Defending Bjork
Chapter 20: Miss Gilmore's Guide to Compartmentalization
Disclaimer: Blah. Blah. Blah.
A/N: Thank you to every single person who has ever reviewed this story. I can't believe I'm almost at 500. You all make me very, very, very happy. Double thanks to anyone who reviewed it more than once. And infinite thanks to those of you who've been with me since the beginning. Plus, a special thank you to three wonderful ladies: Mai, Art Goddess – I love the banner, and I appreciate your patience and devotion to getting things just right; Elise – Thanks for reading the chapter as it progressed. I can't think of a better person to give me feedback than someone who I admire and genuflect before; and Sarah – There isn't much to say, except that I'm thankful we're family, and I appreciate that you hide how crazy you undoubtedly must think I am. You indulge my obsessions, and I appreciate it. Thanks all. – Becka
Standing near the bed on his side of the room, Luke buttoned his flannel shirt and looked around. It hadn't occurred to him until now just how much had changed in less than a year. His father's office now actually resembled a full-fledged apartment instead of a makeshift hole in the wall. There were two beds, two dressers, a table with two chairs. The additional space had provided enough room for Jess's things, and, with time, the place had taken shape. Beds made. CDs and books neatly filed against the wall. Jess's crumpled test still hanging on the refrigerator door. It looked like a home – something Luke had never thought possible before. He'd never even known he wanted it. But now, though most of Jess's things were still there, for the first time, the room felt empty.
With a weary sigh, Luke grabbed his baseball cap from the dresser and headed out the door. It clicked shut behind him, and then, not a second later, it flew open again as he marched back in. With a determined look on his face, he stormed across the room, picked up the phone – base and all, and carried it to the kitchen table. Sitting down, he picked up the receiver and started to dial. Then, remembering the early hour, he set it back down. After another slight pause, he turned to stare at it. Deciding he didn't care about the time, he picked up the receiver again and dialed the number. It took six rings before someone answered.
"Hello?" the woman said, her voice throaty with slumber.
"Liz?"
"Luke!" she said urgently, sitting up. "What's wrong?"
"Calm down. Nothing's wrong."
"What's going on?" a male voice asked in the background.
Luke heard a muffled reply but couldn't make it out, undoubtedly because Liz had covered the mouthpiece with her hand.
A couple seconds later, she was back. "Do you know what time it is?"
Luke glanced at the clock. "6:30."
"In the morning, Luke. 6:30 in the morning. You know I love you, but this better be good."
"Is Jess there?"
"I guess," she said ambivalently. "He was here last night, wasn't he?"
"Let me talk to him."
"What? Why?"
"Just put him on, Liz."
"It's 6:30 in the morning. I'm not gonna wake him up."
"He's used to it."
"Not from me, he isn't."
"Liz, who is it?" the male voice asked again.
"Shh," she chided. "It's my brother."
Luke sighed. "Who is that?"
"It's nobody."
"Jess just got there," he reminded her.
"So?"
"He doesn't need that."
"He's used to it," she replied, throwing his words back at him.
Luke frowned and rested his forehead in his palm. "Let me talk to him."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"He needs time to adjust."
"You've got to be kidding."
"We discussed this last night, Luke. He's with me again. I can handle him now. He isn't your responsibility anymore."
"He shouldn't have gone back."
"He's doing much better," Liz pointed out.
"He's been home for less than a day."
"He's been very sweet."
"Sure, he has. Put him on."
There was a long pause. He heard her take a deep breath, a familiar indication that she was about to say something he wasn't going to like. "Luke," she began hesitantly. "We appreciate everything you've done, you know that."
"Liz," he interrupted.
She ignored him and kept talking. "You've been a great uncle and the best big brother a girl could ask for. I'm glad I sent him to you. You really turned him around."
Luke started to interrupt, but she talked louder.
"But he's home now, and he's better, and I can take care of him. I'm his mother."
"Liz…"
"But I'll tell him you called."
"Hold on just a sec—"
"Bye Luke," she finished. An instant later, the phone clicked, breaking the connection.
