Author's note: In order to conform to a few wishes in reviews, I had to take a few days and add a few scenes. So even though this is the final chapter, this is also by far the longest chapter. Special thanks again to bellybuttonsrcool for pointing out that Lorelai mentioned she liked boysenberry in the fifth season. Thanks to everyone who reviewed for their feedback.
Enjoy the finale.
"They push and pull 'till it breaks in half,
I never trust a guy with a nervous laugh."
'I Can't Figure You Out,' The Gin Blossoms
6. Truth Be Told
When I get home I've decided two things: One, I can't be with Jason if he can't be around when I need him. And two…I've got to figure out what I'm going to do about Luke.
But I don't have a plan, and my denial flourishes until I can decide how I'm going to end it with Jason. Then, when he gives me the key to his apartment I realize that I've got to break it off that night. We reach the door of my house and I hear Jason trying to explain the talking key, but I cut him off. "Jason, I can't be with you." I look him in the eyes.
"What?" He's totally confused. "Is this about the key? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you feel pressured." He takes my hands.
I pull away from his grasp. "It's not about the key." I begin. "Well, it's not just about the key."
"What is it then?"
"It's…do you realize what this means?" I take the key from my purse and show it to him.
"It means you passed my 'run test.'" It sounds like a joke, but I can see that he is serious. "Lorelai, I really care about you. I thought we were doing fine."
"We're not!" My voice rises.
"Where is this coming from?" he asks.
"You should have been there for me! At the funeral." I tell him. Then I remember Luke's words. "You should've been a man and sucked it up."
"I didn't realize you were so upset about that, and I told you I'm just really freaked out by funerals." He drops his eyes as he realizes how that sounds to my ears.
"You can't pick and choose these things Jason." I tell him. "You have to take the good with the bad. You can't expect me to spend the night if you won't comfort me in the morning. And you should've been there for my father. You owed it to him as a friend and you owed it to me because we were in a relationship." I make sure to use the past tense.
"Were we in a relationship?" Jason asks tersely. "We never even told your parents. How mature was it to keep putting that off?"
"I know that was a bad idea—"
"You're damn right it was a bad idea!" and suddenly I'm the one being yelled at. "I don't appreciate a laundry list of expectations if you can't even tell the truth to your parents." He's angry. "I was invested in this; I wanted to be honest from the beginning. You were the one who wanted to sneak around—and let me tell you, the sneaking around makes it very hard to be there for you."
"You were not invested; you didn't even make the effort. You won't show up for the difficult things, like funerals. I can't spend the night with you—I have to have a slumber party in the guest room. Even if we weren't 'sneaking around,' I could not go on like that. I need someone to be there for me no matter what. You've ducked out of every uncomfortable event or situation that you could, and I'm tired of it. I can't depend on you so I can't be with you." I try to hand the key back to him but he just stares at me. "Jason, just take the key and leave."
"You can't be serious." He looks at me, and I can tell he's going to try and convince me I'm making a mistake. Like I would be throwing away a good investment if I really decided to break up with him. I recognize just how much he's convinced me to put up with and I realize I should have paid more attention to what he said on our first date. He'd mentioned something about being able to convince anyone of anything if they gave him half a chance; and I was so angry at my mother that day that I thought he was just joking or bragging about his salesman skills. But now I realize he'd persuaded me into more and more situations that I didn't like or feel comfortable about; that I've put up with more from him than I had from anyone else because he could charm his way into anything. And I went along with all of it. I hate to even consider it, but my mother's instincts were on the mark. She didn't like him from the beginning and the more I think about it the more I see what she was talking about. There's something…underhanded about him, something about him that is not quite honest.
And I don't want to put up with it anymore. "I am."
"No you're not," he says. "Look, let's just tell your parents about us, and then I can really be here for you. We'll—"
"No!" I shout. "Jason, this is it. I don't want to be convinced to go along with another uncomfortable situation. You shouldn't have to convince me to go along with anything. We should be able to talk and compromise."
"I've never forced you to do anything…" Jason begins.
"I know, and that's why I wonder how I let myself agree with some of the things you said." I say to him. "I'm not happy Jason and I don't think you really care about me."
"How can you say that?" He's getting angry.
