A/N~~HEY EVERYONE! First of all I think it is important that I apologize for the extremely long wait between chapters! I AM SO SO SORRY I just had a lot of things going on, from atheistic and sexist teachers who seem to take pleasure in dumping piles of homework on us to spring sports starting up to lots of personal issues that I don't care to post on the internet. But never fear! I am back and hopefully I will be updating regularly, though I can't promise anything because finals are looming closer and closer each passing day. Ok, now that that's out of the way I have a bone to pick. It really bothers me that someone out there has the gall to completely trash my story and not even leave their email address so I can respond. YOU COWARD! Are you afraid that I'll tear you apart because you ripped up my story? C'mon I'm not like that! I would much rather you tell me who you are so I can ask you why you hated my writing so much, then maybe I can improve on it so it doesn't 'suck, suck, suck' so bad.
And in response to 'Me Literati' actually YES I have seen the Gilmores put coffee in their sugar. In episode 2-20 (Help Wanted) and I quote . . .
LORELAI: How am I gonna fit my three sugars into Barbie's Malibu dream cup here? It'll be all sugar and no coffee.
RORY: You may prefer it that way.
Disclaimer ~ I still own nothing, I am poor, sue me if you want, it's a waste of your time.
Spoilers ~ OK THERE HAS BEEN A CHANGE!!!! The kiss at Sookie's wedding did take place! And everything has happened, accept that Rory and Jess never got together, but instead became closer friends because of it.
Shameless Plug ~ I REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK~!!! Especially of my story 'Invictus'!!! Does it suck or do you like it! Please R/R!!!
AND ON WITH THE SHOW . . . . .
Chapter Three : A Remembrance Of Things Past ~ (Rory POV)
Six duffle bags, five seats, seven people.
Not the greatest combination for a road trip, well, mini road trip actually. The drive would probably only total about an hour and a half, less if it weren't for the fact that we had to pick Lane up at the train station in Hartford, which was about thirty minutes out of our way.
I sighed sleepily as I shifted to try and get comfortable, and action that only succeeded in jamming me further into the door of Adair's Ford SUV.
I was now beginning to regret the decision to take this car instead of Nia's Suburban. At this point anything was better then being sandwiched between Claire and the window, even endless marathons of the bane of my existence, also known as pop music.
You see the rule is driver gets to control the music choice, and if we had taken Nia's car, it would have been her who was driving and subsequently we would have all been subjected to the American form of Japanese water torture, shrill voices that are just as maddening without the damp.
So we made a unanimous decision to cram into this five-seater, a choice that, by the endless shifting and sighing, I could tell we were all regretting.
It actually hadn't been that bad for a while, just minor cramping and no need for someone to be lying across the four people in the back seat, but that is until we had to squeeze Lane in.
She had just stopped when she saw the car outside the station and started laughing, her amusement escalating when the doors opened and she saw four people sitting in three seats, two of which had their duffle bags on their laps because they wouldn't fit in the trunk. Yet the second she realized she had to now sit like that the situation suddenly became less humorous.
So now here we are, seven people sitting in five seats, and I am currently resisting the temptation to bash my head through the window in an effort to knock myself out so I don't have to sit through the extreme discomfort for another second, a thought that was becoming more and more appealing as the lack of blood flow had caused my left leg to loose all feeling.
I was trying to shift to a more comfortable position when I became aware that someone was giggling.
I tried to look around to see who it was, but because of the fact that Lane (who had been lying across our laps) had her feet in my face and Heidi's duffle bag was jammed in next to me, I couldn't move, yet the laughter became louder and more giddy and I could soon tell who it was from the sound of her voice.
For some sudden, incomprehensible reason, Nia had burst out laughing. I could now see her head for the fact that she had doubled over and had her head in her lap.
"Nia!" I hissed, "What is wrong with you?" I was completely dumbfounded as to how this situation could, in any universe, be construed as funny.
"I hate you guys." Nia forced out through her insane laughter, words sharp and forced through gasping breath.