"Are you sure you don't want to play hooky?"
"Mom," Rory reprimanded.
"C'mon, it'll be fun. We can go shopping and spend way too much money. Eat very unhealthy mall food. Ooh, and ice cream, which, on the plus side, is completely justified, given the current situation. And then we can see a movie. A matinee. When was the last time you and I went to a matinee together?"
Rory shook her head. "I can't skip school."
"Honey, just last night, in the span of an hour, you broke up with your first boyfriend and lost Jess to New York."
"Thanks for the recap," Rory frowned.
"I'm just saying, if anyone deserves a mental health day, it's you."
"I'm not going to be that girl."
"What girl?"
"The girl who skips school because her personal life sucks," Rory scowled.
"Oh, that girl! But I kinda like that girl. She's a great shopping buddy."
"Mom."
Lorelai sighed and waved her hand in the air. "I knew you'd never go for it."
"I'll just compartmentalize," Rory stated, nodding firmly. Seeing her mother's confused look, she continued, "I'll just push last night into a small corner of my mind and ignore it."
"Freud would not approve."
"Well, Freud didn't know what he was talking about. Compartmentalization is great," Rory affirmed. "It will allow me to sit happily in class and take notes without a care in the world."
"It will?"
She nodded. "If I do it right."
Lorelai patted her on the shoulder. "Good luck with that."
"Thank you."
"And on the plus side, tonight is Dad's shindig."
"Oh, right. Grandpa's big debut."
"See, it's perfect. You can just pull out your Dean/Jess compartment and mope all night."
"How is that perfect?"
"Trust me, no matter how grotesque and depressing the contents of that compartment are, they will be more fun than my father's party."
"Be supportive."
"Hey," Lorelai protested. "I am nothing if not supportive. What about last night?"
"I was talking about Grandpa."
"Oh. Well, I'll do my best."
Rory smiled and lifted her backpack onto her shoulder. "Thank you for last night though."
"You're welcome."
"I know you liked Dean, and I just… broke up with him… without warning you."
Lorelai gave her a supportive smile. "It was the right thing to do. It wasn't fair to Dean to…"
Rory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. "I know. I just… I didn't want to hurt him."
"I know."
Rory sighed. "I hurt him."
"I know," Lorelai said softly.
"I think he hates me."
"Give him time."
"And then there's Jess," Rory said, looking lost.
Lorelai hurried over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the door. "Compartmentalize, honey."
Rory cleared her throat and nodded. "Right, right."
"Think of fun things, like Calculus and Physics."
Rory smiled a little. "Very funny."
"Hey, it was your idea. Now, off to school you go," she ordered, shooing her away.
Rory
walked down the stairs then stopped abruptly. "Oh, no."
"What?" Lorelai asked, looking around.
"Dean's car," Rory pointed. "What do I do about Dean's car? Do I keep it?"
"It was a gift."
"But I can't just drive to school in Dean's car," she said anxiously. "How is that fair? Do I give it back?"
Lorelai squinted, considering the options. "I don't know."
"I can't drive Dean's car, and the bus already left. What am I supposed to do?"
"Okay," Lorelai said, making a snap decision. "You, compartmentalize. I'll bring you to school, and we'll figure out what to do with the car later."
"How?"
"I'll ask Miss Manners or something. We'll figure it out, I promise."
Rory nodded. "Okay."
"Okay? Compartmentalizing?"
"I'm trying."
"Good, let's get you to school."
"Please tell me you accidentally made the coffee twice as strong today," Lorelai begged, sliding onto a stool.
"I was just about to make a new pot. I'll see what I can do," Luke promised.
"How is it that you haven't been knighted yet? Sir Lucas Danes. It has a nice ring to it."
"It does, doesn't it?" he answered, smiling at her over his shoulder.
Lorelai grinned. "I'll write the Queen a letter."
"Sounds good."
"So, how are you?" she asked, concerned.
He turned around. "Okay."
"Have you heard from him?"
He shook his head. "Nah."
