A/N: Thank you for all your reviews!! I can't tell you how much I love
you guys!! I got some positive feedback about the passages I wrote in
first-person so I'm trying a bit more of it, both from Rory's and Jess'
perspective. Please let me know if you like it or if it's just irritating
(it's new for me, you know?) Actually, to do it right takes a bit more
page space so this chapter is longer.
Personal note to 'Me' - yes, I do have a volume of Lord of the Rings that contains the entire trilogy. It's paperback (read: cheap, like retailing under $20) and was purchased at Border books. I've also seen it at Barnes and Noble.
Disclaimer: I so don't own the Gilmore Girls.
Get ready folks. The literati Olympics are about to begin!
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The water is hot, near scalding. I stand under it, letting it beat on my shoulders, my back. I've washed twice, hair and body, hoping to rid myself of all traces of last night that might still be clinging to me. It didn't work, not exactly, but I feel better anyway. My skin is bright pink from the heat and my fingertips are wrinkled. I suppose that means it's time to get out of the shower and face the day. One last time I turn into the heavy stream, feeling the stinging prickle of the water as it hits my face. Turning it off, I catch my breath and climb out of the shower.
The steam filled room is comforting and I dry myself slowly. I want to see if I look different now but the mirror is a mask of fog and condensation. I wipe it with one hand, pushing aside the clinging mist to reveal its reflective surface. Staring at myself, I see that the puffiness in both my eyes and face has receded, probably melted by the heat. Definitely a good sign. Yes, I look better. More importantly, I feel better, cleaner inside and out. I allow myself a half smile, inching the corners of my mouth up before I lean over to wrap my hair in a towel.
Rising up, a pang of guilt slices through me as I wonder how Dean is doing this morning. Probably not great, I conclude. Sweet Dean who is all wrong for me. My mind involuntarily drifts to Jess who is, at least in the eyes of this town, probably all wrong for me too. I can't help it though, something about him feels decidedly un-wrong. I think about the way his eyes search mine and how he seems to know what I'm thinking, even when I'm not sure myself. He must be at work by now, helping Luke. I picture him scowling through the diner, taking orders, filling coffee cups. I'm seized by a crazy urge to write his name in the mirror fog just to see what it would look like there, how the letters would fit in my space. I shake it off by brushing my teeth.
Opening the bathroom door, I'm greeted by the wonderful aroma of coffee, which means two things - I can get my first fix of the day and mom's awake. Tightening my robe around me, I wander into the kitchen.
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Despite the winter season, the Gilmore kitchen is bathed in sunlight. The elder Gilmore looks up and smiles warmly at her daughter.
"Morning sweetie. Feeling better?" Lorelai greets Rory.
"Mmmm," Rory responds, reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.
"Nothing like a 2-hour shower to start the day."
"Yep. I'm all prune-y," Rory yawns, lifting up her palms up for her mother's inspection.
"Like a geezer's dream. So. . . How do you feel about going to Lukes?"
"Oh. . . Umm. . ." Rory hesitates.
"Relax. You just broke up with him, like, five minutes ago. Not even the Stars Hollow grapevine works that fast," Lorelai reasons with her. "It will be like when Julia Roberts broke up with Benjamin Bratt and no one even knew it until she married that other guy."
"Didn't Benjamin get married first?"
"I thought Julia did."
"I don't remember."
"Well, my point is, unless Dean married someone else between the time of your breakup last night and breakfast this morning, I doubt anyone else will even have heard about it."
Their conversation is interrupted by a knock at the front door. Both women look at each other, puzzled.
"Are you expecting someone?" Lorelai asks.
"No. You?"
"No. Quick, grab the squirt guns," Lorelai commands. "I'm getting a Jehovah's Witnesses vibe."
"The squirt guns have been missing since the Labor Day parade of 2001."
"Ah yes. One of our finer water moments. I'll never forget the look on Kirk's face when we ambushed him. Hey, that's something we can do today. Buy new squirt guns! We should get one of those water balloon launchers too."
The visitor knocks again.
"Maybe you should answer the door first," Rory suggests.
"No way! You get it."
"I'm not dressed," Rory states, gesturing to her robe. "You're dressed, therefore you should answer the door."
"Fine," Lorelai concedes. "But if this is anyone wanting to talk to me about my personal salvation, I'm cooking breakfast for you and forcing you to eat it."
"You wouldn't!"
"Paybacks, my child," Lorelai taunts raising her eyebrows, "are indeed a bitch."
Lorelai opens the front door and greets the person standing on the porch.
"Babette," Lorelai chirps. "Hey."
"Hello dear," Babette answers, pushing past her and walking straight to Rory. "Oh Rory, honey," she coos, concern etched on her face as she puts a hand on Rory's shoulder. "How are you holding up?" Turning to Lorelai, she says, "She's not even dressed yet. It's worse than I expected."
"What are you talking about?" Rory questions, confused.
"Well, I baked you this coffee cake. I know how much you girls like coffee," Babette responds, walking into the kitchen and setting a Tupperware container on the counter. "It ain't much but times like these are so trying for teenage girls."
"Uh. . . Times like what?" Lorelai questions.
"Well, breakups," Babette states as if she's explaining herself to a 2-year old. To Rory she says, "I know you loved Dean honey, but things will get better. Heartbreak doesn't last forever. In a year or two, you won't even think about it everyday."
"Oh my God!" Rory exclaims, looking right at Lorelai. "Dean got married!"
"Did he?" Babette questions excitedly.
"Wow," Lorelai states, amazement obvious in her voice. "Score one for the Stars Hollow grapevine."
Reeling, Rory bolts into her bedroom.
Lorelai sighs.
"Babette, Rory is fine," she explains. "She's actually the one who broke up with Dean."
"Oh! That's not what I heard."
"Well, you heard wrong."
"She's OK, then?"
"Mostly," Lorelai states. "At least, we're not at that bring-food-over- because-I-can't-leave-her-side-long-enough-to-toast-her-a-poptart level of trauma. In fact, if you want to take your coffee cake back, I'm sure she'd understand."