"We could all be sitting comfortably in my car, but because you retards can't stomach a little bubblegum music were squished into this friggin peapod of a car . . . I hate you people."
And she just kept on laughing hysterically as the rest of us continued to stare in disbelief at the scene of laughter that had been ripped out of one of those cheesy teenage comedies, before Lane began to giggle and then raised her hand and said, "I second that, God it feels like we should all be wearing big red noses and face paint, getting ready to be announced in the center ring. You're all crazy, even I could have dealt with the pointy haired high pitched boys of N'SYNC for an hour if it had meant not needing the Jaws of Life to get me out of this godforsaken sardine can."
She then lifted her hand to look at me, "What was going through your head when you helped in the decision to take this instead of Nia's car? Why did you not just take two cars? Or you could have asked prince charming to borrow his truck!" She said, still lost in a giddy haze of giggles.
I sighed as I leaned my head back and tried regain circulation in my foot (which was currently being flattened under my own bag) "It was ten of nine in the morning and the coffee machine picked today of all days to have a nervous breakdown and start hissing and spraying us with hot water. I was not in my right state of mind, you could have convinced me to do anything. Caffeine withdrawal is not a pretty thing, I wasn't in my right state of mind, Paris had to stop me from walking out of the door with my hair still in a towel."
Lane smiled again as she leaned back to put her head in Heidi's lap where it had been for the past twenty minutes, she suddenly turned thoughtful before she voiced an open question directed at my roommates, "Hey, are any of your boyfriends coming?"
I could almost hear Paris scowl from the front seat, "I don't have a boyfriend." She said curtly, and Lane shot me a questioning glance as if to say, 'What about Jaime?' I just grimaced at her and nodded my head.
Jaime had broken it off with Paris nearly three weeks ago, an action leading to one of the lengthiest tirades against the incompetence of the male sex that I have ever, or ever wish, to hear. And even though I shook my head violently and even went as far as to make those stupid slashing motions across my throat, Lane asked sympathetically, "Oh Paris that's too bad. What happened?"
I could almost feel Paris harden through the passenger seat in front of me as she responded coldly, "Nothing happened, I just realized that not all men can be a candid copy of Snow White's prince."
Thankfully, upon sensing that we were entering a danger zone, Adair abruptly changed the subject, placing all ears on me instead of Paris by saying, "And speaking of which, where is the prince Rory? I thought he was driving up with us also."
I was about to answer before Lane cut me off, "You were planning on cramming another person in this car? And a person who is by no means vertically challenged and is in fact frequently referred to as 'Paul Bunion' for height reasons? What, did you undergo some kind of mental scarring since the last time I saw you?" She inquired incredulously, a look of utter disbelief smeared all over her features.
I laughed a little as I chose my response, finally settling on "Actually no, no mental scarring, but apparently what they say is true, crack does render areas of the brain useless, obviously I was most effected in my brain's ability to judge depth and volume. Stay away from drugs kiddos." I replied sardonically before turning back to Adair's question, "He was planning on driving up with us, but his little brother or sister is due any day now and his dad is out of town, so he went home for a few days to take care of his mom. He said he should get back to Stars Hollow by Friday, Saturday at the latest."
It was then that the inevitable cooing began.
"Aww. Big Strong Dean going home to care for the family, that's adorable." Heidi said.
I smiled embarrassedly as I looked down at my hand; specifically the ring that ornamented my finger. A solitary square diamond, simple, but classy. Dean had always been just that, simple and classy. He was sweet though. I remember the night he proposed to me, the nervous look of anticipation glinting in his eye, the way he made sure everything was perfect before he popped the question in a traditional way, down on one knee in our favorite restaurant. It wasn't the proposal I had been picturing in my head, but it was perfect in its own way. And I said yes without a moment of hesitation; my mind and heart racing simultaneously, causing me to feel so light that I contemplated attempting to fly.
And it was due to my new found light mood that I restrained from committing either murder or suicide for the rest of the trip. It's funny how fantasizing about dresses and flowers, vows and tulle can distract a girl from the fact that her left leg is completely dead from lack of circulation. But alas, those thoughts are only good for distraction, a distraction that abruptly ended as I stepped out of the car in front of the diner and promptly collapsed to the ground as I tried to step forward.
