Chapter Five: Maggie May
Dedications: To the usual crowd: emrie, Chris, Kate, Marissa, and HS. Thanks, guys.
Author's Note: Thank you to my reviewers. I really appreciate feedback, for better or for worse.
As promised, Rory is back in Boston the next day. It's excruciating to get out of bed and go to work, but Rory does. Her head aches from exhaustion and stress. Her closet is nearly bare and she remembers that Luke and Lorelai still have a good amount of her wardrobe. Sighing, Rory stoops down and grabs some mildly rumpled clothing from the floor and the top of the hamper. As she makes coffee, she warms the iron up.
It doesn't really matter what her clothes look like, Rory thinks dismally over her French roast. She'll still be penned up in the same tiny cubicle, writing about the same unsubstantial stuff whether or not she wears snazzy clothes.
The defiant sunniness of the day and her bitter contemplations have put Rory in a foul mood. She stomps into the office and storms past her usual sources of morning pleasantries. Today she is in no mood to exchange "how are you"s with the water cooler crowd.
Jen ducks into her cubicle fifteen minutes after Rory has arrived. "Hey, you."
Grumpy, Rory just nods and keeps pounding on her keyboard.
"So someone's in a happy mood today."
"I woke up and realized I had no clothes." Rory swivels in her seat to face Jen.
"When that happens to me, I go shopping."
"No, literally, no clothes. I left them all at my mom's house."
"Oh." Jen sidles onto the edge of Rory's desk. "So the mood has nothing to do with the delve-through-your-past bit?"
Rory glowers at her and returns to the computer.
"You doing anything tonight?"
"With my boyfriend?" Rory asks sarcastically.
"I meant, any intense wallowing?"
"No wallowing."
"So you're open to come over?"
"What about Scott?"
"He'll just have to find something to occupy his time elsewhere." Rory almost grins; even though she's neurotic about her boyfriends, Jen is the most loyal friend in the world.
"Thanks, Jen."
"Meet you by the front doors after work," Jen says and slips stealthily back into her cubicle. In a split second, she is replaced by Rory's boss.
"Miss Gilmore."
"Mr. Fraser."
He gestures to the computer. "Catching up?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"We didn't expect you back so soon."
"My vacation got…cut short."
"Great. Copy on my desk, no later than three."
"Sure."
Rory makes a face at his retreating back and stares blankly at her monitor. How did she get stuck with relationship help again? For God's sake, she's a Harvard-educated writer, writing Dear Abby mumbo-jumbo. It's ludicrous.
The day is finally over. Rory has long since handed her copy to her boss and has more or less stared into space, sadly daydreaming. At five, she gathers all her things together, ready to leave. She bypasses the water-cooler crowd again, bent on getting out of there. In truth, she's not sure if she wants to be with Jen tonight; what she really wants is time to sit by herself in the dark, listening to gloomy emo. But Jen's trying to make her feel better and Rory hopes that perhaps she can.
The two ride the subway to Jen's apartment in silence. For once, Jen knows that it's not the time to talk. Rory collapses on Jen's couch as she brings out coffee and day-old doughnuts.
"You wanna talk?" she asks, her mouth full of doughnut.
"No," Rory says flatly, staring at her pastry.
"Don't tell me you're starting an eating disorder too," Jen teases.
Rory makes an attempt to smile and stuffs the doughnut in her mouth as one might put a pillow in a pillowcase. Mechanically, she drinks her coffee and takes another bite. Jen looks at her sympathetically and inserts a tape into the VCR. "I have only one thing to say…just be glad you're not the drummer."
Instantly, Rory's face breaks into an overpowering smile. "Spinal Tap!"
"I knew it!" Jen cries, pleased about making her friend smile.
They settle on the couch together, sharing Jen's hallowed wool blanket, shoulder to shoulder in the comical radiation of the TV screen.
*
It's five A.M. and Rory's telephone is ringing. Not even Jen would call at such an ungodly hour; Rory figures it must be Lorelai and weighs letting it just ring. After the Spinal Tap/Monty Python party with Jen last night, Rory is beat, and she has to get up in an hour to get to work anyway. The ringing stops and Rory buries her face in her pillow with satisfaction. Five seconds later, the shrill dissonance cracks the air again and Rory knows her mother isn't giving up.
"It's five A.M.," Rory answers grumpily.
"I'm getting married!"
