Chapter 179
The next morning came quickly. They had all stayed up late into the night once they'd gotten back to the hotel. They'd piled into Paris' room, where they'd shared another bottle of wine (and some ginger beer for Paris) and continued to chat. After a few hours, they'd all gone back to their respective rooms and slept. Except Paris, who had been wide awake, turning things over in her mind. Eventually, she'd convinced herself that this weekend her focus should be on continuing to bond with these women that she genuinely felt were becoming her friends. And with that, she'd put in a good forty minutes on working on her syllabus, a brief 20 minute crafting session, and then gone to sleep.
Still, it was Paris getting everyone up and going the next morning. It turns out pregnancy hadn't mellowed every part of her.
"Guys…it's almost ten. We're going to miss half the day if we don't get going soon," Paris said impatiently, upon a bleary-eyed Lane opening her and Rory's door to let Paris in. Rory sighed and looked at her phone.
"Paris, it's barely 9!"
"I don't know how long you guys take to get ready," Paris shrugged. Paris, for the record, was already ready. She was dressed in a charcoal cashmere sweater dress that accentuated her bump, which she'd paired with a pair of knee high, black suede flatboots and a draped wool coat. She looked as though she'd been up for hours.
"Fine, I'll text the others," Rory gave in.
"No need. I went there first. They're getting ready. Hannah was already up, actually."
Rory nodded, rolling her eyes as she climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
"How do you look like you've been up for hours? You haven't, have you?" Lane asked suspiciously. Paris smirked.
"…not hours. I woke up around 8. But I've been working a bit too."
Lane nodded. The shower started running, and Lane looked at Paris.
"Actually, I've been up since around 7," Lane admitted quietly. Paris raised an eyebrow, "I fell back asleep, which is why I look like…well, this. But I wanted to check on the boys."
"…how are they?"
"Great, apparently. Sookie said they're having tons of fun and excited about their 'super-sleepover'," Lane replied, a small smile on her face.
"You miss them," Paris said, softly, simply. Lane nodded.
"But…I need to be here. It was good that Rory put it together."
"Yeah, it was," Paris nodded. She only knew a little bit about Lane's personal situation, but knew enough to understand Lane was going through a lot, and that Lane was about as fond of her husband as Paris was of her own as things stood. Paris could tell that Lane was grateful for the time away.
Paris had never thought there was any chance she'd befriend Lane Kim. She'd been hugely jealous of Lane ever since Rory had become her friend. She knew Lane had come first, but what did that matter? Paris was better, than just about anybody. Nobody else could possibly be good enough to be Rory's best friend. Or rather, that's what Paris had thought when she was seventeen.
It was more than that, though. She envied the closeness of having had someone like Rory throughout all of one's growing-up. Paris didn't have friends when she was a kid. She was withdrawn, quiet, and preferred books to people, and without a Lorelai Gilmore mother to guide her, had receded so deeply into those preferences that she'd become unapproachable. Her own mother chastised her for this result, of course, without doing anything to help her form genuine connections. Her mother's view of an ideal social life made Paris more withdrawn than anything else, since it seemed to rely heavily on impressing people, having money and status, and endless power-plays and manipulation. To be fair, as a teen and young adult, Paris had found her niche when it came to some of those things. But she was always smart enough to know that as much as you mastered them, none of those things led to genuine connection. Which is why it took her aback so much to become Rory's friend, and then to see how simple it had been for Rory and Lane, how there were none of those tangled wires and tensions, how they simply liked each other and spent time together and that was that.
Paris' animosity had lasted through college, and a little beyond. She remembered being grudgingly impressed by Lane's decision to strike out on her own from her mother's strict religious upbringing, though Paris was decidedly less impressed when that resulted in Lane sleeping on their shared couch. Still, once Lane moved out and the angry itch of resentment had cleared from Paris' mind (she really, really didn't like sharing her space, and she liked sharing a space that she already shared with Rory even less), she'd continued being largely indifferent to Lane, other than the omnipresent thread of possessiveness over Rory. As she and Rory had become closer and closer, through their travails with college and jobs and everything else that came to be for them both, it was almost pushed out of Paris' mind.
Then they'd graduated, and Rory had gone off to be a reporter, and become very distant, even though New York was just a hop, skip and a jump away from Boston. Paris didn't know if Rory and Lane had stayed close during that time, but one thing was certain- Rory and herself had not. Looking back now, Paris understood that this likely had a lot more to do with Rory's own existential concern about her career and avoidance, but still, they'd still never discussed that distance or acknowledged it.
It had hurt Paris. She knew that most people left college, got jobs, got married, and forgot about the friends they'd been close to. Paris was cold and logical, and those were facts. But something about Rory and Lorelai and their weird, charming charisma had made Paris believe that they'd stay close. So when phone dates started getting cancelled, visits pushed back, texts left on read for days, Paris, in spite of all of her logic and reason and facts, was crushed.