"But you talked to Liz, right?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"She seems to think it's for the best," he said flatly.
"Really?"
He shrugged. "She thinks she can handle him."
"And what do you think?"
Luke hesitated. "I know you and Jess didn't get along."
"It doesn't matter," Lorelai said sincerely.
Luke nodded. "Stars Hollow was good for him."
"You were good for him."
Luke tightened his jaw. "He'll be okay," he said, turning back to the pot.
Lorelai frowned. Then, surprising herself slightly, she added, "He was good for Stars Hollow."
"What?" Luke asked, turning to look at her.
"He spiced things up," she explained. "In his own way."
"Kinda like when you first showed up."
Lorelai grinned. "Yeah, kind of like that."
"He'll be okay," Luke repeated. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
She took a long sip. "Mmm… that's perfect," she commented, setting it down.
"Bad day? It's only noon."
"Rory broke up with Dean."
Luke's eyes widened. "She did what?"
"Broke up with Dean. Last night."
"Wow. Why?"
"It just wasn't working out."
Luke was speechless.
"I can't believe you didn't know. It's all over town."
"I don't listen to that stuff," he dismissed. "Is she okay?"
"She's compartmentalizing."
"Should I know what that means?"
"She'll be fine."
"Well, if there's anything I can do," Luke offered.
"Just keep the coffee coming. The stronger, the better."
"You got it," he promised.
There was a long silence.
"He will be okay, Luke."
"I know," he answered, not convincing her in the least.
"Rory, there you are!" Lane called, rushing over to her as soon as she stepped off the bus.
"Lane?"
"You would not believe the ridiculous rumors going around this place today! Did you know you broke up with Dean?"
Rory started to open her mouth, but Lane was rushing ahead full steam.
"How ludicrous is that? All day at school, everyone's talking about you and how you broke up with him through Dorothy Parker. Dorothy Parker?!? Gotta give the rumor mill points for creativity! It's probably that new girl, Alison. She seems like the writer type. Anyway, I kept telling everyone it wasn't true. I mean, if my best friend broke up with her first boyfriend, don't you think I'd be one of the first people to know? It's unbelievable! Can you believe that?"
During the course of Lane's rant, Rory's face had fallen and now possessed a very anguished expression.
"What's wrong?" Lane asked. "It isn't a big deal. We can put a stop to it. We will put a stop to it. You just need to release a statement, like celebrities do when false breakup rumors start. 'Dean and I are very much together. We don't know how these vicious rumors started, but we plan to sue the tabloids for all they're worth,' et cetera, et cetera."
"It's true," Rory said quietly.
"You're suing the tabloids?" Lane asked, confused.
"I broke up with Dean."
"You broke up with Dean?"
Rory nodded.
"Oh," Lane answered. She paused, processing the information. "How did I not know this?"
"There wasn't time," Rory explained. "I broke up with him, and then Jess left, and…"
"That one's true too?" Lane interrupted.
Rory nodded.
"Wow, okay. My world just suddenly became a very different place."
"I'm sorry."
"No, no, it's okay. I understand. It's just… wow! You broke up with Dean?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"It just – I just – I realized that we don't have a lot in common."
Lane gave her a skeptical look. "You just realized that?"
Rory hesitated, wanting to tell her friend the truth. Except, at this point, she wasn't exactly sure what the truth was. That she liked Jess? That they had more in common? That they'd kissed and it'd felt different than kissing Dean? Better? She met Lane's eyes. "I miss Jess," she said simply, not sure if it was an explanation but at least it was the truth.
Lane smiled, understanding. "I know. I mean, I suspected. Is he really gone?"
Rory sighed. "It looks that way."
"I'm sorry."
"What's everyone saying about him?" Rory asked, hoping for a clue.
"Not much. Just that he left. Mysterious 'til the end; I admire that about him."
Rory smiled a little.
"So you and Dean? That's it?"
"Yeah, that's it."
"And the Dorothy Parker thing?"
"Also true."
"Very creative," Lane complimented.
"Is he okay?"
