As usual, a million thanks to iheartbridges, superbeta (she can leap tall run-ons in a single bound!) and one of the smartest, coolest people around.
Also, a big thank you to sosmitten, PuffingNoise, Chickflick, and Dirty, for the clever suggestions and advice. This chapter is ten times better because of their help.
Part Four
Now That My Ladder's Gone
Lorelai stands staring at the big blue doors of the operating room for longer than she rationally knows she should. She feels rooted to the spot, and entertains the thought of just standing there until the surgery is done and he comes back through, healed and healthy.
But Rory is waiting for her down the hall.
When she gets to the small waiting room, she sees Rory sitting on an overstuffed grey sofa, putting the finishing touches on a spread of food and entertainment that Homer Simpson would have been proud of. In front of the sofa is a large coffee table, on which Rory has laid out an impressive array of junk food: chips, Cheetos, Hershey's kisses, Red Vines, and a couple of different kinds of Pepperidge Farm cookies. Amongst the junk food are stacks of fashion and entertainment magazines, and piled high beside the table is a tower of board games ranging from Scrabble to Cranium.
Lorelai's eyes widen at the sight. She feels her eyes sting, but quickly blinks any tears away. If she's going to cry at all today it's not going to be for something small. She thinks she might have to save her tears, ration them, for when she might have no choice in the matter.
She eases herself down beside Rory on the grey sofa. "Have I told you lately that you're my favorite daughter?"
Rory grins, folding her hands on her lap proudly. "So my junk food collecting skills are up to par?"
"Well, you did learn from the master," Lorelai concedes. "Seriously, hon, this is impressive."
Rory shrugs. "I thought we might need some survival food. You know, to keep up our strength."
"Of course. I bet if the Donner Party would've had Cheetos and Pepperidge Farm cookies things wouldn't have gotten so ugly."
"Do you think they could have survived on cookies alone?" Rory asks, reaching into one of the bags to pull out a cookie, and holding it up in front of her. "I'm not sure how much nutritional value is in these things. Cannibalism may have been inevitable."
"True," Lorelai concedes, taking a cookie for herself, grateful that her daughter is here to make her think of cookies and cannibals and all things non-cancer-related. "But think of how much happier they'd all have been if dark-chocolate-dipped Milanos had been involved."
"Milanos do make everything better."
"Including four hour stints in tiny waiting rooms?"
Rory nods, her face falling. "That was the plan," she says, her voice softer than before. Lorelai suddenly notices the slight redness rimming her daughter's eyes.
She reaches out to tuck a strand of Rory's shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "You okay, babe?"
"Oh, fine," she nods too quickly. "I'm fine. It was just kind of weird, you know, seeing him like that. But I'm fine." She tilts her head to the side and blinks slowly, her big blue eyes intensely focused on her mother. "Are you?"
"Am I what? Weird?" Lorelai dodges. "Most people would answer in the affirmative."
"Mom. Are you fine?"
"Yeah." She attempts a reassuring smile. "Yeah, sure."
"Nice try."
Lorelai sighs. "Okay, so maybe not so fine. I'm... worried. And freaked. But it's only four hours, right? And we have all these board games and magazines... it'll be over before we know it," she finished with forced optimism. "And, hey," she adds indignantly, "if I don't get to pretend to be fine, then you don't either."
Rory rolls her eyes, but nods, then hands Lorelai one of the bowls from the table. "Deal. Cookie?"
"Yes, please."
She pulls a cookie out of the bag and absently nibbles at it. Rory doesn't know how bad it is. They told her about the cancer yesterday after the appointment with the oncologist, but they didn't tell her that it may have spread to his lymph nodes. They didn't tell her that if it has, he has no chance at all. They had both agreed that there was no need to terrify her before they knew anything conclusive. Besides, Lorelai is terrified enough for the both of them.
"Mom?" Rory's concerned voice pulls her out of her thoughts.
"Yeah, sweets?"
"He's gonna be okay."
Lorelai purses her lips. "I know, Rory," she says, as guilt lodges itself in her chest. She hates lying to her daughter. They should have told her everything.
"So..." Rory breaks the silence, gesturing to her stack of board games. "What do you want to play first? I've got the requested Parcheesi; then the essentials: Scrabble, Pictionary, and Trivial Pursuit; and if we're feeling whimsical: Cranium and Scattergories. I just thought that, if we're going to play the waiting game, we might as well play an actual...you know... game." Rory pauses in her nervous diatribe to breathe. "Whadd'ya think?"
"I think there's one you forgot," Lorelai says.
"I did?" Rory's brow furrows. "Which one?"
Lorelai manages a small smirk. "Operation."
