Chapter Five

Dinner was quiet despite Liz's numerous attempts to jumpstart a conversation. She touched on everything from the diner and the option of franchising (Luke couldn't stop kicking himself for mentioning Richard Gilmore's inane idea) to Jess's most recent construction project on a brand new restaurant in New York. Both topics fizzled out quickly as both men declined to say much. Liz refused to give up though. They were going to have a happy family conversation even if it killed them.

"How was everyone's week?" Liz pressed.

The response was a shuffling of feet and shrugging of shoulders as all three men muttered something about "okay" or "fine" or "Kirk insanity".

"Well, I had a good week too," Liz continued. "I've taken up scrapbooking."

Jess and Luke choked simultaneously, hands covering their mouths, fists beating their chests. TJ jumped up and attempted to give Luke the Heimlich before Luke swallowed and threatened violence if TJ so much as touched him.

"I'm so glad you two are happy I've found a hobby," Liz sulked.

"I'm sorry, I thought an afternoon with the bong was your idea of a hobby," Jess said.

"You know I gave that up years ago!" Liz crossed her arms, indignant at her family's reaction. "I thought it would be fun to do. Especially once my lying in period begins, I'll need something to keep me from losing my mind."

"And taking it out on me," TJ added.

"Lying in?" Luke asked.

"We picked it up from the Renaissance fairs," Liz explained. "If you had the money to do it, you spent the last few weeks of pregnancy in bed."

Jess and Luke shared a look. "You do know it's the twenty-first century?" Jess asked.

"Oh god, please tell me you didn't hire a midwife." Luke was already rubbing his forehead from the forthcoming headache. "You're going to a hospital to deliver that kid!"

"Of course we are!" Liz took another bite of her dinner, rubbing her stomach as she swallowed. "I want only the best for my baby. That's where the scrapbooking comes in. I want this kid to have a baby book – first smile, first laugh, first step. Damn it, the first time I change his diaper is going down in that book! I'm going to do things right this time."

"'Do things right?'" Jess echoed. "So this time, you're not going to smoke or drink?"

"Hey!" Liz jammed a finger in his direction. "I did not smoke or drink when I was pregnant with you."

"Sure."

"I didn't!" If she hadn't been upset before, she certainly was now. "As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I threw out my cigarettes and made Jimmy pour all the alcohol down the drain."

"Is this before or after you locked yourself in the bathroom, threatening to overdose on sleeping pills?" Jess asked, his voice stiff.

"I did no such thing!" Liz stamped her foot beneath the table. "Did Jimmy tell you that?"

"Never mind," Jess snapped. "Luke, can you pass the meat?"

Liz stared at her son as he slid a few slices onto his plate. "I didn't!" she repeated.

Jess grabbed the nearby gravy boat and poured a generous amount over his food. When he began to eat in silence, Liz touched her stomach again, discreetly, her hand hidden beneath the tablecloth.

"I've signed up for a yoga class at Miss Patty's." She forced a smile. "I've heard it's a good form of exercise during pregnancy as long as you're careful. Do you think Lorelai would like to join me?" Luke froze mid sip, his cup poised on his lips. "I'm sure she could use a de-stressor after those long days at the inn."

"I…" Luke took a long gulp from his beer. The pause provided no help; no one changed the subject and Liz drummed her fingers, waiting for a response. "I don't know." Luke couldn't outright refuse his sister, not without a solid reason. Somehow, he doubted 'I don't want you hanging around Lorelai and telling her embarrassing stories from my youth' was good enough. It would probably only encourage her and worsen the situation. "I guess you should ask her."

"Okay, I will. Maybe she'll want to come swimming with me too. I signed up at the Y in the next town over. Swimming is one of the most beneficial exercises during pregnancy. Did you know that?" The question was general, directed to the whole table.

Jess shook his head. "I didn't. Wow. You've really been reading up on this."

Liz either missed the sarcasm or chose to ignore it. "I've bought a couple of books." She stood and began to gather the dishes. "I want the best for my boy!"

Jess felt a tug at the base of his spine. It was subtle, but it hurt like skin pulled tight against the bone. He headed for the kitchen, his empty plate in hand.

"How do you know it's a boy?" Luke asked from the doorway. Liz was only a couple of months along. The baby was a small bump, unnoticeable unless her shirt was pulled taut against her stomach.

"Well, there's this old wives' tale that I tried. All I had to do was pee in a cup, and – "

Luke held up a hand. "Stop. I trust you. I'm sure it's a boy."

"Relax, Luke," TJ said as he passed him, a pot in each hand. "She didn't drink it or anything."

"Any names in mind?" Luke asked, changing the subject.

"I thought it would be nice to name the baby after dad," Liz said. She was elbow deep in dirty dishwater, scrubbing away at the dinner plates. Jess thought she looked comfortable in her position – natural even. The tug worsened; he felt it at the back of his throat. "TJ wants a TJ junior."

Jess scoffed but Luke said nothing. Jess took that as silent agreement.

"Actually, I thought it'd be nice if we named him after Jess," TJ said.

This time, Liz let out a small chuckle, but she didn't have the heart to explain the situation to TJ.

