Down and Out the Rabbit Hole

One thing she knew: she didn't want to start a family with Logan. This she knew because she hadn't fought for it when there was no baby factor, so any fantasies of a happy family she might entertain from time to time had to come from another place – fear. Yes, it was probably that. She hadn't asked Logan to give up Odette to be with her when she had had the chance. Damn, she even had turned down his marriage proposal back in the day. Still, there was something there, otherwise her final decision would come easier. Did she love him? Yes, she did. But was it a sort of half-way-there type of love that was not so happily advertised in St. Valentine's day, one that made you stick long enough to keep on having sex with a person, to cheat on people, but not strong enough to make you want to marry? Sure, that had to exist, life was not a Disney film. Still, she was 32. She was considering having the baby. She loved Logan. Weren't those things enough to start a family with someone? It turned out they weren't.

Once the decision was made, she felt better. The decision, though, came with its own set of doubts. That was alright, she was in that journey now. She let herself go down the rabbit hole.

Well, for one, if that type of love was not enough, which was? Was there such a type of love? Had she known such type of love? She brushed through her past but quickly decided against following that train of thought. After all, she had more important things to decide.

The main point was: if she was to have the baby, would she tell Logan? At first, when she found out, she thought she wouldn't. Especially after talking to her dad. Still, her dad had had the chance to decide whether or not to be in her life, so the problem wasn't the same. She considered telling Logan. How would she want him to be involved? She dreaded Logan convincing her to start a family together. She somehow feared her own strength in the matter. It distressed her that a grand gesture from his side would make the balance tip ever so slightly and make her change her mind. She was starting to fear that she was tippable like that, and she suddenly despised herself for it. She imagined a Life and Death Brigade kind of gesture, with storks carrying baby shower gifts to a newly bought family mansion, hers and Logan's. Rory shuddered. Had that been their relationship, a series of flashy events that had hypnotized her like colorful cartoons catch kids' attention on TV? Had they had the epileptic Pokémon version of relationships? Had she been pokemoned by ostentation? She suddenly felt queasy and had barely the time to make it to the toilet and start puking. Boy, was being pregnant fun. She not only threw up regularly but was constantly constipated, as if her body had gone completely dumb and switched the usual direction of her passageways for fun.

OK, it could very well have been the pregnancy symptoms kicking in, but she was almost sure that her bodily reaction to a big Logan gesture meant that she didn't want to start a family with him. Which she had already stablished. But had again reconfirmed. Oh well, it was not so bad to double-check. It was important, after all. Wow, unraveling was tiresome. So, back to square one – if she were to tell Logan, and make very clear that she did not want to start a family with him, how would she want him to be involved? And the million dollar question: did she want his money? Somehow, her current situation seemed relevant to the thought process.

She was working at Andrew's bookstore.

She was occasionally helping Luke at the diner in exchange of rooming in the apartment (he had offered money, but she had refused).

She was running Stars Hollow's Gazette for free.

She was back in Stars Hollow.

She had no journalism gigs at the moment.

So, she was broke and lame. And yet she was… fine with it?

Yeah. She sort of was fine with it. Why?

That was weird. She had a very low paid job, an unpaid job and yet another unpaid venture, two of them in fields not even remotely related to her career. She was back in her hometown and avoiding the Thirty-Something Gang as if she was somehow better, which she wasn't. She realized she was self-entitled and mean to be thinking of them like she did. And yet the shame about her situation was not kicking in. Why? She couldn't resist it and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Rory. Listen, I have a very dumb question and I don't think there's anyone else who can answer it. Or that I will trust with the answer."

"Huh? OK. Shoot, Gilmore."

She suddenly felt self-conscious. Why was she ringing Jess? "Well, you see, I'm back to living in Stars Hollow, and working with Andrew temporarily. I'm broke. The Gazette only brings me joy when I get to kick Esther's ass. And somehow, I cannot find the trigger in me to be ashamed for the situation, and I think I know why, and wanted to check if the same had happened to you in the past. I think it's because of the book. Like I have a purpose now, and it's OK that conditions aren't perfect as long as they allow the book to happen, as long as I do everything right this time. Did that happen to you? At the beginning?"

The answer was slow in coming and Rory feared she had stepped out of line calling him. Why, though? They were friendly, and it had been Jess who had…

"Yeah, I felt that. The book sort of put everything in perspective at the time. As you said… conditions were not perfect. But it was suddenly OK, if I at least managed to get that right."

"How did you do it? I mean, you were so young… How did you find that moral compass so quickly? How were you so totally cool, not truly caring about social or family expectations? How did you manage to build up those standards for yourself, alone… and without "perfect conditions", to put it lightly? I… I really admire you."

He laughed on the other side, and she felt herself blush. Where had that speech come from?

"Ror, I think you give me more credit than I deserve. If you think yourself silly for not figuring those things out earlier, don't be so hard on you. You had perfect conditions, and I think it's a bit more difficult to figure that kind of thing out without a major kick in the ass. As long as you do in the end, I guess it doesn't matter how long it takes you."

Perhaps it did. She was suddenly worried. "I hope you're right. I hope it's not too late."

"You'll be fine. And I'm glad you didn't need a major kick in the ass."

She suddenly felt queasy again.

"I need to go, Ror. Hope that was helpful."

"It really was. Take care, Dodger."

She swore she heard him hesitate for the briefest of moments, but he hung up without a further goodbye. Was it the "Dodger" that had thrown him off? She felt suddenly bad, but couldn't pinpoint why. The urge to puke came back, and that particular line of thought was abandoned temporarily.