A/N: Hey Everyone, I don't even know where to start. I can't believe
that: 1) this story has over 100 reviews and 2) the quality of the reviews
you guys leave for me is so amazingly good! To all of you who kindly say
that this story is getting better, I contend that it's only because you
leave such great feedback. I am humbled and happy. Thank you so much!
As promised, Lane is featured prominently in this chapter. I hope you like it.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
Without breaking stride, Rory darts inside the Gilmore house, kicking the front door shut with her foot. Entering her bedroom, she tosses her book bag in a corner and collapses on her bed. She is dazed, bewildered, shaken. A continuous mantra thunders through her head, a simple repeating, 'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. . .'
Rolling onto her back, she grabs a spare pillow and hugs it tightly to her chest. Shutting her eyes, she tries to slow the hammering of her heart, tries to steady her ragged breathing. Her attempt is futile as the amount of adrenalin rocketing through her makes calmness an elusive, impossible goal. As a crescendo of emotion crashes, she rocks rhythmically from side to side.
'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. . .'
Desperate to distract herself, Rory reaches onto her nightstand and grabs the most easily accessible book from the top of her To-Be-Read stack. Her goal - simply to find peace, to quiet the unsettling emotions so alien to her by retreating into the familiar, reassuring world of words on a page. She glances briefly at the book, Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, before opening to the page marked with her Hello Kitty bookmarker. She begins reading.
.
"I mind how we once lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare- stript heart."
.
'OK,' she thinks. 'That is not helpful.' Flipping ahead several pages, she settles herself into her pillows and tries again.
.
"This is the press of a bashful hand, this is the float and odor of hair,
This is the touch of my lips to yours, this is the murmur of yearning,
This is the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,
This is the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again."
.
'Really, really not helping,' she thinks. Her eyebrows knit together and she takes a deep breath. Opening to another random page, she reads.
.
"Through me forbidden voices,
Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil,
Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd."
.
Slamming the book shut, Rory drops it onto the floor as though it's a flame that burns her hand. The book springs open upon impact with the hardwood. Rory listens to the lonely sound of the book's pages turning, flipping quietly.
Something inside of her feels like it's breaking. A persistent idea that started during her trek home forcefully pushes its way into her consciousness. Understanding dawns on her suddenly as she stills. This new radical thought commands her full attention with the authority of a truth that cannot be ignored - the source of her anxiety isn't Jess, it's her reaction to Jess. For the first time in her life, Rory recognizes this emotion and can call it by its name - fear.
A single tear trickles down her cheek, which she wipes away with the back of her hand.
'Is that what this is all about?' she wonders. 'Am I afraid?' Her memory tumbles back to thoughts of Dean and Tristan, thoughts of innocent kisses and sweet declarations of love, which caused similar panicked moments. Chuckling softly, Rory rolls her eyes, momentarily lost in her reflections. Admittedly, fear is a dragon that chased her through adolescence, breathing fire on her back, snapping at her heels, causing her to run. However, comparing the experiences she cannot escape the inevitable conclusion.
Her feelings for Jess are in a category by themselves. Jess is want and need and intelligence and desire and funny and lust and understand and ache and connection and burn, burn, burn. She wonders if this is what Walt Whitman was trying to tell her.
'I never felt this way about anyone else,' she thinks. She never wanted to melt into Dean or Tristan, never had the crazy urge to memorize the flecks of color in their eyes, never sought out their company, never felt their silent presence before seeing them, never wondered what their hands would feel like on her skin, never wanted to taste their fingers.
A vision of Jess licking strawberry donut filling off his thumb floats in front of her eyes. Turning slightly, she moans into her pillow.
This is definitely different. This is definitely new. This is definitely scary.
Lorelai stands in Rory's doorway watching her carefully. "Rory, are you OK?" she asks.
"Oh, yeah," Rory answers in the best imitation of nonchalance that she can muster. She rolls onto her back and makes eye contact with her mother.
"Really? Cause you look very not OK."
"No," Rory lies. "I'm fine."
"Uh huh," Lorelai smiles, fully entering Rory's room. "Cause every time you're fine, you lie on your bed and groan like that. It's how I know you've had a good day."
Rory looks at her mother plaintively.
"Want me to guess?" Lorelai questions excitedly. "OK, you've been perfecting a synchronized swimming routine and only just learned that it's not an Olympic event anymore."
"Mom-"
"I think that would upset anyone, honey."
"Please-"
"No? Did you secretly purchase a Brittney Spears' CD after actually liking one of her songs you heard on the radio only to have it discovered by Lane who is coming over later to perform an exorcism?"
"Sacrilege! I can't believe you said that!"
"Too far, huh? OK. . . Are you having an appendicitis attack?"
"Well," Rory admits, "I'm definitely having an attack of something but I don't think it involves my appendix."
