Chapter Two
After Liz caught wind of Jess's return, she immediately phoned the diner, insisting her party be held that evening. She was surprised with Jess's quick agreement to attend, not realizing how eager he was to leave town. If all went well, he could drive back to New York that night.
Liz's house was small and quaint, the quintessential Stars Hollow home. It was painted a soft blue with white shudders and a matching picket fence. It reminded Jess of a black and white sitcom full of family ties and thirty-minute life lessons, like Donna Reed or Leave it to Beaver. It was so far from city life and the surroundings he was accustomed to seeing his mother in that he did a double take when she met him at the door.
He was used to a grungier looking Liz; in the past, she had sported ripped jeans and tight T-shirts with bedraggled hair. Her eyes had always been rimmed in red, bloodshot and dilated and very wide. Back then, he had viewed his mother through a filter of high expectations and piercing disappointment. But tonight was different. Tonight, she resembled a reserved housewife, dressed in pressed black pants and a wool sweater. Tonight, he had nothing to hope for.
"Jess! You came! I called and you came!" She pulled him into a hug and he patted her back, uncomfortable with the warm welcome. She punched Luke on the shoulder, and dragged him off to the kitchen, insisting that she needed help.
Jess ended up in the living room with TJ. The air buzzed with awkward tension, leaving both men stiff, fearful that any movement would attract unnecessary attention – or worse, eye contact. Jess hadn't seen TJ since Liz's wedding (a day he preferred to forget), and he had never really warmed to him as a person, let alone his new stepfather. TJ wasn't much more comfortable with the idea of having a grown stepson preprogrammed to hate every man in his mother's life.
Jess passed the time by exploring the living room from his seat on the couch. His eyes wandered across the walls where framed photographs hung in neat groups. Smaller photos were stuck in inexpensive collages, circles and squares of Jess, Luke, TJ, Liz. Jess had never had photos on the wall growing up. Back then, the past was the past, slipping away as soon as it happened. If he wanted to hold on to something, he had to remember it himself.
The sweet scent of a home cooked meal floated in from the kitchen. It was strangely unfamiliar. It wasn't as if Liz had never cooked for him, but it was also the matching furniture and the idea of family coming over for supper. Now, all grown up, he was seeing everything together, pieces that fit fluidly. It was simultaneous: dinner, family, furniture picked out beforehand, arranged with thought, moved again and again until everything was in its place. Jess was getting a glimpse of a genuine home, something he had missed out on. Liz was the real one now, while he was the one written out.
"So Jess, what time did you get here today?" Liz asked as she bounced out of the kitchen.
"Early."
"Uh huh, I see." Liz was grinning, ecstatic at her son's one-word answer. It had been too long since she had seen him. Their means of communication was the telephone, but most were missed calls.
"How's work?"
"It's fine." At Liz's eager stare, he continued. "I just finished that construction job at the elementary school."
"That's great! And you're still a messenger?"
"Still a messenger." For the past couple of years, his life had been made up of temporary part-time jobs. He was having trouble finding permanency in anything he did.
"And how's that girlfriend of yours? Um, Brit – no, that wasn't it. Bree – no…"
"Brynn?" Jess said.
"Yes! How's Brynn?" Liz grinned as if she had just won a prize.
"I couldn't tell you."
"Oh, Jess, don't tell me you two broke up."
Jess grimaced, surprisingly unhappy with the disappointment in his mother's voice. It was as if he couldn't do this thing, this one thing, to make her happy. "We went on two dates. The end."
"Why was it the end?"
"Should I begin with my issues or hers?"
Luke stuck his head into the living room. "I'm done making dinner. Should I eat it myself too?"
"Oh, Luke, come on. I was halfway finished when you came," Liz defended, trailing after her brother.
Jess heard Luke's muffled reply ("You had an empty pot on a stove!") as the door swung shut. He looked over at TJ.
"So we should…" TJ nodded.
"Yeah, sure, sure. Let's eat."
>
Liz barely touched her dinner. She was too preoccupied with staring at everyone else, making sure they were enjoying their meal. She kept asking if anyone needed anything, and would stand at a moment's notice, ready to grab extra napkins, another drink, a clean fork to replace the one dropped. Each man regarded her suspiciously but said nothing.
It was after the dishes were cleared away, and the leftover lasagna was shoved into the refrigerator that Liz clapped her hands, announcing that she had something very important to say. She herded the guys into the living room, sitting them on the couch. A hand splayed over her chest, she giggled.
"Now, it's true I wanted to see my Jess, and I love it when Luke joins us for dinner, but I do have an announcement."
"Divorce?" Jess whispered to Luke.
"You have an announcement?" TJ asked. "Should I know what this is? You told me, didn't you?"
"No, no, TJ, this is a surprise for you too. Are you ready?" She stared expectantly at the three men squeezed onto the too small couch. "I'm pregnant!"
