Title: Too Close For Comfort
Chapter Four: That's The Way The Cookie Crumbles
Time: From the end of "There Go The Stars/Here Comes The Son" until graduation, smoothly encompassing the actual air date of this episode ("Those Are Strings, Pinocchio") of May 20.
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"Can we go to Luke's?" I asked from the back seat. My dad, driving, glanced in his rearview mirror and then at Luke's front window as we passed it.
"I don't think so, sweetie. Your mom was kinda adamant about no coffee, and it seems like that's all you ever get at Luke's."
"I'll be good, I promise. I'll just have a little cup."
"Rory, come on. You heard the doctor. No caffeine. It's not good for…." He trailed off, and swallowed. "The baby," he finally forced out.
"I know," I mumbled, sinking further into my seat. As Luke's seemed to fade into the distance, I kicked the back door of Dad's Volvo, just 'cause I was mad. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror but remained silent. I sighed and threw my head back so I was looking out the window.
Mom had forced me to ride home with Dad because she said I needed to lie down, and his Volvo was the better place to do it in, compared to the Jeep. Dad grudgingly took me along, but surprisingly it seemed like Mom had been madder at me than Dad was. Dad seemed resigned to my fate, but Mom actually seemed angry about it.
When we pulled up to the house, Mom wasn't there yet, but I didn't have a key. Dad gingerly helped me from the car, as if I was a china doll—or at least like I had broken something—and led me over to the porch swing, where we sat.
He slowly pushed us off, and we started swaying.
"When did it happen?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had seemed to penetrate our ride home.
I calculated in my head. "Two weeks ago," I answered quietly.
He nodded. "So you're four weeks along."
When I glanced at him, he shrugged. "I still remember the weird way it was calculated. It was only eighteen years ago. Little more."
We sat in silence for a few more minutes.
"I'm sorry," I said almost inaudibly.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I remember. And all it takes is once."
I nodded; wiped my eyes.
He reached an arm around me and squeezed me towards him.
+++++++
After Mom had come home, she'd forced me into my room "to sleep." Dad slipped me a trashy paperback novel he'd found in the hospital gift shop; one of the only books whose title was not preceded by, "How-To…" or "So You've Been Diagnosed With…."
I gladly took whatever I could get, and settled into my bed to read. However, when Mom poked her head into my room to check on me, I quickly shoved the book under my covers and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Satisfied, Mom closed the door quietly, and then started talking to Dad. Because the walls are practically paper-thin, I could hear every word they said.
Mom pushed a chair at the kitchen table back. "She's asleep," she announced, sitting and scooting the chair back towards the table. "Thank God."
"Remind you of when she was little?" Dad asked gently.
"No," Mom said sharply.
There was silence for a minute, and then Mom said softly, "This is just so hard."
"I know," Dad said. I heard scraping of chairs, so he was either standing up or edging towards Mom. "I get it."
Mom laughed bitterly. "I never thought I'd identify with Emily. Ugh! I just can't seem to get over this…disappointed feeling. God. I'm disappointed in Rory."
"It's not your fault, Lor," Dad murmured. "She screwed up. She's also eighteen, legally an adult. It's her problem."
There was a pause, and then another chair scraped. "God, Chris! You don't get it! Do you just not understand the concept of a family? This is my problem too!" Mom sighed. I heard running water, and was almost entirely sure Mom was making a cup of coffee. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard a cabinet door open. Then Mom laughed again. "I shouldn't be drinking this. If Rory can't, I won't." The cabinet door closed again, and the fridge door opened.
"Here," Dad said.
"Thanks," Mom responded.
"I'm really trying," Dad said.
"If you're trying so hard, where's your fiancée? Your new daughter?"
"God, Lor. It's just so hard."
"Yeah, it is. It's hard being responsible. But if it were easier, where would screw-ups like you and me be? Not the parents of a pregnant eighteen-year-old, that's for sure." Mom sighed. "I'm gonna wake Rory up. Go to Luke's, get lunch, maybe make a detour back to Hartford to talk to my parents. That'll be a fun trip." There was a pause, and then she continued softly, "You should go back to Boston. It's nice you're trying to be responsible, but you should try to be responsible for them. They're not used to disappointment."
