Chapter 10
I woke up with a throbbing pain in my head. It sounded like Tommy Lee was playing a solo on his circular drumming track. It was going around and around. I couldn't believe I was still wearing the same clothes I had on last night. My mouth felt as though someone had shoved thirty cotton balls in it. The bright sun shone across my bed, causing the pain in my head to intensify as soon as I opened my eyes. I saw the mascara smear on my duvet cover and could only imagine that my make-up looked like Tammy Fay Baker's after a good cry. There was a small, wet spot where my mouth had hung open all night. It helped create my own version of the Shroud of Turin. My hair felt matted flat to the side of my head. I removed the strands stuck to my cheek and the side of my mouth. Why I let him encourage me to drink more last night is beyond me, I thought.
I went into the bathroom in search of water and something to dull the knife stabbing me in the side of the head. Although, the more I moved around, the more the pain turned into a skewer running through each ear. It's as if my head were on a spit. Thank God it's not spinning! I opened the medicine cabinet and found some ibuprofen. I swallowed them down with an entire glass of water. I took a good look at myself in the mirror. I felt worse than I actually looked. My body just didn't recover as easily as it did in my twenties, or thirties for that matter. After I brushed my hair, that was only slightly matted, I cleaned the smeared make-up off my face. Then I threw my hair into a ponytail and changed out of last evening's attire.
The aroma of coffee wafted into my room. Richard must have made some. I'm glad I taught him the most important part of the morning, I thought. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a large mug of the sweet nectar. Oh, crap! It's nearly lunch, I exclaimed silently as I looked at the clock on the coffee maker. It's a good thing I hadn't intended on getting anything done today, I lamented to myself. I grabbed some pop tarts and sat at the table. The pastry crumbled in my mouth, leaving it drier than before. Definitely not a good choice for hangover food, I thought.
"I could really go for some tacos," I mumbled audibly without realizing. I knew I didn't have the same power as my mom had in Stars Hollow. She could call in an order and have it delivered despite the fact they didn't normally do deliveries. There were no places close enough to even consider tacos as a cure for my hangover. I took a large drink of my coffee to help wash away the extra dry feeling the pop tarts left in my mouth.
"I can go get you some, Mom," Richard replied with a chuckle. Of course, my son would do anything to help me, and all I did in return was set a bad example for him. I'm sure there were much worse lessons I could teach him besides proper hangover food.
"No, Mommy is all sunshine and lollipops today," I retorted with sarcasm. I flashed a big, fake smile.
"I saw you passed out on top of your covers," he said knowingly. I must not have shut my door last night, but I could have sworn I did. He must have checked on me this morning when I wasn't up at my normal time.
"If you must know, yes, I'm hungover. Happy now?"
"Did you learn your lesson?"
"I'll be learning my lesson most of the day. Let this also be a lesson to you!" I warned with a slight grin. I hoped I'd never have to take care of him like my mom did with me. He seemed to have a pretty solid head on his shoulders, but we all do stupid things.
"And what lesson would that be?" he replied with a smirk.
It's times like this that Richard really reminds me of his father, I thought. It also made me miss Logan at the same time.
"I'll assume that was a rhetorical question," I replied jokingly.
"Mom, I've seen you way more drunk than last night. Remember celebrating Founder's Day in Stars Hollow a few years ago?" he reminded me with a smirk. "On a more serious note, how was dinner last night?"
He was right. That was the last year Miss Patty made her infamous punch, and fortunately for him, he'd never have to experience its effects. I recall I'd been very intoxicated, and Lane managed to keep me under control, but not without a fight. Thankfully, we were staying at my mom's that night and she had taken him home before my big performance. She made a special call in the morning for a round of tacos, but the hangover lingered far longer than it did when I was in my twenties. Luckily, this one was far less painful than that episode.
"Overall, I think it went fairly well. We hashed through some things, and while I don't think he and I are beyond all of our personal issues, he did express interest in getting to know you better," I answered. I couldn't tell him that I was trying to read every single detail of the evening, and by the end, was no closer to figuring out how he felt about me than I was at the beginning of the night. I think having him back in my life was confusing to me. I honestly thought I was over him, but maybe I never got a fair chance to do that. Ultimately, I did take his genuine interest in the situation as a good sign. It seemed as if he wanted to know more about his son, and it wasn't because of me. He owed me nothing and certainly wasn't doing it to appease me.
