Rory lay in bed a couple hours later, staring listlessly at her phone, which was still shut off. She couldn't bring herself to turn it back on, to see all the messages she was sure to get from her other coworkers and her roommates, but she couldn't seem to put it down, either.
Outside the room, she could hear Luke saying goodbye to Jess. She'd excused herself before they started the second movie, needing a little space, but after a couple of hours of solitude, she was crawling up the walls. She tossed the phone aside and walked over to the window, peeking out of the curtain just in time to see Jess stepping out of the front door.
Without any particular thought except that it was suffocating in her room, she cracked open the window, drawing his attention. He walked over and just stood there, silently watching her.
"Hey," she said. She could see her breath in the cold night air.
"Hey."
Rory didn't know what to say next. She hadn't really thought this through. What did she expect to happen—that she'd share her woes and he'd scold her for her bad life choices and she'd suddenly be inspired to turn it all around?
But Jess saved her the trouble of figuring it out. "Shall we?" he asked.
He'd said those words to her before, on the night they met. It felt so different now. She glanced back at her bedroom door, listening for her mom and Luke. For some reason, she hated the idea of them knowing she was leaving with Jess. Satisfied they'd headed upstairs, she gave him a little nod. "Let me just grab my coat."
When she climbed out of the window a moment later, she was relieved to see he was still waiting for her. Not that she really thought he'd go anywhere, but he had a habit of disappearing just when she needed him the most.
"Hey," she said, flustered.
"You said that already."
"Right. Okay, so…"
Jess jerked his head toward the front steps. "Let's take a walk."
"Okay."
They began walking with no particular direction in mind. The town was beautiful, silent and still and covered in a fresh powder of snow. On nights like this, Rory loved Stars Hollow so much she almost couldn't stand it.
They didn't say anything as they wandered past the post office and Sookie's house and the Hungry Diner. Jess didn't seem inclined to talk, and Rory didn't want to disrupt whatever stillness was between them. They ended up at the bridge, of course. They always ended up there, sooner or later.
After brushing aside a light layer of snow, Rory sat down on the wooden slats, dangling her feet over the icy water, but Jess remained standing. She looked up at him. "Was it hard, moving here after living in New York?"
Jess shrugged. "It was and it wasn't. My life in New York was kind of shit, but then I moved to this weird-ass town, where people flipped out about gnomes and chalk outlines. Plus, Chuck Presby lived here."
"He was a jerk," Rory offered.
"I don't think me and this town ever really fit together." He slid down next to her, staring into the water. "But it wasn't all bad."
"Like living with Luke?"
"That nutjob? You know he pushed me into this pond once." Then he laughed. "But, yeah, like living with Luke."
Playing with the buttons on her coat, Rory said in a small voice, "I don't know if I could live here again. After college, after New York. Don't get me wrong, I love this town. I love the town meetings and Kirk's latest misadventures and the winter carnival." Jess made a gagging noise at that, and she smacked his arm and said, "Shut up, you had fun at the winter carnival. I won you a bear!"
She sighed. "But, I don't know, it doesn't feel right anymore. You know I've been in town six hours and already got into a fight with my best friend?"
"You and Lane fought?"
"Well, it wasn't a fight, exactly. I told her she was talented."
Jess raised his eyebrows. "And? She is talented."
"And…that she wasn't a real drummer."
"Ouch."
"I know, it was stupid. I just, we used to want to do things with our lives. She wanted to be on Behind the Music after a scandalous rock band breakup, and I wanted to—" Rory almost couldn't get the words out. "I wanted to be an overseas correspondent like Christiane Amanpour."
"Crawling in trenches with bombs going off in the background, right?"
Rory nodded. "I know Lane has this life with her kids and Zach and the band and her mom and everything, but doesn't she want those things anymore? Is it really enough for her, living in this small town where she grew up, giving up everything to wait tables?"
"Maybe it is, for her."
