Chapter Three
2014
"My grandpa is going to love this," Rory said, running her fingers along the sheet of protective plastic covering the antique map of Colonial New England from 1708 that was resting on the counter in front of her.
It was so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. The names of cities and landmarks she had spent her entire life knowing like the back of her hand seemed as if they were part of another world on this map, with territories stretching all the way into Canada and the handwritten names of so many places that were similar, but not quite right. Like Nantucher. New Albanie. And of course on the right of the page, the vast "Western Ocean." Even Pennsylvania was spelled with an I.
"I'm totally winning best Christmas gift this year," she continued.
The shopkeeper smiled at her comment. He slipped the delicate paper into a protective cardboard cover and placed it into a bag for her. She took it from him excitingly, thanking him, and then turned around to see Logan standing behind her with a smile on his face and his hands in his pockets.
"You win best Christmas gift every year," he replied.
"You don't know that…" Rory said as they made their way out of the little shop and into the busy street. "I could have lost my title as champion after all these years. It's possible."
"Mmm, I don't think so," said Logan. "When it comes to understanding the mind of Richard Gilmore, I think you are second to none."
Rory smiled again. She had almost forgotten how nice it was to be with a man who knew her - who knew her family. She'd been with her fair share of men over the years, most of them nice and a couple of them even serious for a while, but they knew her as Rory the freelancing journalist. The professional Rory. The girl without a steady home base, who roamed where the stories took her and hadn't really planted roots.
Logan knew the professional Rory too, of course. But he also knew that she already had roots, and he knew exactly where those roots were planted and how deep they stretched. She could talk about her family with him, expound on memories that came to mind when she was missing them, and get something more than a 'that's funny' or 'they sound nice' in response. He knew them. And Rory liked that about him.
She'd always liked that about him. At first, the knowledge that he knew her grandparents felt slightly odd and off putting. His presence at the Yale Alumni Party they had thrown for her took her for a loop, and she wasn't sure how she felt about Logan straddling two different parts of her life - her Hartford life and her college life. But, over time it had become a comfort. She'd been able to let him into an aspect of her life that she hadn't been able to share with Dean or Jess, and she never felt like she had to explain them to him the way she had with others. He just understood.
She missed that more than she even realized.
"What about you?" she asked as they stepped into the crowded street, the bright multicolored row houses towering over them. "Have you gotten any Christmas shopping done yet?"
"Well...considering it's April. No, I haven't," Logan answered with a laugh.
"Hey, it's never too early to start Christmas shopping," said Rory. "This is why you're always in such a scramble in the second week of December, trying to get everything last minute. Cause you don't just buy things as you come across them throughout the year."
"You don't know that," Logan shot back, teasingly repeating her own previous statement. "My Christmas shopping habits could have changed after all these years. It's possible."
"I doubt it," Rory replied. If there was one thing that she was certain about, it was that Logan Huntzberger would be a procrastinator until the day that he died. It didn't matter how much he had grown over the years.
"It doesn't really matter anyway," he said with a shrug. "It's the same thing every year. A new tennis bracelet for Shira. A bottle of scotch for Mitchum…"
"Do you come home for the holidays?" Rory asked.
She tried to make it sound breezy, but there was no denying that it was a probing question. The idea that Christmas and New Years might be one more opportunity for she and Logan to spend some time together was not lost on her. She was always in Stars Hollow for Christmas. She always went to her grandparents' Christmas parties, the parties that at one time were frequented annually by his parents. If he came to Hartford, it might be the first time they spent time together at home. And that felt… different. Somehow.
"It depends…" said Logan with another shrug.
"Depends on what?" asked Rory.
"On a lot of things," Logan answered with a sigh. "On whether or not my Dad and I are talking at the time. On whether or not Honor popped out another kid..."
Rory felt her heart ache for him a bit at the comment about Mitchum. There was no doubt in her mind that their relationship had been strained when he moved to California, but Rory had assumed that things were better now that he was once again working for the family business. Hearing that he and his father still had issues was surprising to her. Though… perhaps it shouldn't be. They always had issues. Even when they were getting along, they still had issues. The last thing she wanted to do, however, was spend too much of her precious time in London talking about Mitchum.
"Honor has kids?" Rory asked, focusing on the latter and happier part of his statement.
"Yeah," Logan said with a smile. "She has three. Two boys and a girl."
