August 16, 2008
It takes longer than she thought it would. Packing up her stuff goes quickly, but then the apartment is full of people and she can't get out without running into someone, so she's stuck in her room for almost an hour before working up the courage. Thankfully, Mark is the only one left at that point, and he helps her carry a couple of boxes without comment, but tells her to stay in touch.
When she finally gets going she feels dizzy and remembers she hasn't eaten since yesterday. She stops at a roadside diner just north of the city forcing down breakfast food early in the afternoon. Then, when she's ready to leave it hits her that she hasn't told Lorelai she's coming, so she stays, stirring her cold coffee just thinking about what to tell her mother, without reaching a decision. When she gets back in the car traffic is horrible.
She arrives in Stars Hollow early evening. She parks the car in the driveway and sits still in her seat for a while. She hasn't fixed herself up at all, and looks eerily like her mother's first day accompanying her to Chilton, in her denim shorts and tank top, but with a bra under this time. Her mother steps out onto the porch as she turns off the engine. Lorelai holds out her arms, tilts her head. Rory exits the car.
"Hi mom."
"Hi hun." Lorelai walks toward her. "What's up?"
Rory opens the trunk of the car, no use trying to hide it, but making a big deal out of it won't help either.
"I'm back."
Lorelai raises her eyebrows.
"I can tell. What are you doing back?"
Rory's silent, still. On the outside. On the inside she's a mess of everything she felt the last twenty four hours. She doesn't look at her mother but keeps her gaze locked to her overnight bag. She reaches for it, and swallows down as much as she can muster.
"I don't wanna talk about it right now."
Lorelai nods quietly. Rory squints at her. So unlike her to just take no for an answer, unless… She already has an idea of what's going on. Shoot. Rory stifles a sigh. Lorelai picks out one of the boxes from the trunk.
"I just started watching a movie. You want ice cream?"
Rory nods and follows Lorelai inside, leaving the rest of her boxes in the car.
August 17, 2008
When she wakes up the day after she's still exhausted. For a long while she just lies there considering staying that way before remembering that tomorrow is Monday.
She calls Charlie and quits, claiming personal reasons, too tired and disoriented to feel truly bad about it. She turns off her phone and gets up. Sunlight plays its way through the windows and she frowns at it, she is so sick of sunshine.
The house is empty. Luke is at work, and Lorelai has left a note saying she is needed at the Inn because Michel is sick. The kitchen is significantly better equipped since Luke has started living here, and Rory gathers the making of a simple breakfast and heads for the couch.
She stays there all day, and watches old favorite movies, like this is all her scrumptious choice, a treat. Between movies and on bathroom breaks during which she doesn't look in the mirror, she feels like shit. It matters less here, where few facades are necessary, but still.
Luke comes home and gets started on dinner. Lorelai comes home too, and sits down next to her on the couch for the last minutes of Reality Bites. The credits are rolling when Lorelai speaks.
"I'm gonna assume this is about Jess."
Rory glances at her phone, still turned off. I'm the dragon.
"I'll neither confirm nor deny that is the case." She mumbles. "Mind justifying your assumption?"
"This is not about me, missy." Lorelai says, with a little edge to her tone. "What happened?"
"Same thing that always happens with us."
Lorelai sighs, seems unsatisfied, but Luke says dinner is ready.
August 20, 2008
Lorelai leaves the serious conversations be. She's learned from their big clash a couple of years ago, and gives Rory space. But it won't last forever. Not that it matters, this is just temporary, even if that phrase is starting to lose all its meaning.
It's comforting to be home in a way. But after about two days she gets restless and not just for lack of things to do. She still helps out at the Dragonfly, fills in for Michel. The work is mainly at the reception while Lorelai runs around dealing with a variety of things. It's been years since Rory's helped out at The Independence Inn, but she remembers how it's done, and the booking system is much easier to handle these days. It's not the most interesting work she's ever done but she enjoys it, and snickers a little to herself over how upset Lorelai would be if she announced this as her new career.
Then she stops smiling as the thought from weeks ago finds her again: She's good at most things, good for anything, might make a great assistant, in herself not meant for anything in particular. Might as well be someone else. She's settling in for another session of feeling like general crap, but then she hears Jess's voice in her head, clearer than the humdrum she's told herself the last few days, weeks, months; Changing your mind doesn't change who you are. She feels the response in her entire body. And then she answers him. What am I then? Something else. She takes a deep breath and chews on her lip.
Lorelai herself doesn't seem understimulated by her job, but calm and happy and in the moment of every little thing that keeps her busy. Cool with the chaos of the universe, finally. Possibly because it's hers, this, the place, the business, automatic investment. She's at the counter on hold, waiting to order flowers and Rory looks at her.
"Mom."
"Yeah?"
"What would you have done if you hadn't worked as an Innkeeper?"
Lorelai turns to her, smiles, thinks for a few seconds.
"I don't know. Maybe I'd have run a diner."
"You like to eat food, not cook it!" Rory remarks.
"Gosh darn it you're right!" Lorelai laughs.
Rory tries again.
"Well?"
"Well." Lorelai taps her chin with her finger. "Emily probably would have been most comfortable with me living my life like she did, and dad, he probably thought I should do something a bit more adventurous, something to keep me busy, but I think if he had been able to go out and buy me a model-life he would've."
She falls quiet and smiles while considering her own words. Rory sighs.
"But I mean if you could pick anything else regardless of... everything, or anyone."
Lorelai thinks about it, sways a little to the waiting music on her line.
"Well... Then I guess I would've wanted to do what you're doing; the journalism thing."
Rory smiles at her even if the words land like a punch, and she makes herself busy shuffling paper. Lorelai finally gets a hold of someone and dives into the conversation.
Rory hasn't been able to forget it hours later when walking home. Lorelai's dream. Isn't an aha-moment supposed to make you feel better? Probably not. There are those that just confirm what you feared too. Your purpose is out there, running wild, a separate unknown entity, knowing you better than you know yourself. It might pounce you, possess you, or worse, leave you be.
Luke goes to bed early that night in preparation for the first shift, and Lorelai stays up with Rory watching one really bad TV movie. Her mother talks a mile a minute, until about halfway through when she picks up the remote.
