Lorelei had never liked the color gray. It lacked the definitive nature of black and white and instead resided somewhere in the undetermined in between. It was drab and lifeless. Gray was the bastard stepbrother of the flashier silver but held none of its appealing sparkle or shine. It was the dull, ominous color of heavy storm clouds just before they burst and drenched those unlucky enough to be without an umbrella, the color of matter reduced to nothing but ash, minerals compressed by eons of pressure into slabs of cold granite. It was a color that made no bones about its preference for the lachrymose. Perhaps it was no mistake then that this particular Saturday had dawned so wan and gray that it appeared that even the eternally optimistic Mr. Sun was too depressed to come out and play.
It was the kind of day that would have been better spent hiding under the covers in the fetal position with nothing but the TV remote and an unhealthy quantity of cheese flavored snack foods and coffee as company. She would have down exactly that too if her still sleep clouded mind hadn't started to process the unpleasant racket that had awakened her quite precipitously from dreams of far distant lands where hot Latin men in Speedos were serving her iced coffee drinks in shelled out coconuts under a sky that was decidedly far distant on the spectrum form the gray doldrums of winter.
She was quite sure the sound that had flown her on wings of displeasure from the warm golden sands to the skin prickling morning chill of December in Connecticut had not been the familiar annoying voice of Hello Kitty but by the distinctive squeal of metal hinges screaming for a new coating of WD40 and heavy objects being dragged with much protestation across rough terrain.
She had fleeting thoughts of burglars or rodents of unusual size or maddened livestock but she suspected that these were simply the products of an overactive imagination and a cumulative sleep deprivation that would have made Nathaniel Kleitman roll in his grave. She glared out at the ashen lackluster sky that reminded her of a gray pearl scraped free of its sheen and cursed the likely suspect guilty of this early rousing. Not even roosters were up at this hour and few members of the human race were either.
Personally she would rather be numbered among the oblivious masses still tucked snuggle into dreamland. She hated mornings...if you could even call this time of day morning. It was more aptly named the sleeping hour, to be seceded only after a respectful amount of time by the waking hour.
Unfortunately blissful slumber was slipping farther and farther from her grasp as the intruder continued his cacophonous concert below. She was contemplating the distance to the bottom of the stairs and out the front door and how many pillows she would have to carry with her to suffocate her intrepid morning visitor when the bothersome whine of hinges segued into the rumble of an engine and the grind of tires as they spit gravel in the wake of their hasty retreat. Silence fell over the morning like a sound proof shroud being thrown over the stillness her bedroom and she sighed in relief and let her head sink back into the down of her warm pillow.
She hoped for the return of the dream paradise but gave up on continued repose when her closed eyelids yielded only images of the suspected boat stealing marauder complete with backwards baseball cap, flannel shirt and accusing eyes. . If forced to choose between premature wakefulness and remorse-laden dreams then getting an early jump start on the day seemed the lesser of two evils. She personally enjoyed her guilt served cold and preferably after coffee.
She was showered, dressed and had her second cup of the aforementioned elixir tightly in hand an hour later as she made a dash for the car between snowflakes and slammed the jeep door shut. She resolutely kept her eyes busy with menial tasks, juggling purse, coffee cup and keys with experienced ease. She didn't need to look at the garage to know that it was now empty; she figured she didn't own too many things that a person would feel obliged to show up at five am with a pickup truck to steal. She preferred not to inspect the gaping maw of the structure too closely afraid that emptiness would swallow her whole like Jonas and the whale. She would look later, maybe after a couple of Tequila shots when it would seem hilariously funny that her ex-boyfriend had just snuck in at five in the morning like a thief in the very early morning and absconded with his boat.
She almost made it out of the driveway but her traitorous eyes betrayed her, flitting past the gaping doors for a brief glimpse and then drawing back to that empty expanse with a temerity that was echoed by her obstinate foot that froze in it's position inches from the gas pedal and seemed disinclined to venture further. It was a perverse insubordination that had her eyes glued to the scene of the crime. It was a quandary to be sure, battling heart with brain and the neurons were fired several times like warning shots across a silent field of battle before the mental commands won out.
She drove at first on autopilot her mind flitting past emotions that surfaced in quick succession from the depths. The ugly truth brought to light by the moment was hard to ignore, despite her tough facade and repeated mantra of 'I'm fine' she was far from that promised land and regardless of a worthy effort she knew with a sinking heart that repetitive vocalizations of such aphorisms wouldn't make them true. If fine was the goal she was shooting a consistent zero and the other team, whoever they might be was batting a thousand. She pondered that jumbling of sports analogies for a moment but shrugged it off, obviously even her much applauded mental encyclopedia of references couldn't stand up to a serious lack of sleep and a mortally wounded heart.
It had been a month, an excruciating month that felt like the movie Groundhog Day played at half speed. Punishment for a deed done wrong that required that she relive the same routine over and over with no reprieve, no escape, and no clear path back to the road that she had so mindlessly skipped off of in pursuit of long lost dreams. She imagined it was a little like Chinese water torture and was slowly but surely driving her to the brink of madness.
