Chapter One: Rory
Stars Hollow, the Present.
"Rory?" Mom was talking to me. I should answer. "Rory?"
"Huh?"
"Do you want to go home? You don't have to stay for this."
"What? Um . . ." I said.
"I could take her home," Luke said.
"No, you don't have to. We came in my car," my mom answered.
"It's fine. I could drive back here --"
"All the way back?" she argued.
"Guys?" I said. "Um, guys?"
"Honey, do you want to stay? You can go home if you want to," Mom said.
"Lorelai, it's no problem," Luke said.
They kept talking. Yammering and arguing and asking me questions that I couldn't think of an answer to. I didn't know if I was supposed to be a kid and go home or be a grownup and wait in the hospital with the rest of the grownups. My grandfather had another heart attack or something, and he's in surgery, and we're waiting out here, and grandma picked me up from school and drove me here, and she's been crying, and Mom's been crying, and I didn't even change out of my school uniform or anything, and I've just been sitting here waiting and no one's telling me anything, and they keep asking me questions --
"I don't know!" I yelled.
Everything stopped. God, what a horrible thing to do. They didn't need me freaking out on top of everything else. The three grownups before me, Mom, Grandma, and Luke, all looked at each other liked I was Crazy Cousin Gertie.
"How 'bout a walk?" Luke said. I shrugged. "C'mon, we'll go walk," he said.
"Let me take your schoolbag, sweets," Mom said. I hadn't noticed that I still had it on my back.
With his fingertips brushing my shoulder blades, Luke led me down the hall. I watched the carpet disappear below my feet: pink in the middle, grey runners on the edges. How Ringwaldian.
"Are you hungry?" Luke asked.
I shrugged. "Not really."
"Coffee? I think I saw a machine . . ."
I glanced up at him. "Thanks, but I'm okay. I don't think I want to leave. . . . Am I supposed to stay or leave?"
"I don't think you're 'supposed to' do anything."
"What if he dies and I'm not here?" Luke stared straight ahead. "This really really sucks."
"Yeah, it does."
"But I should probably stay."
"If you want to."
We continued walking.
"Why are you here?" I asked, then realized how it sounded. "I mean, not that I'm not glad you're here, because I totally am. I'm just wondering."
"Same as last time -- um, your mom was in the diner when your grandmother called. I just," I translated his vague arm as a shrug, "came along."
"Oh."
I stared at the walls as we passed them: kids' drawings, plans for a new wing, plaques with names of people who bought stuff for the hospital. We whooshed by before I could look for the name 'Gilmore.' I decided I liked watching the carpet instead of the walls. As we moved through the massive Hartford Memorial Hospital, pink became green, then tan, then pink again. The circle of life, in Berber.
"Hey, look where we are," Luke said suddenly, obviously for my benefit. I looked where he was pointing. A pink sign read, 'Maternity'.
"Oh."
"You want to find the nursery?" he asked.
"Are we allowed?"
"Dunno."
I didn't see any signs anywhere that said otherwise. "Um. Sure." I was having a hard time caring about anything, but it seemed preferable to have a destination. "I've never seen a nursery for real, like, not on t.v."
"I've only been to the one."
"When?"
"When Jess was born."
The thought of a mini-Jess in diapers was amusing enough to elevate my mood a notch for a whole thirty seconds. We followed the signs until the wall opened up to a picture window. Curious, I peeked inside. Rows of plastic bassinets, containing tiny swaddles with scrunched-up, oddly-colored faces, topped with knit caps: pink for girls, blue for boys. Just like on t.v.
"They're so tiny," I breathed.
Some of them slept cozily in little sleepers; others pumped their arms and legs. There didn't seem to be any sick or premature ones. Did I come on a lucky day, or did they keep the sick ones somewhere else?
"You really like my mom, huh?" I said without thinking.
"We're friends," he said.
"You do so much for us."
"She's my friend."
"You want to have, like, ten-thousand of her babies."
"What?"
Oops. Did I say that aloud? "Nothing. Kidding. That line's from a movie."
"Oh."
A woman in cartoon-patterned scrubs picked up a squalling infant and carried it to some doohickey at the back of the room.
"My grandfather's really sick."
"He's going to be fine. It's just a . . . it's just an operation."
I knew Luke was being nice; I didn't want to bicker. I slipped my arm through his like a Victorian couple courting and leaned my head against his arm. I kind of wished for my dad, except didn't. It was weird . . . I couldn't imagine just standing looking at babies with Dad.
"Did you know me when I was little?" I asked him.
"Yup. Didn't your mom tell you that?"
"Can't remember."
"I met you when I came over to fix your mom's sink. I could hear you screaming from half a block away."
My reflection smiled. "How old was I?"
"I don't know. A baby."
I attempted to conjure an image of teenage Lorelai and teenage Luke, standing in a room with a baby, but couldn't quite get it right.
"Did you hold me?"
"Mmhmm."
"Then? I mean, that first time you met me?"
"Yep. After I fixed the pipes, your mom made me stay for lunch."
"Mom cooked then?"
"Yeah right. I had to tell her to drain the tuna before you take it out of the can."
I giggled. That sounded deliciously like Mom.
"What did I do?"
"Nothing much, just stared at me. And I stared back, because I didn't know what else to do with you. Well, you did do something interesting."
"What?"
"You spit up pureed green beans all over my shirt."
"No way!" The bubble of laughter in my chest caught me utterly by surprise.
"It was like The Exorcist. We had to call a priest," he said with mock-annoyance.
I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. It wasn't even that funny, but tears leaked out of my eyes.
When I recovered, I said, "We should go back."
"We don't have to. If you want, we can walk around some more or something."
"No, I'm okay." We turned to go. "We should get my mom and Grandma dinner," I said.
"They may not be hungry."
"Mom's always hungry." I shrugged. "I think I should do something."
Luke looked down at me with concern, and I expected him to say something different than, "Sure. Let's go."
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