"OK, good, that narrows it down for me. Let me take a wild guess. . . Are you having an attack of teenage hormones over a certain dark haired brooding New York City diner boy?"
Moving her hands to cover her face, Rory groans.
Lorelai grins ruefully. "Yeah," she says, "That's what I thought."
"I think I'm losing my mind," Rory moans from behind her hands.
Sighing, Lorelai says, "How bad is it?"
Rory peeks out between her fingers and surveys her mother.
"Give it to me straight," Lorelai urges. "I can take it."
"Are you sure?"
"Not really, but tell me anyways."
"Well," Rory begins, removing her hands from her face. "I was at the diner and, umm. . . I had some jelly donut on my face and-"
"Ooh!" Lorelai interrupts. "Did you bring me one?"
"No, sorry. I kinda left in a hurry," Rory apologizes.
"OK, you're forgiven this one time. Continue."
"Well, Jess saw the jelly donut filling stuck to my lip and he sort of leaned over and-"
"Licked it off with his tongue?!" Lorelai finishes for her.
"No!" Rory states quickly. Thinking it over, she sighs, "There's always next time though."
"Uh huh. Sorry. Continue."
"He leaned over and. . . you know. . . sorta scraped it off with his thumb and then, umm. . . he kind of. . . put his thumb in his mouth-"
"Stop!" Lorelai commands. "That's all the detail I can handle for one day. I think I have the basic gist of it."
Rory bites her lower lip and looks at her mother speculatively, waiting.
"Let's see if I've got this straight. Jess touched your face and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you?"
"Yes." Rory says.
"And the butterflies that normally behave themselves by limiting their activity to your stomach decided to mutiny and flutter all over your body?
"Yes!"
"And out of nowhere, the bones in your legs suddenly turned into Jell-O and you thought you might collapse?"
"Yes!"
"And if he would just collapse with you, the world would make perfect sense?"
"Yes!" Rory cries, "That's it exactly!"
"Oh God," Lorelai says closing her eyes. "Scoot over."
Rory slides to the middle of her bed making room for Lorelai who lies on her back next to her daughter.
"You've got it bad," Lorelai sighs.
"You think so?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"I was thinking that I only have it medium. Actually, a smidge to the left of medium, more like medium-light."
"I hate to break it to you but if you're already at the air-sucked-out-of- my-lungs-spaghetti-legs-collapsing stage, you've officially got it bad."
"Well, it doesn't matter," Rory says confidently. "I can handle it."
Lorelai laughs. "No babe, you really can't."
"Sure, I can."
"Oh honey. . . you know I love you and I'm not trying to be patronizing but you have to trust me when I say that you have no idea what you're talking about. I've been trying to explain this to you for months. These emotions that you're feeling, this stuff that's happening to you. . . it isn't 'handle-able'. Not in the way that you think it is. No one in the whole world has ever come out of where you are right now unchanged."
"But this is different."
"No, it isn't. It's the same story since the beginning of time. Passion makes people do crazy things, stupid things, things they never dreamed themselves capable of-"
"Mom, I know where you're going with this and Jess isn't out to corrupt me. That's not going to happen."
"Jess is only half of the equation here and frankly, I'm not even talking about him. This is about you."
"I'm not going to morph into Pamela Anderson Lee."
"Well, that's a huge relief."
"Don't you trust me?"
"You know I do. I'm just worried that you're not prepared for what's about to happen to you, what's already happening to you."
"I can't stay a baby forever, mom."
"Sure you can. You're just not trying hard enough."
Their conversation is interrupted by a weight hitting the bed. Both women look over to find Lane flopped on the other side of Rory. Mimicking Rory and Lorelai, Lane also lies flat on her back.
"I have no rock and roll clothes," Lane states sourly.
"Hey Lane," Rory greets.
"Did you bring your crucifix and holy water for Rory's exorcism?" Lorelai questions.
"Actually, no. Should I run home and get them?" Lane responds.
"You have holy water?" Rory asks her friend.
"Have you met my mother?" Lane asks rhetorically.
"Enough said," Rory concedes.
"Seriously, how can I achieve rock and roll greatness when I dress like a Quaker?"
"That definitely makes it harder," Rory admits.
"I can't think of one single Amish rock star," Lorelai agrees.
"I mean. . . did Terry Chimes ever look in his closet and think 'I have nothing to wear'?"
Rory steals a look at her mother. "Terry Chimes?" she asks.
"Drummer for The Clash," Lorelai responds.
"Ah," Rory nods.
"Those boots that Keith Moon wore? I'm pretty sure they were his," Lane continues.
Rory and Lorelai exchange another look.
"The Who," Lorelai says.
"I bet Maureen Tucker's mother did not buy her clothes for her," Lane continues, on a roll.
"The Velvet Underground," Rory offers.
"Lou Reed's drummer was a woman?" Lorelai questions, surprised.
"Uh huh, they called her 'Moe'," Rory informs her.