They get through one round of Pictionary before Lorelai gets fidgety and excuses herself to go get coffee simply because she can't stand to sit in that little room for another second. When she returns, she tries to read one of the novels she brought while Rory buries herself in a textbook, but finds herself reading the same sentence over and over and over. The waiting is making her feel like microwave popcorn just before it starts to pop– all restless and jittery, and she can't sit still, can't read her Vogue, can't even swallow any more coffee.
When Rory's cellphone rings and she leaves to take a call from Logan, Lorelai is almost relieved. She's immensely thankful that Rory is here, but she's finding the act of putting up a strong front particularly exhausting today.
In the sudden quiet of the waiting room, Lorelai finds herself remembering when her father collapsed and was rushed to this very same hospital. She'd sat in a chair much like this one, feeling a similar kind of anxious dread. The one big difference then was that she'd had Luke by her side. He'd sat with her and made her laugh and brought her coffee and let her cry on his shoulder.
Lorelai toes off her shoes and pulls her knees up to her chest, listening to the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears.
She remembers when her grandmother died, how she'd gone to Luke even though she'd been dating Jason at the time. After the funeral, Rory had gone back to school to finish a paper, and she'd driven straight to the diner.
Most of the lights had been off and the door was locked, but when she pressed up close to the door she could see him behind the counter, refilling ketchup bottles. She'd knocked softly and he'd opened his door to her.
"You're dressed up," he said when she stepped into the dimly lit diner. He smirked teasingly. "Big date or something?"
She smiled softly. "My grandmother died a few days ago. I was at her funeral."
Luke's face fell immediately. "Oh, God, Lorelai. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
She reached out to touch his forearm. His flannel shirt felt soft under her fingertips. "It's fine, Luke. Do you have any coffee?"
He nodded slowly, his eyes wide and heavy with sympathy. "I'll make a pot."
She'd slipped onto one of the stools at the counter, and he'd brewed her a pot of coffee with a bit of cinnamon in it, because he'd known it would make her feel better. Eventually, he'd joined her on the stools, and listened for over an hour as she talked about Trix, and her father, and her whole crazy family, and how she was now the reigning Lorelai, and wondered if that came with some sort of new responsibility. And he sat there, nodding, and chuckling when appropriate, and patting her knee, and was just exactly what she's always needed.
She'd been in love with him then, she realizes, thinking back. She doesn't know when her feelings for him shifted from friendship to something different, or if they'd just always been there. She only knows that when Luke had told her about Nicole's sock-man, the urge she'd had to throttle the woman had been fierce and primal in a way she'd never really felt before. It's kind of the same way she feels now, with the cancer– fiercely protective and ready to fight to the death to keep anything from hurting him. But the tumor on his kidney isn't something she knows how to fight.
Lorelai looks up with a start when she hears footsteps, not expecting Rory to be back so soon. But it's not Rory who walks into the room. It's Caroline Greenleigh, the young mother she'd met earlier in the admitting chairs. The woman looks beyond frazzled. Her blonde hair is falling out of her ponytail, her eyes are red and puffy, and her hands are clutching her purse and a worn-looking stuffed elephant to her stomach.
"Oh," Caroline says when she sees Lorelai sitting on the sofa. "Hi."
"Hey," Lorelai replies, straightening up on the sofa so that the woman can sit. "It's Caroline, right?"
Caroline nods, sitting down beside her. "And you're... Laura?"
"Lorelai."
"Right, sorry."
"No problem. Are you waiting too?"
Caroline nods again. "My Abby's having surgery down the hall. There's another waiting room there but... I just couldn't sit still, you know? I had to walk around. And the intern said that there was another waiting room over here, and so... here I am. Waiting."
"Well, you're welcome to wait with us. My daughter and I, that is. She's outside taking a phone call."
Caroline smiles a little. "You have a daughter? How old is she?"
Lorelai smiles. "Twenty. She's twenty."
Caroline's eyes suddenly fill with tears. "You're very lucky. I hope you know that." She reaches into her purse and pulls out a tissue, dabbing at the tears that are quickly falling down her cheeks.
Lorelai nods, feeling her chest constrict. "I do," she says softly, unsure how to comfort the woman. She picks up the bag of Milanos and offers it to her. "Would you like a cookie?" It seems like a stupid thing to say to a lady who's infant is in surgery, but Caroline actually nods.
"Thanks," she says, sniffling, and gingerly takes a bite. She smiles a little, reaching up to brush a few crumbs off her chin.
"Here," Lorelai says, rolling up the top of the bag and handing it to her. "Take them all. We've got plenty."
"Thank you, Lorelai," she says, and stands up, stuffing the bag of cookies into her purse. "I think I'd better head back now. My family's still waiting down the hall."
Lorelai nods. "I'll see you around, maybe."
"Yeah," Caroline says. "I'll be here for awhile." With a slight wave, she leaves.
"Hey, Caroline," Lorelai calls after her a beat later, and the young woman steps back into the room.