"So you're like… an uncle and stuff?"
"I am an uncle and stuff," Logan confirmed with a laugh. "Though, I don't get to see them as often as I like."
Rory felt yet another twinge in her heart. With as close as he and his sister used to be, she had to imagine that living away from her was the hardest part of the last few years. Hearing that there were now children involved as well must have made it all the worse
"Yeah, but you get to be the fun exotic uncle," she said, attempting to lighten the mood a bit. "Who brings them presents from foreign lands."
"Ah yes," he replied. "The oh so exotic gifts of Cadbury chocolate and Twiglets."
"You could get them something from here."
Rory looked around her at the dozens of storefronts and stalls lining the sidewalk of Portobello Road. Though, her quick glance around the vast expanse of goods surrounding them wasn't really making her suggestion seem all that insightful. There really wasn't much here that would interest children. Even the food was mostly fruits and vegetables.
"Being six, three, and an infant, I don't think they're in the market for antique cricket bats or novelty tea pots…"
"You never know," said Rory. "You could instill a deep love of English sport into them at a young age. They could take the world by storm, scoring...goals and...running around in circles with those little round… helmet… things…"
"Know a lot about cricket, do you?" Logan teased with a raised eyebrow.
"I've heard of it."
They continued to stroll down the road in a comfortable silence for a while, eyes roaming storefronts and fingers gliding over goods on display. It was a beautiful day - an uncharacteristically beautiful day for the time of year in London. It seemed like somehow the proverbial April showers had missed her, though she wouldn't dare say such a thing out loud.
"Have you ever noticed that a lot of these stores seem to sell the same stuff?" Rory asked as they passed yet another stall selling an assortment of brightly colored scarves, bejeweled compact mirrors, and beaded necklaces. Her eyes landed on a silver and turquoise enamel cuff bracelet, and she could have sworn that she'd already seen the same exact piece about three times already.
"Yeah…" Logan answered before an all so familiar smirk settled on his face. "It's almost like this place is a tourist trap."
"Hush, you!"
Rory's protest was quick, but admittedly half-hearted. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. The vast majority of people around them were undoubtedly tourists, many of them speaking a variety of languages and holding up the flow of traffic by taking pictures of all the items that they weren't going to actually purchase. Still, there was something about the place that always lifted Rory's spirits. The colors. The architecture. It was iconic.
"I like this place…" she said, which honestly was defense enough. If she liked it, that was all that mattered. Places like this became tourist cliches for a reason, after all. And besides… she technically was a tourist.
"I didn't say I didn't like it."
Rory smiled and shook her head. It was such an old game between them, one that was just as infuriating yet endearing now as it had been in college. He would tease her for the sake of teasing her, not even fully invested in whatever opinion he was defending at the time. The only thing he was invested in was getting her riled up.
"It has great produce," he continued unironically, nodding over to his left where a woman was selling baskets full of brightly colored fruits and vegetables. "In fact… I need some peppers and onions for dinner tonight…"
"No!" Rory scolded. "This is supposed to be a fun day out! Not an excuse for you to do your grocery shopping."
"Who says grocery shopping can't be fun?" Logan asked with another smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "You got your map. Let me get my peppers!"
"Fine…" Rory conceded with an over dramatic sigh. "Get your peppers."
She followed him as made his way over to the vegetable stand, watching as he looked over the selection and painstakingly searched for the biggest, brightest, and best picks he could find. She smiled as he chatted away with the seller, her mouth watering at the promise of whatever homemade meal he was planning on making with those vegetables.
Logan finished up his purchase, and the two of them continued to make their way down the busy street. He threw his arm around her shoulder, and she was suddenly filled with an overwhelming contentedness. She had Logan's arm around her. She had the perfect gift for her grandfather. And she had a feeling of lightness within her that she hadn't felt in such a long time.
As far as she was concerned… it might as well have been Christmas.
2036
A small gasp of recognition slipped out of her lips as Rory lifted the gold frame out of the box in front of her. She'd forgotten about this. She'd forgotten about so many of the things in this box, all of them reminding her too much of her grandfather for her to dig through over the years. Even now the pain was still raw, but if there was one thing that Rory had become very well practiced in over the last few months, it was muscling through persistent bouts of pain.