I heard Mom's footfalls head to my door, and then right outside, she gasped, and then I heard plastic fall to the floor and something splash.
"Chris! What was that for?" She walked away from my door, back to the table.
"Lor, Sherry's horrible. She stopped letting me hold Gigi about a month ago. Her mom moved in, and now they'll hardly let me in the room. And the day before you called about Rory, some guy called asking about both of them. I don't know what's wrong with them, but I think neither of them will miss me."
"So I'm your second choice? No. No, Chris, it doesn't work like that."
"Lor."
"No!"
"Lor!" Silence. Some murmuring. Mom laughed, loudly.
"Two conditions!" she yelled.
"Whatever you want."
"Okay. One: that you visit my parents with us when we tell."
"Done."
"Chris, get off!" Mom laughed. "And two: that you go to Rory's graduation, you stay with us no matter what we do this summer, and you are every bit as involved in this pregnancy as Rory and I are. Well, not quite Rory, but definitely me."
"Deal. Now can I kiss you?"
"Yes," Mom giggled.
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Ten minutes later, when I decided it had been long enough for me to "wake up" from my "sleep", I exited my room to find a plastic water bottle sitting in a puddle. I decided that had been the splash I'd heard, stepped gingerly over it, and headed to the living room.
"Oh, my God, it's All My Children!" Mom yelled. She was sitting on one side of the couch, her feet in my dad's lap. He was sitting on the other end. "I swear to God, one day I came home early from school sick, and I found my mom watching this." Mom waved the remote at the TV, where what was obviously a soap opera was on.
"You weren't sick," Dad disagreed. "That was the day we skipped school 'cause James figured out how to raid his parents' liquor cabinet. I took you home, remember?"
"Oh, yeah," Mom laughed. "God, what ever happened to all of our friends?"
Dad shrugged. "Spread across the country. No one ever talked about our friends. We had the bad crowd."
"Yeah," Mom said thoughtfully. "Thank God Rory's not like that."
"Yeah," Dad agreed.
I figured this was as good a time as any to make my presence known. "Hey," I said, wandering into the room and over to the couch. Mom immediately pulled her feet from Dad's lap and dropped them on the floor, creating a space for me.
"Hey," she said back, shooting Dad a look that I wasn't supposed to see or understand, but I did. It clearly meant, "Shut up about everything right now."
"I'm hungry," I said, leaning my head onto Mom's shoulder. She put her arm around me and rubbed my arm.
"Wanna head over to Luke's? We can freak him out and get salads and water."
I paused, thinking, and then nodded. "Yeah. We can practice telling Grandma and Grandpa on him."
"Yeah; I guess that's an okay idea." Mom glanced at Dad. "Coming, Chris?"
He shook his head. "I, um, think I'm gonna head back to Boston. But I'll be back for graduation, Rory."
It was Mom's turn to shake her head. "No. You don't have to come to Luke's, but after Luke's we're heading to Hartford to tell my parents." Mom gave him a meaningful look. "You have to come, Christopher."
Almost wincing, he nodded. "I think maybe I'll just go find a place to stay. Your Inn?"
"You can try," Mom shrugged. "It's still a little ravaged from the fire. I told you about the fire, didn't I?"
"Yeah. Well, whatever. I'll see you guys later." Dad stood, and we followed him to the door. "Be good, hon." Dad placed a kiss on the top of my head as we parted ways next to his car.
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"Hey, Luke?" I asked halfway through my salad. He was standing at the counter, doing some diner-y thing with money or paper or something. I couldn't really tell, but he wasn't busy, and it was only Mom and me in there at five after two on a Tuesday afternoon.
"Hmm?" he asked, looking up quickly.
"Can I talk to you? Maybe…upstairs?"
"Why not here?" he asked, glancing around the empty diner.
"Just…it's better told upstairs."
"Okay," he sighed, dropping whatever was in his hands on the counter. "Why not?"
I followed him through the curtain, only glancing back once, to find Mom giving me sympathetic eyes over her untouched salad.
"What's up?" Luke asked as we crossed the threshold into his apartment.
I allowed my eyes to flick over Jess's empty side exactly once before staring directly into Luke's eyes. "I have new to tell you. It, um…it might be sitting-down news."
