More Chapter 5: Virgin, a gilmore girls fanfic

5.06 We've got us a Pippi Virgin episode addition. A couple of days later.

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There are some things in life you can't get or take back.. Ever.

The lipstick you thought was the perfectly subtle and natural shade of necessary rose, but isn't really afer all. Certain irreversible sexual acts. The way things used to be. And brownies sent as a gift through the mail.

She sighed and re-read the letter that came with said brownies several times. It seemed unremarkable in and of itself, but was of course remarkable by the mere fact of its existence.

She perused it again and smiled briefly as a childhood memory flashed to her: The Stars' Hollow Public Library, being eight and checking out, yet again, one of the old blue-cloth covered Nancy Drew mysteries. The musty smell of the old paper. The adventurous girl detective who was not side-tracked by silly romantic notions. The way she always found a clue in the letter with a magnifying glass. She'd asked her mother for a magnifying glass that Christmas. And penny loafers too. Just like Nancy had. Lorelai'd shaken her head in wonder, but Santa had come through.

Naturally, when she'd picked the package up at the campus post office earlier that afternoon, she'd been excited by the hometown postmark, but puzzled by the handwriting. The same handwriting in the letter before her now. Almost illegible (meant it was quickly written, Rory Drew deduced) though concise (not an extra dot, flourish, or dangling tail any where about it.) She knew who'd sent the letter. That was no mystery. He'd signed his name.

There was just the question (as in all good mysteries) of motive.

And, how to tease it out? And, why was it exactly that she wanted to bother?

And a day or so later, after she'd doled out the brownies to Paris ('Are these carob? Chocolate gives me hives'); Doyle (after taking three, 'This in no way will affect article assignments'); Marty (with a big grin, 'I didn't even know people made brownies in their own homes!') And, after several phone conversations with her near and dear, she still wasn't really sure she understood it at all.

But, of course, she'd thank him for the trouble when she saw him again, and not just for her mother's sake, and let those bygones be gone (something else you can't get back, she noted) and talk to Dean about it too.

So, as she usually did (though perhaps not as much lately), she broke it down and thought about it. In light of her phone conversations. In light of literature and history. In light of everything she missed so much at home, and how being in the world was not turning out the way she'd always so carefully planned.

Dear Rory, (it read)

Please find enclosed two dozen brownies. I remember that they are your favorite and thought I'd send them to you. The diner business, I guess, makes you remember things like that. Which is fine with me. Being good at remembering is what I do. Not much to remember in Stars' Hollow anyway. Not like Yale, I imagine. Probably a lot to remember there. Historic dates and things. Didn't go away to college myself. Commuted for awhile, but never really wanted to leave this stupid town. Don't ask me why.

So, about the other night: I owe you an apology. Whatever I think or feel, I shouldn't have been the way I was with Dean. So sorry again. Please tell him too.

It's just that... and I know I should have stopped writing now, but I can't help thinking that there is so much more for you in the world that isn't Stars' Hollow or Dean. And you can tell me to go to hell, or that it's none of my business, or both, but when I think back to that speech you gave at your graduation... Well, I don't know how anyone could be prouder of a kid that they weren't related to than I was of you. Still am.

Your mom would tell me to keep my Nosey McNose (or something equally stupid) out of it about now, and tell me again how much she needs to have peace between the two of you. Her ability to forgive people has always floored me, so I'd like to think that after a good yell, she'd forgive me for writing this (maybe if I make her some brownies too.) I really hope you'll forgive me as well because that's important to me.

Your mom forgives because she's screwed up so much herself (how she explained it to me) though I can't really wrap my mind around that, or see what she's ever done so wrong to feel this way. But she'd do anything rather than lose you. Her mother lost her, she says, and that is enough of that. Yeah, we talked after you left the other night.

I don't know. It's none of my business, I do know that. But I don't want you hurt. Not while you're young and have so much ahead of you. Or ever really. Challenged, yes. Hurt, no way. So, truth is if it were some other guy than Dean that you were with, I'd still probably be a jerk with the situation (Your mom's idea again, and probably not far off the mark, but I'm not telling her that.) So sorry about that too.