She ran her fingers over the glass, leaving behind a trail in the dust that had settled over the surface with time. With the grime wiped away, the hand written letters on the antique map became clearer, prompting a nostalgic smile on her face. The walls upstairs were already pretty full, and the frame was a little bit dated and could use replacing, but Rory set the item down over in her 'keep' pile without a moment's hesitation. Though, she couldn't imagine there would be a single item in this box that wouldn't make the cut to the 'keep' pile.
Looking back into the box, her eyes landed on an old leather copy of Mencken's Chrestomathy, the very first book her grandfather had ever given her. She reached down to take it into her hands and bring it to her nose to inhale the unparalleled scent. But, just as she did the chime of her ringtone and the buzzing sound of vibrations interrupted her.
Her first response was to sigh at the interruption of her journey down the nostalgic pathways of her mind, but she quickly got over the feeling of disappointment. It was probably the call she had been waiting for all day.
She picked up the phone that was sitting on the still unopened box next to her. But, Rory's heart dropped when she saw the name flash across her phone screen. It wasn't that these calls weren't appreciated. Or even looked forward to. More often than not, they succeeded in putting a smile on her face, which was alway welcome - especially lately when genuine smiles were a little hard to come by.
It's just that it wasn't the name she had been expecting, and the pins and needles she'd been waiting on were getting worse and worse. Unfortunately, however, it didn't seem like they were going to go away any time soon. She glanced briefly at the time, her heart constricting yet again at the thought that she should have gotten the call hours ago.
Hoping that perhaps this call might at least distract her for a few minutes, she slid her thumb across the screen and lifted the device up to her ear.
"Hey, Mom," she answered, bringing her other arm up to her forehead to wipe at the beads of sweat that had started to accumulate underneath the bandana wrapped around her hair. It was ungodly hot in this house… and the physical labor wasn't helping.
"Hey, sweets!" Lorelai greeted cheerfully on the other line. "I was just calling to see if you've heard anything from Ri."
Rory's heart dropped again. Her hopes of this call being a distraction flew out the window. She had not heard from Ri. She had not heard from her since she'd dropped her off at the security gate, going over her checklist for the hundredth time, making sure she had everything she needed: her passport, her pounds sterling, her outlet adapters. By her estimate, she should have landed hours ago… and she was still waiting for a call.
The idea of her baby girl traveling to a foreign country all by herself wasn't exactly something that Rory was completely comfortable with. She wanted to go with her. She wanted to make sure she didn't get lost or mugged or any number of the horrible things Rory had dreamed up in her head since the moment Riley had booked her trip. But, Riley wasn't hearing of it. She wanted to do it alone. She was too independent and too adventurous for her own good. She was too much like...
Well… she was different from Rory in a lot of ways.
"Not yet," Rory answered with a sigh.
She pinched the middle of her loose v-neck t-shirt with her thumb and index finger, pulling it toward and away from herself in a fanning type motion. The flow of air provided some relief from the heat, but not nearly enough to satisfy her at the moment. Deciding that it was time to do something about it, she stepped over a pile of books spread across the basement floor, and made her way over to the staircase.
"Oh," Lorelai answered, disappointed. "When was her plane supposed to land?"
"This morning…" Rory replied. This morning at 5:35 Eastern Time, 10:35 Coordinated Universal Time to be exact. Not that Rory was obsessing over it or anything.
"Aw," said Lorelai. "Well, she's probably just getting settled in, getting over the jet lag. I'm sure she'll call before the day's over."
"Yeah…" Rory replied, unconvincingly. "I hope… I just can't help but be worried."
She started climbing up the wooden slatted staircase to her kitchen. When she reached the main level of her house, she took a quick left turn, walking through the kitchen and living room before hanging another left into the hallway leading to her bedroom.
"Well…" Lorelai replied as Rory moved. "Now you know how I felt all those years when you were off jet-setting around the world all by yourself without your poor terrified Mommy."
"That's different," Rory replied with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. "I was in my mid-twenties. And my thirties. Riley is nineteen. She's only been on her own for a year. And she hasn't really been on her own either. She's been in a dorm with an RA and a meal plan and roommates."
"Oh hun…" said Lorelai. "In time you will learn that age has nothing to do with it. You're going to worry about her for the rest of your life. It never ends."
