I Miss You
Chapter 20: (that) I Care
***
It's late. The blank inked lines in the red leather bound book begin to run together. She blinks rapidly and tries to clear her vision, but the sleepiness persists. She admits defeat. She smothers a yawn and places a bookmark between the cream colored pages. The book is placed in its spot on her night table. She leans over and turns off the light with a soft click. The warm glow is extinguished and the room is shrouded in darkness.
She wriggles down under the blankets and flannel sheets and pulls them up to her nose. She breathes a sigh of contentment. The moonlight glows through her window and paints crooked patterns on her carpet. She could almost trace her finger over its outline if she wanted to. The only sound is the occasional swooshing of passing cars. Their headlights sweep across her walls in a yellow path from her head to her dresser.
And the rest is silence.
She waits for sleep to come, but it seems to be taking its sweet old time tonight. She can't figure out why. She's warm and comfortable, and tired as hell. The stillness of her dark room is shattered as a harsh ring rips through the room. She smiles. Bingo. The reason for her sleeplessness. She hasn't talked to him yet tonight, and that's why she can't sleep. She guesses that after a month of talking to him every night before bed she can't fall asleep without him.
She fumbles for the phone in the dark. She accidentally knocks the receiver off of its cradle and utters a mild expletive. "Hello?" she says, bringing the receiver to her ear.
"Hey," he says. She can hear the smirk in his voice.
"What are you so smug about?" she asks, stifling another yawn.
"Were you sleeping?" His voice changes from casual to chagrinned in a matter of seconds.
"Nah, I couldn't sleep. You sound wide awake though."
"You know me…it'll be another few hours before I get tired. Still on college time."
"So why must I suffer with you?" she groans.
"Oh, don't even try it. You love every second of it."
"Yeah, I'm kind of dumb like that," she admits.
"So, tell me…" His voice deepens suggestively and his words are spoken in a whispered growl. "What are you wearing?"
She rolls her eyes even as her cheeks flush. Outside, a pair of headlights picks its way across her wall but stops and remains on a framed painting of Venice. Suddenly suspicious, she pushes her bedding to the side and pads her way to the window. The bright glare of the headlights blinds her. She raises a hand to shield her eyes.
"Well?" He expectantly waits for her answer.
She looks down at her flannel polar bear pajamas. "A blue evening gown," she finally says.
The lights turn off. He steps out of the car with his cell phone to his ear. "Liar," he says, looking at her though her window.
She smiles delightedly. "What do you think you're doing here, buddy? Visiting hours are over."
He shrugs. "I was bored. And then I remembered 'Hey, it's time to call Rory!' But as I picked up the phone, I thought 'Why call when I can drive over there and make her talk to me in person?" He smiles at her. "So are you going to let me in the door or am I going to have to climb through the window?"
She sighs in mock exasperation. "Hang on, I'll be out in a second."
She leaves the window and hangs up her phone. She runs her fingers through her hair and steps into her fuzzy blue slippers. She quietly opens her bedroom door and walks down the darkened hallway. Carefully, she unlocks the front door and opens it. A blast of frigid air assaults her.
He's standing on the porch, shoulders hunched, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. She feels cold and warm all at once. "Get in here."
"Gladly," he says, stepping into the warmth of the Gilmore house.
She shuts the door behind him. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. She reaches up to hug him. She stands on the tips of her toes and touches her lips to the place between his cheek and jaw.
"Where's Luke and your mom?" he whispers.
"Sleeping," she whispers back, "like all the rest of the normal people." She leads him into the living room and plops down on the couch. "Let's find some bad infomercials or cheesy movie to mock."
He settles on the couch next to her and draws her closer to him. She snuggles into his warmth as he pulls a blanket over them. "Sounds good."
In almost no time at all they are asleep. The television's soft blue glow flickers over their peaceful faces. The howling wind rattles the windows and whips through the trees, but it isn't loud enough to disturb their sleep.
***
The day dawns bright and clear. She thinks that she has never seen the sky that shade of blue before. She smoothes the folds of her spectacular gown. The filmy white layers rustle softly, mere whispers caught in the gentle breeze of a beautiful spring day. She holds a bouquet of pure white daisies tied with a pale yellow ribbon. She looks up. She sees him standing at the altar, jittery and calm all at once. He stands in the gazebo with the priest and his college roommate.
Rows and rows of white chairs are lined up on the lawn. A soft white cloth is unfurled in the center of the aisle. It leads straight up to the altar. A string quartet begins to play Pachelbel's Canon in D. Her mother, wearing a light, sky blue dress, walks down the aisle escorted by Luke. A line of bridesmaids wearing yellow dresses follows. The string quartet glides effortlessly into Mendelssohn's Wedding March.
She feels a tug on her arm. Her father, dressed in a black tuxedo, smiles at her affectionately. "Are you ready?" he asks, scrutinizing her face.
She looks down the aisle into Tristin's eyes. He can't take his eyes off of her. The intricate details-the decorations, people, music, everything-are lost on him. He sees only her face. Her knees weaken under his intense gaze. With great difficulty, she looks back at her father.
"Yes," she says, a joyous smile spreading over her face. "I'm finally ready."
***
She opens her eyes. Her mother is sitting on the coffee table Indian style, her chin propped up by her hands, staring at them. Rory jumps.
"Mom!" she hisses. "You almost gave me a heart attack."
"Then you'll appreciate how I felt this morning when I came down the stairs, thinking about a nice big cup of coffee, when hello! There's Rory and Tristin, drooling all over each other. Literally."
Rory sticks her tongue out. "What time is it?"
"It's getting pretty late. Better wake Sleeping Beauty over there. I've got to get to the Inn, and Luke's been at the diner for hours. I'll see you later!" She hops off the coffee table and disappears into the kitchen. She reappears a minute later with a travel mug in her hand. "I want details when I get home," she says, nodding toward Tristin, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Bye!"
Rory grins. Wake Sleeping Beauty? Okay, no problem. Only way to do that. She cranes her neck around. Carefully, she shifts her weight and faces him. With a wicked grin, she leans forward and kisses him gently, running her tongue over his lower lip. Then she settles back.
He wakes up immediately and looks at her suspiciously. "Did you just kiss me?" His voice is deep and rough from sleep.
Her face is all innocence. "Would I do that?"
He just stares at her.
She shrugs. "It works in the fairy tales."
He smirks. "So I'm Sleeping Beauty? Yeah, I think that's pretty accurate."
She smiles at him sweetly. "Too bad it didn't work."
"What are you talking about? I'm awake aren't I?"
"Yes," she pouts, "but you're still a frog."
He laughs out loud. "Come here, you." He pulls her onto his lap and begins to tickle her mercilessly.
She shrieks and tries to bolt.
The sound of their laughter carries well into the afternoon.
END
20/21