A/N: I am very sorry for the wait. It's the end of school. In fact, I'm in the midst of finals. I do believe I may be the only person still in school. Anyway, thank you all so, so much for the feedback.
(To Becka, because while the beginning is the most difficult, the middle and the end aren't exactly a cinch themselves. Thanks for everything.)
Chapter Thirteen
"Rory!" Lorelai flounced down onto the bed. "Are you sleeping? You're sleeping aren't you?" She paused, expecting an answer. After a stretch of silence, Lorelai frowned, and looked over at her daughter. "Why are you sleeping?"
As a response, Rory shoved her head underneath her pillow, and held it in place for fear of her mother attempting to remove it. "Mmmph."
"Ah. Of course. That is why," Lorelai nodded. "Mom, I'm doing this common tradition called sleep that most sane people practice on a regular basis," Lorelai rambled, her voice high. It was a poor imitation of her daughter, but the best she could do on short notice.
"Rory? You do know that you and I do not usually practice the normal, sane traditions others do. Especially not on a day such as this one." She paused. "A day like this one, Mom? How could I have forgotten, it's —" Lorelai cut herself off, frustrated. "Rory, the whole banter thing does not work if you don't contribute. It's a two-sided relationship, babe."
"Mmmph."
"Don't take that tone with me!" Lorelai exclaimed, hopelessly. Sighing, she bounced once on the mattress, causing Rory to stir, but unfortunately remain still. Lorelai then stood with a pout, her arms crossed at her chest. Her daughter was in bed on Christmas morning, refusing to get up. She, the mother, was one second from whining and begging.
Something was wrong with this picture.
"Alright, I didn't want to have to do this, but it's the only surefire way to get you up." Lorelai lay down on the bed, and slowly lifted the pillow up and peeked beneath it. "Rory? Hello?"
"Mom."
"Rory."
"I'm tired."
"But… Christmas! Guess what I got you?"
"Oh no," Rory mumbled.
"I got you this great T-shirt with a little duck on it. Right under it, it says 'Got Water'. Ingenious, right? Not only is it a good-looking piece of clothing, but also a conversation starter. I guarantee people will ask about it."
"Shhh. You're not supposed to tell!"
"I also got you a pair of dangly earrings that will look great with your new green —"
"No, no! Stop, I'm up."
"I'm sorry. It had to be done." Lorelai paused, lifting the pillow farther into the air. "Why are you so tired?"
"I had trouble falling asleep last night."
"We could wait on the presents if you want."
"Waiting could endanger your mental health. Besides, we have to open gifts, so we can then get breakfast," Rory said, describing the usual routine.
"Speaking of morning meals, are we, uh, eating at Luke's today?" Lorelai asked carefully, baiting for an explanation of last night's events.
"Of course. Why wouldn't we?"
"I… I don't know," Lorelai stuttered, slightly surprised at Rory's nonchalance. "I just thought maybe you and a certain person who happens to work at the diner had another fight. But I really don't know where I could have gotten such an idea. It's not as if this unnamed person walked out in a huff or anything last night. Oh wait…"
"It was nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Yes."
"One hundred percent, don't worry about it, a simple misunderstanding that is barely worth speaking about?"
"Yes."
"So… what was this nothing all about?"
Rory's words were sluggish almost as if hesitant to come out at all. "He told me he loved me."
There was a long pause in which Lorelai stared dumbfounded at the ceiling, her eyes following the cracks in the paint that led nowhere. She glanced over at her daughter. "That doesn't sound like nothing," she said.
A sting of new hurt sprung up within Rory's stomach, heightening with each second. It uncoiled in the middle of her chest, pressing too heavily on her heart.
"I think he was lying."
----
The morning had taken a turn for the better once Rory had clammed up, insisting she did not want to discuss, well, anything. Instead, both women ambled out of the bedroom, ready to officially begin Christmas. Presents were opened, the wrapping paper was discarded, and the empty space beneath the tree was mourned. They both dressed, leaving the living room a complete disaster, a sort of tribute to the holiday and their apathy for organization.
