The Wurlitzer Prize
Part Two: Landslide
Disclaimer: The characters in Gilmore Girls aren't mine.
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It honestly means a lot to me, and I appreciate all the words of encouragement.
Dedications: To emrie first of all for so many reasons, the least of which is the editing. To Kate for keeping my endlessly amused. To Chris for being Chris.
The cab ride was gruesomely long. Rory hadn't taken into account the sheer volume of traffic that accumulated on an average Saturday afternoon. Rory and the cabbie struggled to converse throughout the ride; he couldn't speak a lot of English, and when he could, his accent was thick. By the end of their disjointed conversation, Rory was pretty sure that the cabbie thought she was going to Stars Hollow on some sort of religious mission. The ride took two-and-a-half hours, and Rory was grateful when she could finally stretch her legs. The ride cost an obscene amount of money, but still in her mildly irrational state, Rory forked the money over without a second glance.
Now here she is, standing uncertainly in the town that used to be her home. Activity buzzes around her, but she is evidently invisible. Everything is precisely as she remembers it: the gazebo still stands, with Miss Patty's and Stars Hollow High. Looking down the street, she can see Doose's, and she smiles to herself as she recalls her first kiss. How new it had all seemed!
Her gaze finally lands on Luke's, and she swallows so hard that it hurts. The suitcase slips from her hand but makes no noise on the grass. Through the window, she can see Luke serving Kirk. Nothing, it appears, has changed. Self-consciously, Rory checks her hair and tugs her shirt, wishing she had worn something else. Determined, she takes a step forward—but immediately regresses again. For a moment, she stands there, steeling herself.
Picking up her suitcase, Rory starts to march across the street. She only gets two paces, though, before stopping again. Angry with herself, she releases the suitcase again. It hits the curb precariously and teeters before falling back onto the grass on its side. You can do this, she tells herself, but finds it challenging to lie. She licks her lips.
Ten minutes later, she is about ten paces farther than where she started, now on the side of the road. Passerby shift their eyes toward her for mere seconds at a time, then speedily look away. Inside the diner, Luke is brewing fresh coffee, the perfect incentive.
Breathing deeply, Rory begins the journey across the street. She is not five feet before a horn blares and a car swerves around her. "Watch where you're going!" the driver hollers, and Rory blinks. This must be an omen, she thinks to herself, discouraged. Setting her shoulders, Rory looks both ways before walking and reaches the sidewalk on the other side.
Now she is standing directly outside the diner. She looks up to the second-story windows and her heart contracts with longing and pain. "You lost?"
A friendly voice breaks into her self-pitying thoughts. "Oh—oh, no. Just…resting," Rory replies lamely.
The man nods. "All right." He nods and strides away.
Rory scoots closer to the light pole outside of Luke's and leans against it, peering through the windows. She feels like a voyeur, but she cannot stop herself. Luke grabs some plates from Caesar and takes them out into the diner. Rory's breath catches when he brings them to the table by the window. His eyes look out into the street, but he does not see her. He leaves and she lets her breath out with a woosh that hurts her lungs.
Twenty minutes quickly pass, and Rory decides it's time to go in. Firmly settling her suitcase in her hand, Rory pushes the door to Luke's open with bated breath. He does not notice the bell, engrossed in cooking. Surreptitiously, Rory sits on a barstool and puts her suitcase on the tile next to her. Her throat closes up as she sees that the same special is still on the board.
"Can I get you some—" Luke ends his question abruptly and he stares at Rory, too shocked to speak.
"Hi, Luke," she says, but it is a barely-audible whisper.
"Rory," he breathes cautiously. "I can't believe you're home." He walks around the counter and offers her a hug. Standing, Rory shyly accepts it, feeling sixteen again. It's a hard, affectionate hug, and Rory feels tears sting her eyes. The pinpricks in her nose start, a sure sign of crying.
"Hi," she repeats tearfully.
"I just—I had no idea you were comin' back. Sit down, I'll get you some coffee." Luke pours her a cup, and Rory sips it. "Your mom is gonna be through the roof about this."
"Sorry I didn't call," Rory says meekly. "I was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing."