And, for the record, she has revealed no details she shouldn't (you know she'd stop drinking coffee before she said a word against you) and nobody gossips to me. I'm just going with my gut here.

You're a good kid, Rory. A great kid. And, wherever you go in life, Stars' Hollow will be here for you. Waiting. It won't change. Damn town never does (though you will and should.) That's the way it works and why I didn't leave. Didn't want to change. Didn't see the point. For you though, there is. There's a big point. It's all forward for you, and gold coins, and lifting horses, and all that other stupid Pippi stuff too.

Okay, that's enough from me. My written word quota for the decade has been reached. Gotta make sure your mom knows that. Because now she'll want some crazy romantic letter and I'm not writing her one, however much she pouts. You can tell her that from me.

Ah hell, forget all the crap I just wrote and eat your brownies, because I remember the day you and Lane decided they were your favorites and made me promise to always serve them. Valentine's Day weekend, right after your mom broke her leg. She sent you two into the diner by yourselves for the first time. You were very grown up about it and ordered brownies to celebrate.

The things we remember.

Okay, gotta go start a fresh pot of coffee (you can guess why.) Come see me when you're in town again. Dean too, if that's what you want. I promise not to headlock him. And, drive carefully.

Sincerely,

Luke Danes

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"Mom?"

"Hey kid, you okay?"

"Fine. Why?"

"You sound different."

"Well, I'm not."

"Okay."

"Luke sent me some brownies."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"THE brownies?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Two dozen."

"Wow! He's been holding out on me."

"And a letter."

"A letter? Like 'Q'? Like a Sesame Street thing?"

"No, like a 'Dear Rory,' kind of thing."

"Flannel-wearing, cute but scruffy, my boyfriend Luke sent you this?!"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said he was sorry about the other night."

"He was honey. He is."

"I know... but, I still don't understand why he acted that way."

"Yes you do, Rory."

"Well, it's none of his business."

"No, I guess it isn't."

"Then why do I care about his letter?"

"Because you care about him and he's always been there for us. He matters. Now more than ever."

"He said you were trying to keep the peace between us."

"I don't know if I'd put it like that, Rory."

"How would you put it then?"

"I don't know. It's not something I really understood was necessary until suddenly my daughter was standing before me all grown up."

"Wearing a scarlet A on her chest?'

"Only makes me prouder."

"Right."

"Okay, got me there. But your happiness matters to me. Matters more than anything. I want you moving forward in your life. Moving toward happiness."

"Mom, it's not like I'm trying to go back or hold on to the past or something. With Dean I mean."

"I never said you were."

"It's not like that between us."

"I'm sure it's not."

"I'm not afraid of..."

"Of what, Rory?"

"Gah! This is a stupid conversation!"

"Well, you chose the topic."

"Luke said that Stars' Hollow will always be there, that I'm the one who will change. Should change."

"Well, hunky Burger-man speaks truth."

"Wow... you've never..."

"I've never what?"

"...Never let anyone else have an opinion about us or me or our lives before."

"Rory, you have to believe that I didn't know he was going to write you a letter, or send THE brownies for that matter."

"I know."

"And I didn't tell him anything about your private business either."

"He said that too."

"Okay. Then what is bothering you?"

"I don't know!"

"Can I help you figure it out?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay... but I want to."

"Well, sorry about that."

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"Dean, hey!"

"Rory! I'm glad you called."

"I'm sorry it's late."

"That's okay. Kyle had a party. I was up anyway."

"So I got this package and a letter... from Luke."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He said he was sorry... about the other night."

"Well, he was an asshole."

"He just..."

"What?"

"He's got this protective thing with me... I guess."

"He's not your father."

"No, he isn't."

"Does he think I'm going to hurt you or something?"

"No. I don't know. He's just sorry."

"Well, that's great."

"Dean, I don't think he knows or anything...."

"Knows? Knows what?"