Rory squints. It's a surreal moment. It's five A.M., her apartment is completely still, with just the bravest of dust particles flickering through the air, and her mother is screaming that she's getting married.
"Well?" Lorelai demands, her voice ebullient.
"Wow," Rory says.
"That's it?"
"Mom, it's five. Give me a second." Rory takes a deep breath. The idea of her mother marrying Luke finally makes sense to her. "Mom, that's great!"
"You're coming, right?"
"Would I miss this?"
"Good, 'cause it's Saturday."
"What? Are you nuts? You can't plan a wedding in four days."
"It's going to be small. I'll wear jeans."
"Mom, you are not wearing jeans to your wedding."
"Luke's wearing flannel!"
"Mom, come on, think rationally. You cannot plan an entire wedding in four days."
"Oh, Rory, it's not going to be a big thing. I'll wear a dress, Luke'll wear a suit, Sookie will cook, the town will come…we'll have it at the inn…"
"When do you want me there?"
"Friday night's fine."
"I can't believe it's finally happening." Rory smiles fondly at the memories she has of her mother and Luke, duking it out at the diner so long ago over caffeine intake.
"I know, babe. I know." Lorelai's voice has changed; it's not longer the giddy, irrational tone, but rather a contemplative, awe-stricken one that makes Rory's smile fade to a mere whisper.
"I'm happy, Mom."
"Thanks, kid."
"I'll see you Friday, okay?"
"Okay."
"Call me if you need me to bring anything."
"A huge gift…maybe a yacht."
"Sure. I'll stick it in my duffel."
"Bye."
"Bye."
Yawning, Rory hangs up the phone and stands in her bare feet, pondering. Should she go back to bed or just bite the bullet and watch the morning news? She decides on the latter and brews coffee as the weathercaster makes his predictions. The thought of being in Stars Hollow again makes Rory weary; another round of small talk with the townspeople might destroy her. She's beginning to see why Jess hated the town so much after coming from New York.
Jess. Can't she think about something else—anything else—for a grand total of ten minutes? Just once? His voice, his face, his scent are all unwelcome invaders in her fragile Gilmore psyche. Every time she thinks of him, all she hears are his far-from-kind words, their breakup, and oddly, she envisions the small chunk of hair that refused to stay gelled and lay limply on the side of his forehead.
Things always turn out differently than intended. Rory remembers being in high school, when she was going to be a foreign correspondent. Look at her now: she writes the "Annie's Mailbox" section of the Boston Globe. She was going to have a steady boyfriend, someone to live with and play Speed with. In reality, she lives in the tiniest apartment known to man with only the street noises and old Mr. Krustz next door to keep her company. She was going to be her mother's best friend forever. Now they talk once a week, except in special circumstances. She was going to be with Jess. Obviously that didn't happen. In many ways, Rory is disappointed in herself, disappointed in her life.
For almost another hour, Rory zones out in front of the TV, watching vacantly as the talking heads blather on about Boston's latest news: a murder, naturally; highway construction; a public library renovation; new school policies. Rory is almost envious of the talking heads; they have a more respectable job than she does. If only she could be sixteen again, idealistic and wholeheartedly believing that she could do anything.
*
Friday rolls around, and Rory boards the bus to Stars Hollow. She winces at the thought of taking a cab; it set her back quite and bit, and she regrets her rash actions. Note to self: never embark on journey less than twenty-four hours after breaking up. The bus ride is uneventful, and Rory slackens into an insensate state. After work, all the hours of hacking and doing jobs designed for copyboys, Rory is too tired to even read in the dim saffron light of the bus.
It's a crisp fall night in Stars Hollow, so dry it makes her eyes water. The bus pulls away, leaving behind a lingering trail of exhaust and Rory. Neither she, Luke nor Lorelai thought to arrange a ride for Rory from the bus stop to the house, so Rory shoulders her duffel bags and heads home. It's a light load; half her wardrobe is still at Lorelai's.
The town is dead, of course, at seven-thirty on a Friday night. There's a glimmer of light from Miss Patty's, and Doose's is still open, but no one is wandering the streets or driving around. Under the wooden footbridge, the water is eerily still, with not even a ripple. Rory quells the urge to toss a rock in there to disturb the irritating placidity.