"Don't be silly, honey. You girls enjoy it! I gotta go call Patty anyways."
"You do that," Lorelai responds flatly, opening the front door so Babette can exit.
Closing the door, Lorelai makes her way to Rory's room. Knocking gently, she pushes the door open to find Rory in her bed with the covers pulled over her head.
"Is she gone?" Rory moans.
"She just left," Lorelai responds, sitting on Rory's bed.
"Change in plans."
"OK, fill me in."
"I'm going to stay right here all day long. The wallowing officially begins now."
"Or, you could come to Lukes with me."
"I really need to count the threads in this sheet. I've been meaning to do that. Are these Egyptian cotton?"
"Or, you could come to Lukes with me."
"This is the perfect opportunity to hone my henna tattooing skills. I'm thinking one would look nice circling my belly button. What should I go with, Elvis or Beavis?"
"Or, you could come to Lukes with me."
"I should stay home and practice my yodeling. It's true what they say, if you don't yodel everyday, you lose your edge."
"Or-" Lorelai begins.
"I think I have that rare projectile form of leprosy. Probably I shouldn't be around people."
"You know what cures that?"
Pulling the sheet off her head, Rory looks at her mother. "What?"
"Pancakes and Luke's coffee."
Rory rolls her eyes.
"Really, I just read about it in the New England Journal of Medicine. They're calling it the newest miracle cure. Johns Hopkins is sending a team of pathologists to Luke's Diner to study his pancake-coffee leprosy treatment."
"Everybody knows mom," Rory states plaintively.
"Yeah. I think they do."
"I can't stand the thought of all those people talking about me, feeling sorry for me."
"Look on the bright side, we could wind up with lots more coffee cake."
Rory pulls the sheet back over her head.
"Honey, if everyone knows, then they know. Hiding in your bedroom isn't going to change that. Postponing facing people just means living with the dread of it longer. If you come out with me now, you can get it over with and this will blow away."
Rory peeps out from under the sheet. Her eyes look unconvinced.
"Are you sorry you broke up with Dean?" Lorelai asks.
"No."
"Well, then you're going to have to live with your decision and face the residents of Stars Hollow eventually. You can either rip the band-aid off slowly and painfully, or rip it off quickly and painfully. It's your choice," Lorelai reasons.
"You're kinda making sense. Seriously, I think I may have a fever. Feel my head," Rory commands pulling Lorelai's hand to her forehead.
"Nope. No fever. However, that bruise is going away."
"Well, that's one good thing."
"That's the spirit! Keep looking on the bright side and get dressed. We leave in 15 minutes."
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Mom and I walk into Luke's Diner, making the little bell ring. It feels as though time pauses temporarily while everyone looks at me. The world slows, the diner patrons stare in slow motion, I blink. In a heartbeat, time is normal again. I'm probably just imagining it but my face reddens anyway. Irritated and feeling exposed, I stare at my feet.
"Counter or table?" mom asks me.
"Table," I answer quickly, vehemently. The thought of being on a high stool in clear view at the front of the diner is, to put it mildly, unappealing.
Mom looks at me oddly and I mumble, "Definitely a table."
We sit and Luke appears as if by magic with two cups of coffee.
"Oh wow," mom says. "I didn't even have to beg or anything. I had a great speech planned too."
"Save it for tomorrow," Luke advises her. To me he says, softer, "How are you doing?"
Instantly, I realize that Luke knows about Dean. 'He's trying to be kind,' I remind myself while I desperately try not to connect the dots that lead from Luke's knowledge of my relationship's demise to what his nephew may know, must know.
"I'm fine," I tell him, meeting his eyes. "Really."
"What can I get you for breakfast?" he asks.
"She needs pancakes for her leprosy," mom informs him.
"Right," Luke answers, so used to my mom's non sequiturs that he doesn't even try to figure out what she's talking about. A flood for affection for him rises in me and I grin at him. Mom notices.
"Pancakes for me too, please," she says, smiling broadly and gratefully at Luke.
Momentarily struck by the expression on her face, Luke looks startled but recovers quickly, fumbling with the coffee pot and muttering "coming right up." If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was blushing.
"Coffee without begging. You should break up with Dean more often."
"Mom!"
"Sorry sorry sorry sorry," she says, her eyes wide, apologetic.
"Rory," Kirk's voice calls to me. "I've been waiting for you to get here."
"Hi Kirk," I say, unenthusiastically.
"I'm sorry to hear about your breakup with Dean. I brought you this book from my personal collection. I think it will help ease your transition back into the single life," he says, handing me a well-worn paperback. "I find this one quite useful."
My stomach lurches just thinking about what kind of reading material Kirk would favor but eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me and I take the book from him.
"What to do with your life when you are unloved," I read, looking at the book's cover.
"Yes," Kirk intones. "There is a particularly interesting passage about dying alone that I've earmarked for you. You should probably read that chapter first-"
"Kirk," mom interrupts. "You know, I was at Doose's market yesterday and overheard Taylor talking about how he'd like you to shoot a commercial for him."
"Really? A commercial?" Kirk asks suddenly disinterested in me.
"Oh yeah, to advertise the grocery store. Something about expanding marketing efforts to increase his customer base. I didn't get the details but I gather he's thinking about asking you to direct his TV commercial. He was impressed by the talent you displayed in your movie."
"Well, it's gratifying to know that someone in this town appreciates my art. I'd better get right over there and talk to him about it."
"You know what they say. . . No time like the present."
"Do you think he'd dress like a super hero?" Kirk asks mom. "Because I have some ideas."
"Oh, you should definitely ask him about that," mom answers in mock seriousness.
Kirk leaves without another look in my direction. His book rests sadly on our table
"Mean!" I say smiling, at mom.
"You're welcome," she winks.
