Narcissus
Author: SweetThing
Chapter: 4 "Under Your Skin"
Disclaimer: Horns go "honk" and bells go "ring"! I don't own a gosh darn thing! Hee, Angel, that was for you. Anyway though, in all seriousness, I don't have any claims to anything. The chapter title and lyrics are from "Shiver" by Maroon 5, off of their CD, Songs About Jane. I also don't own When Harry Met Sally, or any of its scenes.
Author's Note: Thank you, once again, for all the wonderful feedback. I can't say that enough—I adore all of you. :-D And, Happy 150th Birthday Trories! Above all, this is for you.
Dedications: Angeleyez, because I am the QUEEN! But she is the best beta, not to mention listener-of-ramblings, ever. Surya and Susie, because they rock, are always encouraging, and they share with me. ;-) Also, Nate, who is hilarious and knows what part of this chapter he inspired. Finally, all of my reviewers, whom I love: MrSchimpf (lol), blurred, Susie, linds, Deeta, piper-h-99, Genevah, klm111a, aliseeus, kay, PixiePunk, LandonLover, trory-goddess, Liza, Vicki Carmicheal, Jamie, Priya, Angeleyez, (hee!), rach, mandie, and Jewls13.
You chew me up / you spit me out / enjoy the taste I leave in your mouth/
you look at me/ I look at you/ neither of us know what to do…
I can't believe I'm doing this.
No, I mean really, I must have been on something on Thursday because I can't remember for the life of me why the hell I'm pulling in to Rory's driveway. To have sex. It goes without saying why that name is so synonymous with everything grating and irritating in my life. Thus, I'm at a loss for why I'm here. It's simply a conundrum why I would even----
Alright. Fine. I'll admit it. The truth is I'm kidding myself. I know exactly why I'm in Rory Gilmore's driveway, just about to get out of the car to go have sex.
Because I want to. Because this thing with Charisse tore me up inside, and it hurts to think about her. Because I don't know what else I really can do.
Because I need to.
The stuff I've been saying, and even thinking, lately, has made me question if I still live in the same universe I used to. But nothing shocks me as much as that recent discovery does. I actually desire a woman who, not two weeks ago, the only thing I desired about her was to irritate her. Make her squirm, if you will. Now, I want both.
I sigh. I've thought about this enough over the duration of the week. It's a road filled with tracks, a beaten dead horse, running over and over in my mind. And I'm exhausted mentally from it. It's time to just act, crazy or not.
I finally get out of my '74 Mustang (fully loaded) and start towards Rory's modest but charming house, hesitating slightly. I'm like a fucking high-school freshman going to the dance. My hands are clammy and shoved into my pockets, my mouth is dry, and my stomach is tightly knotted. Jesus! I am not nervous! It's just, I hope her mom and step-dad really are away, like she said. What if they haven't left yet? Oh, please. It's Saturday. They had to have left at least yesterday. Plus, she said this weekend. We're well into it now.
I approach the front door. I stand there a moment before knocking once. Twice, my reluctance rolling away gradually, giving way to a new emotion I don't recognize. It is faceless, lingering in my system. But I don't have time to really acknowledge it because then…
She's opening the door.
She looks slightly uncomfortable as she pulls the door all the way ajar and says,
"Hey."
"Uh, hey," I reply. A pause falls over us, heavy and slow.
Finally, I have to say something.
"So, do you want me to---?"
"Oh! Oh yeah, sure. C'mon in." Rory seems to be kicking herself for forgetting the proper etiquette for guests in her abode. Not that I'm really a guest. I don't really know what I'd call myself in this situation.
I follow her into the house, taking it in. It's rather charming, in a disheveled yet hip sort of way. It has that warm aroma to it that states one thing: this isn't just a house. It's a home. I know it all too well, yet it's something I've never felt in my own mansion. The only time I really feel the way you're supposed to feel around family members is, ironically, at my grandparents' house.
The maternal set.
But, that's irrelevant right now. I turn my mind back the present as Rory walks quickly down the small hallway, pointing out rooms along the way. It seems she's giving me a tour. I shrug.
"Um…yeah, that's the kitchen, right there, and over to your right is the basic, you know, living room, and mom and Luke's room is upstairs, and my room---"
She pauses, slightly embarrassed.
"God. I can't believe I'm showing you my house," she says, her polite yet timid façade gone. The awkwardness lifts significantly. I'm almost relieved when she continues,
"I mean, I don't even know why I'm doing this. I hardly ever show the house to anyone because really who's come in here in the past, maybe three years except for my step dad? Even then, he's known what our house looks like forever because he and my mom were really good friends even before they got married and then---"
She stops herself. "You know what, I'm sorry. I just, I have no idea how to—"
"Begin?" The word is ousted out of my mouth before I fully realize what I have said.
