Tracks of My Tears
By: ZLizabeth (Lizabeth)
Disclaimer: nt mn a.s.ps
A SHORT DISCLAIMER
Author's Note: I have been getting a lot of reviews saying that I need to work on formatting. Okay, so I'm working on it. I'm sorry about everything else.
And I promise the story will be getting happier soon! After this chapter!
~
Lorelai looked up at Luke and then down at her empty coffee cup.
"Guess what I want more than anything in the world right now."
Rory scrambled onto her mother's lap and grinned at Luke, "Mommy wants coffee."
"You are a smart little girl," Lorelai said, kissing the top of her head.
"Rory, you're getting bigger every day," Luke remarked as he carelessly poured another cup of coffee for Lorelai, "it's probably because you don't have coffee stunting your growth and poisoning your very soul."
"Ah. The doctor was wondering what was doing that to me," Lorelai said.
"Shut up Ms. Gilmore."
"Shut up Duke."
Rory settled back into her mother's soft sweater. It was so interesting watching her Mommy and Mr. Luke argue. They acted like they hated each other... but she was sure that they didn't. After all, Luke had never once charged them... as far as she could remember. And she couldn't imagine him ever doing so. That would have been the end of her world.
~
The memory she started off with was just something she'd remembered lying in bed. It was a happy memory... and now she was awake. She opened up her laptop and began to write.
~
She came out of the store in deep thought. She was thinking of course, of how furious she was at that idiot for saying things like that to her mom. He had seemed all right at first, but how could she like anyone who her mother didn't like? That was violating whatever rules she and her mother shared in the extremely strange mother daughter best friends relationship they had. She didn't even see him coming up to her.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," she said tartly.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked. He sounded so *very*, *very concerned*.
"I needed something for school. What about you?" she replied.
"Oh yeah, same thing."
"Uh huh. So, that was quite a disappearing act you pulled the other night," she was finding herself quite ready to get into a fight with Luke's nephew, the boy she was supposed to respect, be friends with, etc., he was Luke's nephew!
"Potlucks and Tupperware parties aren't really my thing."
"Too cool for school, huh?"
"Yes, that is me."
"What are you doing?" her patience was running out.
"Oh this? Nothing. Just another little disappearing act," her anger was disappearing. Furious with herself, she tried to call it back.
"Little tip?" she said.
"Yeah?"
"If you ever want to speak to me again, don't pull that out of my ear."
"So I assume the nose is off limits too?" this was turning into a banter. The sort of banter she could have only with her mother. Feel safe within the conversation, the intelligent exchanges of simple words locking out intruders.
"Any place you wouldn't naturally find a coin, let's leave it that way."
"So what are you doing now?"
"I have some homework to finish."
"Okay, then I'll leave you this last little trick," he pulled out a book. It took her a second to recognize it.
"You bought a copy? I told you I'd lend you mine," it already looked worn. Maybe he was a bit of a reader.
"It is yours," finally. Another excuse to be angry. She felt, however, only the tiniest glimmer of anger returning. And it wasn't even anger, it was... it wasn't anything.
"You stole my book," she said at last.
"Nope, borrowed it."
"Okay, that's not called a trick, that's called a felony."
"I just wanted to put some notes in the margins for you."
"What?" she leafed through the pages and read a comment he'd written - the same thing she'd realized after quite a few rereads," "you've read this before." Now she had a definite emotion: delight.
"About forty times."
"I thought you said you didn't read much."
"Well, what is much? Goodnight Rory."
"Goodnight Dodger."
"Dodger?"
"Figure it out."
"Oliver Twist."
She smiled and nodded. They both walked away and didn't even notice that the smile didn't leave her face until that night.
*
"Okay, Jess, here's one for you."
"What?" he asked, wiping away at the diner counter and avoiding her eyes.
"If Ayn Rand is so terrible, why does she use..."
"Enough with Any Rand," he said, throwing the dishrag at her. She threw it at his face and stared at his turned back.
"Jess..."
He spun around and looked at her.
*At least he makes eye contact* she thought.
"How about this one. If a snowman's head falls off in the middle of the field and only one hooligan is there to hear it - the hooligan who committed the terrible crime of beheading the mound of snow with the professionally made little carrot nose - does the crime still count?"
"If no one catches the hooligan then it's not his crime, is it? Because no one can prove he did it. Maybe he didn't do it."
She smiled, "I think he did."
"Think what you like."
"I think it was actually very nice of the hooligan."
"Hey, if the hypothetical hooligan did do it, it's only because the hypothetical girl deserved it."
She felt something melt within her when he said that. Something... she wasn't sure what... but something. She suddenly felt the strong desire to go home and lay down and eat ice cream and tell her mother everything. Not the kind of thing she wanted to want right now.
Instead she got up and gave the hooligan a smile before leaving the diner and heading off to school.
Once she was directly below the HARDWARE sign she turned abruptly around and sapphire eyes met a pair of dark ones that were staring very intently back.
She fell into her car and drove away faster then usual.