"Because if you did then you would've been at the funeral. You would've been there for my father and you would've been there for me." I hold the key up to him once more. "This is finished. Take the key, and don't call me again. I can't be with someone who won't be there for me and my family."
He takes the key. "Just like that?" He spits out. "It's over just like that?"
"Yes, no paperwork involved."
Like in a divorce.
I remember Luke's sock revelation he shared with me earlier and wonder what he's going to do about it. "Goodbye." I don't blink.
Jason walks back to his car and slams the door hard. He starts the engine and looks back at me, but I'm not going inside until I see him drive away. The car peels out of my driveway, spitting gravel across the yard. After another minute I finally go inside and listen to my messages as I hang my coat. Luke's voice catches my attention because he still sounds angry, but I drop my keys when the word 'jail' comes from the machine.
Oh my God, he killed them both. He was livid this morning.
But he needs a ride home, so it couldn't be murder.
Maybe it was just assault.
No, I don't think Luke would do that.
I quickly grab my coat and pick my keys up, rushing to get out the door. The banks are closed by now so I stop at an ATM to pull the bail money. I floor the accelerator when I merge onto the highway and pray I won't get a speeding ticket.
It would be ironic. We're already heading to jail; we just don't want to spend the night there.
When I get to the police station I see him through a small window in the door. He is sitting in the corner of the cell and staring at the concrete floor. The policeman warns me before he goes to get Luke. "He was pretty violent when we picked him up, ma'am. I don't think he's been drinking, but he's got a bad temper. Are you sure you want to pick him up?"
"I'm sure." I say.
The cop looks me in the eye a moment; and I can see he's wondering why I'm not afraid of a man who—in his eyes, at least—is obviously dangerous and volatile. "Okay." The cop disappears behind the door and I hear voices. Luke sounds really, really angry; practically fuming. The door flies open and crashes against the stopper, and Luke is a little surprised to see me standing right in front of him.
"Hey," he says through clenched teeth.
"Hey." I say back, because what else is there to say?
"Thanks for coming to get me." Luke says and then heads to the exit. Without a word I follow a few steps behind, and the cop keeps a watchful eye on both of us.
I want to know what happened, but I also know that he won't talk about it. We pick up his truck and I talk him out of a second trip to the Litchfield jail after he realizes that the guy is still in his house. I make sure he leads the way home by pretending to be lost, but the truth is I want to be sure he makes it home safely. I don't want him to stop at a bar and drink alone and I don't want him to take another impromptu fishing trip. I want to be there for him because he is always there for me.
When we reach the diner—which is closed—I stop and try to catch up to him, but he is already inside and climbing up the stairs. "Luke!" I call out when I get to the apartment door. There is no answer so I try again, speaking a little softer this time "Luke, are you okay?" Still nothing. "Luke, please answer me."
I hear footsteps cross the room and the door flies open. "What do you want?" he asks angrily. Then he sees how much that hurt me and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Lorelai. I didn't mean to snap at you." He takes a deep breath, but his voice is still edgy. "Why are you here?"
"Do you want to…talk about anything?" I ask.
"No."
"Luke, let me help you." I say.
"I'm fine." He tells me. "Look, thanks for giving me a ride. I can pay you back for the bail money tomorrow."
He tries to retreat back into his apartment but I catch the door with my hands. "Don't worry about that. Think of it as a down payment on your loan." I smile a little but he doesn't return it. "We don't even have to talk about anything. I'll just…keep you company for a while. We can watch a baseball game or something."
But he shuts me down, "I don't want company."
"And I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning and find out you've decided to do another Jeremiah Johnson impression and disappear into the woods for the next month." I try to pass it off as a little joke, but it comes out so serious that I have to add something else to ease the tension so I fall back on my most reliable excuse. "I need my coffee in the morning."
"The diner will be open tomorrow." Luke says tiredly.
"And you'll be there?" I press.
"Yes, I'll be there. Yes, I'll have coffee." Luke growls.
"Good. I'll be there at six just to make sure." I tell him.
Luke doesn't respond to this, he just looks tired. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening. You didn't have plans with, uh, Jason, did you?" He asks, trying to remember my ex-boyfriend's name.
"No." I tell him.
"Okay. 'Cause you could've just, you know, told him I was going through a psychotic episode or something. I could talk to him if that would help." He's trying to play it off and ease the tension, but he looks so…ashamed…that I'm here trying to comfort him.
