AN: Hey everyone! First of all I can not believe the amount of reviews and support I have been getting. I've posted another story (not for Gilmore Girls) and it definitely was not as well received as this one. I want this story to have long chapters, thus I need more time to write. Unfortunately due to my hectic schedule, I will not be to post a lot. Hopefully I will be able to once a week, but I am not guaranteeing anything. It took me a whole month to write the first two chapters, but now that I know people want to read it I will be focused on writing more. Thanks again!
P.S. Thank you Callista Wolfwood, rosie4299, royaleve, BeDaZzLeNpLaiD, Mars18, Lioness-07863, KeitaWolf, Beeno, tickle582, four51, megliz716, emerem for reviewing. I know the story is a little weird and definitely AU and thanks for letting me know your opinion. For everyone, feel free to tell me if I have anything wrong because I am a new Gilmore Girls fan. Again thank you!
Rachel, Casey, and Demetra…thanks for being so supportive with my random stories and obsessive nature. You guys are so awesome for putting up with me. I love you!
Lauren (manydreams1216)
God, I can't stop crying. Alex can't see my like this. I'm actually planning on going in and talking to him. I'm crazy.
Smoothing out my skirt, I walk across the street to his house.
I knock on the door. I look like crap and I know that in no way am I presentable, but he's seen me at my worst.
Someone I've never seen answers the door.
"Hello?" he asks. He has a newspaper in his hand and glasses are sitting on the tip of his nose. His face looks a little like Alex's. He has the same strong jaw, but he has lines and wrinkles covering his face.
"Hi, my name is Mary Dugrey and I was wondering if Alex was home?" I wipe a stray tear away from my face. I don't know if he noticed it, but to keep up appearances. Maybe I just notice something, but the man peaked up at the mention of my last name.
"This is quite a pleasure and I rarely ever meet Alex's friends," he extends his hand to mine and I shake it. "I'm Alex's dad, Ken. Come on in." He waves me inside the house that holds my first experiences.
"I believe Alex is upstairs in his room. You may go up and see him." He directed me towards the stairs. "Miss Dugrey will you join Alex and I for dinner? Unfortunately Alex's mom Jen will not be in town, but you are welcome to join us."
I offer him a smile, "I'm not sure yet, but thank you for the offer. I appreciate it."
"Of course."
I jog up the stairs to Alex's room. I've never been one for walking up stairs. Down the hallway to the left, in the third door is Alex's bedroom. I was here this morning. It hasn't been that long.
Hearing the sounds of Led Zeppelin through the door, I know that Alex is in his room. For the third time today, I knock on the door of another dwelling. Still hesitant and nervous. I have not worked out my feelings for him and this conversation is almost the point of suicidal. My hands are fiddling with each other. I need something to fall back on. There's nothing. Oh well, I'm already falling and I might as well continue doing so.
As the door opens, I see his familiar face that I have studied many times. When he sleeps and I can't, I watch him. While he's sleeping he looks so content and peaceful. I know his life isn't exactly the easiest and it's much similar to mine, but he sleeps so peacefully. I fight in my sleep. It's a struggle and lately I've only been sleeping good when I'm him. He's steady.
"Mary," he acknowledges nodding his head at me.
"Alex I need to talk to you." Without permission I slide under the arm he's propped up against the door.
I can feel his smirk through the back of my head as he closes the door. "Mary you've never been one to talk."
Turning around to him, I place my hands on my hips and state, "Alex I'm serious. I need to talk to you."
For the first time he looked at me. Really looked at me. He dropped the smirk that adorned his face. Quickly he walked over to where I was standing in his room. "You've been crying. What's wrong?"
"I'm just confused."
"Why?"
I gave him a serious look. "What do you want out of me?"
"Everything," he states plainly.
"You want me. The whole package. The whole messed up package that's completely unstable that you can't control it. The package that's ready to blow up at any moment."
"That's what I want. You."
"What about Joe?" I say breathless.
"What about him? Break up with him. He doesn't matter. You've been screwing around with me for the past four months. Your relationship with him is already a fraud. There's no reason to be with him."
He's proposing that I break up with Joe. My father set me up with him. It was in June, a week after school let out, Dad had a party with all of his friends from college. Mom was there too. Joe Wexler is the first son of Hal and Joan Wexler. Perfectly acceptable to the Dugreys. Joe passed the test. I had never dated anyone before him. It started out simple. He asked me to movie and a dinner. I said yes and it went from there. It's a high school romance. Nothing more, nothing less. No mind-blowing feelings. Not really anything. He was there. I was there. It worked.