"After Jess," Luke repeated. "After Jess?" He said it slower this time, uncomprehending. "Then you'd have two sons named Jess."

"I thought Jess would appreciate it," TJ said. "I thought he'd be honored. You would be honored, wouldn't you, Jess?"

"I'd rather jump through a plate glass window," Jess deadpanned.

"Aw, come on, Jess." Liz flicked the soapy water at her son. "Just play along."

"Are we done here? I need to get back to New York."

"New York?" Liz echoed. She shut off the water and wiped her hands on a nearby towel. "I thought you were spending the night."

"Nope. Can't."

"Come on, Jess. I'll make up the baby's room for you."

"I can't," he said again. He offered no reason why.

"But I was hoping you'd stay and watch a movie with us tonight. Then tomorrow morning, we could eat breakfast together. Like a real family."

"Oh geez." Jess waved a dismissing hand in his mother's direction before stalking off into the living room to retrieve his jacket.

"Jess!" Liz called. She went after him. "Are you leaving?"

"I just told you I couldn't stay the night," Jess replied, tugging on his jacket.

"Jess, you don't have to go yet. What about dessert? I made brownies."

"You mean you picked brownies up from the grocery store."

"No, I mean I made brownies this afternoon because I know you love them." She gestured to the kitchen. "Come on. Brownies and milk? Like when you were a kid."

"Stop doing that," Jess warned. "Stop this little kid, real family bullshit."

Liz was taken aback. Her hand flew to her chest, over her heart. "What? Jess, I just – "

"You're having a son, congratulations. You get to have a real family, the whole package. I'm real happy for you." He buried his hands in his pockets, searching for a cigarette. Of course, he didn't have them. He had purposely left them in the car knowing he couldn't smoke around Liz.

"Jess." Her voice was softer now, and she tried to touch his arm, but he jerked away. "I'm so sorry if I – "

"I don't want to talk about this."

"That's too bad because we're going to talk! I want you to tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong!"

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a real family growing up. I'm so sorry for that."

He didn't know how to form the words, the right way to explain this. He was like a guinea pig for the family dynamic. She had done everything wrong with him, but now she knew how to do it right. "Whatever."

"Jess, I wish I could turn back time and make it better. I wish I had been ready for a kid, I wish Jimmy had stayed. You deserved so much better."

"It doesn't matter now," he muttered. "It's done."

"I want you to be happy," Liz said. "And I want you to be a part of this family."

He didn't hate his mother – he couldn't. But the anger left over from his childhood still lingered, prodding him in moments like this. He wanted to yell at her for sending him away back in high school, for not being there and for not trying, for resenting him for merely existing – something he never asked for.

She finally had a family she could love and nurture – a family she was ready for. And he couldn't stand the thought of it.

"My life is in New York," he said simply.

He bolted before she could reply or stop him. He hit the cold November air and inhaled sharply, wishing he hadn't left his car back at Luke's, wishing he didn't have to walk or think or care. He felt his hands shaking violently, shuddering against the cold and everything else, but when he held them up, they were still. The motion was internal, he realized, a shifting of bone and tissue. He wondered if this was a telltale sign of spontaneous combustion, a warning his body would soon turn to dust.

As he approached the diner, he noticed a figure on the outside stoop in front of the door. At first he couldn't tell who it was, but after she picked up her head revealing pale skin and dark hair, the realization was instant. He wanted to run, fast, in the opposite direction. But his car was on the other side of Luke's, and he had to pass her in order to get to it. There was nowhere else to go – no place in Stars Hollow he was willing to hide – so he continued on, knowing he had to face her.

"Hey!" She stood when she saw him.

"Hey." He wanted to walk on, cutting off any chance for further conversation, but something held him there. She was using that smile again, and he was struck with the ridiculous thought that maybe she had been waiting for him. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Ah, you don't know about the Friday Night dinners. I just came back from my grandparents, and now need to drown my sorrows in coffee."

"Bad night?" Why did he ask? Why was he inviting her to tell him what was bothering her?

"You could say that. My plan was to come into Luke's, order a cup of coffee, and complain to the person closest to me, but when I got here, it was closed." She pursed her lips and leaned closer. "However, now that you're here…"

"Rory, would you like to come in, sit down, and have a cup of coffee?"

"Jess," she said sweetly, "that is so nice of you to ask."

Jess grabbed the key from its hiding place and stuck it into the door. Rory let out a small shriek of surprise. "That's where Luke keeps his spare key?"

"Yup."

"That's where Luke has always kept his key?"

"Yup." Jess led the way inside, closing the door behind her.

"So many missed opportunities. So many nights, my mom and I could have snuck in here… so many wasted pieces of pie, so many uneaten donuts…"

Jess started a pot of coffee and resumed his usual position behind the counter. Rory sat in front of him. "I told you my birthday was next week, right?"

He nodded, wondering if this was another attempt to invite him.

"My plan was to have my usual party here. I may be turning twenty-one, but there's nothing like a nonalcoholic party in Stars Hollow with a pink boa wrapped around your neck and a cake with your face on it."