>
The air vent was beneath the sofa, but Jess could still hear the faint tinkling of bells as the diner door opened. The voices were muffled, but Jess recognized the gruff tone of Luke and the softer sound of Lorelai. He turned onto his side and buried his face in the cushion. He wished he was in his car, on his way back to the city, instead of stuck on Luke's sofa for a night of tossing and turning.
He didn't know why he had stayed. The awkward silence after Liz's announcement had driven him to chain-smoking on her front porch, even though he had been trying so hard to quit for the past month. Halfway through his third cigarette, Luke had come outside, yanked him off the porch, and dragged him back to the diner. Somewhere in the shuffle, Jess had lost the words 'I'm leaving' and he had yet to find them.
"Another kid? It's crazy!" Luke yelled downstairs. "We'll get a watered down version of Jess, some sarcastic baby with an etch-a-sketch permanently attached to his hip!"
Jess held his breath, waiting for Lorelai's response, but she spoke too softly. He could hear her voice, but the words were shapeless, wisps of smoke caught in the vent.
Luke's rant began again and Jess stuffed a pillow over his head, desperate to fall asleep. He didn't want to hear everything Liz had done wrong with him, a long list that Luke was surely about to get into. Jess would prefer not to think about Liz's pregnancy at all. There was a stigma attached to the thought; it plagued him, until he was sick with it, the knowledge that in nine months Liz would have a baby and the phone calls would stop coming.
"In a few years, Liz will be knocking on my door, begging me to take the kid off her hands."
There was a pause, and Jess imagined Lorelai touching Luke's hand over the counter, a sweet smile shared, relief offered. Lorelai's voice was still too quiet, although Jess thought he heard the word "changed". He hoped he had misunderstood, that Lorelai hadn't suggested Liz had changed, that now it was different, she was different. How could Lorelai be so open to the idea that Liz could mature and become a better person, when she refused to change her opinion of him?
The anger rocked through his body. It left him terribly empty, like a lifelong hunger that can never be sated. His mind was so filled with thoughts of Liz and Rory and now Lorelai that he felt himself being pushed out.
Downstairs, he finally heard Lorelai speak; her voice loud and clashing with Luke's, "But is she happy?"
>
The next morning, Luke let Jess sleep and opened by himself. It was half past ten when Jess finally woke, and dressed out of his overnight bag. He had already decided that he was leaving tonight no matter what Luke asked – or ordered. It was a mistake to return; a mistake he didn't plan on repeating any time soon.
"Hey," Luke greeted as Jess emerged, pushing back the curtain. "Your mom called earlier."
"Huh."
Luke grimaced. That word was as good as a brick wall. "I didn't want to wake you, so I told her you would call back." He paused. Jess was fiddling with the salt shakers on an empty table. "When you were awake. Later."
"Yeah, sure." Luke nodded, and returned to the cash register to ring up a customer. "Hey," Jess called out. "You need help?"
"Yeah." Luke watched Jess grab a coffee pot and an ordering pad. "Thanks."
>
Rory came in a couple of hours later, armed with a massive textbook and a brand new highlighter. She settled at a table for two by the window, throwing her messenger bag in the opposite chair. She opened her book and flipped to the correct chapter, highlighter poised and at the ready.
Luke was nowhere in sight, so Jess took the initiative and poured a cup of coffee. He set it in front of Rory and she smiled.
"Mind reader?" she asked.
"Something like that."
He was on his way back to the counter when Rory jumped up. "Hey, Jess, wait."
He looked over his shoulder, startled. For a moment he thought that he had been right all along, that this was just a game. "Yeah?"
"I wanted to talk to you. I heard about your mom."
"Ah." He swung back around the counter and she took a seat in front of him.
"Congratulations."
"I'm not sure you're saying that to the right person."
"Sure I am." She smiled again, and he glanced at the kitchen door. He wanted Luke to make an appearance; he would save him from this conversation. "You know, I'm an only child too."
"Really." Only child, he thought. Close relationship with Lorelai. He remembered when she told him that she if she had to have a younger sibling, she wanted it to be a boy.
"A few months ago, my mom had a pregnancy scare. It was weird. For a little while, I thought I was going to have a little brother or sister." She skimmed the countertop, avoiding eye contact. To her, this was only their second conversation, and she was quickly closing in on 'too personal'.
"I just wanted to tell you that I know what it's like."
"What, what's like?" he asked.
"To think you're losing your mom to someone else."
"Excuse me?"
She tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, her confidence quickly disappearing. "I'm sorry, I know we just met, but my mom told me a little bit about you."
"What little bit?" he demanded. He couldn't imagine Lorelai sitting her down and filling her in unless Rory had asked in the first place. In fact, he painted Lorelai as the instigator in this whole situation. He could imagine the two of them huddled on the couch, writing up a pro and con list that would decide his fate. Lorelai would recite all the terrible things he had done, watching as Rory crossed out every redemptive trait he had.