Their trek to Luke's was uncharacteristically silent, filled with only the muffled shuffling of their shoes in the snow. The town was quiet, a majority of its citizens celebrating at home. Most of the storefronts were dark and still, the doors locked up tight. For a moment, Stars Hollow felt timeless. The suspended feeling crept through Rory's jacket, making her uncomfortable. All she wanted was movement forward. Right now, she felt stuck.
A warm blast of air pulled her and her mother into the diner, the bell ringing melodically over their heads. Immediately she tensed, preparing herself for the complete disregard of her presence, or at the very least, a cold glance. In cases like this one, he usually opted to ignore her. He had certainly become very good at it.
Instead, she found his usual spot behind the counter empty. She supposed she should be breathing in a sigh of relief. She choked on the air.
"Merry Christmas!" Lorelai said upon seeing Luke. "You're wearing your baseball cap." Disappointment rang through clearly in her voice.
"And this is unusual how?" Luke asked.
"That's just it. It's not unusual. It's routine. But today's Christmas, and I thought maybe you'd spruce it up a bit. With a… oh, I don't know… a Santa hat?"
"You honestly believed I would wear one of those big red and white cap… things?"
"Yes. But I now realize how wrong I was. Come, Rory, let's sit. It seems Luke hates Christmas."
"I love how you jump to conclusions like that," Luke muttered, watching the pair move to the closest table.
"See how he doesn't even deny it?" Luke pulled out an order pad, and moved to the side of their seats. "I'll have pancakes. I want them with a whip cream beard, and cherry eyes."
"I'm not making you a Santa pancake, Lorelai."
"What if I begged?"
"No."
"What if I simply asked very nicely?"
"No."
"What if I —"
"Luke, where's Jess?" Rory interrupted.
"Upstairs."
"He usually works mornings."
"I gave him the day off. Kind of like his Christmas gift with an extra bonus for me in the form of a sarcasm free day."
"Oh."
"She'll have a Santa pancake too," Lorelai said quickly. "Extra beard on hers."
"I talk and talk, and no one hears."
"I'm sorry, what?" Lorelai asked Luke, smiling.
"Coming right up." He turned and headed for the kitchen.
Lorelai gave her daughter a sidelong glance, considering what to say. "I let you off the hook too easily this morning. The promise of presents was distracting. But I'm back now… in full mother mode."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Jess told you —"
"I thought we agreed not to talk about this."
"I know! I'm just… confused. Take me through the course of last night. Bring me up to speed. How did we get from love to walking out?"
"We had a fight. He said what he said to fix things, and it didn't work. He walked out. Then we ate dinner. The end."
"Wow, thanks for that little walkthrough. Everything is so much clearer now."
An irrational burst of anger rose within Rory. She did not walk to talk about this. There was too much traipsing through her mind, clouding her thoughts. The night before, she had lain awake desperate for sleep, thinking about what had happened. She went through the scenes over and over in her head, spreading the words out in front of her, so she could figure it all out. Tendrils of doubt had grabbed at her as she thought of them outside on the porch. It worsened whenever she remembered how desperate he seemed, or the way he looked at her, when…
"I told him I loved him after he told me he was leaving last spring. I said it because I was scared and thought I was losing him. That's what he did last night."
"Oh," Lorelai drew out the word. "So… this was his first time saying it to you?"
"We're still discussing this. I don't understand why."
"I just thought that if it was… then, it might be more than nothing."
"He didn't mean it."
"Are you sure?"
"Rory, Lorelai, Merry Christmas!" Babette exclaimed, walking into the diner. She headed over to them, smiling.
"Hi, Babette. Where's Morey?" Lorelai greeted, letting the former conversation drift off.
"He'll be along in sec. He wanted Apricot to try on her new hat first."
"Hat?"
"It ties under her little chin, makes her look a person!"
"With fur," Lorelai added.
"She's adorable! Morning, Rory," Babette said, glancing over at the younger girl. "Where's Jess? I thought he'd be sitting with you two."