Suddenly, there he is. How long has he been in the room? Did he overhear Kirk? Inhaling sharply, I feel my heart skip a beat as I watch Jess set plates of eggs, bacon, and sausage on a table near me. I'm openly staring at him, which is unlike me but I can't tear my eyes away. He glances at me briefly, his expression unchanging, his eyes, unreadable.
I keep staring as Mom darts off on one of those tangents that she's so prone to, the tangents that I adore. I try to follow the thread of her conversation, give her my attention but it's impossible and eventually I only pretend to listen. Jess retreats into the kitchen and I finally gain control over my faculties. I have to stop this soon or everyone will know what's in my mind just by looking at my face, including him. I shut my eyes briefly, marveling at the astonishing control he seems to have over me already. Staring at my hands seems safer so that's what I do. All I'm capable of right now is feeling the nearness of Jess' presence and the butterflies in my stomach.
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God, it must be true. I heard the talk but didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. Rory and Dean break up? Things like that just don't happen here in the Magic Kingdom. This is the kind of place where the homecoming queen dates the captain of the football team and guys like me date girls like Shane. Yet, all morning people have been 'poor Dean-ing' and 'they seemed so happy, it can't be true-ing'. I tuned them out, certain that the rumor mill had gotten it wrong this time. Whoever said there are no secrets in small towns was probably from Stars Hollow.
Not that this changes anything for me. I mean, it's not like she left Dean so she could be with me. If I were anyone else, the intensity of her stare just now would lead me to conclude that she has some sort of interest in me. The thing is, I'm not anyone else. I'm a city boy and I know you can't trust that female shit. It's ridiculous. Rory Gilmore like me? I don't have that kind of luck. Still, my mind tortures me, telling me that she must feel the same electric current I feel when our eyes meet. The current that makes me want to crush her to me in all of her innocence and kiss her, fiercely, deeply. Leave her burning and enlightened. I want to see her eyes glaze over and hear a breathy sound form in the back of her throat. I imagine feeling her tremble when my hands land on her hips, slide to her back, pull her close. Her small, firm body pressed against mine, her fingers in my hair. A guttural sound threatens to emerge from me but I swallow it.
What the hell is wrong with me? Of all the girls I've known in my life, why is it the small town virginal princess that affects me this way? This game is not new to me. I've been with women, more than I can count. I fucking know better than to let myself get pulled in so completely and yet, I did it anyway. Here I stand. . . her fool. How has one kiss from her gotten me so completely under her spell, left me at her mercy? I'm in the palm of her goddamn hand and I hate it. Damn her books and the way she reads. Damn her sarcastic wit. Damn her purity. Damn the way she challenges me, ties me up in knots. Damn her blue eyes. Damn the way she makes me want her.
Oh God, she's so beautiful.
I'm weak, defeated, but I don't want her to see it. Not today.
'Still,' I think, the corners of my mouth tugging slightly upwards, 'she did break up with Bag Boy.' It's a start.
I pull myself together and emerge from the kitchen in time to see Luke setting their food in front of them. Rory is watching me, spying, always spying. This game feels familiar too and I pretend not to notice. Accepting my assigned role, I stay behind the counter and brew a fresh pot of coffee.
It's apparently Miss Patty's turn to console Rory. Can't these people see that she just wants to be left alone? Privacy is an undervalued commodity in this town. Good thing because it's in short supply. I pick up a rag and wipe down the counter so I can get closer to their table. Yeah, I'm eavesdropping. So what?
". . . and I was so upset that I stopped eating. Unfortunately, I mainly lost weight in my chest. It was just terrible, my costumes were too loose and in the middle of a performance at the Tropicana in Miami, my top slipped down and I flashed Tito Puente," Miss Patty rambles.
Oh no! Bad visual. I bend down so no one can see the look of horror that has just overtaken my face.
"Really Miss Patty," Rory interrupts. "I appreciate your empathy but I'm fine. I'm the one who broke up with Dean. It was my idea."
"Of course it was, dear," I hear Miss Patty say. She sounds patronizing and my heart goes out to Rory. This town doesn't want her to be anything but a powerless little girl.
"It was!" Rory protests. "Why is that so hard for everyone to believe? I broke up with Dean. Me! I did it! He did not break up with me this time. I was the break-er-upper, he was the break-ee."
OK, she's making up words now. She's either really upset or she's channeling Lorelai. I'm gonna go with upset.
I hear Lorelai saying something softly, I can't quite make out her words but I'm sure they're designed to calm Rory down. It doesn't seem to be working as Rory appears agitated, fidgety. Hell, I think it would be good for Rory to get pissed, to stand up for herself. 'Don't take that crap from them Rory,' I think grinning to myself.
Miss Patty walks away and Rory shoots me a look. I focus on my wiping but can tell that her eyes are lingering on me. A visual caress from Rory Gilmore? It'll do for now.
Inspiration striking, I whip out my order pad, rip one of the pages off and flip it over. Pulling my pen from behind my ear, I write a short message on it. I fold it up and wait for my opportunity. It comes in the form of Luke.
He walks out to their table to refill their coffee mugs and engages Lorelai in that flirt-banter thing they do. 'Uncle Luke's got it bad,' I think as I approach their table.
Pausing briefly, I lean slightly and press the folded paper into Rory's hand. Startled, she looks up at me. I hold her gaze for a moment before her fingers close around the note. In just that instant, her fingers brush against mine and I feel their heat as tiny fireworks explode just under my skin. I'm gone as quickly as I came, continuing my stride to a recently vacated table that I start busing.
I feel her eyes on me again but ignore her completely, walking back into the kitchen.
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My hand is on fire from his touch and it shakes slightly. Dean and I had entire make out sessions that didn't leave me as affected as one touch on my hand from Jess. I take the paper he's given me and slip it in my pocket. Glancing around the diner, I see that no one has noticed our exchange. Jess is like vapor, like water. When he wants to be, he is utterly invisible.
My pager goes off and I pull it out of my coat pocket.
"What's it say?" mom asks me, her mouth full of pancake.
