A/N: I stated in Chapter 3 that A Confederacy of Dunces was the only book
written by John Kennedy Toole. I've just discovered that is not true.
It's an incredible story. . . Toole committed suicide in his early 30s.
After his death, his mother found the original manuscript for A Confederacy
of Dunces and took it to Walker Percy (incidentally, my ex-boyfriend's
favorite author) at Tulane University. Percy read it, loved it, and
assisted in its posthumous publishing. The book won the Pulitzer prize,
deservedly so. . . it's that good. After the success of Confederacy, his
family found a second manuscript among Toole's possessions (this is the
part I didn't know). It was a novella that he had written at 16-years of
age for a writing contest. The family fought over the ownership of the
second manuscript, which was disputed in court for more than 30 years!
Ultimately, the court case was decided and the novella was published. I
haven't read it but I wanted to mention my error. I'm writing to Jess and
Rory right now to tell them too! Won't they be thrilled?
Also, I've changed the category on this from angst/romance to drama/romance. It's not turning out to be as angst-y as I originally envisioned. Let's just chalk that up to YOUR feedback, which by the way is WONDERFUL! I can't even tell you how much I love hearing from you. To me, there is no such thing as a "bad" review. Seriously, I take criticism extremely well. Just ask Pretty Words Like Blades! LOL. Speaking of, shout outs to:
Pretty Words Like Blades - Wow. Now, that is feedback! I'm honored you put such thought into helping me improve my writing skills. Thank you!
Someone - I tried to email you to ease your literati mind but got a bounce. Clean out your yahoo mail account!
Me (my anonymous Tolkien fan reviewer) - You are absolutely right. I stand before you chagrined. FYI . . . Your feedback sparked idea that I needed to stage this chapter. Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to you. (Feel free to sign in next time 'cause I mean it when I say that critical reviews don't offend me!)
. . .
* * * * * * * *
. . .
Rory walks in the front door of her house, feeling happy, weightless. She suppresses the urge to giggle like an 11-year old. She hears his voice in her head, 'Actually, yours sounds pretty good. Mind if I share it?' A simple question asked beautifully. It had stolen her breath. A vision of his face at that moment - un-sarcastic, direct, almost vulnerable, floats in front of her. It felt like a moment with the real Jess. It felt like a gift. His voice echoes again in her head, 'Mind if I share it?' It was the most amazing thing anyone had ever said to her. Even Dean, romantic and sweet, had never said anything that left her feeling so giddy, so awake.
Dean.
She groans. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she moves her hand to cover them. 'DEAN is my boyfriend,' she reminds herself.
'Dean IS my boyfriend.'
'Dean is MY boyfriend.'
'Dean is my BOYFRIEND.'
Idly, her hand moves to her forehead where she fingers her bruise, the physical reminder of her first real conversation with Jess in months. Removing her hand, she studies herself in the hallway mirror.
'Hi, my name is Rory and I'm a denial-holic.'
Rolling her eyes, she walks into her bedroom, dropping her backpack and flopping on her bed. She tries to imagine Dean in her heaven, placing him next to her in heaven's library. The vision is laughable and she almost would if it weren't so completely un-funny. There is Dean in her heaven, 'and all he does is slouch in a chair and ask me if I'm ready to go every five minutes,' she envisions. 'That's really going to get on my nerves.'
The bigger problem is that she just can't seem to pull Jess out of the picture. He lounges casually in a chair, reading a John Fante novel. She tries to erase him but he pops up again, wandering in Classical Philosophy. She removes him from the stacks but he saunters back in, offering her a biography he's found on Wendy O. Williams. Taking it, she tells his image to go away. Obediently, he vanishes but reappears at a Langston Hughes poetry reading. Like the card catalog or the Dewey Decimal System, Jess is a permanent fixture in heaven's library.
Equally as troubling, she can't picture Jess and Dean in the same heavenly room. It's ridiculous. 'This is my mind,' she stubbornly resolves, 'I can picture them in a room together if I want to.'
'Well,' answers her subconscious, 'You'd have to actually want both of them there.'
'Shut up,' she tells her subconscious.
It's ironic. She can't imagine her heaven with Dean and can't imagine it without Jess.
Not for the first time, she finds herself at a loss for a solution. Slowly, the germ of an idea creeps into her mind like a cloud, vaporous and shifting, it takes solid shape. 'It's worth a shot,' Rory thinks, sitting up. She walks over to her bookshelf and searches the titles. Finding what she's looking for, she pulls it off the shelf and wanders into the living room. She plops the heavy book down on the coffee table where it hits with a commanding 'thunk.' The porcelain figurines on the fireplace mantle rattle slightly before stilling. Pleased with herself, Rory walks back into her bedroom to begin studying.
As she opens her calculus textbook, a random thought skitters across her brain 'Heaven's library has great chairs.'