Both Rory and Lorelai glanced up at their neighbor, baffled looks on both their faces. "Why would you think that?" Rory stammered out.
"I saw you two on the porch yesterday." She leaned forward, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "Under the mistletoe."
"Mistletoe?" Lorelai asked.
"The two of them were kissing, being all lovey dovey under it."
"There was kissing on my porch? My porch? Uh, we didn't get to that part, yet."
"I thought you and Jess had gotten back together," Babette commented.
"There is no me and Jess." The anger worsened, bringing with it spots of guilt. She tried to repress the thought of yesterday, the image of his arms around her, leaning close. "We are not back together, and we won'tbe getting back together! We broke up last June, and that's it!"
Rory paused, looking embarrassed. She hadn't meant to raise her voice. Quickly, she stood and walked out the door, heading for home.
Luke watched this unfold from the entrance to the kitchen, frowning. As soon as Rory had hit the door, Lorelai stood up, and looked over at him, apologetically. He nodded, and she turned and mumbled a goodbye to Babette before following the path her daughter had taken.
A moment later, Luke was up the stairs at the apartment door. He entered and found Jess standing in front of the open refrigerator.
At the sound of the door closing, Jess looked up. "There's no food in here."
"There's food down in the diner."
"I'd rather just eat up here. If I come downstairs, you'll put me to work."
"She's not down there, Jess."
Immediately, he stiffened. "Who?"
"So now we're back to this game. You know who."
Jess closed the refrigerator, giving up on his search and took a seat at the table. He glanced up at Luke. "She left?"
"How'd you know she was here?"
"I was on my way down when she had her little tantrum."
"You heard that?" Luke asked.
"Yup. What she said is old news. Don't know why everyone's dwelling on it."
"What happened?"
"Uh, I think Rory had a meltdown in the middle of the diner and then stormed out. And then you came up here…"
"Last night."
"You had dinner at the Gilmores?" Jess offered.
"And you didn't."
"Sorry about that. I couldn't repress the urge to leave. It's kind of this thing I do."
"What happened?"
"I yelled at her. Made her feel horrible. Made her cry. You know, the same old stuff," Jess waved it off, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Jess."
"What?" The word came out annoyed, frustrated. He had become so sick of all of this.
"I am not blaming you for anything that happened last night. I just want to know what it is that happened."
"I'm going out." Jess stood but before he could take a step, Luke moved forward and pointed to the chair.
"Sit."
Jess dropped back down, irritated.
"What happened?" Luke repeated.
"Nothing happened. She's just mad at me."
"Why?"
"She's been mad at me for the past six months. There's a whole assortment of reasons. Take your pick."
"So that's it? You two were talking and then she exploded on you for something that happened months ago?"
"Yup. That Rory Gilmore… she's unpredictable."
"I don't buy it."
"You don't have to."
"Look, Jess, I'm just trying to help, so —"
"Jesus, you don't have to play the 'concerned parent' card, alright? I don't need your help, or anyone else's for that matter. I'm just fine."
"You two were getting along perfectly fine when we got there last night. Rory was the one who invited you!"
Jess stood up again, this time brushing past Luke.
"Come on, Jess. I'm not trying to make you mad, I'm just —"
"Trying to help," Jess finished for him, spinning back around at the door. "You can't help with this. There is nothing to help. I told Rory I loved her, and she turned me down. See? It's over. There's nothing to fix." He threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him.
Luke simply stared.
----
Rory arrived home quickly, after nearly running down all the sidewalks. She shrugged off her coat, and went to hang it up but paused when she found something in the way. She hadn't noticed it earlier that morning, having tugged her own jacket off the hook with only a half glance, on the way out the door. But now she saw that hers had been covering someone else's up. And then she remembered. Jess.
She pulled it down, and put hers in the empty spot. She would have to bring this to him. It would be very unfortunate if he were to freeze to death without it. Not to mention, mostly her fault. She was the one who had made him walk out without it. She was the one who had avoided him. But he had deserved that. He had kissed her, making her think that yes, the two of them could start again, and this time work. He would tell her things now. She could trust him. An hour later, and he was talking to Dave about the perks of leaving home for California.
