Title: Too Close For Comfort
Chapter Six: Mr. Responsible Shows His (Un)Welcome Face
Time: From 3 weeks before "Ballroom and Biscotti" to "The Lorelais' First Day At Yale".
A/N: Reviews and comments and all that stuff make me happy and giddy and write more and faster, just letting you know. Oh, and no more numbers are needed. The polls are closed.
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"We're here," Mom said simply, pushing the front door open.
"We're home," I corrected, edging past her with my backpack. "I can't wait to sleep in my own bed."
"Oh, me too!" Mom yelled, following me.
"What are you doing?" I asked, turning around at the door to my room.
"Following you," she said simply.
"Mom," I started, "your bed is upstairs." I pointed, politely, to remind her.
"I know. I'm coming to help you unpack. Look at all your pretty new clothes!" She held up the backpack she was carrying. I sighed.
"Fine, come on in."
"Thank you," she said. Immediately, she dropped the bag on the floor and jumped onto my bed, spreading all the way out. "Oh my God, your bed feels so good."
"Mom!" I complained. She shrugged. "Alright, fine, but don't get comfortable. I will sleep on top of you if I have to." I opened my closet and started taking clothes out.
"Ooh, threats from the rapidly growing lady. Mm, smell this!" She held one of my throw pillows towards me.
"What?" I asked, not even bothering to walk over.
"I forgot that pillows didn't have to smell like feet!"
I glanced over and saw that she was lying with her feet on my pillows. "Well, then, get your feet off of them!"
She kicked them up in the air, away from the pillows. "You know, I have to say, I think it's good that I did this hostel thing in my thirties, and I'll tell you why."
"Can't wear this, or this, or this," I said, dropping all of my clothes into a pile on the floor.
"If I had done this in my twenties or teens, I would have been naïve enough to think that hostels were exotic or romantic. But once you're in your thirties, you've lived enough to know that they're gross and should be avoided at all costs."
By that time I'd moved onto the suitcase I'd brought in, and was discarding some of the smaller maternity clothes. "Can't wear this, or this, definitely not this." I sighed. "How can I get any bigger?"
Mom finally looked over at me, her thoughts on hostels forgotten. "Oh, sweetie, you're barely halfway there."
"I know," I pouted, pulling my shirt down over my budding stomach. I was twenty weeks along, near the beginning of my fifth month, in my second trimester, and only halfway through. My belly was just starting to be visible to me under my boobs, and every day it seemed like I saw less and less of my toes.
"Eh, don't worry," Mom said, standing from my bed. "Everything will be fine. Your toes will return, I promise." She wrapped me in a hug, which was just what I needed.
"Thanks, Mom," I said, angling her towards the door. "It's so sweet of you to—" I shoved her out of the door and closed it quickly, before running to my bed. "Ha! I got my bed back!"
"That's what you think! I gave it to you!"
"Whatever you say, Mom."
"Goodnight, sweetie."
"'Night." I smiled. She opened the door and leaned in quickly to turn my light off.
"Night again," she whispered.
"Shh," I hissed. "We're sleeping." I reached to my stomach and put my hand on the side, at the spot where I'd felt it before. I waited a second, and then smiled as I felt the little flutter…like tons of butterflies tickling the inside of my stomach.
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The next morning, after Mom dropped off all of the souvenirs we'd bought—I didn't feel it was time to share my news with Stars Hollow quite yet—Mom basically put a tent over my head—a "maternity shirt", she'd called it—and smuggled me across town to Sookie's, where we were greeted very excitedly.
"You're back!" Sookie squealed, rushing from the house. She looked a lot more pregnant than me, which made sense, since she was due in November and I was due in January.
"We're back!" Mom responded, jumping up and down with her best friend. We all hugged, and then Jackson ran out of the house yelling at us about squishing baby. I'm assuming he meant Sookie's. He herded us into the house.
"I missed you guys so much!" Sookie said.
"We missed you," Mom responded.
"Ah, look at you!" Sookie turned to me. "You look older. And…pregnant." She turned back to Mom, just a tad shocked. "Lorelai? Um, am I just crazy, or is she…?"