When she mounts the steps to her front door, there is hardly a welcome crew. In fact, there is no one. Confused and mildly disappointed, Rory knocks on the door twice to no answer. Finally, she just steps inside and stands awkwardly in the foyer for a minute, feeling out of place. In the living room, Rory finds utter calamity. There are flowers and tulle all over the place, strewn with magazines, the phone, the television remote, and a few books.
"Mom?" Rory calls tentatively. There's no answer, so Rory continues into the kitchen, where her mother and Luke and frantically kissing. "Sorry!" Rory cries, and flees to her bedroom. Through the door, she hears scuffling and some metallic clinks.
"Rory?" Lorelai asks through the wood.
"Come in."
"Hey, babe." Lorelai smiles sheepishly. "We didn't hear you."
"Yeah, I knocked and called, but…" Rory gestures and Lorelai nods.
"Well, when the house is rocking…"
"Right." They smile at each other. "So the wedding's in the living room, then, huh?"
"I think it might be. I'm too lazy to get all that stuff over to the inn."
"Why didn't you just have it delivered there?"
"Kirk got confused."
"Ah."
"Yeah. I think Luke and I'll make another trip tonight and dump it there."
"And leave me to decorate?"
"That was my evil scheme, actually."
"I see."
"You and Babette will have plenty of time tomorrow. The wedding's not till three and there's not much to do."
"You nervous?" Rory asks, recalling the cold feet with Max.
With a deep breath, Lorelai smiles. "I'm not."
"Really?"
"It's just…Luke's the one. I don't think I have to be nervous. I know that he's always gonna be there for me. And it's kind of just a formality at this point."
"That's true." Rory nods sadly. She wonders if she'll ever find that sweet security instead of the bitter evanescence of her past relationships. "I'm really happy, Mom."
"So am I." Lorelai clears her throat, looking like she wants to say something more. Instead, she pats Rory's knee and says, "Well, Luke and I are going to run to the inn."
"Okay."
"There's some stuff in the fridge if you're hungry."
"Thanks."
Lorelai smiles and backs out. "It's nice having you home again."
Once Lorelai and Luke leave, the place is completely calm, a sharp polarity from Lorelai's usual clamoring household. Rory wanders aimlessly throughout the house, touching a few pictures, mindlessly picking things off the floor that were left in the wake of the wedding decorations. At this point, she should leave the house and go for a walk, but Rory doesn't want to be in the bitter cold again. It feels too alive.
They're gone for almost an hour, doing God knows what. Rory knows that the trip to the inn takes a maximum of ten minutes, giving them forty to do some unmentionable thing in one of the vacant rooms. The thought crinkles Rory's nose, and she quickly diverts her thoughts.
Of course, the only other place her thoughts can go is to Jess. Another painful scene from the past shakes her, and Rory sits on the couch, staring vacuously into space.
Rory comes home, her feet killing her from the steep heels. She kicks them off the second she's in the door and breathes a sigh of relief. The flat-footed feel is alien to her; Rory flexes her feet a few times to get some normal sensation back into them.
It takes her a second to notice Jess. When she does, her heart jumps into her throat, and it takes everything she has to keep from screaming. She wasn't expecting him to be sitting there at the table, in the dark, only lighted by the dim bathroom nightlight.
"Jess," she whispers, her voice strangled.
He says nothing, just keeps staring at her. Irrationally, she starts to feel a little afraid.
"Jess?" she asks timidly, stepping softly toward him. With the perturbation still in her feet, the world seems to be tipping unsteadily away from her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're sitting in the dark in the middle of the night, Jess—something's wrong."
"Nope."
His cavalier attitude incenses Rory, but she keeps still. "You've been so up and down lately. Something's up." Jess' hand reaches out for her, drawing her in. He pulls her down to kiss her, but Rory forces his grip off. Jess stands, fury in his stance.
"Jesus!"
"Not this again!" Rory hollers back, certain that the entire apartment building is waking up and calling the management.
"I knew it."
"Knew what?"
"All these parties," Jess spits out, disgusted.
"Jess, just say it already."
"You want me to?"
Exhausted, Rory nods.
"You're not even in this relationship anymore."
"Me?" Rory cries, disbelieving. "Talk about projecting."
"Oh yeah?"
"Which one of us can't even be bothered to—" Rory gestures, recalling the night not so long ago, sitting on Jess' lap in her underwear.
"What the hell to you think I'm trying to do now?"
"Not now, Jess! You're angry at some mysterious thing again, I'm tired, it's one in the morning—"
"Look, whatever."
