Connecticut Writers
Chapter 4 – Read a book, find what's missed
Disclaimer: I don't own GG or anything to do with it. I don't own any universities, books, authors, or movies either.
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews!! Here's the next chapter; and I'm working on chapter 5. Updates should be faster from now on, because I graduate on Wednesday. I'm really happy—and surprised—because I got an A on all my exams, except I still have one to be graded. Hopefully…lol. We also had a school track meet, and my team won…but it was close. Good luck to anyone else taking finals!! For future reference: To anyone from NY—I've been there, and I like it too; anything bad is because Jess didn't have a good life there and that part would be from his perspective. The story's Rory's POV though. Enjoy! ~Arianna
I woke up the next day and lay there for a while, still upset.
Stop it, I told myself. Crying won't help!
I finally got up and changed, deciding that I was not going to cry. Not at all. For the rest of the day. I wiped my eyes and made myself breakfast.
Then I proofread my essay, reviewed my notes, and reread Jane Eyre. I hung out in my apartment all day. And by ten that night, I still wasn't exactly happy. But at least I hadn't cried.
It took me a while to get back to that bookstore. But the monotony of my apartment got to me after too long. So I did end up back there. I kept wondering what Melanie would say.
I found out soon enough.
"Rory?" Melanie said as soon as I came in.
I gave her my best forced smile. "Hey, Mel."
She sighed. "I'm sorry for asking…are you okay?"
"I'm all right," I said.
"I guess you still miss him," she said sympathetically.
"Yeah, I miss him. Why didn't he tell me, damn it!" I yelled. "I'm sorry."
"No, that's okay." Mel looked away. "Hey, I think there's some stuff over there you'd be interested in." She pointed.
I tried to smile again. "Thanks." I went over to the section she had indicated and started looking through it. I did find some interesting stuff. I was trying to get my mind off my life. And then I found something.
It looked relatively new, unusual for this store. The cover looked like the surface of a lake, and in dark letters, it said: Talking on the Bridge.
I looked for the author's name.
J. A. Mariano.
I dropped the book.
Then, still in shock, I picked it back up and opened it slowly. I used to be the only one Jess would let read the stuff he'd written.
On the inside cover, the dedication: For Rory. If you find this, friends forever. –Jess
I felt my anger disappear; my eyes fill with tears. Jess…
I still wanted to know what had happened. We used to be so close. I wished we still were. I wanted to talk to him. Now.
I went back up to the desk, holding the book.
"You knew," I accused.
"I knew," Mel admitted.
"Is that why you told me to…"
"Not entirely."
"Okay." I waited. "So how much is this?"
"It's free."
"What?"
"Take it. I mean it."
"Mel…"
"C'mon, Rory."
I gave in. "See you later." She smiled, and I left, opening the book and starting to read.
I didn't notice when I lived there, but there are no good bridges in New York…I loved it instantly.
When I got back to my apartment, I got into my chair and continued reading. I finished it that afternoon.
It was definitely one of the best books I'd ever read.
I had to tell Jess.
But if I called him, he'd think…
I got an idea. And walked back to the bookstore.
"Mel?" I called.
"Rory?"
"Do you know where Jess lives?"
"Look in the book!"
"I did. It doesn't say." Because if it did, I could find him. Luke could find him. Mom could find him.
"I'll look," she replied, bending behind the desk to search for it. She came up, reluctantly holding something out to me. "I found it."
I tried and failed to smile at her. "Thanks, Mel."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"I know…"
"He wouldn't want you to give this away. I know. I don't care."
"Good luck," Melanie said softly.
"I hope…I won't need it." I left, gripping the paper tightly.
This is Jess, I told myself. Your best friend. He used to care about you…and he probably still does. He won't kick you out of his apartment. He owes you an explanation. You need to do this. You're not going to run away. You will start walking, now.
I looked at the paper again, reading the address. I knew where that was. I made myself start walking.
It took me about ten minutes to get there. I stepped up to the door, wanting to run away, back to my apartment. I was scared. But I took a deep breath and knocked softly.
I heard footsteps and tried to calm myself down. It didn't work.
The doorknob twisted. No. And then it opened. I shoved the book in my coat pocket so Jess wouldn't see it.
"Rory," he said.
"Jess…"
"You—you look cold…"
"Uh, yeah, I—I walked here." Don't be scared.
"Why?"
"You hung up on me."
"Damn, Rory—" He looked away. "I was crying, okay?"
"Okay." I stopped. "I was crying too."
He still didn't look at me. "I know."
"I thought you did…"
"So…you wanna come in?" Jess asked uncertainly.
"Okay." I followed him inside. I hated being so uncomfortable around him.
"Listen, Ror—I have a lot to tell you."
"Were you ever going to?" I stared at him.
He met my gaze squarely. "Yes. I was."
"I'm ready."
"Here, c'mon—" We went into a sort of living room, with shelves of books along the walls, a table, and two chairs. We both sat down. "This is—really hard," he told me.
"You know you can tell me anything."
"Yeah. Okay."
Jess waited, and then began.
"I told you I graduated college."
"You did."
He looked down again. "I was in New York, having a hard time with everything. It was really bad—"
"You never told me!" I said, scandalized. "Even when you were writing, you never told me."
"I didn't know how…and I didn't want to."
"Why does everybody want to protect me?" I yelled. "I'm twenty-four, Jess."
"I know. It wasn't that. I—I knew you'd feel sorry for me. I knew you'd want to come see me and say hi and talk."
I didn't reply. He was right.
"I didn't want you to come," he continued. "You'd hate it. Mostly, I hated it." Jess, why didn't you come back? "I applied to NYU, but I didn't want to go. I got an application to Columbia, I got in and I went. I have a degree in English Literature too."
"Jess," I interrupted, "you're leaving something out." And it must be something bad. "You stopped writing to me somewhere between New York and college applications!"
"Rory…"
"Jess…" I hesitated. "I read it."
"You read what?"
"I loved the book."
He stared at me. "You…"
"It couldn't be better! Jess—you should have told me."
"I…"
"I saw the dedication," I said softly. He didn't answer. I smiled slightly, thinking. Columbia…writing…and I knew he could do this.
I leaned forward and gave him a hug. "Jess, you wrote a book, you went to an Ivy League school…"
I know he was surprised. "Rory—"
"I'm really proud of you," I told him.
Jess hugged me back, and memories flashed through my head: Jess waiting for me at the bus stop, going to Chilton with me on my first day. Movie nights and throwing popcorn at each other, laughing and reading and listening to music. Jess comforting me when I broke up with Dean. Sitting on the bridge, promising we'd be friends forever.
We let go of each other.
"Hey…you can save the story if you want," I said.
He seemed relieved. "Okay."
"So we're both published writers."
"I guess we are."
"I told you that you were good."
"I missed you, Rory."
I looked away. "I missed you too." I glanced at Jess and could tell he was trying to get himself under control. I guess now he wouldn't cry in front of me.
"Will you call me?" I asked.
"Yeah, I will," Jess replied.
"Good." He would call. I had to believe that. I still had to know…I had to know.
