mother-in-law.
Actually, I should call my mom now that I've told you. I could sense her reluctance. Mrs. Kim would be as scary a grandmother as she was a mother. She'd make my own grandmother look positively fuzzy. Listen, I really want to talk to you more, but I'll have to call you later. She squealed girlishly, and I was treated to a sudden flashback to middle school and her first crush. Oh my god, I'm so excited! She hung up.
I sat there, letting condensation form on my glass of water, feeling torn between jealousy and happiness. Lane was my best friend; we went back to a time before I could read, before she knew who the Beatles were. Her triumphs were my triumphs, or at least I wanted them to be. But it was hard not to envy her modern fairy tail.
After years of railing against her mother and secretly dating every edgy non-Korean musician she could find, Lane had gone on one blind date from her church and fallen head over heels in love with Thomas Yang. No boy had more perfectly matched Mrs. Kim's ideal of the perfect husband since Henry Cho in the eleventh grade. Lane, despite her mother's approval, was deliriously happy. And now she was having a baby.
Suddenly, for all my seventh month advantage, I felt much younger. Here Lane was, starting a family with her husband while I still flitted to college classes like a kid. I loved my life, loved my boyfriend, but I wanted what she had. I didn't like the feeling of being unsettled, of not knowing where I was going to be a year from now. I wanted to settle, to nest.
I wanted to decorate a nursery.
Faith breezed out the door, and I stared glumly at my now cold food. Two days ago, I hadn't been positive about everything, but I'd had a good idea about where I'd be a few months: starting my new job, jetting off occasionally to exotic countries, and coming home in the evening to a cozy apartment I shared with the man I loved. That was my plan, and I was the kind of woman who liked having a plan. A detailed one.
Maybe Lane would let me help decorate her nursery.