"No, not whatever. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of you claming up every time there's something wrong."
"I got fired!" Jess bellows. His breathing is heavy and erratic, his eyes focused intensely on her.
"Oh." Rory looks at his face. "Well, you'll find another job."
"Easy for you to say."
"Maybe you could even go to college now."
"Right," Jess says dryly.
"What?"
"And you wonder why I don't tell you things."
"Because I try to make you feel better? No, you're right, I'd want to have my boyfriend help me wallow in my misery too. My mistake," Rory snips, her voice harsh.
"I'm leaving."
"Good idea," Rory mutters as Jess grabs his coat and slams the door. She is left to stand by the window and listen to its reverberating rattle after Jess' sound slam.
The beginning of the end. Jess didn't come back much after that, and finally not at all. He broke Rory's heart slowly, taking one splinter at a time and furrowing it away in a secret hiding place. There's only a few slivers left, and Rory guards them carefully.
The front door bangs shut, and Rory hears Lorelai whispering, "Be quiet!" to Luke as they attempt to sneak in.
"Hey, Mom," Rory says casually as Lorelai's about to pull Luke upstairs.
"Oh, heh, hi," Lorelai stutters. "Caught me off guard there."
"So I guess you guys got most of the decorating done then, too," Rory says, smiling knowingly.
"Err—" Lorelai looks at Luke, who just stares back. "Yeah, yeah," Lorelai agrees, "the minor stuff."
"The stuff that isn't really perceptible to the human eye?"
"Yeah, behind-the-scenes stuff. Right, Luke?"
"Yep. Behind-the-scenes."
"Ah," Rory says, nodding. "Well, I guess I should let you get some rest. You must have worked hard."
"Oh, did we ever," Lorelai leers, leaning close to Luke, who looks away.
"Good night, Mom."
"Night, Rory."
Lorelai leads Luke upstairs, exchanging funny faces with him all the way. What's left of Rory's heart aches with envy. She sternly reminds herself that this is her mother and trudges into her room. Her frumpy sleep-clothes are ready and she slides into them gratefully. Slipping into the clean sheets, Rory dials Jen on her cell phone. Jen picks up on the fifth ring. "What?" she commands, and Rory can see the hand on her hip.
"Hey, Jen."
"Rory, hi."
"Is this a…bad time?"
"Scott's here."
"Oh. Um, isn't he usually?"
"No, Rory, he's here."
"Oh. Oh! Sorry, Jen."
"You're nothing if not an effective mood-killer."
"I'll buy you coffee when we get back."
"Add a scone and you've got a bargain."
"Sure."
"Is something wrong?" Jen asks, not entirely able to abandon her best-friendliness.
"No," Rory says, trying to restrain the melancholy in her voice.
"Oh, okay. Well…"
"Sorry. Bye. Have…fun."
"Bye."
So that's that. Rory's friends and relatives are all in love and apparently consummating it. She is alone is her teenage bedroom with only the memories of her naïve idealism to keep her company.
*
The next morning is neither sunny nor cloudy; it's a peculiar in-between day with intermittent sun breaks and cloud shadows. Rory's eyes are reluctant to open, but she nevertheless swings out of bed and starts getting dressed in her bridesmaid's get-up. Since it is Lorelai "In-Style" Gilmore's wedding, the dress is actually lovely. As she struggles to shove the zipper up her back, Rory stares in the mirror at herself, looking at a paradox. With the stylishly shorter hair and more sophisticated make-up, she looks older but feels like a teenager.
Mixed feelings churning inside her stomach, Rory exits her room into the empty kitchen. "Mom?" she calls.
Luke appears from around the corner. "She's in the bedroom. She refuses to come out until you come up there and 'personally escort' her to the car."
"Then I better get up there."
"That would be good."
Rory shifts past Luke in the archway and mounts the stairs. Inside her mother's bedroom, there's an uncanny quietus. "Mom?" Rory asks, rapping lightly.
"Rory? Come in."
Slowly, Rory rotates the doorknob, trying to reduce the noise. For some reason, she wants to preserve the silence. "Hey," she whispers.
"Hey, hon." Lorelai pats the bed and Rory sits next to her. She can feel her mother stir next to her, a reaction to the gravity of the bedsprings.
"You almost ready?"
"Yeah, yeah. I've got my dress right over there," Lorelai says, indicating the closet.