"We're just happy you're back." Luke pauses and looks at her for a while. "You staying?"
"For good?" Rory asks in surprise.
"I mean, you got a couple weeks or what?"
"Oh. Oh, well, I guess I'll have to call in and see how much time I've got built up."
Luke nods and keeps looking at her. "Your hair's different."
"Oh." Rory waits a moment. "Bad different?" A conversation from many, many moons ago echoes in her head, and Rory narrowly holds back the acidic tears that were already threatening.
"No, it's—"
"I need coffee!"
Rory's eyes widen. That voice cannot be mistaken anywhere. She is afraid to turn around, wondering what her mother will say. Rory gulps and fidgets with her cup.
True to form, Luke says, "You never need coffee."
"Coffee is my major food group. Get over it. You've known me long enough to know that."
"I'm eternally optimistic that it will change," Luke responds dryly. His eyes flicker to Rory. "Hey, look who's here," he says awkwardly.
Lorelai gasps. "Donny Osmond?"
"No, Lorelai, really look who's here." Luke's head jerks towards Rory, and she has no choice now. She twists around on the stool.
"Hey, Mom."
Lorelai is speechless for a second. "Babe!" she cries and tosses her arms around Rory. "What are you doing here? You didn't mention anything the last time we talked."
"It was impulsive."
"That's great! Now I'll have someone cool with me on movie night," Lorelai says, shooting Luke a look.
"Lorelai, for the last time, I will not impersonate Kalgon from Space Mutiny."
"See?" Lorelai says. "No fun."
Rory nods. "None at all."
"We have to rent Space Mutiny. I tried Message in a Bottle, but it's too boring to mock."
"That's saying something." Rory finishes her cup off. "Do you mind if I head to the house? I need to drop this stuff off," Rory says, gesturing to her suitcase.
"I'll go with you!" Lorelai says. "I need it in a to-go cup," she tells Luke. He hands her two. "Thanks. See you later."
"Yup." Lorelai leans across the counter and pecks Luke on the lips. "Come on, let's go!" Lorelai springs up from her seat, and Rory grabs her suitcase and follows, aiming a smile back at Luke. She and Lorelai wrestle the luggage into the back seat of the Jeep. "Isn't this the stuff that Grandma and Grandpa got you?"
"Yeah."
"It's nice."
"It's roomy."
"You packed a lot," Lorelai notes, eyeing Rory.
"I was irrational."
"No, you're just my daughter. We pack for all situations." Lorelai hikes into the Jeep and slams the door shut. Rory follows suit. The radio is blaring classic rock, and Lorelai instantly turns it down. They drive in companionably silence for a while. "So, why?" Lorelai finally asks. Rory knows that she's been dying to ask.
"I don't know."
"Good reasoning. I can see that Harvard education really helped you."
"I use it every way I can." Rory looks out the window. She remembers when she used to think that Stars Hollow was basically the center of the universe, when she was a little girl. Now that she's seen most of the world, she kind of wishes it was.
"Did something happen?" Lorelai presses, concerned.
"No." Rory thinks. "Michael and I broke up."
"Michael. The doctor," Lorelai says.
"Yes."
"Sorry, sweets."
"I just need some time to think."
Lorelai smiles sadly at her daughter. "Well, I'm glad you came here, hon." They pull up at the house, and wrangle the suitcase into Rory's old bedroom, which is completely intact.
"Wow," Rory marvels, her eyes taking in all the old pictures she used to admire. It's amazing to her that she has really been to all of these places. At least she didn't fail herself that way.
"I can take the afternoon off," Lorelai offers.
"No, that's all right," Rory says. "I'll just…unpack and call work and…um, maybe call Jen."
"Okay." Lorelai hugs her daughter tightly and kisses her cheek. "I'm glad you're home, babe. I missed you."
"I missed you too, Mom."
Lorelai smiles at her one last time. "Well, I'll be home in a few hours. Just call me if you need anything."
"Okay." Lorelai backs out of the room and shuts the door. Rory sinks onto her childhood bed and stares blankly at the ceiling. Thoughts about nothing are swirling in her head. The familiarity of her old room comforts her a little, but moreover, makes her feel as though she's degenerated in some way.