"That's it." She hits pause. "You haven't said a word all night, and your penalty is you tell me what happened in New York."
Shoot. Rory thought she had kept up with the conversation. She's really in no position to address what Lorelai wants her to in any honest way. She hasn't looked at it properly yet.
"You can say what you mean." She mutters.
Nice move, establishing her of all people as the straight shooter.
"Fine. What happened with Jess?"
Rory steels herself.
"Him and Nicks broke up." She starts hesitantly.
"Over you?"
She doesn't dare look at Lorelai, remembers all too well the last time they had a conversation of this kind. But that might actually be to her advantage, putting Lorelai off enough to leave her alone for a while longer. She takes a deep breath, lifts her head and looks at her mother.
"We slept together."
Lorelai flinches and Rory forces herself to keep going.
"After they broke up, but still."
Lorelai looks like a deer in headlights trying to talk down the car.
"So… good?" She seems far from ready to know, but she did ask.
Rory clenches her jaw and goes on.
"I told him I loved him, he climbed down a fire escape and hasn't been heard from since."
Except in her head. Lorelai actually snorts, but gets it together when Rory glares at her.
"So, not good?" She says.
She shoots Rory a tight apologetic smile and puts a hand on her arm. Then she picks up the remote and hits play. Rory is grateful Lorelai doesn't ask further. Her phrasing was angled, and she knows it. It's pretty clear to her why he hasn't called. Heck, she might've done the same thing, if the roles were reversed. She hasn't in fact called either and is nowhere ready to think about why. Just, every story that taught her more than she'd like to know about herself has him in it. She dreams about them that night, like her talking about it summoned the dream, they're at Truncheon, two years ago, but touching each other like they did five nights ago. She says she loves him, it's chaos.
August 25, 2008
Michel gets back to work, and Rory picks up shifts so the cleaning lady Marge has time to visit her family in New Hampshire. It helps, being tired for physical reasons at the end of the day. The shifts run into the evenings. On Monday she's about to head back to the house when her mother texts her; "We're out of Pop-Tarts! Get some, but be sneaky when you get back, I have a special stash for them." Rory chuckles and heads for Doose's. It's first when she gets there she becomes aware that she's avoided it.
She and Dean haven't spoken two words since that night at her grandparents. To say it ended badly is just so insufficient, and they both worked hard to have it work out that way. She's thought about it to no end and traced it back to her second guessing herself as soon as they broke up at the Dance Marathon. In hindsight, it's plain to her that it drained all the joy they ever shared from their relationship and then they went on pretending some more before just giving up. It's also plain that her doing so ruined things between her and Jess a little too, there was always something wrong. She sighs. At least she can see clearly now. But it hasn't stopped her from potentially going down the same path with Jess now. For a second she loves him intensely for not calling, for staying away.
"Rory Gilmore?"
She almost jumps out of her skin before gaining composure enough to turn toward the voice. The woman is older, smaller, hair gray, but the same sharp face and old fashioned clothing as when they knew each other; It's her old English teacher. Rory smiles, a bit embarrassed, but happy.
"Miss Milton." She reaches for a handshake and the older woman takes it, her hand gaunty, cool. "Nice to see you."
"You too." Miss Milton smiles her unaffected smile, that made some classmates call her names, but always calmed Rory. "Back for a visit?"
"Not intentionally…" Her voice fades.
Miss Milton nods.
"That happens."
"What are you doing here?" Rory asks, suddenly remembering that Miss Milton lives in Woodbridge. "It's weeks 'til the first day of school."
Miss Milton glances in the direction of Stars Hollow High.
"I like to get started before everyone else, that way I get to be the calm one when everyone is scrambling with preparation the days before. I like to be rested on my first day with the kids."
Rory remembers. At Chilton, Yale, most teachers were like that, seemingly unaffected by anything external, at Stars Hollow High teachers were more likely to be a bit frayed around the edges.
"So, what are you up to these days?" Miss Milton asks.
Rory blinks at the question and wishes she would have steered the conversation better.
"Uhm… I'm kind of a writer between jobs at the moment."
To her surprise, Miss Milton smiles widely.
"Oh, that's wonderful! I always loved your writing."
It's a memory that goes from vague to clear in that instant. She was bored at Stars Hollow High, always ahead of everyone with her work, and had time and time to spare. Miss Milton would give her bonus work, extra assignments-
"Those stories you used to make up, and the poetry!"
She'd enroll her into competitions. She even won one, now that she thinks about it, but it was right around the time she got accepted into Chilton and it just sort of, got lost in everything else.
"Actually I'm more of a journalist." Rory says, a bit lost in thought.
Miss Milton raises her eyebrows, like she wouldn't have thought of it.
"Oh. Well that's nice too."
They smile at each other in silence for a few seconds. Miss Milton reaches out and pats her shoulder.
"I have to get back, it's late, and I still have tons to do tonight."
"Of course, it was nice to see you," Rory repeats, shaking her head. "Good luck this year."
"I'm beyond luck at this point, but thank you."
"Goodbye."
Rory remains in her spot while Miss Milton pays for her microwave dinner, to not crowd her, and walks home slowly after that, shrouded in thoughts she hasn't had for nearly ten years.
August 27, 2008
She can't sleep properly. She's been working, she's even layed off the coffee late at night. But she dreams about him, the only thing making sense to her. She wakes up feeling like she figured something out but it's four in the morning and still no rhyme or reason. She's tired, but can't bear going back to sleep. She gets up.
It's a while later and she's halfway through an episode of Buffy. Later during the day she's signed up to work her last shift before Marge comes back, and after that there's just darkness and possibly some dragons. So I'm the dragon, big deal.
The staircase creaks and Lorelai descends them. She stops at the final step and looks at Rory for a moment before decisively grabbing the remote and turning off the TV.
""Hey-" Rory reaches for the remote.
"Hey yourself." Lorelai tilts her head and sits down in the armchair facing the couch. "Look. I'm not saying you gotta be at the top of your game but I've heard a thing or two about your time at the pool house, and you and TV at odd hours just… freaks me out."
Rory leans back into the couch.
"What's going on with you?" Lorelai asks.