I pushed myself back up onto my feet and shook my leg sourly, ignoring the torrents of laughter coming from my companions and the disapproving look from Paris.
"I'm glad you all liked the show, I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking and being the concerned friends I know and love." I remarked, but my mood was suddenly lighted by the screech from the diner door, yet I ended up on the ground again.
"Welcome home Lorelai Leigh Gilmore!" My mother shrieked as she streaked toward me and tackled my to the ground with an enormous hug.
"Mom!" I sighed exasperatedly, "I was here four days ago. It's not like I'm Jessica Lynch, there is no need for celebration."
She frowned at me, "Well go ahead and ruin my fun then." She said as she pulled herself off of the ground and helped me up after her. It was then that she caught sight of my friends trying to extricate themselves from the car and grinned at me, "Oh Rory, you shouldn't have, really. I told you this wedding is going to be small and simple, no need for a reunion of the Ramones minus Joey, a coffee fountain, or the ever popular magical Volkswagen with clowns act. I thought I made this clear"
"Yeah, well, you only get married once, theoretically, and you should have the best mommy dearest." I retorted as I helped Lane squeeze out without and major injuries. Mom laughed slightly and welcomed them all with a smile, "Hey you guys!" She said happily, "Glad you could join us! You can put all of your stuff in the apartment above the diner, I had Luke clean it up for you guys and we put in some air mattresses because there are only two beds and a pullout up there right now, but the sheets are clean and the mice are friendly, unless provoked of course." She smiled widely again as she helped all of us carry the bags through the diner and up the narrow staircase.
"Ok," She said "Here we are." And she proceeded to drop everything in the middle of the floor and turned around to give us more instruction. "Alright, you can figure out the sleeping arrangements yourself, but Paris, Lane, and Rory need to be unpacked and downstairs five minutes ago so we can get to the dress shop. You all are welcome to join us, but in case you don't want to then you can explore the town. Just ask my fiancée Luke if you need something to do, I'm sure he'll be willing to put you to work. Oh, and for those of you who haven't met him, just look for the flannel version of The Unabomber minus the explosive mail, plus some scruff and a backwards baseball cap that seems to be permanently fused to his head." She called as she crashed down the stairs.
"So, who is sleeping where?" asked Heidi, looking at me questioningly.
It was then that I paused to take a full look at the apartment, it had been so long since I had seen it, and even longer since I'd seen it clean. Once Luke had moved in with mom they used his apartment as storage, whenever I had been here there were always boxes strewn about and things shoved in haphazardly. Now however, everything was clean and tidy. The floor and counters were visible, and all of the furniture seemed to be in the exact position it had been the day I last saw it like this, the day before I left for Yale. My eyes drifted slowly over the chairs and table, into Luke's old room and the double bed Luke had abruptly purchased shortly after he and mom had gone apartment shopping once, and then into the room to the left of the main room. That room seemed to be the neatest, the bed was the same single as always with the same sheets and comforter, the wardrobe was almost empty save for a few forgotten shirts and a pair of sweatpants, a shelf held a number of old books that had also been left behind, and the light on the bedside table was switched on, producing a soft iridescent glow.
This had been Jess' room.
Then my mouth was speaking, though without instruction from my brain. "I'll take this bed." I said softly, and motioned toward the single that had belonged to my friend from so long ago.
Everyone nodded and began to bustle about, claiming beds and unpacking clothes.
I, however, was lost in a trip down the haze of memory lane. I had walked over to his bed and dropped my duffle, and then proceeded to look over his books, my fingers running along their spines. I smiled to myself as I came across a dusty copy of The Fountainhead and a picture of a lunch on a bridge flew to mind. It had always been so strange with Jess. We had always shared this intense bond, one that I usually don't care to describe because it's hard for me to find a way to actually put our connection into words, all I can say is that it was special, and it was deep. I honestly can't depict it further then that, other then it seemed virtually unbreakable and almost always platonic, and on a more outward level we had always connected through our literature and music.