"He seemed okay to me. Although, in retrospect, it probably didn't help that I kept patting him on the shoulder and saying, 'Don't worry, big guy! We'll get this all straightened out.'"
Rory grimaced.
"Yeah," Lane agreed. "So, how are you?"
"I'm okay."
"You're compartmentalizing, aren't you?"
"It's out of control," Rory admitted. "I need more compartments."
"Sorry, I used all of mine during the Henry mess. I have excellent ears though. We could talk; deal with this in an open, healthy way."
Rory sighed. "I'm not ready."
"Fair enough," Lane nodded, entwining her arm with Rory's. "We'll just have to find a new compartment then. Hey, how about this weather we having?"
Rory looked down at Lane and smiled. "Slightly humid," she commented as they strolled across town.
Setting his book on the stainless steel platform, Jess stared at the payphone. It was smudged with fingerprints, each one representing a person who had reached out and touched someone. He paused, counting them, wasting time. He'd done the exact same thing about ten times in the last day, in denial that most of the prints now belonged to him.
Around the booth, New York bustled. The sound of the city seemed louder to him now; unused to it, his ears rang with the din of blaring horns and hurried chatter. He picked up the phone and held it to his ear. The dial tone droned, blocking out everything else. He reached out to dial the number he had memorized, even though he'd called it only once. He pressed three keys before changing his mind and hanging up, an improvement over the two keys he'd reached several hours ago. Stuffing the book into his pocket, he looked around and quickly walked away.
As soon as he walked through the door, his mother's voice assaulted him.
"Jess, there you are," she exclaimed, hurrying over. She pulled him into an awkward hug, an annoying habit she had apparently developed again while he was away. He stiffened in her arms, not moving. She pulled away. "You know, when you were younger, you used to like it when I hugged you."
He looked at her blankly.
"You did," she repeated, ruffling his hair.
He moved to the side and walked past her into the living room. Immediately, his eyes fell on the unfamiliar, middle-aged man who was sprawled on the couch. Not particularly surprised, he turned back around and started to leave.
"Hey, hey, Jess," Liz said, gently grabbing his arm to stop him. "Wait a minute. I didn't get a chance to introduce you two last night."
"It's fine," Jess answered, his voice tight.
"Now, c'mon, if you're living here again, you two are gonna have to get to know each other."
She turned him around and guided him back into the living room. The man was still laying on the couch in the exact same position, a beer in one hand and the television remote in the other.
Jess's mouth set into a straight line.
"Rodney?" Liz called. The man turned his head slightly to look at her. "This is my son, Jess," she introduced.
"Hey," Rodney greeted.
"Jess, this is Rod."
Jess looked at her. "You call him Rod?"
"Yeah? Why?"
He shook his head, a small smirk forming. "Just seems appropriate, that's all."
Liz frowned. "Be nice, would you? Go shake his hand."
"No, thanks."
"Jess," she reprimanded. "Go shake his hand."
"It's okay, Lizzie," Rod interrupted. "My hands are kinda full." He held up the remote and beer can to prove his point.
Jess shook his head, amused. "Life's essentials, right, Rod?"
"That's right!" he agreed, oblivious to Jess's mocking tone.
"Great," Jess remarked. He turned to his mother again. "Can I go now?"
She released her hold. "Yeah, sure."
Without another word, he headed for the door.
"Oh, I almost forgot," she called after him. "Luke called this morning. He wanted to tal—"
The door slammed shut, cutting her off. She glanced at Rod, then walked over and plopped down on top of him. "See, he's sweet, huh?"
Rodney shrugged and lifted the can to his lips, finishing it off. Then, wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her close and covered her mouth with his.
Before she could give herself time to reconsider and flee, Rory reached out and rang the doorbell. As she waited, she nervously looked around at the yard. It all looked the same. Everything was the same, except she suddenly felt out of place.
The door opened, and she jerked her head in its direction.
"Oh, hi, Rory," the young girl said, not even attempting to hide her disappointment.
"Hi Clara. How are you?"
"Fine," Clara replied tersely.