Rory sighed. She knew her mother was right, and she knew that she likely hadn't just called to check in on Riley. If confirming that her granddaughter landed safely was her only concern, she probably would have just sent a text. There was no need for an actual phone call. She knew her mother had ulterior motives, and she knew that those motives were the reason why she'd been getting far more calls from her lately in general.
She came to a stop in the middle of her hallway, turning her body toward the thermostat on the wall. Her plan had been to blast the air-conditioning for a bit - something that she normally wouldn't do on a relatively cool and breezy afternoon like this. She'd probably come to regret it when it came time to pay the bill, but for now she was more focused on her comfort. Though, when she looked at the number displayed on the digital screen, she felt anything but comfortable.
"So... what are you up to?" Lorelai asked, changing the subject to her in a way that confirmed Rory's suspicions regarding her motive.
"I'm just cleaning out the basement," Rory answered. "Getting rid of all the stuff that isn't mine and taking the things that are mine out of storage..."
"How much stuff have you been moving around, exactly?" asked Lorelai. "You sound out of breath."
"I am out of breath," Rory confirmed. "It's hot as hell in here, and now I'm worried that my HVAC is broken…"
"Your HVAC is broken?" Lorelai asked. "Didn't you have a new system installed just a few years ago?"
"Yes," Rory confirmed with a nod of her head, her old system having reached its last legs when Riley started high school. "But the thermostat says it's seventy-one degrees in here, and it feels like the middle of the Sahara."
"Oh, Rory…"
Her mother's tone was packed with implication. She sounded partially concerned, partially sympathetic, and slightly uncomfortable. There was a certain teasing quality to it as well, a strange sort of amusement accompanying all of the other emotions she was feeling. It took Rory a couple moments to figure out why her mother had reacted in such a way, but when she realized just exactly what Lorelai was staying, she started shaking her head in denial.
"No!" Rory exclaimed, fanning at her t-shirt yet again.
"Do you think maybe it's…"
"Don't say it!"
She didn't say it. But both of them knew it didn't really need to be said. It wasn't as if this was the first brow-raising incident. At this point, they were getting too frequent to ignore - no matter how desperate she was to ignore them.
"On the bright side, it's a lot less expensive than fixing a broken HVAC system," said Lorelai.
Rory's shoulders slumped in resignation. Suddenly overcome with her physical, emotional, and apparently hormonal exhaustion, she trudged back into her living room where she flopped onto the cream-colored oversized couch.
"Great," she said, yanking the bandana off her sweaty head to let some air onto her hot scalp. "Now I'm not just a fifty-two year old divorcee, I'm a fifty-two year old divorcee going through menopause. The men will be lining up around the block."
"Hey…" said Lorelai. "Fifty-two is the new forty-two."
Rory scoffed.
"And to think I was complaining about my metaphorical sexual dry spell. Now it will be a literal dry spell." She started rubbing the tension out of her brow. "I should just hang up my hat and resign myself to my new single, childless life. Maybe I'll take up crocheting. Or gardening."
"Do I need to remind you of The Tulip Bulb Incident of 2003?"
Rory actually allowed herself a laugh at the memory. In all honesty, gardening probably wouldn't be the best use of her time. Plus, it wasn't like she actually did have any spare time to start a new hobby. Chilton was keeping her pretty busy these days, having volunteered to teach a summer English class. And when she wasn't teaching, grading, or planning her curriculum for the next full semester, she was writing. Yet, even with how busy she was keeping herself these days, she couldn't help but fall victim to her own melancholy more often than not.
"Come on, kid," said Lorelai. "Your life is far from over. Fifty-two is not old. Your kid is out of the house. You have nothing to tie you down any more. I know it's a lot to adjust to, but this is the start of a brand new chapter in your life. An exciting one. Take it from one woman with disastrously short lived marriage under her belt to another. Things worked out okay for me. Better."
"Yeah, well… that's different," said Rory. "You had Luke."
The stinging sensation of tears started prickling at Rory's eyes. She reached up quickly to wipe them away and took a deep breath to calm herself. She was so sick of crying. She was so sick of the sadness and the anger and the resentment and the entire storm cloud of emotion that seemed to hang over her constantly these days.
"Rory…" Lorelai said, her tone firm and pleading. "Don't you remember the crazy Cheryl Strayed mental breakdown I went through all those years ago? And that was when I had Luke. Luke wasn't the answer. And you don't need a 'Luke' to be happy. You know that."
