June 7, 2008
How is any of this possible? He pretends it isn't, it's not real, that's how he gets from the kitchen to the bathroom, and back to Nicks's bedroom, their bedroom. Nicks falls asleep with her back to his. His head is reeling. He stares into the dark room. She definitely heard them, him. Oh god. In an instant that moment mingles with every time they were close in the past, he'll never have sex in this room again without a thought down the corridor. He knows that room well, and the previous tenant Jake. He was a smoker too and they used the fire escape for that purpose frequently.
What are the odds? It's dark magic, has to be. He doesn't believe in god but is forced to consider the possibility of a malignant trickster variety being out to get him at this point. Those are the thoughts he binds himself with that night, the unlikelihood of this entire situation, denial.
He stares at the wall, then he wakes up, having just closed his eyes, thoughts and feelings lodged in him mid-sentence. Nicks is getting up, she goes to work out in the mornings even if she doesn't have to. Once she's gone he rolls over and looks at the ceiling. The roof he's meant to share with Rory Gilmore from now on.
He hasn't said her name out loud in two years, since it seems to summon her, and days can pass before he shakes her. He and Luke has sort of a don't ask, don't tell-policy regarding her, but some things can't be missed, especially when Lorelai's around, she's happy to share her daughter's successes as well as stuff that just amuses her. He's heard the name and the way he feels every time has convinced him not to speak it. But now… He shapes it with his lips and clenches his jaws around it, and it's enough to make his heart pick up its pace.
There's no point denying what he feels, what he's always felt, the strength of it is still humbling. But he can make it into something different. He has to. He only loves the idea of her, the changes she inspired in his life, he tells himself in someone else's voice.
He hears noises from the kitchen, and gets up, gets dressed, resolved. He finds Rory there, clearly annoyed. She rummages around the space erratically.
"Too early for this, too little sleep." She mutters.
"Hey."
She almost jumps at his voice, then looks at him, irritated, vulnerable.
"Hi."
They stare at each other for a moment, all his momentum seemingly out the window.
"This is so weird." She mumbles.
"Yup." He replies, breathlessly, before clearing his throat. "Looking for something?"
She sighs, sharply, with a tiny, strange note in her voice.
"Coffee, filters, my so-called life."
"Let's go out for breakfast. There's a place around the corner."
She straightens, nods.
"Okay."
They head down, and the silence is awkward, even when they're just walking. He wants to look at her, keep her in his line of sight, a constant confirmation that he hasn't in fact lost his mind, so he keeps glancing at her, which makes his steps uneven and scattered. At one point she looks at him with those piercing blue eyes of hers, frowning. He bites his tongue. Get it together.
"This way."
It's not far, just around the corner of the block and across the street.
The place is going for shameless retro americana with a long bar counter stretching from one end of the room to the other, bending itself around the kitchen, the edges of the room diced up into booths with just a few stray tables, the waitress and cook wearing similar silly hats in white and petrol. The place is full of people not able to locate their own coffee filters, but the last booth, closest to the opening of the counter, becomes available as soon as they enter. More black magic, maybe his own this time, he's always had a way with diners. And it's a good thing, Rory - suddenly in a much better mood, likely from the mere proximity to food - dives right into the menu chatting incessantly, asking questions about the different dishes.
"I'm the wrong person to ask."
"You picked the place."
"I'm not a breakfast person. I just come here for the coffee. And a donut sometimes, those are good."
She frowns at him and orders coffee, eggs and a donut from the waitress after a beat. There's a digital jukebox in a corner playing Perry Como. He tries not to look at her too much, but sees that she's chewing on her lip, in anticipation of the food most likely, or maybe she's nervous too. The waitress brings the coffee, and Rory hides behind her cup, while he stirs his. Then he finally gets it together, through sheer force of will. He leans over the table, it's a trick he's learned from Nicks, she does it when she wants to get people to open up, and it almost always works, people tend to be eager to mirror you, even if they're not aware of it.
"I figured it's good if we get a chance to talk."
She sighs into her cup, then lowers it.
"Yeah, you're probably right."
