Chapter Three

Hands shoved deep in his pocket, he shivered. His breath was white air in front of his face. Yesterday had been bearable, but today, on his day off, the wind had teeth, and the cold snaked its way inside his leather jacket. Still, he couldn't make himself go inside.

For the past forty-eight hours, Jess had thought of nothing but this. It was the easy way out; the cure for all his problems. With Rory gone, life would seem easier, less hard or less painful – less something. He didn't know what it would change exactly, but he knew that the change was something he needed. He thought he needed it. He had to try.

This wasn't a guarantee. He wasn't about to hand his mind over to an unknown doctor like it was just some routine check-up. But he had to see the office, he had to ask questions. He had to know. He double checked the pink card Luke had showed him, and he had later pocketed. The address remained the same. He had the right building.

With one last reading (Rory Gilmore has had Jess Mariano erased – ) and the final decision not to make any final decisions, he went inside.

The stairwell was mute, the walls bland with the color of Band-Aids. The paint was caked together in certain spots where glue had been left and holes weren't filled. When Jess grasped the banister, it shook and fell out of the wall. He had to scramble to catch it before it hit the ground. Slamming it back in place, he wondered how a cheap place like this received any customers at all.

At the top, the door had no sign. It appeared that at one time the foamy glass held lettering, but now, all that was left was the bottom of what could have been a C.

Inside, eight pairs of eyes fell on him and he immediately halted. He had stumbled into a land of pink and blue, and stenciled storks with packaged babies held between their beaks. There were four couples sitting in the waiting room, and every female was pregnant. Very pregnant. Jess flexed his hands, wiping his palms on his jeans. The cold outside had been forgotten.

He went to the front desk, ignoring the stares. He knew he looked out of place among the Parenting and American Baby magazines, artfully spread in an arc on the coffee table. The woman behind the desk looked up and smiled.

"Is there an upstairs?" Jess immediately asked.

"Why yes there is." The woman was impossibly cheerful as well as Southern, judging by the melodic lilt to her voice. "But there's nothing up there but boxes and cobwebs. Although Mrs. Weber is thinking of expanding and organizing some rooms up there."

He was in the wrong place. He had to be in the wrong place. "Is this 610 11th Avenue?"

"Yes, siree. Aw, sweetie, are you here to pick up your wife?"

"No, I – "

"Girlfriend? Sister?" With each shake of Jess's head, her frown line grew deeper. "Your… 'platonic friend who just happens to be in the family way'?" she air quoted.

"No, I'm looking for the Lacuna office."

"Lacuna." The woman tapped a pen against the desk before resting the tip on her bottom lip. "Lacuna. Right, I believe that's the office that used to occupy this building."

Jess blinked. "Used to?"

"Yes, it was owned by a Doctor Howard Mierzwiak, but it closed at the end of February."

"Do you know why?"

"A girl who worked there swiped all the doctor's personal files. She caused quite a stir, and the doc decided to close shop." She shrugged. "I don't even know what kind of doctor he was."

Jess nodded, unable to choke out a thank you. He whipped around and was out of the office so fast that he didn't even remember making the trip downstairs. His mind and body weren't reunited until he was halfway back to his apartment, and the cold caught up with him.

"Shit," he mumbled. "Shit!"

He hadn't been sure if he was going to have the procedure done. The night before as he lay awake in bed, he seriously doubted he would. Luke's words had stayed with him, and he had taken them to heart. People weren't meant to forget – he believed that. But now that the option was gone and he was resigned to a fate of remembering everything she couldn't, all he wanted was to forget.

His memory was too great, too specific, and he wasn't sure how to live with the knowledge. There were so many things in his head that he wished he could get rid of, but he sucked it up and he remembered and he dealt with it. Why couldn't she?

His cell phone rang and he ripped it out of his pocket. The caller ID read Luke Danes. Jess sighed and snapped it open.

"What?"

"Jess!" the voice on the other end exclaimed.

"Liz?"

"I knew it!" she yelled. "I knew you were screening your calls."

"I am not screening my calls," Jess assured her.

"You were. I called twelve times in the past two days and you didn't pick up once. Now Luke? The world stops for him. You always pick up."

He bit back a sigh, knowing she was right. Avoidance was necessary, but he wasn't sure why. What would ignoring her change? "I wasn't screening my calls," he repeated, letting himself into his apartment building.

"Fine."

He picked up on the abruptness, and knew she was mad. It wasn't often that she showed her anger. Over the past couple of years, she had been so relieved to once again have a relationship with him that she preferred to avoid confrontation. If she was disappointed or upset, she didn't call. It was as easy as that.

"I wish you would come down again," she said. "I want to celebrate my news. That's why I asked you in the first place."

It was warmer inside. The heat slid beneath his jacket, replacing the cold air with something softer. By the time he reached his apartment door, the cold seemed too foggy and distant to be real. "I'll have to check my work schedule. Maybe I can get time off this weekend."

"Friday?" she asked, hopeful.

"I'll try."

"And if I call you later, you'll pick up?" she said, hopeful.