"It says. 'Church. Breakup!? Music therapy. Noon. Here.'"
"Lane?"
"Who else could it be?"
"Is that some sort of secret code?"
"No. She's telling me she's stuck in Korean church all day, it is Sunday after all. She's heard about my breakup." Pausing I look up at my mother. "How do you think she heard about the breakup if she's been in church all day?" I ask, puzzled.
"Lane is a phenomenon. She probably has a video surveillance network covering the entire town."
"I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, she's pulled out some CDs that she thinks will make me feel better and I should meet her at her house at noon to pick them up."
"Wow. She's getting pretty verbose in her pages these days."
"It's almost noon now," I reply looking at my watch. Shoving the last bite of pancake in my mouth and draining my coffee mug, I say to mom, "Is it OK if I-"
"Go."
"Thanks," I grin.
I shrug on my coat and bolt out of the door, happy to have survived my first post-Dean public appearance. I breathe deeply and the cool air fills my lungs. As I walk past the diner's front window, I feel his gaze upon me. I turn slightly to verify this sensation with my eyes and discover that I was right. His eyes hold mine and he smirks, just barely though. I return his grin and keep walking.
As soon as I'm out of sight, my hand fishes into my pocket and pulls out his note. I read it slowly to savor every word. It says,
'I believe in mess, tears, pain, self-abasement, loss of self-respect, nakedness. Not caring doesn't seem much different from not loving. -Tom Stoppard, The Real Thing.'
I feel my knees get weak. Somewhat lightheaded, I stop and grab a pole to steady myself. Clutching his note, I read it again.
'Jess,' I think. 'You are going to be trouble.'
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"Luke!" Jess shouts. "I'm taking my break."
"15 minutes, Jess," Luke calls out to Jess' departing back as he slips out the front door.
Lost in thought, Jess heads to the park across the street and slouches on a bench. The town troubadour wanders by with his guitar, singing an old Credence Clearwater Revival song.
'Crazy fucking town,' Jess thinks as he lights a cigarette.
Rory is on her way back from Lane's house with an overfilled sack of CDs ranging from maudlin angst-ridden music to thrash rock. Rory grins as she remembers Lane slipping her the bag quickly from its hiding place under the Kim front porch. 'Music for every possible breakup mood,' Lane had assured her. A quick hug later and she was gone, back to Korean Sunday school.
Rory feels unsettled, like a caged bird that, when set free, hangs around its cage because it doesn't know what else to do. On impulse, she decides not to head home yet but instead wander wherever her feet choose to take her. It was an unusual feeling, this newfound freedom. It coursed through her veins powerfully. She felt older, freer. Claiming her liberty for the first time in, well, years really, she walks more confidently, her destination simply 'someplace interesting'.
'It doesn't get more interesting than that,' she muses spotting Jess in the town square. She makes her way to his bench.
"Why is it that every time I see you lately you're smoking?" she asks, sitting next to him.
"You saw me earlier today in the diner and I wasn't smoking," he counters, smirking at her.
"Only because Luke doesn't let you."
Jess looks at her out of the corner of his eye but says nothing, studying her.
"Don't expect me to visit you in the hospital when you have emphysema," she informs him.
"You know, if you keep talking about my health, I might start thinking that you actually care about me."
Rory colors and decides to change the subject.
"So. . . Tom Stoppard. I didn't know you read plays."
"There are lots of things you don't know about me," he answers evasively, exhaling smoke.
"OK, for now, let's start with your favorite Stoppard play."
"Hmm. . ." he pauses, stubbing out his cigarette. "For it's commentary on the ordinary human condition, The Real Thing. For humor, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. For angst and loss of innocence, Empire of the Sun. For sheer brilliance, Shakespeare in Love."
"That's kind of a cop-out, picking four instead of just one."
"That's the most honest answer I can give you."
"Well," she admits. "Of those, I've only read The Real Thing. I've seen the movies made from the other three but never actually read the screenplays."
"You should."
"Maybe I will."
"What do you remember of The Real Thing?" Jess asks.
"Wow, a lot of stuff about truth and love."
"Specifically, what?" he presses.
"Well, that love, real love, is about knowing and being known. That knowledge of another person, not carnal knowledge but really knowing someone when their mask is off and they're just. . . himself or herself, that's what it's about."
Jess regards her thoughtfully. Rory feels compelled to continue.
"I don't remember it specifically but there's a scene in The Real Thing where the husband asks the wife if he's cheating, which, you know, she isn't, but she's been distracted by someone else. He guesses at what she's feeling and describes it almost exactly. The passage is beautiful."
"'A small quickening. The room responds slightly to being entered. Like a raised blind. Nothing intended, and a long way from doing anything, but you catch the glint of being someone else's possibility.'" Jess quotes.
"Oh my God, that's it," she breathes. She marvels that, despite her poor description, he knew just what she was talking about. 'How is this possible?' she wonders, reeling.
Jess looks away, feeling a similar sensation of connection to her.
"How are you?" he questions.
Rory groans. She is instantly snapped back to the present.
"If one more person asks me how I'm doing since breaking up with Dean, I swear I'll scream."
"Yeah, but the difference is, I actually care."
"So the 700 other people who've asked me that question today, don't care about my answer?"
"I guess on some level they do, but I think mainly they're just nosy."
"I'm fine," she sighs, fixing her eyes on him.
"Good," he smiles.
They're quiet for a minute.
"I should get back to the diner," he says, standing.
"Yeah, I should go home," she says, standing too.
"I'll see you around."
"Yeah. . ."
Jess turns and strides back into the diner. Rory watches him walk. Once inside, he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. She is glued to her spot, staring through the diner's front window, fixated. He looks back at her and meets her gaze. Caught, she snaps out of her stupor. Flushing deeply, she turns and runs home.
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A/N: I was going to include the scene with Lane but the chapter was getting too long. Lane will enter the story later if I can figure out how to write her well.
