There's Luke
Chapter 3
When I open my eyes an hour later, I see the empty coffee mug on the table next to me, and I remember what happened this morning. I take a morning breath -- one of those really deep ones that stretches your lungs and gets the blood pumping -- and smile as I exhale. My hair is still wet and the only thing I'm wearing is one of Luke's plaid shirts, but I can't remember the last time I felt this good about waking up.
I know I should be worrying about this. I should be worrying about the fact that I'm wearing a diamond on my left hand. There are so many issues we haven't talked about or even thought about. But I'm not worried.
I'm not. How great is that? I just know that it's going to be all right. Even better than all right. It's going to be really good.
As much as I'd like to spend the rest of the day curled up in Luke's bed, waiting for him to come upstairs and join me, I need to get back to my life. I amble over to my pile of clothes, and dig out my cell phone. No new messages. That's weird. I'm surprised Rory hasn't called.
Ah. Rory.
Squatting there on the ground next to the remnants of last night's outfit, I close my eyes and try to remember if it really happened. I know the Luke thing is real. Everything about Luke is real, I know that. But the Rory thing. The thing with my parents. Did that really happen?
I can see her in that pool house, unpacking. She glances at me, but doesn't even acknowledge the fact that I'm standing right outside. She just keeps unpacking.
I open my eyes. "No," I whisper to nobody. I shake my head. "No," I repeat, standing up. Rory is not taking this from me. Not this morning. I can deal with her later. But this morning, I get to enjoy last night.
I put on my clothes, pull back my hair, and descend into the diner. I used to get sideways glances from nosy Stars Hollow residents when I'd try to slip out of the diner unnoticed. Now, no one looks up from their newspaper or morning conversations. That's nice. I like that it's not a big deal. Still, I instinctively guard my ring. Don't get me wrong. I want everyone to know I'm engaged. I want every person in Stars Hollow to know.
I just need a couple people to know first.
He's standing behind the counter, making a new pot of coffee. I walk up to him and get just inches away before he notices.
"Good morning, again, Dinerman," I whisper, as I wrap my hands around him.
"So we're still on that?" he asks.
"You know me. I like to make sure the horse is good and dead before I stop kicking."
He presses the brew button, or whatever he has to press to get the machine to start working, and turns around. He puts a hand on each side of my waist. It's like no one else is here. He's smiling and I just feel really calm. Maybe I can make it through this whole perfect moment without thinking about the fact that I have to go home, and then I'll have to think about Rory.
"I'm assuming you want a cup for the road?" he says, gesturing towards the pot of coffee filling up behind him.
"Mmm," I respond. It's funny because he used to try so hard to get me to drink less coffee. Now he's encouraging me. He used to try to get Rory to drink less coffee, too. He blamed me for her addiction.
Wait. There's another thought I can't think right now. This is getting to be really hard.
He pours my coffee and I take it from him, still trying to hide my ring but admiring the way it shines in the fluorescent lights. "So, I'm just going to run home, you know, take care of some stuff. I'll come back in a few hours for lunch?"
"So I guess I'm making lunch?" he asks.
"Isn't that part of the deal? Because if it's not, I'm going to make it part of the deal. Why else would I choose the owner of a diner?" I say this as I'm walking away from him, making my way to the door. I flash him a grin as I leave, and I can feel him rolling his eyes as I walk away. Perfect.
Okay. I made it to the car and this has still been my morning. Even as I sit here in the car where, just a few days ago, she told me she would never do anything stupid again, I'm still not letting her mistake ruin my perfect morning.
As I drive the short distance home, I try to make a mental list of the things I need to do today. This is harder than I'd anticipated. I actually did the laundry yesterday; I needed a clean outfit for dinner with my parents. The dinner where we were supposed to fix the Rory problem. I don't need to clean up the house; it's not like there's been anyone else around making a mess.
But I need some kind of a task, because otherwise I'll end up going home and worrying about my daughter. It's not fair. She gets to make bad decisions and I have to worry about them. I don't want to do that. This is her mistake.
