I Miss You
Chapter 12: I See Your Picture
A few days after receiving the letter, he sits down to drink his morning coffee and pores over the Hartford Chronicle. He peruses the front page, and, finding nothing of interest, skims through the rest of the paper. On page eleven, a blurb on the society page captures his attention.
She is the last person he expects to see, especially after his decision. But there she is, in all her black and white newsprint glory, staring up at him from the paper, even before he has a chance to finish his first cup of coffee. Nevertheless, he finds his eyes tracing the words next to the picture. Lorelai Gilmore, daughter of Christopher Hayden and Lorelai Gilmore, granddaughter of Richard and Emily Gilmore of the Hartford Gilmores. Senior Journalism Major at Harvard University studying abroad in Rome. Set to leave in one week.
He recognizes the picture that is in the paper. It is her senior portrait from high school. He remembers standing behind the photographer, making goofy faces to ensure that her smile would be genuine. He had laughed when she had told him that she wanted him to be there. He, of course, had expertly posed and summoned a very convincing smile for the uptight, unbearably formal photographs. But it hadn't been as easy for her. So he had helped her through it, in much the same manner that they had seen each other through countless other obstacles that year.
He folds the newspaper carefully, making sure each crease is perfectly straight. He examines his fingertips distastefully, taking note of the ink smudges that stain his skin. He carelessly rubs them against his clean pants, enjoying the way it mars the pristine perfection. There is no perfection, he reminds himself cynically. Everything, everyone, has flaws.
He rolls his eyes at his own bitter thoughts. Only he could turn something as innocuous as a few ink smudges into the downfall of mankind. Maybe he isn't handling this as well as he thinks.
He dismisses that thought from his head. He is coping as well as can be expected. He can't bring himself to be with her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for her. He will always care for her, because she will always be the one who convinced him that love does exist. If there is one thing he has learned from Rory Gilmore, it is that everyone deserves to be loved.
He picks up a new section of the paper and sips his now lukewarm coffee. He pushes all thoughts of her from his mind for the rest of that day.
***
The next morning, he sits down at the same table with a cup of coffee. The Hartford Chronicle is again left by his seat at the table. Taking a long swallow of coffee, he opens up the paper. There on the front page is the same picture of her from yesterday's paper, only this time, the caption has changed. Rory Gilmore, struck by a speeding car outside of the local diner in Stars Hollow. Full text article on page eight. His eyes widen with shock, and he hears the sound of his rapidly pumping heart in his ears. Frantically, he flips through the pages while his other hand reaches for the phone.
***
STARS HOLLOW-Twenty one year old Rory Gilmore, a local resident of Stars Hollow, was mowed down by a speeding car late last night. She was in the crosswalk located outside a local diner, Luke's, when a car failed to stop at the red light. The driver, an unidentified Caucasian male, is thought to have been under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident. Miss Gilmore is being kept in the Intensive Care Unit at Hartford General for injuries sustained during the crash...
***
The phone rings and rings. There is no answer at her house. They are probably at the hospital, idiot. Leaving his unfinished cup of coffee on the table and the pages of the paper lying separated in a heap on the floor, he grabs his keys and runs out to the garage.
***
Ten minutes later, he squeals to a stop illegally in front of the doors to the ICU. He ignores the security guard yelling at him to move his car and pushes his way to the information desk.
"Rory Gilmore," he pants.
The nurse eyes him suspiciously. "Relationship?"
"Boyfriend," he says unconsciously.
Her gaze immediately softens. "Make a right at the end of that hallway," she says, pointing him in the right direction.
"Thank you," he tosses over his shoulder, hurrying down the hallway.
He rounds the corner and is immediately confronted by the sight of Lorelai, pacing relentlessly in front of the glass windows looking into Rory's room. In the waiting area a few feet away, he sees Luke, her grandparents, and Christopher.
Lorelai looks up and sees him standing there. He looks disheveled and out of breath. Wordlessly, she opens her arms to him. He pauses a second, then steps into her embrace. He pulls away and peers through the glass windows. "How bad is it?"
She wipes her watery eyes, the same eyes she has passed on to her daughter. "Mild head trauma, a few superficial cuts and bruises. Not too bad, considering...She was unconscious when they brought her in, but she's slipped into a normal sleep now. They're going to move her to a regular room when she wakes up."