"Take Charlie Watts for instance. . ." Lane rants.
"The Rolling Stones," Lorelai says.
"Or Stewart Copeland. . . "
"The Police," Rory supplies.
"Or John Bonham. . . "
"Led Zeppelin," Rory offers.
"Choked on his own vomit," Lorelai informs her.
"Or Danny Carey. . ."
"OK. . . I'm stumped," Lorelai admits.
"Tool," Rory answers.
"Ah," breathes Lorelai.
"They all have the classic rock and roll rebel look. And don't even get me started on the trend setting and drumming genius of Roger Taylor. . ."
"You were influenced by Queen?" Lorelai interrupts.
"Who wasn't?" Lane responds.
"She has a good point," Rory says to her mother.
"It's useless." Lane sighs. "If you can't dress the part, get out of the kitchen. Or, leave the band. You know what I mean."
"Do you want to borrow some clothes?" Rory asks her best friend.
"Can I?" Lane asks.
"Of course you can. Although mom's closet is a better bet for finding the edgy stuff."
"Yea!" Lane cheers. Pausing momentarily, she continues, "OK. So, why are we laying on the bed staring at the ceiling?"
"We're trying to reach new Zen-like levels of calm," Lorelai says.
"We're thinking," Rory clarifies.
"Oh. What are we thinking about?" Lane asks.
"How to get Luke to send Jess back to New York without having him hate me like he did all last summer," Lorelai supplies.
"Mom!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Lorelai intones. "Was I the only one thinking about that? My bad."
"Am I missing something?" Lane asks, confused. "Why do we want Jess to leave Stars Hollow?"
"Because Rory has the hots for him and therefore he must be banished," Lorelai answers.
"What?!" Lane coughs, choking.
"I do not have the hots for Jess," Rory objects.
"Yes she does," Lorelai counters. "Bad."
"If I did have the hots for Jess, and I'm not saying that I do, it would not be in the category of bad. It would be more in the category of medium- light."
"You have the medium-light hots for Jess?" Lane questions.
"No," Lorelai answers for her. "She has the big bad blazing red hots for Jess."
"I do not," Rory protests.
Lane and Lorelai both observe her quietly.
"OK, maybe a little bit," Rory volunteers.
Silence settles on the room.
Sighing, Rory throws her hands in the air. "Alright! Maybe a lot."
"She's in heat," Lorelai concludes.
"I can't believe it. I'm out of commission for one week and my best friend goes into heat for a guy that I thought we were supposed to be hating."
"Where have you been, by the way?" Lorelai asks.
"Grounded."
"What for this time?" Lorelai queries.
"Someone told an off color knock-knock joke when Mama and I were at Doose's Market and I almost smiled. I really tried not to but I think the corners of my mouth inched up for a millisecond or so, which was just enough time for Mama to sense my impure, un-Christian thoughts. I had to spend last week translating Pilgrim's Progress into Korean. I challenge you to find a Korean word for 'expostulate'."
"I don't think I even know an English word for 'expostulate'," Lorelai muses.
"Wait a minute," Lane interjects. Looking at Rory, she asks, "How did you get from zero to white hot molten lust in just one week?"
"It's kind of been brewing for awhile," Rory admits sheepishly.
"How long is awhile?"
"Since before I went to Washington."
"Wow. That explains a lot."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I barely told myself."
"It's OK."
"No, it's not OK. You're my best friend and I'm supposed to tell you things."
"Hey, don't worry about it. This stuff is all new and confusing to me too. Trust me, I battle my own white hot Dave lust everyday."
"Mama Kim just got a pain in her heart and she doesn't know why," Lorelai smiles.
"You can confide in me though," Lane continues. "You know that, right?"
"I do," Rory answers. "That goes both ways."
"Yeah, I know. So, exactly what are you going to do about Jess?"
"OK, I hate to be the one who ruins the Hallmark moment we seem to be having, but there is one not-so-small detail that we're overlooking," Lorelai interjects.
"What?" Rory asks.
"Shane," Lorelai replies softly.
Every object in Rory's bedroom feels like it has somehow instantly jumped ten feet away from her and she's left lying in a void. Sonic waves created by the wake of the shifted reality pulse against her. The waves are painful and pounding, full of sound and fury and nothing tangible that she can grasp to stabilize her squeezed heart. She feels suddenly irrevocably alone. Tear spring to her eyes.
"Oh mom," she whispers. "I forgot all about Shane."
"I think I have scoop. . ." Lane states slowly and evenly.
"Scoop?" Rory questions in a small voice.
"Yes, I am known for my scoop. It's one of my gifts, but this is particularly timely. . ." Lane continues.
"Please enlighten us," Lorelai entreats.
"OK. . . When I was a kid, I used to keep a list of all the swear words I heard-" Lane begins.
"Why?" Lorelai interrupts.
