DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, or actors, or places or any of that jazz. I wish I owned Milo… but I don't.
Don't Panic - Chapter 2
"Honey, I really think you should see a shrink." My mom said finally when our talk was over. I was sobbing into her shirt again.
"What? Why?" I demanded.
"These past two years have been a disaster for you emotionally. Jess leaving, you going off to college, Jess coming back, you sleeping with Dean, who was married, the whole Dean dating you because he felt obligated when his wife caught your cheating asses, meeting Logan, changing for Logan, that stupid Rich Kids In Yale Who Do Stupid Things Club-"
"The Life and Death Brigade." I corrected.
"Brigade? That just sounds conceited. Anyways being that casual dating girl, how my mother treated Luke, how that affected your relationship with her, my mother and father's split, Chris coming back – Chris your whole life, the huntzbegers, stealing the boat, not talking to me, becoming my mother's Lorelai Doll… Am I forgetting anything?"
"Jess wrote me a book."
"Yeah, and that. Rory, honey, we've got some stuff we need to work through. A lot of stuff."
"I made some mistakes." I whispered, "Everybody makes mistakes."
"Yeah honey, I got pregnant. Which turned out for the better, clearly. But Rory, kid, a couple mistakes are expected. Rebellion is expected. But sleeping with boys you weren't in love with, changing for boys, joining the DAR, quitting Yale. That was never you. I don't know why it happened or how to fix all of it, but I know we need to look at it."
"Logan said that I was just an experiment."
"What?"
"Why do boys do that? They make you feel special, they make you care and then they leave. Or don't call. Or pretend it never happened. Or Lie. Or tell you it wasn't really anything."
"Rory honey what are you talking about?"
"Last night. Logan called; he left a message on my machine." I said quietly. "He was drunk. He told me that it was fine if I went off with Jess and got married and moved to Philly because I didn't mean anything. I was just a test. An experiment to see if he could play the steady boyfriend."
"Philly? Why Philly? I thought Jess lived in New York?"
"So not the point!" I cried. "The point is I'm stupid. I'm a stupid girl who does stupid things all because of stupid boys. Oprah would be horrified by me. Sleeping with Dean, believing he loved me. Pining over Jess, secretly hoping he would come back. Not talking it out when he did. Changing for Logan, thinking he actually cared. Believing Dad all those years."
"Oh, Rory." Mom cringed, "I'm a little late on this. I get that."
"And Chilton didn't matter. Those grades don't matter! Want to know why? Because my promptness and my punctuality and factuality and all those alities that they instill in you there aren't things you actually need. You need to be reckless and dangerous and daring to be a journalist. You need to get arrested and experience life." I was hysterical. "You need to be rich or a Cinderella story of a drug addict with AIDs who gets a scholarship to Harvard and finds the cure to cancer all while saving the dolphins because they have enough depth to write. They aren't a stupid small town girl who falls apart over stupid boys."
"Rory. Stop. Now. Listen to yourself. Please. Please. Please. We'll figure this out. You're a smart girl who under all the smiles and innocence had a pretty tough life. You're story is vastly less cliché then a drug addict whore with AIDs becoming a superhero or whatever it was. You're a pretty girl who's mom who was barely an adult herself while raising her, your Dad has been in and out of your life which probably accounts for a lot of your boy problems. You went to Yale and stole a boat – that's kind of Rebel Without A Cause, right?"
"I don't want to be that person."
"Maybe you don't have to be. You could be Courtney Love if you wanted to, just add a heroin addiction to all of this and a kid and the suicide of one of your ex's and dye your hair blonde. Or you could be Lindsay Lohan – that's an easier one. Dye your hair red, loose 20 pounds and get a boob job. Or you could go an entirely different route and become an Elvis impersonator – you're just a sex change away from a career as a minister in Vegas!"
"Who is Rory?" I ask her seriously, interrupting her rant.
"You know I can't answer that kid. That's up to you." We were quiet for a while; I finished my coffee and climbed into my bed. Mom stood in the door way and smiled softly, "We'll figure this out. I promise. Maybe we'll hire the guy who was working with Paris."
"I think he killed himself."
"Oh, that's not something to joke about." She pouted and looked at me in mock-severity.
"I'm not." I wasn't kidding I was pretty sure he either killed himself or went into witness protection.
"Oh well – I – I have to collect my 10 bucks from Sookie."
My mom had gone to Luke's to "buy coffee" which I knew was code for make-out. I was happy for her, the engagement and all. It was a long time coming this, true-adult-forever-best-friends-realize-they-are-actually-soul-mates type of love.
