Title: Losing Left and Right, Finding In Between
Summary: Never in a million years did he expect to find her on his doorstep. Her, of all people. And truth be told, she never expected that it would be him she was running to.
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Credit for that mess goes to AS-P and The WB.
Notes: A big THANKS for all the reviews for the previous chapter...I know, it was so long ago. ;) Sorry this took forever. The muse responsible for this fic has been elusive lately. Forgive me?
Chapter Nine: To Be Awake Alone
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Rory Gilmore was quickly becoming embittered by New York City. She loved the sights, she loved the food, she loved her boyfriend; all of which were there, yet she was having a hard time falling in love with the city itself.
Case in point:
It was her third straight day of job hunting. And not hitting two or three places before going home. This was hard-core, blister inducing, beating the pavement, covering miles in just a few hours, job hunting. This was out 9 to 5, coming home exhausted and disheartened and having nothing to show for it.
In a city of 8 million, she would have assumed that one place, one store, one deli, one hole-in-the-wall anything would need an employee.
Apparently, NYC had reached capacity.
She kept at it, though. Something had to give. She knew it would. This was meant to be; her and Jess. It took her a few weeks, but she was sure now. (So sure, in fact, that she had contacted her mother. A post card, yes, but contact nonetheless.)
In order for this, for them, to work, she would need a job. Ergo, everything would fall into place. She believed.
She had no real world skills (she couldn't even flawlessly apply mascara in a moving vehicle). Besides doing minimal paperwork for her mother's inn, she had no work experience. She was green, and she looked it. Porcelain skin, big doe eyes, flawless complexion; to say she didn't fit in with the locals was an understatement. But she kept on.
It was a Thursday, and millions of people nationwide were hunkering down to watch Survivor, or perhaps the OC. But not Jess, and for many reasons. Survivor, although entertaining in the sense that human beings would, in fact, do anything for money (and there is video to prove it), was not exactly Jess's liking. And the OC...well, that one's pretty much self-explanatory.
Tasteless television aside, Jess was having trouble sitting still because Rory wasn't home yet. The summertime sunshine was fading along the horizon, sending a harsh glow through the paper-thin curtains of their living room. To avoid being momentarily blinded, Jess refrained from looking up, instead focusing his attention on the worn copy of Naked Lunch in his hands. The words on the coffee-stained page blurred together, creating an incoherent jumble that he couldn't decipher. But he kept his attention to the novel in hopes of distracting himself from his worry.
Worry. There's a concept. He was currently worrying about another person.
This past month had been full of firsts.
Before he could begin over-analyzing his current, pathetic state, the door opened roughly, slamming against the wall behind it. He jumped up, not startled by the sound, but relieved. A muffled Dammit drifted to the living room as Rory threw her purse and keys down right on the worn hard wood. Looking up, she stopped, surprised and embarrassed that he had witnessed the beginnings of a patented Gilmore breakdown.
Right. So this is what it was like living with someone.
"Sorry. Long day," she threw her hands up as way of explanation.
"No luck?" he asked softly.
Trying her best to sound upbeat, she replied, "Not yet."
She made a half circle into the kitchen and poured herself a cool glass of water. He followed, leaning his elbows back against the counter.
"You know," he began, "if you ever need some time to yourself or anything, feel free to kick me out."
She turned to face him, confused, but intrigued. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, this is a tiny apartment. If I'm ever in your way, or if you ever just want to be alone, tell me. I can take off for a few hours."
She smiled, "I'll keep that in mind. And the same goes for me."
"Oh, I have no problem banishing you to the streets," he shrugged, his smirk betraying his serious tone.
Rory set her cup down and skipped the short distance across the kitchen. Hopping directly in front of him, she stopped, placing her hands on his shoulders and kissing him soundly.
"You're crazy," he murmured against her lips.
"You love it," she replied.
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Later that night, after a passionate display in the kitchen and another in the bedroom, they lay tangled together on top of the sheets. Jess slept soundly, his face buried in her neck. Rory, once again, lay awake, restlessness sweeping over her as she counted the headlights as they swept across the off-white ceiling.
74
Deciding that 74 was as good a number as any, she turned her gaze away from the ceiling and to the sleeping form next to her.
"Jess."
Doing his best to ignore her, he chose not to stir. But she knew he had heard her.
"Jess, wake up," she tried again.
"Why?" he finally groaned.
"Because I'm awake, and I don't want to be awake alone," she explained.
He opened his eyes and shifted next to her, shooting her a pleading glance. "I'm tired," he whined.
Shaking her head in mock indifference, she continued, "Guess what I did today."
Jess sighed and pulled her closer, settling into the soft cotton. He dismissed the fact that he had to be at work in four hours and instead welcomed the idea of running on no sleep.
"Do I really have to guess?"
"Nope. I'll tell ya'," she poked at his chest with her index finger.
"Well?" he yawned.
"I sent my mom a post card."
(That woke him up).
She looked away as she continued, "I know it's not a lot, but I figured it's better than nothing. To let her know that I'm okay and everything."
"Good."
"The one I sent her had a picture of the Guggenheim on it. The Empire State Building ones are so overrated, dontcha think?"
He nodded in agreement, "Definitely."