"Yeah," Rory responds, looking at me strangely. Then, something is set off inside her, it seems. Not that I really know about the inner-workings of her mind or anything, but it's written all over her face.
Then she explodes.
"Argh! I can't do this, it's just too unnatural and awkward and weird! It's crazy, we're crazy! I mean, this is not going to work, every time I'm around you all I feel like doing is ripping you apart! We can't possibly overcome that, it's too deep, too permanent. I mean, we've been in this pattern for years, I see you, we fight until the other one's tired, and---"
I cut her off. "You know, don't you think this so-called 'pattern' you're referring to has changed just a little over the past two weeks? You can't deny that, and even though I'd love to, neither can I. We've already analyzed and discussed this to death, and I thought we were on the same page with this. This might just end up helping us as I told you last week, so what's the problem?"
"I told you what was the problem, you insensitive asshole! Do you not understand the concept of listening?"
She has the nerve to insult me? What the hell is this?
I raise my voice to meet hers. "For your information, I was listening, and it's not my fault you're nervous or scared or whatever it is that's causing you to freak out right now. You told me to come here, I came. What more do you want, besides the obvious?"
She gasps audibly at my last comment. I almost cringe. Maybe I went a little too far. A split second silence roars like the wind.
When it passes, I see, almost in slow motion, her hand rising. She pulls it back and slaps me sharply across the face. A clear "smack" is heard.
"How. Dare you?" Rory's sentence comes out slow and broken, her breathing slightly irregular from the yelling.
"I thought you'd be able to get this. I should've known. I was wrong," she explains calmly, seething.
I put my hand up to my face, the annoying stinging sensation grating on my nerves. I don't believe she actually got physical on me. I'm at the breaking point. I need just the right button to push.
I find it.
I smirk, a sense of knowing coming over me. I turn fully towards her and say, mimicking her overly cool tone,
"What you see. Is what you get."
Rory seems to be rendered speechless, the look on her face a mixture of disgust and disbelief. She lets out a strange noise, something between a gasp and…well, I'm not sure what. We are very close now, less than five feet away from one another. In our arguing, we had moved without really consciously knowing. Plus, I had to get in her face. It's basic knowledge for any guy who really wants to irritate a girl.
I continue to look in her in the eye, waiting for her to throw something equally nasty back at me. She always does. And it only gets on my nerves more.
She finally obliges.
"What, am I supposed to kiss you now or something?" She asks, the sarcasm and disgust still evident in her voice. I match it.
I move. One step, two. Pause. Then, a slow reply.
"You, tell me."
Suddenly, she seizes the back of my neck. And proceeds to crush her lips to mine in possibly the hardest kiss I've ever received in my life. It is fierce, angry, and contains demanding undertones that are a little hard to process until I pick up on them.
They then become quite familiar. I take her cue, returning the kiss quickly with an equal burning that this has stirred up in me. Luckily, we are right by her bedroom. Kiss after kiss, everything happens the way it happened Thursday, and before that even. We can't help ourselves. I lead her, backwards, towards her bedroom, where we collapse on the bed, inhibitions be damned.
It seems everything is going according to plan.
*
A while later, we lay, slightly exhausted, in her bed, which is smaller than mine but still big enough for two, thank God (it would not exactly be a turn-on to have sex in her childhood single bed). When I had gotten to Stars Hollow, it was around 7:30, so around this time, I've found, sex can often lead to sleep afterwards. Obviously. I sigh tiredly. The aftermath of this "escapade" is noticeably different from the previous ones. The feeling in the air is more relaxed, almost…comfortable. That scares me a little, but I suppose with our arrangement, stuff like this is basically a given.
Rory suddenly comes to life.
She seems to be laughing a bit as she says,
"Well, congratulations."
I turn a little to look at her.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh c'mon, you can brag. I know you want to," Rory continues, looking at me sideways.
"Are you drunk?" I question, half-seriously. She's really starting to freak me out.
She smacks me on the chest, harder than necessary. I let out a yelp. "No! I'm just…tired, I guess. I don't know." She lies back down, letting out a breath as if under stress.
Then she seems to realize what, exactly, she just said. I see her cringe.
Unfortunately, it is too late because the words are already leaving my mouth. "So, I really wore you out, huh?"
