Friday

When the alarm went off at seven, Lorelai woke up in a tangle of limbs, with Rory passed out beside her and Lane halfway falling off the foot of the bed. She groaned as she silenced the purring, fuzzy alarm clock before extricating herself from the odd triangle they formed. She eased Lane back onto the bed, shushing the young girl gently when she lifted her head, her eyes closed, to mumble something about protecting the Foo Fighters from cheese. Lorelai grabbed some (mostly) clean clothes off the floor on her way out of the room.

Immediately, she slumped to the floor and sat at the top of the stairs, her elbows on her knees and her forehead against her arms. She felt nauseous and ashamed as her mind cleared and she remembered the orgy of food from the night before, a marathon of all-American themed cuisine provided courtesy of Sookie—American chop suey, fried chicken, fried vegetables, clam chowder, cornbread, apple pie. Lorelai clutched her stomach, groaning; it was altogether an ill-advised endeavor, she thought.

For a split second, she thought about forgoing coffee and coddling her injured stomach before deciding against it. She changed her clothes in the laundry room as she waited for the coffee to perk, fishing a fresh pair of underwear out of the dryer and smelling her tee shirt for freshness before she did. After pouring the coffee, locating her shoes, and leaving a note for Rory and Lane on the table, she head towards the inn on foot.

It was when she reached the top of the drive to the Dragonfly that it was confirmed the day was only going to get successively weirder, as she was met with the unmistakable smell of manure and a pissy Michel waiting for her on the front steps.

"It is those horses," he told her. "They do not know to go only in the paddock."

"Oh, Michel, I do not need this now! I'm not showered and I have a food hangover!"

"I was not the one who brought those filthy animals into the business," he said.

The only thing she could think to do in response was chug her coffee and walk away.

The next seven and a half hours were an excruciating exercise in futility. She couldn't talk sense to Cletus and Desdemona, who largely ignored her pleas for cleanliness and consideration, nor would their caretaker give Lorelai any indication that it was possible to train horses to go in a box like cats. Her staff suddenly could not remember the simplest of instructions, Sookie was in a panic about the herb garden out back, and on top of everything else, not only was Emily calling every hour on the hour, Lorelai's father called as well.

Michel handed her the phone with a snarl. "I refuse to answer the phone if you insist on turning it into your personal line," he said, turning on his heel and stalking away.

Though she had never smoked, for a brief moment Lorelai had the overwhelming urge for a cigarette. Something, anything, she thought, to keep her from snapping.

"This is Lorelai," she sing-songed, pinching the bridge of her nose, dreading yet another barrage of questions from Emily.

"Lorelai, this is your father."

"Oh. Dad. Hi."

"I'm calling to inform you that I will be away for several days on business. I have to meet with some very important clients in Philadelphia," he told her.

"Philadelphia, huh? Steak and cheese," she said. "Liberty Bell." She paused. "When are you leaving?"

"Another hour or so. I also wanted to tell you that you should not feel obliged to keep to the Friday dinner arrangement while your mother and Rory are gone."

Lorelai dropped the pen she was holding and stood still a moment, unsure of how to answer him. "Oh," she said, at length. "Well. Ah, okay, I guess."

"Fine, then. I'll speak to you soon," he said.

"Dad, wait," she said, quickly.

"Yes?"

She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes before speaking. One of the kitchen staff walking past saw her squinting with her entire face and thought she looked like someone anticipating a shot in the arm with a very long, thick needle.

"You never really got to see the inn properly last week—"

"That is very true," he said, his voice flat.

"I'd like to correct that. Would you—would you like to come to dinner the opening night? I don't know if you'll be around then: it's a week from tomorrow, but I'd love it if you could come. Please," she added. "Dad?"

"This isn't an 'I'd love it if you could come' sort of invitation like the last, is it? No tricks, traps, no Jason springing from the corner ready to attack me for ruining his livelihood?" Richard asked.

Unbelievable, she thought. "No, Dad this is nothing like that. I just thought it would be nice if you could be here, so you could have a nice meal, and you wouldn't have to eat alone," she said.

After a pause, he replied that it did indeed sound like a fine idea and he would be happy to come.

"Good. Thanks, Dad. I look forward to seeing you," she said. "Have a safe trip. And call me when you get back."

When she hung up, she jumped to see Sookie standing at her elbow. "God, Sookie. You're lucky I'm not armed, I could have accidentally cut your head off."

Sookie giggled. "Jackson's coming over to take a look at the garden. He thinks I over-watered it. Who was that on the phone?"

"My dad."

"Did you just ask your dad to call you? Really?"

Lorelai shrugged. "My mom's going away. I guess I didn't want him to be lonely." She stood up straight, then, and realized what she had just said. "Who would have thought that I would actively try to cultivate a relationship with my parents? It's like the universe has turned upside down—my mother is jetting to Europe to get away from my father, I'm actually conversing civilly with both my parents, willingly, my child is leaving the country, and I'm dating Luke. Next thing you know, Harvey Fierstein will go on Ellen and tell the world that he's been mistaken all these years, he's really straight, they'll make out, and then Bono will show up, whip off his sunglasses, and announce that he hates orphans and starving people, after which Russell Crowe will enter from stage left and declare he's given up making movies to become a Buddhist monk." She looked at Sookie. "I'm really wishing now I hadn't said the whole thing about Harvey and Ellen, because that image is now permanently emblazoned in my mind. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Did you just say you're dating Luke?"