"Your dress is in the closet?" Rory asks, her forehead creased in worry.
"Yep."
"Mom, it's gonna take us a year to find it."
"Hey, hey, I'm a better planner than that."
"Really?" Rory marvels skeptically.
"I kept it in the bag-thingie. There aren't many other things in black bags in that closet, expect for a few bodies, but those are on the floor."
"Good to know," Rory says, walking over to the closet and gathering the dress over her arm, careful to bend it in the right place. "Should we go?"
"Just a minute," Lorelai requests, again patting the mattress. Rory, dress in tow, resumes her position next to Lorelai.
"Is something wrong?"
"No." Lorelai looks at her daughter sadly. "Rory, things didn't turn out the way they should have." There's a pause while Lorelai collects her thoughts, and Rory wonders if she's supposed to say anything. "If things had gone the way they were 'supposed' to twenty-six years ago, I wouldn't be marrying Luke today."
"Mom—"
"I've just gotta say this, Rory. I feel bad that you never had a dad around growing up. It's not all Chris' fault, either, and I think you know that." Lorelai takes a deep breath and looks more directly at Rory. "We've been growing apart these past few years, and that's normal. I expected that. I just don't want you to think that Luke's replacing you."
"I know, Mom."
"I never saw myself raising a kid all alone at sixteen, but somehow I ended up here and you ended up at Harvard. I didn't do what my parents wanted me to do, but I ended up really, really happy. I want the same thing for you."
"Mom—"
"This isn't a go-out-and-get-married lecture. It's more of a…don't-get-hitched-to-the-wrong-person-out-of-desperation lecture. I almost married your dad a few times, but it never would have worked out. I'll always love him, Rory, but sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, it's just not meant to be."
"I know."
"Okay. Well…that's all I have. I guess I can go get married now."
"Okay then," Rory teases lightly. She follows Lorelai out of the room, her face crumpled in thought. Maybe she's doing the right thing, dating around, waiting for the perfect person. Maybe Jess is her Christopher. Maybe they're just not meant to be; maybe the stars are not aligned; maybe it's just not their destiny.
*
Once Rory gets to the inn, she realizes how moronic it was to change into her wedding attire. She still has to help decorate. Of course, Lorelai wouldn't have thought to get that done in advance. In her heels, Rory tediously climbs ladders and places bouquets of flowers anywhere there's a surface. In the kitchen, she can hear Sookie banging away, yelling at employees and mixing together the smells and sounds that eventually manifest themselves as delicious food.
Rory starts to panic after a while. In an hour, guests will be arriving, and she is nowhere near finished. Babette and Miss Patty are little help and Kirk is more of a hindrance than anything. Finally, Rory all but shoves them out of the room and tosses her shoes in a corner. Barefoot and immeasurably more comfortable, Rory works strenuously to put every little detail into place.
She's behind a floral arrangement when it happens. It's taken her five minutes to find a surface large enough to put the gigantic spray on, and now she's deciding how to position it. Through the flowers, she catches a glimpse of a dark head that looks hauntingly familiar. An instinct propels Rory to duck slightly so she can't be seen. The man walks to the front desk and, attitude and confidence in every motion, asks Michel a question. A key is exchanged. As if knowing she is there, he looks directly at the flowers; Rory holds her breath.
Jess.
When he goes upstairs, Rory creeps out from behind the bouquet. Her stomach is uneasy and her throat is dry. It's clear that he's spending the night, which implies that he intends to stay for the wedding and the reception. There's a very distinct chance that she'll come into close contact with him. Can she handle it?
"Rory!"
"Huh?" Rory asks dumbly, turning toward fizzing sound. "Mom."
"I think it's time to put the big kahuna on."
"Okay." Rory retrieves her shoes and follows her mother into her office, which is scattered with dress, veil, shoes and makeup galore. Lorelai extracts the dress from the bag, and Rory smiles girlishly. "It's gorgeous."
"Isn't it?" Lorelai giggles conspiratorially.
"Makeup first or dress first?"
"Makeup."
"Okay." Rory and her mother situate themselves by the mirror, sitting on the edge of the desk, and Rory begins to slowly put some pressed powder on her mother's face. In steps, she puts on eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, rouge, the whole bit.
"This is strange."
"Yeah," Rory agrees shyly.
"I remember when I used to do your makeup."
"I guess you're regressing," Rory teases.