Rory took a deep breath, exhaling some of the tension and emotion that was building up within her.
"I know…" she said. "In my head I know you're right. But… I just can't help but feel like… it would be easier if I did."
"I get it," said Lorelai.
It would be nice to feel wanted again - to feel desired again. It would be nice to have someone to talk to other than her mother and her nineteen year old daughter. To help her feel less lonely. It would be nice to be brought to orgasm by something other than her rabbit. It would just be nice to have that confidence again.
"But, hey…" Lorelai continued. "If you really need a quick boost, you could always find some young hot Chilton dad to have an impromptu PTA meeting with if you know what I mean…"
Rory laughed.
"Unfortunately, most of the Chilton dads I know are still married," she replied. "And my age."
"Yeah. Like I said. Young."
Rory smiled. Her mother's attempts to cheer her up were appreciated if a little bit disingenuous. They both knew she wasn't a spring chicken anymore. Though, she supposed age was relative. She was just about to respond when she was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, putting an abrupt end to their conversation.
"Mom, I have to go," she said, standing up from the couch and stretching out the limbs that were already aching from the physical labor she'd been doing. She made a mental note to take some Aleve sooner rather than later.
"Okay, hun," said Lorelai. "Love you. Let me know when you hear from Riley."
"I will," said Rory. "Bye."
With one more farewell from Lorelai, the phone call came to an end. Rory took a deep breath, preparing herself for the confrontation that no doubt awaited her on the other side of the door. She momentarily cursed her mother's timing. If she'd just called fifteen minutes later, she'd have an out and she'd be able to vent out all the frustration from whatever was bound to happen within the next few minutes. As it was, she was once more faced with the fact that she would be left to deal with whatever emotional fallout occurred alone.
Putting her phone in her pocket, she walked into the entryway and sighed as she saw the familiar head of greying black hair through the windows of her front door. She'd told him to come here, and yet she couldn't help but feel as though opening that door was a torture that she would much rather avoid than endure. Unfortunately though, she didn't have that luxury. And the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she'd get to this entire chapter of her life being over.
"Hey," she said as she opened the door. Her tone was curt and her expression stone faced. And she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at the memories of all the times seeing him on the other side of her door had made her smile. It all seemed like a lifetime ago…
"Hey," he responded in turn, his hands finding the back pockets of his jeans. An awkward silence fell over them as they stood there for a while, her hanging in the doorway and him waiting to be invited into the house that for a while was his home.
If there was ever any place that he truly considered a home… She honestly wasn't sure.
"You have stuff for me?" he asked eventually, getting quickly to the point.
Rory silently stepped to the side and gestured for him to come in. He followed her lead, walking through the front door without comment. They stood there awkwardly for a couple more seconds as Rory closed the door, and realizing there was not going to be any small talk, Rory got straight to business.
"It's in the basement…" she said, taking a step forward.
He followed her to the living room, through the kitchen, and around the corner to the doorway leading to the basement. The entire way, the only sound between the two of them was the tapping of their footsteps against the hardwood floors and the loud echo that reverberated through the concrete walls as they descended the stairs to the basement. When they reached the bottom, Rory threw her arm out in a Vanna White like gesture to the stack of large Rubbermaid containers, cardboard boxes, and milk crates full of vinyl records piled up against the wall underneath a small dirty basement window.
His immediate response was to scoff and shake his head in disbelief.
"Really?" he asked, his tone biting and his record time for starting an argument being beaten once again.
"Jess…" Rory responded with a frustrated sigh.
She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to argue. She just wanted him to take his stuff out of her house and leave. She honestly wouldn't have cared if they'd said nothing past the first two 'heys' they'd exchanged at the front door. In fact, she'd been hoping that they wouldn't.
"This is all of my stuff, Rory," he continued, ignoring her implied plea for him to just be quiet and get this over with.
"And this is my house," Rory bit back.
When she and Jess had first gotten married, they'd talked briefly about moving out of this place, but Rory was hesitant. She'd been through a lot in this house. She'd put a downpayment on this house with the royalty money she'd gotten when she published her first book. She learned how to be a mom in this house. Riley took her first steps in this house. The lines displaying her growth over the ages were still marked on the doorframe of the linen closet at the end of the hall. Rory battled the COVID 19 lockdown in this house. She wrote her second book in this house. And her third. And her fourth. It was the first place that had felt like a home to her since her mother's house in Stars Hollow.