"Couch sitting down news or kitchen table?"
"Um…kitchen table. I guess."
"Okay." Luke led me over to his kitchen table, where we settled into opposite chairs.
"Here goes nothing," I murmured. "Um, first things first: you can't tell Jess. No way. I don't care how much you want to tell him, it's the kind of thing I should tell him, and I just want to tell him when I'm good and ready."
"All right," Luke said, a little apprehensively.
"Okay. This is probably news best blurted, so I'm gonna go ahead and blurt. I'm pregnant."
Luke stared at me.
"It's kinda hard for me to believe, too. Um, it's Jess's, and I'm keeping it, and this is gonna screw up this summer, probably, but not Yale. I've already decided that I'm just gonna live at home, and take two or three classes instead of five. So, Yale's all mapped out." That morning, before my mom would let me leave the hospital, we'd had a lengthy conversation about how next year was going to go, now that I'd been stupid and gotten pregnant, like she had.
Luke continued staring at me, only now his gaze kept darting to my stomach and then back to my eyes, and then suddenly he added the phone to the line-up, excluded my eyes, and started looking mad.
"Luke, please, please don't tell him," I said, startling him.
He glanced up at me quickly, waved his hand, and said, "Yeah, whatever."
Still feeling a bit apprehensive about leaving him with this explosive information, I went ahead and stood from the table. "Well…I'm gonna go ahead and leave."
"Okay," Luke said, now openly glaring at the phone.
"Please, Luke," I said one last time. The desperation I was feeling must have leaked out, because he looked up at me, really looked, and sighed.
"Okay. I won't tell him."
"Thank you," I said, making it to the door of his apartment.
"But are you sure you don't want his address?"
"Not yet. Not quite yet. You'll know when I do." I smiled at him genuinely. "Thanks again."
He nodded, and I left, the door shutting with a soft 'click' behind me.
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We avoided going to Hartford that afternoon, because Mom had called to ask if we could come over, and was greeted with a chilly, "We have plans."
And also, we all three chickened out.
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That night, Dad and I were curled up on the couch, watching television. Well, I was watching it, Dad was just asking question after question after question.
"Wait, who's the guy talking again?" he asked halfway through the Buffy series finale. That's right, he was asking annoying questions at the beginning of the last action-filled thirty minutes of Buffy. EVER.
"That's Robin Wood, principal of Sunnydale High."
"And why's he in the gang?"
"His mom was the Slayer that Spike killed, plus he and Buffy went out once."
"Which one's Spike?"
"The peroxide blonde British vamp."
"Ah, okay." He settled into silence for a few more minutes, and we watched as Buffy and Dawn said goodbye. My eyes started tearing up. The core Scoobies held a conversation much like one in the series premiere, and, I swear, a tear escaped. As Giles walked off, muttering that the world was definitely doomed, Dad laughed and then stopped. "Wait, isn't this the apocalypse coming?"
"Yes," I said, gritting my teeth.
"Then why is he joking about the world being doomed?"
"Because it's supposed to be funny."
"It didn't work," Dad decided, even though he'd just laughed.
"Shush!" I finally yelled.
"Sorry," Dad whispered.
A commercial break later, the fight was really getting going, and Dad started asking more questions, but I just kept shushing him and staring at the TV, as all of these people started falling down, injured, and dying, and pretty soon I was bawling.
That was how Mom and Sookie found me at ten, as the end credits were rolling. By then, Dad had gotten up and sat in the kitchen for at least fifteen minutes, tired of me yelling at him. Mom and Sookie let me cry it out, and then told me to shut up, as they hadn't yet seen the tape, and then they handed me my graduation dress to try on.
"How does it feel?" Sookie asked as I exited my room.
"Very nice," I responded, and then fiddled with the stomach. "A little tight, though." Sookie rushed over and then re-measured.
"Go ahead and take it off, honey. I'll take it home and fix it for you."
"Aw, Sook, you don't have to do that," Mom said.
I left them to argue with each other at the kitchen table, and went back into my room to change. Once again, however, I was privy to a very private conversation I would not normally be privy to. And, once again, it was one of those life-changing things.
"After Rory gives me the dress back, I should go," Sookie said. "I've got a stupid job interview tomorrow morning, and you know what, I'm nervous!"