Mom nodded slowly. "She is."
"Ah! No! We're pregnant together!" Sookie grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug. "Aw, that's so sweet!"
"Uh-huh," I said, shooting desperate looks to my mother. "Can't breathe, though."
"Whoops, Sook," Mom chuckled. "She needs to have that life-giving breath."
"Oh, sorry." Sookie giggled and released me.
"So, Sookie, what did the ultrasound say?" Mom asked. "Boy or girl?"
"It's a—" Sookie started, only to be cut off by her husband.
"Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh!" he protested, holding out his hand.
"It's a buh?" Mom asked with a chuckle, glancing from Jackson to Sookie. "What's a buh?"
Jackson proudly leaned closer to Mom, pointing to a metal button displayed on his chest. "Read," he commanded.
"I do not want to know the sex of my baby."
"That's right. I'm going old school on this," Jackson continued proudly.
"And he's being completely stubborn," Sookie added with an eye roll.
"Jackson, seriously, you don't wanna know?" Mom asked. "I would have loved knowing when Rory was born."
"Hey, in the old days, the guys would pace back and forth in the waiting room until a pretty nurse in a nice white outfit would come out and say, 'Congratulations! It's a "insert your chosen sex here".' Ricky Ricardo didn't know, Dick van Dyke didn't know, and by gum, if it's good enough for Rick and Dick, it's good enough for me!"
Mom, who had been staring at Jackson through his entire speech, turned back to Sookie and announced, "Well, I wanna know."
"Rory, whaddya say?" Jackson asked, turning to me. "Be on my side."
"Jackson, there are no sides," Sookie said in an exasperated voice.
"Sure," I said quickly, practically cutting Sookie off. "I'll be on your side."
Mom stared at me, her mouth open. "You don't want to know the sex of your baby?"
I shook my head. "I like surprises."
"The pregnancy itself wasn't enough?" Mom asked, but not in a mean way. It was just a question.
"Mom, I don't have a lot of happiness coming towards me in my life. I'm just kinda hoping to be happily surprised by this. But go ahead, find out the sex of Sookie's baby."
"I'll tell you outside, Lorelai," Sookie said happily, dragging Mom out of the house.
"Well, welcome to 1954," Jackson told me, handing me a button.
"Happy to be here," I said, pinning it on. "So," I said after a minute of silence, "you hear about that whole Sputnik thing?"
"Oh, Eisenhower's on top of it," Jackson nodded.
"Hmm. Damn commies," I muttered.
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"It's a—" Mom said.
"No," I cut her off.
"But it was so cute! She had—"
"Nope," I shook my head.
"Everything was done in—"
"Mom!" I stopped walking. She stopped next to me.
"Hey, what are you doing? We're in the middle of the street."
"Mom, please stop trying to tell me the sex of Sookie's baby. I don't wanna know. And I don't wanna know the sex of mine. So, you're just gonna have to get over it."
"Fine." Mom pouted. "But it'll be your own fault when you give her a blanket in the wrong color."
"Well, I promise not to do that," I nodded and continued walking. "Hey, I think I'm gonna go see Lane," I said after glancing Kim's Antiques.
"Okay," Mom said slowly. "But if you don't show up at home in an hour, I'm calling the police and reporting Mrs. Kim for a murder."
"Hide from Mrs. Kim. Got it." I smiled, and started walking away. Then I turned back and yelled, "Please don't give him the jam."
"What? I can't hear you," Mom said with a grin, holding up Luke's "French jam" and waving it at me.
I shook my head, and continued into Kim's Antiques. "Hello?" I called, entering the store.
"Rory!" I heard a squeal from around the corner, and then I was almost knocked into the door by a blur.
"Hey," I laughed. "How are you?"
"I'm great! You're home! You're…about to die!" She glanced frantically around downstairs, and then pulled me upstairs after her, as quickly as her legs would allow her. "What happened to you?" she asked the second her door closed.
"Remember Kyle's party?" I asked.
"Oh, God," she groaned. "In here." She pulled me into her closet, where we both plopped on adjacent cushions and faced each other. She leaned over and slipped a CD into her radio, turning it up as loud as she dared.