"Is Dean around?"
"I don't know," she shrugged.
"Can you check?"
"I guess," Clara said, closing the door in Rory's face.
Rory sighed and waited. After a couple of minutes, the door opened again.
"He's busy."
"Oh."
"He said not to bother coming back later."
"Oh," Rory repeated again, feeling sick.
"Is that all?" Clara asked.
"Um, actually," Rory said quietly, fumbling in her pockets. "Can you give him something for me?"
Clara shrugged again. "I guess."
Rory pulled the key from her pocket and held it out to Dean's sister.
"What is it?"
"It's his key," Rory explained, looking down at it.
"To what?"
Rory's hand shook a little as she held it out. "His car."
"You mean, your car?"
"It's his car now," Rory answered.
Clara reached out and took the key.
"Thanks," Rory mumbled, turning to go.
"Why'd you break up with him?" Clara blurted.
Rory turned back around. "What?"
"We liked you. We all liked you."
"I know," Rory admitted, her voice catching in her throat.
"I thought you liked him."
"I did. I do."
"Then why'd you break up with him?"
Rory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, searching for an explanation. "I don't know," she finally answered.
Clara stared at her. "Oh."
Rory looked up, meeting the younger girl's eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't come back," Clara stated before going into the house and closing the door.
For a long moment, Rory just stared at the wall of wood in front of her. Then, blinking back tears, she turned and hurried down the sidewalk. She was almost to the corner when someone called out her name.
"Rory! Rory, wait!"
Wiping her hands over her face, she turned and waited. She didn't look up when he reached her.
"I don't want this," Dean said firmly, holding out the key.
"It's yours. I can't keep it."
"You're keeping it."
Rory didn't move. Dean trailed his eyes over her face; he could tell she'd been crying. Hesitantly, he reached out and lifted her hand from her side. Turning it over, he placed the key onto her palm and closed her fingers around it. "You're keeping it," he repeated.
"Why?" she choked.
"Because you need it to get to Chilton. School's important to you. That's why I gave it to you in the first place."
Rory shook her head and tried to hand it back. "I can't keep it. It isn't fair."
"You're right; it isn't," Dean agreed.
Rory looked up and met his eyes.
"But I want you to have it," he finished.
Rory didn't know what to say.
"At least until you get something else."
A tear rolled down her cheek. "Dean, I am so sor—"
"Don't," Dean interrupted. "This isn't supposed to mean anything. I gave you the car; it's yours. I never wanted it back."
"Okay."
He looked at her for another second. Then, he cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll see you around," he said flatly.
She opened her mouth to reply, but he was already halfway up the sidewalk.
"How'd it go?" Lorelai asked, looking up at her daughter as she walked in the door.
Rory flopped onto the couch beside her.
"Hmm… well, either you decided to go for the smudged mascara runway look for my father's party tonight, or it didn't go very well," she observed. She reached out and began wiping away the black smears under Rory's eyes. "What happened?"
Rory held up the key.
"You forgot to give him the key?"
"He wouldn't take it."
"The key?"
"Or the car."
"Oh."
"He said he gave it to me so I could get to Chilton, and he wanted me to keep it."
Lorelai gave her a small smile. "Well, Dean was always a very nice guy."
"I shouldn't have broken up with him," Rory stated.
Wiping away the last of the mascara, Lorelai pulled back and looked at her. "Are you still in love with Dean?" she asked seriously.
"I don't know. Maybe I never knew."
Lorelai nodded. "Okay, well, when you see him, how do you feel?"
Rory gestured uncertainly. "Safe. Comfortable."
"Those are nice things to feel."
"I know," Rory agreed.
Lorelai took a deep breath, fighting down her own feelings. "And what about Jess? When you see him, how do you feel?"
Rory sighed and pretended to be fascinated with the seam of her dress. "Off-balance, I guess."
"And?"
"Excited. Happy. Infuriated, sometimes."
Lorelai smiled a little and ran her fingers along a strand of Rory's hair. "Call me crazy, but I think you did the right thing."