Aside from that night after the wedding she had not spoken to Luke, they had seen each other; of course, such was the eternal curse of a sleepy little burg such as theirs. There was no hiding or avoiding because all roads led back to Main Street and the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker and in this case the diner owner all resided within bare steps of each other. That being said it was with amazing alacrity or perhaps pure prideful obstinacy that they had somehow managed despite these frequent unfortunate meetings to limit their interaction to mere monosyllabic responses and screamed body language; hers pleading for forgiveness and his denying the comfort of absolution.
Originally she thought that the first day would be the worst, that after the initial sting of hurt, despair and anger it would all become numb, and eventually acceptance would come. Convention taught that it hurt less the faster you ripped the band-aid off so she figured she could just extrapolate that truism to apply to a broken heart.
It might even have worked eventually; unfortunately that was where the omnipresent townspeople came in. They clearly had no intention of letting sleeping dogs lie, in fact she was all but certain that they had held a secret town meeting and voted that if anyone were to spy said sleeping dogs they were to kick them awake with a less than friendly boot to the rump. Sleeping dogs were the scourges of Taylor's well-kept town.
This time around the proverbial boots were in the shape of ribbons, blue and pink ribbons to be exact. Classically overused symbols for the eternal chasm between the sexes and worn as signs of supposed allegiance in a town that had suddenly become bipartisan activists in a personal war.
In the days since the Breakup...an event now spoken of in stage whispers that implied italics and quotes and big bold letters in the scripts that all were reading from, those ribbons had been procreating like wild rabbits, popping up to adorn buildings and people and even the occasional unfortunate animal. Just yesterday Lulu's poor dog had been seen wearing a pink bow that threatened to engulf its tiny head and smother it in its sleep. They were insidious, like a virus or a parasite and they all stemmed from one source... ground zero...Stars Hollow's very own maven of misfortune, the champion of calamity, the king of I told you so...Taylor Doose.
She been driving with habitual movements around the curves of the town square but was shocked out of her reverie and slammed on her brakes in the middle of the street still a block from the town's only stoplight when she saw the boat. Then that wayward foot lightened it's press slightly and the jeep crept towards this newest visage. It was sitting innocently at the curb in front of Luke's diner as if it had always resided there and something about it's familiar shape so out of it's element set adrift amidst the gray mounds of dirty snow made her want to cry.
Then she saw the ribbon, a seemingly innocuous slip of blue plastic that hung slightly off center from the bow of the boat. An insult heaped upon injury that transformed sadness to rage and that turned tears to threats of vengeance muttered through clenched teeth.
Lorelai felt her blood heating and her knuckles going white on the steering wheel as she killed the car engine in the middle of the street outside Doose's Market.
Inside she seethed. Yes, she had screwed up. Yes, she was a horrible person but even horrible people deserved some chance of rehabilitation. Why was it that she was not to be given the normal mourning period to withdraw and wallow but instead was forced to deal every day in every corner with public humiliation, constant reminders of the stupidity of her actions and all that they had cost her. Why couldn't they just grow lives of their own and let she and Luke work things out or not in their own time?
She almost welcomed the surge of anger, better to feel homicidal than comatose, better to ride on that wave of sheer rage created by frustration than to drown paralyzed as it sucked you back into the abyss of loneliness where your only company was the nagging voice in your head that told you this mess was entirely of your own making. What she needed was a good old fashioned knock 'em down, drag 'em out brawl, nothing more likely to cleanse the spirit and what better target than the current thorn in her side. A good Taylor squashing was just what the doctor ordered.
It was time for a showdown at the SH Corral. She slammed out of her car and stalked with angry strides toward the swinging glass door with battle lust whipping in her blood. The townspeople were going to need a vat of Gorilla Glue to put their Humpty Dumpty back together again by the time she was finished with him.
Rory was feeling good. She had two cups of coffee revving nicely in her system and her third in hand as she settled into a seat in the nearly deserted student center. Now she had a nice uninterrupted two hours to look over her notes one more time.
She stuck her hand in the bag beside her to pull out her neatly organized notes but ended up fishing for her cell phone instead when it began to sing it's merry tune. She pulled it out with a sigh and considered the small caller id screen contemplating whether she wanted to let it ring or answer it and give up some of her precious review time. It was her mom. Her mom who knew she had a final this morning... she gnawed her lip but finally answered hoping for the soul of brevity and mere well wishes for the test.
"This had better be good, I've already started my last final count down."
"Like you need more time...I'm sure you've memorized every page of those notes forwards and backwards, I bet you could give Rainman a run for his money in recitation skills." Lorelai sounded chipper, too chipper, the forced kind of chipper that reminded her of the small talk portion of Friday night dinners.
Rory sighed... it appeared the soul of brevity was busy taking other calls on this particular morning. "Thanks for the vote of confidence mom, I think for the sake of time I'll take that as a compliment."