"Maybe so. But I'll probably get lots of Jell-O."
"Probably so." Rory gestures for her mother to stand and get undressed and she prepares the dress. Lorelai quickly strips while Rory looks away.
"Okay, beam me up, Scotty," Lorelai says, standing in a slip. She and Rory wrestle the dress on, trying to avoid smearing makeup all over. "Well?" Lorelai asks, twirling.
"It's perfect," Rory says honestly. "You look perfect."
Lorelai hugs Rory tightly. "What time is it?"
"It's a quarter of."
"Oh, super. Now I get to sit and wait for fifteen minutes. I hate being early."
"It's much better than being late."
"No! Now I can't distract myself by running around frantically. I have to wait calmly."
"Just think about things to torture Luke with on your honeymoon."
"Hmm. Not a bad thought."
Rory smiles and starts backing out of the room. "I'm going to go make sure all the decorations are in the right places."
"Okay." Lorelai breathes deeply. "Wish me luck."
"You'll be fine."
"Yeah."
"It's Luke, it's Stars Hollow…"
"Okay. I can do this."
Rory nods and latches the door after herself. In and out, in and out she breathes, then starts walking toward where the guests are congregating. Small talk isn't appetizing right now, so Rory gears up to turn the corner as fast as possible and zoom around, into the kitchen. The turning part works, but the bumping into someone is unexpected.
"Oof!" Rory cries in astonishment. She looks up. It's final; this day can get no more unsettling. "Jess, hi."
"Hello."
"I was just—uh—"
"Escaping."
"No. I was seeing…if Sookie is okay. She's, um, she's pregnant you know, so I didn't know if she was getting tired or needed help with her dress or anything, so I thought I'd kind of go and help." Rory nods stupidly.
"Carry on," Jess says, brushing by her. Rory stays in the same position for a minute, shutting her eyes and inhaling his scent. Even after quite a while, she recalls his scent perfectly. She remembers hearing that it's one of the stimulants in human sexuality.
In the kitchen, Sookie is bossing people around to the best of her ability. Her stomach has grown so that it's difficult for her to fit into passageways and make sure that everything in the pot is perfect. So she's resorted to instructing her assistant chefs.
"Hey Sookie," Rory says casually. "Hey there, Carrie," Rory greets Sookie's daughter.
"Hi, Rory," mother and daughter chorus in unison.
"How's the food?"
"I got pregnant at a really bad time," Sookie moans. "I mean, there's a science to—Sancho, no! Put the garlic in first. Primero!"
"Sounds hectic," Rory observes, her eyebrows raised.
"Plus I can't be a bridesmaid…stupid ankles."
"Trust me, Mom and I would rather have you as front-row photographer. Less chance of you falling."
"I suppose. I always wanted to be Lorelai's bridesmaid though."
"I've got it covered."
"Aw, I know you do, sweetie."
"You ready, Carrie?" Rory asks Sookie's daughter.
"Yeah. Mom helped me put my dress on."
"Good." Rory looks at the chaos of the kitchen. Sookie is yelling at Sancho again and Rory can see a disaster forming in Paul's area. "You know where to go, right?"
"Yeah," Carrie answers.
"Okay. Tell your mom that I had to go greet people."
"Okay."
Rory backs out of the kitchen, trying not to attract attention to herself. In the lobby, the guests are mingling among Rory's carefully planned decorations. She doesn't see Jess in the mix, so she dives in head first, smiling like a ventriloquist's dummy. Everyone tells her how nice it is to see her again so soon, what a nice wedding this is, how they've waited for this forever, on and on. While Rory knows that their intentions are nothing but good, her nerves are frazzled from decorating and small talk. Right now, all she wants is to be back in Boston, sipping coffee and reading a book.
The pastor signals Rory, and Rory nods, graciously excusing herself from the hubbub. "Mom?" she asks softly, knocking on the door. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," Lorelai says through the door.
"Then come on."
Lorelai emerges from the office, and for a moment as she looks behind her to make sure that her dress will clear the door, Rory gets a vision of her mother as a child. They link arms as they walk to down a narrow corridor to the back door. "Ready to give me away?" Lorelai asks, smiling, her voice asking more.
"Prepared as a Boy Scout," Rory replies, her words hinting at something affectionate beneath the comical banter.
Being Lorelai, no normal music plays. Instead of the traditional wedding march, Lorelai has selected "Goin' to the Chapel."