"About us and..."

"Oh."

"Should we talk about that or something?"

"Rory, it's done."

"Yes it is."

"And we're togther now."

"Yes..."

"So I don't really see the point in..."

"I see."

"Rory..."

"You know, we've known each other for awhile now, Dean. Even though we weren't always together. But we've known each other."

"Rory..."

"For awhile..."

"Rory, what...–?"

"And I screwed it up the first time."

"I broke up with you."

"I didn't know..."

"What?"

"What I wanted. I don't know what I want."

"Excuse me? What tense are we talking in right now?"

"I mean I want you, of course. But I keep thinking of how it was then."

"But this is now, Rory."

"Wow. It 's totally The Way We Were."

"What?"

"The movie: The Way We Were. Redford and Streisand."

"Haven't seen it. Does it have a happy ending?"

"No. It's beautiful though. Lorelai says Barbra Streisand has the best manicure she ever saw."

"Okay. But it ends sadly?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't have to be us, Rory."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

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"...So Zach, although bright and talented, is a Slow Processor."

"A Slow Processor?"

"Yes."

"Is that like being a Close Talker?"

"No."

"So, he processes slowly?"

"Yes."

"But what does that mean?"

"That you and he can start a club?"

"Sorry, it's been a weird week."

"Rory, what's going on with you?"

"Well, you know how the double date got all weird?"

"Yeah, I've been meaning to suggest that your family just give those up entirely."

"Hindsight is 20/20."

"So, did something else happen? Some sort of unexpected gift arrive, or something?"

"You know!"

"Know what?"

"I can hear the knowing smile in your voice."

"Okay, okay. I know Luke baked you The brownies. He didn't tell me why, but I'd talked to you and kinda figured... And anyway, he asked for your address. Said he didn't want to put your mom in the middle, in case you were still angry with him. Or got more angry or something. He made me a box too, since The brownies are really Our brownies. Sweet, hunh? That Luke. One minute he's ripping the bread guy a new one, and the next he's baking The brownies or making your mom dinner or... well, you know how he is."

"Yes, I do. Lane, he sent me a letter with the brownies too."

"Luke wrote a letter?"

"Yeah."

"Never really thought of him doing something like that before. A whole letter. Wow. And his writing can be really hard to read."

"He apologized for the Bop-it Gone-Postal scene."

"Ah, sweet."

"Yeah..."

"Rory? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, just... processing stuff."

"Well, take your time."

"Lane, do you remember the day The brownies became Our brownies?"

"Yeah, I do. That was a great day. It was right around Valentine's Day and..."

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"Rory, hello!"

"Oh hello, Grandma."

"How are things going at school?"

"Oh, you know... work."

"Listen, I was calling to double check on about Friday dinner. I couldn't remember if you had a school event this week or not."

"Nope. Not a thing. I'll be there with bells on."

"That won't be necessary."

"So, Grandma..."

"Yes?"

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine, Rory."

"Mom said Grandpa joined a barbershop choir."

"Yes, and it's not that strange all-female one. I checked."

"Oh."

"He used to sing when he was young. At Yale."

"Grandma, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, dear."

"When you and Grandpa first went out..."

"I don't really want to talk about the past, Rory. It was a long time ago. And is over now. I've learned the hard way in life not to cry over spilled milk. Raising your mother, as much as I did, taught me..."

"But, I want to know..."

"Rory, bringing up past romantic memories is not a terribly unique ploy to get me to reconcile with your Grandfather. And it won't work. We are different people now."

"Im not trying to do that... This is for me, Grandma. I'm asking because I want to know."

"I see. Well, what is it you want to know?"

"How did you know...? I mean how did you know that he was the one for you? I mean back then?"

"Are you having boy troubles, Rory?"

"No, that's not it. I'm just thinking..."

"About how you'll know Mr. Right?"

"I guess."

"Well, I believe that it takes getting out there and meeting a lot of fellows. And making friends. And when you meet the one, it just sort of 'clicks' inside you."

"Clicks?"