"Jason and I broke up." I tell him.
He sighs and leans against the doorjamb. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry for you." I tell him, but he won't look me in the eyes. "Hey, come here." I tell him.
"What?" he stands up straight and I pull him into a hug. He's surprised and I hear his gruff, grumpy voice. "God, Lorelai, I don't need a hug. I'm not a very touchy-feely kind of guy." But he doesn't let go immediately.
"Then do it for me." I say. He sighs and I feel him relax so I hug him tightly.
His wife cheated on him and I just broke up. Not a good night in the love department.
I look up at him and realize we are extremely close. He feels my look and pulls his head back to catch my eyes a moment. Butterflies flutter in my stomach because I'm pretty sure I just saw desire flicker in his eyes. He leans in…
He's going to kiss me…
But pauses.
Just do it!
Instead he stays a hair's breath from me and whispers gently, "I really need to be alone tonight."
What! "Luke, I don't think that's a good idea." I want to be here for you.
"I, I just need to figure out how I'm…going to finish the divorce." He says. "I need to do that alone."
The divorce. Because even if his wife cheated on him, he is still married; and I don't want to cheat with him. We love each other, and we're better than that.
I look in his eyes and see that he is hiding his pain. He hides it well—a slight darkening of his eyes—but now I'm close enough to see past the act. "You're sure?" I ask.
He sighs. "Yeah, I'm sure."
I stand on my tip-toes and kiss his cheek. "If you need anything, call me." I loosen our embrace.
"I will." He promises. "Thanks."
I walk slowly down the stairs and drive home on autopilot with the events of the evening swirling around in my head.
"Rumors follow everywhere you go,
Like when you left and I was last to know.
Well you're famous now and there's no doubt,
In all the places you hang out.
They know your name and they know what you're about."
'Found Out About You,' The Gin Blossoms
Lane is very surprised to see me waiting on the front steps the next morning as she opened the diner for business. I tell her I've got an early meeting with an investor of the inn—which isn't a lie—and try to be nonchalant as I ask if Luke is there this morning to make my pancakes. Lane smiles softly at that, and I wonder how much she knows about what is going on. "He'll be down in a few minutes. He just got back from a run about ten minutes ago."
"A run?" I ask.
"Yeah, he usually runs right after deliveries three or four times a week." She explains. "He used to run track in high school, you know."
"Yeah, I've seen the plaque." I smile at the memory.
"He got back a little later than usual this morning, but he already made some coffee if you want to wait 'til he comes down."
"Sure, I'll take a cup." I say as I walk over to the end of the counter that is right next to the staircase leading to Luke's apartment. Lane pours a blue mug and sets it next to me on her way to take orders for the few other customers in the diner. When she's finished filling coffee mugs she puts the orders next to the entrance of the kitchen and comes back to stand next to me.
"So," Lane says in a low voice as she tops off my mug and sets the coffee pot down before leaning against the counter. "I don't know a lot about what's been going on, but I think something really bad happened last night, or yesterday afternoon."
"Really?" I try to seem surprised as I take a sip of coffee.
"Yeah," Lane says. She glances at the curtain that hides the staircase and says, "Something definitely happened sometime between four o'clock yesterday and five-thirty this morning. I mean, I've heard…rumors…of what she did to him." Lane is trying to keep her anger in check, and I realize how much she also cares about Luke. "I could tell he was upset for most of the day. He was still here when I got off at four, but when I got here this morning to open with him he wasn't even back from wherever it is he runs to yet."
"No?" I ask.
"No." Lane confirms. "In fact, he didn't come back until quarter 'til. You must've just missed him outside. I was beginning to wonder if he'd closed for the day but had forgotten to tell me—it's never happened before but I thought…I don't know, I might have just not heard him say it or maybe he had something come up." She glances at the curtains again and continues, "Anyways, when he finally showed up he was all out of breath and didn't even see me waiting on the steps until he was breathing normally again. He just looked so—I don't know if you know much about running—but he looked like he ran really hard, really fast. Like he was trying to figure something out or clear his head."
"Ah," I say and drink some more coffee.
Lane furrows her brow as she debates what to say next. "So, do you…" She pauses again, still unsure, but finally asks her question. "Do you know anything? I mean, is it true? Did she…" But Lane can't bring herself to say what Nicole did. "Did she do that to him?"