"Talk," she demanded, staring alternately at my blossoming stomach and me.
"All right. Remember Kyle's party?"
She nodded.
"Remember when I told you Jess and I had sex?"
Her eyes got really big and her mouth dropped open. "Uh-huh," she nodded.
"Yeah, that's when it happened."
"Wow," Lane whispered, now openly staring at my stomach. "I…I can't believe you didn't tell me!" She hit me on the shoulder. "That's so wrong!"
"I know!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I really haven't told that many people. I mean, Mom and Dad and I have been in Europe for three months."
"Is your dad still in town? I mean, I'd heard that you guys were in town, but I didn't hear anything about your dad."
I shook my head. "He went back to Boston. He and Sherry were having some trouble or something, and I think he's going back to 'work it out' after three and a half months."
"'Or something', huh? Sounds like he might come back for good."
"Yeah, it does." I smiled. "That might be kinda nice. I mean, with me pregnant and going off to college and all that."
"Wow. That's still just weird. You're…pregnant." She shook her head. "My mother will never let me talk to you again if she finds out."
"So, don't let her find out."
"In Stars Hollow?" she raised her eyebrows at me and smirked. "That'll happen. Besides, I almost can't wait until she finds out. She's already heard that Zach and Brian aren't going to college, and she's still apprehensive about the whole 'I'm in a band thing'. Ooh, did I tell you? Dave left."
"What?" I asked, my jaw involuntarily dropping.
"Yeah," she nodded, "he ran off to California to go to college."
"Where'd he go? UCLA?"
"I'm not sure…I'm hoping Stanford, so I can tell my mom I'm dating a guy in the Ivy League, but I think he's somewhere in the LA area."
"I'm so sorry," I said sincerely.
"About what?" she asked, surprised.
"About not being here for you. About not telling you. About not being the best friend I could be." At the last word my voice broke, and I could feel the tears bubbling behind my eyes. Lane glanced at me worriedly, and quickly handed me a box of tissues. I laughed. "Hormones," I said simply, gesturing to my stomach and back up to my face. She nodded solemnly, and then laughed too.
"I have no idea how I'm going to get you out of this house alive!"
"Me either!" I laughed.
And so we just sat there for a few minutes, laughing, until we came to our senses and hatched a plan to get me out of her house alive. I ended up hiding in the bathroom until Lane had called Mrs. Kim to her room; when the door closed, I hurried down the stairs and out of the house.
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I was sprawled on the couch watching the latest episode of some soap opera—Quentin, a.k.a. the guy whose name I didn't know, had just found out about the infidelity of Mary, the girl whose name I didn't know, with Justin, the other guy whose name I didn't know—when Mom rushed into the house and quickly turned the TV off, standing in front of it.
"Hey! I was watching that! Quentin was about to kill Justin! And what is with them never mentioning names when referring to people? I have no idea what's going on."
"We've been spotted!"
I gasped. "Hide the IDs! Pull the curtains! Hide under the covers!"
"This is serious, Rory! Miss Patty saw you leaving Lane's house." Mom sat next to me on the couch and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know how difficult this is for you."
I sighed. "She really saw me?" I asked. Mom nodded. "All right," I sighed, "we have to tell people. Call Taylor, see if he'll let us call a town meeting."
Mom gasped. "You're really gonna tell people?"
"What else can I do?" I asked. "If we ignore it, Miss Patty will just tell everyone her own ideas on what happened, and then we'll get townies gathered around the windows every second of the day, and we'll eventually have to tell them. I should just get it over with."
"Okay," Mom said, staring at me. After a minute, her face burst into a huge smile and she grabbed me in a hug. "I'm so proud of you! You're like a miniature adult!"
"Thanks, Mom," I laughed.
"Hello?" a voice asked from the door. "Is anyone home?"
"Dad's home," I told Mom as we separated.
"Is that what that noise was?" Mom asked as we walked from the living room to the entryway, only to find Dad covered in luggage. "Um, whatcha doin'?" she asked to my relief. At least, if he hadn't told me, he hadn't told Mom anything either.