She wanted to forget it. She wanted the hurt and dishonesty to end. But the images of their bus ride came rushing back, bringing it with that old familiar feeling she had come to associate with Jess. Pain. He was like some sort of expert in hurting her, and she hated it. Sometimes, she thought she hated him. It was this constant wavering, love, hate, anger, pleasure; a thin line separating it all. Maybe this was the best they could do. Maybe they couldn't be happy again.
Sitting on the couch, she let the jacket lie in her lap. She felt a lump against her leg, something thick in one of the pockets. Curious, she reached in and pulled out a wrapped, rectangular gift. If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed it to be a jewelry box. She ran her fingers along it, looking for a name, or any other clue. When she saw the small R printed in the corner, she dropped it, stung.
It was for her.
Immediately, she shoved it back into his pocket and pushed the coat away. Looking away from it, she remembered hanging it up, him standing only a breath behind her. Close, leaning close.
If I didn't care, I wouldn't have stayed.
He didn't care. Not in the way he claimed. He couldn't. After everything that had happened, there was no way he could. How could he feel that through all the anger? He was just doing what she had done. Saying anything to fix things. Doing anything to fix things. It never helped.
I'm sorry. You know I am.
This was guilt, new and fresh and foreign. She knew he was sorry. She knew he wanted things to be good again. It was what she wanted too. He understood now that in order for things to get better, they had to speak to each other. Be honest with each other.
I love you.
Oh god.
----
It was late when she finally returned to diner. The sign on the door said "Closed", but she saw Luke inside, wiping down the counter. She knocked and he nodded, signaling that he had not yet locked up. She entered, Jess's jacket in her hand.
"Hi, Luke."
"Hey, Rory. Coffee?"
She stepped closer to the counter. "Actually, I was wondering if Jess was home."
"Yeah, he's upstairs."
"Can I go…"
"No." Surprise registered on her face, and Luke hurried on, "He's on the phone. With his dad."
"Oh."
"He calls. Sometimes. Once in a while," he clarified. "To say hi."
"I know. Jess told me." She paused, sitting down. "I guess I'll have that coffee then?"
"I don't know how long he's going to be. Maybe you should just… head home."
"I really need to talk to him."
"I'm not sure he wants to… talk to you."
There was that deer caught in the headlights look again. "He's mad at me, and I want him to not be," Rory explained.
Luke kind of half shrugged, half nodded, and poured her a mug of coffee. He slid it in front of her.
"I think I made a mistake," Rory said quietly.
"I think you did too."
She fingered her coffee cup, but instead of taking a sip, she stared at Luke, eyes wide.
"He's trying, Rory."
"I know."
"He's here."
"That shouldn't be something he should get congratulated on. You're here, I'm here. I didn't try to skip town."
"You didn't meet your dad at closing time or find out you weren't graduating. You didn't have to think about how you were going to explain it to the people around you."
"Are you saying this is my fault?" Rory asked.
"No, what I'm saying is… it's not all about you." His voice was gentle, trying to get her to understand. "Jess running away had very little to do with you when you think about everything else."
Rory stared down into her cup, silent.
"But despite everything else, you were enough to stay for."
And there it was. Rory tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.
A thumping came down the stairs that caused both Rory and Luke to look over at the curtain. Jess was heard before he was seen.
"Luke, have you seen my co—" He broke off his train of thought as soon as he spotted Rory at the counter. "Never mind," he finished, and headed for the exit.
After a slight hesitation, Rory jumped off the stool and headed after him.
"Jess!"
He kept walking.
"Jess, wait!" She caught up beside him. "Jess?"
"I have to keep moving. Can't let the hypothermia set in."
"Here," she said, offering his jacket. "You left it at my house."
"Great, thanks," he replied, grabbing it, and walking faster.
She kept up with him. "Jess, can we talk. Please."
"I'm kind of busy here."