She didn't want to leave it.
It was admittedly small, but both she and Jess were well past the age where they wanted to have more kids. And at the time they were looking at Riley going off to college in the next couple years. Ultimately, they decided it wasn't worth the hassle of the move. Rory had been grateful for the decision to stay of course, but not nearly as grateful as she was now that everything had fallen apart.
"You've let me keep this stuff here for years, Rory," said Jess. "Before we were even married. Before we were even sleeping together!"
"Well too bad! Things change!" she yelled. "We got married. And now we're divorced. And I want your stuff out of my house!"
She couldn't stand to look at it. And it wasn't only because it reminded her of him. Or because it reminded her of her failure of a marriage. It was because it was such a living metaphor for the bedrock of their entire relationship.
For years Jess would pop in and out of her life. He was there when she'd first moved home, encouraging her to write her book and being the confidant that she so desperately needed at the time. They'd reestablished their friendship in those months, and he'd become one of the most important people in her life. But nothing had ever happened between them. Rory wasn't in a place where she was ready to be with another man, and her time and attention was laser focused on being a mother to her new baby daughter.
The first time he moved away was when Riley was about two years old. Chicago. A friend of one of his partners at Truncheon had asked for some help getting his own publishing business off the ground, and Jess was getting antsy in Stars Hollow, missing the big city, wanting something new. He was always wanting something new.
The next city was Portland. Then Austin. He did a stint in LA for a while when his dad got sick. Atlanta. San Antonio. He'd come home for a few months between each move, staying just long enough for Rory to get close to him again, for Riley to get close to him again.
The first time they slept together, Riley was ten. She'd been riding her bike through the dirt trails that snaked through the woods at the back of their house - too fast as usual - and collided into a rock in the ground, sending her flying over her handlebars and ending in a minor concussion, eight stitches, and a broken wrist. It was halfway through the tearful phone call she made to him from the hospital that she realized her feelings for him had returned. He'd been the first call she made. Not her mom. Not her dad. Not Luke. Jess. And he'd come.
He'd come to the hospital and stayed with them until Riley was discharged. He'd driven them home, effortlessly picking up the heavy and lanky ten-year-old girl after she'd fallen asleep in the backseat, exhausted from the trauma of the event from being forced to stay awake as she was under observation for her head injury. The image of him walking up the stairs of her home to her daughter's attic bedroom, laying her gently down on her twin sized bed, and looking so much like the father figure the girl desperately wanted brought tears to her eyes and thoroughly ruined any chance of her getting over her newly discovered feelings for him.
But it wasn't enough for Jess to stay. The only thing that stayed was his stuff. It sat in her basement for years, stationary, collecting dust while he came and went as he pleased, always knowing that it would be there when he got back. Waiting.
She couldn't even stand to look at it.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with all this stuff?!" Jess asked, bringing her back to the present with a raised voice . He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and fixed his jaw in frustration.
"I don't care what you do with it!" Rory shot back. "Get a storage unit! Take it to a friend's place. It doesn't matter to me. But it's not staying here!"
Jess scoffed again. He walked toward the pile and bent down, picking up a dusty blue milk crate and setting it on top of a forest green Rubbermaid container, grumbling under his breath the entire time. He then lifted the larger box from the bottom and started making his way back up the steps. Rory reached down herself and took a couple of the smaller cardboard boxes, knowing that the quicker everything was packed up, the quicker he would be gone.
And the moment they made it outside to her driveway, Rory rolled her eyes at the sight of his red Toyota Corolla parked at the front of her house.
"Really?" she asked, mimicking the same sardonic tone he had given her in the basement just moments before.
"I thought you had a couple of boxes of stuff that I left behind! Not an entire basement full of crap!"
He popped open the trunk of the sedan and placed the milk crate inside. Rory walked toward him, handing him the boxes that she had brought up and watching as he made as much room as possible in the already relatively full trunk space. Once they were packed away, he walked around to the driver's side of the car and opened the back passenger door, sliding the larger container into the seat as there was no way it was going to fit in the trunk.
They repeated the process with a couple more trips up and down from the basement, silence once again reigning over them - much to Rory's delight. They packed up the car as much as they could, and when Jess closed the passenger doors behind him he took a deep breath.