"Your dad left when you were a baby." Rory blushed, embarrassed that she had so bluntly overstepped the boundaries of polite conversation. "You and your mom must have been pretty close," she continued, "and now to have this new baby on the way – "
"Sorry to disappoint you," Jess cut in, "but Liz and I were never exactly close."
"Oh, I just assumed…"
"Not everyone is as lucky to have a mother like yours."
She caught the sarcasm but tried to ignore it. "I'm just trying to help, Jess."
"By feeling sorry for me?"
"I'm not…" She sighed, flustered. "Are we having a fight?" she asked. "Because I wasn't trying to start a fight."
"Look," he snapped. "Stop trying to help. Don't dress something up that isn't even your business."
"I'm sorry." Rory backed away from the counter. "Next time, I'll just listen to my mom and stay away."
He watched her return to her table, trying to ignore how guilty he felt. Guilty! She was the one who was wrong. It wasn't his fault that she had no recollection of why he had every right to ignore her. It pained him though, knowing that if he had shut up and let her speak, she would have sat with him and tried to make him feel better. He didn't want her around, he didn't want her smiling and telling him things he already knew, but he still wondered what she would have said. During their relationship, they had so rarely discussed what they really felt or what they were really thinking that talking about something like this would have been such a change.
He used to think he and Rory had a deep relationship, one that went further than what she and Dean had. They were intimate on an emotional level, talking about books, movies, and music. They shared opinions, had honest debates. She told him what she wanted to do in the future, where she hoped to be, and he encouraged it. Now he could see that they had barely scratched the surface of things; none of their conversations had been real. In the big picture, it had meant nothing at all.
>
"Tell me how they did it."
Luke's head shot up, and the receipts fell from his hand. Jess picked them up and placed them in their proper piles.
"Did what?"
"Rory," Jess answered. "Do you know how they did it?" He had been thinking about it all day, since Rory had slipped out of the diner when he had his back turned. It drove him crazy that no matter how familiar her presence was, he was completely new to her. He had to know how it had been done; how he had been destroyed.
"Yeah, Lorelai told me. She was nervous about it, and she needed someone to talk to. She wanted to know if I thought it was safe."
Jess sat on a barstool, waiting for his uncle to continue.
"Rory went in for some interview. The doctor, he, uh, he recorded her explaining who she was, and who you were, and why she wanted it done."
Jess stared down at his hands. "Do you know what she said?"
"No, she went in alone." Luke paused, expecting another question from Jess, or at least some sign of anger or disgust. When there was none, he continued, "She had to gather up all her books and pictures and anything that reminded her of you. Then, they mapped out the memories in her head using everything she brought. They kept what she brought in. They destroy it, I guess."
A cold sweat overwhelmed Jess; the back of his T-shirt stuck to his skin. He already knew that he was gone, but it was hard to hear it. She had gathered him up and dropped him off at some sterile medical office where they had erased every trace of him. He wondered if it was hard for her, collecting up their past. Did the stack of books and concert tickets give her pause? Did she cry?
"She took these pills that knocked her out for the night. Then the, uh, doctor people make a house call, erase what needs erasing, and go. When she wakes up, it's done."
"It sounds easy," Jess said. "Quick."
"I guess that's their selling point."
Jess returned to his previous task of wiping down tables and stacking chairs. He paused at the table Rory had sat at earlier; she had left behind her textbook, and it had been pushed to the side, most likely by a careless patron. He wiped off the crumbs and set it on a nearby table.
"When did she do it?" It hadn't occurred to him until now to ask.
"I don't know the exact date," Luke answered. "It was a couple of days after your mother's wedding."
Jess grimaced. He no longer wondered what Rory had said to the doctor. She had probably gone the very next morning, desperate to get his pathetic plea out of her head.
"She had already looked it up," Luke added. "The company, Lacuna. I guess she'd been thinking about it, and suddenly, she decided it was time."
Jess slammed a chair onto a table, rocking it into the window. "She'd been thinking about it?" This was unbelievable. "For how long?"
"I don't know. Since you left the first time?" Luke's voice was void of accusation or contempt. It seemed he was merely offering an opinion.
"Well then, why didn't she do it sooner? Why the hell did it take her so long?" he demanded.
"I don't know," Luke said quietly. "I don't know what she was thinking."
If only she had done it before she left for Europe. Before her graduation. That final phone call never had to happen. His confession, months later, would have been kept bottled up; she would have smiled at him in the bookstore; he would have run and she wouldn't have given it a second thought. He wouldn't have gone to her dorm room and begged her to give him a second (third, fourth) chance. He would have known by then, what she had done.
