Chapter 151
"Paris, I don't see why we have to go back this soon."
"Your mom suggested it," Paris shrugged, "I didn't want to be rude."
In truth, there was another reason Paris wanted to leave sooner, though she agreed with Lorelai's advice and had found Lorelai very helpful so far. Paris wasn't ready to go home, and she knew that this was the next step. Being in Stars Hollow, talking to Lorelai…all of that was her moving closer to where this might eventually go. Philadelphia was a distraction. Philadelphia gave her the same couple days- but in Philadelphia, she could avoid, rather than address. And that was the goal.
Paris couldn't believe the situation she'd found herself in. She was seven months pregnant. And, while massively pregnant, knew that she was falling out of love with her husband. An eventuality no one could have anticipated. And yet, here she was, trying to make sense of a world in which she was still (as she always was), alone, trying to accomplish her dream. But her dream had shifted. Now, her dream was her daughter.
Admittedly, in her head, she wasn't calling the baby Marie. She loved Marie Curie, and always had. But something felt off about the name. Maybe because she'd chosen it with Doyle. Maybe because it was something that had been admirable to her for a long time, and she now thought her daughter deserved a different legacy. It was complicated. Right now, everything felt complicated.
She knew Rory's was the right place to go. She knew Rory would always hold space for her, even when the space was cramped, and she knew Jess to be good, and kind, and always follow Rory's lead. Their place was too small to be the kind of people she knew they were- who held the door open for those around them, who loved them, who felt safe and ensconsed in the comfort of their sanctuary. But small as it may be, Paris knew it was always there for her, and in this moment, she'd taken advantage of it. She hoped to do so less- but at the same time, she knew this was unlikely to be the last time. Things weren't right. That she knew. Things felt off all the time, when she was at home with Doyle, when she was at work…even before he lost the job. The only times that she felt right was when she was just with the baby…late at night on the couch, when Doyle had gone to bed, watching CSPAN and decompressing, as she tended to do, absentmindedly rubbing her bump and feeling like she knew the person that she was holding. And in a way, she did. It was hard to explain.
Paris Geller had never felt maternal. She'd never even anticipated wanting children. Maybe, if anything, to carry on her legacy- but children were a burden she certainly had no strong intention of taking on for sentimental reasons. And it wasn't love for Doyle that made her want them.
That said, Paris did love Doyle. She knew that to be true. She'd loved him, against all rhyme and reason, for years. When he was unambitious, lazy (similar, not the same), petulant, childish, immature, juvenile, and just…not where she was, Paris remembered their easy chemistry, the repartee, the ambition that once lived within him that had attracted her in the first place, the commonalities and compatibility that had made her so sure, and the love that she'd felt, that she still knew she felt- that made this so complicated. She wouldn't have agreed to marry him, gone through with it, and gotten pregnant if all of that hadn't stayed front of mind for her.
But it wasn't love of Doyle that made her want her daughter. She knew, before they even tried to concieve, that not only was she ready for this, but she wanted it. She understood the biology. She was reaching a certain age, her hormones were doing certain things- it was logical, it made sense to her. there weren't any questions on that front. But she could have pushed back against biology. What she couldn't push back against was the feeling of warmth she had when she saw Rory interact with Lorelai, the coldness of interacting with her own mother, the feelings of love and care she'd developed for Lorelai, Rory, and everyone else in her life she'd developed sentiment toward.
Once upon a time, Paris Geller had worried that she was a sociopath. She had concerns, true, pressing ones, that she was devoid of all sentiment, that she could not love, that secretly, she was one of those people that just lacked the capacity. It wasn't true. That had been proven to her sevenfold, again and again and again, not just in how she'd grown to love Rory, but how she'd grown to love Lorelai by extension, and her growing fondness for Jess, and just this constant, persistent little itch in her brain that she knew to be love. Paris Geller could love. And she did, hard. Against all reason.
She knew she loved Doyle. But it was changing, so much, as she came to love her daughter. She loved her daughter in ways she couldn't really explain, even if she'd tried, and Paris was brilliant. But it was incomparable and incomprehensible, and Paris knew better than to fight with the truly impossible (as much as most things wouldn't compute on that scale for her). She loved her daughter in a way she'd never before been able to conceive of love. She'd known she would- but she also had no idea, and it was overwhelming and bowled her over. She knew Lorelai understood. Not in the every mom loves their kid like that way, but in that she'd seen how Lorelai loved Rory. She knew Lorelai understood. Rory didn't.
That was the hard part. She knew that Rory was her rock, her safe place to land- but that she didn't understand it yet, if she ever would. At last conversation about the topic, Rory still didn't want children. And Paris and Rory had once been able to toast on that topic. But things were so different now. Paris knew that Rory's perspective might have changed- but she still hadn't experienced this. She hadn't even experienced marriage. Paris didn't want to hurt her friend, but she wasn't sure how much Rory could help her. And honestly, Rory had a judgmental streak to rival the best of them. Paris rememberd it from the early days of Ascher Fleming.
"She did?" Rory asked, dubiously, "She didn't say anything to me."
"It was when you were talking to Sookie," Paris said quietly, "I'm going to go home Sunday. She thought it might be nice to have a couple more days just relaxing with you and your Philadelphia friends. But I can go home right away if you want."
This was the battle Paris always fought. Feeling unwanted, feeling unloved- those were as much home to Paris as was San Pellegrino, or J Crew, or summers in Martha's Vineyard. She knew those feelings like the back of her hand. It was rare she had them around Rory anymore, but the imposition was beginning to weigh on her. She knew she had outstayed her welcome (damn tiny apartment- she knew it wouldn't bother Rory nearly as much if they had more space and time) and she knew that Rory wished her gone. That was enough to nearly push her out the door. But as much as she hated to admit it, she needed Rory right now. She needed a couple more days to herself before she had to go back to Boston, and Doyle, and her job, and the life she was feeling such discontentment with. Here, it was her and her baby, and that's what felt right. She was desperate for a few more days of creative literary banter with Rory's Philadelphia crew (a group that had already impressed her with their combination of wit, kindness and chutzpah). She wanted that idyllic connection. She was incredibly grateful to Lorelai for extending the invitation for her to visit again in a couple of weeks, and she knew she'd take Lorelai up on that. As much as her feelings were confusing her right now, Paris knew she'd be escaping at any given opportunity. But at the same time, she didn't want Rory to feel that Paris was impeding on her life, or taking advantage of her, or pressing their friendship too far. Paris still felt sometimes like she was lucky to be friends with Rory, that it was a privilege, rather than a right, something she had to earn. So, as great as her need was, she extended the offer. She knew she would pack up and leave immediately if Rory asked her to. She wouldn't push, even though she'd suffer. She was grateful for what Rory had already offered, and wouldn't ask her for any more.
Rory inhaled deeply. "No, that's okay. Stay a couple more days. Sunday sounds fine. You can hang out with Jess and I and the Truncheon guys."
Paris exhaled with relief. "Thanks, Rory. I promise I'll be out of your hair then."
"Take the time you need," Rory said, meaningfully. Paris nodded. She knew Rory was her best friend, but it didn't hurt that she was constantly proving why.