Lorelai covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide. "Shit. I did," she said. She grabbed Sookie's hand and dragged her to the hallway behind the stairs. "So," she said, "here's the thing: Luke and I are dating. Or more than dating, something, I don't know. It's a relationship-type-thing." Her words were coming out stilted, disconnected—she felt like a chattering monkey.

Sookie stood before her, her mouth opening and closing, no sound escaping her, until, after a moment, she began giggling shrilly. "You're dating Luke! You're in a relationship-type-thing with Luke!" She took Lorelai's hands in her own again and squeezed them tightly. "You're with Luke! That is such good news!" She stopped suddenly and lowered her voice. "How's the sex?"

Lorelai's mouth fell open. "Sookie!"

"Come on, don't leave me hanging!" Sookie cried. "And don't tell me you haven't done it yet."

"We haven't done it yet!"

"Seriously, Lorelai? I figured the minute you guys got together you'd be at it like rabid dogs. Although," she said, tipping her head to the side, "why rabid dogs would be going at it, I don't really understand."

"Oh, my God, Sookie, what do you think we are, like Pam and Tommy or something? We've only been seeing each other a week—not even a week, six days! And if you don't count the days I wasn't speaking to him, it's really only four days."

"You've been dating a week and you've already stopped speaking to him once? You've been dating a week and you didn't tell me?"

Lorelai softened. "I'm sorry, honey, it's just been a hectic week with Rory leaving and my parents…" She sighed. "We're not telling anyone yet, either. We want to sort of keep it to ourselves as long as we can."

Sookie nodded sympathetically before once again busting into giggles. "You're dating Luke! I'm so happy for you!"

"Have you really been expecting this?"

"God, forever. The whole town has. You guys are like, the Hepburn and Tracey of Stars Hollow. Without the whole married Catholic possibly violent alcoholic thing."

"Well, yeah, without that," Lorelai joked. "Seriously?"

Sookie rolled her eyes. "Come on, honey, you knew that."

"I guess I did."

"So you really haven't slept with him?"

"Sookie!"

"When it happens, I want details," Sookie said, poking Lorelai in the side.

At a quarter to three, Lorelai headed for home, half-jogging to reach the house in time. She slammed through the front door, shouting that the pipes in the honeymoon suite had burst a half an hour ago and that not only was she late, she thought she was going to kill someone.

"Mom," she said, stopping short in the living room. "You're here."

"Yes," Emily said.

"You're early."

"Well, we are about to leave for Europe, Lorelai, and international travel requires a bit more attention to timing than a coffee run into town."

And I thought things were going so well. She sighed. "So nice to see you, Mom. Is Rory around?"

"Upstairs."

Lorelai found Rory sitting in the center of the big double bed, scribbling a note furiously on a sheet of Jem and the Holograms stationary Lorelai kept on her bedside table. "Hey, babe, sorry I'm late," she said, flopping onto the bed. "You aren't writing me a Dear, Lorelai letter, are you?"

Rory smiled, relieved. "I wasn't sure you were going to make it. Grandma has the car making circles around the neighborhood."

"I'm sure that's going well. And you know I wouldn't miss saying goodbye to you," Lorelai said. "God, I have to say goodbye to you." She pushed the hair off Rory's face. "I love you so much, babe. I'm going to miss you. Horribly."

Rory's eyes filled. "I love you, too," she said. "And me, too, horribly."

With a sad smile, Lorelai kissed her daughter's cheek. "That makes sense," she said. "No crying, okay, because then I'll cry and you'll cry harder and then Grandma will have to come up and she'll cry and I don't need to see that."

Rory threw her arms around Lorelai and buried her face in her mother's neck. "Thank you," she said.

"What for, babe?"

"For pretending to be okay with me going, and for being nice about the whole Dean thing, even though I know you're disappointed, and for making this such an easy, good week, and for being my best friend and the best mom in the world, and—"

"I'm glad you added that thing about me being the best mom part, because before that I was sounding quite two-faced," Lorelai said.

"Mom," Rory began.

"I know, hon. I know. Come on, we should get you settled in the car."

They said their final goodbyes on the porch. Emily gave Lorelai a tight, motherly hug, accompanied by a "Goodbye, Lorelai. We'll call you at the first opportunity. Take care of yourself." Rory and Lorelai shared a long embrace; Lorelai whispered a thanks to Rory for taking leave of Babette and Miss Patty and the others earlier in the day, that they might have this moment to themselves. With a last "I love you," Rory and her grandmother slid into the car and left.

Lorelai went back into her empty house, sat on the floor of her living room, and wept. As she struggled to regain her composure, she silently prayed that her daughter would come back less broken than she left, that she would be able to face herself again, that the bitter disappointment she had for herself would be resolved. Lorelai wiped her face and looked around the living room, muttering that it was really a tall order, but that she was sure she had been good, most of the time.