Rory didn't respond immediately, listening to the water lightly lapping at the bridge. "I suppose it's better than the alternative."
"Yeah?"
Not looking at him, she said, "I know my dad loves me, but he was never really around. He was always going after something big—Princeton, his company in California, Sherri—and just crashing and burning. He gave up seeing me grow up, and for what—expulsion and bankruptcy and divorce?"
Of course, he had a good job now, and he was getting pretty serious with his new girlfriend, and he was actually being a parent to Gigi, so maybe her point didn't hold up under scrutiny. But still, none of that included her.
She glanced at Jess out of the corner of her eye. His face was pensive, distant.
Out of nowhere, he said, "My dad worked on a lobster boat."
"That's what he was doing in California?" she asked, then paused, feeling awkward about knowing about California when he'd never actually told her.
"No, he had a hot dog stand, on the boardwalk. But he'd lived all over, fucking up everywhere he went. That's just who he is though. Was, at least. A fuck-up. It would have been the same if he'd stayed." With a small, pained smile, he added, "Having goals isn't the same as abandoning your kid."
She pursed her lips. "It's just, I've already given up so much, and what if it's all for nothing?" She didn't say what she was really thinking about, which was Logan, and Palo Alto, and a house with an avocado tree.
"It's not," he said, his voice warm and strong.
She wasn't sure if she believed that or not, but it had weight, coming from him. She shrugged. "How was it, seeing your dad?"
"Weird."
He flexed his hand, and she remembered all of the times they'd held hands. She'd felt so close to him, once upon a time, but had she ever really known him?
"He has a family now—he lives with his girlfriend and her kid and like a thousand dogs—and there just wasn't room for me. He tried to make it work, to include me, and his girlfriend was great about it, but his heart wasn't in it. I don't think he was even sorry about leaving me, not really."
He fiddled around with his jacket, like he was looking for cigarettes that weren't there. "We talk sometimes now, but it's never going to be like it is with Luke, or my mom, even. It's just something that doesn't hurt quite as much as it used to."
"Wow." Rory didn't know what else to say.
"Yep," he said. "I guess we're both members of the loser dad club, then."
"Guess so." Even in his snark, he was still more open than she'd ever seen him. "Why didn't we talk like this, when we were together?" she asked quietly.
Jess lowered his head. "I was stupid and angry and afraid."
That surprised her, though she wasn't sure why. "Afraid of what?"
"That you'd, I don't know—" He stuck his hands in his pockets and let out a low sigh. "That you wouldn't like me, if you really knew me."
He seemed terribly embarrassed at his admission, and all she could say was, "Oh."
"You?" he asked after a moment. When she didn't respond, he clarified, "Why didn't you ever talk about stuff like this, when we were together?"
She absently pulled at her hair, hiding her face from him. "I was always worried that if I needed too much from you, you'd leave."
A long, heavy silence followed her words, only broken by the sound of a muskrat squeaking in the distance. A breeze picked up, and Rory realized with a start how cold it had gotten.
Jess shifted beside her, but Rory kept her gaze forward. His voice broke slightly as he said, "Rory, I'm sorry for—"
"We should get back," she interrupted.
"I—"
"My mom's probably wondering where I am." She stood up, still not looking at him.
If she let him apologize for leaving, for Kyle's party, for all of it, she would have to forgive him, but she couldn't. It had been years; she knew she was supposed to be over it, but there was something in her that just wouldn't let go of the hurt. And if she forgave him, he'd have to forgive her for everything she did, and where would that leave them?
"Yeah," he said, clambering up.
He walked her home, an uncharacteristic—and completely unnecessary—act of gallantry.
She climbed up the stairs to the front porch. "Well, this is me."
"Huh, how about that," he said with a bite. There was nothing open or warm about him now.
"Good night."
He nodded. "Be seeing you." And then he turned and walked out into the night, leaving her standing on the porch feeling more alone than ever.