Several hours have passed in which time Rory has completed her calculus homework and moved on to a paper assigned for her American History class. Her analysis of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution is interrupted by the ringing phone.
"Hello?" Rory answers.
"Ethel? It's Lucy," says a familiar voice
"Hi mom," Rory smiles.
"I'm completely stuck here. Two of Sookie's assistant chefs were riding into work together and got in some sort of car accident. Until they finish with the police, I'm sticking around to help her."
"Umm. . . is that a good idea?" Rory asks suddenly concerned.
"What?"
"Well, define 'help her'."
"Oh. . . Stand in the kitchen, keeping at least 5 feet between me and anything that resembles food, while I prevent Sookie from killing herself and everyone else unfortunate enough to get near her while she's in this mood."
"That's a very appropriate use for your skills," Rory says exhaling.
"Isn't it? Although if she needs me to stir something, I could probably do that."
"Mom-"
"Right. Sorry. Slipped into another dimension there for a minute but I'm back now."
"That was a fast trip," Rory teases.
"Jet lag from dimensional crossings is brutal but I'll survive. Anyways, don't wait on me for dinner because I may be here for awhile."
"Dean is coming over soon," Rory tells her, glancing at the clock. "We'll just order a pizza or something."
"Well, there you go," says Lorelai sounding happy. "Have fun, babe."
"You too," Rory says hanging up the phone. She returns to her studies until she hears a knock on the door.
She is not surprised to find Dean standing on the porch, holding a video.
"Hi," Rory greets him, opening the door for him to enter. Her chest tightens involuntarily.
"Hey," Dean says, smiling as he comes in. "How's your head?"
"Oh, fine," she says dismissively as he leans down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. Rory, uncomfortable, accepts the kiss and immediately turns away to lead him into the living room.
"What movie did you bring?" she asks, hoping she already knows the answer.
"Fellowship of the Rings."
Rory smiles widely.
"Perfect!" she chirps.
"Hmm," Dean replies. He smiles and knits his eyebrows together, "That's not exactly the reaction I expected."
Rory walks to the coffee table and picks up the large book she placed there earlier. Still grinning, she hands it to him.
"Lord of the Rings, by J. R. R. Tolkien," Dean says, reading its cover. He shoots Rory a curious glance.
"I thought since you like the movies so much, you'd enjoy the book," she states hopefully, excitedly. "It's much better than the movie."
"It's 1,137 pages long," he tells her, flipping to the last page.
"You don't have to read all the appendices."
"OK, It's. . ." he pauses, searching for the end of the final chapter, "1,008 pages."
"Yeah, but you won't even notice. It's so good, the pages fly by."
Skeptical, he shakes his head and tries to hand the book back to her. "Reading's not really my thing," he says apologetically.
"Just try it!" she pleads. "I think you'll really like it."
"I already know what happens. I've seen the movies. This one," he gestures to the video he brought, "and The Two Towers. I don't need to read the book."
"No, it's different. Peter Jackson changed things. The basic plot is intact but enough alterations were made that anyone who has read the trilogy would notice it's not a pure interpretation of Middle Earth. Story lines were omitted, new scenes were added and. . . I can't figure out why. I sat in the theatre thinking, 'where did that come from?' In my opinion, the story didn't need to be changed. Seriously, did Jackson think he could improve on Tolkien?"
"I thought the movies were awesome."
"Yeah, but the book is better," she entreats becoming desperate. "Tom Bombadil wasn't included in Fellowship of the Rings but Frodo almost gives the ring to him for safe keeping. Tom Bombadil is the spirit of the Old Forest in the same way that Treebeard is the spirit of Fangorn. Treebeard! There's another character who was altered. Treebeard is the oldest living creature and he's incredibly wise. When we meets Merry and Pippin, they tell him Gandalf is dead but Treebeard looks at them oddly because he has a bond with the earth and he hasn't felt Gandalf's death. He knows it isn't true. In the movie, Treebeard was like some big dumb sequoia. I just hated that-"
"Rory-"
"Oh, speaking of the Ents, they already know that Saruman had been destroying the trees. The movie shows them surprised when they arrive at Isengard and find it a vast wasteland, but they already knew. That's why they were mad enough to get involved in the first place. Not to mention that the Hurons, bewitched trees that were critical in the battle of Helm's Deep, never even made an appearance."
"I just-"
"Don't even get me started on the way the movies totally play down Aragorn's legacy as the rightful King of Gondor. The sword he carries is THE sword that slew Sauron. That's huge! My favorite scene in the book, which annoyingly got changed in the movie, is when Aragorn and company meet the Riders of the Riddermark and Eomer challenges them. Aragorn throws back his cape, unsheathes his sword, and says 'I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur Elendil's heir, the rightful king of Gondor. Here is the sword that brought down Sauron. Let me pass!' Well. . . he says something like that. . . you get the idea. He reveals himself and even Legolas and Gimli are awed-"
"Rory! Stop!" Dean interrupts her rant.