She looks at him, expecting him to take the lead, he thought he already had, getting them here, starting this topic, he's not quite sure how to continue after this. He sips his coffee to gain time. Fortunately, she starts talking instead.
"So, how long have you been together with Nicks?"
"Almost a year."
"And how did you two meet?"
"Through Truncheon, she edited an anthology for us, and put out a shorter autobiography on the pieces she wrote for her blog, about her life, her dad, her money." He pauses, it's easy to talk about Nicks, she is interesting, and it helps that he doesn't have to talk about himself, he uses the trick frequently with other people, but can't keep it up long with Rory. "We were coworkers, then friends, then-" He can't finish the sentence, he's a delicate flower.
"You live together." She finishes for him.
"In a way."
She smiles, pulling the string.
"It's sort of a trial-run." He goes on. "I had business in town, we always do, it helps that I'm here, and-"
He halts, hasn't told anyone other than in passing.
"What?" She asks.
He stares at his coffee and speaks slowly, deliberately.
"I'm getting my GED, got the test scheduled for the first of September, here in New York, several birds, one stone."
He can't stand the look on her face for more than short glances. She's so… happy, over something he's doing, for himself. It makes him think maybe it's not all for himself. Is everything he does an offering to her?
"I'm-" Her voice is full of it too. "I'm so happy for you, that's so great, Jess."
He forces his eyes to her face, lets it wash over him. They look at each other and spend a moment in that place of theirs, that only holds the two of them. Her food arrives and she downs half of her eggs in a few decisive bites, while he looks out the window, following the passersby with his eyes so he doesn't slip too badly. After a little while she continues talking and he's allowed to look at her again.
"And, a trial-run- Practise for permanently living together?"
"It's what all the cool kids are doing."
"It's not just dating." It's a statement, with just a hint of soft question which he can't dwell on.
"I don't think I have it in me." He says, truthfully.
She nods, smiles, a little tightly he thinks.
"In or out."
"Possibly." He fidgets in his seat.
"How long have you lived here?"
"Not long, 'bout a month and a half."
She nods. He clears his throat and changes the subject.
"So, how've you been?"
"Busy." She answers lightly.
"You broke up with Porsche-guy."
She hides behind her cup again.
"He dumped me, actually."
He can't stop himself. He reaches over the table and pulls the cup from her face and makes eye contact, smiles.
"That's not how I heard it."
Her jaw drops.
"What did you hear?"
"He proposed. You said no thanks."
She smirks.
"Pretty happy about that, huh?"
Now he has to look away, he lets go of her cup and leans back into his seat, mumbles.
"I won't lie, yes."
She chuckles.
"What other gossip is Luke passing on?"
"That was your mother actually."
She gasps and he goes on while he can.
"She told me about your grandfather too."
She stops smiling.
"Yeah, well."
"That why you're here?"
"Partly." She takes a gulp of coffee. "Mom and grandma, they argue to handle stuff like this, it's just the way it is, but without me around it escalates."
"And the other part?"
There's the briefest of pauses, then a big smile from her and that chin out thing she does when she's begging for a good bickering.
"You know I've always had a soft spot for the big apple."
He laughs, she looks pleased, leans in.
"But seriously, can you believe that you and I are like roommates now? How did that happen?"
He shrugs, decides to be kind.
"Fate."
She smiles broadly.
"Must be." She shakes her head. "Yesterday was awkward like nothing else, but- right now this doesn't seem like such a bad thing." She extends her right hand theatrically. "What do you say? Friends?"
That stupid word. It chafes from being too small and too big at the same time. He reaches for her hand, and it's really there. Wild.
"It's what we've always been as far as I'm concerned."
It's not a lie. They're kindred. It's not her fault he's crazy about her. And the good she's done for him, she doesn't even know half of it. So it came with a few side effects, he's still convinced he would be in horrible shape today if it weren't for her. He never would've started writing if not for all those letters he penned but never sent, without the writing he never would've found Truncheon, or Nicks for that matter. Heck, he didn't even sign up to get his GED without hearing her voice in his head. She doesn't deserve his bitterness, hostility, or to drag around responsibility for his relentless longing, she deserves his friendship, support.