"Movin' in," he said matter-of-factly, dropping his suitcases. He stepped over one pile to settle a kiss on Mom's cheek. "Help me?" he asked, grabbing her hand as he headed outside. Mom shot me a confused look. I knew that later we would be talking about whether Dad was messed up in the head, or just crazy enough to come back.
But for right now, Mom was helping him move his boxes and boxes of CDs in, and I was spared. Just in time to see what was going on with Quentin.
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"Hey, are you asleep?" Mom asked, poking her head in my door.
"No," I said. "Come on in."
I was lying on my bed, my hand on my stomach, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
"Scoot over," Mom commanded, trying to slide into bed next to me. I did, and then curled into her.
"So tell me what's going on with Dad."
She sighed. "I don't know. I kept trying to ask him, but he kept avoiding the question. He's moved into my room, by the way."
"I figured."
"Yeah. So for an entire twenty minutes after dinner, he kept saying, 'Isn't this great, Lor? Isn't it wonderful?' And I kept saying, 'Well, sure it is, Chris, but why are you here?' and he kept saying, 'Isn't this great, Lor? Isn't this wonderful?' So I think it's something big that he doesn't want to tell me yet." She shook her head. "Oh, but I'll force it out of him. If it takes me weeks and weeks, I'll do it. And if I don't like the reason, I'm kickin' him out."
I smiled in the dark. "So you're focusing on being nice in his time of need?"
"If it's a bad reason for a time of need, he's out."
"It's kind of okay having him here, though, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Mom said softly, her voice changing. I could tell by her tone that she was smiling widely. "It is kind of okay."
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Somehow, we managed to curtail the town-wide emergency meeting for three weeks, until the night before I was set to head off to Yale. Which was, by the way, a week earlier than I thought. I wrote down the date wrong! How did I do that? I mean, I guess maybe the fact that I was pregnant when I did that might have something to do with it, but still. I wrote it down wrong! Me! You know, they say that the mind is the first thing to go.
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"That was a harrowing experience," Mom exclaimed, plopping onto the couch. I plopped next to her, and settled my head on her shoulder.
"Mommy, make them go away," I moaned.
"Aw, sweetie. That's what you get for telling them." She settled an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to her. "It's your own fault that they're now throwing you a baby shower."
"But I don't want one!" I wailed.
"I know. But hey—at least they're going to help load Luke's truck for driving to Yale tomorrow."
"Why are you taking Luke's truck anyway? You can't drive stick."
"Ah, but see, Luke doesn't know that."
I rolled my eyes. "When you wreck his truck and he never talks to you again, I'm going to point and laugh."
"Then I've obviously taught you well," Mom laughed.
I sighed. "What are we going to do with Dad?"
Mom sighed, too. "I don't know. I haven't really had a chance to talk to him. I don't have any idea what's going through his head right now."
"You need to do that as soon as possible," I commanded.
"Yes, ma'am!" Mom saluted, and then leaned her head on top of mine. "You know I love you, right? I mean, a lot."
I smiled. "I know. I love you too."
"I knew that. But I just wanted to tell you again. Because I know when I was where you are right now, I didn't feel like my parents loved me that much. And I want you to know that you are loved. A lot."
"As shown by the town meeting."
"Mm, yes, very much. And I also don't want you to run away, like I did."
"I promise—no, I solemnly swear to not run away after my baby is born."
"Good." Mom hugged me quickly, and then said, "Alright, move. I gotta get up."
"Aww!"
"C'mon, you can go to your room and finish packing. We head off to Yale in the morning!"
"I know. Why can't we stay like this for a while, though?"
"Because I need to talk to your dad. Don't worry, I'll sneak into your room at some point and tell you all about my conversations."
"Okay." I let go of Mom and sat up. She kissed my forehead quickly and then headed out of the house, grabbing her jacket as she went. I sat on the couch for a moment, trying to decide whether I should revert to my now time-honored friend, the television, or try to shy the brain rot away until after at least the first day of classes. After a minute, the baby kicked me, and when I glanced down, I even saw it, so I decided to turn on my computer and find a website or two about pregnancy.