"As you should my little Hermione, as you should." Her tone held what might be laughter or tears or incipient hysteria, it was hard sometimes to distinguish between them.
"Did those nuts at Westin's spike your coffee this morning? You sound a little odd." Rory's brow furrowed slightly as she hunted for a reason that her mom would be this riled this early in the morning.
"No, I didn't have coffee at Westin's today and unless a little green man snuck in and left some of his liquid gold in the coffee pot I assure you I am unfortunately stone cold sober. Not that this morning I would have turned down a good wallop of the old Irish...wait that's whiskey isn't it? How about some Pirate's Booty then."
"Pirate's Booty? Do I even want to ask what you are talking about?" Rory's tone had taken on a note of perplexity.
"It's called improvisation my dear. Silly me I didn't have the colloquial name for Rum wandering around in my brain but pirates are always drinking it in the movies so I figured that would work for now."
"I think I heard it called Nelson's Blood once." Rory said in a thoughtful tone before she admonished herself for encouraging this tangent.
"Well I don't know Nelson from Blackbeard but it sounds like a passable pirate name so it works for me." Lorelai paused as if contemplating this trivia " Just for curiosity's sake with whom were you having in depth discussions about the more colorful names of alcoholic beverages?"
"I'll give you one guess." Rory said relieved to hear a tiny bit the edginess leave her mother's voice.
"Ah, the immortal Finn strikes again." There was a small but gratifying laugh at this.
"I've learned to only half listen to what he says, too much information is an understatement sometimes with him. So, are you going to tell me why you are busy placing your bar order at 10 am or are we going to continue to circle the point of this call?" Rory asked with an eye glancing at her watch. She was worried about her mom but she really needed to study.
Lorelai's tone took on a mournful quality "Is it really only ten a.m.? It feels like a Mesolithic period has passed since I woke up this morning."
"Bad morning huh?" Rory asked now slightly curious as to what had engendered this level of melodrama this early in the morning.
"Think Blitz, Gettysburg, Custer's Last Stand, Pearl Harbor and I think you're on the right page of history."
"You're very militant today." Rory said with a slight smile.
"What can I say I just took on Hitler, Napoleon, Robespierre, Mussolini, Stalin and Mao all rolled into one...oh and throw in Cheney just for good measure, and Rupert Murdoch and Roger Alies... they're definitively in on the whole fascist conspiracy, and I have my suspicions about that Ray Romano guy."
Rory rolled her eyes but quipped back "What do you have against Raymond? Everyone loves Raymond,"
Lorelai's tone had lightened slightly as she pounced on this remark "Exactly my point, I mean come on, I don't care if the guy is kind of goofy and funny... not EVERYONE can love Raymond...he's good though... sneaky, perfect all American spy for the right wing nutcases."
Rory just chuckled but then looked back at her book bag and heard the tick of the invisible clock in her brain counting down to lift off "Is there a point to this diatribe? Much as I love starting my day with discussions of right wing nutcases I kind of have some notes calling my name."
"Hearing voices again eh Babe...you ought to get that checked out. I hear Yale frowns on voices in your head, I think they suspect them of giving you the answers...a whole new twist on cheating on a test. Besides I'm multitasking, doing my motherly duty and distracting you from counting your highlighters again and double sharpening all your pencils. The other kids don't like over achievers, they might gang up and lynch you or turn you into a hairy little rodent or something."
Rory sighed melodramatically "I believe we've been over this before. For the last time, this is not Hogwarts."
Lorelai had on her pouty voice now "It'd be so much better if it was though. Just think how much fun it would be if you had a Whomping Willow. I'm always a fan of vicious bloodthirsty flora, gives new meaning to the term natural selection."
Rory rolled her eyes but continued "No, this is no magic academy, this is Yale and I fit right in at Yale, I think there is even a class called Overachieving 101. I'm pretty sure it says in the by laws that if you are a type B personality they automatically deduct half a point from your grade point average."
Lorelai gave a tiny chuckle "Right, sorry I forgot, California's got the OC crowd, Yale's got the OCD crowd. Please by all means proceed with the pencil sharpening, better to stab fellow achievers with should they ask to borrow you highlighter or commit some other similarly heinous act of lunacy. Now back to my crisis."
"You're not going away until you tell me the story are you?" Rory asked with some exasperation.
"Give me ten minutes... I promise you won't regret it." Lorelai cajoled.
"Fine Aesop the stage is yours but I'm timing you."
Lorelai gasped, "Mean."
"Nine minutes and fifty five seconds." Rory singsonged as she leaned back on the small couch to listen to the engaging tale of her mother's battle with the less than benevolent town father "Okay so you have your moment of enlightenment, decide that Taylor is to blame for all the suffering in Stars Hollow and set of to do your re-enactment of the The Quick and the Dead."