Normally I wouldn't answer Lane; this is very private and she is very young. But the rumors are already flying and she should hear the truth from me, she worries for Luke just like Rory does. God only knows how my child found out, but not five minutes after I got home last night Rory called and asked me if Luke was alright. When I asked how she knew something had happened she told me it was just her woman's intuition.
Rory's intuition and Luke's gut feelings...who knew they would have that in common.
She kept asking if Luke was okay and it took me twenty minutes to convince her not to come home from Yale right away. In the end she decided she would try and leave Friday Night Dinner early and come home for the weekend. I'm glad for that; I think Luke will like seeing Rory this weekend.
Lane is watching me, waiting for an answer. I sigh and look down a moment before saying, "Yes, she did."
Lane clenches her fists and the loathing is clear in her voice, "I can't believe that!"
"Lane, calm down." I tell her
"But what's wrong with her?" Lane asks. "I mean, Luke put up with her crazy schedule and her idiotic idea about dating even though they're married, he even moved in with her!" She paused a moment and dropped her voice to barely above a whisper. "Oh my God, what if the reason for her crazy schedule was because she was having an affair?"
"Lane…"
"What? You're not upset too?"
"Of course I'm upset," I respond. "Luke doesn't deserve this."
"Nicole's going straight to Hell," Lane says bitterly. "Mama Kim will back me up on this one, too. The worst thing you can do is betray someone. She'll be sitting next to Satan himself; ninth layer, center aisle."
"Lane!"
"Luke's is the only Mama Kim-approved place in this whole town. In fact, Luke is the only Mama Kim-approved man I know other than my father. I don't like to see him hurt."
"Lane, it won't help to get angry about this," I try to reason. "It's over and done, you can't do anything about that. All we can do now is help him move past it."
Lane is silent a moment, "Yeah, I guess you're right." And I can see she realizes that's why I'm here so early this morning.
I hear the door shut upstairs and Lane stands up straight. "So," she says brightly. "You want pancakes? Anything else?"
"Bacon, and I'll try some hash browns this morning." I tell her as Luke comes through the curtain and stops at the sight of me.
"Jeez, I thought you were kidding." He rubs his eyes a little and looks at the two of us.
"Nope," I smile as I take the last sip of my coffee and hold it out to Luke. "Coffee please?"
Luke sighs and picks up the coffee pot on the counter, "There is something seriously wrong with you." He says.
"Fine, I'll have a glass of orange juice to go with my breakfast if it makes you happy." I say.
"Throw in half a grapefruit and I'll jump for joy." Luke deadpanned.
"You don't serve grapefruits." I tease.
"I can go next door and buy a grapefruit," He says. "I've done it before." He smiles a little at that memory.
"Nah, save your money today," I tell him. "The orange juice is all you'll get me to agree to."
"Well, it's a start," Luke says as he sets the coffee pot on the warmer.
Lane says, "I've already taken everyone's orders, I put the tickets over there." She points in the direction of the kitchen. "Kirk wanted his French toast cut into stars today and Mr. Browne wanted to know if you have any of that apple-cinnamon butter left to go on his pancakes."
"Okay, tell Kirk it'll take me a few minutes to find my star cookie-cutter and tell Mr. Browne I should have just enough left for him."
"Hey, I didn't know you had the apple-cinnamon butter left." I say.
"Relax, I figured you'd want some," Luke says tiredly. "I'll be out with your breakfast in a few minutes."
He heads into the kitchen and I turn to Lane. "Stars?" I ask. "Luke cuts Kirk's breakfast into stars for him?"
Lane smiles a little. "The first time I took his order and he asked for that I just laughed at him. But he insisted and when I brought it to Luke he just looked at the order and pulled out a cookie-cutter like it was no big deal." She quickly turns to make sure Luke isn't standing behind her, "I think it's sweet, Luke doing those little things, especially for someone like Kirk." She scans the diner and then says, "Well, I need to make the rounds again; your breakfast should be ready pretty soon.
I take the opportunity to look around the diner and out the windows. Taylor's ice cream shop is still closed this early, but the market is open and there are a few people in it. It's quiet this early in the morning.
"Here you go," Luke's voice interrupts my thoughts as he slides my plate in front of me. Lane has already taken one of the others and Luke takes Kirk's French toast to him before coming back to the counter.
