Disclaimer: This is an original story based upon the characters of Gilmore Girls. No profit will be made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. I appreciate your comments. Sorry about the longer update this time, my life has been pretty crazy lately.
"Sandra—say that one more time—and slowly," I say to the high-pitched woman on the other line.
"You are being chosen as the DAR woman of the month Emily! The ladies at the DAR are going to take you out somewhere special for our meeting this week."
"Sandra, when have we ever had a DAR woman of the month?" I ask incredulously.
"Since now... you are the first! Now I don't want to hear any more about it. We will be there at three o'clock to kidnap you and take you out."
"Alright, alright, I'll be here," I say and then hang up the phone.
I look up at the clock, it's almost noon. Part of me is frustrated, there was a lot of work we planned to get done today and the meeting. Part of me—though I would never admit it, is tickled to death—DAR woman of the month, not bad. At least it proved in my mind once and for all, that Lorelai's little article in the magazine hadn't damaged my reputation—unless the ladies were patronizing me.
Whatever the reason, I will just enjoy it. I walk upstairs to change my clothes and do my hair. The door to Lorelai's room is open—the maid must be dusting it. I walk past the room and see her closet opened—and the shimmering white debutante dress hung there—where it has always hung, except when the one it was meant for's daughter tried to fulfill my dreams and wore it at her own debutante ball. It's amazing to me how it has been able to stay so white after all these years. We had to take it to the cleaners when Rory wore it, it had turned slightly yellow, but not too bad. The cleaners had it a sparkling white, it was as beautiful as the day I had taken it out of the box.
"Lorelai? Lorelai open the door, the new dress is here!" I called, trying once again to outdo the music.
"Mom I really don't feel like trying it on right now!" she called back.
"Nonsense, it's just beautiful, even more than the last dress. Open up and see."
"No, I don't feel like it!" she yelled. My heart sunk. I had wanted her to be excited about this with me. I had waited and waited for her coming out ball and I wanted her to share it with me. I felt insanely jealous of all the other mothers, who had daughters who went shopping with them for pantyhose and pearls. When I had gone to the dress shop to pick up the dress there was a mother and daughter there—the daughter was trying on dresses and she would come out and twirl around for her mother and then the two would giggle—just like sisters, best friends—Why couldn't I have that?
"Lorelai, I'm coming in" I called and despite her protests, I came in the room and flipped off the radio.
"Now, I'm sure that once you see this dress..." I stopped as I looked at her.
She was lying on the bed, almost in a fetal position, looking very ill. I laid the dress in the chair and hurried over to her bedside.
"What's wrong? Are you sick?" I asked anxiously.
"It's nothing Mom," she said weakly, "Please, just go away."
"Don't be ridiculous! You're sick, I'm calling Joshua."
"No Mom! Please! Don't call Dr. Reynolds. I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow!" she cried out and then added as if noticing my surprise at her protest to call the doctor, "It's probably just one of those twenty-four hour things." I felt her forehead, and she didn't feel warm.
"Alright, I'll leave you alone. I'll just go down to the kitchen and make you a mashed banana on toast." She suddenly looked very green, and grabbed for a mop bucket she had apparently confiscated and threw up. I reached for her, wanting to comfort her—she was always terrified of throwing up when she was a child.
"Just go Mom" she said, after she was through. Masking hurt with anger and withdrawal had become either a disease or refined skill with me.
"Fine—don't forget you have a portrait session today at five. I expect you dressed and downstairs by four-thirty."
"Whatever," she replied.
The doorbell rang and I debated for a moment whether I should answer it myself or have one of the maids get it.
"Maritza! Get the door please!" I call. I am standing at the top of the stairs, when I hear all of them come in, "Okay Emily!' they call! "Get down here!" I walk down the stairs as ladylike and refined as I possibly can—trying not to hide my excitement. I turn to look at Missie and she is smiling, I give her a quick wink.
"Thank you all!" I say graciously. "Thank you all for this wonderful honor!" Sandra approaches me.
"Alright, Emily." she brings out a scarf. "We want this to be a total surprise," she says and places the scarf over my eyes.
"Sandra! This is ridiculous!" I protest, but am kind of enjoying the espionage. They take me in the car, and Sandra calls from the front seat.
'Alright, Emily just sit back and relax. Kathryn is in the back seat with you as well as Melissa." From the right of me, I feel an encouraging pat on my arm.
"Missie?" I whisper.
"Just relax Emily. This will be a DAR function you'll never forget."
"I feel like a sorority girl—please tell me we are not going to a pub."
"Nope," she says chuckling. "No pubs,"
The car starts, and I am forced to wait and wonder here in the dark.
"Mom? Dad?" she called and we both turned at the same time and looked at her. It was so rare that she was even home in the evenings anymore with all the extra-curricular school things she had taken on. When she was home, she was up in her room. When she called our names, there was a little glimmer of hope that she had wanted to spend time with us—the hope died when I saw Christopher was with her.
'Good evening Lorelai, Christopher, would you like to come in, sit down with us?" I asked, as if they were some houseguests.
"We need to talk to you," she said and it was the tone in her voice that caused me to sit down again and Richard to put down his paper.
"Come in, have a seat," I said, again falling into my "gracious host" role. They came in holding hands, both of them looking small, like they did when they were seven and Lorelai had proclaimed she wanted to marry Christopher—live next door—and have a baby—named Emily.