"She's a feisty one," he says, offering her a small smile.
"I don't know where she gets it," she says, smiling back. "How did you know to come here?"
"I read it in the paper this morning."
Lorelai looks ashamed. "I am so sorry. I should have called you."
"I'm sure you had more important things to worry about. Besides, you don't owe me anything, not when it comes to Rory."
"Don't be silly," she scolds him. "Like it or not, you're a part of this family."
Am I? he wonders.
***
Late that night, after Luke finally talks Lorelai into getting some sleep at home, he remains at his station, watching her through the glass. She has slept peacefully all day, well on her way to recovery. It is in the relative privacy of the deserted hallway that he finally allows the tears to crack through the tough exterior. He prefers not to analyze what he is feeling; he has already given the state of their relationship far too much thought.
A hand on his shoulder startles him. Hastily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he turns around.
"Mr. Hayden," he acknowledges.
"Christopher," he corrects. "Mr. Hayden makes me feel old."
There is an awkward silence. Christopher clears his throat. He had sworn to himself that he would never be the overprotective, embarrassing father, but when confronted with the man who reminds him so much of himself at that age...
"Look," he says, not sure of how to begin. "I don't know how much you know about my relationship with Lorelai, but..."
Tristin stares at him, unsure of where he is going with this.
Christopher lets out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, I'm just going to come out and say this. The relationship you and Rory have reminds me of what I had with Lorelai. You love each other to death, but you can't seem to get it together. Am I close?"
"I'm listening," he says, slowly.
"I know that things between the two of you are messed up. I don't know the circumstances, or who is to blame, but all I can say is don't let the chance to be together pass you by. Sooner or later, you're going to run out of chances."
"It's already too late."
"Of course it's not. You're here, aren't you?"
"Thanks for the advice," he says tiredly, "but I think I'm going to go home now." He slowly walks down hallway, silent except for the beeps of heart monitors and whirring of machines.
Christopher watches him go, then enters his daughter's room. He pulls a chair up to the side of her bed and lovingly places a kiss on her cheek. "There's no place for pride when it comes to love," he whispers sadly.
She stirs, then opens her eyes. "Dad?"
12/21
Chapter 12: I See Your Picture
A few days after receiving the letter, he sits down to drink his morning coffee and pores over the Hartford Chronicle. He peruses the front page, and, finding nothing of interest, skims through the rest of the paper. On page eleven, a blurb on the society page captures his attention.
She is the last person he expects to see, especially after his decision. But there she is, in all her black and white newsprint glory, staring up at him from the paper, even before he has a chance to finish his first cup of coffee. Nevertheless, he finds his eyes tracing the words next to the picture. Lorelai Gilmore, daughter of Christopher Hayden and Lorelai Gilmore, granddaughter of Richard and Emily Gilmore of the Hartford Gilmores. Senior Journalism Major at Harvard University studying abroad in Rome. Set to leave in one week.
He recognizes the picture that is in the paper. It is her senior portrait from high school. He remembers standing behind the photographer, making goofy faces to ensure that her smile would be genuine. He had laughed when she had told him that she wanted him to be there. He, of course, had expertly posed and summoned a very convincing smile for the uptight, unbearably formal photographs. But it hadn't been as easy for her. So he had helped her through it, in much the same manner that they had seen each other through countless other obstacles that year.
He folds the newspaper carefully, making sure each crease is perfectly straight. He examines his fingertips distastefully, taking note of the ink smudges that stain his skin. He carelessly rubs them against his clean pants, enjoying the way it mars the pristine perfection. There is no perfection, he reminds himself cynically. Everything, everyone, has flaws.
He rolls his eyes at his own bitter thoughts. Only he could turn something as innocuous as a few ink smudges into the downfall of mankind. Maybe he isn't handling this as well as he thinks.
He dismisses that thought from his head. He is coping as well as can be expected. He can't bring himself to be with her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for her. He will always care for her, because she will always be the one who convinced him that love does exist. If there is one thing he has learned from Rory Gilmore, it is that everyone deserves to be loved.
He picks up a new section of the paper and sips his now lukewarm coffee. He pushes all thoughts of her from his mind for the rest of that day.