"Ugh! I knew I shouldn't have said that. Fine, fine, have your fun." Her tone changes, over-flowing with sarcasm. "Oh yes, you are such a stallion, Tristan. Ride me, ride me! God, how immature can you be?"
I laugh through her response and when she finishes, say,
"Oh, you'd be surprised. I can go low, sweetie."
"Is that supposed to be threatening?" Now she's the one laughing. "And don't
talk down to me. Really, you sound like an idiot. Although, the jury's still
out in my book as to whether you really are one or not."
I feign hurt. "Insulting my intelligence, are you? That wounds me, Rory, it really does."
Rory rolls her eyes. "I'm sure I've scarred you for life. You can send all your therapist bills to me in ten years when you have that emotional breakdown triggered by my insults and sarcastic remarks."
"Hey, you never know," I say overly serious, "One of these days, you could find one in your mailbox."
She snorts. "I doubt that. Oh, what time is it, anyway?" She suddenly asks.
I look over to the right, where an alarm clock is sitting on a small night table.
"It is…8:33."
"Wow, it's early still. I wonder why we didn't fall asleep?"
I shrug. "Probably because it was early." I pause. Something has been on my mind from the minute I reached her front porch.
"That reminds me…am I staying? Like, all night?"
It seems she hasn't thought about this.
"Oh. Well, I'm not really sure. Do you…want to stay?"
This is not an easy question for me to answer. Of course I could just tell her the truth, which is yes. The last thing I feel like doing right now is making the drive all the way back to Hartford. It's a pain in the ass. Besides, what would I being going to home to? An empty house? My father "getting acquainted" with a co-worker? Doesn't sound all that appealing. I decide to opt for indifference.
"It doesn't really matter. I can leave if you want, or I could just crash here and leave in the morning."
"Okay," she pauses, "You can stay if you want. I mean, it might make more sense to just drive back tomorrow morning, you know, when traffic won't be that bad."
"Alright then, I'll stay," I say. And I didn't even have to say my excuse. Perfect.
"Alright, fine," she says nonchalantly. A silence falls. Neither of us speaks for a few moments until it becomes too much for me.
Fortunately, Rory places the burden of starting conversation on her shoulders. She turns to face me.
"So, since you're staying here… and I'm not really that tired, I think we should just find something to talk about for a while, until we fall asleep, or get tired enough to just turn off the lights. I'm not seeing a whole lot of other options here, so, as hard as it will be, I'm still suggesting that we make an effort to engage in civil conversation. Agreed?"
Her eyes question me as well as her voice. I groan inwardly. Doesn't she know anything about the male species? Talking is not one of out strongest suits. Plus, I'm getting tired, and I really don't feel like arguing with her for another hour or so.
"Hey! Not necessarily. Why do we really have to talk, anyway? There is always that…other option," I say, looking at her suggestively.
Her face wears a disgusted expression. "Do you have any idea how much of a turn-off that is?" "Besides," she sighs, "We are going to be around each other rather frequently over the next couple of months, so we might as well start trying now to converse like people who are capable of coexisting with each other." She looks at me, bordering on exasperated. "Now, can you please cooperate with me on this?"
I mull over this for a second. She does have a point. I reluctantly acknowledge that if this is going to keep working like it has tonight; we need to be able to have a conversation like people usually do, minus the biting arguments. Well, at least try to, anyway.
"Yeah, ok, I agree. I will try," I look at her pointedly, "As long as you try."
She rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't have brought this up if I wasn't going to try, Tristan." Her voice is low as she adds, "Although I'm sure I'll be wondering why the hell I'm bothering half the time."
"Oh c'mon!" I retort. "Now who's the immature one? Give me a little credit. I was the one who thought of this in the first place, remember? I am capable of being civil, hard as that is to believe."
Rory sighs. Her voice is heavy with what sounds like regret as she says, "You know what? You're right. I shouldn't have said that. It's just hard to give credit to someone who's basically been the bane of your existence for practically all of your teenage years and after. Which are full enough of angst as it is," she adds pointedly.
I can't deny the truth in what she's just said. I wave off her apology. "Don't worry about it, it's alright. I'm just tired, and with everything that's been happening lately---"
"A bit overwhelming, isn't it?" She jokes.
I chuckle a little, exhausted. "That's an understatement. Plus, the whole thing with Charisse is kind of…new, still."
She looks mildly curious. "Your ex, right?" I nod. "I knew it was something with a C."
"You were right," I say, confirmation drenching my voice. At certain times, even hearing or saying her name still stings.
I look over at Rory, who seems to be pondering something. Finally, she speaks.