Startled, Rory bites her lower lip and looks at her feet. When she finally looks up to meet his eyes, he sees the defeated sadness in them. During her animated attempt at persuasion, a stay tendril of hair has come loose. His hand moves as if to tuck it behind her ear, but before she can stop herself, she backs away out of his reach. Quietly, she tucks the strand away herself. He looks puzzled but lets the moment pass without remark.
"I don't enjoy reading," he explains. "At least, not the same way you do. I'd never read a 1,000-page book about a movie I've already seen. It's just not my idea of fun."
"But Faramir is valiant," she implores in a small voice. Feeling the illusion that she can make Dean be the person she needs begin to slip through her fingers, she presses, "He's different from Boromir - Faramir never even considered taking the ring from Frodo. Just like Arwen never considered leaving Aragorn. Never."
"It's OK. To me, the movies are still good. I don't care about the changes," he tells her placing the Tolkien tome back on the coffee table.
Rory looks at him and feels her heart begin to break.
"Dean, sit with me for a minute," she says pulling him onto the couch next to her. Her eyes cast about the room as if it contains a hint or suggestion of how she can make him understand what she needs to tell him next. She thinks about Jess and their conversation on the bridge. She looks back up at Dean.
"Rory?" he questions, his eyes growing concerned. "Is something wrong?"
'He's so sweet' she thinks as she feels herself start to waiver. From the dark recesses of her mind a quote whispers to her, 'Screw your courage to the sticking-place.' She is momentarily distracted by the oddness of Lady MacBeth providing her with help during her moment of indecision.
"Uh. . . Rory?"
'Screw your courage to the sticking-place,' the voice commands.
"Dean, what's your heaven like?" she asks, curious.
"My heaven? What do you mean?"
"When you picture heaven, what do you see?"
"I dunno," he says puzzled. "Clouds, angels with harps. . ."
"No. I mean, if you could create your own heaven, custom tailored so it's perfect for you, what would it be like?"
"Hmm. . ." he ponders the question. A smile breaks out on his face and he says "All sports, all the time!"
Rory sighs.
"It would have a regulation basketball court bordered by an Olympic-sized pool on one side and a football field on the other. The football field needs to be surrounded by a track ring. Oh, I'll need a hockey rink and a climbing wall. I also want a locker room with free weights, a sauna, whirlpool. . . the works."
"Of course."
"And my house will be full of wide screen TVs so I can keep track of all my favorite teams. My heaven gets cable." he informs her grinning.
Her heart breaks fully in two. 'He was the world's most amazing first boyfriend,' she thinks.
As Dean notices the look on Rory's face, his smile begins to fade. He leans closer to her. "Rory, please tell me what's wrong with you," he implores.
"I'm going to miss you, Dean," she says simply, without prelude.
Her words smart like a burn and he recoils.
"What do you mean 'you'll miss me'? Are you going somewhere?" he questions, hoping he has misread the look on her face, the signs of goodbye in her eyes.
"I can't do this anymore," she says simply.
"Rory. . ."
"It's better this way. You deserve someone who will appreciate all the wonderful things about you."
"Oh my God," he says realization hitting him like a truck. "You're breaking up with me." His blood freezes, his chest burns. He can taste disbelief on his tongue, in his mouth. It tastes bitter.
"I wish there was a way to make you understand."
"You're breaking up with me because of a book?" he asks incredulously, his eyes falling on The Lord of the Ring.
"No," she tries to explain. "I'm breaking up with you because we're too different. We want different things. We'll never be able to make each other happy. I mean, truly happy."
"This is crazy. I've tried to make you happy. I care about you, Rory."
"I know," she answers, her eyes beginning to tear.
"I'll read the damn book."
"It's not that simple."
"Well then please explain it to me because I'm at a loss."
"Things have been going bad for a long, long time. You've grown jealous and I'm tired of defending myself, walking on eggshells. You're always mad. I'm always worried. Every time we're together, it's a compromise for one of us because our interests are completely divergent."
"This is about Jess isn't it?" he asks standing up. His voice is hard, his fists, clenched.
"No, it's about us."
"Tell me the truth for once, Rory. You want to be with Jess."
"Don't twist this - it's not about Jess. It's about you and me. We're wrong for each other. Jess or no Jess, you and I don't work. We just don't. I am not the person you think I am. I'm not the one for you. In your heart, you know I'm right."
"Being right is overrated," Dean answers sharply. Angry and frustrated, he walks across the living room. "He'll never love you like I do, Rory."
"Don't go there," she warns, following him to the door.