After I signed in, my computer decided to tell me that it'd been improperly shut down. I groaned, because I knew that this would take forever. I took the fifteen minutes or so to re-read a brochure I'd left on my dresser. It was from ninth grade, and I'd been going through all of my old school things in preparation for leaving high school when I'd found it. It talked all about the different things that could cause your period to be late. The reason I'd kept it, however, was because of the conversation scrawled around the edges: Lane and I had been utterly bored during what had been our third speech that "Prevent Destructive Decisions" week, and we'd taken to having written conversations on the brochures they'd handed out. I was almost entirely sure we had a conversation about the Founder's Day Punch on the one about not drinking and driving somewhere.
"One document recovered," the computer dinged at me.
A little curious—I didn't remember turning the computer off wrong, let alone while writing something—I clicked on it, and up came a letter. From…Jess. Yeah.
Rory—Surprise.
You may be wondering how on earth this letter made it onto your computer. The thing is, I sort of am in your room right now, writing this letter. You're not here. I knew you wouldn't be here, because you're in Europe with your mom.
I've already seen Luke, and he's ordered me out of town forever. This is a sign that I will be out of town forever. I'm writing this to tell you a few things, tie up a few loose ends, and hopefully this will end without you being too mad at me.
I said I'd call you. I did. I just didn't say anything, as I'm sure you've ascertained, judging by what you said to me the last time I called.
You were right. I wanted to say something. I wanted to say a lot of things. I don't know if I'm going to get to all of them in this letter—we'll see. I'll try.
I know I didn't handle things right. I hate that I didn't handle things right. I wish I had; I wish it all could have been different. But the truth is, it's not different, it's not going to be different, and I should just get over it.
I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything, but I didn't think it was that big a deal until it was too big a deal, and then I didn't feel like bothering you with what I was sure you would think as my frivolous little problems. However, to remedy that, I'm now going to tell you everything.
I stopped going to school. Well, really, I stopped paying attention in school, and when I realized I was failing out, I stopped going. I got a job at Wal-Mart. I can't remember if I told you that or not; Luke knew. Did he tell you? Oh, well. It doesn't matter. I worked at Wal-Mart, and at one point won Employee of the Month.
While I was skipping school doing that, the good principal at Stars Hollow High was stamping "KICK HIM OUT, DON'T LET HIM GRADUATE" on my permanent record. So…they didn't let me graduate. And if you don't graduate, you don't get to buy prom tickets. That's one reason we couldn't go to prom.
And the other reason we couldn't go to prom: I left. Bailed. I'm sure you remember.
My dad came. He didn't say much, just kind of showed up and told me who he was. Not long after that, I sort of ended up yelling at Luke, who yelled back. He also kicked me out. So I left, you know? Didn't think anyone wanted me there.
My dad's place is actually pretty nice. He owns a hot dog stand that he's obsessive about, which is kind of weird. He lives with his girlfriend and his girlfriend's kid. They're okay. Actually, they're all three strange, but they're easy enough to live with. Jimmy's got an entire room filled with books and records, and I've spent a lot of the summer just going through them. I left them a few days ago, coming to see you—or actually, your house—and I don't know if I'm going back…I think I'm going to stop in at my mom's soon, because I haven't seen her in a while.
I don't know why I'm still writing this letter. I also don't know if you're still reading. I just wanted you to know what I've been doing, thinking. Just wanted to get my thoughts out to you somehow. I hope this has accomplished that.
I hope you're good, too.
Jess.
Oh, I hated him now. I hated him, hated him, hated him, hated him with a passion like no other…but….
"Ooooh! Boys!" I moaned, quickly shutting my computer off—the right way—and closing it. I slid it into my computer bag and settled the bag on my shoulder, messenger-bag style, so that the strap was cutting across my now-twenty-three-weeks pregnant stomach. I edged out of the house and opened the front door of my Prius to put the bag in. I leaned across the seat and settled it into the passenger seat, on the floor. As I was easing back out, I noticed a piece of paper on the driver seat. I picked it up, unfolded it, and saw Jess's loopy handwriting. I balled it up quickly.
"Boys," I muttered again.