We had kissed once also, but for some reason it didn't interrupt our friendship. We dismissed it as a temporary lapse of judgment while I had been on hiatus with Dean, and continued to be just friends. Although I do remember how different that kiss had been. Not different in a bad way at all, actually completely the opposite, because for those few seconds I remember feeling completely alive. But I also remember the weight of guilt that had spread over me when it was over, because I was in love with Dean, and that horrible feeling stamped out anything that sparked inside of me as a result of that kiss.
After that incident I remember spending countless hours in this very room just sitting quietly and reading or listening to music together. Yet nothing was ever really the same, because I could never look at him the same way. Before I kissed him he had been Jess - my friend who was always so complex but to me so simple, but after it was Jess - this overwhelming paradox of emotion who was in many ways attractive.
As I look back I guess I had always been attracted to Jess, and I knew that he had always felt the same way, but we never acted on it apart from that one time, and instead just allowed for a beautiful friendship to blossom from the feelings that bubbled inside.
Yet not all good things can last, and Jess, while extraordinarily smart, was never the bookworm and refused to graduate high school, so Luke sent him away to live with his dad. We had lost touch then, and I hadn't seen him in nearly four years.
I sighed at that last memory, and allowed my inner movie screen to play back our final moments together and last words to each other, spoken just before he climbed on to the bus to the airport.
"I'll miss you." I said softly, smiling awkwardly as I said it, my eyes flicking constantly from the ground to his face and back again.
"I know." He replied, his mouth curving upward in a small smirk as he sighed deeply, his own eyes never leaving my face as he spoke in his steady and confident voice. "I'll miss you too."
"But you will write, or call, won't you?" I asked, succumbing to an odd childish demeanor that longed for something to hold on to.
"Yea, I will." He reassured me, his discomfort with goodbyes painfully obvious in his slouched stance.
Here a hush overtook us and I glanced around at the town center, allowing my eyes to roam over the trees and benches that had been shadowed by the dusk that was fast approaching. For a few moments we sat quietly, just enjoying the silence that enveloped our encounter, but I finally looked up when I heard a slow grinding in the distance. Immediately my eyes found the gleaming yellow circles of the headlights on his bus, their two lonely rays fighting through the mist that hazed the streets after an afternoon rainstorm.
"So, I guess I'll be seeing you." I said softly, though I knew somewhere within that those words were not to be the truth of the matter. He nodded his head a little, and glanced up at the fast approaching headlights. Both of us were dreading that bus, because neither wanted to let go of the relationship that had formed over the two years we had been so close, and so neither he nor I allowed 'goodbye' to slip out.
I looked at the headlights as they drew near and willed them to stay away, but they did come, and I became aware of Jess leaning down and picking up his suitcase.
As he looked at me one final time before boarding, I was seized by this sudden impulse, and I laced my arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.
He stumbled a bit, seemingly surprised at the sudden contact, but soon he allowed himself to respond, and held me for a few precious moments as I tried to muster the strength to let go while at the same time trying to hold on to the memory of our friendship.
We did finally part, and he threw his duffle into the baggage compartment beneath the seats, and looked at me for one last second before he smiled nonchalantly. "Don't look so sad Rory, I'm not dying. This won't be the last time you see me, I promise you, you won't get off that easy." And our smiles widened together before he climbed on to the Greyhound and into his seat.
I remember waving at him through the window, and him smiling sadly back before the bus groaned into gear and pulled away.
I smiled again at the memory of him. It was one I used to visit often, but through the years have thought about less and less. Yet being back here in his room brings everything rushing back, from the smiles and the comfortable silence, to the unspoken feelings, and as I gazed at his things I smiled widely. For some inexplicable reason I felt like something big was about to happen. That cliché twist that always factors into a wedding of any sorts was soon to befall us, and for some reason I was extraordinarily excited.
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A/N ~ As always, please review! And PLEASE read my other stories! I need to know what you think so I can stop writing if you think I suck! And also, please, if you hated my story please give me some advice on how to improve instead of completely slamming me.