"Hey…I know you probably don't want to talk about this…but, at the party a few weeks ago, you mentioned…she cheated on you?"
I nod. "Yeah, I had some wine in me that night." She giggles a little. I protest, a little shocked. "Not funny! I was…drowning my troubles, if you will."
"Ah, so you went for the classic cure-all."
"You got it."
Another silence falls. I've lost count of what number it is over the course of the night. I find myself breaking it once again as I then say,
"So…Steve, right? He's the guy who…?"
"Dumped me? Yes, that's him. The infamous."
"I see. An asshole, huh?"
"No, that's the thing. He really, truly wasn't an asshole. I wish he had been one, though. I could call him one till I was blue in the face, even till I was purple in the face, but… it would be a lie. He was possibly the sweetest, most caring guy I've ever met."
"Huh. Wow, so, basically---"
She breaks in a bit absent-mindedly, looking as if she wants to finish,
"The opposite of you, yeah. Anyway, then---"
"Hey!" I exclaim, "I resent that!"
"Well think about it, how am I supposed to see you after all of our, dare I say, history over the course of my adolescence? You weren't, and frankly, aren't exactly pleasant."
I sigh. "True. Alright, so he was a really nice guy. What happened? If you don't mind me asking," I add as an afterthought.
"No, it's okay. Well, he was perfect, to me anyway. And our relationship was going so great. He was so wonderful and caring and sweet. Almost…"
"Too good to be true, right? I've heard stories like this before," I explain, off her look. "The guys back at school, they have had every possible failed relationship or problem you can think of."
She nods. "Exactly. Sometimes, when I look back, I can kind o Sometimes, when I look back, I can kind of see that it was like this fantasy relationship. The kind you only see in books, and movies and stuff. Cheesy as it sounds, we just seemed so right for each other. I'm not quite sure what it was between us, but I always thought that what we had was special. Anyway though, we had been dating for almost two years, about, and that's when it started happening. He wasn't himself, and he just seemed so…withdrawn, you know? So detached. Then, all of a sudden one day he wanted to talk, and---"
Ouch. I would never have done this to any of my previous girlfriends. Getting The Talk was bad enough. It was basically a round-a-bout way of saying, "I don't want to be with you anymore, the spark is gone." Or, in my case: "There is someone else. I love them, but not you." Only, people found pretty, more verbose ways of communicating that to you. And it sucked. Internally, I stick to my previous assumption of Steve: an asshole. "He had The Talk with you? As in the Relationship Talk?" I inquire.
"That's right," she says, "If that's what you want to call it. Then, he mumbled some stuff about how we'd been growing apart, heading in 'different directions', etcetera, etcetera. All of this crap that just came out of nowhere, you know? I remember thinking, 'When did this all happen? Was I present at the time?' I was so confused."
Rory's face looks pained as she recalls the event, suddenly lost in the past. I am, shockingly enough, now listening rather intently to her story. If there's anyone who knows what being utterly confused, not to mention lost, is like, it's me.
She continues, "And there was more of that blather, I guess you'd call it, even though I don't really say the word 'blather' but whatever, if it works it works, right? About moving on and feelings changing, the big picture. And that's…" she pauses, her voice thick, "…That was when he told me that he didn't feel the same way used to about me. That he…he…" she stops for a moment and swallows hard. "He wasn't sure if he loved me anymore."
We are perfectly still in her bed as she gathers herself in order to finish.
She clears her throat. "And then…and then, it ended. It was over. And, we went our separate ways, and…that's it." Her story, apparently, is over, and her voice is detached. I can't believe that Rory didn't see what an asshole this Steve person was before it finally blew up in their faces. She has always seemed pretty perceptive if nothing else. Than again, maybe Steve was a good guy…it was just one of those things. Still, "one of those things" can beat a person up pretty badly. I should know.
Because I am "one of those things". My whole relationship turned out to be "one of those things". Doting boyfriend gets fucked over by sweet but just can't help herself and falls in love with someone else girl. It was like a page out of a cheesy dating handbook.
So, all of this in mind, I do the only thing that seems appropriate. I know not to mess with her when she's in this state.
I clear my throat. "Are you…you know, alright?"
Rory looks at me for what seems to be the first time in a while.
"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. It just…"
"Sucks, doesn't it?"
"The understatement of the century, ladies and gentlemen." I chuckle a little. Then, I put my plan to steer the conversation off course into action. Jeez. All I need is the over-used theme music and I could be James fucking Bond. Well, not exactly. I clear my throat.