The waitress refills their cups, and he takes a slow breath, while she stirs her cup cheerily, a little bouncy, in rhythm with Peggy Lee, currently played on the jukebox.
"So, what have you read lately?"
He snorts.
"Lately?"
"Since the last time we met-" She stops, picks up her cutlery and cuts her donut in half, placing one bit on a napkin. "-no, since the last time we had time to discuss that stuff."
He smiles.
"I don't keep a log."
"But you remember, don't you?" She pushes the napkin with the half a donut over to him, like an awkward bribe.
"Maybe." He admits.
"Well, in any case, I keep a log." She takes a bite of her half.
"Naturally."
"I could look into it," her mouth is full of bread, there's sugar on her lips, "see if we can catch up?"
He chuckles a bit before answering but it feels more like a breath than a laugh.
"You carry it with you?"
"I don't actually, I probably should."
"This is a little embarrassing for you."
She laughs, sending a crumb flying.
"Well, it's too long anyway, we'll have to get through it bit by bit."
"We have time."
"We do, don't we?"
She smiles and licks the sugar from her lips. He's in trouble.
After breakfast Rory heads to meet some guy about a prospective job and he walks to the park, hasn't got a meeting until later. He sits on a bench by the arch, takes up his half a donut and eats it. So, it's fine. Rory lives in the apartment, big deal, he'll deal. They have fun together, always has had, just because they've argued like crazy at times doesn't mean that's their default. It'll be fine.
But Nicks. What is he going to tell her? It's probably better if she doesn't know, but things might get pretty complicated if he has to manage their history, keeping secrets hasn't worked in his favor so far. He should tell her.
His meeting is fairly quick, a writer who's arranging a release party and needs his help inviting some people from houses and independent press. But it's not until mid-July. When they're done he walks back to the apartment, thoughts churning.
His impulse is still to call Luke, even while realizing the absurdity of it. Luke hasn't been in that many relationships, and since he's finally landed one that matters he's likely forgotten everything previous. That's how Liz works anyway. The risk of getting some outlandish advice to either tell all or nothing seems likely and destined to be faulty. He calls Matt instead, he's the only one who's been in relationships, plural, as opposed to Chris's serial dating.
Jess drags out the conversation as long as he can, the pull of the possibility to just leave it be is strong, but Matt is too efficient to allow for much stalling.
"What's up?" He asks after the third pause.
"I have a bit of an issue." Jess switches hands on the phone, is nervous talking about this so directly, these types of conversations are usually reserved to nights out drinking, but he needs advice on it right away, before too much time passes and everything just falls into ruin. "Remember Rory?"
"Rory Gilmore, the great and terrible beauty, first love extraordinaire, how could I not?" Matt rambles, then interrupts himself. "Wait why? What have you done?"
This was a mistake.
"Nothing, just turns out she's Nicks's new tenant."
"That doesn't sound like nothing."
"It's not like I invited her, it was pure business between them." He sighs. "What do I tell Nicks?"
"What do you mean what do you tell her?" There's urgency in Matt's voice, he doesn't leave space for Jess to answer. "What are you doing?"
"Excuse me for not having your extensive experience." Jess bites. "I've never had a relationship like this." He swallows his irritation. "What do I do?"
"You tell her nothing, alright? You tell her you dated, that's it, ancient history. Are you gonna hurt our girl just 'cause you have feelings for your ex? Everybody does." His voice on the line sounds flaky, like he's gesturing with the phone in hand. "You don't bring it up, life goes on."
Truth by silence, omitting things. Matt is still talking.
"Don't pour old shit into a new relationship, you know, just make new shit instead."
He snickers slightly. He's on a roll, and will keep going for a long time if he's not stopped, he rarely knows when to shut up.
"Got it." Jess says curtly, and the other end falls silent.
"Well then, glad to be of service."
