Rory and Lorelai were both exceedingly stubborn, two of the most stubborn
people on the planet. Back in Stars Hollow, the only thing that had gotten
them to resolve a huge argument had been someone, usually Luke, telling
them that they should. However, with Rory in New York and Lorelai back in
Stars Hollow, there was no reason for either of them to pick up the phone
and call. So they didn't.
Five more years had passed, and they still hadn't made up. They hadn't called. They hadn't written. And now Rory found herself sitting on the bed she had left in the house she had left in the town she had left. But why? She had no clue.
Rory smoothed the quilt as she stood and walked over to the bookshelf. All of the photos she had left were still there. Her and Dean. Her and Jess. Her and Lorelai. Wow, they looked young. Rory at seventeen, so Lorelai must have been... thirty-four? Rory in front of Lorelai, Lorelai's arms wrapped around her. They were both laughing. Rory picked the picture up and held it close to her eyes. It was as if, if she held it close enough, she could jump in. Jump back to that time.
But why now? After five years of not caring if she saw Lorelai and ten years of not caring if she saw this town again, why now? Why come back? So many reasons, and yet none at all, all of which seemed trivial now that she was actually back.
She walked back out of her room, out of the house, closing the door behind her and locking it, replacing the key in the turtle and getting back into the car. She drove, knowing only subconsciously where she was headed, not wanting to face it. Face what she might find waiting for her at Hartford Memorial.
When she finally arrived, she got out of the car faster than she would have expected. She walked in the doors and up to the receptionist's desk. "Hello."
"Hello, may I help you?"
"Yes. I'm, uh. . ." Rory looked around the room, losing her train of thought.
"Yes?" The receptionist pressed.
"Sorry. I'm, uh, looking for Lorelai Gilmore."
"Oh. Yes. Miss Gilmore. Room 306."
"306. Thank you." Rory stood at the desk a moment longer.
"The elevators are that way." The receptionist pointed.
"Oh. That way. OK. Well, then, I'd better, go on over, to the elevators. Room 306, so that would be on the third floor?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Thank you." What was this? Rory was cool. Calm. Collected. Always. She hadn't acted like this since high school, maybe college.
She got on the elevator and pressed three. She watched the little light as it moved from one to two and she heard a ding. That ding was like a jolt into reality. Oh. My. God. She couldn't do this! What was she doing, going to see Lorelai after all these years? What was this?
Rory got off on the third floor and then ran to the fire stairs. She walked down half a flight and then plopped down on the cold stone, resting her face on the metal banister.
"You all right Miss?" A 17 year old boy, an orderly, passed her sitting on the staircase. She tried to muster up a smile.
"Yes, fine."
"You want me to call someone?"
"No, no thank you. I was just. . ." She stood and walked back up the stairs. "Thank you," she said over her shoulder.
"No problem."
Rory walked down the hallway and found room 306. She stood in front of it a moment. A bit longer. She looked at her watch and counted out two minutes by the second hand. She drew in a breath and slowly pushed the door opened.
She forgot to breathe until she realized that she was out of air, and when she tried, she found she couldn't. Her breath caught in her throat like she was choking on it. She had to keep her hand on the doorknob. If she let go, she thought she may fall, smack, head on the linoleum. Pass out right there on the floor of room 306.
"Hello, Rory." Calmly. Slowly. Normal. As if not a day had passed. As if she hadn't left at all. As if she was still twenty-one years old. Living at Yale. Coming home every chance she got. Coming home just to do her homework. Coming home for just a decent cup of coffee. She found her breath somewhere, and then, slowly, her voice.
"Luke."
Five more years had passed, and they still hadn't made up. They hadn't called. They hadn't written. And now Rory found herself sitting on the bed she had left in the house she had left in the town she had left. But why? She had no clue.
Rory smoothed the quilt as she stood and walked over to the bookshelf. All of the photos she had left were still there. Her and Dean. Her and Jess. Her and Lorelai. Wow, they looked young. Rory at seventeen, so Lorelai must have been... thirty-four? Rory in front of Lorelai, Lorelai's arms wrapped around her. They were both laughing. Rory picked the picture up and held it close to her eyes. It was as if, if she held it close enough, she could jump in. Jump back to that time.
But why now? After five years of not caring if she saw Lorelai and ten years of not caring if she saw this town again, why now? Why come back? So many reasons, and yet none at all, all of which seemed trivial now that she was actually back.
She walked back out of her room, out of the house, closing the door behind her and locking it, replacing the key in the turtle and getting back into the car. She drove, knowing only subconsciously where she was headed, not wanting to face it. Face what she might find waiting for her at Hartford Memorial.
When she finally arrived, she got out of the car faster than she would have expected. She walked in the doors and up to the receptionist's desk. "Hello."
"Hello, may I help you?"
"Yes. I'm, uh. . ." Rory looked around the room, losing her train of thought.
"Yes?" The receptionist pressed.
"Sorry. I'm, uh, looking for Lorelai Gilmore."
"Oh. Yes. Miss Gilmore. Room 306."
"306. Thank you." Rory stood at the desk a moment longer.
"The elevators are that way." The receptionist pointed.
"Oh. That way. OK. Well, then, I'd better, go on over, to the elevators. Room 306, so that would be on the third floor?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Thank you." What was this? Rory was cool. Calm. Collected. Always. She hadn't acted like this since high school, maybe college.
She got on the elevator and pressed three. She watched the little light as it moved from one to two and she heard a ding. That ding was like a jolt into reality. Oh. My. God. She couldn't do this! What was she doing, going to see Lorelai after all these years? What was this?
Rory got off on the third floor and then ran to the fire stairs. She walked down half a flight and then plopped down on the cold stone, resting her face on the metal banister.
"You all right Miss?" A 17 year old boy, an orderly, passed her sitting on the staircase. She tried to muster up a smile.
"Yes, fine."
"You want me to call someone?"
"No, no thank you. I was just. . ." She stood and walked back up the stairs. "Thank you," she said over her shoulder.
"No problem."
Rory walked down the hallway and found room 306. She stood in front of it a moment. A bit longer. She looked at her watch and counted out two minutes by the second hand. She drew in a breath and slowly pushed the door opened.
She forgot to breathe until she realized that she was out of air, and when she tried, she found she couldn't. Her breath caught in her throat like she was choking on it. She had to keep her hand on the doorknob. If she let go, she thought she may fall, smack, head on the linoleum. Pass out right there on the floor of room 306.
"Hello, Rory." Calmly. Slowly. Normal. As if not a day had passed. As if she hadn't left at all. As if she was still twenty-one years old. Living at Yale. Coming home every chance she got. Coming home just to do her homework. Coming home for just a decent cup of coffee. She found her breath somewhere, and then, slowly, her voice.
"Luke."