"Thanks for the pancakes." I say to him.
"Yeah," he says as he makes some more coffee.
"Can I get them shaped like stars next time?"
"No." he grunts.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because I have enough trouble remembering not to put your eggs on your pancakes so that your breakfast doesn't ogle you."
"Fine," I say. "Hey Luke—"
"Listen," he says at the same time, and I go quiet. "It's going to get really busy in about five minutes and I've got to take care of a few things or I'll end up being swamped."
"Oh, okay."
"I'll check on you in a couple minutes, alright?"
"Yeah, fine." I say and he walks toward the storeroom. The diner does get busy, and he checks on me every few minutes or so in between runs to the storeroom for eggs or bread or whatever else it is that everyone is ordering. It finally occurs to me that I'm done with breakfast and I haven't been able to talk to him yet, just to see how he's doing. I gather my purse and wait for an older man to pay for his meal before I come to the register. "Hey," I say.
"Hey," Luke replies.
"So, how are you this morning?" I ask.
Luke gestures at the tables, "Busy."
Luke…
"Rory said she was going to try and come home this weekend," I tell him.
"Good, I bet she could use a break from school." Luke isn't smiling, but he sounds a little happier.
"So, other than you being busy, what else is going on?" I hand him my money.
"Can't find a loaf of wheat bread—makes me wonder how I can lose something like that." Luke says as he hands me my change.
"Luke—"
"Lorelai," he says tiredly, and I can tell he's wearing thin. "Everything's fine."
"Okay," I say. "I'll probably come by for coffee later." I smile.
"See you then."
"Bye." I say as I head out the door.
When I come back after work I find out Luke is running errands, and when he gets back he spends his time running between the kitchen and upstairs. I only get to talk to him a few minutes, and he doesn't want to talk at all; not today and not tomorrow and not the day after.
Rory comes home a few days later, and she spends a lot of time hanging out with Lane, who happens to be working at the diner most of the weekend. I have a feeling she's checking on Luke as well as catching up with Lane.
Three weeks later, life is returning to normal. Luke has calmed down. He lets Cesar and Lane take orders while he spends most of his time doing inventory.
Some things never change.
He goes to his apartment early every night, so it's difficult to talk to him. I try to focus on the inn; he'll talk when he's ready. I remind myself that I can't push Luke to talk, especially about his feelings. Even though I just want to make sure he's alright, he'll see my questions as nagging. He'll become self-conscious and angry because every time someone asks if he's okay he remembers why he is in this situation. So I phrase my questions carefully and keep the conversations light. I know that he's upset, but I pretend not to notice.
Late that Friday night, I'm coming back from another dinner and see that the lights are still on in the diner, so I stop and open the door, ignoring the 'closed' sign. The chairs are all up on the tables and Luke is mopping the floor. I hear a noise and see his tiny TV sitting on the counter, next to…a baseball bat?
Luke looks up from his work. "Hey, I closed up a little early, but I could make you something if you want."
"No, that's okay." I spot a single coffee pot behind the counter. "I'll just finish off your coffee for the night."
"Help yourself." Luke rings out the mop.
"You mean I can go behind the counter?" I'm purposely over-enthusiastic.
"Be careful, I already mopped back there so the floor is wet." Luke is swinging the mop back and forth as he talks.
"Where's your sign?" I ask.
"What sign?" Luke stops and turns around.
"Your 'wet floor' sign." I say. "What would the health department say about not warning customers?"
"I used to use a sign I stole from Taylor, but he found out I had it and threatened to embargo the diner, so I gave it back to him.
I laugh. "How was he going to embargo the diner?"
"Hell if I know." Luke starts mopping again. "It was a long time ago, and I only took the sign to see how mad he would get."
"How mad did he get?" I ask.
"I thought I saw steam come out of his ears. He was just about as red as your dress." Luke smiles, "You look nice tonight, by the way."
I blush a little. "Well, you know, I look damn good in red."
"Oh, I know." Luke says as he finishes mopping and takes the bucket in the back.
Is he flirting with me?
Well, duh. You're not that dense.
He comes back out and starts washing his hands in the sink.
"Hey," I get his attention. "Why do you have the mini-TV out tonight?"
"I was watching a ball game earlier." Luke says.