"Yes, 'clicks'."

"But how did Grandpa make you feel that was so different from anyone else?"

"Back then, you mean?"

"Yes, back then."

"Well, I suppose one of the things he did that made me feel different was the way he sort of... Well, challenged me for lack of a better phrase."

"Challenged you?"

"Yes. I thought he was insufferable at first."

"You did? But what about the 'click'?"

"That came later."

"After the challenge?"

"After the challenge. He was so bright and cocky and witty. His education meant a lot to him. I could tell that right away, despite how insufferable he could be. But soon we found that we could talk and talk and talk about everything. Always could. Until recently, that is."

"So, you had things in common?"

"Not at first. He was Connecticut and I was Main Line, there's quite a difference there, after all. I mean if one is part of The Four Hundred, that's another story. But we had a lot to show each other about our vastly different worlds."

"Your vastly different High Society worlds?"

"Of course."

"Okay. So, a 'click', challenging one another, different worlds, talking..."

"Yes, that was mostly it. It didn't hurt that he could dance like Astaire either."

"I see..."

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"Stars' Hollow Books. May I help you?"

"Hi, Andrew. It's Rory."

"Rory, how are you?!"

"Glad to hear your grammatically correct greeting. It's always comforting, and it restores my faith."

"Well, I am the foremost purveyor of literature in Stars' Hollow. Whatever that other Come-Lately-Movie-Theater-Book-Seller may say..."

"Yes, you are. And the only one with the courage to point out to Taylor that his produce is 'healthful' and not 'healthy', I might add. You even finally got him to change his sign."

"You were the only one who appreciated that campaign. Right I'm working on 'Twelve items or Fewer' "

"Because what idiot puts 'or less'?"

"Exactly!"

"It's the right thing to do, my friend."

"Hard to tilt at those windmills all alone, though."

"You are a literary martyr indeed. Next week you should jump all over everyone for saying 'I'm done' when they really mean 'finished'."

"I miss you, kid."

"Back atcha'. So, I have a little assignment for you."

"Don't tell me Yale is missing a copy of the third folio, because I may have to write my congressman..."

"Nope, I'm looking for a nice clean copy of Pippi Longstocking."

"Ah, the classics are always the way to go."

"Yes, they are."

"So, the first book I assume. Not any of the sequels."

"Well, Mr. Nielsen just gets weird in the later stories."

"Damn monkey."

"Yep."

"So, which edition are we talking here, Rory...–?"

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Dear Luke,

Thank you for sending The brownies. It was so nice to taste something of home. I miss it more than I like to admit.

Please find enclosed an edition of Pippi Longstocking. There will be no test, but I expect you to read it. I also expect you to be nice to Dean, or civil anyway, when you see him again. I expect you to do this for me. And my mom as well.

Because it was perfectly clear in your letter that we all mean something to one another. I guess we always have; Mom, you, and me too. But now we know that for sure, and so I know I can ask this of you.

Pippi is great. The book is great, but she herself is great too. Yes, she is waiting at home for her father the Cannibal King to return (a little Oedipal perhaps, but feminist too because of what she does with and for herself while she waits.) Her happiness is not impeded, her adventures undiminished, her friendships flourish. She has joy in her home and her horse too.

And, she has learned to take care of herself.

So, perhaps washing the floor by skating on scrubbing brushes is not the best way to accomplish this task, but she'll figure it out. She's far from perfect. She doesn't always think about consequences. She has some pretty terrible bad hair days, and clearly has not worn her retainer with any regularity.

But, she'll figure it all out, Luke, she will. I promise. See, she's got this great support system.

So, when you are reading this book, enjoy it. Know that everything will turn out all right, and don't worry.

See you at the diner soon. Take care of my mom. She's so.. well, happy now, I guess. And that means everything to me.

Take care,

Rory Gilmore

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"Rory!"

"Hi mom."

"We still on for Friday?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, good. Guess what?"

"What?"

"Luke wrote me the sweetest letter!"

"He did?"

"Oh, yeah... you should see it...."