His hand found his hair again as they stood in the doorway, trying to navigate the best way to bid each other farewell. It was funny. As painful as the constant arguments between them were, the worst exchanges to get through were actually the mundane 'hellos' and 'goodbyes.' The small talk was so much worse than the actual conversations. Though, this time around it seemed there was something else keeping Jess from climbing into the car than just an awkward goodbye.
"Is Riley home?" he eventually asked, hesitantly.
"No," Rory answered.
The look that passed over Jess' face at her reply was strange, and she wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He looked annoyed, frustrated even. And when he started shaking his head, Rory began to wonder if he actually thought she was lying to him.
"I want to see her," he said. "I want to talk to her."
"Well she's not here," Rory responded, defensively.
"Where is she?"
The question was framed almost as an interrogation, and Rory was suddenly overcome with a seething anger. If the implication that she was lying to keep Riley away from him wasn't enough to set her on edge, the audacity of him to stand there and grill her over the whereabouts of her daughter was. It wasn't any of his business where Riley was. And if he wanted to know, he could ask her himself.
"I don't know," Rory replied in only a partial lie. "She's nineteen! She doesn't keep me abreast of her whereabouts every second of the day. Ask her yourself."
"She won't answer my calls."
"Well, that's her prerogative," said Rory with a shrug.
"And you have nothing to do with it?"
With that single question, Rory suddenly felt herself traveling back in time. A memory flashed before her eyes so vividly that it was almost as if she was standing in the middle of it all over again. She could smell the undefinable scent of her grandparents' Hartford home, see the walnut paneling on the walls reflecting the warm ambient light. She could feel the Persian rugs under her feet and hear the soft sound of piano music floating through the air. Her father's leather jacket was so clear in her mind that she felt as if she could reach out and touch it here and now. And she could hear his voice as he begged her to understand.
"I didn't call you back because I didn't want to. Me. Mom had nothing to do with it. You promised me. You promised me at Sookie's wedding that this was going to work. That you were going to be there. You promised me!"
"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Jess," she said. The anger that had been so prominent in her tone just seconds ago was fading away, being replaced with something more like sadness. "If she doesn't want to take your calls… then that's her choice. You promised her things would be different this time. You promised her that you were going to stay. For good. All she's ever wanted was a father, and you broke her heart - "
"But I'm not her father, am I!?" Jess interrupted. His tone was at first angry. But, as another silence settled between them, Rory could see a sadness of his own start to settle over his features. "You've spent the last twenty years making that abundantly clear."
Rory's breath caught in her throat as she inhaled sharply.
In all the fights they'd had over the years. In all the screaming and crying they'd done in the last few months, he had never said that to her. He'd never said anything like that to her. And she didn't know how to take it. She didn't know what it meant.
Jess fixed his jaw. He broke eye contact with her and sniffed as she stood there stunned into silence. Thankfully though, he didn't want for her to reply. This fight was over. They'd put that comment on the shelf for the next one. If there was a next one.
There was bound to be a next one.
"I'll be back tomorrow with a truck."
With that, he climbed into his car, turned on the engine, and backed out of the driveway. Rory watched as his car disappeared down the street. The anger and resentment that usually simmered within her every time he left was mysteriously gone. Yet, the emotion that was left in its place was hardly an improvement.
She didn't know what it meant.
TBC...
AN: I know a lot of you are probably really disappointed that we didn't jump directly to Logan's reaction about the passport. But, I needed to establish the exposition for Rory before I devoted too much time to them. I promise the next chapter will get back into his head.
I also know a lot of you were hoping that Rory didn't end up with Jess. And I hear you. But, I honestly couldn't have it be anyone else. It would have been one OC too many in my opinion, and the emotional weight just wouldn't have hit as hard were it a person we didn't know. I also wanted to play a little bit with the Jess/Luke Logan/Christopher mindset that so many people seem to default to and turn it on it's head a little bit. To me, Jess has always been the one with the wanderlust and the inability to make roots. Not Logan. And as I've said before, I do have a lot of respect for Jess as a character. There is a lot of conflict between them, obviously. But this won't be a one sided Jess bash. There are reasons they didn't work out on BOTH sides.
Thanks again for all your lovely reviews. And thanks to all of you giving this a chance even though you were a little hesitant at first. I hope the plot line and the OCs continue to grow on you. :)
