Note: I know I said The Way We Were would be a one-shot ficlet. Well ... I was wrong. Thanks to Jamie's inspirations (and endless "reminders"), I managed to churn out a sequel. You don't necessary have to read The Way We Were in order to enjoy this. Go, have fun. Oh yeah, please don't ask for updates. There will be no updates to this story!
Dedications: Jamie cuz she was the one who thought of it and without her, I won't be writing this. Reeka cuz she's my partner in crime and my super-beta. Everybody who reviewed last time cuz you're the reason why I'm writing this. ClownJon and ClownAl cuz they're the best damn TAR racers! EVER!
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Gilmore Girls and its colourful assortment of characters and dialogue.
if only you'd ever speak to me the
way you once did
look at me the way you once did
pull to me the way you once did
but you don't
you don't feel anymore
you don't care anymore
it's all gone
~The Cure
Tristan DuGrey never expected it to be this simple. He heard enough horror stories to keep him nervous. Everywhere he went, people warned him of messy legal procedures. So he was quite surprised when it went as smoothly as it did. That was it, no hidden clauses, no unreasonable request, and no residual emotions. All he had to do was sign his name over the dotted line and his marriage was officially over.
He pretended to give the document the attention it deserved. He hunched over it, analyzing every single line, pretending that each sentence contributed to messages that were more significant than they seemed. But none of the words registered with him. He knew this was the right thing to do and he would sign it no matter what it read.
He did not hesitate when he took his ink pen out of his pocket. The pen glided smoothly over the paper as his name slowly materialized on the document. The process took less than five seconds. In five seconds, he had effectively brought closure to his marriage.
Five minutes later, he walked out of his lawyer's office as a single man without the need to celebrate or cry.
Perhaps he could cultivate some sort of intense emotion had he loved her. But he didn't. The two of them were thrown together under dubious circumstances. They reluctantly tried to integrate into each other's lives, but the connection between them wavered between imperceptible and nonexistent. Attachment was never the correct description. Love was never the correct adjective.
They married not because of love, but because somebody else said so. They foolishly followed the whims of their parents. The outcome might've been different had they been married under a different set of reasons. It might've been different had they cared for each other in a deeper level.
They might've been happy.
For the first three months of his marriage, he tried convincing himself that he could learn to love her. Learn to appreciate her endearing qualities. Learn to exchange deep affections with her. But the truth caught up with him and he gave up on that novel idea. Somewhere along the way, she gave up on the idea as well.
The divorce seemed to be an inevitable conclusion to their marriage. When he suggested their separation, there were no tears. Only slow acceptance. She didn't ask him to stay, he didn't ask for forgiveness. The end to their relationship was as simple as that.
It could've been harder and messier if they had children. He was glad that they didn't drag an innocent bystander to their convoluted mess. There wouldn't be a person there to act as an awkward bridge for two incompatible people. Nobody was there to force an extra layer of interaction between them.
In hindsight, maybe they didn't have any children because they saw this coming.
He remembered when he told his family that he and Natalie were separated. They were barely surprised. His father, the architect of this marriage, seemed to see this coming when his eyes asked, "What took you guys this long?" His family went on with their lives, scarcely acknowledging the news. The only difference was that his aunt now introduced him as "my nephew who's recently single again."
The separation was a peaceful process. They were both independently wealthy enough to avoid lengthy legal battles over the ownership of some apartment. She moved back to her apartment and continued on with her life. For a short moment, he thought he had to fight back the sudden loneliness. But he continued on with his life. Barely noticing her absence.
His last chance of reconciliation came a couple days ago when she asked for his keys just so she could go up to his apartment. She wanted to pick up what's left of her things. He left his keys with the doorman before he went to work. Perhaps he was being a coward when he avoided the face-to-face encounter. But he didn't know what to say when he saw her.
All the words had been spoken. And he could offer no more.
When he came home from work, an extra post-it note was waiting for him on his dining table, telling him that Natalie had been here and she had picked up her stuff. He half expected to sense a stunning absence with her things gone. But he had to look very hard before he noticed that a few CDs were missing and the toilet seat was down. It seemed her ghostly presence had never made its mark on his life.
There was a strange lack of regret. He couldn't regret the marriage because he had no choice in the matter. He couldn't regret the divorce because he did put in an honest effort towards this fundamentally flawed relationship.
There were no regrets. There were broken promises … but no regrets.
If there was one regrettable sentiment out of this bloody mess of a marriage, it was for her.
Tristan took a left turn and headed for the park. The weather was especially gorgeous for this New York autumn and he didn't want to go home yet. The colorful foliage of the park provided serenity in the busy city and he instinctively looked for his favourite bench.
Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. Even the mere mention of her name tugged at his heartstrings.
He truly, truly missed her. He remembered her quick departure from his life. It was a sudden motion, devoid of fanfare or farewell. He never had the chance to say goodbye to her. He never had the chance to end their brief liaison properly.
Which was good. Because he didn't know if he could summon the courage to do it.
He met her in one of the darkest most depressing periods of his life. He had just gotten engaged against his vehement protests and he felt like his life was going to hell in a hand basket. Their enchanting encounter created the illusion that everything was all right. Her soothing voice reminded him of his adolescence when it was much simpler times.
There was this instant connection between them was they tried to recollect their youth. As he knew her better, he was ashamed to admit that he used to think of her as a conquest when he was younger. She was perfect for him. He chided himself as he wondered how could he be so blind when a person as perfect as Rory showed up in his life the first time.