"Which place?" Mom asked.
"Um, Harrington's in Woodbridge."
"Nice," Mom said appreciatively.
"They want me to be their executive chef four nights a week. God, I can't imagine working someplace else. And without my Lorelai!" Sookie wailed.
"But it's only a few months until the Dragonfly opens, right?" Dad asked.
"Uh…you haven't told him yet." Sookie said, a little uncomfortably.
"Told me what?" Dad asked, confused.
"I was waiting for an opportunity," Mom said.
"To tell me what?"
"Which apparently is right now," Mom laughed. "Okay, well, um. We're…we're not buying the Dragonfly."
What? I thought, pausing. But…they had to buy the Dragonfly. Otherwise Mom wouldn't have a job. And she was expecting we could send me to Yale and take care of a kid
"It's just not the right time," Mom continued. "What with the baby, and Yale, and everything."
"I'm gonna go now," Sookie said softly. "Listen, uh, can you fix Rory's dress?"
"Sure, sweetie," Mom said. "Bye."
I heard Sookie leave, and then Mom continued talking to Dad. "Chris, we didn't get financial aid for Yale. Now…I don't know what to do." She sounded a little choked up, like she was going to cry.
"Shh, it's okay, Lor," Dad said quietly. "We'll work something out."
I made up my mind then and there to stop at Grandma and Grandpa's house as soon as possible. We had a lot of things to talk about.
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The last three days of the week were entirely devoted to doing nothing at school; we seniors recorded messages for the video yearbook, and while most of my other classmates were watching movies and talking about end-of-the-year parties, I was taking the rest of my exams.
By Friday afternoon, however, I'd made it through all of my exams, and the reason I wasn't sprawled out on the classroom floor salivating over Josh Hartnett in "The Faculty" was because of my doctor's appointment. I peeled the last picture from the inside of my locker and dropped it into my relatively empty backpack. Then, practically savoring the feeling, I slammed the locker shut for the last time. I slipped my backpack onto my back and walked slowly through the empty hallways, relishing the fact that this was the last time I'd ever walk through these halls as a student. The next time I visited them, the next day, I would be a recent graduate.
I entered the office, and the receptionist handed me my last dose of daily folic acid pills before sliding the sign-in clipboard towards me.
I signed my name, said "Thanks. Have a good summer," and headed for the door. As my hand reached to open it, it swung open to reveal…Paris.
"Rory," she said, startled. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be watching the alien movie?"
I shook my head. "Nope. Doctor's appointment," I explained, holding up my note.
Paris nodded. "Yeah. I don't…feel well." She reached a hand up to touch her forehead briefly, and then thought better of it and moved it to her stomach.
I nodded, and watched her sign out. "Uh-huh. Well, I should go. I've gotta catch a bus."
"Hold on, Gilmore," Paris said, sliding the clipboard back to the receptionist. "I've got a car. I'll drive you."
"Um, okay. Sure." I held the door open for her, glancing back at the receptionist once. She raised her eyebrows, and then shrugged. We were, after all, seniors, and it was, after all, the last day of school.
"So, do you really have a doctor's appointment?" Paris asked as we threw our backpacks into the trunk of her sporty little Mercedes Benz roadster.
"Yeah," I said.
"Really?" Paris asked, raising her eyebrows as she started her car. Surprisingly, music started up with it, and, even more surprisingly, it was Fatboy Slim.
"Is this Fatboy Slim?" I asked, astonished.
"I'm not a complete hard-ass, Gilmore. And besides. It's old, no one else listens to it, it hasn't been overplayed into oblivion. It's practically perfect."
"Oh," I said, nodding. Suddenly, after three years of competition, bitter rivalry, and being friends…ish, Paris became human. And just a little cool. It was, after all, Fatboy Slim's 1998 CD, You've Come A Long Way, Baby. And the song was "Praise You." And, she was giving me a ride to the doctor. Speaking of….
"Okay, so, since you're actually going to the doctor, where am I going?" Paris asked as we came to an intersection.
"Um, I'm not entirely sure," I admitted. "It's Dr. Robinson. Do you know where her office is?"
"Sure," Paris nodded. "She's my gynecologist. So, you're finally heading out into the real world, ready for a doctor who's not from that one-horse town you live in?"