"Good luck," Lorelai says simply.
Caroline nods, holding the stuffed elephant closer to her chest. "You too."
A few minutes after Caroline leaves, Rory comes back into the little room, her cheeks slightly pink from the chilly wind outside.
When Rory sits down on the grey sofa beside her mother, Lorelai is quick to wrap her arms around her, hugging her tightly.
Rory smiles when Lorelai pulls away. "What was that for?"
Lorelai shrugs. "I'm just... glad you're here."
After nearly three hours of waiting, when Lorelai has looked at her watch over five hundred times and is ready to swear that time is moving backwards and not forwards, Emily Gilmore appears.
Lorelai and Rory are into a game of Scrabble, with Lorelai unable to concentrate and thus losing terribly, when Emily materializes in the doorway of the waiting room, her brow crinkled in distaste.
"This room is too tiny. Do they seriously expect people to be comfortable waiting for hours on end in a room the size of a matchbox? It's inhuman. You'd think with all that money your grandmother donated to this hospital, some of it could have been put to good use."
Lorelai could only stare for a moment, mouth agape. "Mom? What are you doing here?"
"Good morning, Lorelai, Rory," Emily nods to the girls, stepping into the room.
Lorelai shakes her head emphatically and rises from her seat on the sofa. "No, it's not. What are you doing here?"
"I've come to see about Luke, of course. Rory said his surgery is today. How is he?"
Lorelai looks at Rory, who's staring at her lap. "Rory? You told her?"
"I didn't think it was a secret or anything," Rory explains, looking sheepish. "I was worried, and she called, and it just sort of... slipped out."
"You have no right to be angry at Rory, Lorelai," Emily says sternly, her hands on her hips. "She did nothing wrong. I think I have a right to know when something this serious is happening in your lives."
Lorelai purses her lips, feeling rage bubble up in her chest. She hasn't spoken to her mother since the day Emily came into the diner to yell at Luke, and left after Lorelai told her to 'shut up' more forcefully than she'd ever said anything to her mother in her whole life. As far as Lorelai sees it, because of Emily, she and Luke were apart for four weeks. And now that Luke is sick, Lorelai would give anything to have that wasted time back.
Lorelai shakes her head slowly. After a sleepless night, and the constant thrum of frantic worry pulsing through her like a heartbeat, she simply does not have the energy to deal with her mother today. "No," she says, her voice low and steady. "No way. I can't do this with you right now."
"Do what? Lorelai, I only came to see if I could help in some way," she sets her purse on the corner of the coffee table and starts to shrug off her jacket. "Now, how is Luke?
"Are you kidding me!" Lorelai cries, her former calm evaporated.
"Lorelai," Emily admonishes, crossing her arms.
"No!" Lorelai holds up her hand. "You don't get to talk. You get to leave. You're not here to see how Luke is, you're here to gloat. This is exactly what you wanted!"
"Don't be ridiculous," Emily shakes her head, frowning deeply. "I'm not a monster."
"The hell you aren't!" Lorelai says bitterly, crossing her arms across her chest. Her fingers dig into the flesh of her upper arms, her nails sending sharp little twinges of pain up her arm.
"Lorelai," Emily reproves crossly. "Lower your voice, we're in a hospital."
"I know we're in a hospital, Mom," Lorelai says, her words slow, her voice icy and shaking with anger. "We're in a hospital because Luke has cancer. And there's a good chance that it's going to kill him."
Rory gasps softly at that, and Lorelai immediately feels bad. But anger is rippling under her skin, thumping behind her eyes, and she can't seem to stop the words that fly out of her mouth.
Emily sighs, any traces of anger draining from her face. "I'm sorry this is happening," she says softly.
"I don't believe you," Lorelai retorts coldly, uncrossing her arms. Her fists clench at her sides.
"Lorelai..."
The pressure, the waiting, and now Emily, is all too much. She needs so badly to lash out, to be angry at something, someone, to be able to fight something that she can see, that exists, that she can hold onto. She knows she's being unfair, but Lorelai can't stop herself. "You tried to break us up before. Well, you're getting exactly what you want. He could be out of my life, Mom. Permanently. And you didn't even have to lift a finger. You must be thrilled," she spits acid words like venom and fire.
She's so angry. At everything. At her mother, at the doctors, the hospital, the cancer, the universe. A white, hot kind of angry, like pain, like when she flat-ironed the top of her ear.
Emily's voice is strained when she speaks, in a way that Lorelai has only heard a handful of times in her life. "You can't possibly think I wished for this."
Don't cry, Lorelai wills herself when she feels her throat tightening. Not now. Not in front of her.
"Please go," she manages quietly.
To her surprise, Emily nods. "Fine. I'll be in the cafeteria."
Lorelai shakes her head. "Go home, Mother."