Jess hangs up before anything else is said and considers the bitter idea of half-measures and gray areas and Rory Gilmore. It's so different from what he imagined for them when he was younger. He was angry with her two years ago when she was living beneath her own level, but he's picked up on a few things since then, and sees the use of maybe not going above and beyond all the time, it just led to him crashing after she last left. If he wants to maintain this life of his he needs to pace himself.
So, he doesn't hurry home. He walks around the park for a while before heading back and stopping to pick up lunch on his way. Nicks is back, in the middle of writing as he enters, but happy for the interruption as well as the food, he's bought her favorite, lebanese, perhaps in an act of preclusion. He puts on some music too, to sort of drown himself out. He watches her for a few minutes between bites. He has to tell her.
"Listen, I should probably clear something up;" he starts, and she looks up, still chewing. "Rory and I dated a few years back."
The words seem to tumble out his mouth, but maybe it's just because of the silence after. Nicks is looking at him, head slightly tilted.
"Oh."
He can't look away.
"Is she Laura?" She asks, with the slightest of smiles.
He exhales sharply, weirdly relieved.
"Jeez, Laura is a fictional character."
Her eyes narrow.
"Fine. Is she the girl from the night we met?"
He bites his lip, and takes a second to think on Matt's advice.
"Yes, but I don't- It goes without saying that I don't feel like that anymore."
Technically not a lie, it seems important that he walks the line on that, even if it is more complicated. She finally looks away, and when her eyes find him again they're softer. She opens her mouth before speaking, hesitating.
"Do you… wanna talk about it?"
Their limitations as a couple are plain, they've maintained space around their defenses, their neurosises, and now they have to live in it. He doesn't usually think about it like that, because he knows her, the stuff she shares with everyone and the details she's shared in tender moments, he's assembled a pretty decent idea of who she is. She hasn't had the same advantage with him.
He shakes his head, distracted by his thoughts.
"'Cause it'd be okay if you needed to."
She takes his hand. The gesture seems misplaced. They don't do the touchy-feely stuff, she even less than him. Maybe she's worried.
"Are you okay with her living here?" She asks.
What a question. Completely reasonable, but okay doesn't begin to cover it, in any direction. He finally knows what he needs to do, to say, though, without having to call a friend.
"I'm good. Me and Rory have been friendly for a while, we were actually friendly when you and I met, I was just in a bad place that night." He smiles at her, squeezes her hand back. "And by a bad place I mean drunk, and possibly trying to get you off my back."
She smiles broadly, shakes her head and pulls her hand from his. She takes a bite of her kibbeh, chews and swallows, before looking back at him.
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
June 8, 2008
It was summer when I slept, and winter now I waken, is her first thought when she wakes up. This is good, is her second. She wakes up, and thinks this is good. For one thing she slept alright, possibly from exhaustion but that's beside the point. The room is bright, the light reflecting harshly from the unadorned walls. She's going to have to decorate. She listens for the new sounds of the place, the traffic, faint music from one, maybe two, rooms, a voice, maybe several voices, from somewhere, the pipes rushing with water, the floor creaking with steps.
She makes her way up a while later, kind of slowly, carefully. By then she's waited for a few of her flatmates, can't tell which yet, to exit the place, to go to brunch from what she could make out. She couldn't say why she waited, maybe it's all just too much too soon. Even so, not everyone joined the excursion; one bathroom is taken and there's the familiar sound of the coffee maker from the kitchen.
She finds Nicks in an oversized flannel shirt, perched on a kitchen chair, bare legs folded under herself in some intricate mess, hair on end. For no apparent reason her heart picks up its pace. Nicks looks up and smiles at her. She mirrors it.
"Good morning."
"Morning is the only passable part of a Sunday." Nicks responds and nods at the coffee pot. "It's done if you want some."
"You bet."
Nicks returns her attention to the newspaper spread out in front of her. Rory dives into the task of pouring coffee with great concentration. She considers taking the cup back to her room but decides against it. Instead she tentatively extracts a chair from the table and sits down in front of Nicks. She sips her coffee and attempts to read upside down. She must turn her head a tad too much because she jerks at the rustle of Nicks handing her another section of the paper. She accepts it and Nicks smiles, kind of crookedly, at her. She reads a couple of pieces and refills her cup before Nicks breaks the silence.