"No," I said, shrugging off Paris's comment about Stars Hollow easily. Instead, I continued uneasily, "I just haven't ever been to an OB/GYN before."
"Yeah, I just started this year. After Jamie and I…." She trailed off, allowing me to fill in the blanks. I did, and nodded, thankful for this easy in.
"Yeah, that's why I'm going."
"You had sex with Jamie?" Paris screeched, suddenly slamming on the brakes and staring at me.
"No!" I yelled back.
"Oh, God." Paris turned back to the road and transferred her foot to the gas pedal. "God, Gilmore, don't scare me like that!"
"Sorry," I said. "But I did have sex."
"Really?"
I nodded. Remembering what Paris had said when we'd had the conversation about her, I said with a smile, "What are your thoughts on that?"
To my delight, Paris also smiled a small smile. "Well, were you safe?"
My smile faded and I glanced at my hands, playing in my lap. "No. Not really."
This time when Paris stopped and stared at me, it was at a stop sign. "You weren't safe?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"No," I shook my head. "It was sort of a spur of the moment decision at this party, and he didn't have anything, and I really didn't have anything, and…now…." Just like I'd told Luke a few days before, this was news best blurted. So I blurted. "I'm pregnant," I said.
Paris's eyes got really big and her mouth dropped open. A car sitting behind us honked, and I prodded her, "Um, Paris?"
"Yeah, okay." She eased us through the intersection and around another corner until we made it to Dr. Robinson's office. "Here we are," Paris finally spoke again, parking in front of Dr. Robinson's door.
"Thanks," I said, exiting the car and walking to the trunk, which Paris had just popped, to get my backpack. When I passed by Paris's side, she rolled down her window and yelled, "Hey! Gilmore!"
"Yeah?" I turned back to face her.
"Are you still going to Yale?"
I nodded slowly. "Yep. Still going to Yale."
"Okay. Good. Uh, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye, Gellar."
She smiled slightly. "Bye, Gilmore."
I nodded and turned back to head into the doctor's office. As I was checking in, I glanced quickly out the window to see Paris still sitting in her car, watching me. When she spotted me, she quickly peeled out. I smiled, and found a seat.
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Dr. Robinson was a very nice woman. She confirmed my pregnancy, reminded me about the various forms of birth control without sounding preachy, inquired of my family medical history, and prescribed prenatal vitamins. She then very politely answered the one question I'd been dying to ask, and she answered in the affirmative.
"Well," she said, "I think, if you make sure to be back at least two weeks before school starts, to allow for time for your body to get used to a routine and this time zone again, then you should definitely go to Europe. You're only eighteen once, you know? Make sure to make an appointment for right after you get back, and keep taking both your folic acid and prenatal supplements, and remain relatively clean and healthy, and you'll be good." She smiled.
I knew I liked her.
However, that night when I told Mom what Dr. Robinson had said, I changed two weeks to a month, because it was just so much easier that way.
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The next morning, dressed simply in my graduation dress, I made my way nervously to Grandma and Grandpa's house.
They both answered the door, in the middle of getting ready to head on over to Chilton, and they looked very nice.
"Rory," Grandma stated simply, a little surprised to see me there.
"Hey Grandma, hey Grandpa."
"What brings you here on this busy day?" Grandpa asked happily, a "my-granddaughter's-graduating!" twinkle in his eye.
"I have sort of a time-sensitive issue I need to talk to you about," I said, my head working frantically to remember the speech I'd written the night before.
"Time sensitive," Grandpa repeated.
"Yes, very time-sensitive," I said.
"Well, come in, come in," Grandpa gestured me into the house, and we naturally walked into the sitting room, and sat, them together on the couch across from me.
After we sat, I shifted in my seat a little, unable to get comfortable. Ever since the day before, when Dr. Robinson had told me symptoms to look out for, they'd all suddenly sprung up, another sure sign that I really am my mother.
"Should we be nervous?" Grandma asked, obviously watching me.
"No, you shouldn't be," I said quickly, and then admitted, "I am, a little."
"Well, what is it?" Grandpa asked nicely.
Once again, this was blurt-worthy news, and so I did it. "I need money," I blurted.