"And I do, you know," he says faltering as he reaches for the door knob. "Love you, I mean."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Then don't do this," he implores.
"I should have done it months ago. I. . . It's not. . ." Stumbling over words she doesn't really want to say, she looks in his eyes and the truth, denied for so long, tumbles out. "I don't love you, Dean. Not the way you need me to."
He turns on his heel and walks out the door without another word or backward glance. Rory watches him walk down her porch stairs and across the yard. The tears she had held back begin to stream down her face.
"Bye, Dean," she whispers.
Numb and hurting, Rory makes her way to her bedroom. Crawling onto her bed, she lies on her side and curls into a tight, tiny ball. Her tears flow unchecked, unabated. As guilt washes over her, Rory loses track of time.
"I'm home," Lorelai's voice announces as if the crashing sound made by her entrance isn't announcement enough.
"Please tell me there's some of that pizza leftover," she says walking into the kitchen. Seeing no sign of pizza, or anything else for that matter, she wanders into the living room.
"Rory?" Lorelai calls. "You here? Rory, where are you?"
Peeking her head into Rory's room, she spies her daughter still lying in a fetal position on her bed.
"Rory?" Lorelai says softly, walking into the room. "Are you OK?"
"Oh, mom," Rory chokes sitting up and holding out her arms.
Lorelai immediately goes to her, sitting on Rory's bed and wrapping her in an embrace. Fresh tears slip from Rory's eyes and spill onto Lorelai's shoulder. Lorelai smoothes her hair and makes comforting noises while Rory sobs.
At length, Lorelai says, "Honey, what happened? Can you talk about it yet?"
Sniffing and wiping her eyes, Rory moves out of her mother's embrace and sits back slightly.
"I broke up with Dean."
"Oh."
"I took the heart of a perfectly good boyfriend and I crushed it like a grape."
"Oh, sweetie."
"I think something is fundamentally wrong with me. Why couldn't I love him? I mean, in that love-love way. He wanted me to so badly, but I just didn't."
"Nothing is wrong with you, honey. You can't help how you feel. Love can't be forced, it just happens or it. . . doesn't. Trust me on this one."
"I tried so hard to love him, mom," Rory says forlornly. "I kept waiting to feel like he was something other than my brother or my puppy."
"A mighty big puppy," Lorelai smiles.
"It's not funny," Rory insists, starting to smile.
"More like a pet giraffe."
"Stop it," Rory commands starting to laugh, wiping her eyes. "Stop making me feel better. I don't want to feel better. I want to feel terrible and think sad thoughts. I don't deserve to feel better. I deserve to walk through life alone and unloved for tormenting the world's most perfect boyfriend."
"You're being awfully hard on yourself."
"I'm a terrible evil person."
"You're definitely not evil. And what you deserve is someone who thinks you're amazing, because you are. You deserve to feel the exact same way about someone else. When it finally happens for you, and that's 'when', not 'if', it's going to be incredible."
Rory looks at her skeptically.
"I tell you the truth, child. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you," Lorelai says reassuringly.
"Why didn't I love him then?"
"Because you didn't."
"But I should have."
"But you didn't."
"I really really wanted to."
"I know. Love doesn't work that way."
"Maybe it's a fever. Maybe I should see a doctor."
"I think it's nothing that Ben & Jerry's Super Fudge Chunk won't cure. Well, that and time."
"Time. Ugh. This is going to suck," Rory groans, falling backwards on the bed.
"Which is why we need the ice cream. It decreases the suck factor."
Rory smiles weakly as Lorelai stands to go to the kitchen. At Rory's bedroom door, she turns back.
"Sometimes, doing the right thing means doing the hard thing. Breaking up with Dean was in the category of hard. . . like running a marathon while carrying a teaspoon of water that you're not allowed to spill hard. But you know what? You did it."
"Yeah, I did," sniffs Rory.
"I'm proud of you, babe."
"You mean that?" Rory whispers.
"Don't ever doubt it," Lorelai states, smiling warmly at her daughter.
Returning with the ice cream carton and two spoons, Lorelai hands one to Rory.
"About Jess. . ." Lorelai begins as she digs into the ice cream.
"Please mom. Don't," Rory responds, her mouth full.
"I was going to say. . . give that some time too. Processing Emotion A before leaping into Emotion B is generally a good idea. Not that I've ever done it myself but I hear it's the way to go."
"Recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists?"
"Them too. And. . . by Emotion A, I mean how you feel about the breakup with Dean. Emotion B is how you feel about Jess."
"Yeah, I figured. I appreciate the clarification anyway though."
"Oh, anytime."
They eat ice cream in companionable silence.
"We're going to need coffee too," Rory realizes.
"I started a pot brewing when I got the ice cream," Lorelai grins.
"Good thinking," Rory smiles back.