"Clara hates me."
"She loves her big brother."
"Who also hates me."
"Dean doesn't hate you," Lorelai promised.
"You don't know that."
"I know he gave you a car. Twice. I'm pretty sure he doesn't hate you."
"He doesn't like me."
"Maybe not right now, but I have a feeling he will someday."
Rory sighed and ran her hands over her face. "We have to go to grandpa's party."
Lorelai looked at her watch and nodded. "I think there's just enough time to fix your makeup and make a very important stop."
"Where?"
"Luke's. I may not be able to solve everything, but I will not let you starve," Lorelai promised, helping her daughter to her feet.
"Mmm, God bless Luke," Rory crooned, drinking the last of her coffee as they pulled into the parking lot.
Shifting into park, Lorelai turned off the engine and looked at her daughter. "Okay, one thing before we go in there."
"What?" Rory asked.
"There is a possibility – a very slight, small, practically nonexistent possibility – that my mother might ask us if we're over our flu."
"What? We didn't have the flu."
"Yes, you know that, and I know that, but Emily doesn't know that."
"Why does Grandma think we have the flu?"
"Uh, well, do you remember last Friday?"
"Yes, it's still pretty clear."
"Remember how there was no Friday night dinner?"
"Grandma and Grandpa were out of town," Rory confirmed.
"If by 'out of town,' you mean 'home in Hartford, sipping glasses of wine by a toasty
fire,' then, yes, they were out of town."
"Mom! They weren't out of town?"
"Not exactly."
"We skipped Friday night dinner?"
"We were sick," Lorelai clarified.
"Unbelievable."
"Hey, you were tutoring Jess, and I was getting very important cooking lessons. Don't you want a real Mommy who can cook?"
"I tutored Jess on Thursday not Friday," Rory corrected.
"Eh, technicalities," Lorelai dismissed.
"I can't believe you lied to me about Friday night dinner."
"You never would've agreed to it."
"You could've done the cooking lessons another night," Rory pointed out.
"Hey, Luke is a very busy man. I was lucky he was even available that Friday."
"Mom…"
"Okay, so I forgot about Friday night dinner until it was too late."
"Oh, please," Rory groaned.
"I needed a break, Rory. They'll never know the difference."
"So now I have to lie to them?"
"I can do all of the lying."
Rory sighed and undid her seatbelt. "I'm never going to trust you again, you know. If they go out of town, I expect a written itinerary."
"I'll start drafting it as soon as we get home," Lorelai teased.
Rory gave her a look and got out of the car. "The flu?" she asked.
"Hey, it was going around. Bunny Carlington-Munchausen had it. Mom bought it hook, line, and sinker. It practically wrote itself."
"We're staying an extra half hour tonight," Rory ordered.
"What? No way!"
"You do the crime, you pay the time," Rory reprimanded. "Let's go."
"Okay, then what's the punishment for your indiscretions with Magnet Lips Mariano?"
Seeing Rory's less-than-amused expression, Lorelai waved her hand. "Fine, fine. Thirty extra minutes. That's it!"
"Oh, okay," Lorelai said, taking several deep breaths. "The claustrophobia is beginning to subside. I feel air. Cool air. Nice, refreshing, cool air. And if I'm not mistaken, this nice, refreshing, cool air has not been contaminated with the exhalations of a thousand insurance men."
Rory wrinkled her nose. "Ew."
"C'mon, I know you're with me. We were resembling sardines in there."
"It was a little crowded," Rory agreed. "But that's good. It means Grandpa's new business is going to do just fine."
Lorelai looked at her watch. "An hour and a half! Look at this," she said, pointing at the time. "You made me stay an hour and a half longer than planned. We agreed on thirty minutes."
"Have you learned your lesson?"
"Boy, have I ever! I am the mother. You are the child."
Rory shook her head. "Nope, wrong lesson. Should we go back in?" she asked, gesturing towards the door.
"No! God, no! Uncle!"
Rory grinned proudly and climbed into the Jeep. "I can't believe there's no more Margie," she commented sadly.
