Chapter 9: A Ballad To Sleep To

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Rory

The doorbell rings, and Susie sets down her coloring book.

"Whosit?" she asks. I shrug, and look towards the kitchen. The door swings open and Liz, a worried look on her face, walks quickly through the living room. She flashes me a fast nervous smile, and then slows to a stop in front of the door. Jess stalks out of the kitchen and settles on the couch between me and the arm. Brett crawls over me and settles on Jess as Liz pulls the door open.

A man is standing there, with a few days' stubble and dark brown hair poking from beneath a black baseball cap. Susie gives him a second glance, but ultimately decides that he doesn't interest her. Brett, however, springs from Jess' lap and runs to the man.

"Grampa!" she screams, wrapping her arms around his legs. It is only when he bends down to pick her up do I notice the woman standing behind him. My first thought is that it's Sasha, his girlfriend, but this woman doesn't quite match Jess' description. This woman's hair, while almost white-blonde, is too long; her face is too youthful; and I'm not quite sure that the laid-back Sasha would be caught dead in this woman's professional looking skirt and jacket. The woman seems shocked at the appearance of the toddler, and backs up a step.

The man, who I assume to be Jimmy, notices her wariness and pulls her into the apartment with his free arm. She practically falls over the threshold, glances at Brett again, and runs past her. When she turns away from Brett, she stops, suddenly, and falls into a large armchair facing the couch.

"Jess," she says quietly, coldly, staring at him.

He nods and opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He swallows, clears his throat, and then glances at me before saying, "Ivy."

Ivy. Ivy? Ivy?? As in Brett's mom Ivy? As in the only person Jess has gone out with since we broke up?

Oh, I'm dizzy. Am I dizzy? Am I going to collapse? This is a sign. This is a sure sign that Jess and I are not meant to be together. The only other thing that could cement this would be if, I don't know, Eric were to call me out of the blue. But how utterly contrived and Dawson's Creek-like would that be?

It's not gonna happen.

My phone rings.

Jess

Rory's purse starts playing "YMCA" by the Village People, and her face pales. I have a feeling that Lorelai played with Rory's cell phone before we left Stars Hollow this morning. Rory stands up, dumps Susie into my lap, and smiles apologetically. She picks up her purse and hurries into the kitchen. After a second, the tinkly song stops playing, and I turn back to face Ivy.

"How are you?" she asks in that same damn tone, calm and collected, like we're old rivals, instead of parents.

"Alone. Working my ass off," I say fiercely, practically under my breath. How dare she show up now? I fucking just saw the real love of my life after a damn five years!

Ivy just nods and looks away. Jimmy walks over and sits in the spot Rory left vacant.

"How ya doin', Jess?"

I shrug. "I'm busy." Susie clambers from my lap down to the floor to continue coloring. Brett immediately jumps from Jimmy's lap to mine. She gives me a quick hug, before turning around and leaning into my chest, facing Ivy.

Jimmy nods, and glances toward the kitchen. "Who's the girl?" he leans over and asks conspiratorially.

"Rory," I say simply. Jimmy glances at Lizzie and nods slowly.

"Be right back," he says quickly. He stands from the couch and wanders over to Lizzie; they stand and talk quickly in hushed tones.

"Who're you?" Brett asks, causing Ivy to quickly look at her.

"Uh...." Ivy stammers.

"That's Ivy," I explain to Brett.

Ivy breathes, and relaxes a bit. She gives her daughter a half-smile. "Hi."

Brett turns around, burying her face in my shoulder. "I don't like her," she wails softly, causing Susie to look up from her book. The two-year-old stands, carrying her book and crayon over to us. She lays them both in my lap and pats Brett on the back, before heading back to her bag of toys.

"It's okay, sweetie," I say softly, prying Brett from my shoulder and turning her around. "Look what Susie gave you." I hand the coloring book and crayon to Brett, and set her on the floor next to the coffee table. She starts coloring, her tongue between her teeth, her tears forgotten. I look back at Ivy.

"Sorry," she says quietly.

"For what?" I ask angrily, but softly.

"Everything," she whispers.

I shake my head. "It's too late now. Your own daughter doesn't like you." I stand, so I'm towering over the sitting 5'11" Ivy. "You've been replaced," I say quietly, menacingly, before stalking into the kitchen.

Ivy

I never wanted a damn baby. I have always been focused on being an independent woman: no relationships of any kind. After my parents died, it just reiterated everything for me. Stupid Jess Mariano was hilarious, all wry and sarcastic, and not even realizing that he was so fucking stupid--making fun of Venice Beach, the hemp vendors, the bikini-clad natives and tourists alike. He was so unoriginal, I just had to hang around him until he decided to come up with his own material. Unfortunately, he had some kind of unresolved celibacy issues with his ex-girlfriend, and projected her image onto me, and I was bored, so we had sex one night.