"You need money," Grandpa repeated.
"For Yale," I clarified.
"You need money for Yale," Grandpa repeated again.
"Stop repeating everything she says," Grandma said, exasperated.
"I'm sorry, I'm processing," Grandpa said.
"And there's something else."
They both stared at me expectantly.
"Um, I'm pregnant."
"You're pregnant." This time, it was Grandma who did the repeating.
I nodded. "Um, it's a long story, but the short of it is that I was stupid, once, one time, one party, one time I said yes instead of no, and now I'm pregnant. I'm still going to Yale, I'm just going to take three courses instead of five, and I'm going to live at home after the baby's born. But the thing is, if I want to go to Yale, I need money, because no other financing came through, and the other options Mom and I have are…well, stupid. So, here's the offer: I would like for you to loan me the money for four—maybe five—years at Yale, and in return I will get a part-time job and pay you back in installments. I will continue this payment plan after graduation, increasing the payment amounts in proportion to my income. Additionally, I will reinstate Friday night dinners with me. Every Friday night, I will be here, six-thirty on the dot, and after…well, after the baby's born, he or she will also come to Friday night dinners, every Friday, with hardly any missed, until all of the money is paid back." I took a deep breath, un-tensed my shoulders, and silently congratulated myself for remembering my entire speech.
"Well…," Grandma started, "how wonderful."
I smiled. Maybe I wouldn't be yelled at.
"We've missed you, Rory," Grandpa said. "And while I don't particularly…like all of your story, I think it's very admirable that you're not letting your mistake impede you from attending Yale."
"So…this should work out for everyone, right?"
"Yes…I believe this could happen the way you wish it to. Of course, at some point we want to meet the baby's father," Grandma said.
"Oh, of course," I nodded. "Um, maybe not anytime soon, but as soon as his schedule's free, we'll both be here." Oh, and maybe when he's in the state. And knows, I thought to myself.
"Not so fast," Grandpa said. "I'm happy to pay for Yale, but I don't want it to be a loan."
I immediately started shaking my head. "No, I don't want that. I want it to be a loan, because otherwise it's too easy."
"I hate to scare you, Rory, but nothing will ever be easy again," Grandpa said.
"I know," I said, "but I still don't want any breaks."
"All right. How about this? Don't think of this as a gift to you. Think of this as a gift to the baby. You don't pay me back, but instead use the money you earn to pay for the normal baby necessities."
I thought over it. Seriously, a baby needs a lot of stuff. "Okay," I said slowly.
"Good," Grandpa smiled.
"Wonderful. And if you ever need any more financial help, we're always here for you." Grandma smiled tightly.
"We have a deal," Grandpa said proudly.
I smiled. "Well, I should go," I said, standing.
"Rory, does your mother know you're here?" Grandma asked suddenly.
"No," I said simply. "This is my thing. I'll see you at the ceremony."
I waved, and left the house quickly.
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Closer to the ceremony, I was milling around the large room into which they'd shoved all of us soon-to-be graduates. I spotted my mom hassling one of my classmates, whose face looked unfamiliar.
"…Rory Gilmore. She's the valedictorian. I'm her mom," Mom said proudly. The girl kinda stared at her weirdly, so I walked up and said, "Mom."
"Uh, no, go away. I wanna tell a bunch of other people that I'm the valedictorian's mom."
I smiled at how proud she was, and then launched directly into conversation. "They know."
"What? Who knows what?"
"Grandma and Grandpa. They…know." I said meaningfully.
"What?" Mom was shocked. "Rory, you already told them? We were going to tell them together!"
"Well, I did it by myself. And they didn't seem to shocked. Of course, it's probably because I told them my game plan. They were so impressed, Grandpa won't even let me pay them back."
"Pay them back for what?" Mom asked suspiciously.
"Yale."
"No, Rory, you didn't!"
"I did. And it's all me. I did everything. I'm the one who brought up the conversation, I'm the one who committed myself to Friday night dinners again—"
"You need to be committed, Rory, I can't believe you did that!"