"Jess told me you dated."
Rory's dumbfounded, despite having known she should have expected this conversation at some point. She looks awkwardly over her own shoulder and would rather swallow her own tongue than have Jess be privy to this particular discussion. As if reading her mind, Nicks says:
"He's not here, he left with the others."
"Sorry." Rory manages without having any idea if that word is appropriate.
"No, don't apologize."
"I just-" As soon as she knows what to say she can't say it fast enough. "I figured it was up to him to tell you-"
Nicks interrupts her, a chuckle in her voice.
"It's okay, that stuff can be awkward enough for the people actually involved."
"It was a long time ago." Rory breathes.
"But it was a big deal?"
"Well, yeah." She stares at her coffee, forces a little laugh. "But it always is when you're young, right?"
"I guess. For people in general that is, can't say I relate, boys were just props for me back then."
It's not a confidence, Rory knows that from having read her blog, more like common knowledge, but it offers a kind of exit off the topic and Rory takes it, gratefully, before she says something stupid.
"And now?" She asks and it's first when she's spoken the words that she realizes that she probably doesn't want to know the answer.
Nicks smiles, ruffles her own hair with a sort of distant gaze before answering.
"Paula taught me I was worth something, Jess taught me how to value someone else." She chuckles. "I never needed to pursue anyone before, you see."
Rory smiles helplessly.
"I remember that feeling," she says, "going after a guy actively."
"Was that Jess?"
"No- yes- in a way-" She rolls the edge of the paper up and down again as she speaks. "-it was a complicated, mutual thing."
"Complicated, huh?"
"It always is when you're young, right?" She jokes.
Nicks folds up her paper and pushes it across the table for Rory.
"I'm just, done with any drama." She says. "I don't pursue it, or stir it up, you should know that about me."
Rory nods. Nicks smiles.
"Either way, I know about it now, so…"
"Yeah, thanks for telling me." Stop talking now, Rory.
Nicks gets up and rinses off her cup in the sink. Rory stares at the text in the paper, upside down. Nicks stops in the door, speaks, lightly, but deliberately.
"Should I be worried?"
"No!" It feels rushed, even to her, but Nicks smiles, like she was just yanking her chain.
"Well then. See ya later."
Rory looks at the door for a few seconds after Nicks has gone. She looks back at the paper. This is apparently how adults behave, taking each other on words instead of vague implications. And maybe that's a good thing, you have to start somewhere, after all, aim for what you mean to do and act as if you're really gonna do it. This is good, she thinks.
She finishes her coffee, and heads to the diner for a slow and late breakfast a while later. She puts off going back, for reasons unclear. Instead she scours the shops around the blocks closest to her new home. Charlie from Pulse calls her back and has set up a trial run at their office for tomorrow, she thanks him vehemently and hangs up.
She winds up standing with the phone in her hand gazing blankly at it for a few moments, some paint is chipped off from where it landed the other night, the mark pulls her into the memory of it and she has to shake her head to get out of it. She calls Lorelai.
"Hi hun! You all settled?"
"No way. I'm gonna unpack later today."
"How was the party?"
"Interesting," she takes a quick breath, "I met Nicks's boyfriend, and you'll never guess who..." Her tone is chipper on purpose, that's how she makes it about someone else.
There's a pause that drags on too long.
"You're right, I won't, so spill!" Lorelai urges.
"Jess."
There's a deafening silence on the line which makes her crazy nervous.
"Excuse me? Jess? Mariano?"
"We don't know anyone else by that name now do we?" Rory says as lightly as she can.
Lorelai makes a noise on the other end indicating she's not having it.
"You don't get to take that tone on this! Do you realize the odds for this just randomly happening?"
"Astronomical."
Lorelai chuckles.
"He's dating Monopoly Girl? Moving up in the world…"
"Mom!"
"Batting out of his league."