"Of course."

"My grandmother decided that it must be a big celebration and she rented the Aqua Turf Club. I don't know if you've heard of this place, but it's meant for wedding receptions and high school proms. They can have four parties going on at once. And my grandmother rented out the entire place! They're going to store my gifts in the bridal suite!"

"Wow." He wasn't that surprised. Emily Gilmore was known for big stunts.

"I tried to explain to my grandmother that it was unnecessary, but it didn't work out so well. Now, the word 'ungrateful' was never used, but…" She shrugged. "I felt awful afterwards. My grandmother always makes something small into something monumentally huge."

"So you're complaining that your grandmother is throwing you a birthday party?" Jess asked.

That seemed to cut Rory's ramble short. "Well, not exactly…"

"Then what are you complaining about? Because it sounds like your grandmother is just trying to make your twenty-first birthday memorable." He didn't want to side with Emily, but after the fight he just had with his mother, it seemed ridiculous that Rory was complaining about a grandmother who wanted nothing more than an active part in her life. Rory didn't have to worry about disappearing; there were too many people who cared about her.

"You're not doing this right," she pouted. "You don't understand the post Friday night dinner coffee hour."

"Why isn't your mom here?"

"I told her I was going to wait here, and she told me I better make sure I was gone for at least an hour. I think she's home wrapping gifts."

"Right." Jess pulled out a mug and set it in front of her. "Presents. Because she can't do that while you're away at school."

She laughed. "My mother doesn't do logical or practical."

He poured her a cup of coffee, and she immediately took a long gulp. He couldn't help but be reminded by earlier times. He imagined her backpack on the floor, leaning against the stool, her legs crossed beneath her Chilton skirt, her smile as she leaned in for a goodbye kiss.

"Have you read anything yet?" he asked. Did I make an impact, he wanted to know. Did I make you want to remember?

"I started The Crimson Petal and the White," she said, taking another sip.

"Really? Why? You complained that it wasn't right for the starter's kit. You said it was too long."

"I arranged all the books on my bed, closed my eyes, and blindly picked one. You cannot argue with a method like that."

He wanted to laugh. "Definitely not."

"You know, I started it yesterday, and… the author's talking to me. Is that bad?"

He smirked, cocking his head ever so slightly to the right. "That depends. Are you talking back?"

"Sometimes. He's quite considerate, making sure I got out of Caroline's bed before she was startled awake. I had to thank him."

She was being cute, and she was kind of flirting with him, something she did all through their day in New York. The urge to touch her was stronger now that she was being sweet and all the anger in his body was directed toward his mother. He laid his hand over hers, fitting a thumb beneath her palm. The lower half of his body was pressed tightly against the counter in an attempt to get as close to her as possible. She faltered at his movement, but didn't pull away so he touched her cheek too, his hand sliding against her jawline.

"Jess." Her voice didn't sound right. It was a mutated whisper; soft, husky, confused. "I have a boyfriend."

"I know." He hated her, he hated her, he hated her. Over and over, he repeated it in his mind until the words no longer made sense. It was just noise, a rumble of sound. He was going to kiss her.

"Jess." She tugged her hand away. "Stop."

He let out a frustrated sigh, pulling away from the counter. "Right."

"Logan and I are serious," she said quietly. She was standing now, and he knew she was getting ready to leave. "I've been dating him for over six months. You and I have barely known each other a week."

He snapped. It was a clean break, directly down the middle. Maybe if she had thrown another reason in his face, he could have accepted it and let her leave, but to once again remind him of the problem that existed – a problem that was her own god damn fault – he couldn't take it.

"You like tea," he announced.

She had been edging toward the door, taking discreet little steps, but his statement stopped her. "What?"

"When you were eleven, you were sick, so Luke gave you tea instead of coffee. You loved it, but never told your mom because you thought she'd mock you for the rest of your life."

"How did you – "

"You sing in the shower, you hate carrots, you own every Spice Girls CD, and you used to have their poster on your wall."

Rory had her hand stuck on her scarf; she had been in the middle of wrapping it around her neck when he started his tirade. Everything about her seemed stuck now. Her mouth was open, frozen in a small 'o' of shock.

"You think you're the only person in the world who doesn't find David Sedaris funny," he continued. "When you read that book by Hemingway, you're going to hate it. It's going to put you sleep, and you'll end up using it as a paperweight or a doorjamb, and you're going to want to rub it in my face."

"Stop it," she said suddenly. "I don't know what you're doing, but – "

"Before you wanted to be a reporter, you wanted to be a photographer. And before that you wanted to be a flight attendant. Do you see the common theme here?" he asked. "Travel. You love to travel, and you're dying to go around the world. As much as you love this town, a part of you can't stand it. It's too small and it suffocates you. You'd rather live out of a suitcase and leave Stars Hollow as your backup plan."

She was crying. He hadn't expected it, but he didn't feel guilt or pity – he didn't feel anything at all.

"I never told anyone that before," she whispered.

He stared her down, his face unforgiving. "You told me."

For another moment, there were no words, no movement, but then the bell was ringing and the door was open and she was gone.