"What's with the…bat? You didn't kill his big brother upstairs did you?"
"No, I just…had a lot on my mind today so I went to the batting cages." Luke wipes his hands. "Aw, crap." He grumbles.
"What?"
"I got grease all over my shirt." He begins to unbutton it. "I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"To change," He points upstairs.
"Why? It's after ten and I'm the only person who'll be here between now and six o'clock tomorrow morning."
"I don't want it to stain." Luke says.
"I'll call Martha to get it out." I quip. "It'll be fine."
"Fine," Luke takes off his flannel and un-tucks his grey T-shirt. He tosses the dirty shirt into the corner near the stairs and leans against the counter. The TV catches his attention and he watches it for a minute.
"What's on now?" I ask.
"Sportscenter." He replies.
"Again? Is it on a constant loop or something?" I ask.
"Pretty much," Luke says "It's on in the mornings, evenings, and then again late at night. It's like CNN, only not such a downer."
"So how were the batting cages?" I ask.
"A little wild at first, but not bad." Luke is still watching the TV.
Luke, why won't you just talk to me?
"What was on your mind?" I continue.
"When?"
"Today—you said you had a lot on your mind and that's why you went to the batting cages."
"I just had a lot of things I had to finish today." Luke glances at me and then turns back to the highlights.
"We're they…divorce things?"
Luke sighs. "Yeah."
"Sorry."
"Well, it's done now so I don't have to think about it anymore." He looks at me a moment longer this time before returning his attention to the television.
"It's done?"
"Yeah, it's done." Luke glances at the counter before looking back at me. "I went to Litchfield today and signed the final papers."
"Well, at least it's over." I say.
"She kept the house." Luke tells me.
"What?" I'm a little surprised by this non sequitur.
"Nicole got the house in the divorce." He clarifies. "I'm…moving back to Stars Hollow. I just, I thought you should know that since we're friends."
"Thanks for telling me." I smile at him. "The divorce thing went pretty fast though, didn't it? I mean I always hear how these things can take months or even years."
"Yeah, well, that's one of the perks of divorcing a lawyer." Luke smiles sarcastically. "We already had the papers from when we were separated, and Nicole worked the system to have things expedited."
"That's good."
"I just wanted to be done with it."
"Do you…want any company tonight? Or do you need some time to process everything?" I ask.
"I did my processing at the batting cages." Luke says. "I was just going to close early and drink a beer, but if you want to come up I wouldn't mind."
"Sure." I agree.
"Do you, uh, want to go home and change first?" Luke asks.
I forgot about being all dressed up. "What do you got here?" I bat my eyelashes.
"You're not stealing any more flannel." Luke tells me. "Go home and change. By the time you get back I'll be finished down here.
"I'll be right back." I call over my shoulder.
"I want my flannel." Luke reminds me.
I'm walking up to the door of the diner twenty minutes later, feeling much more comfortable in a black V-neck T-shirt and good pair of jeans. I open the door and Luke comes from the storage room. "Hey, did you want anything from down here?"
"No," I say.
Luke pulls back the curtain. "After you."
"Thanks." I start up the stairs.
"Mmmhmm. I see you conveniently forgot my shirt." He says dryly.
"I told you, you're not getting it back." I say with a smile.
"So tell me all your troubles,
I'll surely tell you mine.
We'll laugh and smoke and cuss and joke,
And have a glass of wine."
'When the Coast Is Clear,' Jimmy Buffett
Its past eleven-thirty, but Luke and I are sitting on his couch, facing each other and still nursing our first beers of the night. The TV is buzzing low, but I don't know what show is on.
Probably Sportscenter again.
Luke has opened up a little about his past relationships and I get a flash of déjà vu as I think of our movie night conversation after Rory called. We're talking quietly and I'm trying to make him smile for the first time since we've come up to the apartment.
"Thanks for being here tonight." Luke says as he shakes his bottle gently. The little bit of beer left swirls around and then settles as he sets the bottle on the coffee table.
"I'm glad I can be here." I say. "It's nice to be able to return the favor after so many times."
"…I know I've been a little grumpy for the last couple weeks."
"You're always a little grumpy." I shoot back.
He almost cracks a smile at that. "Yeah, well…thanks for putting up with me."
So close.
I set my bottle down next to his and stretch my legs out a little.