Lorelai continued with "I was locked and loaded ready to throw down the gauntlet. I head for the door at a stomp conveniently forgetting that my new black boots although the height of fashion coolness are not the greatest footwear for inclement weather. Life lesson, if you are going to have a shoot out don't wear heels."
"Duly noted."
"So after I picked my now snow covered derriere up off the sidewalk I finally manage to make it across the sidewalk to the market. or the Fuhrerbunker as I know chose to think of it. Suffice it to say I think my irritation at that point had reached inferno level...imagine Mt. St. Helens on May 18th 1980 at about 8:30 am and you have yourself a pretty good idea of my incipient fire power. "
"I wouldn't have wanted to be in the path of your eruption." Rory spoke from experience.
"I went with a grand entrance and slammed through the door with a crash like Curly Bill Brocious looking for Wyatt Earp.'
"That must have been a crowd pleaser." Rory said in a wry tone as she slurped hot coffee while attempting not to scald her tongue.
"Well there was a smattering of applause but the crowd was awfully quiet, like maybe my head spun around a little and they were all afraid to get too close to me."
Rory nodded sagely to herself "Well you can be scary when you're in vengeance demon mode. I've seen grown men cry at the sight."
"Anyhoo, I go crashing in, guns blazing so to speak and Taylor is behind his counter holding court until he sees me and then I swear his eyes got as big as watermelons and he looked like he was looking for a place to hide. I would have laughed if I hadn't wanted to skin him alive. He was probably smart to start looking for an escape route."
"Undoubtedly." Rory said between sips.
"Your vote of confidence is overwhelming. So, then with my incredible powers of observation I suddenly notice that he is attempting to hide something that he has clutched in his little rodent hands and what do you think it is but the incriminating evidence right there under my nose."
Rory gave a little gasp "No."
"Yes. A box of the damn multihued little buggers in the flesh... or, well I guess in the plastic would be the appropriate term although it feels like they've been constructed with a pound of my flesh." Lorelai's tone dripped self-pity.
"Creepy imagery you should go to work for Stephen King. So what did you do?"
"Well my friend I did what any self respecting vengeance demon would do, I grabbed the box of course. He wasn't giving up his prize so easily though and pretty soon I found myself nose to nose with him over a box of stupid pink and blue ribbons. I put on my best I'm going to scoop out your eyes with a dull spoon and eat them for lunch if you don't hand over the contraband voice..."
"Ooh that is a scary one."
"Thanks, so anyway I look him straight in his beady little eyes and I say 'Taylor if you want to remain standing and in possession of all your parts you are going to give me the ribbons... now.'"
Rory replied in an announcers voice as if weighing the quality of the words "Vaguely graphic yet succinct, I give it a 9."
"I've always found that threats are more successful if you don't' mince words but threaten to mince body parts. I think he was dutifully impressed but it didn't' seem to stop him completely because then he sucks in a breath like he's not quite ready to give up his position on the pulpit as the self-proclaimed authority on annihilation of the human spirit and he wants to make a row of it and I'm secretly praying for just that because I'm thinking that squishing Taylor's head until his little eyes pop out of his head might be a rather cathartic way to end this little scuffle, then we can bury him with the ribbons and put the whole sordid thing to rest.."
"You are the queen of catharsis." Rory said in an admiring tone.
"I've got a scepter and a crown and everything. Given the story to this point you'd think that good old Taylor would see a losing battle and run like the lily livered erstwhile bully that he is but apparently all those day of watching Oprah have convinced him that he's some sort of town doctor so he continues this line of conversation with a trite retort and says 'Don't take your misplaced anger out on me Lorelai'" Lorelai did an amusing impression of Taylor at his whiniest.
Rory laughed but then admonished playfully "I don't think that Taylor actually sounds like Shenzi the hyena in Lion King."
"Not far off though right? He and Whoopi, practically voice twins."
"I don't know, I've always thought he sounded more like a cross between Mr. Rogers and that annoying guy on Seinfeld." Rory's voice went a little analytical.
"Which one?" Lorelai asked in a curious voice as if seriously picturing the mating of these two characters.
"George."
Lorelai chuckled at the mental image that created. "Oh, now that is good, you know I'd never considered that pairing but you could be onto something."
Rory shook her head a little at her mom's wackiness but then caught sight of the minute hand on her watch. "Times up Mr. Henley. I'd so love to hear the rest of this story but I sort have to study for this silly little thing called a final. You know I have pencils to sharpen, highlighters to count. Can I get the rest of the play by play later?"
Lorelai sighed dramatically but the relented "Duty calls and when duty calls at Yale I hear he is very strict if you don't' answer his summons."
Rory's tone was on the serious side "That is very true. Thanks for the distraction. A little final exam is sounding like a cake walk compared to your morning... and you might be right about that whole double sharpening thing."
"Mmmm... cake. Gee thanks, you made me hungry again. Now you'll just have to wait to hear what I said to Luke."
"Luke was there? You didn't mention Luke was there." Rory's interest was peaked again.