She'd buried herself in her own life, which worked, to an extent. She and Doyle had become engaged (news that she shared with Rory in a voicemail), and then later, married. Paris had always thought she'd have Rory there if she got married, as her maid of honor, or whatever more progressive version of that role she decided on. But when it came down to it, by that time, Paris and Rory were only touching base every couple of months, she hadn't seen Rory in over a year, and Paris didn't want to deal with the headache of planning an enormous party and having to spend time with her atrocious family just to memorialize a way of living she felt that she and Doyle had been enjoying for a long time by that point. So she'd convinced him into a quick courthouse ceremony to solemnize the agreement. It hadn't taken much convincing, if only because Doyle was never interested in helping plan, or execute plans, and didn't even really like when Paris did things involving lots of plans, as he thought it made her stressed out. The simpler, the better, he'd agreed. Paris tried not to think about how it had felt, though, to get married without Rory there. Paris had also buried herself in her work, which she'd truly loved, at the time. She felt very challenged and interested in her work as a surgeon, and rising through the ranks, and doing so more quickly than anyone else at her level, had brought her a great deal of satisfaction. And, more usefully, distraction. It kept her immersed, so that she had very little time to ruminate. She barely had time for a social life, or to notice the parts of hers that were lacking. She woke up, went to the gym, went to work until all hours of the night, came home for dinner with Doyle if it was a shorter day, crafted for an hour or so while watching TV and then fell asleep. It was all-consuming, and that suited her fine, at the time.
When she got pregnant, the cracks started to appear. Getting pregnant had been Doyle's idea. He'd said that about a year after they got married was the "normal" amount of time, an idea that Paris did not believe but also had not challenged. She was honestly sort of neutral on the kids thing, at the time. Paris had always had a slight leaning towards having them, as much as it didn't seem to comport with the rest of her personality. When she was younger, it was become she believed that her intelligence should be passed on to further generations. As she became older, she couldn't totally place what changed, but she knew it had something to do with Lorelai Gilmore, and their lunches, and the way that Doyle always laughed so freely, which Paris had never done as a child, and still felt a little strange about as an adult. So when Doyle floated the idea, Paris had said "Sure." Her body had agreed, and she was pregnant by the next month, much to her own surprise.
When she'd found out, Paris had surprised herself by being delighted. Paris had done a blood test, on herself, at work. She was more curious than anything, and of course was uniquely positioned to provide herself with that service. So she did, expecting a result that would be fine with her either way. In truth, when she found out, she walked out of the hospital, down several streets to a coffee shop far away from her work and her colleagues, and went into their bathroom and cried for twenty minutes.
She hadn't expected to be so bowled over. To feel so sure, so ready, and so excited. But that feeling that overtook her so powerfully quickly turned to panic. She suddenly realized the level of responsiblity she was taking on, the degree to which this would change her life, and thought of her own family, and became worried about her ability to do it. Over the next few months, she settled back into a place of systems, formulas, logic, rules and plans, all of which served to bring her comfort and confidence in her ability to do this, and assuaged her panic.
Of course, this was when Rory reentered Paris' life, in a meaningful way. She'd asked to visit, and she said she was bringing someone, and Paris could not overstate how relieved she was to see Jess in the passenger's seat, rather than anybody else Rory had taken up with. She'd always liked Jess, and it felt right to see him there, even though Rory was so clearly off. Paris had been glad to help her, guide her through planning and plotting, and when the time was right, to share with her the pregnancy news.
Paris suspected it wasn't just coincidence that brought Rory back into her life once she was expecting a baby. And once Rory had reentered the picture, and as Paris' pregnancy progressed, she found herself softening. She softened towards the idea of being more flexible, the idea of accommodating more of a social life. She found herself more enthralled with her baby's first kick than an extremely successful cardiovascular surgery that required enormous expertise. And for once, instead of being too scared to face that feeling, she leaned into it. She'd realized that she needed to do something that brought her a greater sense of fulfillment, not just in terms of mental challenge, but in terms of alignment with her own values. She also found her tolerance and patience for Doyle waning, which she was treating with cautious, but also awareness. It all just felt a bit more…balanced, even if it wasn't as predictable, or sure, or reliable. Paris had said yes to this weekend without a second thought, genuinely happy about the prospect of getting to know some of the other girls better, particularly Hannah, who Paris felt had more potential as a friend than anyone she'd ever met besides Rory. And, after Paris' baby shower, she was actually looking forward to seeing Lane again.
Lane. Rory's best friend, before Paris even knew her, and beyond the memories that Paris would ever have with her. The few moments they'd shared of mutual understanding, about the idea of motherhood, among other things, had really opened up Paris' mind to the idea that maybe Lane could be her friend too, and not just in a "friend-of-Rory's" way. And she'd noticed quickly the previous night, when Rory had run immediately to hug Lane first, that something was missing. It was the thread, completely pulled away now. Paris couldn't believe how much had to have changed in their lives, and in her own mind, to be where they were now. She was happy, and grateful. And she felt something for Lane in this moment- not pity, but empathy. She knew how it felt to want to escape your life, and to feel trapped. She might actually relate to Lane better than anyone else on the trip. And for that reason, Paris found herself leaning in and giving Lane a hug. Lane tensed up, surprised, but then found herself hugging Paris back tightly.
"I'm around anytime if you want to talk. Okay?"
"…okay. I might just take you up on that," Lane admitted, "Thanks, Paris."
Paris nodded. Lane looked at her curiously and then smiled, walking over to her suitcase to grab some clothes.
"Wear something that will go with a leather jacket," Paris called.