"Trying to kick me off the couch again?" Luke deadpans.
"There's room for both of us." I say, noticing that my move caught his attention again.
Works every time.
I tuck my legs under myself so that we're sitting closer together.
"It's just been really…" Luke trails off. I look up to see that he is trying to figure out how to finish his sentence. "I've been so angry about everything."
"Why?" I ask.
"Because I was humiliated!" he says bitterly. "I mean, Nicole was the one who wanted to give this another chance—she came to me. And I believed her. It seems like that's my genetic defect. I believed Nicole, I believed Rachel repeatedly, and I got kicked to the curb every time. Hell, I even gave Jess a second chance to stay and graduate, but that didn't make a damn bit of difference." His eyes flashed with defeat. Then he looks at me. "I'm sorry—I don't usually…talk about these things. You're hearing twenty years of frustration all in one night."
"You usually go to the batting cages." I say, remembering his comment from earlier.
"Yeah," Luke seems a little surprised I picked up on that. "I don't do the big, long emotional talks—I never have. Neither did my dad." He pauses a moment and then points to himself. "We—my dad and me—not the best communicators."
"Maybe you should try to talk about things." I encourage; I realize this is how I usually learn about Luke's past. A word or gesture will trigger his memory, and he'll tell a story or make a sideways comment about how things were long before we had met.
"Talk?" Luke shakes his head. "I don't think so. I just…I've never felt comfortable talking about things. It's just not part of who I am—in fact, I think tonight is the most I've ever talked. I remember my dad used to drive my mom crazy—he would always avoid big talks. He told my mom that every time they talked he ended up in trouble, and he was tired of being in trouble. But, eventually, he'd give in—I never really understood why he did until you started begging me for coffee." Luke sighs and kind of shakes his head. "I can still hear her yelling at him. 'William Danes!'" His voice rises a little as he tries to imitate a woman. "'Come down from that office and talk to me, now.' And two minutes later, my dad would trudge down the stairs, dragging his feet, and they'd take a walk around town and talk about whatever it was that was on my mom's mind."
"She sounds like a good woman." I say.
"She was." Luke stares at his shoes, like he's looking for a way to explain something. He laughs a little but doesn't smile, "The musicals you found—they were hers. She loved them. I got kinda tired of them after watching them nine hundred-million times, but she watched them every weekend. She'd pop a movie in and sing along as she did housework."
"How did…what happened to her?" I ask
"I'd rather not talk about that." Luke adjusts his hat.
"I'm sorry." Because what else is there to say?
"You didn't know." Luke dismisses my concern. "I don't like to share that part of my life. I guess Nicole will go into that category too." He's silent a moment and I don't know what to say. "I just, I wish she would've told me she was that unhappy. Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve some of the things that have happened in my life."
"You didn't deserve that." I tell him.
"But still—did I kick a duck or something?" Luke asks me.
"What?" Usually it's me that confuses him.
"It's an old joke I heard when I was a kid. It's stupid so I'm not going to tell it, but the gist is that if you kick a duck in heaven you'll have bad karma for the rest of eternity." Luke tells me.
"I can honestly say I've never heard it."
Luke looks surprised. "I never thought I'd stump you."
"Better make a note in your diary, it doesn't happen often." I tease.
We'll have to pull a Mission Impossible and see if he actually does.
"Dear diary…" Luke says in a girly voice as he stands up and grabs the beer bottles. "Today I stumped Lorelai. My life is complete." He rinses the bottles out and I stand up to stretch. "Did you want another?" Luke asks. I shake my head and Luke agrees with me. "Yeah, I didn't need to get drunk—that doesn't fix anything and I end up feeling like crap in the morning. I just needed to…"
"Wallow?" I finish for him.
He scrunches his eyebrows in slight disgust and asks. "What's the masculine version of that?"
"Going to the batting cages." I say with a small smile; then I see the time on the grandfather clock behind him. "It's getting late…" I say, not really wanting to go yet, but Luke looks tired.
"Yeah," I can tell Luke is covering his emotions again. "Did you walk here?"
"Yeah."
"You want me to walk you home?" Luke offers.
"No, that's okay." I say. "This is Stars Hollow." I see him start to object and reassure him, "I've got my cell if I run into any hoodlums."