Thanks for reading this far and if anything strikes you, anything at all, please leave me a review. I'd love to hear what you like or don't like. It's tremendously helpful and let's me create a better story. Thanks!
Personal note to 'Me' - yes, I do have a volume of Lord of the Rings that contains the entire trilogy. It's paperback (read: cheap, like retailing under $20) and was purchased at Border books. I've also seen it at Barnes and Noble.
Disclaimer: I so don't own the Gilmore Girls.
Get ready folks. The literati Olympics are about to begin!
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The water is hot, near scalding. I stand under it, letting it beat on my shoulders, my back. I've washed twice, hair and body, hoping to rid myself of all traces of last night that might still be clinging to me. It didn't work, not exactly, but I feel better anyway. My skin is bright pink from the heat and my fingertips are wrinkled. I suppose that means it's time to get out of the shower and face the day. One last time I turn into the heavy stream, feeling the stinging prickle of the water as it hits my face. Turning it off, I catch my breath and climb out of the shower.
The steam filled room is comforting and I dry myself slowly. I want to see if I look different now but the mirror is a mask of fog and condensation. I wipe it with one hand, pushing aside the clinging mist to reveal its reflective surface. Staring at myself, I see that the puffiness in both my eyes and face has receded, probably melted by the heat. Definitely a good sign. Yes, I look better. More importantly, I feel better, cleaner inside and out. I allow myself a half smile, inching the corners of my mouth up before I lean over to wrap my hair in a towel.
Rising up, a pang of guilt slices through me as I wonder how Dean is doing this morning. Probably not great, I conclude. Sweet Dean who is all wrong for me. My mind involuntarily drifts to Jess who is, at least in the eyes of this town, probably all wrong for me too. I can't help it though, something about him feels decidedly un-wrong. I think about the way his eyes search mine and how he seems to know what I'm thinking, even when I'm not sure myself. He must be at work by now, helping Luke. I picture him scowling through the diner, taking orders, filling coffee cups. I'm seized by a crazy urge to write his name in the mirror fog just to see what it would look like there, how the letters would fit in my space. I shake it off by brushing my teeth.
Opening the bathroom door, I'm greeted by the wonderful aroma of coffee, which means two things - I can get my first fix of the day and mom's awake. Tightening my robe around me, I wander into the kitchen.
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Despite the winter season, the Gilmore kitchen is bathed in sunlight. The elder Gilmore looks up and smiles warmly at her daughter.
"Morning sweetie. Feeling better?" Lorelai greets Rory.
"Mmmm," Rory responds, reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.
"Nothing like a 2-hour shower to start the day."
"Yep. I'm all prune-y," Rory yawns, lifting up her palms up for her mother's inspection.
"Like a geezer's dream. So. . . How do you feel about going to Lukes?"
"Oh. . . Umm. . ." Rory hesitates.
"Relax. You just broke up with him, like, five minutes ago. Not even the Stars Hollow grapevine works that fast," Lorelai reasons with her. "It will be like when Julia Roberts broke up with Benjamin Bratt and no one even knew it until she married that other guy."
"Didn't Benjamin get married first?"
"I thought Julia did."
"I don't remember."
"Well, my point is, unless Dean married someone else between the time of your breakup last night and breakfast this morning, I doubt anyone else will even have heard about it."
Their conversation is interrupted by a knock at the front door. Both women look at each other, puzzled.
"Are you expecting someone?" Lorelai asks.
"No. You?"
"No. Quick, grab the squirt guns," Lorelai commands. "I'm getting a Jehovah's Witnesses vibe."
"The squirt guns have been missing since the Labor Day parade of 2001."
"Ah yes. One of our finer water moments. I'll never forget the look on Kirk's face when we ambushed him. Hey, that's something we can do today. Buy new squirt guns! We should get one of those water balloon launchers too."
The visitor knocks again.
"Maybe you should answer the door first," Rory suggests.
"No way! You get it."
"I'm not dressed," Rory states, gesturing to her robe. "You're dressed, therefore you should answer the door."
"Fine," Lorelai concedes. "But if this is anyone wanting to talk to me about my personal salvation, I'm cooking breakfast for you and forcing you to eat it."
"You wouldn't!"
"Paybacks, my child," Lorelai taunts raising her eyebrows, "are indeed a bitch."
Lorelai opens the front door and greets the person standing on the porch.
"Babette," Lorelai chirps. "Hey."
"Hello dear," Babette answers, pushing past her and walking straight to Rory. "Oh Rory, honey," she coos, concern etched on her face as she puts a hand on Rory's shoulder. "How are you holding up?" Turning to Lorelai, she says, "She's not even dressed yet. It's worse than I expected."
"What are you talking about?" Rory questions, confused.
"Well, I baked you this coffee cake. I know how much you girls like coffee," Babette responds, walking into the kitchen and setting a Tupperware container on the counter. "It ain't much but times like these are so trying for teenage girls."
"Uh. . . Times like what?" Lorelai questions.
"Well, breakups," Babette states as if she's explaining herself to a 2-year old. To Rory she says, "I know you loved Dean honey, but things will get better. Heartbreak doesn't last forever. In a year or two, you won't even think about it everyday."
"Oh my God!" Rory exclaims, looking right at Lorelai. "Dean got married!"
"Did he?" Babette questions excitedly.
"Wow," Lorelai states, amazement obvious in her voice. "Score one for the Stars Hollow grapevine."
Reeling, Rory bolts into her bedroom.
Lorelai sighs.
"Babette, Rory is fine," she explains. "She's actually the one who broke up with Dean."
"Oh! That's not what I heard."
"Well, you heard wrong."
"She's OK, then?"
"Mostly," Lorelai states. "At least, we're not at that bring-food-over- because-I-can't-leave-her-side-long-enough-to-toast-her-a-poptart level of trauma. In fact, if you want to take your coffee cake back, I'm sure she'd understand."
"Don't be silly, honey. You girls enjoy it! I gotta go call Patty anyways."