"You need to stop walking away."
He froze, and she did as well. He scowled at the snowy sidewalk before meeting her eyes.
"Whenever we fight, you always walk away before we have a chance to fix it," she said.
"Right. I walk away. You can add that to the list of other things I do wrong."
"Stop. I don't want to fight tonight. I want to make this better."
"You know what, Rory? I don't care."
"Don't say that. I just… I wanted to say I was sorry. I want to fix this."
"There's nothing to fix. You said it yourself in the diner this morning."
"You heard that?"
"Look, we've been in this weird, fucked up fight since June. At this point, I don't care anymore. I don't need this, Rory. I don't want this. I don't want —"
He cut himself off quickly, only half sure how he was going to finish the sentence. Rory seemed to get it though. The unspoken 'you' reverberated through her head, sinking in deep. Her. He didn't want her.
"I'm sorry," she said blankly.
He heard tears in her voice, and waited for the first to fall. Instead, she turned away and continued on without him.
----
Jess was very lucky she had left before she had begun crying. He had been convinced that he was going to have to watch. Her tears had the uncanny ability to pull guilt out of the dark crevice he had shoved it in. It would settle over him, invading his thoughts. He did not want to feel guilty about this. He had said what he needed to say, and that was that.
It was funny how much easier this was when he no longer cared.
That had been the tricky part. Letting the anger blur any other lingering thought of love for her or self-loathing for himself. He refused to feel hurt at her disregard for what he said. She didn't believe him? Fine. Whatever. He could deal with that as long as he didn't have to deal with her.
It was a sobering effect, realizing that all the effort that had been put in over the past few months was for nothing. He had gotten a last kiss, and a brush off. He had gotten mind games, and harsh words, and lingering glances. He had gotten anger, and desire, and pain, and ache. It was all mixed in there, this one big knot of the end of their relationship, twisted and tight, and unforgiving. She didn't need him. Fine. He didn't need her.
He did not want to hear her empty apologies so she would stop feeling bad. He did not want to give in so she can sleep better at night. It was unfair that she could do something wrong, and then fix everything with one 'I'm sorry'. He wasn't going to do it this way. Screw it. He wasn't going to do it at all.
Jess sat back on his bed, his jacket in his lap. He hadn't noticed it early, too preoccupied with escaping Rory, but it was heavier. There was a package in one of his pockets, sticking out quite obviously. He pulled it out, accidentally bringing out his gift as well. He shot the smaller box a disproving look, unhappy to have found it at all.
On the other package, he found his name written in Rory's neat, small script. Huh. She had gotten him a Christmas gift.
It crossed his mind to return it, leave it on her front porch where she could find it. Show her just how serious he was. But his curiosity urged him to open it. Why give it back? He didn't owe her anything.
Old School. Tobias Wolff. This Boy's Life, was Jess's immediate thought. He turned the book over, and glanced at the description on the back.
He scanned it, finding it was about a Jewish teen at a prep school in New England in 1960. The boy was in a literary contest, and the winners were rewarded the chance to meet with the famous author of the day. There were three different opportunities for three different authors.
Robert Frost. Jess internally shrugged at the name, unimpressed. The poet had become almost a cliché in his head thanks to the repetition of his best known poem at ceremonies and in commercials.
Ayn Rand. Well. It seemed as if Rory had wanted him to hate the gift.
Ernest Hemingway.
Oh. God. He wanted to swear, or throw something. He wanted to pace around the room, until he had emptied his head of all thought.
Here it was in his hands, all wrapped up in a hardcover novel. This was what he and Rory had bonded over in the beginning. Rand, Hemingway, a literary fight they got into again and again, one he could recite in his sleep. They had loved to pit these two authors against each other, teasing about their foibles, highlighting their better qualities. That was when their fighting always had an underlying pleasant quality to it. When their debates had had the right kind of heat that he could always heighten with just one touch.
This was it. Them. Their connection.
This was why he stayed.
Guilt, old and familiar, crept over him. His fingers felt heavy as he touched the cover.
He began to read.