I was content for awhile. Three months to be exact. Then Alex happened. It's all a blur, but there are defining moments.
Sitting down on my bed, I place my hands in my face. I'm ashamed of the whole situation. "I know. I know," I repeat.
"Exactly," He bends down and takes my hands away from my face.
Ring. Ring. Ring. It's my cell phone. I reach in my pocket and answer it. "Hello?"
"Mare, it's Joe."
I groan lightly. "Hi."
"I need to see you."
"I can't right now."
"I can't see you right now either. I have a game tonight, but what about afterward?"
"I don't know. My dad's coming into town."
"Fine." He's angry. "If I don't see you tonight, I'll stop by your house tomorrow."
"That's fine."
"Alright, I love you."
Not thinking I respond, "Love you too."
Alex's hands leave my body. "I hate that," he yells. Where is this coming from? Why is he mad at me?
"Why are you mad at me?"
"Because I can't do this. I can't be in love with you and have you tell someone else that you love them. I just can't do this anymore."
"Did you just say you love me?"
"Yes, that's not the point though. The point is that you can't be here fucking me and telling another guy that you love him. It just isn't right." He turns away from me.
"You were perfectly fine with this relationship before. Why does it change now?" I ask. I can't deal with this anymore. There are too many mixed signals.
He turns around, "I started this whole thing because I had to get you out of my system. From that moment I first kissed you, I knew that I had to manipulate you and get you to be with me. If not mentally, then at least physically. It obviously didn't work and now I am back at square one. Are you happy? Are you happy that every single moment I am awake I think about you?"
I approach him and hold his hand. There is something comforting about his hands. "I feel the same way. Everything comes back to you. Part of me wants to just break it off with Joe and the other part wants to stay with him, where it's comfortable."
He drops his hand from mine. "You need to make a decision. It's either him or me. I'm not going to be the guy in the background that makes life bearable for you."
"Can I just think about it? I have to sort things out."
"Fine." It came out harsh. I don't think it was suppose to, but it did.
In a meek voice I respond, "Okay. I'll see you later."
"Yeah." Tired he rubs a hand through his black hair.
Turning away from him I walk out the door. Down the ornate hallway that I've walked so many times before. You know the term walk of shame? Well that always applies when I leave his room. Sometimes I feel guilty because I just cheated on my boyfriend and other times it's because I left him in there all by himself with no one to wake up next to him. Guilt. Something I always feel when I'm with him. Most of the time it's because I can never give all of myself to him. There's something holding me back.
Arriving home, I notice my dad's car in the driveway. Wow he actually came home. Mom must be ecstatic.
I walk through the front door which incases what has been home to me for the past year. It's not home. I've never really had a home, but if I knew what it was like to have a home I know that this wouldn't be what it was like.
Voices. Raised voices. They're fighting. Mom and Dad. Always. It never stops.
I think they are in the living room. Quietly I try to walk up the stairs. Right now I just want a hot shower that will wash away everything. No more. I can't stand it.
Thirty minutes later and I feel brand new. Okay maybe not brand new, but I have a new coating. I can be a little more resistant for the next 24 hours. A little more strength. All I need is a little more strength to face everyone, everything.
My cell phone rings. I don't want to say it again, but I hate that thing. No matter how reluctant I may be I answer it.
"Hello?"
"Mare, it's Hannah." At least right now it's someone I wouldn't mind talking to.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"What's up?"
"Are you going to the game tonight? It starts at seven."
"Yeah I know. I can't. Dad's home and you know what that means."
"Yeah. Well do you think you can make it out tonight? There is going to be a party at Reagan's house."
"Maybe. I just need to make it through dinner and then I can see if I can go."
She sighs knowing how much I hate "family" dinners. "Hopefully I'll see you later."
"Yeah. Bye."
"Bye."
Knock. Knock. I guess the parentals have discovered my presence at the home dwelling. I groan slightly. "Come in."
It's my dad. I see his blond hair that is unruly. Even at forty-one years old, Tristan Dugrey still has that youthfulness about him. There are the lines in his face that show the wear and tear over the years. Although never failing is the smile that adorns his face. I don't think there has ever been a time when it hasn't work. He knows it too. Always the arrogant air about him too. He can get whatever he wants.
"Mary, it's good to see you," he greets. No hugs, no kisses, just good to see you. Guess that's the ice of a society family.
"You too Dad. When was the last time? Three weeks ago." Sarcasm never ceases me.
He smiles. "I think it was."