"Really?" he asked excitedly. I knew this was something he'd desperately wanted for a long time.
"Yes, and he mentioned something about getting together with you this weekend," I said. "Oh, crap! I forgot to give him your number to set that up."
"Did he say what he had in mind?" he replied curiously.
"Dinner, I think, but it's up to you two," I said and changed the subject. "How was your night?"
"It was pretty good. Vivienne came over, but I'm guessing you already knew that," he said. I nodded my head in agreement. "We had movie night, and talked. She hounded me about the identity of my father."
"I'm sorry to have to put you in that awkward position, but when I told you, I didn't know you were friends. I didn't even know she existed at that point. I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for you."
"I couldn't tell her, and I'm not sure how long I can hold her off," he explained. If she's anything like her father, holding her off is merely a temporary thing, I thought.
"Honestly, I think it's best if Logan tells her," I admitted. I didn't want him to have to deliver this kind of news to her. It's not his job. It's mine or Logan's, as the parent. I couldn't help but feel very guilty about all of this. I hated that I put my son in this situation in the first place, but I should have known it would call come back to bite me in the ass one day.
"I agree. The news would be weird coming from me. Things would be very awkward," he agreed as he glanced at the clock. "Oh, no! I've got a lesson at the club at one!"
I could see the panic spread across his face and the wheels turning in his head making a list of all of the things that needed to be done before he left for work. He shot out of his chair at the table and grabbed his water bottle to refill. He slipped it into his bag and threw on some shoes.
"Don't let me keep you. I'll call and make sure he's got your number," I replied reassuringly. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to hear Logan's voice again. It made me incredibly nervous and soothed me at the same time. There were so many times of the last eighteen years that I longed to hear his voice tell me things would be ok. It was usually when things were really crazy and I yearned for a partner with whom I could share the responsibility. Then I'd remember that it was my own fault for being alone, and shoved him to the back of my mind.
"Bye, Mom - and thank you! I really appreciate all you've done for me with this!"
"It was my thing, so there's no need to thank me. You deserve to know; he deserved to know," I said solemnly. I felt another pang of guilt for keeping them apart, but I really thought it was for the best.
He grabbed his bag and helmet as he nearly flew out the door. I heard him start up his motorcycle after the garage door opened. It closed a minute later. I dreaded making the phone call to Logan. I was starting to feel like I did when I first called him to hang out. Maybe he's reconsidering things now that he's not under the influence of alcohol, I thought. I could just text him the number, but that felt so cold. I wanted to hear his voice. I'd missed that voice for all of these years. Why did all of these feelings resurface? I wondered. I hadn't thought of him in a romantic way in so long, and now, he's all I can think of.
I bit the bullet and found his number on my phone. I hit call before I could even stop to rethink everything. Where did this boldness come from? I questioned myself. My thought was interrupted by the voice on the other end.
"Hello, Ace," he said as he answered my call. I was second-guessing my brazen choice, and hoping it would go to voicemail.
"Hi, Logan," I greeted him nervously. I think I felt more nervous than I did seeing him in person last night.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked sounding as if he were flirting with me. I felt myself melting.
Well, it doesn't sound like he's changed his mind, I thought.
"I realized I had forgotten to give you Richard's number last night," I replied with my lame excuse to hear his voice. There was a long pause on his end. What on earth could he be thinking? Maybe he really didn't want to know his son, I wondered.
"You could have just texted it to me, Ace," he replied.
My heart sank. Oh. That was definitely not what I expected. Maybe I was reading into things a little too much. Was I throwing myself at him like a drunken bimbo last night? I thought I remembered things fairly well, and while I may have flirted more than I should, I certainly didn't throw myself at him, I thought. The panic subsided when I realized he was calling my bluff. He knew that I knew I could have just sent him a message with the number, but I called instead. He knows me better than just about anyone except my mom, and maybe, Paris.
"I wanted to make sure you got it. That's all," I replied trying to cover, but I knew it wouldn't work. I quickly gave him the number and he repeated it back to me. "That's correct."
"Look, I hate to do this, but I've gotta go. I've got a meeting in a few minutes," he said excusing himself from talking to me anymore.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to bother you at work. I just wanted to make sure I got you his number before I forgot," I replied feeling a little defeated at the brevity of our conversation.