But the truth is, I settled the ball of paper into my pocket. And I left it there, hoping that maybe I'd forget about it and see it later and read it and wouldn't hate him anymore. Because I didn't really hate him. Just…hated him. Or, strongly disliked. Or only mildly disliked. Or only kinda sorta disliked. Or liked. Or liked him a lot. Or, maybe, I even still kinda loved him.
I sighed. "Boys. Mood swings. Why would God torture us with both of those?" I glanced up at the heavens, hoping for an answer, but found none.
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"Okay, now…say 'cheese!'" Mom exclaimed.
"Cheese," I said half-heartedly, my now-pasted on smile looking a little worse for the wear, I could tell.
"I'm not happy," she pouted after blinding me.
"Why?" I asked, blinking.
"It looks posed," she complained.
"It is posed," I pointed out.
"I know, but it's not supposed to look posed."
"Lemme try," up-till-now silent Dad said, pulling the camera from Mom's hands. "Go pick up your backpack or something and walk out of your room, and then go ahead and walk out of the front door," he commanded, pointing to my room.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay, you can try," Mom started, "but make sure to only get her so you can't tell she's pregnant. 'Cause that's an easy way to ruin a goin'-off-to-college shot. You know, 'this was the day she headed off to Yale. Yeah, she's awfully preggers, huh?' I mean, that's gonna be an embarrassing explanation all on its own."
"Done!" Dad announced, handing the camera back to Mom.
"What? What'd you do? I only saw about four flashes. Lemme tell ya, that's not good enough." She looked over the shots he'd taken in the camera. "Wow, these are…these are good." She looked at Dad. "Evil. Why'd you have to take over camera duties? Now I look like a bad camera person."
"No, of course not, Lor. You could never look like a bad anything."
"Aw. Well, you're gonna have to stay around for a little while. Don't you think so, Rory?"
I smiled at how happy my mom was. "Yeah."
"Good. You've been vindicated, Chris. You're here to stay for a little while."
"Good," Dad smiled.
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Mom allowed me to drive my own car to Yale; I was very surprised. Actually, I was a little more surprised that I was allowed to get out of the town without three or four hangers-on. I had to forcibly pry Kirk off the passenger door before leaving town.
When I pulled up at Yale, I had to wait for Dad to crawl out of the last parking space available, which happened to be right behind Luke's truck.
"Nice score," I announced, after parking.
"Thanks," Dad said, using the paper towel Mom handed him to wipe the ketchup from his forehead. "We thought it was a pretty nice touch."
"Yep, dead person in the only empty parking spot. That won't scare any freshmen too much. I mean, I certainly wasn't scared."
"Don't be so passive-aggressive," Mom chided.
"I'm sorry. Don't be so scary!"
"It's hard, I'm sorry!"
"Name?" some girl popped up behind Dad's shoulder and asked.
"Rory Gilmore," I said quickly.
"Rory Gilmore, Rory Gilmore," she muttered, flipping pages on her clipboard. "There you are. Welcome to Yale," she said, holding out her hand. I reached my own to shake it, but my mom announced, "Hold the shake! Hold the shake!"
"Mom," I groaned, rolling my eyes.
"Chris, take the picture, take the picture!" Mom commanded, shoving the camera at Dad's chest.
"Sorry," I told the girl whose hand I was still holding, in an awkward 'about-to-shake' position.
"It's okay," she said. "Happens all the time."
"Okay, shake!" Dad announced, the camera plastered to his face. We did, and then gladly and quickly let go of each other's hands.
"Hello, Rory. I'm Tess, I'm your freshmen counselor. I'll be living in the building and there for whatever you need. Now, I'm sure you've informed the college about your special…circumstances?" Tess asked, her eyebrows raised and her thoughts on my stomach, I could tell.
"Of course," Mom nodded. "They've been informed a few times over, too." Mom chuckled, and she sounded a little uncomfortable.
"Right," Tess nodded. She returned her attention to me. "I'll be giving a tour for Durfee girls you should not miss."
"Yeah, at twelve, right? Followed by the optional express lunch twelve to two, which is all followed by the telecommunications orientation and internet ID distribution, parents' reception eleven to one."
"Uh-huh," Tess nodded again. "You memorized the schedule."
