Authors Note: Thanks masamor99 and stjarna for your reviews. I love to read them – they make my day.

Chapter 6: The Window

If Richard thought our drive to the Inn was never-ending, I'm thinking it now. It seems as if we would never arrive at home. But is it still my home? Cause fact is I'm living in a hotel. But I said I wouldn't be there for the next days, so I decide to stay 'at home'.

"I'm not going back to the hotel tonight. I'll sleep at home."

"That's fine with me. I never said you should go."

No, but you didn't say I should stay either.

"I want you to sleep in the guest room."

There I said it – I want to sleep in my bedroom – I want him to move.

"Why?"

"Because this is my bedroom as much as it is yours."

"So?"

"You don't want us to spend the night together, after the things that happened today, do you? And it was all yours in the last weeks. Now it's your turn to move. And if you would be a gentleman we wouldn't even discuss this." I spit out to him.

"If it's that what you want."

"Yes it is. – Richard can't you drive faster? I have things to do tonight."

"I'm not allowed to drive faster. – What things?"

"That's none of your business."

I have to prepare for Europe. I have to get out of here as soon as possible – tomorrow at best. I have to get my passport and decent luggage. That's the things I have to do, but it's not your business. You don't care about us at all, that's why I don't need you anymore Richard Gilmore.

Finally, finally we're there. I'm out of the car before it even stands, storming into the house. I can hear Richard following me more slowly. Where's my passport, it must be here somewhere? I'm slamming my purse on the desk and search through my papers.

"You do realize you just leapt out of a moving vehicle."

"Everything cannot be on your schedule, Richard. Now, where is it? I know I put it in here.- Aha!"

I knew I put it in here. Now I only have to find some decent suitcases and then I'm out of here tomorrow. Richard is going on saying things to me I don't want to hear right now. Why couldn't he talk to me before?

"In all the years we've been together, I have never seen you behave as irrationally as -- Emily, I'm talking to you! Will you stop?"

No I won't – and why is everything in my way right now – even the palm tree? I have to find some good suitcases – for me and for Rory, cause I still hope that she will come with me.

"Emily, this feud of ours has now reached comical heights that… Charlie Chaplin, himself, would find hilarious, and he's dead."

"Don't follow me, Richard." I say – turning towards him.

As I said before this is none of your business anymore – you had your chance you didn't take it – now I'm not in the mood for this. Of course he is following me.

"Oh, wait, come back. Let me get you a cane and a derby."

As long as it is a joke for you Richard. No I certainly won't talk to you right now. I'm going downstairs. And he is still following me – why doesn't he get that I want to be alone – he should go to the guestroom and that's it. End of the evening.

"What are you doing?"

You won't stop this until I tell you, right? I'm tired of you, so I'll just spill it out now. Though if you would pay attention to me and my plans you should have figured it out by yourself until now.

"I'm looking for my European luggage, which some imbecile has chosen to hide from me."

"What do you need your European luggage for?"

And why is everyone playing dumb tonight? First Lorelai and now you. But I'll just explain it to you, as if you were a four year old.

"To put things in."

"You're making a mess."

"I don't care if I'm making a mess."

"Well, who's going to clean all this up, you?"

Oh my, why do you think we have a maid?

"Yes, me, or the maid, or perhaps Pennilyn Lott could come by after one of your clandestine luncheons and take a stab at it."

I know that was mean, but at the moment I don't care. I just want him to leave me alone.

"Oh, for heaven's sakes. Not that again. She's just a friend!"

Yes, I don't want to get into that again, either. All I want is leaving for Europe as soon as possible.

"I am going to Europe, Richard. I am going to Europe, and I'm going to have a marvellous time. I'm going to get up at 10:00, and I'm going to have two glasses of wine at lunch every single day."

I so don't care if this sounds childish.

"Only prostitutes have two glasses of wine at lunch."

How dare you, compare me to that kind of women? But I can play along.

"Well, then buy me a boa and drive me to Reno because I am open for business."

The look on his face satisfies me. I still have the ability to shock him.

"I -- I can't talk to you when you're like this. I'm going to bed."

"You go to bed. I'll go to France."

Finally I'm alone. And I have found a decent trunk. Yes, plenty of my clothes will fit in there. I hear piano music from upstairs. So he tries to calm down. Well now that he could help me with the trunk, he's gone. But as I said before, I don't need him. I'll drag it upstairs on my own. - When I try to open the door, it is stuck. That can't be true.

"Richard! Richard!"

I'm pounding on the door – but he's not responding. I wonder if he really doesn't hear me, or if he merely doesn't want to answer. I bet it's the last. And perhaps it's not even the door, but him – that he locked me in here on purpose.

"The door is stuck! Richard! This isn't funny!"

Whether this is true or not, fact is the door won't open. I descend the stairs again. I have to find another way out of here. To prove him, that I don't need his help. Ha, and there is the window. It's big enough for me to climb outside. I open it. But I'll give him one last chance.

"Richard? Richard!"

"Emily?"

"You locked me in."

"I did not lock you in."

And still I'm not sure about that.

"You certainly did lock me in."

"The door must be jammed. Did you try jiggling the knob?"

I'm not stupid of course I tried that.