"You know, for all the good qualities this guy had, nobody's perfect. There had to be something, some neurosis, a habit, that bothered you a little about him."
She pauses. "I've tried that, honestly. But my warped, over-analytical mind just turned into more good qualities about him since it was his flaws that made him more human." She shakes her head, frustrated. "I am such a mess. Really. I need to put something on." She gets up out of the bed with a quilt wrapped around her and busies herself with finding appropriate pajamas.
I don't quit. "But no, this could still work. I mean, what were these flaws? Was he a momma's boy? He snore? Was he…" I decide to try to lighten the mood a little. "Bad in bed?"
Rory suddenly grabs her pillow from off the bed and hits me with it. "Jackass! Why does everything automatically go back to sex with you? It doesn't matter how good or bad a person is in bed, if you love them, that's enough! Even if they're not the most stellar in the bedroom department, you don't know, because it's not important!"
She's sufficiently pissed at this point. Whoops.
"Alright! Alright, I'm…sorry. God," I say, "I was just trying to get you to lighten up a little. I was kidding around!"
She slowly turns around, clad in boxers and a matching tank top thing that girls always wear.
"You know what? Don't worry about it. Your attempts at trying to, I hesitate to say the phrase 'cheer me up', were misguided, but…I shouldn't have taken it so seriously like that, so I apologize, I guess." She lets her left hand, which was practically flying all over the place as she was speaking, drop, looking exhausted from trading barbs with me half the night. She walks towards the side of the bed she'd been lying on before sitting down. Her shoulders slump.
"Augh, God," she groans, rubbing her temples. "Do you know what the really sick irony behind this whole argument is?"
"Hmm?"
"He really… wasn't bad in bed."
I snort. "Really?"
"He wasn't astronomical or anything, and I certainly don't think he could've been my Sheldon, but---"
"Your what?" I am more than a little confused.
"Sheldon. From When Harry Met Sally?"
I have no idea what she's talking about. "Care to elaborate? I never saw the movie," I explain.
"Oh, well it's the guy you've had the best sex of your life with. Girl, in your case, but in the movie, Meg Ryan's character tells Billy Crystal's character that this guy's name was Sheldon."
I cringe a little. "Sheldon?"
She laughs. "Exactly, that's the whole point. Then Billy Crystal goes off on this whole schpiel that she did not have the best sex of her life with Sheldon because of his name. It's a great scene."
"Oh, okay." I stop for a moment, processing this new information. "So you're saying you don't think you had the best sex of your life with him."
"Right," she responds, "If he was the best sex of my life, than he obviously would've been the One, or whatever other cheesy title they give for the person you're supposed to be with forever."
"Interesting logic, I'll give you that," I say thoughtfully.
"Yeah. I mean, I know I said that the person being 'good' or 'bad' was irrelevant, but he obviously wasn't the best sex I've ever had because…we're over. I mean, look what happened."
"It wasn't really meant to be, then."
Rory sighs, a very familiar sound. "I guess not. Sometimes I just wish it were though…you know what I mean?" She smiles wryly. "God, I can't believe I told you all this. I have a tendency to ramble."
"I've noticed."
"Hey!" She protests. "Have a little sympathy, please."
"Oh, relax," I reply, "I was kidding…. sort of."
She settles into her bed again, significantly tired. I suddenly have a rather amusing thought.
I look over at her. "You know, it might actually be a good thing that this Steve wasn't the best sex you've ever had. I mean, Steve? Not exactly a fitting name for someone described as that."
Rory looks thoughtful. "Yeah, that's true. You know what, Tristan, I'm getting tired, so why don't we just call it a night, alright?"
I continue, almost not hearing her request. "Plus, whoever this guy turns out to be, there's only one out there who's going to prove what I've always known."
She looks increasingly irritated as she replies, "Oh yeah? What's that?"
I grin evilly. "That you are a screamer in bed. No doubt about it."
"Ugh! Would you please just shut the hell up now? I am not a 'screamer' in bed, nor will I ever be one. Now as I as said, I'm going to sleep. We are going to sleep. Meaning you as well."
"Oh, now I don't know about that. With all the yelling we've been doing over the years and everything? You, my dear, have a lot pent-sexual frustration that you don't even know about, which is why with the right guy I could really see you getting—"
"Enough!" she yells. "First of all, if you ever call me 'dear' or any other degrading pet name again, you will be permanently damaged in an area of your body that will not be disclosed at this point and time—"
"Why, because you're just making this up and not even bothering to say where?" I interrupt.
"Because I haven't figured out what place would hurt you most!" She fires back.