Half an hour later, she's listening to the ring of Jen's telephone. "Hey," comes across the line, Jen's usual salutation.
"Hi."
"Rory, hi."
"You'll never guess where I am."
"Harvest?" Jen asks dryly.
"Try again."
There is a silence as Jen ponders. "Tiffany's?"
"Why on Earth would I be at Tiffany's?"
"You said I'd never guess," Jen says defensively.
"I'm home."
"In your apartment? That's really exciting," Jen says sardonically.
"No. Home home."
"Stars Hollow?" Jen's voice is rife with disbelief.
"Yup."
"Why?"
Crackling ensues as Rory thinks about the real reason. "I'm going to get over him, Jen."
"The guy?"
"Yeah."
"Did I say something too harsh?" Jen asks, her voice contrite. "I didn't mean to."
"No," Rory replies solidly. "You were right, though. He's keeping me from getting on with my life."
"Good for you," Jen says. "You need me to do anything in Boston?"
"Yeah. Go to my apartment. In the drawer to the left of this sink, you'll find something."
"That sounds ominous."
"It's not. You'll like it. Just…don't ask questions. Keep it."
"Illegal money?" Jen asks, excited.
"Not exactly. Just go look."
"I definitely will. Have fun."
"I won't, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same."
"Good. Bye, Rory."
"Bye, Jen." Rory snaps her cell shut and throws it lightly onto the desk. Her eyes drift to the window and her lips purse as she thinks about all the illicit encounters she had there. Frowning, Rory curls into a ball and gazes blankly out the glass with sad eyes. In her mind's eye, she can see that dark head approaching, contrasting with the lacy curtains as he ducks inside.
A random thought crosses Rory's mind, and she gets up off the bed to go investigate. Sure enough, in the freezer is some Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Rory slides a spoon out of the drawer and takes the ice cream to the couch to watch TV again. She's sick of thinking.
A couple of hours later, in the middle of the E! True Hollywood story on the making of Jaws, Lorelai comes barreling through the door, arms loaded. "Hey! What are you watching?" Rory knows better than to answer. "Oh, that's a good one. Damn mechanical shark." Lorelai tilts her head and watches for a moment before continuing into the kitchen. "Sookie made you a cake," Lorelai calls. "Coffee beans and fudge," she adds.
"Great," Rory says, trying to muster some enthusiasm.
"Michel was his usual unexcited self, but what can you do? Rune asked if you'd come in some day and help him dust, but of course, I said, 'No, she's here on vacation,' which prompted a very long conversation as to when he would get vacation. Now, Miss Patty said she wanted to throw you a party, but I thought I'd clear it with you first." When she gets no reply, Lorelai strides into the living room. "Hon?"
"I don't want a party," Rory says bleakly, her eyes still on the screen.
"Okay," Lorelai says, returning to the kitchen. "I'll tell Miss Patty. Babette will probably be in here in a matter of minutes, and Grandma and Grandpa will insist on seeing you, because you can't come home without a certain amount of torture."
Rory just looks at the TV.
"Well, I'm going to change," Lorelai says, looking worriedly at Rory. "I'll be back down in a minute, and we can make some popcorn and order pizza and watch Space Mutiny. How does that sound?"
"I'm not sixteen," Rory finally says.
"I know that," Lorelai replies.
"I'm not the same person, Mom. These people are expecting sweet little innocent Rory, and that's just not who I am."
"Honey, they know you've changed."
"It's more than that, Mom. These people used to be my life, but they're just—you know what, never mind."
"Okay," Lorelai says, haltingly heading up the stairs.
"And Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"This isn't my first breakup. You don't have to keep trying to cheer me up."
"You look like you need it. All breakups are tough."
"I was expecting it, okay? I'm fine."
"So that's why you're chomping down ice cream in front of the TV." Lorelai's voice is dry.
"I like ice cream," Rory says defensively.
"You're still a little bit sixteen." Lorelai clomps up the stairs, not wanting or needing a response. Rory pulls her blanket tighter around her and feels the tears pool in her eyes. Her mother is right, of course: Rory is still sixteen, deep down. She's still sensitive and skittish and unfamiliar with the ways of the world. All this time, she'd been fooling herself into thinking that she had a mature handle on life when really, she is just as naive as when she started out into the world. The thought puts her over the edge, and Rory lets the first truly despondent tears of the breakup pour down her cheeks.
