Chapter 8 – Of Pictures and Goodbyes
"I need to tell you how you light up every second of the day
But in the moonlight you just shine like a beacon on the bay"
Elton John, 'Something About the Way You Look Tonight'
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A week had passed.
Rachel knew there had been a confrontation between Luke and Lorelai after she left. Upon her return to the diner, Luke was tensely serving the customers coffee. Rachel, not wanting to disturb him, had wandered upstairs. She had found Lorelai, red-faced and winded, sitting on the couch. Rachel had been concerned, of course, for it wasn't in her nature to hold grudges. She had asked Lorelai what was wrong, but Lorelai refused to talk. Soon after, Lorelai had stumbled down the stairs and out of the diner, never sending Luke a glance. Rachel had put two and two together and had come up with the fight theory.
Luke was miserable. He yelled at the customers, broke at least five dishes, and wouldn't leave the diner. He would hardly talk to Rachel, even when she urged him to open up and tell her what was wrong.
For Rachel, it was a week from hell. Every time the diner door opened, Luke would get this look on his face. A hopeful look, as if he wished Lorelai would appear in the doorway, begging for coffee like everything was normal. Rachel was forced to stand beside him, watching as that hopeful look faded into despair.
She knew what was wrong. Luke needed Lorelai in his life. He needed her, every morning, to come in and talk to him, get her early morning coffee fix. When Lorelai wasn't there, Luke became a different man. He was not only quiet, but bitter. He hated everyone, wouldn't talk, and radiated misery.
Luke without his Lorelai made Rachel realize something; Luke didn't love her. He loved Lorelai more than anything in the world. And, surprisingly enough, this fact didn't hurt Rachel. She knew what she had to do.
She had developed her pictures from the festival. There were quite a few good ones. The best made her heart ache though, if only a tiny bit. It was of Luke and Lorelai, talking on the bench. The camera had captured Luke's face at the perfect moment. His gaze on Lorelai, a half-smile on his lips, the picture of him showed all the things he'd never say.
That night, Rachel packed her bags. Luke was closing the diner, so she was alone upstairs. Gathering her things was quick; she hadn't unpacked much, as if she knew she would be leaving soon. She walked down the stairs, the heels of her shoes loud on the narrow staircase. Luke stood at the counter, idly rubbing a rag on a spot that had disappeared long ago. He looked up when Rachel came, confusion in his eyes as he saw her suitcase.
"Rachel. You're leaving," he stated with a sigh.
Rachel nodded, dropping her suitcase by the stairs as she went behind the counter.
"Why?" Luke asked.
Rachel smiled sadly, shaking her head. She looked away from Luke, down at the picture she held in her hand, the perfect one of Lorelai and Luke.
"You don't love me," she said with conviction.
Luke's eyebrows rose, but he refused to meet her gaze.
"Rachel, I…" he tried, before trailing off.
Rachel took a step closer to him, setting the picture down gently on the counter in front of him. She watched realization come onto his face as he stared at it.
"Luke… don't wait too long to tell her, okay?" Rachel said.
When she left, the bell over the door jingled with finality. Luke watched her retreating form until it disappeared. Looking back down at the picture, his fingers traced the edges lightly. Even in the photograph she was beautiful.