Her writer's heart was coming up with a thousand cheesy expressions and not a single one that made her very happy: no matter how fast she went, she wasn't going to get any faster then the thumping in her chest right now.
~
"Mrs. Hart!" Dean said when he woke up late that night and found his wife bleary eyed and staring at her laptop screen. He glanced at what she'd written and saw only one line before she closed the screen... "and then she kissed him".
"What are you writing?" he asked.
"Nothing," she shut down the laptop and walked to the bed, "goodnight."
"I have to go to the store," he said, "I just remembered we don't have any more coffee mix."
"You do that."
He smiled at her and left. She was the one he loved, she was. He pulled out of the driveway and repeated it in his head, even spoke out loud in the solitude of the driver's seat, "I love her, I love her."
Plunk. Plunk.
Rory grabbed her pillow, covered her ears with it and buried her head as far into the mattress as possible.
"Go away!" she murmured, sleep already claiming her.
Plunk. Plunk.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and curled up as small as she could. If she was smaller, then her ears couldn't hear things as loud. Oh, for the logic of the sleepy.
Plunk.
She rubbed the dust from her eyes and sat up in bed, letting loose a string of profaniti. Not exactly fitting for one of such a composed state in being awoken. She didn't exactly take after her mother. It must come with old age. She was such an old lady now. One profanity, two profaniti.
Once satisfied, she lay back down in her bed.
"Hey! You!" someone was calling from outside. The Plunker. They would have to wait their turn. She was lined up until morning. The girl fell back into her bed and greeted the date she was planning on staying out all night with.
"Hello, Sleep. You look lovely tonight."
She let her eyes drift shut and pulled Colonel Cluckers into a tighter hold.
Pl-
"Death to all Plunkies," she thought as the noise resounded throughout her airy bedroom. Plunk. At last she pulled herself up and walked to the window.
"What the hell is going on you little.... insignificant.... little plunking ...worm..." she yawned and opened her window. Rubbing her eyes she finished her round of insults with - for good and degrading measure -, "kid!"
"I missed you to," she heard. She was already half asleep so she simply opened her eyes then leaned out the window to look at whoever was there. Her body wasn't awake yet and as she threw her head out the now open widow she nearly toppled out. The Plunker had climbed up though, and she fell into someone instead. Her brain refused to digest the smell of his shirt, it was complaining that it was to early in the morning for thinking. So she simply raised her eyes and suddenly felt very, very, very awake.
"What are you doing here?" was all she could say.
"I just needed to tell you something."
"What?"
"You can stop crying, I'm back."
"Well, I just can't get rid of you, can I?"
By: ZLizabeth (Lizabeth)
Disclaimer: nt mn a.s.ps
A SHORT DISCLAIMER
Author's Note: I have been getting a lot of reviews saying that I need to work on formatting. Okay, so I'm working on it. I'm sorry about everything else.
And I promise the story will be getting happier soon! After this chapter!
~
Lorelai looked up at Luke and then down at her empty coffee cup.
"Guess what I want more than anything in the world right now."
Rory scrambled onto her mother's lap and grinned at Luke, "Mommy wants coffee."
"You are a smart little girl," Lorelai said, kissing the top of her head.
"Rory, you're getting bigger every day," Luke remarked as he carelessly poured another cup of coffee for Lorelai, "it's probably because you don't have coffee stunting your growth and poisoning your very soul."
"Ah. The doctor was wondering what was doing that to me," Lorelai said.
"Shut up Ms. Gilmore."
"Shut up Duke."
Rory settled back into her mother's soft sweater. It was so interesting watching her Mommy and Mr. Luke argue. They acted like they hated each other... but she was sure that they didn't. After all, Luke had never once charged them... as far as she could remember. And she couldn't imagine him ever doing so. That would have been the end of her world.
~
The memory she started off with was just something she'd remembered lying in bed. It was a happy memory... and now she was awake. She opened up her laptop and began to write.
~
She came out of the store in deep thought. She was thinking of course, of how furious she was at that idiot for saying things like that to her mom. He had seemed all right at first, but how could she like anyone who her mother didn't like? That was violating whatever rules she and her mother shared in the extremely strange mother daughter best friends relationship they had. She didn't even see him coming up to her.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," she said tartly.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked. He sounded so *very*, *very concerned*.
"I needed something for school. What about you?" she replied.
"Oh yeah, same thing."
"Uh huh. So, that was quite a disappearing act you pulled the other night," she was finding herself quite ready to get into a fight with Luke's nephew, the boy she was supposed to respect, be friends with, etc., he was Luke's nephew!
"Potlucks and Tupperware parties aren't really my thing."
"Too cool for school, huh?"
"Yes, that is me."
"What are you doing?" her patience was running out.
"Oh this? Nothing. Just another little disappearing act," her anger was disappearing. Furious with herself, she tried to call it back.
"Little tip?" she said.
"Yeah?"
"If you ever want to speak to me again, don't pull that out of my ear."
"So I assume the nose is off limits too?" this was turning into a banter. The sort of banter she could have only with her mother. Feel safe within the conversation, the intelligent exchanges of simple words locking out intruders.