They are silent, one lost in thoughts about how something has ended; the other, older and wiser, recognizing that tonight, in fact, something has begun.
* * * * * * *
A/N: And he's going, going, gone. . . say goodbye to Dean everyone! That was a kinder gentler breakup scene than the one I originally envisioned where he gets abducted by aliens. Fear not, literati junkies. . . there is definite Rory and Jess action in the future of this fic but please be patient while I work my way there. Reviews make me write faster. Seriously, it's a weird phenomenon. Thanks all!
Also, I've changed the category on this from angst/romance to drama/romance. It's not turning out to be as angst-y as I originally envisioned. Let's just chalk that up to YOUR feedback, which by the way is WONDERFUL! I can't even tell you how much I love hearing from you. To me, there is no such thing as a "bad" review. Seriously, I take criticism extremely well. Just ask Pretty Words Like Blades! LOL. Speaking of, shout outs to:
Pretty Words Like Blades - Wow. Now, that is feedback! I'm honored you put such thought into helping me improve my writing skills. Thank you!
Someone - I tried to email you to ease your literati mind but got a bounce. Clean out your yahoo mail account!
Me (my anonymous Tolkien fan reviewer) - You are absolutely right. I stand before you chagrined. FYI . . . Your feedback sparked idea that I needed to stage this chapter. Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to you. (Feel free to sign in next time 'cause I mean it when I say that critical reviews don't offend me!)
. . .
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. . .
Rory walks in the front door of her house, feeling happy, weightless. She suppresses the urge to giggle like an 11-year old. She hears his voice in her head, 'Actually, yours sounds pretty good. Mind if I share it?' A simple question asked beautifully. It had stolen her breath. A vision of his face at that moment - un-sarcastic, direct, almost vulnerable, floats in front of her. It felt like a moment with the real Jess. It felt like a gift. His voice echoes again in her head, 'Mind if I share it?' It was the most amazing thing anyone had ever said to her. Even Dean, romantic and sweet, had never said anything that left her feeling so giddy, so awake.
Dean.
She groans. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she moves her hand to cover them. 'DEAN is my boyfriend,' she reminds herself.
'Dean IS my boyfriend.'
'Dean is MY boyfriend.'
'Dean is my BOYFRIEND.'
Idly, her hand moves to her forehead where she fingers her bruise, the physical reminder of her first real conversation with Jess in months. Removing her hand, she studies herself in the hallway mirror.
'Hi, my name is Rory and I'm a denial-holic.'
Rolling her eyes, she walks into her bedroom, dropping her backpack and flopping on her bed. She tries to imagine Dean in her heaven, placing him next to her in heaven's library. The vision is laughable and she almost would if it weren't so completely un-funny. There is Dean in her heaven, 'and all he does is slouch in a chair and ask me if I'm ready to go every five minutes,' she envisions. 'That's really going to get on my nerves.'
The bigger problem is that she just can't seem to pull Jess out of the picture. He lounges casually in a chair, reading a John Fante novel. She tries to erase him but he pops up again, wandering in Classical Philosophy. She removes him from the stacks but he saunters back in, offering her a biography he's found on Wendy O. Williams. Taking it, she tells his image to go away. Obediently, he vanishes but reappears at a Langston Hughes poetry reading. Like the card catalog or the Dewey Decimal System, Jess is a permanent fixture in heaven's library.
Equally as troubling, she can't picture Jess and Dean in the same heavenly room. It's ridiculous. 'This is my mind,' she stubbornly resolves, 'I can picture them in a room together if I want to.'
'Well,' answers her subconscious, 'You'd have to actually want both of them there.'
'Shut up,' she tells her subconscious.
It's ironic. She can't imagine her heaven with Dean and can't imagine it without Jess.
Not for the first time, she finds herself at a loss for a solution. Slowly, the germ of an idea creeps into her mind like a cloud, vaporous and shifting, it takes solid shape. 'It's worth a shot,' Rory thinks, sitting up. She walks over to her bookshelf and searches the titles. Finding what she's looking for, she pulls it off the shelf and wanders into the living room. She plops the heavy book down on the coffee table where it hits with a commanding 'thunk.' The porcelain figurines on the fireplace mantle rattle slightly before stilling. Pleased with herself, Rory walks back into her bedroom to begin studying.
As she opens her calculus textbook, a random thought skitters across her brain 'Heaven's library has great chairs.'
Several hours have passed in which time Rory has completed her calculus homework and moved on to a paper assigned for her American History class. Her analysis of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution is interrupted by the ringing phone.
"Hello?" Rory answers.
"Ethel? It's Lucy," says a familiar voice
"Hi mom," Rory smiles.
"I'm completely stuck here. Two of Sookie's assistant chefs were riding into work together and got in some sort of car accident. Until they finish with the police, I'm sticking around to help her."