"She's not weird or anything. She just has a really good memory," Mom said quickly.
"Of course. Well, get your camera ready."
"Why?" Dad asked.
"Just do it, Christopher. Stop asking."
"I'm giving Rory her key," Tess said, before plopping the key into my hand unceremoniously, smiling stupidly for the camera. Dad snapped a few more pictures.
"Thanks again," he called as Tess wandered off, walking up to random girls and asking, "Name?"
"Well, that was fun," Mom said. "Grab a bag," she instructed Dad.
"I was wondering how long it would be before my pregnancy was pointed out," I said. I was carrying my bookbag and laptop computer bag, but Dad took them both away from me so I was empty-handed.
"Didn't have to wait too long, didya?" Mom smiled a tight smile. "I'm sorry, sweetie. But I'm really proud that you're so determined to do this, even after everything that's happened."
"Well, you've worked really hard to get me here. So've I. I deserve this."
"Damn right, you do!" Dad smiled. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and planted a kiss on my head. "I'm proud of ya too, Ror."
"Thanks, Dad." I smiled back, and we headed to my room.
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After Tess's tour and receiving of my various student IDs, I wandered back into my room. A quiet younger girl followed me and plopped onto a seat in the common room. I moved my suitcase from the floor to the bed, so I could start unpacking, and then just gave up.
"Hi," I said, exiting the room and walking in front of the girl. "I'm Rory Gilmore. I guess we're suitemates."
The girl stood up and said, "I'm Tanna Schrick. You're pregnant."
"Oh, uh-huh," I nodded, placing my hand on my stomach. "That means I'm gonna move out during the second semester."
"Oh. I'm adopted."
"Oh. I'm not." This girl was kinda strange, but oddly endearing.
"As they're ransacking your room, professional thieves typically start at the bottom drawer and work their way up. That way they don't have to close drawers before opening the next one. Saves time." She nodded, as if reiterating her point.
"Huh," I nodded. "That's nice."
"I'm not so great at extemporaneous speaking, so I've memorized some quick conversational facts I can whip out at a moment's notice. Oh, when I get to know you better, I'll memorize some facts that are more specific to your person."
"Good. That shows…something, I dunno. How old are you?"
"Sixteen." She smiled.
"Sixteen," I repeated.
"On Tuesday," she nodded.
"Well. Happy Birthday."
"Thank you."
"Okay, well, I'm gonna go finish unpacking."
"Okay," Tanna said, sitting back down and commencing her staring at the wall. When I walked out of my room ten minutes later, she was still there.
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My parents left not long after I'd introduced myself to Tanna. Mom was babbling about buying me more stuff. I clung desperately to the idea that Dad could talk her out of it, but I had a feeling I would be seeing Mom at least once more before she let me stay at Yale all by myself.
Luckily, I got a big surprise that took my thoughts off of my mom for a long time.
"Um, another suitemate has arrived," Tanna announced after timidly knocking on my door.
"Oh, yeah?" I asked, putting my last shirt into the dresser and standing up.
"Yeah," Tanna nodded. "She's a little weird."
I stifled a smile at the idea of Tanna calling someone weird.
"Um, I've already forgotten her name. I'm a disaster with names."
"That's okay." I started to walk out of my room.
"It's the name of a city, like Athens or Rome or something."
I stopped and stared. Paris was standing in the middle of the common room, three suitcases around her feet. "Paris?" I asked.
"Gilmore," she nodded at me, calm and collected. "Wow, you're—you're really pregnant, aren't you?"
I nodded. "That's what happens after a while. What are you doing here?"
"I go here. Sorry, I'm about to regress into a Legally Blonde moment. I'm going to Yale, too. We're roommates."
"Oh, good. Someone I know." I sighed, and then smiled. "It's nice to see you again."
"Yeah. It is." She smiled back, and then ducked her head to stare at her luggage. "Jamie's supposed to be here in a sec. He went to get more stuff out of the car."
"That's so sweet! You've got him doing menial labor already."
"Yeah, I'm good at delegating authority like that." Paris beamed. "Can't wait to tackle the staff of the Daily News."