When Lorelai comes downstairs, she says nothing, just puts a pillow on her lap and lets Rory cry, like old times. Lorelai cradles Rory's head and rocks her gently back and forth as the E! announcer tells them that Rank is up next. Sniffling, Rory says, "Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Do you have any more ice cream?"
Lorelai gingerly moves Rory's head. "I picked some up in Doose's," Lorelai says, going into the kitchen. A gallon of ice cream emerges with her when she returns.
"Thanks," Rory says, sitting up, brandishing her spoon.
"Sure thing," says Lorelai, draping her arm around Rory. "Whaddya say? I've got Space Mutiny, The Princess Bride, Love Story, and Breakfast at Tiffany's."
"The Princess Bride," Rory says, thankful for her mother's instincts and foresight.
"As you wish," Lorelai jokes, standing. Instantly, Rory's face slackens into a deeper frown as she recalls the other person who said those words to her. His face flashes before her in place of Wesley's, and before she can stop them, another bout of tears is upon her. "Oh, sweetie," Lorelai says sadly, plugging the video in. "Just pretend you're Buttercup."
Two hours later, Luke arrives home to find Rory and Lorelai in a bundle on the couch watching Love Story. "Ahem," he says from behind.
"Hi, honey," Lorelai says, not turning.
"I've got coffee."
"Good. Set it on the table?"
Luke crosses in front of the couch and catches a glimpse of Rory's sad, tear-stained face. His eyes flicker to Lorelai to try to ascertain what's wrong, but she just shakes her head. "Well, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."
"Okay," Lorelai says.
At eleven, Lorelai creeps upstairs into their bedroom. Rory is asleep on the couch, all cried out and entirely miserable.
"Hey," Luke says, sitting up in bed.
Lorelai crawls in next to him and settles into the crook of his arm. "I'm so glad I'm done with breakups."
"Poor kid," Luke says. "That doctor?"
"Yeah," Lorelai sighs. "He seemed okay, too."
"Well, so did Dean."
"Dean was okay," Lorelai argues.
"Dean hurt her."
"Rory hurt him," Lorelai points out, taking her usual stance in the age-old argument.
Luke just sighs. "How long can she stay?"
"She never said." Lorelai nestles even closer. "I'm so glad she's home."
Softly, Luke kisses the top of her head. "I know."
Downstairs, Rory awakens on the couch, mildly confused. She recalls, finally, that she is in Stars Hollow, on her mother's couch. Feeling pathetic, Rory stands and stretches and goes into her bedroom. Rolling over, she notices something she had failed to before. On the nightstand is a picture in a plain wooden frame. They are sitting on the porch swing, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. Her eyes are focused on him adoringly. Rory is too tired to cry, so she just rolls over with something that feels like a paperweight in her stomach.
She stares at the window, longing for something to happen. In the reflection of the glass, every boyfriend she's ever had flickers past. She can see their hurt eyes as she breaks up with them, telling them without looking at them that it's not working, that they're wonderful but she's looking for something different. Someone different.
Upstairs, she can hear Luke and Lorelai murmuring softly to one another, a piano melodic exchange. She wants that. The question is, can she ever let herself get that? Lorelai had to shed years of oblivion, had to forget Max and Chris and everyone else in order to be happy with Luke. Rory doesn't know if she can forget everything and just let herself be happy.
Everyone says that she and her mother are nearly identical, but Rory has never thought so. The reason that they work so well together is the fact that they are nearly complete opposites. Lorelai, so happy-go-lucky, is able to dedicate herself to passing whims, able to put everything out of her mind and just focus. But not Rory. Rory is always preoccupied with something. Her brain is always muddled with thoughts, working a thousand miles a minute. Some days, she is shocked that it doesn't make noise.
Outside, there is no noise. It's almost distracting to Rory, this lack of noise. She misses the noise of the city, the comforting din. All she can hear is the mellifluous midnight conversation of Luke and Lorelai. She rolls over.