"Umm. . . is that a good idea?" Rory asks suddenly concerned.
"What?"
"Well, define 'help her'."
"Oh. . . Stand in the kitchen, keeping at least 5 feet between me and anything that resembles food, while I prevent Sookie from killing herself and everyone else unfortunate enough to get near her while she's in this mood."
"That's a very appropriate use for your skills," Rory says exhaling.
"Isn't it? Although if she needs me to stir something, I could probably do that."
"Mom-"
"Right. Sorry. Slipped into another dimension there for a minute but I'm back now."
"That was a fast trip," Rory teases.
"Jet lag from dimensional crossings is brutal but I'll survive. Anyways, don't wait on me for dinner because I may be here for awhile."
"Dean is coming over soon," Rory tells her, glancing at the clock. "We'll just order a pizza or something."
"Well, there you go," says Lorelai sounding happy. "Have fun, babe."
"You too," Rory says hanging up the phone. She returns to her studies until she hears a knock on the door.
She is not surprised to find Dean standing on the porch, holding a video.
"Hi," Rory greets him, opening the door for him to enter. Her chest tightens involuntarily.
"Hey," Dean says, smiling as he comes in. "How's your head?"
"Oh, fine," she says dismissively as he leans down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. Rory, uncomfortable, accepts the kiss and immediately turns away to lead him into the living room.
"What movie did you bring?" she asks, hoping she already knows the answer.
"Fellowship of the Rings."
Rory smiles widely.
"Perfect!" she chirps.
"Hmm," Dean replies. He smiles and knits his eyebrows together, "That's not exactly the reaction I expected."
Rory walks to the coffee table and picks up the large book she placed there earlier. Still grinning, she hands it to him.
"Lord of the Rings, by J. R. R. Tolkien," Dean says, reading its cover. He shoots Rory a curious glance.
"I thought since you like the movies so much, you'd enjoy the book," she states hopefully, excitedly. "It's much better than the movie."
"It's 1,137 pages long," he tells her, flipping to the last page.
"You don't have to read all the appendices."
"OK, It's. . ." he pauses, searching for the end of the final chapter, "1,008 pages."
"Yeah, but you won't even notice. It's so good, the pages fly by."
Skeptical, he shakes his head and tries to hand the book back to her. "Reading's not really my thing," he says apologetically.
"Just try it!" she pleads. "I think you'll really like it."
"I already know what happens. I've seen the movies. This one," he gestures to the video he brought, "and The Two Towers. I don't need to read the book."
"No, it's different. Peter Jackson changed things. The basic plot is intact but enough alterations were made that anyone who has read the trilogy would notice it's not a pure interpretation of Middle Earth. Story lines were omitted, new scenes were added and. . . I can't figure out why. I sat in the theatre thinking, 'where did that come from?' In my opinion, the story didn't need to be changed. Seriously, did Jackson think he could improve on Tolkien?"
"I thought the movies were awesome."
"Yeah, but the book is better," she entreats becoming desperate. "Tom Bombadil wasn't included in Fellowship of the Rings but Frodo almost gives the ring to him for safe keeping. Tom Bombadil is the spirit of the Old Forest in the same way that Treebeard is the spirit of Fangorn. Treebeard! There's another character who was altered. Treebeard is the oldest living creature and he's incredibly wise. When we meets Merry and Pippin, they tell him Gandalf is dead but Treebeard looks at them oddly because he has a bond with the earth and he hasn't felt Gandalf's death. He knows it isn't true. In the movie, Treebeard was like some big dumb sequoia. I just hated that-"
"Rory-"
"Oh, speaking of the Ents, they already know that Saruman had been destroying the trees. The movie shows them surprised when they arrive at Isengard and find it a vast wasteland, but they already knew. That's why they were mad enough to get involved in the first place. Not to mention that the Hurons, bewitched trees that were critical in the battle of Helm's Deep, never even made an appearance."
"I just-"
"Don't even get me started on the way the movies totally play down Aragorn's legacy as the rightful King of Gondor. The sword he carries is THE sword that slew Sauron. That's huge! My favorite scene in the book, which annoyingly got changed in the movie, is when Aragorn and company meet the Riders of the Riddermark and Eomer challenges them. Aragorn throws back his cape, unsheathes his sword, and says 'I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur Elendil's heir, the rightful king of Gondor. Here is the sword that brought down Sauron. Let me pass!' Well. . . he says something like that. . . you get the idea. He reveals himself and even Legolas and Gimli are awed-"
"Rory! Stop!" Dean interrupts her rant.
Startled, Rory bites her lower lip and looks at her feet. When she finally looks up to meet his eyes, he sees the defeated sadness in them. During her animated attempt at persuasion, a stay tendril of hair has come loose. His hand moves as if to tuck it behind her ear, but before she can stop herself, she backs away out of his reach. Quietly, she tucks the strand away herself. He looks puzzled but lets the moment pass without remark.