I could stop by the inn, but I know I don't need to. I could stop by Sookie's, but it's still so early and I'm sure she's exhausted. But this is the first decent idea I've had. Maybe I can go home, get changed and fix my hair, and bring Sookie a gift. There. Good plan.
When I pull up to the house, it already seems different. And that's weird because it's been me here, alone, for a while now. Why does it seem so changed now that she's living in that pool house?
I walk to the front door, but I stop before I go in. Something makes me turn around. I'm trying so hard not to think about Rory that she's all I can see. She's there, running in circles in the front yard. She's there, reading Sense and Sensibility on the bench on the porch. She's over there, making snow angels.
And she's not alone. She's with this woman who looks like I do, just younger and smiling.
But that woman isn't me. It can't be me. And that little girl isn't mine. At least she's not mine anymore. She belongs to someone else. Or she doesn't exist. Not like that anyway.
I'm not supposed to be thinking about Rory. When I realize this I immediately go inside. I put my bag down and take a deep breath. I have this overwhelming sensation that I'm trespassing. I don't live here. This isn't mine. With every step I take, the sensation becomes stronger and stronger.
Every memory in this house is one of this bond, this time when that little girl and that woman lived only for each other. But things aren't really like that anymore, are they?
Now I'm in her room and I'm not exactly sure how I got here, or why my subconscious decided this would be a good place for me to come. Her room seems so empty, and not like when she's at school and I know she'll be home in a few days. Different. Colder.
I sit on her bed and let my face fall into my hands. When I look up again, the first thing I see is her Yale wall. Wow. This is hard.
Well, I tried. I tried really hard not to let this ruin my morning. But hey, that's what you get when you're a mother, right? That's the part they don't tell you about when you're all happy and watching your little girl look for fairies in the front yard; one day she's going to do something really, truly stupid, and you'll just have to take it. And worry about it. Because you're a mother.
I fall sideways onto her pillow. I prepare myself to inhale the smell of her hair as my head hits her pillow, but it doesn't smell like her.
I don't know why I'm crying now. I can't tell if I'm more upset that the pillow doesn't smell like her than I would be if it did. At least if I cold smell her in this stupid pillow, it would be proof that she was here. But this whole house feels like it belongs to someone else, and now I feel like I'm lying in some random bed.
I'm trying to get some perspective here. I keep trying to tell myself that if this is her one, great mistake in life, then at least she's not a pregnant 16 year old and her life will be different than mine. Because that was my one goal here, to raise a kid who had everything that I never got to have. But as hard as I try, I can't get that perspective, because I'm just overcome with this feeling that I've failed her.
I told Luke last night that Rory was supposed to have more than me. I meant that in two ways. I wanted her to have more than I did, to have the college experience, to have a more direct route to being happy than I did. But I also meant it literally. I wanted her to have more than just me. I wanted it to be more than just Rory and Lorelai. I wanted that for her, and maybe a little bit for me. So when she told me she was dropping out, I did what I had to. I removed that option. I took myself out of the picture. And now there is no Rory and Lorelai. She has to have more than me because she doesn't have me.
My tears are falling sideways across my face onto the stupid non-Rory pillow. I throw it off the bed and rest on her mattress. It doesn't smell like her either.
I hate being here like this. I hate that an hour ago I was floating, and now I'm crumpled on my daughter's bed, feeling sorry for her and for me. I'm really, really tired of this. Really tired of this feeling. Maybe if I just shut my eyes, it will feel better.
I guess I fell asleep, because I'm waking up now, and Luke is sitting next to me, watching me. I'm not really surprised he's here, but it's a nice feeling. I wipe my eyes instinctively, but the tears are all dry. The red numbers on Rory's digital clock 3:17 p.m. I slept for a long time.
"How did you know I was here?" I ask him.
He shrugged. "I don't know. When you weren't at the diner for lunch, I just guessed." Silence. "Are you okay?"
I sit up. "Yeah." He raises his eyebrows. "No. I will be." I get out of the bed. "Do I smell burgers?"