"You should have been the female Al Bundy," Rory whispers to her mother.
"I thought about it," Lorelai murmurs back as they approach the pathway.
At this moment, Rory feels as though a solemn bell should be ringing in the background. The wedding is lighthearted and sweet, the colors bright, the guests beaming, but Rory feels rolling thunder in her stomach. Staring down the aisle like this, Rory almost feels as though she's the one who's getting married. It makes her feel nauseous and insecure, like the ground could collapse under her feet. Ironically, Lorelai looks like she's going to the market.
Amidst tears and caring exclamations, Rory brings Lorelai down the aisle. Carrie treads the way for them, throwing her flowers proudly. At the altar, Luke is looking content but fidgety. Lorelai smiles at him, and Luke smiles back.
Before she reaches the pinnacle of the march, Rory turns Lorelai to her and gently lifts her veil. The women smile at each other and Rory kisses her mother's cheek with a bittersweet finality. "I love you," she breathes.
*
"Well, I must say, Rory, you did an excellent job of giving your mother away," Richard says, smiling.
"Thanks, Grandpa. Did you two like the ceremony?" she asks her grandparents, ever the doting, precocious grandchild.
"It was…lovely," Emily says, her response stilted.
"Hey Mom, Dad," Lorelai greets them, coming up with Luke.
"Hello Lorelai. Luke," Emily adds, her eyebrow raised slyly. Rory could almost hear the "I told you so" coming from her grandmother.
"Luke!" Richard shakes his hand jovially.
"Mr. Gilmore."
"Call me Richard. We're related now."
"We should be going," Emily announces, looking toward the townspeople gossiping and dancing.
"Thank you for coming," Lorelai says sincerely.
"We wouldn't miss this," Richard assures her. He reaches into his pocket and extends an envelope.
"No, Dad, I can't," Lorelai protests.
"No, it is our gift to you. We insist that you take it." Richard thrusts the envelope farther out and Lorelai looks to Luke. He says nothing, and Lorelai accepts it.
"Thank you."
"Ah, it's nothing." Richard kisses Lorelai's cheek. "Emily?"
"Yes. Congratulations," she says to Lorelai and Luke. "Come have dinner soon," she says to Rory, kissing her on the cheek. She and Richard pick their way to the car through the grass while Rory, Lorelai and Luke look on.
"I wonder what I'll have to do for this money," Lorelai mutters.
"Mom, I'm pretty sure that was a gift."
"Yeah, and they can't even give me a tax-free one." Lorelai sloppily opens the envelope and withdraws a thin slip of paper.
"Wow," Luke says, looking over Lorelai's shoulder.
"Wow," Lorelai echoes.
"What?" Rory asks, swinging around to see. "Wow."
"It's halfway tax-free," Lorelai marvels.
"Martha's Vineyard?" Luke asks skeptically.
"Hey, that's nice," Rory says.
"Yeah, use of the formerly pink-and-green house for half a year where most people spend their free time taking Valium overdoses," Lorelai says. "But the money…I could buy a supply of Krispy Kremes."
Rory shakes her head. "When does your plane leave?"
"Soon," Lorelai says, sobering. "You can stay in the house as long as you want."
"I know," Rory says. "Thanks. I'll probably leave tonight or tomorrow morning."
"Okay, hon."
Kirk's car pulls up in the front of the inn. "Mom?" Rory asks.
"Kirk was miffed that he didn't get to be photographer, so we said he could be the chauffeur."
"That was generous of you," Rory says sarcastically. "You're going to sit in the backseat and make him nervous, aren't you?"
A wicked grin spreads on Lorelai's face. Luke shakes his head. "I'm just seeing if I make it alive."
"Good luck," Rory says, nodding. The three start to make their way toward the herd of Stars Hollow denizens.
"I hope they aren't throwing rice," Lorelai says suddenly.
"Why?" Luke asks.
"It'll go down the front of my dress, and what fun is it teasing Kirk with rice down my dress?"
"Just don't try to catch the rice," Luke advises.
"No guarantees."
"Bye," Rory says simply, hugging them both. "Have fun in New Orleans."
"I'm sure," Luke says gloomily.
"Oh, Grumpy, you'll have fun," Lorelai reprimands. "Bye, babe. Don't burn the house down."
"I'll do my utmost."