I turned away from him and towards my mirror, pretending to brush my hair. I can't stand to look into his eyes that are so similar to mine. For some reason I have such a hard time looking at him. Maybe it's everything that has happened or that I know I'm so much like him it hurts to look at myself in a mirror.
"I heard that you stopped by your Grandmother's this afternoon."
"Yeah, I had to talk to her about something, but she didn't want to see me."
He didn't say anything for a moment. "Dinner is in ten minutes. Your mom and I have something we have to talk to you about."
"Okay." He walked out of my room quietly. Not making any sounds that were more than necessary.
After many agonizing minutes of debating how to handle myself, I finally walk downstairs at the precise time I was told. Ten minutes later I walk down the massive staircase into the dining room to the left. They are both sitting there. Dad at the head of the table facing me and Mom to his left. Her short brown hair is cut to her chin. It has always looked like that. I've seen pictures of her with longer hair, but ever since I can remember her hair has been short and smooth, never out of place. I don't understand. How can someone's hair always be in place? Every strand in an exact designated place. It's all appearance.
Slowly but surely I make my way to the seat across from Mom. We've always sat like this. Dad at the head and his two favorite girls sitting on both of his sides. How patriarchal? As soon as I sit down, the maid, Tina, places a salad in front of my father, then my mother, then me. It's one of those salads with walnuts and mandarin oranges in it. I pick out the walnuts and oranges from the green leaves and eat the two things I find appetizing. Silence reeks from the whole table. No one says anything.
After the salad course is removed, the main course of steak and fancy mashed potatoes are in front of me. I can't even look at the food. I'm not hungry. I just stare at the plate and occasionally push the potatoes around. I can't even look at them. Something's up and I don't like it. It's not like silence is rare at the Dugrey household, it's just that there is something going on and I can't stand it. The only thing that is keeping me from throwing the plate at the wall is this conversation inside of my head.
"Mary, aren't you going to eat anything?" Mom asks quietly, breaking the silence.
Without looking at her I respond, "I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat something. You're starting to look thin." Her of all people can not criticize my eating habits. She has no idea what is going on with me.
I just let out a grunt. "Mary!" Dad yells at me.
"What?" I look at him.
"Look at your mother when you are talking to her." He points with his fork to indicate Mom.
"I got to get out of here." I rise out of my chair and begin walking towards the front door. I don't have my car keys or anything. I just need to go for a walk. I'm suffocating in here.
With my back turned towards them, I hear the clatter of flatware. "Mary don't walk away from me!" he yells again. It's always yelling.
For some reason I turn around, "Why not? You and Mom have done it to me all my life!" My hands are formed in fists. Everything has been building up for the past sixteen years, especially this last year. I can't stand it anymore.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Dad questions firmly.
"I don't know. You tell me. You both are never here. Maybe you're here, but you're never here, really here. Nine times out of ten, Dad, you are in D.C. and Mom is here in her study doing god knows what. I have no idea that you're my parents. Because if you were you would understand exactly what is going on with me. Maybe I'm just a teenager and this is a phase. I don't know, but my friends, if you can call them that at least have relationships with their parents. I have no relationship with you guys." Tears are streaming out of my eyes. I can't stop them. I'm shaking. I don't like this feeling. I have no control and I haven't had any for a really long time. I'm falling into a hole.
They both say nothing. Their expressions don't tell me anything. They look like statues, like the masks that they've created for the past twenty years. Maybe they understand that this is true. Maybe they just haven't seen my side of things. I don't know.
Turning around again, I'm sobbing. I'm trying to wipe the tears from my eyes. I walk towards the front door and they still aren't saying anything. Are they so immune to my emotions that they don't see that I feel unloved or neglected? Are they unwilling to address the problems that our family has? I know I keep saying this, but I don't understand. I don't understand why they don't want to know me in the least bit. They probably have no idea what my favorite movie is, my favorite book, let alone any names of my friends besides Hannah and Joe. I don't even know that much about them. I only see the outside. I've never seen anything remotely important.
My hand is touching the knob. Then I hear my mother's voice, "Mary, wait!"
I keep my back towards her, not turning around. The movement of her across the dark hardwood floors, entices me to turn around. I don't want to get my hopes up so I remain in the same position, ready to leave, ready to turn around and face my mom.
"Mary," she says softly. Her hand touches my shoulder. Maybe she really is trying to reach out to me.
I turn around. Adorning her face are tears and her eyes are red. She cares. She doesn't like to see me like this. She wants to know me. She wants to understand me.