"I don't enjoy reading," he explains. "At least, not the same way you do. I'd never read a 1,000-page book about a movie I've already seen. It's just not my idea of fun."
"But Faramir is valiant," she implores in a small voice. Feeling the illusion that she can make Dean be the person she needs begin to slip through her fingers, she presses, "He's different from Boromir - Faramir never even considered taking the ring from Frodo. Just like Arwen never considered leaving Aragorn. Never."
"It's OK. To me, the movies are still good. I don't care about the changes," he tells her placing the Tolkien tome back on the coffee table.
Rory looks at him and feels her heart begin to break.
"Dean, sit with me for a minute," she says pulling him onto the couch next to her. Her eyes cast about the room as if it contains a hint or suggestion of how she can make him understand what she needs to tell him next. She thinks about Jess and their conversation on the bridge. She looks back up at Dean.
"Rory?" he questions, his eyes growing concerned. "Is something wrong?"
'He's so sweet' she thinks as she feels herself start to waiver. From the dark recesses of her mind a quote whispers to her, 'Screw your courage to the sticking-place.' She is momentarily distracted by the oddness of Lady MacBeth providing her with help during her moment of indecision.
"Uh. . . Rory?"
'Screw your courage to the sticking-place,' the voice commands.
"Dean, what's your heaven like?" she asks, curious.
"My heaven? What do you mean?"
"When you picture heaven, what do you see?"
"I dunno," he says puzzled. "Clouds, angels with harps. . ."
"No. I mean, if you could create your own heaven, custom tailored so it's perfect for you, what would it be like?"
"Hmm. . ." he ponders the question. A smile breaks out on his face and he says "All sports, all the time!"
Rory sighs.
"It would have a regulation basketball court bordered by an Olympic-sized pool on one side and a football field on the other. The football field needs to be surrounded by a track ring. Oh, I'll need a hockey rink and a climbing wall. I also want a locker room with free weights, a sauna, whirlpool. . . the works."
"Of course."
"And my house will be full of wide screen TVs so I can keep track of all my favorite teams. My heaven gets cable." he informs her grinning.
Her heart breaks fully in two. 'He was the world's most amazing first boyfriend,' she thinks.
As Dean notices the look on Rory's face, his smile begins to fade. He leans closer to her. "Rory, please tell me what's wrong with you," he implores.
"I'm going to miss you, Dean," she says simply, without prelude.
Her words smart like a burn and he recoils.
"What do you mean 'you'll miss me'? Are you going somewhere?" he questions, hoping he has misread the look on her face, the signs of goodbye in her eyes.
"I can't do this anymore," she says simply.
"Rory. . ."
"It's better this way. You deserve someone who will appreciate all the wonderful things about you."
"Oh my God," he says realization hitting him like a truck. "You're breaking up with me." His blood freezes, his chest burns. He can taste disbelief on his tongue, in his mouth. It tastes bitter.
"I wish there was a way to make you understand."
"You're breaking up with me because of a book?" he asks incredulously, his eyes falling on The Lord of the Ring.
"No," she tries to explain. "I'm breaking up with you because we're too different. We want different things. We'll never be able to make each other happy. I mean, truly happy."
"This is crazy. I've tried to make you happy. I care about you, Rory."
"I know," she answers, her eyes beginning to tear.
"I'll read the damn book."
"It's not that simple."
"Well then please explain it to me because I'm at a loss."
"Things have been going bad for a long, long time. You've grown jealous and I'm tired of defending myself, walking on eggshells. You're always mad. I'm always worried. Every time we're together, it's a compromise for one of us because our interests are completely divergent."
"This is about Jess isn't it?" he asks standing up. His voice is hard, his fists, clenched.
"No, it's about us."
"Tell me the truth for once, Rory. You want to be with Jess."
"Don't twist this - it's not about Jess. It's about you and me. We're wrong for each other. Jess or no Jess, you and I don't work. We just don't. I am not the person you think I am. I'm not the one for you. In your heart, you know I'm right."
"Being right is overrated," Dean answers sharply. Angry and frustrated, he walks across the living room. "He'll never love you like I do, Rory."
"Don't go there," she warns, following him to the door.
"And I do, you know," he says faltering as he reaches for the door knob. "Love you, I mean."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Then don't do this," he implores.
"I should have done it months ago. I. . . It's not. . ." Stumbling over words she doesn't really want to say, she looks in his eyes and the truth, denied for so long, tumbles out. "I don't love you, Dean. Not the way you need me to."
He turns on his heel and walks out the door without another word or backward glance. Rory watches him walk down her porch stairs and across the yard. The tears she had held back begin to stream down her face.
"Bye, Dean," she whispers.