He follows me to the door and I give him a small hug—it's been getting easier to give him hugs over the past few weeks. "Goodnight." I say.
"See you later." Luke answers.
"Angel de mi guardia, dulce compañía, no me desampare ni de noche ni de día. No me deje sola que me perdería."
Traditional Southwest Prayer
The walk home is quiet and quick. That is not how I thought the evening would go, but at least he's finally finished with the divorce.
Cesar and Lane just can't add up to Luke in the kitchen.
I open my door and feel disappointment.
What did you expect though?
I expected…more.
Why?
Because… because of the way he looked at me that one night. Because we're flirting again and spending a lot of time together and he knows I'm free and he's finally free—
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts.
Who is that? It's midnight.
I grab my cell and move to get a look at the door. It's hard to make out shapes because of the frosted glass, but I see…a blue baseball cap?
"Luke?" I open the door and see that he is about to knock again. He looks a little nervous and out of breath. "Did you follow me home?"
"No." he answers quickly.
"You just want your shirt back that bad?" I ask. "'Cause seriously, I was going to give it back at breakfast in the morning."
He cracks a smile.
Finally.
He laughs a little and shakes his head, "No."
"Then what?" I ask.
"I know when we became friends." He answers.
"What?" Where is this coming from?
"You asked me when I knew we were friends when you stayed the night. I know the answer." Luke steps closer to me.
"Luke, I was crazy that night—" But he cuts me off.
"It was the first time Rory came in by herself." He tells me.
"Luke, have you been obsessing over that question this whole time?" I'm a little thrown. I'm flattered and happy because he remembered, but I'm confused as to why he didn't mention this earlier in the night. I turn away slightly to try and regain my bearings.
"No." Luke answers my question. "But you were right. That's the kind of thing I should be able to pin down. After all we've been through I should know something like that." He pauses for a breath and takes hold of my hands, which makes me look him in the eye. "The first time Rory came in by herself was when I realized we were friends. She was eleven. It was four o'clock and she had just gotten out of the last day of school for the year. I was a little surprised to see her in the diner 'cause you two usually didn't come in until after five. So I asked her where you were—since you two are joined at the hip—and she told me very proudly that she was meeting you at the diner for dinner. And she just waited for you—reading and writing in that little notebook she used to carry everywhere or talking to me when I took a break behind the counter. You came in just after five like always and you guys had dinner and then you called me Duke and left. I knew you never let her go places by herself when she was that young. But you let her come to the diner, and that's when I knew we were friends."
And now I can barely stand, because Luke's words are swirling in my head and making me dizzy; he could tell me—to the minute—when he knew we were friends. "Wha…when …" But the words get caught in my throat and tears sting my eyes.
"Hey, don't cry." Luke takes me into his arms. But I can't help it this time. I bury my face in his chest and my tears stain his T-shirt. "Shh. There's no reason to cry." I can hear he's angry with himself. "That was supposed to make you happy…" he grumbles, more to himself than to me.
I pull back with a small laugh and look him in the eyes. "It did." I say to him. "I can't believe you told me that. No one's ever made me feel so special." I rest my head against his chest again and take a breath.
"I didn't mean to make you cry." Luke sounds embarrassed now.
"It's fine." I say. I look up and see that he is staring at me.
He struggles for the words, "Listen, I really care about you and Rory—and I know I don't say that out loud, but you both have really helped me a lot. I just want you to know—to hear it from me."
"Thank you." I say. I blink away a couple tears and notice that he is still looking into my eyes. "What?"
"Nothing," but Luke quickly corrects himself, stumbling a little over his words. "I mean—God, you're beautiful. I don't think I've told you that before either, but you are."
"Thank you." I blush.
"Let me kiss you." He speaks softly. "Please."
I nod my head and our lips meet. And this moment is perfect.
Thank you for reading.
I think the traditional prayer is particularly fitting, loosely translated it means: "My guardian angel, my sweet companion, please never leave me in the day or in the night. Without you I would be lost." It comes from a song penned by Doug Hopkins, who based the song off of a picture of two small children crossing a rickety bridge with an angel watching over them in the background.
I don't have plans for additional chapters or a sequel, but I am working on another story that is turning out to be rather epic. Right now I've got a few chapters down and am trying to figure out where this project will go—or if it will even get off the ground for that matter.
Until next time…