He pursed his lips together, feeling guilty. "I'll even call you Mom."

He heard the intake of breath over the phone. "Wow, that word mom… I'm going to be a mom."

"For the very first time," he interjected.

She sighed, hurtling from emotional to irritated in a microsecond. "I meant all over again. You know I'm your mother. Nothing's going to change that."

"Would a DNA test?"

"Very funny. Would you like to talk to TJ?"

Jess nearly laughed. What would he and TJ talk about? The war in Iraq? The Bush administration? The latest half-hour comedy on Friday night TV?

"Actually, can I talk to Luke? Maybe TJ and I can catch up later."

"Sure, I'll get him." She paused and called for her brother. He heard the clatter of dishes and the muffled grunt of Luke demanding to know what Jess wanted. "I love you, sweetie."

"Yeah, you too." The phone switched hands. "Luke?"

"Two words: Lunch. Rush."

Jess bent his head, trapping his cell phone between his ear and shoulder as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pink card. "Throw a dish rag at Liz. She'll know what to do."

"Jess…"

"Alright, just a quick question." He stared at the card. He didn't reread as much as recite the words in his head. They had been memorized by now, ingrained after looking at it so many times. Rory Gilmore, it said. Rory Gilmore has had Jess Mariano erased. He crumpled up the card and threw it in the direction of his bedroom. "Did Rory go for her interview yet?"

Luke frowned. "How did you know about that?"

"She mentioned it."

"When? When in all the time you two spent together shaking hands, did she mention it?"

"She just did, alright?" Jess was becoming frustrated. Somehow, he was the one getting chewed out even though he had done nothing wrong. "Did she have it?"

Luke relented. "No, it's this Thursday."

"What time?"

"Jess, I'm not telling you what time."

"Then where is it?"

Luke went inside the kitchen, deciding this conversation should be done in private. He felt like yelling, although he wasn't sure at whom. If he did though, he didn't want half the town bearing witness.

"You want an escort there too? A limo to drive you up?"

"Now, Luke, don't you think a limo is a little extreme? A towncar, on the other hand…"

"Jess!"

"Look, I just want to know. She's going to be in New York, and – " He stopped. The idea of seeing her had suddenly come to him when Liz called. The idea may have been forming since he found out Lacuna no longer existed, but he didn't know why. On the surface, seeing her seemed impossibly painful, something he should avoid at all costs. But here he was, ready to get in a fight with Luke, just to get a time and place.

"And what? You want to know where she'll be so you can avoid her?" Luke shook his head. "Because I doubt that."

"I want to see her."

"What? Why?"

Why? That was the question of the year. "What harm is it going to do?" Jess asked. "It's not like it's going to upset her."

"She has a boyfriend," Luke said quietly. "It's serious."

Jess sank onto the couch. Any energy left over from his earlier trip had been lost somewhere between the stairs and this moment. It had leaked out, his body a sieve.

"I know. This isn't about anything like that."

Jess expected Luke to ask what it was about. He was supposed to demand an explanation, holding the information hostage until he understood. Instead Luke just sighed and said, "Fine."

>

Rory Gilmore was happy. Her interview was over, and it had gone well. She had never minded interviews as long as she was prepared. In one, she had to talk about herself – a subject she was quite familiar with – while displaying her knowledge of the company or person of choice. She was always well-researched and with enough concentration, she could avoid rambling and play at well-spoken. Interviews were a breeze; it was afterward that was hard. She had to wait for an answer.

She rounded the corner of the news building, but halted as soon as she spotted Jess a few feet away. "Jess?"

"Hey," he said. "Coffee?"

She regarded him suspiciously, her brow knit in confusion. "You really should open up a business," she said.

"Selling coffee?"

"Mind-reading." She smiled and took the proffered cup. "Not only did you know I wanted coffee from miles away, but you also knew exactly where I'd be and when."

Jess shrugged. "It's a gift."

She took a sip, grateful for the liquid warmth. She had dressed in her best today, which unfortunately included a business skirt and a thin pinstripe jacket to match. Goosebumps had formed the instant she stepped outside.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked.

He shrugged again, a gesture she was beginning to find annoying. It was flippant as if he had dozens of other things he could be doing. "I was just… passing through."

"Hmm." She gulped down half her cup, and he watched, amused. "So I have a few hours to kill before Logan finishes class and meets me for dinner."

"Was that an invitation or a statement of fact?"

"Both." Her eyes were shining over the coffee cup. He gestured for them to begin walking, and she fell in step beside him.

"Want me to take you around? Show you the sights?" he offered.

"I've been to New York before. I think I've seen all the tourist-y stuff." She leaned a bit closer, her voice lowered in a conspiratorial whisper. "But I've never been here with a native before."

He ignored the pain, the memories that bubbled up at the mention. "So I can show you around as long as I don't take you to the Empire State Building?"

"Especially not the Empire State Building. I've been there three times, and every time I was almost arrested." She threw her empty cup in an outside trash can as they passed a McDonalds. "They probably have a picture of me posted. 'Please refuse this girl entry,'" she recited, "'she associates with unsavory characters.'"