"Mom, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I yelled at you and Dad. I just don't know what to do anymore." I collapse onto her shoulder. For the first time I can remember her arms hold me. It's not a protocol hug. It's real and actually means something.
"Sweetie, it should be me who's sorry. I haven't been the mother to you I should have been."
"Sometimes I don't feel wanted. I can't tell you what I want to tell you. That's why I went to Grandma Lorelai's today, but she said that I was wrong about everything. I am wrong about everything. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't think I ever really did. I'm sorry." She pats her hand on my hair, reassuring me. Her tears are falling onto my head.
Strongly she whispers in my ear, "We're going to be a family again Mary. I promise."
"Really?" I raise my head from her shoulder and look at her in the eyes.
"Yes, Mary we are."
Dad's voice ruptures through Mom and I trying to make a breakthrough in our relationship as he walks towards our embrace. "Rory, don't lie to the girl."
"What are you talking about?" Mom asked Dad. An incredulous, but almost knowing look passes her face.
"You know why I came home this weekend."
"Tristan, please," Mom pleaded.
I look between Mom and Dad as they exchange a look. "What are you guys talking about?"
My Dad looks at me straight and says, "Your mother and I are getting a divorce." His hand runs over his face.
"What?" I ask again.
Mom tries to calm me down. "Nothing is final yet."
"Rory, this has been a long time coming. There is no use telling Mary that we are going to be family if we are not going to be together."
"Is that what you were going to tell me at dinner tonight?" I try to make a connection, "that you were going to get a divorce?"
Mom started, "Well we were going to warn you that it could be possible"
"It's going to happen," Dad interrupted her, "There's nothing that's going to stop it." He walks away from us and towards the living room, where there's the table with the liquor on it. He goes straight for the whiskey, pouring it hastily into a glass. I guess there's no formalities to keep up, so Dad decides to take it straight down his throat with no stopping. By his heavy breath after his gulp, I can tell it burned right down into his stomach.
Mom walks over to him. "Tristan can we please try again?"
"We've tried too many times before. First it was New York, then Geneva. They didn't work. Now we are back in Hartford and this isn't working. We've been trying for ten years and nothing has worked. Rory for once in your life you are going to have to realize that you failed at something." He's so harsh. I can see Mom wants to start crying again, but she doesn't. Something stops her. She places her long, thin hand on his wrist that is holding the glass with alcohol. "We can try again. I love you and I love this family. I'm not letting it fall apart."
"Rory," he snaps away his wrist from her, "It already has fallen apart! Can't you see that?" he boasts, "Can't you see it in our daughter?"
"She's a teenager with rotten parents, much similar to you at her age. Do you remember what you were like back then? You were mean, conniving and doing anything to get attention. Mary has been screaming for attention and we've just ignored it. We've been so consumed by our own lives that we haven't been able to see what is wrong with our daughter!" Mom fights back.
Tiredly he replies, "I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep going in this circle."
"Fine give up, like you always do!" She walks away. Quickly she goes up the stairs, no doubt crying her eyes. Dad makes her do that a lot.
Across the hallway from the sitting room, Dad gives me a look that says everything. They are not going to stay together and I'll probably have less of a relationship with him then I do now. He'll be in D.C. permanently, while Mom and I keep up appearances here in Hartford. Soon everyone will pour in their condolences and there will be more façades to keep up.
I don't think Dad has ever cheated on Mom. There is this undying devotion that they have for each other. When I was younger I think there was an incident of infidelity on Mom's part. Everyone would have expected it out Tristan Dugrey first, but no it was Rory Gilmore first. There was some retaliation that took place. People think that you can't hear them talking about your family, but you can. I know the whole story about what happened between Mom and Dad ten years ago.
Before Rory Gilmore reconnected with Tristan Dugrey in college, Logan Huntzberger was the man that had my mom's heart. Their relationship was filled with glamour and excitement. Logan was from a rich, Connecticut family. He was suave, intelligent, witty and was willing to put in the effort for Rory. Basically he charmed my mom's socks off, pants might be more fitting though. They broke up because Mom wanted a commitment and Logan didn't. He just wanted a go-to girl that would just be there. Rory didn't want that. She wanted a real relationship with both sides being completely divulged with their feelings, not something casual. Naturally they broke up and then Tristan Dugrey entered Rory Gilmore's life again and as some say the rest is history.