"Because I knew there would come a day when I would be able to curse and I wanted to be prepared."
"Oh, good thinking. How did you keep the list hidden from Mama Kim?" Lorelai asks with interest.
"It was in the days before I discovered music, or at least before I had any cash to buy CDs. I stored it under the loose floorboards in my room with all my Juicy Fruit gum."
"You hid juicy fruit gum?"
"I had to. You see, juicy fruit is homosexual gum, or as Mama likes to refer to it, 'the gum of sodomites.' It wasn't allowed in our house."
"Juicy fruit is gay gum?"
"Yes, obviously preferred by the homosexual community. Mama believes that homosexuality is contagious, you know, like chicken pox. If we, the heterosexuals, start partaking of homosexual products we will catch homosexuality and become homosexuals ourselves. Then, there will be nothing left but hordes of gay people roaming the streets."
"You mean, hordes of gay people roaming the streets chewing gum."
"Yes."
"I think I'm missing the Shane connection," Rory interjects.
"Oh right. Today after school, I came out the west doors, like I always do, and crossed paths with Jess, Stars Hollow's newest declared hottie, having the argument of the year with his girlfriend. Well, actually, it was more like a shouting matching and it was more like Shane shouting and Jess trying to pretend like he was interested in what she was saying."
"Shouting about what?" Rory asks.
"Well, Shane was yelling at Jess about breaking up with her and she was pretty upset. In the space of three and a half minutes, she used every single swear word I had written on my list, plus two more that I'm going to have to look up on the internet later."
"Wow. That's kind of impressive," Lorelai observes.
"In a very sad way that acknowledges my baser instincts, I have to agree with you," Lane says.
"So, Jess broke up with Shane?" Rory questions, her voice more hopeful.
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
Rory smiles broadly as the three women fall into silence, still lying on Rory's bed.
"I'm hungry," Lorelai says.
"Me too," Rory concurs.
"That is the biggest cobweb I've ever seen," Lane observes staring at a corner of Rory's room.
"Yeah, I noticed that earlier," Lorelai muses.
"Can we order a pizza or something?" Rory asks.
"That would require getting up off the bed," Lorelai says, stating the obvious.
The three women lapse into silence again.
At length, Lane volunteers, "OK, I'll do it. I haven't been lying here as long as you two have, so it should be easier for me to pry myself off this bed."
Lane stands and walks to the door. Turning back, she asks, "Should I order some cheesy bread too?"
"You have to ask?" Lorelai says.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Lane grins, leaving the room.
Lorelai rolls onto her side and props her head up on her elbow. Looking at Rory she says, "Before the moment passes entirely, can we backtrack a bit?"
"Mom," Rory begins. "Remember when I took care of Michel's car last weekend and you said you owed me? I'm cashing in my I.O.U."
"Uh oh."
"I just want you to promise to give Jess a chance and give me some credit. This doesn't have to be the disaster you envision."
Lorelai groans. "Do you have any idea what you're asking me?"
"I think so. Just trust me mom, I'm not going to rush into anything with Jess. I just need to know that you are not going to freak out if you see me talking to him."
Lorelai makes a small whimpering noise and buries her face in a pillow. When she emerges, she takes a deep breath and says, "OK. BUT. . . and I really really mean this. . . You need to make me a promise too."
"What?" Rory asks cautiously.
"Promise that you will talk to me and tell me what's going on with you and Jess. I don't care what it is. I need to know what you're doing so I can help you stay safe."
"Deal," Rory smiles.
"Pinky swear," Lorelai says.
Rory holds out her hand and the two women lock pinkies.
Lorelai goes first, "I swear that I will give Jess a fair chance, and believe in the ability of my amazingly wonderful daughter, who I love more than life itself, to make good choices."
"And I swear that I will tell you where my head's at where Jess is concerned and let you help me as I try to figure out what the heck I'm doing."
The two women smile at each other. Lorelai leans over and touches her forehead to Rory's.
"Man, do I need coffee," Lorelai says, as she gets up and makes her way to the door.
"Coffee would be great," Rory agrees.
Smiling at her daughter, Lorelai exits the room.
Lost in thought, Rory falls back onto her bed. Curling onto one side, she spies Leaves of Grass on the floor where she dropped it. 'I wonder if Walt has anything else to say to me?' she thinks. Leaning over, she carefully picks up the book, holding her thumb in the page that had fallen open. Rolling onto her back one last time, she reads.
.
"Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
You must travel it for yourself.
It is not far, it is within reach,
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
Shoulder your duds dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth,
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand
on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service to me,
For after we start we never lie by again.
This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven,
And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs,
and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we
be fill'd and satisfied then?
And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.
You are also asking me questions and I hear you,
I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself."
.
"Rory, honey," Lorelai calls. "Pizza's here."
Rory closes the book and places it back on her nightstand. As she walks out of her room, she turns back and looks at the book.
