Rory hung up the phone and turned back to the movie, reaching out for more popcorn.
"Who was that?" Lorelai didn't look up.
"No one."
"You say no one, I'm assuming you've just arranged to meet someone you talked to online. He's fifty, fat, balding, and drools while watching the Olsen twins. He struck your fancy because of his funky screen-name: HOTSEXXX4U. It worked so strongly on your feminine urges you decided to elope to Vegas, first stop the Motel 6 on the I98. Spill, or I'm getting rid of the internet."
"It was Tristan."
"Did he ask you to go with him?"
"Yes."
"So what was the 'I'll see you tomorrow at seven' about? Did they bump the dance up and no one told me?"
"No. It was nothing."
"Okay." They watched the movie in silence for a few minutes. "You know if you're meeting him in Stars Hollow I'll know exactly what you're doing thirty seconds after he gets here. If I'll disapprove tell me now, and maybe you'll get time off for turning state's evidence."
"There's no reason you'd disapprove."
"Which doesn't mean I won't."
"I'm taking dancing lessons with him."
"Oh, man. I'm sorry. How did Mom rope you into that one? You shouldn't let her make you do things you don't want to. That's my place. Though I suppose Patty is a fitting punishment for all those months of misery he inflicted on you."
Rory didn't correct her mother's assumption, and conversation ceased while they watched the monkeys fly.
"I'll talk to Mom about it, try and set some boundaries for this whole thing. It's getting out of hand. Before you know it, she'll hire a chaperone and insist you have cards sent in."
"I thought that too. Not about the cards, about Miss Patty. That's why I invited him."
That got her mother's attention. "You invited Tristan? To take dance lessons with you? Where you'll be dancing in each others arms for hours on end? Days on end with your two, left, banana feet. What does this boy look like, and why haven't you told me about it before now?"
"Mom, that is not why - I just don't want to make a fool of myself."
"By telling Tristan that you think he's hot? That would be totally stupid, since you hate him so much. That's why you had to come up with an excuse to touch him. Not a bad one, if he can't dance. Awful, horrible, terrible if he can. Can he dance?"
"No, but-"
"Well, that's okay." Lorelai seemed doubtful. "Touching hot boys is fun, especially when Miss Patty is in charge of hand placement. But remember the hair."
"The hair?"
"Yeah, you remember. Lane and that boy last year? Just because a boy is scrumpalicious doesn't mean he's not a total jerk. You haven't done this yet, have you? Been hot for a boy you'd cheerfully defenestrate on a good day. You'll get over it fast. Soon enough the craving will go away, and the realisation of what an evil, smarmy, slimy, arrogant, insufferable person Tristan is will just seep right back in." She glanced sideways at Rory. "Now that I think about it, I don't think that this touching is a good thing, combined with the hating."
"Mom. God. Listen to me, because I mean this, and I'm only saying it once. I do not think Tristan is hot. I am not going to let Miss Patty put my hands on his butt. I have no desire to touch Tristan. I invited Tristan here because he's a worse dancer than I am, and I don't want to have to listen to Grandma's snipes across the dinner table. I know what Tristan's like, no seeping is necessary. Got it? Good."
Lorelai perked up, but said mournfully, "That's so sad Rory. You don't think anyone is hot. I can understand Tristan's personality blinding you to his biceps, but that Italian waiter last week-"
Rory gave it up as a lost cause, and took the phone into her room.
*******************************************************************
"So why did you invite him then, if it's not because he's hot?"
Rory glared at the telephone. "Because I felt sorry for him, for the fourth time."
"Because he was sad," Lane said thoughtfully.
"Yes. I felt sorry for him because he was sad. That's it."
"Hmm. Well I suppose it's a step up from kissing him because he's sad."
"Exactly. My heart is hardening; my kindly impulses toward my enemies are vanishing."
"An enemy. It didn't sound like that when you were talking about New Year's. I'm not sure it's ever sounded like that, actually."
"New Year's Eve was, an anomaly. Half an anomaly, because he was still a jerk that night."
"A jerk."
"Stop repeating my words!"
Lane ignored her. "You've done a lot to stop him feeling sad. Why do you do that, if he's such a jerk?"
Rory spluttered in indignation. "You're getting as bad as Lorelai. Totally ignore Paris why don't you. We all agree that she's a bitch, and I've put in far more effort with her than I have with Tristan."
"But you like Paris, Rory. The fact that she's a bitch, or the possibility that she despises you is irrelevant. You make an effort because you like the person, not because they're likeable. Oh, I have to go Rory. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Rory pouted, listening to the dial tone. "It's not fair that she always has to go before I get to hang up on her."