"You do that," Lorelai responds flatly, opening the front door so Babette can exit.
Closing the door, Lorelai makes her way to Rory's room. Knocking gently, she pushes the door open to find Rory in her bed with the covers pulled over her head.
"Is she gone?" Rory moans.
"She just left," Lorelai responds, sitting on Rory's bed.
"Change in plans."
"OK, fill me in."
"I'm going to stay right here all day long. The wallowing officially begins now."
"Or, you could come to Lukes with me."
"I really need to count the threads in this sheet. I've been meaning to do that. Are these Egyptian cotton?"
"Or, you could come to Lukes with me."
"This is the perfect opportunity to hone my henna tattooing skills. I'm thinking one would look nice circling my belly button. What should I go with, Elvis or Beavis?"
"Or, you could come to Lukes with me."
"I should stay home and practice my yodeling. It's true what they say, if you don't yodel everyday, you lose your edge."
"Or-" Lorelai begins.
"I think I have that rare projectile form of leprosy. Probably I shouldn't be around people."
"You know what cures that?"
Pulling the sheet off her head, Rory looks at her mother. "What?"
"Pancakes and Luke's coffee."
Rory rolls her eyes.
"Really, I just read about it in the New England Journal of Medicine. They're calling it the newest miracle cure. Johns Hopkins is sending a team of pathologists to Luke's Diner to study his pancake-coffee leprosy treatment."
"Everybody knows mom," Rory states plaintively.
"Yeah. I think they do."
"I can't stand the thought of all those people talking about me, feeling sorry for me."
"Look on the bright side, we could wind up with lots more coffee cake."
Rory pulls the sheet back over her head.
"Honey, if everyone knows, then they know. Hiding in your bedroom isn't going to change that. Postponing facing people just means living with the dread of it longer. If you come out with me now, you can get it over with and this will blow away."
Rory peeps out from under the sheet. Her eyes look unconvinced.
"Are you sorry you broke up with Dean?" Lorelai asks.
"No."
"Well, then you're going to have to live with your decision and face the residents of Stars Hollow eventually. You can either rip the band-aid off slowly and painfully, or rip it off quickly and painfully. It's your choice," Lorelai reasons.
"You're kinda making sense. Seriously, I think I may have a fever. Feel my head," Rory commands pulling Lorelai's hand to her forehead.
"Nope. No fever. However, that bruise is going away."
"Well, that's one good thing."
"That's the spirit! Keep looking on the bright side and get dressed. We leave in 15 minutes."
.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
.
Mom and I walk into Luke's Diner, making the little bell ring. It feels as though time pauses temporarily while everyone looks at me. The world slows, the diner patrons stare in slow motion, I blink. In a heartbeat, time is normal again. I'm probably just imagining it but my face reddens anyway. Irritated and feeling exposed, I stare at my feet.
"Counter or table?" mom asks me.
"Table," I answer quickly, vehemently. The thought of being on a high stool in clear view at the front of the diner is, to put it mildly, unappealing.
Mom looks at me oddly and I mumble, "Definitely a table."
We sit and Luke appears as if by magic with two cups of coffee.
"Oh wow," mom says. "I didn't even have to beg or anything. I had a great speech planned too."
"Save it for tomorrow," Luke advises her. To me he says, softer, "How are you doing?"
Instantly, I realize that Luke knows about Dean. 'He's trying to be kind,' I remind myself while I desperately try not to connect the dots that lead from Luke's knowledge of my relationship's demise to what his nephew may know, must know.
"I'm fine," I tell him, meeting his eyes. "Really."
"What can I get you for breakfast?" he asks.
"She needs pancakes for her leprosy," mom informs him.
"Right," Luke answers, so used to my mom's non sequiturs that he doesn't even try to figure out what she's talking about. A flood for affection for him rises in me and I grin at him. Mom notices.
"Pancakes for me too, please," she says, smiling broadly and gratefully at Luke.
Momentarily struck by the expression on her face, Luke looks startled but recovers quickly, fumbling with the coffee pot and muttering "coming right up." If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was blushing.
"Coffee without begging. You should break up with Dean more often."
"Mom!"
"Sorry sorry sorry sorry," she says, her eyes wide, apologetic.
"Rory," Kirk's voice calls to me. "I've been waiting for you to get here."
"Hi Kirk," I say, unenthusiastically.
"I'm sorry to hear about your breakup with Dean. I brought you this book from my personal collection. I think it will help ease your transition back into the single life," he says, handing me a well-worn paperback. "I find this one quite useful."
My stomach lurches just thinking about what kind of reading material Kirk would favor but eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me and I take the book from him.
"What to do with your life when you are unloved," I read, looking at the book's cover.
"Yes," Kirk intones. "There is a particularly interesting passage about dying alone that I've earmarked for you. You should probably read that chapter first-"
"Kirk," mom interrupts. "You know, I was at Doose's market yesterday and overheard Taylor talking about how he'd like you to shoot a commercial for him."
"Really? A commercial?" Kirk asks suddenly disinterested in me.
"Oh yeah, to advertise the grocery store. Something about expanding marketing efforts to increase his customer base. I didn't get the details but I gather he's thinking about asking you to direct his TV commercial. He was impressed by the talent you displayed in your movie."
"Well, it's gratifying to know that someone in this town appreciates my art. I'd better get right over there and talk to him about it."
"You know what they say. . . No time like the present."
"Do you think he'd dress like a super hero?" Kirk asks mom. "Because I have some ideas."
"Oh, you should definitely ask him about that," mom answers in mock seriousness.
Kirk leaves without another look in my direction. His book rests sadly on our table
"Mean!" I say smiling, at mom.
"You're welcome," she winks.
Suddenly, there he is. How long has he been in the room? Did he overhear Kirk? Inhaling sharply, I feel my heart skip a beat as I watch Jess set plates of eggs, bacon, and sausage on a table near me. I'm openly staring at him, which is unlike me but I can't tear my eyes away. He glances at me briefly, his expression unchanging, his eyes, unreadable.