"Thanks Walt," she whispers.
.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
.
A/N: To me, reviews are like strawberry filling in the jelly donut of life.
As promised, Lane is featured prominently in this chapter. I hope you like it.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
Without breaking stride, Rory darts inside the Gilmore house, kicking the front door shut with her foot. Entering her bedroom, she tosses her book bag in a corner and collapses on her bed. She is dazed, bewildered, shaken. A continuous mantra thunders through her head, a simple repeating, 'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. . .'
Rolling onto her back, she grabs a spare pillow and hugs it tightly to her chest. Shutting her eyes, she tries to slow the hammering of her heart, tries to steady her ragged breathing. Her attempt is futile as the amount of adrenalin rocketing through her makes calmness an elusive, impossible goal. As a crescendo of emotion crashes, she rocks rhythmically from side to side.
'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. . .'
Desperate to distract herself, Rory reaches onto her nightstand and grabs the most easily accessible book from the top of her To-Be-Read stack. Her goal - simply to find peace, to quiet the unsettling emotions so alien to her by retreating into the familiar, reassuring world of words on a page. She glances briefly at the book, Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, before opening to the page marked with her Hello Kitty bookmarker. She begins reading.
.
"I mind how we once lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare- stript heart."
.
'OK,' she thinks. 'That is not helpful.' Flipping ahead several pages, she settles herself into her pillows and tries again.
.
"This is the press of a bashful hand, this is the float and odor of hair,
This is the touch of my lips to yours, this is the murmur of yearning,
This is the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,
This is the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again."
.
'Really, really not helping,' she thinks. Her eyebrows knit together and she takes a deep breath. Opening to another random page, she reads.
.
"Through me forbidden voices,
Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil,
Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd."
.
Slamming the book shut, Rory drops it onto the floor as though it's a flame that burns her hand. The book springs open upon impact with the hardwood. Rory listens to the lonely sound of the book's pages turning, flipping quietly.
Something inside of her feels like it's breaking. A persistent idea that started during her trek home forcefully pushes its way into her consciousness. Understanding dawns on her suddenly as she stills. This new radical thought commands her full attention with the authority of a truth that cannot be ignored - the source of her anxiety isn't Jess, it's her reaction to Jess. For the first time in her life, Rory recognizes this emotion and can call it by its name - fear.
A single tear trickles down her cheek, which she wipes away with the back of her hand.
'Is that what this is all about?' she wonders. 'Am I afraid?' Her memory tumbles back to thoughts of Dean and Tristan, thoughts of innocent kisses and sweet declarations of love, which caused similar panicked moments. Chuckling softly, Rory rolls her eyes, momentarily lost in her reflections. Admittedly, fear is a dragon that chased her through adolescence, breathing fire on her back, snapping at her heels, causing her to run. However, comparing the experiences she cannot escape the inevitable conclusion.
Her feelings for Jess are in a category by themselves. Jess is want and need and intelligence and desire and funny and lust and understand and ache and connection and burn, burn, burn. She wonders if this is what Walt Whitman was trying to tell her.
'I never felt this way about anyone else,' she thinks. She never wanted to melt into Dean or Tristan, never had the crazy urge to memorize the flecks of color in their eyes, never sought out their company, never felt their silent presence before seeing them, never wondered what their hands would feel like on her skin, never wanted to taste their fingers.
A vision of Jess licking strawberry donut filling off his thumb floats in front of her eyes. Turning slightly, she moans into her pillow.
This is definitely different. This is definitely new. This is definitely scary.
Lorelai stands in Rory's doorway watching her carefully. "Rory, are you OK?" she asks.
"Oh, yeah," Rory answers in the best imitation of nonchalance that she can muster. She rolls onto her back and makes eye contact with her mother.
"Really? Cause you look very not OK."
"No," Rory lies. "I'm fine."
"Uh huh," Lorelai smiles, fully entering Rory's room. "Cause every time you're fine, you lie on your bed and groan like that. It's how I know you've had a good day."
Rory looks at her mother plaintively.
"Want me to guess?" Lorelai questions excitedly. "OK, you've been perfecting a synchronized swimming routine and only just learned that it's not an Olympic event anymore."
"Mom-"
"I think that would upset anyone, honey."
"Please-"
"No? Did you secretly purchase a Brittney Spears' CD after actually liking one of her songs you heard on the radio only to have it discovered by Lane who is coming over later to perform an exorcism?"
"Sacrilege! I can't believe you said that!"
"Too far, huh? OK. . . Are you having an appendicitis attack?"
"Well," Rory admits, "I'm definitely having an attack of something but I don't think it involves my appendix."
"OK, good, that narrows it down for me. Let me take a wild guess. . . Are you having an attack of teenage hormones over a certain dark haired brooding New York City diner boy?"
Moving her hands to cover her face, Rory groans.