"And," she continues before I have a chance in break in, "Second, for the love of God, keep your fucking mouth shut! I do not have any sexual frustration, the only frustration I have is with you and your lewd comments you make every five goddamn minutes! Plus, it just shows how much of a perv you really are because you thought about me and sex in the same sentence. So there. Now go to sleep, please." She looks triumphant as she turns away from me, towards her side of the bed.
I sigh. Maybe I should just go to bed. But annoying her is so much more fun! Plus, I'm not as tired as she is. I have stamina.
I suddenly have a stroke of genius. That's it! Stamina.
"I just feel for whoever this Wonder Boy turns out to be. I mean, is he really going to have enough staying power in order to keep up with you and your---"
"Alright! What the hell is it going to take for you to shut up?! What?"
I use this opportunity to the fullest. Words are not needed.
I turn towards her and give her a knowing yet suggestive look.
The look she gives in response is reminiscent of someone trying prunes for the first time. "You disgust me," she says, dead serious. She seems to mull over something for a moment. Finally, she says,
"If we have sex, will you be quiet?"
I nod.
"For longer than two seconds?"
I nod again. Wow. This is easier than I thought.
"Alright, here are the terms. If you do not say anything, make any noise, expel any bodily function for ten consecutive minutes with me watching the clock, then and only then, will we have sex."
I look up, dubious as well as irritated. Is she serious?
"Are you serious? This is just another one of your little mind games where you say you'll do it, and then when the ten minutes is up, you'll go to sleep anyway. Sorry, toots, I ain't buying it."
"Oh, c'mon, when have I ever done this before? Never. I'm serious."
"You honestly think I'm going to fall for this? That I'd risk being humiliated by you when you tell me you're not going to have sex with me anyway, much to your delight?"
"Yes, I do, although, there's nothing to fall for because this is not a trick! Of course you'd take that risk. You're a guy, and you're…you! You'd do anything to get it. You are, at the moment, so sexually deprived that you will even risk being made my virtual whipping boy, only to possibly find out that I may not do it anyway." She looks smug.
I, at this point, have been sitting straight up in bed, and I look at her, shooting daggers in her direction.
"If you really think that these head games and going back and forth are going to make me crack----"
Rory interrupts me, "I know it."
About two seconds go by. I can't tear myself away from her eyes. I'm too stubborn. Apparently, so is she. For some reason, I have a strong feeling that this can only lead to one thing.
"Well, you were right," I say hurriedly and pull her towards me. She complies, and we are a tangle of arms and legs and defeat, struggling for affinity.
It is only later that we fall asleep.
*
The next day, I am awakened by the sun shining in my eyes through one of the windows. And something else. I have a distinct feeling of extra weight on me. In my half-asleep state, it takes me a moment to figure out that it's Rory, who is splayed rather haphazardly across my upper-body. She has a pretty good hold though, and I am very tempted to go back to asleep rather than risk getting kicked or scratched or both.
I close my eyes and let out a breath. She shifts beneath me, mumbling something or other in her sleep. I am more than a little surprised that she hasn't figured out just who exactly she is lying on, to say the least. I carefully look over at her clock radio, near my side of the bed.
Nine-forty-five.
I ponder as to whether or not I should wake her up. If her parents were only away for the weekend, that means they'll probably be back today, so…
"Rory," I whisper, shaking her a little. "Hey, c'mon, sunshine, get up."
"Mmm?" She moves closer to me a little as if someone is trying to get her up for school. I try again. "Rory, come on, you should get up. Your parents might be coming home soon."
She seems to be a little more awake as she mumbles,
"They're not getting home till---"
She then suddenly remembers her surroundings. She quickly pulls away from me and sits up, rather sleepily.
"Oh my God!" She looks a bit sheepish as she continues, "Err, sorry, you know, about…that."
I wave it off. "It's alright. You were asleep, you didn't know what you were doing."
"Right."
We sit there for a moment, regaining our senses and waking up, staring off into space.
Then she says,
"Well, we should probably get dressed. Mom and Luke won't be home till about three today, so you have time to leave and everything."
"Okay then," I say, getting up and stretching. I adjust my boxers a bit before starting a search for my clothes.
A few minutes later, I am fully clothed and am about to start putting my shoes on when I hear a noise. It almost sounds like…
"The door!" Rory exclaims. "Who the hell could be coming here now?" She becomes increasingly more frazzled.
"Hide! Under…. the bed or something, just get yourself out of sight because—"
"Hey! Hey! Calm down. What if I just stay in this room, you close the door…" She catches on to my train of thought quickly, and says,
"Oh, right, right. But, remember, not a word." She goes to answer the door, carefully closing the one to her bedroom. I drop down onto the bed and sigh. From inside, I hear Rory's voice.