One night.

One time.

It was even safe sex, for crying out loud.

Yet, three weeks later, my period was AWOL, I was puking the second anything with a stronger smell than water was in a ten-mile radius of me....

And the goddamn stick? Turned pink.

Jess, annoyed with me, threw his entire heart and soul into taking care of me "for the baby".

And he was so thrilled when she was born. I just knew, the second he held her in his arms, he was going to be enamored with her forever.

I, on the other hand, had gotten sick of her three weeks after her conception.

I refused to name her, letting Jess do it. I offered to let him take her home for "the first week". He was thrilled, rocking her in the nursery less than an hour before she was to go home. While he was rockin', I was walkin'. The doctors said that after twenty-four hours, I could leave. So, I did.

After four years, I started to feel bad, so I looked up Jess' dad. He said he'd take me to Jess' mom's house, where she could prep both me and Jess for seeing each other again.

My timing never was good.

Jimmy opens the door and the little girl comes running to him.

God.

I'm so freaked out....

Then I see Jess, sitting next to this beautiful brunette. The brunette's got her own little girl in her lap.

I all of a sudden don't want to see Jess or the little girl anymore. I wonder why I ever wanted to. And then he treats me like shit...which, needless to say, I am.

My own daughter hates me.

That brunette's my replacement.

I jump from my seat and exit the apartment. I run down the six flights of stairs and fling myself out the door, running through Greenwich Village as quickly as I can. The second I reach Washington Square Park I plop onto a side of the fountain and bury my head in my hands.

I'm going back to California as soon as I can. Jess and my daughter are better off without me.

Jess

"Rory, we need to leave. Now," I say the second I enter the kitchen. She hangs up her phone, slowly, and drops it into her purse. "You okay? Who was that?" I ask, forgetting all about Ivy.

"That was Mom."

I stare at her expectantly. "And?" I ask after a second.

"She's...pregnant."

"What? Again?"

"Yeah." She nods. She bustles past me and starts to the living room. "She just got the call a few minutes ago. She says we definitely need to stay here tonight so she can tell Luke." Rory throws all of Susie's loose toys into her toy bag, and then sits on the couch, pulling Susie into her lap. "Can we leave now?" she asks quietly, pulling Susie's previously discarded socks back on.

I nod, and perform a similar routine with Brett, sitting next to Rory. After a minute, Jimmy and Lizzie reappear from a back room and stop when they notice our leaving rituals.

"Wait! You're leaving?" Lizzie asks, rushing over.

Rory and I nod at the same time.

"But what about--" Lizzie turns around to point to Ivy, but pauses when she realizes that Ivy's gone. "Where's Ivy?" she asks, turning back around.

I shrug.

"Jess," Lizzie sighs.

Rory glances between Lizzie and me, and then kisses me quickly on the cheek. "I'll take the girls to the car." She hoists Susie to her hip and holds out her other hand for Brett to hold. She kind of waves goodbye to Lizzie and Jimmy, and then makes a grateful exit.

"What?" I ask, turning back to my parents.

"What happened to Ivy? She was ready to be a family again," Lizzie says importantly.

"Again? There's no again about it! The only thing that could slightly qualify Ivy for motherhood is being biologically related to Brett. But Brett hates Ivy, Ivy's too immature to even care about her daughter for four damn years, and she ran away. She just disappeared, without telling anyone she was leaving. I can almost guarantee you that we'll never hear anything from her again." I pick up Susie's forgotten toy bag and sling it over my shoulder. "I've gotta go. I'll call you." I exit the apartment angrily and stumble down the six flights to the street.

"Let's go home," Rory says wearily as I climb into the SUV.

"But Lorelai--" I start to protest. Rory interrupts me.

"Let's drop Susie in Stars Hollow and go home. I don't want to be away anymore."

"Okay," I agree, easing the car into traffic. I'm wondering whether Rory means home as in Atlanta itself, home as in her house, or home as in my house when she puts one hand on my arm.

"No...let's leave Brett and Susie with Liz and go back to the hotel."

I raise my eyebrows but agree, turning down the next side street to get back to Lizzie's.

Rory stays in the car while I give the girls to my parents, who offer to keep them till the morning as long as they have every phone number imaginable. Rory seems worn out as we drive to the hotel and check in. My musings are confirmed when she collapses on one of the twin beds and immediately starts sleeping. I lift the blanket from the other bed and cover her with it. I softly settle on the opposite bed and watch as a single strand of her hair draped over her face rises and falls as she breathes in and out.