When I was younger the engagement would have broken my heart, shattering the notion of my Dad coming back to be a family with us. But I know now all Dad ever wanted to do was play house. It hurt every time he didn't show up. Or promised me something.
But after awhile I realized that I didn't notice that he wasn't at important events in my life; I only noticed when he was there. That wasn't a good realization. I did not like waking myself up to the idea that my Dad wasn't really part of my life beyond a name and an idea and an address I sent gifts and cards to every holiday.
I looked over on my dresser; there were a bunch of photographs of Mom and I throughout various stages in our lives but only one of me and my Dad. It was at Sookie's wedding. It was right before I kissed Jess. I was smiling, comfortably and I looked fairly happy but it looked fake and posed next to the picture of me covered in Cheez-Wiz laughing while my mom stood next to me with the bottle grinning madly.
I explored my room for a little bit; looking for something that exemplified my absence from it for so many months. The only thing that signified that any of what had happened actually did happen was Jess' book which was lying on my bed.
'The SubSect' it was called. If I was honest with myself the reason why I hadn't read it yet was I was scared to see what was in it. The lie of course was I hadn't had time. I thumbed through the pages. Now was a good a time as any to start it. I cuddled up in my blankets and began to read.
I burst into the diner; Mom was sitting at the counter flirting with Luke. Completely oblivious to my entrance, "MOM!"
"Rory? What's wrong-"
"THIS BOOK IS ABOUT ME."
"What?" I stopped waving it around enough for her to see what I was holding. "Oh. That. Well, of course it is."
"What do you mean 'Of course it is'? That's bull if you ask me. I'm not psychic, and if I was I'd be like that show with Raven girl who always messes up things by misinterpreting them on the Disney Channel-"
"You watch the Disney Channel?"
"Mom – I lived at Grandma's, I wasn't exactly busy."
"Right, continue rant." She gestured for me to continue.
"It's about me, and here and him and there and changes and-"
"Again, Duh!" She rolled her eyes at me.
"Mom you don't get it – the girl in this book, she's Rory." I declared frustared, she wasn't getting it.
"Rory – we just covered that."
"No, I mean like when I asked who Rory is – Rory is right here, in these pages." Mom frowned.
"Rory, that's just Jess' interpretation of you – it's not who you are. You're not exactly emotionally stable right now. I really don't think you want to be all Runaway Bride and have a guy know you before you know yourself. Especially one like Jess who has done nothing but hurt you from the get go."
"I hurt him too. Add that to the list of things I've done wrong in my life." I fumed.
"Oh! Oh! I had another one too – remember the time you thought that it would be a good idea to combine Chinese Food and Cold Pizza? Yeah that's right up there with dropping out of Yale."
I had done a full two days of moping and crying about how pathetic I had let myself become before I finally pulled it together. I was sitting on the porch while my mom painted my toenails when I announced I intended on getting a job and going back to school.
Mom smiled, "Rory only if that's what you really want. If you want to become a drug-dealer or a stripper, I'm open to the idea. Just make sure to tell the Grandparents first."
"There was plan, I crashed and burned and then got in an ambulance which crashed and I got out and got in another car and drove around in circles for a little bit and then that car crashed… Like a Michel Bay film, big explosive redundant car crashes. But see, I'm never going to see another Michel Bay film ever again, not after The Island."
"There was a reference in there and I'm sure it made sense and was brilliant but after Pearl Harbor I erased Michel Bay from my mind. So, since I don't have any clue who Michel Bay is, I can't relate." She continued painting my toes.
"I'm going to apply for a job at the Stamford Eagle." I declared.
"Hon, there's facing your fears and then there is baiting another mental breakdown. If your not careful you might end up like Buffy in that episode where they try and make you think it's all a crazy girl's dream – but you know its not."
"I will not end up like Psyche-Ward-Buffy."
"If you say so," she caps the nail polish, "All done! Look your nails are all red and slutty."
"Why can't we have normal traditions? Like baking cookies or something?" I asked of no one in particular.
"Rory. I flunked out of Home Economics. I was kicked out of that cooking class I took. And need I remind you of Santa Cookie Terrors 1991 through 1995."
I shuddered. I was never able to look at sugar cookies the same way. "Right. Good point. Slutty nail polish is way better than baking cookies."
So there you go chapter 2; hope you enjoy. It's a little shorter then chapter one – but that was an epically long chapter.