"Any place you wouldn't naturally find a coin, let's leave it that way."
"So what are you doing now?"
"I have some homework to finish."
"Okay, then I'll leave you this last little trick," he pulled out a book. It took her a second to recognize it.
"You bought a copy? I told you I'd lend you mine," it already looked worn. Maybe he was a bit of a reader.
"It is yours," finally. Another excuse to be angry. She felt, however, only the tiniest glimmer of anger returning. And it wasn't even anger, it was... it wasn't anything.
"You stole my book," she said at last.
"Nope, borrowed it."
"Okay, that's not called a trick, that's called a felony."
"I just wanted to put some notes in the margins for you."
"What?" she leafed through the pages and read a comment he'd written - the same thing she'd realized after quite a few rereads," "you've read this before." Now she had a definite emotion: delight.
"About forty times."
"I thought you said you didn't read much."
"Well, what is much? Goodnight Rory."
"Goodnight Dodger."
"Dodger?"
"Figure it out."
"Oliver Twist."
She smiled and nodded. They both walked away and didn't even notice that the smile didn't leave her face until that night.
*
"Okay, Jess, here's one for you."
"What?" he asked, wiping away at the diner counter and avoiding her eyes.
"If Ayn Rand is so terrible, why does she use..."
"Enough with Any Rand," he said, throwing the dishrag at her. She threw it at his face and stared at his turned back.
"Jess..."
He spun around and looked at her.
*At least he makes eye contact* she thought.
"How about this one. If a snowman's head falls off in the middle of the field and only one hooligan is there to hear it - the hooligan who committed the terrible crime of beheading the mound of snow with the professionally made little carrot nose - does the crime still count?"
"If no one catches the hooligan then it's not his crime, is it? Because no one can prove he did it. Maybe he didn't do it."
She smiled, "I think he did."
"Think what you like."
"I think it was actually very nice of the hooligan."
"Hey, if the hypothetical hooligan did do it, it's only because the hypothetical girl deserved it."
She felt something melt within her when he said that. Something... she wasn't sure what... but something. She suddenly felt the strong desire to go home and lay down and eat ice cream and tell her mother everything. Not the kind of thing she wanted to want right now.
Instead she got up and gave the hooligan a smile before leaving the diner and heading off to school.
Once she was directly below the HARDWARE sign she turned abruptly around and sapphire eyes met a pair of dark ones that were staring very intently back.
She fell into her car and drove away faster then usual.
Her writer's heart was coming up with a thousand cheesy expressions and not a single one that made her very happy: no matter how fast she went, she wasn't going to get any faster then the thumping in her chest right now.
~
"Mrs. Hart!" Dean said when he woke up late that night and found his wife bleary eyed and staring at her laptop screen. He glanced at what she'd written and saw only one line before she closed the screen... "and then she kissed him".
"What are you writing?" he asked.
"Nothing," she shut down the laptop and walked to the bed, "goodnight."
"I have to go to the store," he said, "I just remembered we don't have any more coffee mix."
"You do that."
He smiled at her and left. She was the one he loved, she was. He pulled out of the driveway and repeated it in his head, even spoke out loud in the solitude of the driver's seat, "I love her, I love her."
Plunk. Plunk.
Rory grabbed her pillow, covered her ears with it and buried her head as far into the mattress as possible.
"Go away!" she murmured, sleep already claiming her.
Plunk. Plunk.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and curled up as small as she could. If she was smaller, then her ears couldn't hear things as loud. Oh, for the logic of the sleepy.
Plunk.
She rubbed the dust from her eyes and sat up in bed, letting loose a string of profaniti. Not exactly fitting for one of such a composed state in being awoken. She didn't exactly take after her mother. It must come with old age. She was such an old lady now. One profanity, two profaniti.
Once satisfied, she lay back down in her bed.
"Hey! You!" someone was calling from outside. The Plunker. They would have to wait their turn. She was lined up until morning. The girl fell back into her bed and greeted the date she was planning on staying out all night with.
"Hello, Sleep. You look lovely tonight."
She let her eyes drift shut and pulled Colonel Cluckers into a tighter hold.
Pl-
"Death to all Plunkies," she thought as the noise resounded throughout her airy bedroom. Plunk. At last she pulled herself up and walked to the window.
"What the hell is going on you little.... insignificant.... little plunking ...worm..." she yawned and opened her window. Rubbing her eyes she finished her round of insults with - for good and degrading measure -, "kid!"
"I missed you to," she heard. She was already half asleep so she simply opened her eyes then leaned out the window to look at whoever was there. Her body wasn't awake yet and as she threw her head out the now open widow she nearly toppled out. The Plunker had climbed up though, and she fell into someone instead. Her brain refused to digest the smell of his shirt, it was complaining that it was to early in the morning for thinking. So she simply raised her eyes and suddenly felt very, very, very awake.
"What are you doing here?" was all she could say.
"I just needed to tell you something."
"What?"
"You can stop crying, I'm back."
"Well, I just can't get rid of you, can I?"