I keep staring as Mom darts off on one of those tangents that she's so prone to, the tangents that I adore. I try to follow the thread of her conversation, give her my attention but it's impossible and eventually I only pretend to listen. Jess retreats into the kitchen and I finally gain control over my faculties. I have to stop this soon or everyone will know what's in my mind just by looking at my face, including him. I shut my eyes briefly, marveling at the astonishing control he seems to have over me already. Staring at my hands seems safer so that's what I do. All I'm capable of right now is feeling the nearness of Jess' presence and the butterflies in my stomach.
.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
.
God, it must be true. I heard the talk but didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. Rory and Dean break up? Things like that just don't happen here in the Magic Kingdom. This is the kind of place where the homecoming queen dates the captain of the football team and guys like me date girls like Shane. Yet, all morning people have been 'poor Dean-ing' and 'they seemed so happy, it can't be true-ing'. I tuned them out, certain that the rumor mill had gotten it wrong this time. Whoever said there are no secrets in small towns was probably from Stars Hollow.
Not that this changes anything for me. I mean, it's not like she left Dean so she could be with me. If I were anyone else, the intensity of her stare just now would lead me to conclude that she has some sort of interest in me. The thing is, I'm not anyone else. I'm a city boy and I know you can't trust that female shit. It's ridiculous. Rory Gilmore like me? I don't have that kind of luck. Still, my mind tortures me, telling me that she must feel the same electric current I feel when our eyes meet. The current that makes me want to crush her to me in all of her innocence and kiss her, fiercely, deeply. Leave her burning and enlightened. I want to see her eyes glaze over and hear a breathy sound form in the back of her throat. I imagine feeling her tremble when my hands land on her hips, slide to her back, pull her close. Her small, firm body pressed against mine, her fingers in my hair. A guttural sound threatens to emerge from me but I swallow it.
What the hell is wrong with me? Of all the girls I've known in my life, why is it the small town virginal princess that affects me this way? This game is not new to me. I've been with women, more than I can count. I fucking know better than to let myself get pulled in so completely and yet, I did it anyway. Here I stand. . . her fool. How has one kiss from her gotten me so completely under her spell, left me at her mercy? I'm in the palm of her goddamn hand and I hate it. Damn her books and the way she reads. Damn her sarcastic wit. Damn her purity. Damn the way she challenges me, ties me up in knots. Damn her blue eyes. Damn the way she makes me want her.
Oh God, she's so beautiful.
I'm weak, defeated, but I don't want her to see it. Not today.
'Still,' I think, the corners of my mouth tugging slightly upwards, 'she did break up with Bag Boy.' It's a start.
I pull myself together and emerge from the kitchen in time to see Luke setting their food in front of them. Rory is watching me, spying, always spying. This game feels familiar too and I pretend not to notice. Accepting my assigned role, I stay behind the counter and brew a fresh pot of coffee.
It's apparently Miss Patty's turn to console Rory. Can't these people see that she just wants to be left alone? Privacy is an undervalued commodity in this town. Good thing because it's in short supply. I pick up a rag and wipe down the counter so I can get closer to their table. Yeah, I'm eavesdropping. So what?
". . . and I was so upset that I stopped eating. Unfortunately, I mainly lost weight in my chest. It was just terrible, my costumes were too loose and in the middle of a performance at the Tropicana in Miami, my top slipped down and I flashed Tito Puente," Miss Patty rambles.
Oh no! Bad visual. I bend down so no one can see the look of horror that has just overtaken my face.
"Really Miss Patty," Rory interrupts. "I appreciate your empathy but I'm fine. I'm the one who broke up with Dean. It was my idea."
"Of course it was, dear," I hear Miss Patty say. She sounds patronizing and my heart goes out to Rory. This town doesn't want her to be anything but a powerless little girl.
"It was!" Rory protests. "Why is that so hard for everyone to believe? I broke up with Dean. Me! I did it! He did not break up with me this time. I was the break-er-upper, he was the break-ee."
OK, she's making up words now. She's either really upset or she's channeling Lorelai. I'm gonna go with upset.
I hear Lorelai saying something softly, I can't quite make out her words but I'm sure they're designed to calm Rory down. It doesn't seem to be working as Rory appears agitated, fidgety. Hell, I think it would be good for Rory to get pissed, to stand up for herself. 'Don't take that crap from them Rory,' I think grinning to myself.
Miss Patty walks away and Rory shoots me a look. I focus on my wiping but can tell that her eyes are lingering on me. A visual caress from Rory Gilmore? It'll do for now.
Inspiration striking, I whip out my order pad, rip one of the pages off and flip it over. Pulling my pen from behind my ear, I write a short message on it. I fold it up and wait for my opportunity. It comes in the form of Luke.
He walks out to their table to refill their coffee mugs and engages Lorelai in that flirt-banter thing they do. 'Uncle Luke's got it bad,' I think as I approach their table.
Pausing briefly, I lean slightly and press the folded paper into Rory's hand. Startled, she looks up at me. I hold her gaze for a moment before her fingers close around the note. In just that instant, her fingers brush against mine and I feel their heat as tiny fireworks explode just under my skin. I'm gone as quickly as I came, continuing my stride to a recently vacated table that I start busing.
I feel her eyes on me again but ignore her completely, walking back into the kitchen.
.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
.
My hand is on fire from his touch and it shakes slightly. Dean and I had entire make out sessions that didn't leave me as affected as one touch on my hand from Jess. I take the paper he's given me and slip it in my pocket. Glancing around the diner, I see that no one has noticed our exchange. Jess is like vapor, like water. When he wants to be, he is utterly invisible.
My pager goes off and I pull it out of my coat pocket.
"What's it say?" mom asks me, her mouth full of pancake.
"It says. 'Church. Breakup!? Music therapy. Noon. Here.'"
"Lane?"
"Who else could it be?"
"Is that some sort of secret code?"