"I just brought some stuff over from the diner."
This turns out to be the understatement of the year, because when I enter the kitchen, I find the table set with a tablecloth (where did he find that?) and placemats. There is a bread basket set in the middle of the table, next to a fresh pot of coffee and a vase of purple flowers. It doesn't feel like my kitchen, but then again, it didn't feel much like my kitchen earlier today.
I sit down at the table and he puts a burger and fries down in front of me. He takes the opposite seat. Looking around, I can remember a time when Rory would sit where he is sitting, and some woman who I used to be sat here, and they would laugh together and eat reheated pizza. And as hard as I try to focus on Luke - the guy who just figured out that I needed him, and came over here, and brought me this food - I can't. All around me are the images of that girl and that woman that swirl around this whole house. I'm realizing that as long as those memories are swirling around, I can never get to the future. I'm drowning in this house. I need to get out of here. Suddenly, I remember something he said last night.
"Luke. I need to ask you something."
"Yeah," he says, clearly worried but pretending not to be.
"Last night, when I asked you to marry me, before you asked me, you were saying something about Taylor. What was that?"
I can see him considering my angle. Why am I asking? He's looking back at me, squinting a little bit. "No reason."
"Oh, okay." I take a bite of my burger. "It's just, you seemed pretty determined to talk to him about a house or something."
"No. Not really."
"You were screaming, 'Taylor! I need to talk to Taylor!' You were running around in little circles with steam coming out of your ears."
He tilts his head to the side and takes a deep breath. "I, uh… I did this thing with the Twickham house."
"A thing?"
"I kind of bought it."
"You bought the Twickham house?" I put my burger down on the plate. Um, wow. "To live in?"
He scoots back a little in his chair. "No. I mean, maybe. I don't know."
I lean forward. "Luke. You bought a house?"
He takes a deep breath. "It's just, the opportunity came up and I wanted to keep my options open. So, yeah, I bought it. But it doesn't matter because I got out of it."
"What?" For some reason, this bothers me more than the fact that he bought it in the first place.
"It was dumb to buy it. You'd never want to leave." He's squirming so much I'm kind of surprised he hasn't fallen out of his chair yet. "I was assuming that you'd say yes to marrying me and that you'd want to move into a new house, which clearly you don't, and it was stupid."
I'm staring at him, completely aghast. I think my mouth is hanging open a little. Luke bought a house to move into with me. He did this before we were engaged, before I'd really even thought about it.
And then I remember when he mentioned 'the kids.' It all makes sense. Luke has these big plans. Luke wants to move into the Twickham house with me, and have a family with me, and live his dream with me. And he actually went out and bought a house.
Evidently Luke is worried by my continuing silence because he reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine. "Lorelai, I am so sorry. I just, it was an idea I had to live there. But I understand why you would want to stay here. This is where your life is. Here, in this house."
I look him in the eye and smile just a little. And I have this odd feeling, like all those swirling images of Rory and Lorelai Gilmore aren't swirling anymore. They are still. Everything is calm.
"No, Luke, it's not." I shake my head. "I mean, it was. It used to be where my life was. But my life used to be her." For some reason, as I say that, I gesture towards her empty, non-Rory-smelling room. "Now it's not."
He looks truly confused, but I don't blame him for it. When he came here and found me in my daughter's bed, sleeping on top of her mattress in a dried puddle of tears, he figured that leaving this place would make it worse. But in reality, I think leaving this house would make it better.
I put my other hand on top of his. "I think we should do it."
He laughs this perfect surprised laugh. He's smiling and I feel as happy as I did when I left the diner this morning. "Lorelai…Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He laughs again and stands up. He kisses me and I stand up and we're standing in the middle of this kitchen and he just seems so excited. And now I'm excited. For the first time since I walked in here, I feel really good.
This still doesn't feel like my kitchen, but it doesn't matter now. Or at least it matters less now. When I got here today, I thought the house had changed. But it's not the house. The house served its purpose, but Rory changed. And I changed. And now it's time to move on.
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