After days of feeling numb Rory's throat gets thick. She tries to force an answer but fails. Lorelai goes on:
"It's been two weeks. You haven't tried figuring this out? You haven't made a list?"
"What list should I make? He had a girlfriend, there was only meant to be one column; Don't." She takes a sharp breath before continuing to spill. "Maybe that's my problem. I'm just stuck trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm an-" her voice breaks- "awful human being. Some chaos entity. Things were fine, then I came along. Now they're broken up, he's moved out, the room I used to live in is empty, and- It wasn't even my first time doing this, like- what is it about me? I don't wanna be this thing. I-"
"Woah, woah!" Lorelai gets up and sits down next to her.
"And don't you dare try to make me feel better about it, just don't! Because I know how you feel about it, and I listened, and you were right-"
"I was wrong."
Rory turns to Lorelai, frowns, stunned.
"I was wrong to say those things to you, like that, then and there." Lorelai pauses and the words start sinking into Rory. "I should have been kinder to you, but... I panicked, and was too harsh, and it just hurt you, it didn't teach you anything good." Lorelai sighs. "Plus I conveniently forgot that I've done what you did, and worse, before that and after, so, maybe I was really yelling at myself, but y'know, it didn't help me either, didn't change me."
She takes a deep breath, puts an arm around Rory's shoulders. The touch burns, but Rory can't bear for it to stop, tears start rolling down her face, just like that, they've been needing to. Lorelai rocks her slightly for a few moments, before going on speaking.
"And I just don't think it's that simple anymore, set in stone. More like; If you live a good life, it's easy to forget, forgive others, yourself. You let yourself change. And anything anyone did to you is just not relevant anymore. If you're unhappy you second guess yourself, and you can't let anything go."
Rory sniffles, twists a little in Lorelai's grip, more than a little uncomfortable at how much her mother sounds like Jess, just, wordier. She doesn't like the reminder and definitely not from Lorelai.
"So, there's no right or wrong, good or bad?" She wipes her cheeks in a jagged motion. "Is that what you're saying?"
"No. Those things are real, but it's complicated-"
"Please." Rory has a hard time handling her tone, too much pent up panic, but Lorelai matches her in sharpness:
"Hey! Sitting on your hands just because you don't like the options, or because the decisions are hard to make doesn't free you of consequences. You make choices, and deal with the results, that's how stuff gets sorted. And there are loads of other categories besides just right and wrong. That's how it's complicated." Lorelai leans back in the couch, and the annoyance surrounding her fades some. "Do yourself a favor and rethink what bad and good means, especially when it comes to people, and think about what kind of story you're telling."
"This is real life." Rory objects.
"Yeah, but it's your life, yours." Lorelai shakes her head. "I hate to be a bad mom or whatever but stuff like this… happens all the time."
"And that makes it okay?"
Lorelai tilts her head from one side to the other like she's balancing a scale.
"Did you behave accordingly with the ideal moral code? No. You should try to not do that again. But it's not the end of the world either. And anyone who tries to make it that way is out to get you." She points a finger at Rory. "Listen, when you're older, like with kids and stuff it's recommendable that you're able to communicate well enough to not wind up in that situation but like, at your age, it's almost mandatory."
Rory lets out a chuckle of sheer disbelief.
"You're an insane person."
"It's five in the morning, what do you expect?" Lorelai yawns suddenly, like her saying the words were all it took for it to catch up with her. "And, look at it this way, the fact that I did it, did it turn me into a horrible person that you could never forgive?"
Rory swallows.
"No."
"And that Jess was in this with you, do you think less of him for it?"
"No. But I-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're little miss perfect so you gotta do better than everyone, but you're not the one who cheated. According to the letter of the law you did nothing wrong. Heck, technically it wasn't even cheating."
"A technicality! You're the devil's advocate."
Lorelai shrugs.
"You gotta draw the line somewhere." She pauses. "Lemme ask you something; Have you ever cheated on a boyfriend?"
"You know I have!"
"With whom?"
Jess. Rory doesn't say it out loud, but Lorelai apparently doesn't need her to.
"The reason you don't think any less of me, or him... when love's involved everything's fair, or unfair, but the fact that you continue to break rules for this person - that's not nothing."
Rory wants to object, but doesn't, because Lorelai's word, faulty or not, trumps that. That's how love's involved, what they have in each other; a baseline, a reality of their own. She straightens in her seat and wipes her cheeks.
"So you need to stop punishing yourself now, ya hear?"
Rory nods quickly.
"I'm not even sure this is what my story is about, right now anyway." She sighs shakily. "I always knew exactly where I was headed."
"And now?"
"Now I gotta figure out something new, something else, but I don't know where to start." She has to take a breath. "It was all this chain: I started Chilton so I could get into Yale so I could study journalism so I could do this thing that I've sort of been doing now, I've arrived, but I don't feel any different."
"You mean you didn't magically turn into someone different?"
Rory stares at her. Lorelai goes on.
"There are other ways to be a writer than to be a journalist, there are other things besides foreign affairs that are important." Her tone is light, like it's nothing, what she's saying. "You've got plenty of options."
Rory feels stupid.
"That doesn't sound too bad when you say it like that."
"Right?" Lorelai smiles. "So where does New York- Sorry- Jess fit into all of this?"
"Stop asking all these impossible questions!" Rory growls. "I haven't let myself think about that."
But the feeling of loving him is back. Everyone was always going on about how great Dean was, so willing to be part of her world, only she didn't need more parts to her world, they all seemed so utterly dependent on her while simultaneously having nothing to do with her. Jess had his own life to mismanage, he left, and that hurt, her heart and her pride. Reminded her of how big and bad it was, the world. How vast. Back then it scared her, made her crawl back to safety. It wasn't about going back for love, it was about correcting an error, i should have never made that decision, may I retake the test? Now, him being gone, quiet, reminds her she can breathe. You know we're meant to be together. How does he fit in to all of this? Maybe he doesn't. Maybe that's the point. He's not a puzzle piece but a whole person.
"Why do you keep bringing him up, anyway? I thought you hated him."
"I don't hate him."
"Since when?"
Lorelai shifts in her seat, leans back a little.