"No. She's telling me she's stuck in Korean church all day, it is Sunday after all. She's heard about my breakup." Pausing I look up at my mother. "How do you think she heard about the breakup if she's been in church all day?" I ask, puzzled.
"Lane is a phenomenon. She probably has a video surveillance network covering the entire town."
"I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, she's pulled out some CDs that she thinks will make me feel better and I should meet her at her house at noon to pick them up."
"Wow. She's getting pretty verbose in her pages these days."
"It's almost noon now," I reply looking at my watch. Shoving the last bite of pancake in my mouth and draining my coffee mug, I say to mom, "Is it OK if I-"
"Go."
"Thanks," I grin.
I shrug on my coat and bolt out of the door, happy to have survived my first post-Dean public appearance. I breathe deeply and the cool air fills my lungs. As I walk past the diner's front window, I feel his gaze upon me. I turn slightly to verify this sensation with my eyes and discover that I was right. His eyes hold mine and he smirks, just barely though. I return his grin and keep walking.
As soon as I'm out of sight, my hand fishes into my pocket and pulls out his note. I read it slowly to savor every word. It says,
'I believe in mess, tears, pain, self-abasement, loss of self-respect, nakedness. Not caring doesn't seem much different from not loving. -Tom Stoppard, The Real Thing.'
I feel my knees get weak. Somewhat lightheaded, I stop and grab a pole to steady myself. Clutching his note, I read it again.
'Jess,' I think. 'You are going to be trouble.'
.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
.
"Luke!" Jess shouts. "I'm taking my break."
"15 minutes, Jess," Luke calls out to Jess' departing back as he slips out the front door.
Lost in thought, Jess heads to the park across the street and slouches on a bench. The town troubadour wanders by with his guitar, singing an old Credence Clearwater Revival song.
'Crazy fucking town,' Jess thinks as he lights a cigarette.
Rory is on her way back from Lane's house with an overfilled sack of CDs ranging from maudlin angst-ridden music to thrash rock. Rory grins as she remembers Lane slipping her the bag quickly from its hiding place under the Kim front porch. 'Music for every possible breakup mood,' Lane had assured her. A quick hug later and she was gone, back to Korean Sunday school.
Rory feels unsettled, like a caged bird that, when set free, hangs around its cage because it doesn't know what else to do. On impulse, she decides not to head home yet but instead wander wherever her feet choose to take her. It was an unusual feeling, this newfound freedom. It coursed through her veins powerfully. She felt older, freer. Claiming her liberty for the first time in, well, years really, she walks more confidently, her destination simply 'someplace interesting'.
'It doesn't get more interesting than that,' she muses spotting Jess in the town square. She makes her way to his bench.
"Why is it that every time I see you lately you're smoking?" she asks, sitting next to him.
"You saw me earlier today in the diner and I wasn't smoking," he counters, smirking at her.
"Only because Luke doesn't let you."
Jess looks at her out of the corner of his eye but says nothing, studying her.
"Don't expect me to visit you in the hospital when you have emphysema," she informs him.
"You know, if you keep talking about my health, I might start thinking that you actually care about me."
Rory colors and decides to change the subject.
"So. . . Tom Stoppard. I didn't know you read plays."
"There are lots of things you don't know about me," he answers evasively, exhaling smoke.
"OK, for now, let's start with your favorite Stoppard play."
"Hmm. . ." he pauses, stubbing out his cigarette. "For it's commentary on the ordinary human condition, The Real Thing. For humor, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. For angst and loss of innocence, Empire of the Sun. For sheer brilliance, Shakespeare in Love."
"That's kind of a cop-out, picking four instead of just one."
"That's the most honest answer I can give you."
"Well," she admits. "Of those, I've only read The Real Thing. I've seen the movies made from the other three but never actually read the screenplays."
"You should."
"Maybe I will."
"What do you remember of The Real Thing?" Jess asks.
"Wow, a lot of stuff about truth and love."
"Specifically, what?" he presses.
"Well, that love, real love, is about knowing and being known. That knowledge of another person, not carnal knowledge but really knowing someone when their mask is off and they're just. . . himself or herself, that's what it's about."
Jess regards her thoughtfully. Rory feels compelled to continue.
"I don't remember it specifically but there's a scene in The Real Thing where the husband asks the wife if he's cheating, which, you know, she isn't, but she's been distracted by someone else. He guesses at what she's feeling and describes it almost exactly. The passage is beautiful."
"'A small quickening. The room responds slightly to being entered. Like a raised blind. Nothing intended, and a long way from doing anything, but you catch the glint of being someone else's possibility.'" Jess quotes.
"Oh my God, that's it," she breathes. She marvels that, despite her poor description, he knew just what she was talking about. 'How is this possible?' she wonders, reeling.
Jess looks away, feeling a similar sensation of connection to her.
"How are you?" he questions.
Rory groans. She is instantly snapped back to the present.
"If one more person asks me how I'm doing since breaking up with Dean, I swear I'll scream."
"Yeah, but the difference is, I actually care."
"So the 700 other people who've asked me that question today, don't care about my answer?"
"I guess on some level they do, but I think mainly they're just nosy."
"I'm fine," she sighs, fixing her eyes on him.
"Good," he smiles.
They're quiet for a minute.
"I should get back to the diner," he says, standing.
"Yeah, I should go home," she says, standing too.
"I'll see you around."
"Yeah. . ."
Jess turns and strides back into the diner. Rory watches him walk. Once inside, he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack. She is glued to her spot, staring through the diner's front window, fixated. He looks back at her and meets her gaze. Caught, she snaps out of her stupor. Flushing deeply, she turns and runs home.
.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
.
A/N: I was going to include the scene with Lane but the chapter was getting too long. Lane will enter the story later if I can figure out how to write her well.
Thanks for reading this far and if anything strikes you, anything at all, please leave me a review. I'd love to hear what you like or don't like. It's tremendously helpful and let's me create a better story. Thanks!