The phone rang, one rainy mid-afternoon, my Dad with year and half-old Le-Le on his hip, and a book in his hand, and the distillers playing in the background picked up.
"'Lo?"
There was a pause on the other end. "May I please speak to Rory?" It was an American voice, a familiar voice.
"Hello Lorelai." Jess replied flatly.
"Jess??" She cried, her voice rising.
"Lorelai." He repeated.
"I saw one of her articles, in the New York Times and it said that she was an overseas correspondent from the London Chronicle, I thought how many Mariano's could there be in London?"
"More than you expected?"
"I called some Gilmore, R's first just in case..." She trailed off.
"Say it Lorelai, just in case I had left her." He paused. "Again. Jesus Christ! I was 17 Lorelai and I came back!"
"Can I speak to her?"
"No."
Her voice wavered on the other end. "What..?'
"She's not here, she's in Belarus. She'll be back next week."
"Oh. What about.." She stopped for a second as if to remember my name. "What about Addicus, where is he?"
"He's at school. I'm picking him up in about an hour."
"Oh." The tension over the phone was growing as they both tried to think of reasons to get off the phone.
"Daddy, juice." Le-Le whined throwing her arms around his neck.
"Who's that?"
"That's my daughter."
"I have a granddaughter? You had another kid and didn't even tell me; then again, you moved out of the country and didn't tell me! Am I that horrible of a person that you had to completely leave me, lock me out of your lives?" She breathed in, with a realization that she had just become her mother.
"What's her name?"
"Lorelai, Lorelai Leigh, but we call her Le-Le."
"Daddy!" Le-Le begged with more insistence.
"Can you tell Rory, when she gets home, to call me please. My phone number is the same."
"I'll do that."
"Alright, bye Jess."
"Bye Lorelai."
I imagine he was probably rattled, perhaps angry, with himself, at Rory for running away in the first place, or sad for having been away from home for so long. When he came to pick me up at school, something was different. His hair was messy as if he had been running his fingers through it for hours, his hands were spotted with ink as if he couldn't think of anything to write and spun the pen between his fingers instead. He had Le-Le on his shoulders and he held my backpack and loosened my tie.
"I heard from someone special today." He stated out of the blue half way home.
"Mom?" I asked looking up at him, holding his hand, still in the stage of denial that I didn't realize their relationship had fallen almost completely apart.
"Nope, Mom's still in Belarus, but I heard from your Grandma."
I scratched my head, miffed. "I have a grandma?"
I didn't really understand what was going on, as he explained to me that I actually had two grandmas. Both who lived in America and both whom I had never met before. To tell you the truth I wasn't interested at all. I asked him if we could go to the park, and we did.
I slid down the slide and pushed Le-Le on the swings occasionally cutting my eyes over to my Dad sitting on the bench, a book on his lap, his eyes mutely following us, his mind clearly somewhere else. I didn't understand what was weighing so much on him, I smiled and waved. Hoping I could somehow cheer him up. He smiled back at me, waved back and came over, and just like that, he threw his moody broody mood out the window. At least in front of me. Later that week my Mom returned from her trip, in the car on the way home they talked politics, when we got home she threw her travelling case on the bed, hugged me, kissed Le-Le and went to work. Pouring over notes, getting the crinkle on her forehead that proved she was concentrating. My Dad shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Your mother called." He tried to say it off the cuff as if it was something that hadn't been bothering him.
She turned around. "What?"
"Lorelai, she called on Wednesday."
"How did she find us?" She raised her eyebrows and looked at him wide-eyed.
"One of your articles that got picked up by the New York Times, she 411'ed Mariano's living in London and got me."
"I should call her."
"That was her wish."
Rory went back to her work, Jess put me to bed, and sometime between the time I went to bed and the time I woke up, Lorelai was called.
It was raining the next day, when Dad set off to take me to school. We huddled under our umbrella, me splashing in puddles in my yellow rubber boots.
"Guess what?"
Always the energetic guesser, I responded. 'What?"
"We are going on a trip."
"With Mom?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Kind of. In two weeks Mom is taking a trip to Washington, which is where?"
I looked at him belittling like. "It's in America."
"Good. Mom's gonna go, and later you and me and Le-Le are going to fly to Connecticut and meet your Grandma, and my Uncle Luke in the town where Mom grew up and she's going to meet us there."
Me, of course the energetic six year old, was much more excited about the plane ride and the salt and vinegar pretzels my Mom always gave me from the plane, than the impending family reunion.
I wonder how much my Mom and Dad thought before deciding to take a trip back to Stars Hollow the place they had energetically moved halfway across the world to escape from. I imagine my Mother was looking forward to proving that she had become successful despite me, the illegitimate child, and my Dad, the bad boy boyfriend who almost knocked her life off track. Maybe she wanted to see her mother, a woman who had been her best friend and her confidant for 18 years. For my Dad, I don't know, the thought of making a seven-hour journey with two young children I am sure was not at all appetizing, as well as returning to a place where people still considered his actions that he had done as a seventeen year old boy as reasons to shun him. I think he went for my Mom, because he always loved her more that she loved him.
Before we left, my Dad sat me down in my favourite chair and explained to me that we were going to visit Grandma.
"Now what's our rule?" He asked me.
"Always try to be nice." I replied. "Within reason." I added with a grin.
"That's right, so if suddenly there is a middle aged woman with an American accent pinching your cheeks and hugging you, and I'm not doing a flying rugby tackle screaming 'Pervert', what does that mean?"