"It's ok, you don't have to apologize," he answered and I could hear his smile though the phone. I felt a little relieved.
"Have fun at your meeting."
"Thanks, he replied with a chuckle. "We can talk more later. Bye, Ace!"
"Ok, bye, Logan," I said and ended the call. I had a smile on my face from ear to ear. At least he wasn't mad or seemed to be bothered by it. He did say he'd talk to me later. Was that a line to end the call, or was he being serious? I hoped it was the latter, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. It could just be him trying to be nice, I thought.
I needed to talk to someone who could help me out because I couldn't make heads or tails out of the situation. The list in my head was a jumbled mess with no clear path. Things had been just fine until he came back into my life. Life had been so simple without him. What the hell am I going to do? I asked myself. I needed some clarity, so I called my mom.
"Hello, my favorite daughter! How may I serve you?" she said to greet me.
"Hi, Mom! How are things in the Hollow?"
"They're good. So, why are you stalling? Just tell mommy what's on your mind," she replied calling me out.
"How -"
"Rory, I have known you your whole life. You're half me! You can't hide anything from me. I'll figure it out. You want to know why?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me no matter which answer I give," I retorted.
"Because I've taught you all of my techniques. I know each time you're lying, stalling, or avoiding. You hardly ever ask about Stars Hollow right off the bat, and I've been known to use a similar stalling technique myself. And, for the record, using your Bambi voice is always a dead giveaway. So, what gives?"
I didn't even realize I was using that voice. My mother is very good, and I don't know how I ever thought I'd be able to fool her.
"I was just trying to work up to it a little bit so I didn't become that person who only calls when they want something or want to complain."
"Too late," Mom quipped.
"Really, Mom?"
"Rory -"
"Ok, fine. I told Richard that Logan is his father," I blurted out. I hadn't really filled her in on the details of everything because I'd been so caught up in my own drama.
"You did? How did he take it?" she asked curiously.
"Fairly well, but, as expected, things are complicated," I replied. I really didn't want to get into the particulars on the phone. There's just so much to talk about, and I prefer to be able to read a person's nonverbal rather than rely solely on their vocal tone. I like to have the whole picture. Besides, it was an excuse for some comfort food from Luke's.
"I'm going to stop you right there. You're going to need to go back to the beginning, Tarantino. I need the whole picture. And action!"
"This isn't a movie. It's real life," I replied in a serious tone.
"What? I can't have a little comic relief to lighten this overly dramatic moment?"
"I was thinking I'd come visit you. That is, if you aren't too busy."
"You're going to make me wait to hear all about this?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yes, I am. That's what you get for trying to be a comedian!"
"You just don't appreciate my witty comebacks."
"I'll see you in about an hour or so," I replied. "Bye, Mom."
"Bye, Kid," she said.
I hung up and started getting ready. I changed my clothes and put on minimal make-up. I didn't need to be mocked for wearing yoga pants and an old Yale hoodie. I grabbed my keys on the way out the door. I opened the garage door and got into my car. Why is the seat setting wrong? I couldn't be Richard because he hates my car, and he's got his own, I thought. Then, it dawned on me. I'd left my car at the restaurant last night, but how did it get here? I wondered, but I shouldn't have. It's got Logan written all over it. He was still the reigning king of perfect gestures, whether he knew it or not. Why didn't he say something when I called earlier? I asked myself. I sent him a text to confirm.
Rory: You didn't have to bring my car back.
Logan: I didn't, but I felt bad for encouraging you to drink all of that wine last night.
Rory: Good point, but it's not is if I wasn't willing.
Oh, great! That came out wrong! Now, I just sound easy! He doesn't need to know that I would have done that last night, I chastised myself.
Logan: I thought that's what you were calling about before.
Rory: Why didn't you say something?
Logan: And spoil the surprise? No way!
Rory: Didn't Richard notice you?
Logan: It was pretty early. I didn't want to disturb anyone.
Rory: I guess I'm trying to say thank you for being so kind. It saves me the embarrassment of having to pick it up.
Logan: You are welcome, Ace.
Wow, he did not have to do that. He was always good with a gesture, I thought. Despite the butterflies, I decided not to dwell on it much more right now. I needed to concentrate on driving to Stars Hollow to see my mom. I sent a quick text to Richard to let him know where I was going, and not to expect me home for dinner. I readjusted the seat and set out for Mom's.