There was something in her eyes. Something that made me cross over to the other side of the room and sit next to Richard.
"Mom, Dad, there is no easy way to say this. I've been trying to think of one, but I guess I'll just come out with it. Chris and I went to the doctor's today."
Pain and Panic shot through me at the same time...she took Christopher with her to the doctor? Christopher instead of me? And what did they have to tell us? Was there something wrong with her? I tried to cover my anxiety the best I could.
"And?" I asked, the anxiety creeping into my voice. She looked down at the floor, and I saw Christopher give her hand an encouraging squeeze.
"Mom...he confirmed what I've known for a month...the first debutante dress, there was nothing wrong with the dress...it was me,"
It took me a minute to register what she was saying...what did she mean? Then the pieces started falling together—the too-small dress, the sickness—Oh no, please God no.
"I'm pregnant" she said as if sensing my thoughts and confirming them. Richard sighed heavily and looked away. I was lost in a mix of emotions—she was pregnant, my baby, my angel child, the one I had prayed for for so long—she was pregnant. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening! I turned and looked at her
"How far along are you?" I asked, barely even able to choke out the words.
"Three months," she replied. "Chris and I have been talking and making some plans. We are under no circumstances going to abort this baby—no matter what you or Straub and Francine think,"
I felt a new wave of pain rip through me, Is that what she thinks of me? That I would make her abort the baby?
"Adoption is not an option either," she stated firmly. "I am going to quit school, and raise our child on my own." she stated firmly. Richard looked like he was having trouble breathing. He stood up, and walked out of the room, mumbling something about calls to make. Lorelai watched him go—looking smart alecy about his leaving, but I did know her better than that. I could see the hurt behind her eyes. I was speechless, absolutely dumbfounded.
"Christopher...go home. Lorelai...go up to your room, we will discuss this later."
They walked out together—holding hands. I watched them leave, a wave of emotions flowing over me. Shock, disappointment, anger, and a deep sense of loss and failure. I watched the outline of Lorelai walk slowly up the stairs in the shadows. What had happened? Where had I gone wrong? Whatever happened to my little girl? my angel? my little friend who at one time wanted to be like her mommy? Was it my fault? Had I driven her to this?
I never did go up that night—I just went to bed. Richard came in hours later, having shut himself up in his study. That was the role he had taken on as a parent—the silent one, the withdrawn one, sometimes I wondered if Lorelai would rather have him yell and scream at her—just once. At least that would prove that he still gives a care. But I was the one that got mad, the manipulator, the nagger—that was my role. We didn't talk about the pregnancy. I just heard him sigh heavily and then roll over on his side and go to sleep.
"Will someone please tell me where we are going?" I call out but only got laughs in response. It feels like we had been driving for hours. Suddenly the car stops, and I feel Missie guiding me. I try to distinguish where we are—I have no idea.
"Okay...step up here," Missie says. I step up,
"Can I take the blind fold off now?" I ask.
"Not yet," the chorus of ladies respond. I am inside now, walking where they tell me to walk—suddenly I realize I am in a kitchen—what in the world is going on here? There is a voice whispering,
"In there, right in there." I can barely make it out—I am trying to place the voice and then it hits me—Sookie.
"Wait a minute, are we at the Dragonfly?" I ask. Before that question can be answered, I hear a door open, and a light chain pull.
"There's plenty of room," I hear Sookie whisper.
"Someone tell me what is going on!" I demand. I feel a hand in my hand giving it a squeeze.
"Emily...you're my friend, and I love you. Remember that...and please be quiet." Missie says. The blindfold is removed, and I find myself in a large pantry.
"Missie! Melissa Bates this is not funny!" I call out. I hear a bang on the door and Sookie's voice.
"Emily, please...please be quiet."
Suddenly I hear Lorelai's voice, "Sook, there was nothing going on in the barn. The horses are just fine."
"That's great Honey, must have just been my imagination. Hey, would you mind grabbing me some cinnamon from the pantry? I'm a little tied up here."
"Sure" she says and the door opens.
"Mom?" she says. "What...?" and then suddenly she is shoved into the pantry as well and the sound of a key turns in the lock.
"Sookie? Sookie? What is going on here? Sookie this is so not funny! Sookie! If this is your idea of a sick joke..." but there was no reply. She turned to look at me.
"I'm as surprised as you are." She snickers, "Right"
"I had nothing to do with this!" I defensively cried out.
Suddenly a sheet of paper slid underneath the door, Lorelai picked it up we both read it.
Dear Emily and Lorelai,
We as your friends and family would like to tell you that we love you but that
we think you are both being pig-headed and stubborn. Neither of you knows
how to communicate your feelings to the other, and so we have decided to help
you. We will not let you out of the pantry until you talk to each other and tell
each other how you feel. We are not asking you to become best friends, we are
asking you to talk to each other. We know how precious life is and we don't
want you to spend one more minute of it hating each other. We will not let you
out until you talk.
Your Friends and Family,
Rory Gilmore, Richard Gilmore
Missie Bates, Michel Girard
Luke Danes, Sookie St. James
and the ladies of the DAR.
We finish the note, and after a moment we look at each other.
"Well, this is going to be fun," Lorelai snickers as she sits down on a bucket full of flour.
"This wasn't my idea you know," I retort.
"Whatever,"
"Grow up!"
"You first"
It's gonna be a long night.