"I have to be nice."
Dad grinned at me, tousled me hair. "Within reason."
"'Lo?"
There was a pause on the other end. "May I please speak to Rory?" It was an American voice, a familiar voice.
"Hello Lorelai." Jess replied flatly.
"Jess??" She cried, her voice rising.
"Lorelai." He repeated.
"I saw one of her articles, in the New York Times and it said that she was an overseas correspondent from the London Chronicle, I thought how many Mariano's could there be in London?"
"More than you expected?"
"I called some Gilmore, R's first just in case..." She trailed off.
"Say it Lorelai, just in case I had left her." He paused. "Again. Jesus Christ! I was 17 Lorelai and I came back!"
"Can I speak to her?"
"No."
Her voice wavered on the other end. "What..?'
"She's not here, she's in Belarus. She'll be back next week."
"Oh. What about.." She stopped for a second as if to remember my name. "What about Addicus, where is he?"
"He's at school. I'm picking him up in about an hour."
"Oh." The tension over the phone was growing as they both tried to think of reasons to get off the phone.
"Daddy, juice." Le-Le whined throwing her arms around his neck.
"Who's that?"
"That's my daughter."
"I have a granddaughter? You had another kid and didn't even tell me; then again, you moved out of the country and didn't tell me! Am I that horrible of a person that you had to completely leave me, lock me out of your lives?" She breathed in, with a realization that she had just become her mother.
"What's her name?"
"Lorelai, Lorelai Leigh, but we call her Le-Le."
"Daddy!" Le-Le begged with more insistence.
"Can you tell Rory, when she gets home, to call me please. My phone number is the same."
"I'll do that."
"Alright, bye Jess."
"Bye Lorelai."
I imagine he was probably rattled, perhaps angry, with himself, at Rory for running away in the first place, or sad for having been away from home for so long. When he came to pick me up at school, something was different. His hair was messy as if he had been running his fingers through it for hours, his hands were spotted with ink as if he couldn't think of anything to write and spun the pen between his fingers instead. He had Le-Le on his shoulders and he held my backpack and loosened my tie.
"I heard from someone special today." He stated out of the blue half way home.
"Mom?" I asked looking up at him, holding his hand, still in the stage of denial that I didn't realize their relationship had fallen almost completely apart.
"Nope, Mom's still in Belarus, but I heard from your Grandma."
I scratched my head, miffed. "I have a grandma?"
I didn't really understand what was going on, as he explained to me that I actually had two grandmas. Both who lived in America and both whom I had never met before. To tell you the truth I wasn't interested at all. I asked him if we could go to the park, and we did.
I slid down the slide and pushed Le-Le on the swings occasionally cutting my eyes over to my Dad sitting on the bench, a book on his lap, his eyes mutely following us, his mind clearly somewhere else. I didn't understand what was weighing so much on him, I smiled and waved. Hoping I could somehow cheer him up. He smiled back at me, waved back and came over, and just like that, he threw his moody broody mood out the window. At least in front of me. Later that week my Mom returned from her trip, in the car on the way home they talked politics, when we got home she threw her travelling case on the bed, hugged me, kissed Le-Le and went to work. Pouring over notes, getting the crinkle on her forehead that proved she was concentrating. My Dad shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Your mother called." He tried to say it off the cuff as if it was something that hadn't been bothering him.
She turned around. "What?"
"Lorelai, she called on Wednesday."
"How did she find us?" She raised her eyebrows and looked at him wide-eyed.
"One of your articles that got picked up by the New York Times, she 411'ed Mariano's living in London and got me."
"I should call her."
"That was her wish."
Rory went back to her work, Jess put me to bed, and sometime between the time I went to bed and the time I woke up, Lorelai was called.
It was raining the next day, when Dad set off to take me to school. We huddled under our umbrella, me splashing in puddles in my yellow rubber boots.
"Guess what?"
Always the energetic guesser, I responded. 'What?"
"We are going on a trip."
"With Mom?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Kind of. In two weeks Mom is taking a trip to Washington, which is where?"
I looked at him belittling like. "It's in America."
"Good. Mom's gonna go, and later you and me and Le-Le are going to fly to Connecticut and meet your Grandma, and my Uncle Luke in the town where Mom grew up and she's going to meet us there."
Me, of course the energetic six year old, was much more excited about the plane ride and the salt and vinegar pretzels my Mom always gave me from the plane, than the impending family reunion.
I wonder how much my Mom and Dad thought before deciding to take a trip back to Stars Hollow the place they had energetically moved halfway across the world to escape from. I imagine my Mother was looking forward to proving that she had become successful despite me, the illegitimate child, and my Dad, the bad boy boyfriend who almost knocked her life off track. Maybe she wanted to see her mother, a woman who had been her best friend and her confidant for 18 years. For my Dad, I don't know, the thought of making a seven-hour journey with two young children I am sure was not at all appetizing, as well as returning to a place where people still considered his actions that he had done as a seventeen year old boy as reasons to shun him. I think he went for my Mom, because he always loved her more that she loved him.
Before we left, my Dad sat me down in my favourite chair and explained to me that we were going to visit Grandma.
"Now what's our rule?" He asked me.
"Always try to be nice." I replied. "Within reason." I added with a grin.
"That's right, so if suddenly there is a middle aged woman with an American accent pinching your cheeks and hugging you, and I'm not doing a flying rugby tackle screaming 'Pervert', what does that mean?"
"I have to be nice."
Dad grinned at me, tousled me hair. "Within reason."