Numb and hurting, Rory makes her way to her bedroom. Crawling onto her bed, she lies on her side and curls into a tight, tiny ball. Her tears flow unchecked, unabated. As guilt washes over her, Rory loses track of time.
"I'm home," Lorelai's voice announces as if the crashing sound made by her entrance isn't announcement enough.
"Please tell me there's some of that pizza leftover," she says walking into the kitchen. Seeing no sign of pizza, or anything else for that matter, she wanders into the living room.
"Rory?" Lorelai calls. "You here? Rory, where are you?"
Peeking her head into Rory's room, she spies her daughter still lying in a fetal position on her bed.
"Rory?" Lorelai says softly, walking into the room. "Are you OK?"
"Oh, mom," Rory chokes sitting up and holding out her arms.
Lorelai immediately goes to her, sitting on Rory's bed and wrapping her in an embrace. Fresh tears slip from Rory's eyes and spill onto Lorelai's shoulder. Lorelai smoothes her hair and makes comforting noises while Rory sobs.
At length, Lorelai says, "Honey, what happened? Can you talk about it yet?"
Sniffing and wiping her eyes, Rory moves out of her mother's embrace and sits back slightly.
"I broke up with Dean."
"Oh."
"I took the heart of a perfectly good boyfriend and I crushed it like a grape."
"Oh, sweetie."
"I think something is fundamentally wrong with me. Why couldn't I love him? I mean, in that love-love way. He wanted me to so badly, but I just didn't."
"Nothing is wrong with you, honey. You can't help how you feel. Love can't be forced, it just happens or it. . . doesn't. Trust me on this one."
"I tried so hard to love him, mom," Rory says forlornly. "I kept waiting to feel like he was something other than my brother or my puppy."
"A mighty big puppy," Lorelai smiles.
"It's not funny," Rory insists, starting to smile.
"More like a pet giraffe."
"Stop it," Rory commands starting to laugh, wiping her eyes. "Stop making me feel better. I don't want to feel better. I want to feel terrible and think sad thoughts. I don't deserve to feel better. I deserve to walk through life alone and unloved for tormenting the world's most perfect boyfriend."
"You're being awfully hard on yourself."
"I'm a terrible evil person."
"You're definitely not evil. And what you deserve is someone who thinks you're amazing, because you are. You deserve to feel the exact same way about someone else. When it finally happens for you, and that's 'when', not 'if', it's going to be incredible."
Rory looks at her skeptically.
"I tell you the truth, child. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you," Lorelai says reassuringly.
"Why didn't I love him then?"
"Because you didn't."
"But I should have."
"But you didn't."
"I really really wanted to."
"I know. Love doesn't work that way."
"Maybe it's a fever. Maybe I should see a doctor."
"I think it's nothing that Ben & Jerry's Super Fudge Chunk won't cure. Well, that and time."
"Time. Ugh. This is going to suck," Rory groans, falling backwards on the bed.
"Which is why we need the ice cream. It decreases the suck factor."
Rory smiles weakly as Lorelai stands to go to the kitchen. At Rory's bedroom door, she turns back.
"Sometimes, doing the right thing means doing the hard thing. Breaking up with Dean was in the category of hard. . . like running a marathon while carrying a teaspoon of water that you're not allowed to spill hard. But you know what? You did it."
"Yeah, I did," sniffs Rory.
"I'm proud of you, babe."
"You mean that?" Rory whispers.
"Don't ever doubt it," Lorelai states, smiling warmly at her daughter.
Returning with the ice cream carton and two spoons, Lorelai hands one to Rory.
"About Jess. . ." Lorelai begins as she digs into the ice cream.
"Please mom. Don't," Rory responds, her mouth full.
"I was going to say. . . give that some time too. Processing Emotion A before leaping into Emotion B is generally a good idea. Not that I've ever done it myself but I hear it's the way to go."
"Recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists?"
"Them too. And. . . by Emotion A, I mean how you feel about the breakup with Dean. Emotion B is how you feel about Jess."
"Yeah, I figured. I appreciate the clarification anyway though."
"Oh, anytime."
They eat ice cream in companionable silence.
"We're going to need coffee too," Rory realizes.
"I started a pot brewing when I got the ice cream," Lorelai grins.
"Good thinking," Rory smiles back.
They are silent, one lost in thoughts about how something has ended; the other, older and wiser, recognizing that tonight, in fact, something has begun.
* * * * * * *
A/N: And he's going, going, gone. . . say goodbye to Dean everyone! That was a kinder gentler breakup scene than the one I originally envisioned where he gets abducted by aliens. Fear not, literati junkies. . . there is definite Rory and Jess action in the future of this fic but please be patient while I work my way there. Reviews make me write faster. Seriously, it's a weird phenomenon. Thanks all!