"Just goes to show how little you know about baseball-"
"How did I miss this? I didn't even know he left Philadelphia-"
"He probably hasn't told anyone, he didn't know if it would become permanent."
"But wait! So he really lives there too? In the apartment?"
"Yup." Just the one syllable feels heavy to push out.
"I can't believe this-" Lorelai falls silent, and the click in her head is almost audible. "You're living with Jess Mariano."
Rory starts talking before she's ready to.
"We're roommates, it's temporary, and as previously stated he's dating my landlord, I got some pretty definite proof of that last night-" Why would she say that?
"Oh my god! What proof?"
"Auditory." Rory mumbles, has no choice.
"Jeez! I'm sorry honey."
Rory clears her throat.
"What are you sorry for? I'm fine."
"Then what are you calling your mommy for?"
"Maybe I'm calling my best friend to gossip."
It is useful to always be able to flip that switch.
"So, you're okay with this?"
"Completely, in fact, we went for this breakfast and had a great conversation, it'll be great, and his girlfriend knows about everything and is great with it."
"Oh really?" Lorelai's voice is flat. "Knows about everything? And you used great too many times."
"Okay, so maybe it was a bit awkward, but that's exactly why this is a good thing, we have to be able to hang out, he's definitely a part of our lives now, right?" Deflecting like a master.
"Of course." Lorelai sighs on the other end. "Fine, good, well I'm happy if you are."
"I am." She sounds like a crazy person, but at least it's genetic.
"Uhm, okay, so… will I see you next weekend?"
"A deal is a deal, just gotta unpack, and see a guy about a job."
After she hangs up she heads back, and goes straight to her room. She sits in her armchair, while the conversation runs off of her and she goes back to normal. Eventually she wills herself to get up and open a box. There's a wardrobe and a bureau into which she empties her clothes, she unpacks the rest of her books. A good portion of them never left Stars Hollow, and the minority of them that got to follow her to Yale have been in boxes at Lorelai's for the last year while she's been on the road.
For a moment she misses her room in Stars Hollow so much it hurts, it's like just a part of her left there. She reaches into her box and lifts out the last few books. Her worn copy of Howl is there. Funny, she can't remember bringing it to Yale, or reading it since High School really, it's been laying behind the rest of her books, covered in dust, but there. Now she places it with the G's.
She finds her copy of The Subsect and her heart skips a beat. She's so darn proud of him, it's actually kind of hard to handle, and the recollection of him showing up to deliver her copy in person along with a spoken word version of I've Had the Time of My Life even more so. She shakes her head, smiles with trembling lips, it's still one of her most beautiful memories.
When she lifts it out of the box a couple of notes fall out of it. It's her recommendations. Her joke that wasn't a joke, she actually wrote a few and even implemented her plan at a couple of book stores in Hartford and New Haven, then of course Philadelphia happened and she couldn't do it without perishing from shame, so she stopped, put the recommendations into her copy and did her best to forget about it, merge it into his words on the two of them being what they were, whatever that was. She still feels it to be honest, the shame, but has managed to develop some sort of strategy for managing it. She takes a deep breath, shapes the words with her lips; It is what it is, whatever it is.
She picks up a review and chuckles as she places the book, cover out, in the book shelf, and folds her note over it. She takes a step back to look at the shelf while she folds the box. It looks good, the corner with the armchair and bureau too. Her walls are still empty though. She'll have to decorate. She locates the picture of her grandparents and the one of her and Lorelai, places them on the bureau.
Friends. It's what they've always been as far as he's concerned. The absence of his friendship has never passed unnoticed, and there was a time when nothing hurt more. But she never felt for him like she felt for her other friends, he's never been like Marty to her. They are something more, something… bigger. She loves him, okay? There are no other words big enough. You can love your friends. She's relieved at their conversation the other morning, sees the need for a simple, disarming term for what they are, but it has to be temporary, like this place, this solution, she doesn't want them to be forced into what isn't them. She wants them to stay what they are, untamed if necessary, she has so little of that in her life. She resolves to protect it.
Notes: Referred to poem by Christina Rosetti "A Daughter of Eve".