Lorelai's tone turned breezy "Not my fault, you were the one with the hook who interrupted me mid-fable. We were just getting to the worst part. Too bad your time is up. Now you will just have to wait. Happy number crunching babe. You'll be home tonight?" Lorelai's tone was a tiny bit on the wistful side.
Rory chewed her bottom lip as she calculated "Yeah, it may be late though, I have to finish packing and then I'm supposed to meet Logan this evening."
"Sure I understand, deserting me now that you've got a better offer, oh to be young and in love. " She sighed melodramatically.
Rory's denial was rote "I don't know about love..."
"Spare me the defense. You know where I'll be. "
Rory could picture it almost exactly "On your throne composing new odes to Gaz while you drown yourself in lab engineered sweets in the shape of torpedoes with cream filling."
Lorelai gave a self-deprecating chuckle "You know me too well kid. Oh and you may have offended my delicate sensibilities with the interruption so you should probably bring a bribe to get back on my good side."
"Who says I want to be on your good side?"
Lorelai gave a mournful sigh "First interruption and now rejection. The pain is too much to bear."
Rory rolled her eyes and sighed, "Fine what'll it cost me to appease the drama queen?"
Lorelai's voice turned gleeful "I'm thinking something with cream filling."
'Big surprise."
"See you later. Good luck on your final kid... knock those econ major Trump wannabes on their asses."
"Bye Mom." Rory flipped the phone closed and then sighed as she faced the pile of books in front of her.
Lorelai pulled to a stop in the lot of the Inn just as she pressed the end call button with her thumb and then let her head fall back against the headrest leaving the car in idle. She was in the driver's seat of her jeep and contemplating just how much trouble she would be in if she turned around and made tracks out of the small gravel lot and just kept driving.
She was just imaging the vanishing silhouette of Stars Hollow in her rear view mirror when
There was a hard rap just to the left of her head that had her eyes shooting open and her skull bouncing up abruptly from the headrest. She slapped her hand to her chest in a futile attempt to slow her heart rate when she saw Michel standing primly on the other side of the glass looking impatient and snippy. She sighed as she turned off the car and grabbed her purse. Apparently today she wasn't going to get to play hooky and nothing but her worn thin patience was going to be doing a vanishing act.
She opened the door and slid off the seat, her heeled boots landing in the gravel with a soft crunch. "Can I help you Michel or are you just out playing parking attendant again? You know we could give you a job as the valet if you are tired of your current position."
Michel gave her a little huffy glare "Actually I was inside working...you might recognize the concept, I think you used to do it once upon a time before you became the boss. So there I was just minding my own business ...or our business to be correct, when one of the workers mentioned that there was a strange lady sitting in her car, loitering in the parking lot. We have a very strict policy about loitering you know so I came to check it out right away. Then when I saw it was you I as concerned that you had died in there with you car still running. People can suffocate in their cars you know."
Lorelai rolled her eyes "I think that only goes for babies and dogs and people who are trying to die in their car."
Michel gave a nonchalant shrug "How do I know you don't want to die in your car?"
Lorelai sighed, she really wasn't up to the word game today "Fine Michel. Thank you for your concern. Next time I'm trapped in a running car you'll be the first one I call. Now what do you want?"
Michel's face squinched into what Lorelai fondly thought of has his tantrum face and his hands balled unconsciously at his sides. "I want you to make Sookie stop letting her fuzzy pawed vegetable man use the soap in the staff bathroom."
Lorelai choked over a laugh but managed to keep a straight face...just barely, there was nothing like an irate Frenchman to inject a bit of hilarity into the morning. She was feeling better already "Excuse me?"
Michel was in full rant mode now. "He is a hairy man and he leaves all sorts of hairy remains on the soap and I don't like it."
Lorelai placed a sympathetic hand on his tense shoulder and said in a soothing voice. "Michel have you ever heard the term Nancy Boy?"
Lorelai watched with amusement, as his face darkened a shade to the color of a nearly ripe eggplant "I am not gay just because I value personal hygiene and am not descendant of the ape man."
She patted him solicitously, glad to have something besides her own problems to distract her "It's okay that you don't have body hair or facial hair Michel, we don't think less of you. We know that you are all man under that freakishly smooth skinned exterior."
Leaving him snapping his mouth open and shut like a fish she turned on her heel and headed to the stairs at a good clip.
Lorelai plopped her bag into its customary spot under the front counter and then headed for the kitchen and the siren song of coffee. It was shaping up to be a very long day and she was going to need an infusion of the stuff if this kept up.
She had her hand on the coffee pot when the voice over her shoulder "So you going to tell me what's going on or do I have to threaten to cut off your caffeine supply?"
Sookie had snuck up on her amidst the clatter of dishes and bang of pans and elicited a little jump of surprise but she recovered quickly. Rubbing absently at her right temple with one hand in an attempt to dissolve the gathering tightness of an impending headache as she headed for the kitchen island with her coffee cup in the other. "You wouldn't!"