"Sookie?"
"Hi, sweetie!"
"Hi, wow!"
"Oh, just look at you, so grown-up!"
"Oh, c'mere!"
They are obviously hugging as they continue,
"It's so nice to see you finally, though. I don't even think I've seen you since I've been home!"
"Oh, I know. I have so much catching up to do with you!"
"Of course," Rory replies, a bit uncomfortably, "So, what brings you here so early?"
"Oh, that's right. I wanted to drop this off at Lorelai's today before she and Luke got home, and I was up early because of Annie, so I figured I'd do it on my way out. It's a sort of joint celebration cake."
"Sookie, it's beautiful. They're going to love it! But, why joint celebration? I mean, I know, their anniversary, but, is there…something else?"
"Well of course, the—" The jolly sounding voice stops abruptly.
"Oh, no, that's right! I wasn't supposed to tell---"
"What, Sookie? What's going on?"
"Nope, I didn't say anything, there's nothing else, why would there be something else, there's nothing else! I mean, did Lorelai think there was something else because as far as I know there is certainly---"
I hear her run out of breath. I smirk. Quite the character, this woman is.
"Whoa, Sookie, calm down a little. Now, if my mom mentions a 'something else'," Rory says evenly, "I did not hear the something else from you. At least, that's what I'll tell her. Okay? Don't worry about it."
"Oh, okay, thank God. It was just, it's such a wonderful…'something else'! And it kind of slipped out. Isn't it though?"
"It is," Rory replies, "It really is."
I hear them squeal and possibly hug again.
"Alright, hon, I've got to get going. I left Jackson alone with the kids and Will's sick, so I'll see you all later, alright?"
"Alright, bye!"
"Bye! And remember…"
"Oh, I know," Rory laughs a little. I hear her shut the door. Finally, it's safe for me to walk out of her room. I do so, having put on my shoes, and come up behind her, nearly scaring her to death in the process.
"Ah! Don't do that please. I've already gotten as shocked as a person can be this morning. God!" She mumbles the last part to herself, more in wonder than frustration.
"My mother, I am pretty sure, is having another baby. My mother! It sounds so weird…but a good weird. A fantastic weird. I can't believe Sookie found out before me!"
"Wow," I reply, "Pretty big deal, huh?"
"That's an understatement." She shakes her head. "I can't believe this! Do you realize I'll be like, the biggest big sister ever? More like oldest, but still! It's amazing." She then seems to notice that it's me she's talking to and looks up abruptly.
"Oh! Oh, sorry, excitement overload. Had to tell someone."
"Really? And I here I thought that I already saw you on excitement overload last night when—"
She glares at me. "Shut your face! I'm overwhelmed here."
I smirk. "I should be leaving anyway. Traffic's at its best right now."
"True. Well, then I guess this is goodbye," she says dramatically.
"I'm sure you're all broken up about that," I quip.
"Not any more than you!" She says cheekily.
"Yeah. So…is anything to be said regarding next time?" A thin layer of awkwardness fills the room silently.
"I guess. Because there's going to be one, apparently." She says.
"I thought so."
"Well, so did I."
"Ok, so then, sometime this week…I'll call—"
"You don't have this number," she interrupts.
"Well, then I'll get it from you," I say condescendingly,
"Or you could just show up unexpectedly around Thursday…the parentals will be at Lydia and Scott Henderson's beach house for a few days," I explain.
She nods a little, processing the information.
"I guess I will then, although I can't believe anyone still refers to their parents as 'the parentals'."
"A classic never dies," I say knowingly.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself," She replies, "I'll see you later then."
"Likewise."
She turns the doorknob expertly and goes to open the door…
…Just as someone knocks on it.
"Rory? Are you home?" An elderly yet regal voice questions from outside. I deduct from my basic identifying skills that it has to be her grandmother, Emily Gilmore.
She looks at me in disbelief. "God, did everyone just feel the need to show up here today without warning? Stay here. Get down behind of the couch, so she won't see you. While I'm talking to her, go out the back. " Her voice is low as she gives the orders.
I follow her instructions and crouch down behind her couch. From the spot, I hear Rory greet this woman kindly.
"Grandma! How are you?"
"Oh, Rory, I'm awfully sorry about this. I would never normally come over uninvited and unannounced like this, but I just had to get of that house!"
"Don't worry about it. Mom's not home, but I'm here."