"I suppose I could do that, or you could just get the hell down here and let me out!"

"Give me a moment, please."

Oh yes, this is very funny to you. Letting me wait and playing the hero when you'll graciously come to rescue me – when you're ready to do it. But that's not what's going to happen.

"If you don't come down here right now, I will climb out the window."

"You will not climb out the window."

"I will. I will climb out the window right now."

"Don't you dare."

Don't tell me what to do. I begin to climb out the window.

"I'm doing it. I'm climbing out the window."

"You better not climb out the window."

Oh yes, I'm doing it – Oh no my skirt catches on a nail.

"Damn it."

"Emily Gilmore, I better not catch you climbing out the window." he threatens.

Oh no, I hear him coming – and I am stuck here. I don't want him to find me in this position. I'm about to panic. What can I do – ah I'll just leave the skirt here – it's dark outside and noone is going to see me anyway. I unzip my skirt and climb out the window.

"I'm out the window. I'm out the window." I yell triumphantly.

"Get down from there."

"No!"

Puh – that was right on time, one more second and he would have caught me.

"Emily, get back here. Emily!"

Definitely not. So now I have to find a way to get back into the house. I pull my sweater a little longer to cover myself – I don't know why, nobody is going to see it anyway, but it's a weird feeling to be outside without having a skirt or a trouser on – I don't know when I did this the last time, probably never. I'm tiptoeing to the back door. Suddenly it opens and Richard scares the hell out of me. Damn it, how could I forget that he would come out here too, to find me?

"Are you having an aneurysm or something? Get inside and put this on."

"Get away from me!"

"Do you seriously think after 39 years of marriage, I would resort to locking you in a basement?"

"I don't know what you'd resort to. I don't know who you are at all."

There I said it – and it's the truth, I don't understand him anymore.

"I knew the mental illness in your family would catch up with you eventually."

And he's not even listening to me – that's why we can't talk about our problems. And now saying that my family is mentally ill – how dare he? (Yes I'm listening to him, I heard the insult.)

"Aunt Cora was not mentally ill! She was athletic!"

Suddenly I see light flashing - Oh Shit – the police is coming. I just can imagine how Petal Huffington is getting a kick out of this. I'm sure she called them. I've never liked her. I'm desperately trying to cover myself with my sweater. This is so embarrassing.

"Oh, fine." Richard mumbles.

"Is there some sort of problem here, folks?" the Officer asks us.

"No. There's no problem." Richard answers.

"We got a call from some of your neighbours complaining about a disturbance."

I knew it – I bet it was that odious Petal Huffington. This whole scene is so humiliating. I'm looking at my feet, wishing I could just disappear.

"We apologize. We're going inside right now." Richard says.

"Do not tell me what to do." I reply.

"Can I have your security password, please?"

"Look, it's getting late, so either shoot us or go away." Richard says.

"Fine. We'll just write up a report here and be on our way."

Oh no – a report, I can't believe this. How humiliating! I'm turning to Richard as the Officer is about to leave.

"Are you happy, Richard? Now there's a report, and a report means we'll be in the police blotter. Petal Huffington reads the police blotter religiously. It's like heroin to her. You've turned us into the scandal of the neighbourhood."

"Do you know what, Emily? If nothing else, this display tonight demonstrates clearly that you are no longer the woman I married."

I am no longer the woman you married? Are you serious about this? You should better think about yourself. And before I fully realize what I'm doing, I say to him, what I've thought for the last few weeks.

"The woman you married was your partner. You listened to her. You consulted with her. You respected her. So, you are right, Richard. I am definitely not the woman you married."

With that I'm going into the house. I honestly said it. So if he really hadn't realized why I left him, he just has to know it now. I mean what more can I do? Spell it out to him?

I'm going into my bedroom – our bedroom. I feel that I still love him, because deep in my heart I want him to come inside and talk to me. About what I just said to him. And I have a little hope that this is going to happen. He can't just ignore it, can he? I'm hearing the front door. So he's inside, too. Yes, it's true – I still have a little hope that we can make up right now. Perhaps we needed this fight to talk about our problems.

Against my will I appreciate that he handled the situation with the officer – I didn't say anything to them. That was always his role, to protect me - to protect us. Tonight he did it again.

If only he would come. What is he doing downstairs – it can't take this long to come upstairs, can it? But nothing happens. After 15 minutes I realize that he won't come. Why? Does he still not understand my problem? But then that can't be it. I said it to him - everything.

So I am not important to him anymore. That must be the point. I can see no other.

I have to fight hard against my tears. I'm failing at it. Slowly I begin to undress myself. I know this will be the last time I will sleep in our bed for a long time. I have to stop thinking about it.

If he is moving on I sure as hell will, too. The first thing tomorrow I'll call my travel agent to tell him that I need the next flight to Paris – and with the next flight I mean the next flight. I'll leave tomorrow. Hopefully with Rory.

Lorelai promised us a lunch with her and Rory at the Inn tomorrow. So I'll go there and ask her right away. And then I'm done with all of this for the next months. It will be so good to get out of here – and as I said before, maybe he'll miss me when I'm not around the corner. Do I really believe this? I don't know – I want to, but I know it's unrealistic.

A lonely tear is rolling down my cheek.

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