Lorelai grins ruefully. "Yeah," she says, "That's what I thought."
"I think I'm losing my mind," Rory moans from behind her hands.
Sighing, Lorelai says, "How bad is it?"
Rory peeks out between her fingers and surveys her mother.
"Give it to me straight," Lorelai urges. "I can take it."
"Are you sure?"
"Not really, but tell me anyways."
"Well," Rory begins, removing her hands from her face. "I was at the diner and, umm. . . I had some jelly donut on my face and-"
"Ooh!" Lorelai interrupts. "Did you bring me one?"
"No, sorry. I kinda left in a hurry," Rory apologizes.
"OK, you're forgiven this one time. Continue."
"Well, Jess saw the jelly donut filling stuck to my lip and he sort of leaned over and-"
"Licked it off with his tongue?!" Lorelai finishes for her.
"No!" Rory states quickly. Thinking it over, she sighs, "There's always next time though."
"Uh huh. Sorry. Continue."
"He leaned over and. . . you know. . . sorta scraped it off with his thumb and then, umm. . . he kind of. . . put his thumb in his mouth-"
"Stop!" Lorelai commands. "That's all the detail I can handle for one day. I think I have the basic gist of it."
Rory bites her lower lip and looks at her mother speculatively, waiting.
"Let's see if I've got this straight. Jess touched your face and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you?"
"Yes." Rory says.
"And the butterflies that normally behave themselves by limiting their activity to your stomach decided to mutiny and flutter all over your body?
"Yes!"
"And out of nowhere, the bones in your legs suddenly turned into Jell-O and you thought you might collapse?"
"Yes!"
"And if he would just collapse with you, the world would make perfect sense?"
"Yes!" Rory cries, "That's it exactly!"
"Oh God," Lorelai says closing her eyes. "Scoot over."
Rory slides to the middle of her bed making room for Lorelai who lies on her back next to her daughter.
"You've got it bad," Lorelai sighs.
"You think so?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"I was thinking that I only have it medium. Actually, a smidge to the left of medium, more like medium-light."
"I hate to break it to you but if you're already at the air-sucked-out-of- my-lungs-spaghetti-legs-collapsing stage, you've officially got it bad."
"Well, it doesn't matter," Rory says confidently. "I can handle it."
Lorelai laughs. "No babe, you really can't."
"Sure, I can."
"Oh honey. . . you know I love you and I'm not trying to be patronizing but you have to trust me when I say that you have no idea what you're talking about. I've been trying to explain this to you for months. These emotions that you're feeling, this stuff that's happening to you. . . it isn't 'handle-able'. Not in the way that you think it is. No one in the whole world has ever come out of where you are right now unchanged."
"But this is different."
"No, it isn't. It's the same story since the beginning of time. Passion makes people do crazy things, stupid things, things they never dreamed themselves capable of-"
"Mom, I know where you're going with this and Jess isn't out to corrupt me. That's not going to happen."
"Jess is only half of the equation here and frankly, I'm not even talking about him. This is about you."
"I'm not going to morph into Pamela Anderson Lee."
"Well, that's a huge relief."
"Don't you trust me?"
"You know I do. I'm just worried that you're not prepared for what's about to happen to you, what's already happening to you."
"I can't stay a baby forever, mom."
"Sure you can. You're just not trying hard enough."
Their conversation is interrupted by a weight hitting the bed. Both women look over to find Lane flopped on the other side of Rory. Mimicking Rory and Lorelai, Lane also lies flat on her back.
"I have no rock and roll clothes," Lane states sourly.
"Hey Lane," Rory greets.
"Did you bring your crucifix and holy water for Rory's exorcism?" Lorelai questions.
"Actually, no. Should I run home and get them?" Lane responds.
"You have holy water?" Rory asks her friend.
"Have you met my mother?" Lane asks rhetorically.
"Enough said," Rory concedes.
"Seriously, how can I achieve rock and roll greatness when I dress like a Quaker?"
"That definitely makes it harder," Rory admits.
"I can't think of one single Amish rock star," Lorelai agrees.
"I mean. . . did Terry Chimes ever look in his closet and think 'I have nothing to wear'?"
Rory steals a look at her mother. "Terry Chimes?" she asks.
"Drummer for The Clash," Lorelai responds.
"Ah," Rory nods.
"Those boots that Keith Moon wore? I'm pretty sure they were his," Lane continues.
Rory and Lorelai exchange another look.
"The Who," Lorelai says.
"I bet Maureen Tucker's mother did not buy her clothes for her," Lane continues, on a roll.
"The Velvet Underground," Rory offers.
"Lou Reed's drummer was a woman?" Lorelai questions, surprised.
"Uh huh, they called her 'Moe'," Rory informs her.
"Take Charlie Watts for instance. . ." Lane rants.
"The Rolling Stones," Lorelai says.