Sookie tried to look threatening but caved almost immediately "Okay, you're right, I wouldn't, I still remember what happened last time I did that, we still haven't gotten that crème anglaise off the ceiling of the walk in and it's been six months."
Lorelai smiled half-heartedly and quipped with an attempt at her usual spirit "You should never mess with a woman two cups shy of a full dose."
Sookie frowned a little worried about her friend's slightly distracted look, Lorelai only got this distracted and distant when something really bad had happened. "Lesson learned...so, you going to spill the details or am I going to have to enlist the services of my secret weapon?"
"Secret weapon?" Lorelai queried only half curiously.
Sookie smiled her best evil genius smile... no where near as effective as Lorelai's but of passable believability. "Have you heard Michel's rant about hospital corners and the best way to put on a pillow slip without wrinkling it?"
Lorelai pretended shock "Oooh...that's dirty and underhanded."
Sookie nodded her head emphatically "Hey you're not the only one who can play hard ball honey."
Lorelai slumped her shoulders and wrapped both hands around the warm coffee cup staring into the dark reflective liquid as if it held the secret answers to whatever new calamity troubled her before she spoke again. "What makes you think something is going on?"
Sookie noticed that Lorelai was studiously avoiding direct eye contact, which was a sure sign that something big was up. "Well Mary Sunshine I think maybe the glower that puts Margo Channing to shame and the scatter of underlings that nearly fell over trying to get out of your way before they were trampled" she reached out and plucked something from Lorelai's shirt collar "Plus you have a pink ribbon stuck to your shoulder so I figure either you and Taylor played a little round of Russian roulette over the ribbons or you have been abducted by aliens and all that is sitting in my kitchen is a weird space age clone of Lorelai."
"I could be a space age clone of Bette Davis." Lorelai said in a defensive tone.
"Possible but playing the odds I'd say it's more likely that you had a tussle with Taylor." Sookie gave her a knowing look.
Lorelai gulped coffee and then rose to pace back towards the coffee machine with a diffident shrug that belied her tense posture "If you already know the story you hardly need me to recount it."
Sookie could sense the impending stubbornness so she quickly changed
directions to circumvent the inevitable stonewalling "I've got orange hazelnut scones fresh from the oven that need testing."
Lorelai plopped down with a small smile and a raised eyebrow "Well why didn't you lead with that offer? You know my tales of woe are always for sale for fresh baked goods...really I'd probably tell it even for day olds, I'm not all that picky."
Sookie smiled as she slid a couple of scones onto a plate and set them between her and Lorelai as she grabbed a stool next to her and surreptitiously shooed her sous chef into the dining room so they would have a little privacy for their girl talk.
Lorelai bit into a piping hot scone and gave a little groan of satisfaction before she closed her eyes and her mind picked up where she'd left off with Rory as she recounted the story for Sookie
Face to face with Taylor with her eyes shooting wicked darts of anger. "I'd say I hit the target with a direct bull's-eye nothing misplaced about it." She'd heard the timbre of her voice take on a dangerous edge as the haze of anger clouded her vision.
Taylor's officious retort hadn't helped much "I have done nothing wrong. The ribbons are simply a way to clearly delineate the allegiance of town members. It avoids confusion and misunderstandings."
"You've been watching Dr. Phil again haven't you Taylor?"
He'd huffed in self-important indignation and then looked down his nose at her "We wouldn't be having this conversation if you had not once again failed to hold to the stipulations set by town regulations."
"Who died and made you the grand master of the lemmings?" She grated out with indignation all but rolling off her.
"I am simply doing what any good civic servant would do in the humble service of our great community. I would hate to see bad blood developing between the factions and driving a wedge between I wish to avoid the creation of bad blood. We had a meeting about it; I believe that you were there. There was testimony and discussion and you and Luke claimed that the same shambles to which all your relationships come would not befall this relationship. That you two all but cohabitating would not affect the town. I can have Kirk read back the minutes of the meeting if you can't recall the details you'll remember perhaps that I warned you and Luke from the beginning that this was a bad idea that would only lead to strife. It's hardly my fault that you are both too pig headed to listen to the voice of wisdom." It was the sanctimonious scolding finger he stuck in her face as he warmed to subject that had her teeth grinding and her fingers tightening on the bin between them.
"You are the most insufferable punctilious puritanical curmudgeon that ever lived, you make Joe McCarthy look like a free loving hippie and I feel sorry for you." She had been an inch from his face at that point and contemplating what he would look like with a nice custard pie capping his grey hair.
He narrowed his eyes at her but gave a superior little huff "You can throw all the sticks and stones you like Lorelai but it doesn't' make me wrong."
She detested the fact that even a cell in her being saw his point "You know if they gave awards for pomposity and self aggrandizement you would be the unanimous winner."
"Say what you will, I am just doing what is best for the town."