Well maybe not exactly. When I was five we were living in Hartford and I guess at a some function that Mom and Dad attended, Logan was there. He entertained her and they exchanged phone numbers, without my father knowing. Mom didn't wait very long. The next time Dad was out of town, Rory and Logan reacquainted themselves with one another. I'm not exactly sure what the extent of it was, but they reacquainted. Supposedly this went on for six months. For six months, Mom was doing god knows what behind Dad's back. As a five year old, I was pretty much oblivious to what was going on. I was consumed by finger paints and cartoons. My parents daily going-ons didn't really make much of a difference to me. I was woken up by nannies and tucked in by them. Once in awhile, I saw them at breakfast and dinner, but I never really ranked high on their list of things to attend to.
All the sneaking around when Dad was away, caught up with Mom. This is the one part of the affair that I remember. I was in my room playing with dolls or something. It was around five o'clock. Mom was with a friend, who I now know to be Logan Huntzberger, in her study. Mitchum Huntzberger is Logan's dad, who is big in the newspaper business, and supposedly they were negotiating with Rory to become a featured columnist. At least that was what they told Dad.
Dad came home early. It's the last time I remember him doing that, not that he did it much before, but it's the last time I remember him doing it. Coming home early proved to be something not good for Tristan Dugrey.
Before going to say hello to his wife, Dad came in my room.
He walked through the door and stepped softly on the carpet. My big blue eyes looked up at him. As usual he was dressed in a designer suit and looked pristine and ready to meet some important person. Though he looked approachable. He wasn't invincible. He was Dad. My dad and I was always the first one to say it. I was proud of him.
"How's my little princess?" he asked, looking down at me on the carpet, playing. He always called me that.
"Great. Today, Ellie got me a new a doll."
His strong arms picked me off the floor and placed me in his lap on the bed. "Did she?"
"Yeah. She's so pretty. She looks like me too," I pointed to the doll on the floor, "See
Daddy, she has brown hair and blue eyes like me."
"She is pretty, but she's not as beautiful as you."
I smiled and rubbed my face into his shoulder. He smelled like expensive cologne and whiskey. I loved the way he smelled.
"I love you, my little Mary."
Looking up at him I replied, "I love you too Daddy. You are the best daddy in the whole world." I held onto him tighter.
Now the next part I don't remember if I heard this or I imagined it, but I think he said, "I'm not as wonderful as you think I am. I never am."
For the next five minutes he just held me. His big, strong arms were encircled around me and he was Daddy. He made everything right and everything with him was wonderful. As a child, I think you tend to just see the good in your parents. You never see their faults. You never see the things they do wrong. You see them for the best people in the world and nothing less.
"Mary I'm going to see your mom okay?"
"Yeah."
Before taking me off his lap, he kissed me on the forehead and set me on the bed with my feet dangling. "What do you think about Disneyland?"
"Disneyland!"
"Yeah!" His eyes lit up at my enthusiasm. "Would you like to go?"
"You bet ya!"
"Okay kiddo. I'm going get Mom and see what she thinks about Disneyland."
"Cool!"
With my approval he went to go get Mom. Let's just say I never got to go to Disneyland.
The next thing I remember is hearing yelling and shouting.
"Don't tell me you were in there with HIM doing business! What I saw was not business, Rory! How could I be so stupid."
"Tristan, we weren't doing anything!"
"Really? Then how do you explain the messed up hair and buttoning going on, huh? I'm not that naive Rory. Believe me."
"Fine okay! I am sleeping with Logan. Is that what you want to hear Tristan? Is that what you want me to say?"
At this point I put my hands over my ears. I didn't understand what they were talking about, but all I knew was that they were fighting. They had never done it before that moment. Occasionally there would be arguments, but never the type of screaming fighting that I witnessed. This was the start of everything that would lead to divorce.
Shortly after the affair with Logan, we moved to New York. Dad got a promotion from Grandpa, but I think moving to New York City was a way to start over for Mom and Dad. They needed to get away from Hartford's social scene. Somehow everyone in Hartford had found out about what happened between Mrs. Dugrey and Mr. Huntzberger, also Mr. Dugrey's reaction to what took place. I don't know exactly how it happened, because I can be sure the only people that knew what was going on was Dad, Mom and Logan. I heard the confrontation, but the only other people that could have known about it were the maids in the house. I guess the help never really does stay silent.
Anyway we moved to New York. No longer did we live in the mansion that I had known to be home. We lived in the penthouse of a really big building on the Upper East Side. Definitely the nice part of New York City. I remember the big elevators and pressing all the buttons. Only Ellie, my nanny, would let me press all the buttons. Dad and Mom always told me to stop. They didn't have time to stop at all the floors I wanted to.