"I can't believe my mother picked the new secretary. It's going to be the maid merry-go-round all over again."
"Karen seems very nice."
"Exactly! Buh-bye, Karen! Nice knowin' ya."
"Aw, c'mon, Karen has potential," Rory argued.
"I give her a week."
"Wow, you're feeling optimistic today."
"My mother still thinks we had the flu; I have a feeling I'm entering a lucky streak."
"You do know that the flu doesn't generally cause a limp, right?"
"So I played it up a little," Lorelai shrugged. "She seemed to buy it."
Rory smiled. "By the end there, Grandma was willing to buy anything."
"I know!" Lorelai grinned. "I guess we shouldn't have spiked the punch."
"We? I had nothing to do with that."
"That's not the story I'm telling."
"Oh, great," Rory moped, settling in as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"Just develop a limp," Lorelai suggested. "She'll forgive you."
"It was a nice party. Grandpa seemed happy."
"He did, didn't he?" Lorelai agreed, smiling.
They drove for a while in silence. Eventually, Rory turned to look out the side window, watching the scenery go by.
Lorelai glanced over and saw her brush her hand across her cheek. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, taking peeks at her as she drove.
Rory shrugged and shook her head.
Lorelai frowned and reached out, taking Rory's hand in hers and squeezing it gently. "Those compartments never seem to hold, do they?"
Rory shook her head and sniffled.
Lorelai held her hand, rubbing her thumb across it soothingly for the rest of the way home.
When they pulled into the driveway, Rory looked up at the house then turned to her mom.
"I'm gonna go for a walk."
"Are you sure?" Lorelai asked. "It's awfully late."
Rory nodded. "I won't be gone long."
"Okay."
With a small smile, Rory unbuckled her belt and climbed out of the car. Lorelai watched as her daughter headed down the sidewalk and around the corner, then she got out of the car and went inside.
The night air was definitely cooler now. Rory wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her jacket tight. She followed a familiar route and soon found herself walking down the path towards the bridge.
As she walked across it, her feet making the familiar hollow thumps against the wood, she noted how strange it felt not to see Jess there. For the past few months, he'd been as much of a fixture as the bridge itself. Reaching the middle, she sat down and let her legs hang over the water. She watched the wavering image of her shoe drift back and forth beneath her, its outline breaking with each gentle lap.
After a while, she let her eyes drift out across the small expanse of water. It was a cloudy night, and the moon was mostly hidden. The lake looked black and dark. Everything looked black and dark, she noted, glancing around.
She was just about to turn her gaze back to the water when her eyes fell on something white off to her left. It was clearly visible, a stark contrast to the darkness. She squinted, trying to make it out, but it was too small. Too curious to ignore it, she stood up and walked across the bridge. As she got closer, she could tell that it was paper, but it was only when she was standing right above it that she realized what it was.
Her breath caught, and she knelt down, picking it up quickly. As she stood up again, she brushed away the dirt that clung to its surface. The paper was stiff and crisp, a result of being wet one second and abruptly sun-baked the next. She gently reshaped it with her fingers. It was slightly worse for wear – its little eyes and whiskers long washed away, one of its feet lost somewhere in the lake, but it was still perfect.
Tearing her eyes away from it, Rory looked around, almost expecting him to be nearby to share in her discovery. But he wasn't.
She looked back down at the little rabbit. Her heart started to pound, registering her sudden decision an instant before she made it. Keeping a tight grip on the tiny rabbit, she hurried across the bridge towards home.
As soon as she walked through the door, Rory looked around for her mother.
"Marco," she called breathlessly.
"Polo," Lorelai yelled from the kitchen.
Rory moved quickly in its direction.
Lorelai was standing at the counter, scooping ice cream into two bowls. "I figured you'd be home about now," she said, licking a drip off her finger. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rory's flushed cheeks. She turned all of the way around and leaned on the counter, waiting.
Meeting her mother's eyes, Rory took a deep breath. Then, in a steady voice, she said firmly, "I'm going to New York."