"I think she'll like it. She's not a big museum person, but I think she'll like it," she paused. "Well, I liked it. God, I should've picked out something she'd like."
"Hey, she'll love it."
Rory's heart sank. "No, she won't. She hates museums."
Jess raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Has she ever been to one?"
"Yes. When she was 10, she went on this field trip to one. And everyone had to buddy up and hold hands so they wouldn't get lost, and she got stuck with Bud Fry, who picked his nose."
"Bud Fry?"
"Not the point."
"Sorry."
"She hates museums," she finished.
"Rory," he took a moment to push her hair away from her face, making her look at him. "She'll love the post card."
"You think?" she asked hopefully.
"She'll just be glad to hear from you."
"Yeah," she agreed.
His expression became somber, and his eyes clouded over as an internal battle began. "Can I ask you a question?" He seemed almost timid, a side of him she'd never seen before.
"Of course."
"Why didn't you just call her?" He left the question dangling, no follow up, no clarification, no speculation. It hovered above them, waiting to be answered.
(Rory hesitated).
"She'd probably yell," she stumbled.
"Are you afraid she'd talk you into going back?" he put it bluntly.
(Rory didn't hesitate).
"No. I'm here for good, Jess. I...this is something I need to do on my own. That means no interference from her."
"But she's your mom."
"I just need to do this," she assured him confidently.
"Okay."
She smiled up at him, kissing his nose, then snuggling into his chest.
"Thanks for talkin' with me," she whispered sleepily.
He kissed her head with a quiet Yeah as she drifted off to sleep.
1, 2. 3...
Now he was the one counting headlights.
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The next day, Lorelai walked into the diner with a spring in her step. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, and not at all in a mocking way. No, instead, they were conducive to her mood. The inn, although only having been open for a few weeks, was thriving. Consequently, Sookie was cooking the best food of her life, and even Michel had been pleasant as of late. No further contact with her parents had been made, and she hadn't even had to change her phone number.
There had been a few awkward run-ins with Dean, but she was two weeks in the clear. Plus, she'd had a Quentin Tarentino marathon last weekend, and the thought of dismembering him in various, violent ways brought a smile to her face.
All in all, things were good.
Could they be better? Well, yes. But she chose not to focus on that. Denial had always been her specialty.
"Morning, Luke." She reached the counter and stood on her tip toes to bring her lips to his.
(Having been out on six dates, they were able to kiss in public).
Another reason she was so chipper: things with Luke were amazing. They'd gone to dinner and the movies and even a baseball game. Lorelai had shouted obscenities at the umpire the entire time, resulting in a rather inappropriate gesture from the field. After that, she resorted on throwing stale popcorn at him. Luke did his best to stop her, but she caught the amused expression he tried to hide.
"Are we still on for tonight?" he questioned while pouring her a cup of coffee.
"Hmm...tonight? Ooh, no can do. I have a date with Julio tonight. Gosh darn the luck. I really must work on my scheduling abilities. Or lack there of."
"Pick you up at eight?"
She nodded, "Yeah, Julio and I should be done by then."
Luke's smile fell into a frustrated frown as his gaze shifted past his girlfriend's shoulders. Lorelai noticed the change and swiveled on the stool to look through the diner windows.
Kirk, followed by countless townies, marched with determination towards the diner.
"I'm locking the doors," Luke decided, moving around the counter.
"Don't bother. We're outnumbered," Lorelai grinned.
"You find that sight funny?"
She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "'Little bit."
Before Luke could even begin to try to understand her logic, the bell above the door chimed as a dozen patrons entered.
"Lorelai," Kirk began in the most official tone he could muster, "I have something for you." Without waiting for a response, he took a post card out of his mailbag and held it out for her to take.
Caught off guard, Lorelai sat there, simply looking at it. After almost four weeks of nothing...there it was. From Rory.
A real postcard with a stamp on it like she's half-way across the world.
She thought she'd see her hand shaking when she finally reached out for it, but it was steady. A picture of some sort of museum adorned the front with tourists walking in and out. One of them had a dog on a red leash.
She didn't know why she noticed that.
Turning it over, her daughter's flowing script appeared in two concise lines. Nothing more.
"Did you read this?" Lorelai questioned.
"Of course not!" Kirk replied, offended, "We take an oath!"
"What does it say, sugar? Is she alright?" Babette piped up from the back.
Mmm-hmm was all Lorelai could bring herself to say.
She thinks that's when Luke ushered everyone out of the diner. Everything around moved all fast, the only steadiness in the room being the words on the small piece of cardboard.
Sorry it took me so long to write. I'm in New York with Jess. We're doing really well.
I hope you don't hate me.
She hadn't signed it.
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He left feeling good about himself. Sure, Lorelai was shocked, but he thought that the news was best delivered right away. It had already been so long, why make her wait in agony another second?
Kirk Gleason: Bringing people together, one post card at a time.
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Notes: Bud Fry is not a made up name. My grandma went to kindergarten with a kid named Bud Fry. :) Just so you know...lol! I hope you liked this; I know it was a long time coming. If you took the time to read, please spare a few more moments to review! I'd really appreciate it. :D
Thanks for reading.