"You know when you were snowed in at O'Hare?"
"Last christmas?"
"Yeah. Me and Luke went to Liz's for dinner on Christmas Eve. Jess was there. And, you know I'm chatty but TJ and Liz put me to shame." She chuckles. "I guess I just noticed how quiet he is. TJ gave him a hard time, like it was all fun and games, and he just, took it. And Liz defended him, but not really, y'know, more like a slap on the wrist for TJ, like it wasn't for Jess's benefit, but for the banter." Lorelai looks far away, like she's back in the moment. "And he was holding Doula. Really carefully, awkwardly, and it struck me; he's just a kid. I never thought of him that way." She taps her fingers on the armrest. "My mom thought of me like a pawn for the longest time, it took me leaving for her to figure out she couldn't do that anymore. I don't think Liz learnt a thing."
"What happened?"
"I just- I felt bad. So I asked him to stay at our place, said Luke wanted to catch up."
"And?"
"And he took me up on it. Even thanked me when he left the next morning. You landed a couple hours later."
Rory stares at her hands and lets it sink in. The thought of Jess, here, at peace with her mother of all people seems so strange, but completely reasonable at the same time, and there's a tiny sense of triumph in her chest, like finally getting to be right about something important.
"Have you talked to him at all?" Lorelai asks.
"No."
"Still haven't learned you can be the one picking up the phone, huh?"
Ouch. Lorelai's told her this before, pushed her towards the radical, daring her. Rory always figured it was meant to discourage her, faced with the monumentality of the prospect, now, after everything, she thinks maybe it's something else, a push into an adventure, any adventure. Or possibly just a choice.
Lorelai heads to the Inn a little while later and Rory goes back to bed. Just before she falls asleep she thinks about why she hasn't called, why she's been grateful that he hasn't either. She knows why, but it's still too big for her to put into words, she's not done with whatever it is she's doing here. She doesn't know where to start, not yet. She sleeps until after lunch, when her alarm lets her know she should go to work too.
After her shift she walks back slowly, not in any rush to get anywhere. She passes Stars Hollow High, her old reading tree has been replaced with a new, smaller one. She'd be depressed about it if that wasn't sort of what schools do. The big doors to the entrance are wide open and there's a sound from several machines, possibly polishing floors, cleaning in preparation for the first day of school. She takes a few steps up the stairs and peeks inside, the corridor is just the same: worn wax floors, walls in unassuming yellow, lockers the same, but repainted since she last saw them. The glass cabinet containing medals and other honors awarded to the school glimmers down the hall. She steps inside, excusing it with Lorelai having mentioned a hilarious picture of Luke in track-shorts. Her footsteps echo in a familiar yet new way, she's rarely been alone in this place, only felt it occasionally. She reaches the cabinet and finds the picture, hidden behind some of the older trophies, and laughs silently before noticing that he looks eerily like Jess and that is another weird rabbit hole.
She shakes her head, and catches sight of her own name. It's a framed piece of paper, a short letter announcing Rory Gilmore winning the teen category of a now closed down Hartford paper's poetry competition, theme: America, and that she's awarded a publication of the piece in the paper and a number of coupons for a restaurant chain which closest filial used to be in Woodbridge - Rory actually remembers Lorelai repeatedly driving there for take-out during her first year at Chilton, but had forgotten why. She chuckles, and lowers her gaze to the poem in question, cut out from the paper and stuck beneath the announcement.
The Empire State Building
I get off the bus and wave goodbye
Get on a subway to head for the sky
It raises me up
to the highest top
And all of the land
can fit in my hand
The buildings are titans, one rooftop each
I try to touch them but can not reach
What I wanted to find was a space of my own
I never expected to feel so alone
So there it is, that's just my luck
I wanted to go here but seems now I'm stuck
There's no one up here keeping the score
Making it useless to reach for more
Someone has built this mountain before
Stories ago I got overgrown
I could see nothing but what I was shown
But maybe it's better to simply be known
Here I can breathe but never be found
A higher road no more than solid ground.
The only thing out there is the way to fall
I am still hopeless, helpless and small
I can see everything but that is all
She blushes all the way to her hair roots when reading her own words. She remembers writing it, being too busy to really get into it, doing it mainly because Milton wanted her to, having fun, but finally trading perfect for done. Milton's words from one of her lessons come loose in her head, dusty from not being thought of for a while; Poetry is the attempt to make raw, unreasonable truth passable to the human senses. Breaking it down in rhythms, making it rhyme. Rhyme and reason.
Rory liked it here too, her oldest school. Her cheeks still burn but she lifts her head and smiles at the text. Her vague reflection faces her in the glass, and her lips move when she makes a list in her head. Then she hurries back to the house to dig up a couple things.
August 28, 2008
She's in the kitchen, table covered in catalogues, and handwritten lists, deep in plans, when the door is opened and Lorelai enters. She stops and stares.
"What are you-?" She shakes her head and smiles brightly at Rory. "Nevermind, carry on."
"Mom, I wanna tell you."
Lorelai sits down opposite her. Rory folds up one catalogue after another and stacks them neatly at the edge of the table, placing her lists on top of them. Then she leans on her arms toward Lorelai.
"I was so busy, I couldn't stop, had to keep going from sheer momentum. And I would have kept going, if grandpa hadn't gotten sick-"
Lorelai opens her mouth but Rory holds up a hand.
"I would have kept going not knowing what I was doing, not feeling any of the stuff I'd worked so hard to achieve. Now… I don't know what I wanna do. But I think that's okay. I'm gonna stay like that for a bit. Reading, writing, figure out what I wanna use this big beautiful education for."
Lorelai smiles.
"Sounds neat."
"And mom…"
"Yeah?"
She hasn't called Jess for a lot of reasons. Some bad - he's just out of a relationship, he should take the first step - some good - they are friends, she knows it, and not talking for a while doesn't change that - and some she hasn't made up her mind about;
"I haven't called him because-" She pauses for a second, feels ridiculous for saying what she's saying, but feels she sort of have to, like with the poetry, to make it comprehensible. "If I go back, if I see him- It'll be forever."
Lorelai reacts exactly as one might expect, with laughter. She squeezes Rory's arm.