Lorelai and Luke half-walk-half-jog through the rain of rice that hails down. Bootsy, evidently misunderstanding the word "toss," hurls rice at the couple.
"Ow!" Lorelai cries. "Bootsy! That was my eye!"
Luke presses on her back and they sprint through the remaining feet and dive into the car. Rory waves from the back of the crowd, although they probably can't see her. On the fringe, where he always is, she sees Jess, his hands behind his back, staring after the car. As soon as it rounds the bend, he ambles inside while the others wave to nothing.
*
It's late. Rory has dismantled most of the decorations in the dim, still inn. She leaves the flowers up for the guests and trudges into the kitchen in hopes of Sookie having left some delicious delicacy. There are leftover candies and cookies all over the counters and Rory notices a plastic baggie with her name on it, filled with goodies. She smiles at Sookie's thoughtfulness and takes the bag with her.
"Oh!" she exclaims. She could have sworn the door moved and hit her in the face.
"Sorry," says the person on the other side.
Rory rubs her cheek and backs up for the other person to enter. Jess slips between the two doors in his dress clothes minus the jacket. "'S okay," Rory mumbles like a child. Normally she would have told him about how she thought the door was moving on its own, but she doubts it would be a flattering anecdote.
"I just…"
"Thought you'd raid the place?" Rory asks, holding up her bag.
"Something like that," Jess agrees, sliding onto a stool.
"There's probably a ton of cake left."
"It was big."
"Just the way my mother wanted it." There is a long silence where each tries to gauge the other's attitude. "I'm surprised you came," Rory says at last.
"Yeah." She wants to ask why, but that question gets her in trouble a lot. "Surprised it wasn't your wedding."
"What?" Rory asks, utterly confused. "Why?"
"You're the marrying type," Jess says casually, chewing a cookie.
"Oh," Rory says, nodding her head very slowly, recalling the feeling she'd had standing by Lorelai. "And you would have come?"
"Probably not."
"Of course. So…why did you come to Luke's?"
Jess shrugs. "There was no one else from his family here. I mean, my mom's definitely not coming, so…"
"Oh." Rory clears her throat. She wants to continue her civil conversation with Jess, but she knows that standing uncomfortably near the door probably isn't the most flattering image. Unsure of what to do, Rory starts leaving.
"Rory."
"What?"
"I'm…sorry. About New York."
Rory absorbs the information and turns around to face him. "Me too."
"Okay."
Unable to stop herself, Rory climbs onto a stool across from him. "Jess?"
"Yeah?"
"Why didn't we work out?"
"That's a pretty loaded question." Jess gives her no answer, just chews.
"I know it is."
"I don't know, Rory."
"I don't either."
Across the counter, Jess sighs. "Let's just blame it on timing, all right?"
"Okay, sure." Rory reaches in her bag and grabs a cookie. "So what are you doing?"
"Eating."
"For a living?" Rory teases, catching some crumbs with her cupped hand.
"Sumo wrestling."
"Jess."
"I own a tiny, nondescript, almost unprofitable bookstore."
"Really?" Rory asks, lighting up. "That's so…you."
"Yeah," Jess says unenthusiastically.
"Jess, come on, that's great."
"I guess." Jess looks at her as she eats. "You?"
"I write."
"Figures."
"The best part is…" Rory laughs, "…the best part is that I write a love advice column."
"Guess you shoulda gone to Yale."
Rory smiles. In the tangerine glow from the small nightlight in the corner, Jess' sharp features are softened and his eyes made more mysterious. Sometimes, Rory can feel impulsive moments before they even reach her brain. They course through her body as a tingly jolt, a split second of electric blood. The current connects with her brain, and Rory crawls across the table, folds the back of Jess' head in her hand, and presses her lips to his.
Jess nearly falls off of his stool in surprise and grasps Rory's shoulders to steady himself. Rory lets herself concentrate on nothing but the feel of his lips and the touch of his hands—so long gone—and refuses to think about the consequences. There's a peculiar rush of adrenaline accompanying the kiss, knowing that at any moment, someone could walk in here and catch them among the cookies and cake.
When the kiss breaks, Rory and Jess both lean back. "Rory…" Jess says, but nothing more comes out. Finally he says, "This isn't good for the health code."
"Then get me off the counter," Rory demands.
Jess stands up and gestures for Rory. She scoots off the counter and lets him arrange her in his arms. He carries her upstairs, like a bride, to his bed.