Suddenly, it hit him full force. Since he had found out yesterday, he had been stuck in the present: her innocent smile, her friendly personality. He had been so preoccupied with the way she treated him now that he had generalized the past into one huge thing that she could no longer remember. But it was more than that. It was every little detail that he remembered and she couldn't. It was every date they had shared, every conversation they had had that was wiped away. Not only had she destroyed it for herself, but she had taken it away from him too.
"I want it done."
"Jess."
"I'm going back to New York tonight. I'll get it done tomorrow."
"Jess," Luke repeated. "You won't."
"Why not? What's the point of remembering?"
"Jess, you – " Luke sighed, uncomfortable with his position as the middle man. He couldn't decide whose side he was on, or if he even needed to choose. "You're stronger than that. People aren't meant to forget."
"You're not going to start spouting philosophical lessons, are ya Luke? Live and learn and all that bullshit?"
"I won't let you get it done."
Jess swooped forward, angry enough to let loose a yell or throw the cash register through the window. "If you and Lorelai broke up tomorrow, would you want to remember it? All those years of pining and bending over backwards for her? Of dating her and then losing her?" When Luke didn't reply right away, Jess plunged on. "You don't understand. Rory got rid of me. I don't exist."
"Jess, she's just one person."
"If she doesn't remember, if it's just me, then it's like none of it ever happened. It wasn't real."
"Jess – "
"I'm going back to New York. Tell Liz I'll call her when I get a chance." He didn't wait for Luke to nod or demand he stay. He fled upstairs, grabbed his overnight bag, and ripped the name of Rory's dorm and her number off the refrigerator. He wished Luke a hasty goodbye, and when his uncle turned around, he grabbed Rory's textbook and disappeared out the door.
>
"Nice hair," Logan remarked as he entered Rory's dorm. She rolled her eyes, and brushed a French braid off her shoulder.
"Paris did it."
"Paris?" Logan asked. "Your roommate Paris?" At Rory's nod, he frowned. "Paris Gellar?"
Rory grabbed his hand, tugging him onto the couch. "No, Paris Hilton." He wrapped his arms around waist and she leaned back against his chest.
"Were you two bonding?"
"I hope not. She said she had to practice."
"Practice?" Logan echoed. "For what?" He twisted a braid around his hand and tugged out the elastic.
"She's spending Thanksgiving with Doyle. And her ticket to impressing Doyle's family is pleasing his two little nieces. Apparently, her last run in with them over the summer didn't go so well."
"I wonder why," Logan deadpanned. Carefully, he began to unravel a braid, languidly curling her hair over his fingers.
"Paris said they're big on slumber parties, so she'll have to suck it up and do nails and other girly activities. And she insisted on practicing her French braiding skill on me because apparently, I'm the only person she's ever had a slumber party with."
Logan unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a laugh. He hid his face in her neck, but she felt the warm exhale of breath, the shake of his shoulders against her back.
"Don't laugh! I don't even remember this so-called slumber party." She shifted in his lap, riddled with thoughts about Paris's earlier slip. Paris had refused to elaborate, brushing it off as irrelevant to the current situation. "You'd think I remember having Paris sleep at my house."
He kissed the back of her neck, and pulled out the second elastic. "It doesn't sound forgettable."
"I keep thinking back to high school, but it's like there are all these holes." She sighed, frustrated with her inability to remember. "Some days are much clearer than others."
There was a knock at the door and Rory stood, quickly trying to unfurl her braids. "How weird does my hair look right now?"
"Define weird."
She glared playfully and went to answer the door.
"Jess?"
He held out her textbook, and she took it, gratefully. "You left it at the diner," he said.
"Oh." She smiled. "Thanks."
He wanted to ruin her pristine life. He wanted to tell her that they had dated, and that she had loved him, and no matter what she did, she couldn't change that. He had no proof, but he only had to tell her to ask her mother or Luke or anyone else in that goddamn Norman Rockwell town and that would be enough.
But she was smiling at him again, and he had always liked her smile, especially now when he had thought he would never see it again. In their months apart, he had imagined what it would be like to run into her again, and when he thought about it realistically, she never smiled.
Logan appeared behind her. Jess was surprised, but then he wasn't. In the back of his mind, the parts that weren't occupied by her betrayal or Liz's insanity, he had known there had to be somebody else.
"Oh, Jess, this is my boyfriend, Logan. Logan, this is Luke's nephew, Jess." They shook hands, each one sizing the other up. Jess decided he didn't care. Logan decided he wasn't a threat. Both were lying.
"Thanks again for bringing this, Jess. I really appreciate it."
"It's no big deal. I'm on my way back to New York."
"Oh." She frowned. He thought maybe she looked a little sad. "You're going back."
"Yeah, I've got work tomorrow."
"You know, I'll be in New York next week. I have an interview for an internship. Maybe I'll see you."
Jess took another look at Logan and clenched his fists behind his back. "It's a big city. I doubt it."