"The things you crazy kids say."
"I'm serious."
"Honey, you have no way of knowing that."
"And I still do." Rory's voice only shakes a little.
Lorelai looks at her, smile fading slightly while she mouths okay, then she smiles again, warmly, kind of like she's agreeing to disagree.
"Well, don't worry, you'll have plenty of chances to screw things up."
Rory laughs, as much from surprise as relief, just to tell her mother, her silly little words.
There's a ruckus as Luke enters the kitchen, arms full of bags of food. He says hi and starts cooking, Lorelai heads upstairs to shower and change. Rory gets up and starts clearing and setting the table. She stops mid-motion as she thinks of something.
"I guess you'll be going to Philadelphia next week?" She asks Luke.
Luke turns at her words, frowning, she clarifies automatically.
"To celebrate."
"Celebrate what?"
It dawns on her. Jess hasn't told anyone.
"Nevermind." She says, and hurries into her old room to gather herself and her thoughts.
It only takes a few seconds, then she looks up the number online. She's too excited to be nervous as she dials the number. Now she knows where to start.
September 1, 2008
He considered not going, is pretty sure whoever he told at Truncheon has forgotten about it, he's probably off the hook. But then there's that thought on follow-through again. Giving up, not showing up, not finishing what you start, it's such a Liz thing, a Jimmy thing. He can't be like that, not even to just himself. Plus there was that little, sweet voice in the back of his head, a familiar one, but one he's been cutting off the last couple of weeks because the sound of it made him want to dissolve into atoms. That's part of it too, maybe if he does this it will finally leave him alone.
So. He drives back to New York so early it's still dark. He's taking the test in Brooklyn, just a few blocks from Fort Greene.
In pauses between sections he inadvertently thinks about his old school, so often ignored for the public library just around the corner. And he thinks of his old building, that might be better on the inside but still looks like shit, and how this neighborhood used to be just as bad. He thinks of the East Village, Jersey, Queens, Bushwick, Greenwich. He thinks about the other places so he doesn't think of Nicks's apartment a few blocks south. But because he's trying, he can't help it of course. And his mind wanders to Rory, her hands, her eyes, her voice, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself, like has for the past two weeks, can't do this here or anywhere.
When he's done he's exhausted. He buys water and a sandwich from the vending machine, hasn't eaten since he forced down breakfast, he gets the tuna kind, that way he'll have to eat within an hour to stop it from going bad. He exits the building. It's getting dark. He takes a breath of the finally slightly cooler air, and lights a cigarette. Someone clears their throat and he turns prepared to defend his bad habit.
Nicks is sitting on the steps. He stares at her for a good few seconds before getting it together.
"Hi." His voice comes out breathless.
"Hi."
She takes a gulp from her coffee cup, then gets up and tosses the container in a waste bin next to the steps. She walks the few steps to him.
"How d'you do?"
He stifles a surprised chuckle.
"Fine."
She nods.
"Good. You deserve to get what you want."
He looks at her, searching for sarcasm, sharpness, there isn't any. He shakes his head.
"Jess, what you did was bad." She says.
He forces himself to look at her, to take it like a man. She looks him straight in the eye.
"But, I've done the same thing, and worse, to others, plural, and it hasn't even been for any good reasons, it's been 'cause I was bored, or even just to be cruel."
She reaches into his pocket and takes out his pack of cigarettes.
"When we'd just gotten together, I called Tyler."
Tyler Bergen, legendary asshole from Nick's private school and her partner in crime throughout her teens. Nicks picks out a cigarette and his lighter, then hands him the package back.
"We went out, got drunk, went back to his place and fucked."
He feels nothing, it's too incomprehensible, too far from reach. It has nothing to do with him.
"Okay." He musters the word to be polite, she's earned that.
"I woke up the next day sick to my stomach and told him about it, about everything. He said he was happy being my sledgehammer." She laughs, coldly. "He really did get me."
"Nicks-"
She gestures vividly to shut him up and he does. Then she lights her cigarette.
"I'm not telling you this so you'll feel bad- okay, maybe a little bit-" She takes a drag. "I'm telling you 'cause it was a teachable moment for me. I could've panicked and backed away, ditched you, kept dancing with Tyler, thinking everything was meant to fall apart, that every good thing I did for myself was corrupted anyway, or I could try to make it all make sense. My entire life just-" She sighs sharply. "I don't think my dad spent one moment thinking about me other than like some anecdote, so everything that happened to me, that I did to myself was just senseless cruelty. But when Tyler said that, I finally got it. I had to make an actual choice. And I did."
She falls quiet, looks at him for the first time since she's started speaking, eyes shiny. His cigarette has burned down to its filter and he stubs it out on the sidewalk with slow, deliberate movements, grateful for something to do. He puts it back into the package.
"Have you talked to her?"
"No." His answer is immediate, even if her voice has kept him up at night.
She scoffs, and a cloud of smoke is pushed from her mouth.
"Figures."
"Why do you say that?"
She looks at him again, and the first hint of hostility is visible in her face.
"You think I don't know you, just 'cause you never open your mouth voluntarily? I know you Jess." She drops her cigarette and steps on it with jagged motions, grinding it into the pavement with her heel, until there's nothing left but dust. "You know, right after, at first, I hated you-"
He braces himself for her to tear into him, but she laughs. He blinks.
"-and then I thought, that's a first." She goes on talking, slower. "See, it turns out I had changed. You changed my life, not by doing something but by just being a choice I could make, a choice I made. And I really don't want to go back to what I was before, that's why I'm here." She pauses, before speaking again, eyes to the ground, gesturing to keep the pace. "You make it mean something. You don't chuck it up to senseless cruelty. You turn it into something good, you're a writer, it's what you do." She takes a shaky breath and looks at him. "If you wind up in the same place you were when I first found you- I don't want that for you, but mostly I don't want that for me, to not have made a difference in your life like you have in mine."
"Nicks, I don't-" He starts. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to tell you, what you want to hear. He feels the words in sequence, waiting to exit his mouth, but he holds them back, they do nothing for her.
She looks at him, still.
"You're in love with her."
Willfully, stubbornly. His head goes quiet. It's not a question per se, more a statement, but he answers automatically anyway.