"Or Stewart Copeland. . . "
"The Police," Rory supplies.
"Or John Bonham. . . "
"Led Zeppelin," Rory offers.
"Choked on his own vomit," Lorelai informs her.
"Or Danny Carey. . ."
"OK. . . I'm stumped," Lorelai admits.
"Tool," Rory answers.
"Ah," breathes Lorelai.
"They all have the classic rock and roll rebel look. And don't even get me started on the trend setting and drumming genius of Roger Taylor. . ."
"You were influenced by Queen?" Lorelai interrupts.
"Who wasn't?" Lane responds.
"She has a good point," Rory says to her mother.
"It's useless." Lane sighs. "If you can't dress the part, get out of the kitchen. Or, leave the band. You know what I mean."
"Do you want to borrow some clothes?" Rory asks her best friend.
"Can I?" Lane asks.
"Of course you can. Although mom's closet is a better bet for finding the edgy stuff."
"Yea!" Lane cheers. Pausing momentarily, she continues, "OK. So, why are we laying on the bed staring at the ceiling?"
"We're trying to reach new Zen-like levels of calm," Lorelai says.
"We're thinking," Rory clarifies.
"Oh. What are we thinking about?" Lane asks.
"How to get Luke to send Jess back to New York without having him hate me like he did all last summer," Lorelai supplies.
"Mom!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Lorelai intones. "Was I the only one thinking about that? My bad."
"Am I missing something?" Lane asks, confused. "Why do we want Jess to leave Stars Hollow?"
"Because Rory has the hots for him and therefore he must be banished," Lorelai answers.
"What?!" Lane coughs, choking.
"I do not have the hots for Jess," Rory objects.
"Yes she does," Lorelai counters. "Bad."
"If I did have the hots for Jess, and I'm not saying that I do, it would not be in the category of bad. It would be more in the category of medium- light."
"You have the medium-light hots for Jess?" Lane questions.
"No," Lorelai answers for her. "She has the big bad blazing red hots for Jess."
"I do not," Rory protests.
Lane and Lorelai both observe her quietly.
"OK, maybe a little bit," Rory volunteers.
Silence settles on the room.
Sighing, Rory throws her hands in the air. "Alright! Maybe a lot."
"She's in heat," Lorelai concludes.
"I can't believe it. I'm out of commission for one week and my best friend goes into heat for a guy that I thought we were supposed to be hating."
"Where have you been, by the way?" Lorelai asks.
"Grounded."
"What for this time?" Lorelai queries.
"Someone told an off color knock-knock joke when Mama and I were at Doose's Market and I almost smiled. I really tried not to but I think the corners of my mouth inched up for a millisecond or so, which was just enough time for Mama to sense my impure, un-Christian thoughts. I had to spend last week translating Pilgrim's Progress into Korean. I challenge you to find a Korean word for 'expostulate'."
"I don't think I even know an English word for 'expostulate'," Lorelai muses.
"Wait a minute," Lane interjects. Looking at Rory, she asks, "How did you get from zero to white hot molten lust in just one week?"
"It's kind of been brewing for awhile," Rory admits sheepishly.
"How long is awhile?"
"Since before I went to Washington."
"Wow. That explains a lot."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I barely told myself."
"It's OK."
"No, it's not OK. You're my best friend and I'm supposed to tell you things."
"Hey, don't worry about it. This stuff is all new and confusing to me too. Trust me, I battle my own white hot Dave lust everyday."
"Mama Kim just got a pain in her heart and she doesn't know why," Lorelai smiles.
"You can confide in me though," Lane continues. "You know that, right?"
"I do," Rory answers. "That goes both ways."
"Yeah, I know. So, exactly what are you going to do about Jess?"
"OK, I hate to be the one who ruins the Hallmark moment we seem to be having, but there is one not-so-small detail that we're overlooking," Lorelai interjects.
"What?" Rory asks.
"Shane," Lorelai replies softly.
Every object in Rory's bedroom feels like it has somehow instantly jumped ten feet away from her and she's left lying in a void. Sonic waves created by the wake of the shifted reality pulse against her. The waves are painful and pounding, full of sound and fury and nothing tangible that she can grasp to stabilize her squeezed heart. She feels suddenly irrevocably alone. Tear spring to her eyes.
"Oh mom," she whispers. "I forgot all about Shane."
"I think I have scoop. . ." Lane states slowly and evenly.
"Scoop?" Rory questions in a small voice.
"Yes, I am known for my scoop. It's one of my gifts, but this is particularly timely. . ." Lane continues.
"Please enlighten us," Lorelai entreats.
"OK. . . When I was a kid, I used to keep a list of all the swear words I heard-" Lane begins.
"Why?" Lorelai interrupts.
"Because I knew there would come a day when I would be able to curse and I wanted to be prepared."
"Oh, good thinking. How did you keep the list hidden from Mama Kim?" Lorelai asks with interest.