"Hey! It was all me. You don't have any obligations. I did everything," I repeated, feeling white-hot anger springing up in my chest. "You can have your Inn now. I did it for you." The anger dissipated, apparently caused by my sudden tears. "Oh," I said, wiping my eyes, "the ceremony's about to start. I better get out there." I leaned forward and wrapped her in a really tight hug. "Go buy that Inn!" I commanded her, planting a kiss square on her cheek and letting go. "I need…tissues," I muttered, walking away from Mom.
Look! Mood swings already! Joy of joys!
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I was valedictorian. I gave a speech about my love of books, and then talked about my mom. I cried. I also, according to Mom, made Luke cry too. And Dad. Mom later told me it was hard to have Dad on one side of her and Luke on the other, but she'd sat Sookie and Jackson between her and Luke, and then sat Dad on the opposite side, next to Grandma and Grandpa, so everything worked out fine.
After a while, Paris found me somehow in the chaos, and said she wanted to say goodbye.
"I'm glad you found me. I wanted to say goodbye, too," I said when she walked up.
"Good. Well…good luck. With everything."
"Thanks. You too. You know, it's weird. Most of the time I really hated you," I smiled.
"Yeah, I really hated you too." Paris smiled back, and then we hugged, tightly.
"See you later," I whispered.
"Yeah, you too." Paris let go, grinned at me, and walked into the waiting arms of her nanny.
As I watched her go, Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma walked up, at which point Grandpa and Grandma pointed out my graduation present, a very safe Prius. It looked weird, but it was a car, which was perfect, since I would be living at home and driving to Yale every day. I hugged them both, and Grandma said she was looking forward to seeing all three of us the second we returned, and then she and Grandpa walked off.
Mom and Dad glanced at each other, and Mom opened her mouth to say something, but my cell phone rang, so I answered it. It was a hang-up, which, as Mom pointed out, I'd been getting a lot lately. I was almost entirely sure that it was Jess, being a chicken because he didn't officially say goodbye, and instead ran away to some other place—most likely New York. He could very easily return for one day to come to my graduation, but he hadn't, so he was stupid.
My phone rang again, and this time I held up a finger and walked away from Mom and Dad, more out into the open, to get a better signal.
"Jess, is that you?" I asked when I thought I was far enough away. I was answered with silence. "Jess, I'm pretty sure it's you and I'm pretty sure you've been calling and not saying anything but you wanna say something." I paused again, and was again rewarded with silence. "Hello? You're not going to talk? Fine, I'll talk." There was that white-hot anger again. "You didn't handle things right at all. You could've talked to me. You could've told me that you were having trouble in school and weren't going to graduate, and that your dad had been here, but you didn't. And you ended up not taking me to my prom and not coming to my graduation and leaving again without really saying goodbye again, and that's fine, I get it, but that's it for me." The anger was once again replaced by tears, and I struggled to get through the next few sentences. "I'm going to Europe tomorrow and I'm going to Yale and I'm moving on. And I'm not going to pine. I hope you didn't think I was going to pine, okay?" I broke down at this point…the words would hardly come out, and they were garbled by tears, but I think Jess got them. "Jess, I…I love you, but I just need to let it go." I paused for just a second; to get my breath back. "So, that's it, I guess. Um, I hope you're good. I want you to be good, and, um, okay, so, goodbye. That word sounds really lame and stupid right now, but there it is. Goodbye." I paused, waited for him to say anything, and then slowly hung up. As I slipped the phone back into the pocket of the sweater I was wearing under my robe, I entertained fantasies of me walking around the corner and seeing Jess, just standing there, in his leather jacket, with his hair sticking straight up, and that smile I hardly ever got to see plastered across his face. The smile that made him look like a little kid.
After walking around the corner to nothing, I choked back more tears and tried to find my parents.
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I hope you guys like this. Next up comes a chapter I've really been looking forward to writing, and I think you guys will really like it. At least, at the beginning, and then you'll hate me again.
Oh, and can I get some help from you guys? I have a name for the baby already, boy or girl, but I need some help deciding on the sex. If you guys could do me a favor and when you review, include a number, any number, from 1 to 1,000,000,099, and I would be so thrilled. But make sure it's not like "one hundred", but instead "100". I will then, from the number of responses, take the baby's name and when it's to be born. That's right: it's like one of those "you choose the ending" books! Only, you don't get to glance ahead to see what's going on!
Seriously, any number rocks supremely.