"Always have been," he's relieved to tell her the truth, depleted, but relieved, "tried not to, didn't take. I don't know how to get around it. But I thought-"
"You thought that maybe you didn't have to be alone for the rest of you life, just 'cause you loved someone who didn't love you back."
He looks at her, tries to be grateful for her understanding but it's not exactly cathartic in the flagellant way he prefers.
"I thought I could handle it better, I thought I could handle it."
"I get it." She smiles. "You care about her even when you can't be with her." It's a sad, absent smile. "But it turned out she loved you back."
He can't answer, doesn't trust his voice, he reaches for her hand instead. She lets him hold on to it, just for a second, then pulls back, puts it in her pocket, goes on.
"Just because you did this bad thing doesn't mean you are bad, got it?"
He feels like crying, hasn't felt like that in a long time.
"Why are you saying this? You don't need to-."
"I know." She shrugs. "Maybe I don't wanna sabotage a relationship that's beneficial to my life, to my writing, y'know, a writer is essentially a spy-"
"Sexton."
"The Black Art." She confirms and gives him his lighter back. "Maybe I'm just trying to make sure you don't do this to someone else." She shifts her weight. "Maybe I wanna be good, the bigger person." She looks at him, almost pleading. "Or maybe I just want the upper hand. Would that be so bad?"
He smiles despite himself.
"No, it would be okay."
She stares at the ground.
"And. I think you need to be seen, even if it's by someone you'll never see again."
"We'll still-"
She nods.
"But I can't think about that now."
She backs up a couple of steps. He needs to tell her before she leaves. He raises his voice.
"I am sorry, Nicks. I never meant to-"
She holds up a hand.
"I know you didn't. And if she hadn't shown, you would've stayed with me." She lets out a dry laugh. "Lucky me."
He swallows, she sticks out her chin.
"Seems fair she came and took what was hers."
She turns and takes a few steps toward the pedestrian crossing. She stops there, waiting for the light to go green. When it does she turns back to him, and waves. He returns the gesture and she crosses the street.
He looks after her until she's out of his sight. When he breathes it's like it's the first time for a long while. He's dizzy, and sits down on the steps, wolfing down his sandwich in minutes. He drinks his water. Then he gets going.
He's been closed off since climbing down that fire escape, has chosen to be for a multitude of reasons. He's just been working, staying at Truncheon - his own tiny apartment is sublet and the contract doesn't expire for a couple of months. Matt and Chris know what's happened, but he hasn't talked about it since informing them and they know him well enough to not approach him about it when he's like this. Walking to his car he feels light, though, and that's rare for him under any circumstances. He unlocks the vehicle and looks at the pale stars above him before getting in. He turns the key, leaves the city and just like that, his heart races again.
The inside of his head is howling. How long has it been? What have you been doing? Chickening out. Last time he and Rory did this they dove right in. In hindsight maybe it wasn't their smartest move but still; They had guts, or she had guts. Sure, he had done what he could to break everything keeping them apart, but it's easy playing rough when you're playing the wrecking game, not really expecting to make it out on the other side. On the bridge, that was all her, being honest. She's like that, she reaches a certain point and then she's in it, balancing the rubble, building something, even if it's destined to fall apart. It's not too rough for her. He's fairly sure that if he hadn't failed to catch her, to meet her halfway, to open up and show how invested he was, they wouldn't have fallen apart. She's brave and he often forgets to give her credit for that, most people do.
He drives fast and allows himself to think of her for the first time in weeks. His grip on the wheel tightens as he hears her voice in his head and actually listens to it, to the last words she said to him, relives the feeling of them, of her. He can make her say them again, he has to.
Everything that's happened is suddenly real to him, all of it. What has he been doing for the last weeks? Part of him was so used to dreaming about her like that that it was easy to file what happened away as just another fantasy. What if she-? He nearly panics at the validity of the idea; It's one of her more impressive traits, her ability to move on.
He processes his plan of action to get from here to her while he's driving. She's in Stars Hollow, has to be. That's what this time under the same roof has done to them; He feels like he needs her within reach first of all, maybe he'll know what to say then. He almost turns around at the next exit but realizes he has her number on his phone. Him showing up out of the blue hasn't exactly worked in their favor this far. Maybe a more temperate approach is better, more balanced. But calling her..? Does he have anything besides needs and ill-informed actions? He only has to think about it for a few moments before knowing that he does have words, they're pretty plain, true.
He doesn't turn around, but can't keep going in the opposite direction from where she is without having tried to reach her. He stops by a gas station, gets out and leans on the car, and turns on his phone. There's a voice mail from Luke and a missed call from Chris that he ignores, instead clicking his way through his phonebook. He's deadly nervous all at once but hits dial anyway. Can we sit down? He shakes his head, he's too anxious to sit. Two signals. How does he even start this conversation? As long as he doesn't stay quiet; She needs to know it's him, he's there. Her voice mail. He listens to her message, heart beating faster at the sound of her chipper voice. This is Rory Gilmore. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message. The beep.
"Hey, it's me." He takes a breath. "I love you. I need you to know that. Maybe it's too late. Call me back anyway. I just, wanna talk to you."
A couple of seconds pass while he struggles to end the call. He finally does and gets back into the car driving the rest of the way.
By the time he's in Philadelphia it's late. He parks by Truncheon while walking from the car. He reaches the door to the building and tries calling again, sticking the phone between his cheek and his shoulder while getting out his keys. He pushes the door open and heads to the entrance to the office while the signals go through. He gives up on opening the door momentarily and leans on the wall when he gets her voice mail again, doing his best to quell the panic at the valid thought of her just choosing not to answer his call. He should've driven to Connecticut. He hangs up, takes a breath and lifts the key, it seems heavier than before. He turns the key, pushes the handle down and opens the door.
The space is full of people, and light, voices. He drops the phone, the key. Time slows down, embarrassing moments of confusion before Matt comes up and puts his arm around him and starts leading the crowd in For He's a Jolly-Good Fellow. Jess looks at the faces. There's mostly Truncheon people, the ones he likes best, writers, people who do business with them- And Luke. Remember to breathe, his uncle is here, how-?