Emily purses her lips, turns on her heel, and leaves.
Lorelai stands there, stunned, for a moment. She covers her face with her hands, feeling the heat of her cheeks. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. When she feels more in control, she looks down at Rory. Her heart jumps into her throat when she realizes her daughter is crying silently, her slim shoulders shaking slightly. Lorelai eases down onto the sofa beside her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. "Oh, Rory, I'm sorry," she whispers, not quite trusting her voice.
Rory sniffles, and Lorelai reaches for a napkin, blotting at the tears streaking Rory's face. "It's really bad, isn't it?"
Lorelai nods. "It could be. We don't really know yet." She explains as well as she can what the oncologist told them yesterday. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you everything," she apologizes softly. "We just wanted to wait until we knew for sure."
Rory nods, fingering the buttons on her sweater. "It's happening really fast, isn't it? I mean, you only found out there could be something wrong a week ago, and now..."
"And now our lives have suddenly turned into a cheesy Lifetime movie. Only it's not so cheesy when it's actually happening."
"What are you going to do if it's bad news?" Rory suddenly asks. "Are you going to want to marry him before he... before..."
"Rory, stop." Lorelai shakes her head, shutting her eyes tightly. "Please, I can't talk about that right now."
"Sorry. That was stupid of me to say. I'm just... shocked, I guess."
"I know, honey. It's alright." She slips her hand into Rory's and squeezes. "Let's change the subject, okay? How's Logan?"
"He's fine. He wanted to know if he should come down here to wait with me."
Lorelai smiles. She doesn't like Logan. At all. But if he can offer to do something that sweet, maybe he isn't a complete nincompoop. "That was nice of him. What did you say?"
"Well, I thanked him, but I told him that this was something we Gilmores needed to do together. As a family, you know?"
Lorelai nods.
"And I think that's what Grandma was thinking too," Rory adds softly. "I think that's why she came."
"Rory, I don't want to talk about that either," Lorelai says. She reaches down and picks up the Parcheesi box. "Hey, let's play this one next."
Rory shakes her head. "You shouldn't have been so mean to her. She just wants to help."
"Right," Lorelai scoffs. "Emily Gilmore without a hidden agenda? Fat chance."
"Mom, you're not being fair to Grandma. I think she's really sorry for what happened at the vow renewal. I don't think she realized at the time how much Luke means to you."
"No, Rory, she knew exactly what she was doing," Lorelai says, her voice rising slightly. "She realized we were in a serious relationship and decided to sabotage it. I love Luke, and so she hates him." She purses her lips and takes a breath, trying to quell her growing anger. "It doesn't matter. It's not up to her."
"But, Mom, saying that she's glad he's sick?" Rory shakes her head. "That was pretty harsh."
Lorelai sighs. She crosses her legs and reaches down to finger the frayed hem of her jeans. Then she looks up and forces herself to meet her daughter's concerned eyes. "Yeah, babe," she says softly. "I know."
The surgery is supposed to take four hours. Lorelai checks her watch every few minutes, mentally drawing a big black 'x' through each new hour that passes as one she'll never have to live through again. When the four hour mark arrives and passes, Lorelai starts to feel cold. An odd sort of dampness creeps under her skin, and she can't quite stop shivering. At five hours, five minutes, she starts feeling nauseous. She tries to ignore it, but it crawls up her chest and makes her eyes water, her vision blur. She tells Rory she's going to the bathroom. As she runs through the empty, quiet hallway her heavy footfalls echo unnaturally loudly in the wide corridors.
She lowers herself to the ground beside the toilet, forgetting about icky bathroom floors and hospital germs. Her head is spinning. She presses the back of her hand against her mouth, willing the nausea away.
In the quiet of the tiny room, her mind wanders to the places she's been trying to avoid all day. Images of Luke mesh with the images of surgery she remembers seeing on various TLC shows. She sees Luke lying prone on a cold table, sees scalpels, sees gloved hands, sees blood.
"No..." the raspy whisper flies out of her mouth right before her stomach clenches painfully and she's gripping the sides of the toilet, vomiting forcefully.
When her stomach finally feels empty, Lorelai stands shakily. She goes to the sink, washes her hands, then cups them under the faucet, letting the cool water pool in her palms. She brings her hands to her lips and drinks slowly, then fills her palms again, this time splashing the water on her face. She looks up into the mirror above the sink. Her face is white, her eyes bloodshot, her lipstick worn off, and her mascara is smudged under her eyes. She tries to wipe away the blackness with her fingertips, and she can't get it all off, but it doesn't matter, because she can't find the energy to care.
She makes it out of the bathroom, but has to stop outside in the hall, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall to quell the dizziness in her head. She hears the clip of high heels on the hard floor coming towards her, and squeezes her eyes more tightly shut, hoping whoever it is will leave her alone.