He didn't make the same mistake as he did when he was sixteen. This time around, he grabbed hold of his second chance and never let go. He desperately wanted to be with her. He wanted to sweep her off her feet. He wanted to make her deliriously happy. He wanted to be with her.
He wanted to fall in love with her.
He was slow to admit it, but deep inside, he knew she would be the love of his life. The one irreplaceable person that he could never forget. The one person that made him complete.
A soulmate.
Unfortunately, he regretted that he could do little more than loving her. Nothing could come out of this affair and they both knew it. They drowned out their common senses as they waltzed to the sweet melody of a street performer. They shared moonlit kisses fearing that it could be their last kiss ever.
Their happiness was built upon a shaky foundation of ignorance. They knew time would run out sooner or latter. But he didn't expect it to be this soon
He was enthusiastically preparing the steak for their anniversary dinner, when the door to his apartment slammed shut. Suddenly, she was no longer in his living room. The loneliness overwhelmed him as he froze over the culprit, an upturned bridal magazine, trying to come in terms with a fact.
The fact that Rory Gilmore had exited from his life … again. The love of his life had left and he wasn't even there to cherish their last moment together.
He ran his hand through his tousled blond hair as waves of nostalgia and regret attacked him. He still remembered that day when he stood by the mailbox. His indecisiveness haunted him as he clutched the final wedding invitation that he needed to send out.
The invitation was for Rory. He knew it was cold and heartless to send her this. It would remind her of their time together and their abrupt breakup. Yet, at the same time, this beat running into her when him and Natalie were shopping in the local grocery store. Secretly, he hoped this would create the chance for them to properly say goodbye.
Even up to this date, he still wondered if he did the right thing.
He hadn't heard from her since. True, he did receive the RSVP card, telling him of her impending absence. But that was it. Strangely enough, they managed to miss out on each other despite the fact that they moved in similar social circles. She seemed to have entirely disappeared from his life.
He envisioned this long ago. He knew she wouldn't stay around. After all, they couldn't very well just shake hands and go back to being friends; desperately clinging to each other's company. Loving Rory seemed to be an all or nothing deal.
He took a deep breath to clear up his mind. His melancholy recollections seemed to have spiraled uncontrollably into guilt. What's done was done. It was too late to start doubting his actions. He tried to clear those thoughts away by paying attention to the delightful scenery. To his surprise, when he looked up, he found an unnervingly familiar figure sitting on the bench across from him.
He blinked a few times to confirmed that she wasn't a figment of his imagination. He made sure that he wasn't hallucinating. The person across him had an uncanny resemblance to Rory Gilmore.
To oblivious passersby, she looked elegantly casual in capris and ballerina flats with the sleeves of her crisp white shirt rolled up to her elbow. Her attention was concentrated onto a slim little book. This woman sitting across him could very well be Rory … or someone that looked very much like Rory.
Regardless of her identity, he silently observed her. Taking notice of the way she played with a loose piece of her hair. The way she licked her thumb before she turned the page. The way she tugged at her shirt every so often. These little endearing gestures slowly betrayed the true identity of this woman.
Serendipity had miraculously arranged for Rory to sit across him in Central Park in this afternoon. In this overpopulated city and after a lengthy interlude, he somehow managed to find her.
She probably sensed his intense stare because she chose this exact moment to look up from her book. The book immediately slipped out of her grasp when they made eye contact and landed on a bed of dried leaves. He glanced at the cover. She was reading The Little Prince. If the book didn't clue him in, her surprised expression certainly did. A mixture of awe, doubt, denial, and recognition crossed before her eyes.
She recognized him too. After all these years, she could still recognize him in a heartbeat.
They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Each waited for the other to make the first move. A million of chaotic thought processes bounced within their heads, but none of them seemed to formulate into coherent sentences. They both remained glued onto their benches, trying to recover from the shock of this sudden encounter.
He stood up when he finally collected his nerves and slowly walked towards her. He stood before her as she looked at him expectantly and intently, as if he was going to reveal the secrets of the universe to her. The silence continued. Just when he gathered enough courage to break the silence, he was interrupted by the rapid footsteps of a little girl running towards them.
The little girl had such vivacious energy that he couldn't help but grin at the way she approached them in such startling clip. Rory grinned at the little girl too, but it seemed for a different reason.
Suddenly, he was startle by the words that came out of her mouth. It immediately caused a revolting reaction in the pit of his stomach. A simple two syllable words that managed to banish all those previous chaotic thoughts.
The little girl screeched, "Mommy!" before she plopped into Rory's outstretched arms.
There was a split second of awkward silence as she gave him a look before she hugged her daughter. Her knotted eyebrows attempted to convey some sort of coded sentiment. Was she frustrated by her interruption? Was she being apologetic?
Was she mumbling goodbye?
Rory broke the eye contact when she swept up her daughter in a single fluid motion. And Tristan chose that moment to leave. He didn't want to be an intruder in their family moment. He didn't look back as he put more and more distance between the pair. She probably wouldn't be aware of his absence until he was long gone.
Good, because that's the way he wanted it to be.
Just like last time, there was an unforeseen interruption. Just like last time, they parted without proper goodbyes. Just like last time, one was too occupied to notice the other's departure. Just like last time, they disintegrated from each other's life.
But unlike last time, this was for good.