And then blue. Next to Luke, Rory. She's here. Her expression tentative, eyes wide. It's first at the sight of her that he smiles. And she immediately mirrors it.
The song transforms into more cheering and people start making their way toward him to shake his hand, to congratulate him, on him getting his GED, since he didn't finish High School in the first place. Shit. He knew there was a reason he only seemed to mention it to people if he had to, and now-
This is a Matt idea if he ever saw one, that guy is getting an earful later. But now… Now it's too late to do anything but be happy and grateful that all these people came to celebrate. He shakes his head, smiling, and graciously accepts everyone's congratulations. It's chaotic, but nice, most people share some anecdotes on their high school experience and a few even got their GED the same way he did or turns out to be planning to.
He glances in the direction of Luke and Rory and breathes easier when he sees them still there; talking to a writer, and a bartender from The Hatter, Rory leaning slightly on Luke. She's in a striped, sleeveless dress, pretty, casual. He's not feeling it himself, but is overwhelmed by all the people, all the attention, that doesn't seem to fade. He does surprise himself though, making conversation, accepting a beer from Chris, not freaking out, acting like this is all to be expected, like he deserves it.
Luke and Rory seem to make an effort to let the other guests have a moment with Jess first, but he looks at them, at her, distracted. He's not in the mindset for this, he's in the mindset for her, he has to make this stop, so, he does the unthinkable: He takes up his keys and clanks them against his beer bottle for attention. It's rare, maybe even unheard of, for him to do this voluntarily but now it's just a way to get on with it. People do turn around, form an awkward crescent around him, and fall silent.
"Listen," he starts, big smirk on, "I don't see what the big deal is. I just unfucked myself."
People start laughing, some start booing. He holds out his hands.
"But I appreciate you being here! Matt-" He turns to his friend. "I never would've thought to do this-"
Matt waves his hands, shakes his head.
"Woah man! I didn't either, to be honest I'd kinda forgotten what date it was." He covers his face in a dramatic gesture, and people laugh harder, then: "This is all Rory."
Jess stops smiling. That he didn't see it. He looks at her, along with the rest of the room. Her eyes shimmer, and her face is red, but she looks at him, smiles a little. He's having trouble composing himself, and plasters on a grin in desperation.
"I guess I should've known, miss valedictorian."
She shrugs, feigns confidence in her adorable way.
"You're getting slow in your old age."
He laughs, genuinely, and she beams. He has to get to her.
"Thank you." He says.
She nods at him. He has to finish this.
"Most people do this when they're younger, and I don't- I don't really know why I bothered doing it now-" Why is he being sincere all of a sudden, he was doing so well? "I mean, there's a ton of practical reasons, but it never felt like a practical decision to me. It just seemed stupid that I hadn't before-" He could be here all night, he makes eye contact with Chris, trying to signal distress. "So, all of you turning up kinda caught me by surprise. But I'm glad you did. And it makes me think, maybe what stopped me back then, can't take me now." He looks at Rory, she's listening intently and he kind of loses it, talks without paying attention to himself. "And I guess that's worth filling a room over. And just because I didn't plan this myself, you being here, like this, doesn't mean I didn't-"
"Control your poet!" Chris hoots at Matt who starts laughing, along with a few others.
"Jess Mariano, valedictorian of Truncheon High, everyone!" Matt yells, and people start clapping.
Chris turns up the music and people start moving through the room again, this time without making a line up to him. But Matt pulls him into a hug, and he exhales.
"Thanks man." He says.
"Hey, you were tail-spinning."
"Let this be a lesson, you ever want me to do any kind of verbal work I'm gonna need prep time."
"Noted." Matt clanks his beer to his, then points to the corner. "You okay with this? Blink twice if you want me to get you out of it."
Jess smiles, and meets Matt's eyes without blinking once.
"Okay, what does that mean?" Matt says after a couple of seconds.
"It's your system." Jess says. "Figure it out."
Matt sighs.
"It was cool of her to call, make this happen." He pauses. "You should go talk to her."
"On it."
Jess heads to the corner. And as soon as he's in front of Luke and Rory it's not enough either. He reaches for words, Rory rescues him:
"Hi."
Simple, easy. He smiles.
"Hi." Then turns to Luke. "Hi."
"Oh boy." Luke sighs.
"I tried-" Jess starts at Rory, but doesn't finish.
There's too much to say, and stuff that doesn't really require words but privacy, and Luke is right there. He sends a quiet thanks to her for not telling Liz. He doesn't quite know what would've been worse; His mother showing up or not.
"So. Congratulations are in order." Luke steps closer and hands him an envelope.
"What is this?"
"Traditionally I guess it would be a contribution to a car or your college fund but-"
"Luke-"
Jess tries handing it back, but Luke refuses it.
"I don't know, put it to something of use to your future, I won't interfere in what, you seem to be pretty much on top of things."
Jess snorts.
"Well, appearances can be deceiving."
"You're doing good. I'm proud of you, so- Just let me give you this something, alright? I didn't even know you were-"
Jess feels bad.
"Sorry, it was kind of a need-to-know-thing. And I didn't wanna tell people in case it didn't pan out-" He's spiralling, again, so he raises the envelope and waves it around. "See? Here." He puts it in his lining pocket.
Luke nods, content. Silence settles between them momentarily.
"Nice speech." Rory says.
Luke snickers, and Jess points a finger at her.
"I'm holding you responsible."
She smiles.
"What are you gonna do about it?"
He stares at her.
"I'll think of something."
She laughs, eyes gleaming, and he has trouble breathing again. Luke clears his throat.
"I'm gonna-" He looks around, points to another corner. "-go talk to that other old guy."
He heads off. They remain, facing each other. He needs to touch her. Eric Burdon's voice streams from the speakers, Matt is obsessed with The Animals. The baristas from the coffee shop are moving to the music.
"We should dance." He says.
We should? His head echoes. Yes, he insists, because there was something else involving high school he was meant to do, that he didn't follow through on. Back then he wasn't particularly looking forward to dancing, mainly because he didn't know how to, but he was looking forward to making her happy.
"We should?" She's surprised.