She was done arguing with the infuriating man "That's very Clockwork Orange of you. I'm sure the town people appreciate not having to think for themselves and having right and wrong so neatly laid out before them. I'm sure Stars Hollow will be a model, ribbon festooned best places to live kind of town in no time flat. Good luck with that. Now give me the ribbons before I have to go all Matrix on your ass."
He narrowed his eyes at her clearly incensed by one of her many insults. "Your sarcasm does nothing to deflate my belief that this is for the best."
She gave him her best glare designed to singe him until his nose hairs smoked "Nor your ego either apparently. You have until the count of five to hand over those ribbons and trust me you don't want to know what happens at five."
They glared at one another across the bin both of them dug in and holding onto the bin with all their might. Then she had started to count "One... two... three... four..."
"Five."
The sound of the deep voice just behind her left shoulder had her grip suddenly going lifeless and slipping from the edge of the bin an action which resulted in the bin flying backwards and showering Taylor in small pink and blue ribbons. She'd completely ignored his gasp of outrage and spun towards the intruder. "Luke..."
It was all she said, and she pictured now how she must have looked, the blazing red swaths of color on her otherwise pale face, her eyes pleading with him but tongue-tied. Her voice finally came out in stilted syllables.
"I...what, I thought that you..."she knew it was probably obvious that her eyes were searching his for something, a truce or an acceptance of her apology or some glimmer of a waver in stance but she hadn't been able to stop the instinct.
He shrugged and she could tell that he was suddenly uncomfortable with all the eyes on him as his shoulders rose into their hunched protective position "I thought you might need some help. I'm not much of a Matrix guy but I might be good in a shootout, I've been told I do a mean Butch Cassidy." His voice was an attempt at lightness that she couldn't seem to reciprocate. The bottom had just dropped out of her stomach and apparently taken every ounce of her wit with it.
She had been the one to tell him that one night when she had let him pick the movies and they had ended up with a medley of Westerns, as her payment for allowing him to choose she had insisted that they act out one of the gun battle scenes in full cowboy regalia...which in her case had meant a big belt buckle, a flannel shirt, some very fetching boots and a cowboy hat but Luke had looked a bit like he had stepped directly out of the dusty streets of the Wild West with his five o'clock shadow and steely eyes "And I'm a shoe in for the Sundance Kid." She'd murmured it reflexively but it had seemed like she'd screamed the words.
It was the most conversation they had exchanged in weeks and Lorelai had found herself suddenly ill-equipped for verbal communication as she sucked in a breath and attempted with much lauded strength of character not to notice the stubble accented curve of his cheek, the shadows under his eyes the little trickle of hurt through the facade of sarcasm that only she could detect in his eyes. They read each other well... they should be together, they were two halves to a whole, sarcasm all but the breath of life, cynicism and belief that life was the enemy their common fodder but deep down the softest of heart, the gentlest of spirit the most romantic of souls. They were the believers and yet time and again life dealt them the low hand, made them the brunt of the joke, the example for the masses. The good guys who never won.
Thoughts flitted through her mind but words escaped her, a rare occurrence for her. Come what may, hell, high water or pregnancy at sixteen she had always had the gift of gab, the ready comeback, the witty repartee, the smart alec remark, when in came to the art of sly commentary she was the queen. Yet there she was at a most critical moment in her existence, a pivotal situation and she stood with lips opening and closing like a beached fish gasping for air and she was...well, speechless, there was no other word for it and she was not one who had a whole slew of previous experience with speechless. Typically she had something to say, take any make it or break it moment in the life of Lorelai Gilmore and there was a pithy comment, a remark regarding the ultimate relevance of the moment, the scale of relativity that spoke to the weight of that particular second in the scheme of things.
She had been pregnant and sixteen and she had hardly hesitated to pass judgment on herself and all involved, a glib comment had never been far from the tip of her barbed tongue until this moment, this most important moment when she stood face to face with the man she loved and found her self at a complete loss for words, seemingly without comprehension of the common language of English and with no knowledge whatsoever of the nuance or the art of conversation.
She'd wanted to reach out to him, she'd wanted to feel the rough stubble of his cheeks on her fingertips and the soft, hungry greeting of his lips on hers, she'd wanted to break through this invisible wall that seemed to fill the space between them but she hadn't known how to take the first step. So she'd run.
"Well." She shook her head physically at this nonsensical answer and managed after a particularly violent shake to rattle some sense back into that wayward skull of hers. "Thanks."
She whirled back towards Taylor with a look in her eyes that did not warrant discussion and grabbed the bin from him with one vicious jerk before leveling her killer gaze straight at him. "You can call an emergency town meeting and have me fined or tied to the maypole or something but these are mine and you are not getting them back." he had nothing more than a mere mumble in response and she spun towards the door all but flattening poor Luke in the process. She sent one last look in his direction before she stalked from he store with her head held high and the basket of ribbons clasped tight. She hoped with some tiny part of her that believed in old movie endings that Luke would come after her and demand to talk or better yet would grab her and kiss her passionately effectively cutting off any thought of verbal communication.