***
The next morning, he sits down at the same table with a cup of coffee. The Hartford Chronicle is again left by his seat at the table. Taking a long swallow of coffee, he opens up the paper. There on the front page is the same picture of her from yesterday's paper, only this time, the caption has changed. Rory Gilmore, struck by a speeding car outside of the local diner in Stars Hollow. Full text article on page eight. His eyes widen with shock, and he hears the sound of his rapidly pumping heart in his ears. Frantically, he flips through the pages while his other hand reaches for the phone.
***
STARS HOLLOW-Twenty one year old Rory Gilmore, a local resident of Stars Hollow, was mowed down by a speeding car late last night. She was in the crosswalk located outside a local diner, Luke's, when a car failed to stop at the red light. The driver, an unidentified Caucasian male, is thought to have been under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident. Miss Gilmore is being kept in the Intensive Care Unit at Hartford General for injuries sustained during the crash...
***
The phone rings and rings. There is no answer at her house. They are probably at the hospital, idiot. Leaving his unfinished cup of coffee on the table and the pages of the paper lying separated in a heap on the floor, he grabs his keys and runs out to the garage.
***
Ten minutes later, he squeals to a stop illegally in front of the doors to the ICU. He ignores the security guard yelling at him to move his car and pushes his way to the information desk.
"Rory Gilmore," he pants.
The nurse eyes him suspiciously. "Relationship?"
"Boyfriend," he says unconsciously.
Her gaze immediately softens. "Make a right at the end of that hallway," she says, pointing him in the right direction.
"Thank you," he tosses over his shoulder, hurrying down the hallway.
He rounds the corner and is immediately confronted by the sight of Lorelai, pacing relentlessly in front of the glass windows looking into Rory's room. In the waiting area a few feet away, he sees Luke, her grandparents, and Christopher.
Lorelai looks up and sees him standing there. He looks disheveled and out of breath. Wordlessly, she opens her arms to him. He pauses a second, then steps into her embrace. He pulls away and peers through the glass windows. "How bad is it?"
She wipes her watery eyes, the same eyes she has passed on to her daughter. "Mild head trauma, a few superficial cuts and bruises. Not too bad, considering...She was unconscious when they brought her in, but she's slipped into a normal sleep now. They're going to move her to a regular room when she wakes up."
"She's a feisty one," he says, offering her a small smile.
"I don't know where she gets it," she says, smiling back. "How did you know to come here?"
"I read it in the paper this morning."
Lorelai looks ashamed. "I am so sorry. I should have called you."
"I'm sure you had more important things to worry about. Besides, you don't owe me anything, not when it comes to Rory."
"Don't be silly," she scolds him. "Like it or not, you're a part of this family."
Am I? he wonders.
***
Late that night, after Luke finally talks Lorelai into getting some sleep at home, he remains at his station, watching her through the glass. She has slept peacefully all day, well on her way to recovery. It is in the relative privacy of the deserted hallway that he finally allows the tears to crack through the tough exterior. He prefers not to analyze what he is feeling; he has already given the state of their relationship far too much thought.
A hand on his shoulder startles him. Hastily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he turns around.
"Mr. Hayden," he acknowledges.
"Christopher," he corrects. "Mr. Hayden makes me feel old."
There is an awkward silence. Christopher clears his throat. He had sworn to himself that he would never be the overprotective, embarrassing father, but when confronted with the man who reminds him so much of himself at that age...
"Look," he says, not sure of how to begin. "I don't know how much you know about my relationship with Lorelai, but..."
Tristin stares at him, unsure of where he is going with this.
Christopher lets out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, I'm just going to come out and say this. The relationship you and Rory have reminds me of what I had with Lorelai. You love each other to death, but you can't seem to get it together. Am I close?"
"I'm listening," he says, slowly.
"I know that things between the two of you are messed up. I don't know the circumstances, or who is to blame, but all I can say is don't let the chance to be together pass you by. Sooner or later, you're going to run out of chances."
"It's already too late."
"Of course it's not. You're here, aren't you?"
"Thanks for the advice," he says tiredly, "but I think I'm going to go home now." He slowly walks down hallway, silent except for the beeps of heart monitors and whirring of machines.
Christopher watches him go, then enters his daughter's room. He pulls a chair up to the side of her bed and lovingly places a kiss on her cheek. "There's no place for pride when it comes to love," he whispers sadly.
She stirs, then opens her eyes. "Dad?"
12/21