"Which is exactly why I decided to come over. Lorelai mentioned her trip, and I just thought, 'How often do I get the chance to spend some quality time with my granddaughter without the pretense of a social event?' And I came to the conclusion that it's not nearly often enough. So I thought I'd come by and see what you were doing."
"Oh, well that's so nice of you, Grandma. I don't really have any plans today." She pauses. "Why don't we go out for lunch?"
"Wonderful idea!" Her grandmother says merrily. "But before we go, do you think I could steal myself a glass of water?"
"Sure," I hear Rory fumbling around in the kitchen. "So, Grandma, you seem a little tense. What's going on at the house? Everything okay?"
"That's just it. Everything is in chaos! Ever since your great-grandmother died, your grandfather has been completely absorbed in the lavish funeral plans she so carefully wrote out in her will, down to every last detail. She wanted five different kinds of flowers and a casket polished a color that doesn't even exist! I sympathize with Richard, and of course it pains me to see him so upset, but it's just ridiculous how much money he's spending on the most insignificant things!" She sighs.
"I probably sound so selfish, but it just feels as though Gran is coming back to haunt me. And since these were her last wishes, there's nothing I can do about it."
"I don't think you sound that selfish, Grandma. I mean, maybe this is Grandpa's way of grieving, making sure that she's happy and that all of her wishes are taken care of."
"I suppose you're right. She wasn't all that bad of a woman, either. I just hate to see Richard so distressed. He can't focus on anything, not work, social engagements. I just hope he can be at peace with this soon. You know how close he was to her." I hear them moving towards the living room.
"Of course. Don't worry; I'm sure he'll be fine soon. He's got you, after all. And all the other people who love him. Mom, me."
"That is nice to know. What would we ever do without you, Rory?"
"Well, you probably would've worn tennis shoes a lot later in your life."
Emily chuckles. "That was so long ago, wasn't it?"
"It was," Rory agrees.
"Well, as they say, there's no time like the present! Now let's go get that lunch," she says enthusiastically.
I hear them move toward where I am stationed and remain perfectly still. I move my eyes to them and see Rory walking with her grandmother, slightly behind her, making sure she is facing forward. She suddenly catches my eye. 'Go' she mouths, motioning with her hand. Emily is too busy complaining, seemingly about her daughter. I get up quickly and quietly, pacing briskly to the back door in the kitchen. Emily doesn't notice a thing. I crouch, again near the table this time, just to be sure.
"…Which reminds me, your mother really needs to start locking that door more often. I could've walked right in, and who knows who else might one day break in here, never mind that strange car parked in your driveway…" Her voice trails off. I hear the door slam behind them. I sigh in relief. Finally.
I get up from my position and stretch a little. I then wait until I see the expensive-looking car pull out onto the street until I feel safe enough to go out and get my car, still in the driveway. This makes me suddenly wonder, with a smirk, how Rory will explain that to her grandmother.
When I reach it, I climb in, welcoming the air conditioning that turns on when I start her up. Yes, my car is my baby. Her name's Marilyn. She purrs as I pull out of the driveway, the sun pouring in through the windows. It's a beautiful day.
God. Talk about a long drive.
The drive isn't long in distance, of course. A half-hour is pretty much nothing. But everything with Rory is swimming in my head, fresh from last night. I ignore it. Because really, analyzation is like pounding your head against a wall. You get nowhere, and if you do, by some miracle, you then get yourself all the way back to square one by analyzing what you thought of.
So, I force my mind to other things. I wonder if my parents are home this morning. Ugh. I don't want to think about my parents. It seems as if for the last few years, we've followed a routine in my family. Rumors fly about my father and his various sexual escapades, my mother hears them and gets upset, he swears he didn't do it and buys her forgiveness, she gives in. I, in the process, fight with both of them before getting threatened with physical violence by my dad. Yep, we're the fucking Brady's over at the DuGrey household.
But, I digress.
Still, despite my rather tumultuous family life, I always felt like that while my life seemed rather fake and stuffy at times, something always came along and made me realize how good I really had it, despite its flaws. Made me really recognize it. Charisse was one of those things. Then, this was followed by an extremely bad event that sent that realization up in flames. Either way, both of those stand out as significant events, chinks in the wood, something that altered my existence significantly. I sigh. This is how I developed my aforementioned theory.
I pull up to a busy intersection, waiting irritably for the light to change. I finally get my signal and turn left.
And as I turn, somehow, I feel that something has changed.
So come to bed, it's getting late/there's no more time for us to waste/ remember how my body tastes/you feel your heart being to race…