"It was in the days before I discovered music, or at least before I had any cash to buy CDs. I stored it under the loose floorboards in my room with all my Juicy Fruit gum."
"You hid juicy fruit gum?"
"I had to. You see, juicy fruit is homosexual gum, or as Mama likes to refer to it, 'the gum of sodomites.' It wasn't allowed in our house."
"Juicy fruit is gay gum?"
"Yes, obviously preferred by the homosexual community. Mama believes that homosexuality is contagious, you know, like chicken pox. If we, the heterosexuals, start partaking of homosexual products we will catch homosexuality and become homosexuals ourselves. Then, there will be nothing left but hordes of gay people roaming the streets."
"You mean, hordes of gay people roaming the streets chewing gum."
"Yes."
"I think I'm missing the Shane connection," Rory interjects.
"Oh right. Today after school, I came out the west doors, like I always do, and crossed paths with Jess, Stars Hollow's newest declared hottie, having the argument of the year with his girlfriend. Well, actually, it was more like a shouting matching and it was more like Shane shouting and Jess trying to pretend like he was interested in what she was saying."
"Shouting about what?" Rory asks.
"Well, Shane was yelling at Jess about breaking up with her and she was pretty upset. In the space of three and a half minutes, she used every single swear word I had written on my list, plus two more that I'm going to have to look up on the internet later."
"Wow. That's kind of impressive," Lorelai observes.
"In a very sad way that acknowledges my baser instincts, I have to agree with you," Lane says.
"So, Jess broke up with Shane?" Rory questions, her voice more hopeful.
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
Rory smiles broadly as the three women fall into silence, still lying on Rory's bed.
"I'm hungry," Lorelai says.
"Me too," Rory concurs.
"That is the biggest cobweb I've ever seen," Lane observes staring at a corner of Rory's room.
"Yeah, I noticed that earlier," Lorelai muses.
"Can we order a pizza or something?" Rory asks.
"That would require getting up off the bed," Lorelai says, stating the obvious.
The three women lapse into silence again.
At length, Lane volunteers, "OK, I'll do it. I haven't been lying here as long as you two have, so it should be easier for me to pry myself off this bed."
Lane stands and walks to the door. Turning back, she asks, "Should I order some cheesy bread too?"
"You have to ask?" Lorelai says.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Lane grins, leaving the room.
Lorelai rolls onto her side and props her head up on her elbow. Looking at Rory she says, "Before the moment passes entirely, can we backtrack a bit?"
"Mom," Rory begins. "Remember when I took care of Michel's car last weekend and you said you owed me? I'm cashing in my I.O.U."
"Uh oh."
"I just want you to promise to give Jess a chance and give me some credit. This doesn't have to be the disaster you envision."
Lorelai groans. "Do you have any idea what you're asking me?"
"I think so. Just trust me mom, I'm not going to rush into anything with Jess. I just need to know that you are not going to freak out if you see me talking to him."
Lorelai makes a small whimpering noise and buries her face in a pillow. When she emerges, she takes a deep breath and says, "OK. BUT. . . and I really really mean this. . . You need to make me a promise too."
"What?" Rory asks cautiously.
"Promise that you will talk to me and tell me what's going on with you and Jess. I don't care what it is. I need to know what you're doing so I can help you stay safe."
"Deal," Rory smiles.
"Pinky swear," Lorelai says.
Rory holds out her hand and the two women lock pinkies.
Lorelai goes first, "I swear that I will give Jess a fair chance, and believe in the ability of my amazingly wonderful daughter, who I love more than life itself, to make good choices."
"And I swear that I will tell you where my head's at where Jess is concerned and let you help me as I try to figure out what the heck I'm doing."
The two women smile at each other. Lorelai leans over and touches her forehead to Rory's.
"Man, do I need coffee," Lorelai says, as she gets up and makes her way to the door.
"Coffee would be great," Rory agrees.
Smiling at her daughter, Lorelai exits the room.
Lost in thought, Rory falls back onto her bed. Curling onto one side, she spies Leaves of Grass on the floor where she dropped it. 'I wonder if Walt has anything else to say to me?' she thinks. Leaning over, she carefully picks up the book, holding her thumb in the page that had fallen open. Rolling onto her back one last time, she reads.
.
"Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
You must travel it for yourself.
It is not far, it is within reach,
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
Shoulder your duds dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth,
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand
on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service to me,
For after we start we never lie by again.
This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven,
And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs,
and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we
be fill'd and satisfied then?
And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.
You are also asking me questions and I hear you,
I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself."
.
"Rory, honey," Lorelai calls. "Pizza's here."
Rory closes the book and places it back on her nightstand. As she walks out of her room, she turns back and looks at the book.
"Thanks Walt," she whispers.
.
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
.
A/N: To me, reviews are like strawberry filling in the jelly donut of life.