"You'll be editor before long," I smiled.
"That's the idea." Paris grinned, and then leaned over and hugged me quickly. "I'm glad you're still coming here. It's…really amazing, you know? I don't think I'd be able to do the same in your shoes."
"Mm, try to tell that to me in a week or two. It's only been six hours and already my feet feel like they're about to fall off."
"Well, you should sit. Get off your feet. Knowing you, you're through unpacking already."
I smiled. "You remembered."
"You, Gilmore, are hard to forget."
"As are you, Gellar."
"I'm Schrick," Tanna said suddenly.
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"Mom!" I screamed forty minutes later, standing outside the doors of the dorm.
"What? What?" she asked, running up.
"I missed you!" I yelled, throwing my arms around her and squeezing.
"Okay, whoa! Maybe the pregnancy hormones, mixed with all the moving, has got you a little homesick?"
"Where have you been? I thought you'd be here twenty minutes ago!"
"Oh, really?" Mom raised her eyebrows. "I didn't realize I was expected."
"I knew you were coming back," I said dismissively. "It took you a long time!"
"Oh, poor baby. I'm sorry." We stood there for a few more minutes, entwined in a hug, until she said, "Okay, let's maybe move this more into the suite."
"Okay," I said.
"Okay," she whispered. The second we crossed the threshold I threw my arms around her again.
"Spend the night," I said desperately.
"Wow. First, you have to promise to never say those words like that ever to a person of the male persuasion."
"Okay. Stay."
"All right, all right. I'll stay."
"Good!" I grinned and tightened my grip.
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"So, how are things with your boys?" I asked that night. I was lying on my new mattress, on my new bed, in my new room at Yale.
Mom, lying on the mattress on the floor, sighed. "Boys are sucky."
"Dad still won't tell you what he's doing in town?"
"Oh. Yeah, he said that he's afraid Sherry's cheating on him. Of course, he didn't say anything about whether he'd talked to her about it."
"Maybe he ran."
"Yeah, this family's great at the running thing." She sighed again. "I don't know. I feel like I should just welcome him being around a lot. I mean, he helped us move you in. But, you know, he won't open up to me!"
"Maybe you should conveniently lock yourselves into a tiny space and force yourself to work out all of your problems."
"This isn't TV, kid. Not that that's such a bad idea. It's just a little extreme."
"Yeah. I guess. I kinda wish I could lock myself into a tiny space with someone and force him to help me work out all of our problems." I grumbled. "Boys are sucky."
"Aw, sweets. You could always just ask Luke for his address."
"No, it's fine. He just…he left me this letter, talking all about how why he left. But he never really said why he left, you know?" I sighed. "It's just complicated, and I kinda just wish I didn't have to think about him ever again."
"No offense, babe, but I've felt the same about Chris quite a few times."
I sighed, this time feeling tears at the corners of my eyes. "Does it ever get easier?" I asked, my voice breaking. I was a second away from blubbering, I could tell.
"Oh, honey." Mom crawled from the floor and tried to squeeze herself onto the bed next to me. She wrapped her arms around me. "Don't worry. At some point, you'll have a wonderful kid just like I do, and then you'll think it's all worth it. I promise." She planted a kiss in my hair. "It's all worth it."
I nodded, keeping myself wrapped in a nice little Mom-cocoon. After a few minutes, Mom spoke up again.
"You know what Luke did this summer?"
"What?" I asked, silently saying 'segues are for kids.' Mom doesn't seem to understand that not everyone is in her head, following her thoughts.
"He got married, and now he's getting divorced."
"Wow," I said quietly.
"Yeah. Isn't that big? I was amazed when he told me."
"I guess so. But what does that have to do with you?" I asked pointedly. She shouldn't have been stressing herself out about both Dad and Chris. She was gonna get an ulcer one of these days.
"I…I don't know," she said, caught off-guard. "I was just thinkin' about him, I guess."
"Uh-huh."
"Hey. No judgmental noises here. This is a non-judgmental area," Mom commanded.
"Okay," I said, sniffling a little again.
Mom kissed my forehead. "I love you. So much."
"Love you, too," I murmured, starting to drift off.