Jess is lying on his bed reading, as usual. It seemed that all he does is
read, now more than ever. He comes "home", to Jimmy's, does his homework,
which is insanely easy, and then he reads until his eyelids can no longer
stay opened. His life is pure monotony now, but he isn't complaining. He
can't. It was all his fault.
He has been here nearly four months now, attending school for one out of the four, and he still sometimes wakes up and thinks he is in the tiny apartment over the diner. Sometimes he keeps his eyes closed and plays out a scenario in his head: Luke comes in, yells at him to get up, he stumbles to the shower, combs his hair, walks down the stairs, and sees. . .
And then he forces himself to stop. He can never continue. It's too hard. Too painful. He's forever hitting himself over the head for being so stupid. For letting the best thing that ever happened to him get away so easily.
He finds refuge in books. He escapes through the stories, the characters. Sometimes, he almost forgets what's real. What's true. He likes forgetting.
Suddenly he hears the sharp ringing of the clumsy princess phone he put on the card table by his bed, $4.99 at a garage sale. He waits two rings and then picks it up, holding the receiver to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Jess?" It's Jenna. It's always Jenna. It's been Jenna every night for the past month. He can't say he's completely annoyed by her incessant phone calls. She's chatty. Doesn't mind when he has nothing to say. Doesn't even usually notice.
"Yeah."
"Hey, it's Jenna. Whatcha doing?"
"Reading."
"I should have guessed. Too busy to come out and play?"
"What kind of play?"
"A party. At Jeff Damien's. Interested?"
"Not particularly."
"Yes! Yes you are! Come on Jess. . ."
"Fine."
"Pick me up in half an hour?"
"Sure thing."
He drops the phone back on the receiver. Jenna's persistent. Kind of like Lorelai in that regard. Not quite as bad, but pretty bad. He forces thoughts of Lorelai out of his head before thoughts of the senior Lorelai lead to thoughts of the junior one. He finds forcing thoughts away have become a reflex for him. It doesn't help much. He still hurts. It's a hurt that will never go away. Something he'll have to learn to live with.
He rises from the bed and walks over to the dresser. He stands in front of it for a moment or two before deciding not to change. It doesn't really matter anyways. He glances in the mirror, retousles his hair. He grabs his wallet and house keys.
He walks down the stairs and right out the front door without so much as a goodbye to Jimmy. He feels more like an anonymous boarder in a boarding house than a long-lost son come to stay. He sees Jimmy maybe once or twice a week, Sasha and Lily maybe a little more. He doesn't stick around much. Doesn't make an effort, and neither do they. It's an odd relationship, but it's been working. Sometimes Jess misses Luke asking him where he's going, even if he never did answer him.
He picks Jenna up at her house like she asked. She looks nice, but he doesn't take much notice. He appreciates Jenna. Her incessant rambling sometimes helps him to forget. Forgetting is always good. If he hadn't promised himself to be good, he might start some of the hard stuff to forget like he's sure some of his friends in New York already have.
Jenna rambles on in the car ride on the way to the party. Jess nods as he drives, but he isn't really paying attention. As soon as they get to the party, Jess walks to the keg. Then he remembers his promise to himself, to be good, and takes a Coke instead. He finds a chair and sits with his drink and watches the other people.
Jenna has already sought out her friends and they have formed a circle in the middle of the room, talking and swaying from side to side in time to the music. Jess watches the back of one of her friends: a slight brunette. When he watches her hair sway from side to side, his breath catches in his throat. He can't deal with this. Will he always be in this much pain? Is he going to suffer forever because of one mistake? Maybe. . .
He watches the girl again. He watches the light reflecting off her hair. If only he could hold Rory one more time. Run his hands through her hair.
He has been here nearly four months now, attending school for one out of the four, and he still sometimes wakes up and thinks he is in the tiny apartment over the diner. Sometimes he keeps his eyes closed and plays out a scenario in his head: Luke comes in, yells at him to get up, he stumbles to the shower, combs his hair, walks down the stairs, and sees. . .
And then he forces himself to stop. He can never continue. It's too hard. Too painful. He's forever hitting himself over the head for being so stupid. For letting the best thing that ever happened to him get away so easily.
He finds refuge in books. He escapes through the stories, the characters. Sometimes, he almost forgets what's real. What's true. He likes forgetting.
Suddenly he hears the sharp ringing of the clumsy princess phone he put on the card table by his bed, $4.99 at a garage sale. He waits two rings and then picks it up, holding the receiver to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Jess?" It's Jenna. It's always Jenna. It's been Jenna every night for the past month. He can't say he's completely annoyed by her incessant phone calls. She's chatty. Doesn't mind when he has nothing to say. Doesn't even usually notice.
"Yeah."
"Hey, it's Jenna. Whatcha doing?"
"Reading."
"I should have guessed. Too busy to come out and play?"
"What kind of play?"
"A party. At Jeff Damien's. Interested?"
"Not particularly."
"Yes! Yes you are! Come on Jess. . ."
"Fine."
"Pick me up in half an hour?"
"Sure thing."
He drops the phone back on the receiver. Jenna's persistent. Kind of like Lorelai in that regard. Not quite as bad, but pretty bad. He forces thoughts of Lorelai out of his head before thoughts of the senior Lorelai lead to thoughts of the junior one. He finds forcing thoughts away have become a reflex for him. It doesn't help much. He still hurts. It's a hurt that will never go away. Something he'll have to learn to live with.
He rises from the bed and walks over to the dresser. He stands in front of it for a moment or two before deciding not to change. It doesn't really matter anyways. He glances in the mirror, retousles his hair. He grabs his wallet and house keys.
He walks down the stairs and right out the front door without so much as a goodbye to Jimmy. He feels more like an anonymous boarder in a boarding house than a long-lost son come to stay. He sees Jimmy maybe once or twice a week, Sasha and Lily maybe a little more. He doesn't stick around much. Doesn't make an effort, and neither do they. It's an odd relationship, but it's been working. Sometimes Jess misses Luke asking him where he's going, even if he never did answer him.
He picks Jenna up at her house like she asked. She looks nice, but he doesn't take much notice. He appreciates Jenna. Her incessant rambling sometimes helps him to forget. Forgetting is always good. If he hadn't promised himself to be good, he might start some of the hard stuff to forget like he's sure some of his friends in New York already have.
Jenna rambles on in the car ride on the way to the party. Jess nods as he drives, but he isn't really paying attention. As soon as they get to the party, Jess walks to the keg. Then he remembers his promise to himself, to be good, and takes a Coke instead. He finds a chair and sits with his drink and watches the other people.
Jenna has already sought out her friends and they have formed a circle in the middle of the room, talking and swaying from side to side in time to the music. Jess watches the back of one of her friends: a slight brunette. When he watches her hair sway from side to side, his breath catches in his throat. He can't deal with this. Will he always be in this much pain? Is he going to suffer forever because of one mistake? Maybe. . .
He watches the girl again. He watches the light reflecting off her hair. If only he could hold Rory one more time. Run his hands through her hair.