"Who was that?" Lorelai didn't look up.
"No one."
"You say no one, I'm assuming you've just arranged to meet someone you talked to online. He's fifty, fat, balding, and drools while watching the Olsen twins. He struck your fancy because of his funky screen-name: HOTSEXXX4U. It worked so strongly on your feminine urges you decided to elope to Vegas, first stop the Motel 6 on the I98. Spill, or I'm getting rid of the internet."
"It was Tristan."
"Did he ask you to go with him?"
"Yes."
"So what was the 'I'll see you tomorrow at seven' about? Did they bump the dance up and no one told me?"
"No. It was nothing."
"Okay." They watched the movie in silence for a few minutes. "You know if you're meeting him in Stars Hollow I'll know exactly what you're doing thirty seconds after he gets here. If I'll disapprove tell me now, and maybe you'll get time off for turning state's evidence."
"There's no reason you'd disapprove."
"Which doesn't mean I won't."
"I'm taking dancing lessons with him."
"Oh, man. I'm sorry. How did Mom rope you into that one? You shouldn't let her make you do things you don't want to. That's my place. Though I suppose Patty is a fitting punishment for all those months of misery he inflicted on you."
Rory didn't correct her mother's assumption, and conversation ceased while they watched the monkeys fly.
"I'll talk to Mom about it, try and set some boundaries for this whole thing. It's getting out of hand. Before you know it, she'll hire a chaperone and insist you have cards sent in."
"I thought that too. Not about the cards, about Miss Patty. That's why I invited him."
That got her mother's attention. "You invited Tristan? To take dance lessons with you? Where you'll be dancing in each others arms for hours on end? Days on end with your two, left, banana feet. What does this boy look like, and why haven't you told me about it before now?"
"Mom, that is not why - I just don't want to make a fool of myself."
"By telling Tristan that you think he's hot? That would be totally stupid, since you hate him so much. That's why you had to come up with an excuse to touch him. Not a bad one, if he can't dance. Awful, horrible, terrible if he can. Can he dance?"
"No, but-"
"Well, that's okay." Lorelai seemed doubtful. "Touching hot boys is fun, especially when Miss Patty is in charge of hand placement. But remember the hair."
"The hair?"
"Yeah, you remember. Lane and that boy last year? Just because a boy is scrumpalicious doesn't mean he's not a total jerk. You haven't done this yet, have you? Been hot for a boy you'd cheerfully defenestrate on a good day. You'll get over it fast. Soon enough the craving will go away, and the realisation of what an evil, smarmy, slimy, arrogant, insufferable person Tristan is will just seep right back in." She glanced sideways at Rory. "Now that I think about it, I don't think that this touching is a good thing, combined with the hating."
"Mom. God. Listen to me, because I mean this, and I'm only saying it once. I do not think Tristan is hot. I am not going to let Miss Patty put my hands on his butt. I have no desire to touch Tristan. I invited Tristan here because he's a worse dancer than I am, and I don't want to have to listen to Grandma's snipes across the dinner table. I know what Tristan's like, no seeping is necessary. Got it? Good."
Lorelai perked up, but said mournfully, "That's so sad Rory. You don't think anyone is hot. I can understand Tristan's personality blinding you to his biceps, but that Italian waiter last week-"
Rory gave it up as a lost cause, and took the phone into her room.
*******************************************************************
"So why did you invite him then, if it's not because he's hot?"
Rory glared at the telephone. "Because I felt sorry for him, for the fourth time."
"Because he was sad," Lane said thoughtfully.
"Yes. I felt sorry for him because he was sad. That's it."
"Hmm. Well I suppose it's a step up from kissing him because he's sad."
"Exactly. My heart is hardening; my kindly impulses toward my enemies are vanishing."
"An enemy. It didn't sound like that when you were talking about New Year's. I'm not sure it's ever sounded like that, actually."
"New Year's Eve was, an anomaly. Half an anomaly, because he was still a jerk that night."
"A jerk."
"Stop repeating my words!"
Lane ignored her. "You've done a lot to stop him feeling sad. Why do you do that, if he's such a jerk?"
Rory spluttered in indignation. "You're getting as bad as Lorelai. Totally ignore Paris why don't you. We all agree that she's a bitch, and I've put in far more effort with her than I have with Tristan."
"But you like Paris, Rory. The fact that she's a bitch, or the possibility that she despises you is irrelevant. You make an effort because you like the person, not because they're likeable. Oh, I have to go Rory. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Rory pouted, listening to the dial tone. "It's not fair that she always has to go before I get to hang up on her."