"Ah, now that's definitely you. I bet you're a biker babe."

She touched him lightly on the elbow, indicating his leather jacket. "Only on the weekends. Now before we go anywhere, I have to change." She lifted her briefcase and shook it. "Real professional right? I have a change of clothes in here, plus one pair of comfortable shoes."

"We can go back to my apartment," he suggested. "You can change without having to enter a less than hygienic public bathroom."

He wasn't facing her, but he picked up on the change. "I don't mind public bathrooms. I have to balance on my toes and contort into different positions to keep from touching the walls. It's good for flexibility."

"My apartment's not too far from here. And I need to grab some more cash anyway."

She bit her lip, considering her options. It wasn't that she was nervous around Jess. It was strange actually how comfortable she felt around him – as if he was a long lost friend she hadn't seen in years. The familiarity was there, she just had to get used to his presence again. But he was someone she didn't know well, so by principle, shouldn't she avoid following him to his apartment?

"It' just… Jess, I barely know you."

"Well, don't I look trustworthy?"

For a split second, he saw it – the déjà vu, the longing, the memory. It was like he could feel her remember, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't some screwed-up kind of projection; he may have been forcing the familiarity on her. But no matter what was true and what wasn't, the idea hit him then: seeing her today was more than just saying hey and being close. He wanted to remind her of everything they lost. And now, he had a plan.

"You don't," she said. "I think it's the leather jacket."

"It's three blocks," he said and waited.

"Okay." She handed him the briefcase. "But you get to carry this. And if my feet start to bleed, you get to carry me."

He almost laughed, but somehow held it in.

>

His apartment was tiny and often mistaken for neat, but really, he didn't own enough to clutter it up. There was a bedroom, bathroom, and one large room that qualified as a living room slash kitchen. No personal effects lined the walls or available surfaces; Jess preferred to keep things simple.

"Nice place," Rory said.

"Do you want a soda or anything?" he offered.

She looked over at the refrigerator, and then at Jess. "No thanks."

He gestured to his bedroom. "You can change in there."

"Oh yeah. Thanks." She closed the door behind her, but it didn't stick. She didn't notice as she dropped the briefcase on the bed and snapped it open. Jess, on the other hand, could see nothing but the thin space between the frame and the door.

He approached slowly, listening as she kicked off her shoes, the black heels making identical thumps against the hardwood floor. He rested his fingertips on the door, knowing that if he exerted just a little pressure, the door would inch open and he would see her changing.

A flash of color and skin whirled by the small opening and he stepped back. He fought the urge to burst inside and pull her in, kiss her neck as he removed her jacket. He thought of the freckle on the inside of her thigh and he longed to touch her there, just to remember how it felt. A hundred years ago, when they had dated, she had felt daring and told him about the freckle, lying on her bed to show him. He could see her shy smile as she lifted her skirt a couple of inches to reveal the small mark. He had kissed her there, and she had blushed, smoothing her skirt down quickly.

"I'm almost done!"

Her voice tore him from the reverie and he twisted around, trying to get away from the door. He nearly fell in his haste to get away, half-tripping over to the refrigerator. It wasn't until he had a can of soda in his hand that he realized he couldn't escape this and he couldn't escape her.

In the bedroom, Rory sat on Jess's bed, putting on her shoes. When she was finished, she stood and spotted the bookcase, smiling at the sight of so many books. While she didn't read much anymore, she still appreciated the sight, especially finding it belonged to a person like Jess. He didn't seem the reading type, but then she remembered his question when she had first met him. He had her pegged as the bookworm she used to be.

She ran her fingers along the spines of hardcovers and paperbacks, until she paused at Atonement by Ian McEwan. Paris had been reading it last month and had lent it to Rory, suggesting she branch out past school textbooks. Rory had yet to pick it up. She decided to rectify that now and pulled the novel out. She opened it, and flipped through the pages, stopping when she saw writing in the margins. She recognized the male handwriting and grinned. It was rather endearing that Jess made notes; she decided she would have to bring it up later.

On another page, the handwriting shifted. It was small script and would have been neat if it hadn't been forced in a corner, squeezed between the bottom paragraph and the page number.

Happy now? I've defiled a book just to make you happy. Don't say I never did anything for you.

It was girlish handwriting and reminded Rory of her own. She stared and stared, suddenly uncomfortable being in this room, in this apartment. Something faint tugged at her mind, but she couldn't get a solid grip on whatever it was.

"Rory?"

She dropped the book and looked toward the door. "I'm coming," she called back. "Sorry." The last word was said quietly, more for herself than for his benefit. She grabbed the book from the floor and saw a crumpled pink card a foot away. She grabbed it with her free hand and set the book back in its place with the other.

"Hey." He knocked on the door. "Are you hungry?"

Without thinking, she threw the pink card into her purse and slung it over her shoulder. "Yeah. I could go for some food right now." She opened the door, finding him on the other side, standing too close.

"Good," he said. "I know a place."