She was ten steps past the door when she heard the distinctive bell ring over the door to Luke's but she didn't look back. She was another ten steps down the street before she belatedly recalled that she had left her car double parked in the middle of the street.
She turned on her heel and gaped at the sight that met her eyes. Kirk in a construction hat with the flashing lights of a tow truck at his back as he directed traffic around her parked car.
Sookie slapped a hand on her arm in shock "No. That's horrible, that miserable little lackey."
Lorelai nodded and in the warm cinnamon scented air of the Dragonfly's cozy kitchen with her third cup of coffee steaming in front of her the whole scene suddenly took on a new twist of the burlesque. She felt a little bubble of laughter escape her as she locked eyes with Sookie. "Yeah, bad enough that I have a tug of war match with Barney Fife in public but then I turn around find David from the Village People towing my car. It was an unprecedented level of shtick even for Stars Hollow's usually nutty denizens. For a minute there I thought maybe I was being Punk'd
Sookie giggled girlishly "Too bad you weren't, that Ashton Kutcher is almost as yummy as my strawberry mousse cake. I wouldn't mind taking a bite out of him and he wouldn't even have to pay me a million dollars for it."
Lorelai's lips curled into their first real smile of the day as she shook her head in mock reproof and clucked her tongue "What happened to Jackson in this little Indecent Proposal scenario? You remember Jackson right, husband extraordinaire, father of your child, hairy tormentor of prissy Frenchman."
Sookie waved a dismissive hand "As moody as I've been lately I think Jackson would probably pay him to take me. Besides I'll just chalk it up to the wacky hormonal urges brought on by pregnancy. Mention anything with the word estrogen in it and Jackson's eyes cross and I swear he is humming 'I can't hear you' in his head."
Lorelai chuckled "Men do seem to have a terminal case of the heebie-jeebies when any mention of feminine issues comes up."
Sookie nodded sagely "Good thing too, that little peculiarity has come in useful on several occasions." She planted her elbows on the counter and studied her friend who was looking slightly perkier but still not entirely up to snuff. "Seeing as you are sitting in my kitchen and I don't think you hiked through the snow to get here I assume you managed to wrest the jeep away from Wonderboy."
"Kirk's not hard to intimidate just mention anything about night terrors and falling out of trees and he turns white and starts shaking like a tiny little leaf. I think he almost lost his hat he was convulsing so strongly." Lorelai smirked a little.
Sookie tested the waters gingerly with her next question. "So what are you going to do next?"
Lorelai shrugged "I thought I'd have a nice ritual ribbon burning, sort of a cleansing ritual of sorts, you know get rid of all the bad qi ...plus the Taylor cooties." She gave Sookie a hopeful smile that begged for her to drop the subject.
Sookie gave her a stern look aching inside for Lorelai; she hated to see her friends in pain...both of them. "I meant about Luke."
"Oh." Silence as Lorelai stared deeply into the muddy liquid in her cup and then finally gave a deep sigh. "Nothing. Just like I've been doing for the last month. He asked me for time and I'm giving him time. Maybe the rest of his life at this point."
"Oh hun it's not..." Sookie stopped abruptly when Lorelai's hand came to rest upon her lips silencing her next words.
"Don't Sookie." Lorelai dropped her hand and shoved back her stool as she rose from the counter with a resolute look "I know you mean well Sookie but this time you're wrong. I made this particular cross and now it's mine to bear. Luke has every right to be angry with me and every right to hate me... forever if that's what he chooses."
She placed the cup in the huge stainless steel sink out of habit and then headed for the door, turning just as she reached the jamb "Thanks for the girl talk and the scones. I'll be fine don't worry." She'd meant them to be reassuring but the words sounded hollow eve to her. She shrugged and tried for a lighter note. "I better get back to the desk though, I think Michel may be calling for an impeachment soon if I don't make an appearance."
Sookie was having none of the false nonchalance. "Maybe if you just talked to Luke..."
Lorelai gave her an imploring look, between Sookie and the rest of the townsfolk she wasn't sure how much more of this well-intentioned pity she could handle without losing her grip on the vestiges of her sanity that remained "Sookie, please. Just let it be."
Sookie sighed in resignation but nodded in the affirmative "Okay Hun, whatever you want, but you know I'm here if you need anything."
Lorelai nodded as she backed out the door "I know. Thanks." And then she was gone disappearing around the corner of the stairs as she headed for the front desk.
Sookie bit her bottom lip with her teeth and forced herself to count to ten. Then she picked up the phone from the side counter. Sometimes when dealing with the notorious Gilmore stubbornness one had to be creative about how one mounted an offensive. It was time to shake Lorelai out of her imposed exile and she had just the thing to do it. What she needed now was reinforcements.
A/N: Okay, so I know this took a LOT longer than promised and this chapter didn't have any Rory/ Logan in it but I promise much goodness to come. Thanks so much for your patience. I hope to have the next chapter up by tomorrow. Happy reading!