He nods and takes hold of her. He means to do it properly but discovers that despite his will he still doesn't know any steps, so he winds up with hands around her waist holding her close, moving in some kind of rhythm. She's surprisingly graceful, all that schooling, moving, dancing, socializing has rid her of her inner klutz. She is a dream to lead even for an unskilled dancer like himself, which is probably the point. The ladies are taught to accommodate any idiot who couldn't be bothered to learn the moves. He aches a little at the thought. His grip on her tightens and he puts some more gusto into his steps, to give her something to hold onto. It's a good song. She puts her hands around his shoulders, her cheek to his.
"You did this for me." He says.
She chuckles.
"I thought I did it to you."
"Just 'cause a tradition disagrees with me doesn't mean I don't see its benefits."
She pulls her face back a bit, and gives him a glare that just makes him want to kiss her. Fortunately he doesn't, he'd have no way of stopping, circumstances be damned. It never stops.
"I did say I loved you, didn't I?" She says. "Just 'cause you-" She interrupts herself and goes red again.
"Just 'cause I what?" He says, out of breath from just hearing the words again.
"Just 'cause you were inside me at the time doesn't invalidate it or anything." She mutters.
It's real, it really happened. He's been wanting the confirmation since waking up with her that morning. He moves a hand from her back up to her cheek.
"Okay."
His own voice sounds strange from elation, he has to get her alone. He looks around, but sees no way out, so he presses her closer instead, and she gives a little soft gasp. He can't tell the difference between their heartbeats anymore, the one in his chest, the one under his hand on her skin. He needs to know how long he gets to keep her.
"Are you staying or going?" He asks.
Her eyes start glittering.
"Actually, I'm looking into going back to school. Get my masters, get my bearings. Turns out I really like school." She smiles warmly, softly.
He exhales, taken and frustrated, still smiling though. She raises her eyebrows.
"But you meant now, tonight."
He nods.
"I'd like to stay tonight, if that's okay, anywhere is fine."
"I'll think of something." He drags his knuckles down her spine and she sighs, a tad trembling. "So, if you're going back to school-" He starts, she interrupts:
"If I start from Stars Hollow, it's more than 22.8 miles, more like 200 miles, I've googled it. I might exaggerate a bit, but…" She pauses and puts her cheek to his again. "I somehow don't think it matters to us." She finishes, lips moving against his neck.
He inhales, feels like he's going to lose it, so he decides to keep clinging to words.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you."
There's a pause.
"Jess, can we skip the apologies?" She pulls her face back and looks at him. "I think we've had enough excuses." She stops moving and stands still. "About your speech-"
"You mean my rambling?"
She laughs quietly, and nudges him to start moving again, he obeys, albeit a little distracted.
"Yeah." She says. "Did you mean what you said about things being different now?"
"I hope they are. I think so." He did finish it, school, and he is dancing with Rory, finally. "I haven't changed my mind about you though." He puts his lips to her jawline, and she leans heavier on him. "I don't think I ever will."
She exhales.
"I haven't changed my mind about you either. And that's my point; This thing, I'm done being sorry about it, 'cause it stops me from looking at it and seeing it for what it is, I don't wanna miss out on it anymore."
He pulls back his face and stares at her. You deserve to get what you want. You make it mean something. You don't chuck it up to senseless cruelty. Nicks wasn't talking about just herself. Being sorry is not enough, emotions don't matter unless you act on them. He has to live his life forward. That's the way of righting what he's done wrong, owning up to what he wants, making it meant to be. Willfully, stubbornly.
"You're right." He mumbles. "I knew this would happen-" He shakes his head. "I fucking knew it as soon as I saw you, I just didn't want to admit it to myself." He leans his forehead to hers. "I'm done second guessing myself."
"Me too." She whispers.
The song has changed, The Staples, Chris has apparently taken back control. Jess can't bear to part from Rory, so he starts moving with a purpose again, dancing being the only acceptable reason for standing so close together, at least this early during a party.
"About five hours driving, without catastrophic traffic." He mumbles.
"One hour by plane."
"Three door to door."
She chuckles.
"Ever the optimist."
"Trying to keep it real." He makes eye contact. "I want it to be real."
"It is." She confirms, and then puts her cheek to his again. "Hey, I've picked a book for you."
He exhales, with a surprised smile.
"For the book club?"
"Yeah. It's The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society."
He laughs.
"I never would've picked that book."
She shakes her head.
"You just don't know you like I do."
He holds her tighter, stroking his face to hers until they're facing each other. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, lips just an inch apart.
"Rory," he says, letting himself hear it and smile at the sound.
"Jess," she says right before he kisses her, or maybe it's just an affirmation.
September 2, 2008
It's hours later. Dawn is breaking outside the open window, and they're in bed together, in the guest room above Truncheon. Luke drove back and Rory had to say no thanks to a lift, cheeks red. Not that she needed to, it was clear Luke was just asking to be polite.
They've had each other a few times already including once in the miniscule shower, where he managed to stub his toe and still kept going because she begged him not to stop. He's made her happy and let her do the same for him. She has fallen asleep, body wrapped around his, one of her legs gloriously across his hip. He feels like he could sleep too, but holds himself awake for this, being full, filled by the moment, by the person he's with.
He should rest, it won't be long until he's overtaken with need again, he already feels it, a low hum, or she wakes up and jumps him. He laughs silently at the thought, his body aching for all the right reasons, and takes a shaky breath from being so damn happy.
There's a distant crack and rumble that goes on and on and continues, as rain starts falling, hammering the window sill, street below, roof above. It's a violent, loudly tapping roar, and cool air start climbing into the room, for the first time in months. She moves in her sleep, strokes a hand down his arm and rolls her hip softly against his side, makes a cooing sound.
He thinks about two years ago. Two years, five months, six hours. The door closing behind her. He shivers slightly, and wraps the sheet over the both of them. Truncheon is silent, but it's like the voices of all the people still linger. And her voice, she's been here now and he'll never unsee it. He thinks about how they've reinvented time tonight, how he'll have to start counting from a new point in it starting now.
He goes to sleep, but not for long. The next day has already begun.
Notes: Paraphrased poetry by Richard Siken "Litany in which certain things are crossed out" once again.