title: Watercolors of the Past
disclaimer: Let's just say that if I owned GG, things would be drastically different. Starting with more Michel! And Milo, of course.
notes: I love reviews, I love reviews, I love reviews hey hey hey hey! lolz. Thank you so much for your fantabulous comments! You guys are too nice to me. :) I hope you like this next installment!
chapter.three: you ask much of me
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He had been in her bed. Just two short hours ago, Jess had been in her bed. With her.
He was gone now, the only remnant of him being the thin novella laying in her hands. Written by Jess Mariano. She ran her slender fingers over the white words; nondescript lettering, clear-cut format. Simple. It could be anyone's name written there.
But it wasn't. And really, it couldn't be. Those letters, those letters making up his name were the only ones that would make sense on the plain black cover of the small black book.
The sheets were cold. The bed wasn't made, the covers still mussed, but the sheets had lost their warmth. His warmth.
She ran her hand across the smooth white surface of the pillow. Just to check.
It was like he hadn't laid there. Right there.
She had never felt more empty than she did at that moment. At that realization.
He was finally ready. For this, for them. The question now lay on her:
Was she?
Rory Gilmore - strong, secure, stable - was a mess. She had been for months now. Years, really. She was spiraling downwards, faster and faster everyday.
She couldn't even remember what she had been like. What she was supposed to be like. Who she had been, so many years ago, when his passionate kisses behind closed doors were enough.
But really, they had never been enough. She knew that all those years ago, and she knew that now. The sheer intensity of him (of them) had always been all-encompassing and overpowering. And it still scared her.
Everything scared her.
And so she sat, her body motionless, her mind floundering. She felt herself speed up, she felt the spirals get tighter, she felt the wind being knocked out of her.
She had pushed away everyone that could help her. Lorelai, Lane. Even Paris.
But really, she needed to help herself.
Jess Mariano - now strong, secure, stable - was actually content.
She couldn't depend on him to save her.
Her rational mind, although rusty from misuse, argued that she could fix this on her own. She could go back to the way she used to be.
She just had to remember what way that was.
Perhaps timing was cruel like that. Then again, maybe just this once, timing would be empathetic.
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It was mid-afternoon now. The warm October sun poured in through the designer curtains that she had ordered just a week before. After careful deliberation, she had decided to go to the Russian Tea. She had made a commitment to the DAR, and OldRory wasn't one to break her word. That much she remembered.
It was part of her mission to get herself back.
And so she sat at an old oak table in the party dress her grandmother had picked out for her. It was pointless, really. Her being there. Her mind wasn't in it; not that it needed to be. The event was currently going off without a hitch. In any normal given situation, she would be silently congratulating herself for her mad-party-planning-skill. But that was OldNewRory. And NewRory was all about OldRory, and OldRory would wonder why in the hell she was wearing a pink cocktail dress.
It was all very confusing.
"Excuse me, miss?"
Her head lulled to the left. "Hmm?"
"You're grandmother is looking for you," the waiter offered shakily, as any man would after an encounter with Emily Gilmore. "She's in the main hall."
"Thank you," she nodded, making no move to get up. He lingered for a moment, wondering if he should say something else. Like, the older woman was on the verge of causing a scene. Taking in her somber expression, he chose not to.
Rory took a few minutes to collect herself before standing up and smoothing out her dress. Looking at the scene around her, a deep blush crept up her neck to her cheeks.
Jess had seen this Rory.
She couldn't believe she had let him see her like this.
She couldn't believe she had let herself become this.
Shaking her head, she brushed past a group of society wives. Tears threatened to fall as she passed the Balalaika players.
"Rory. Rory!" Her grandmother materialized out of nowhere and grabbed her arm harshly, digging her nails deep into the exposed flesh. "Where in the world were you last night?"
Her shrill voice pierced through the girl's tunnel vision. Rory looked over at her, holding eye contact for only a moment, before pulling herself away and disappearing through the exit.
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Two hours later, after driving around Hartford in a dazed and dumbfounded state, she found herself furiously pounding on the door of her childhood home.
It was blue now. Blue-er than it used to be. At first, she thought that it was just time that had made the house seem newer, but upon closer inspection she realized that there wasn't peeling paint flakes or cracks in the siding. It really was new. The whole house looked new. The only thing missing was the white picket fence. And a golden retriever.
She had been so preoccupied with the look of the house that she had forgotten she had knocked on the door. That explains why she jumped when it opened.
"Oh, hi," she stumbled.
Luke's face broke into a grin. "Rory! Hi." He moved in for a hug before weighing how awkward the situation could potentially be. Luckily, sheer excitement overwhelmed both of them as they embraced. He pulled her inside the house without asking if she could stay, but Rory didn't mind. She was glad to see him happy.
"Is my mom here?"
"No, actually," he made his way into the living room, and she followed. "She's picking up some dessert from Doose's. Not that I asked her to go."
"I'm sure," Rory nodded.
"I'm cooking dinner. She should be home soon."
"Great. Good." Her attention was being focused on the new look of the interior of the house, too. New furniture, new wallpaper, new everything.
(Was there room for her here?)
Luke looked back into the kitchen, most likely watching for billowing smoke, then asked, "So, how are you?"
"Good. Mostly," she added. "You?"
"Oh, good. Good."
The hug didn't do them in, but as the conversation dissipated, the silence that settled over them took the situation to a new level of awkward.
Looking around, Rory noticed another new addition to the Gilmore household.
"Oh, wow. Is that..."
"Paul Anka. Yep," Luke said miserably.
Not a Golden Retriever, but close enough.
Rory moved closer. "He's adorable."
"And spazzy," he held out his arm to stop her, "You may want to stay back."
She came to a halt, eying the dog curiously. "Okey-dokey."
A second silence loomed overhead. Desperate to combat it, Rory looked to the back of the house.
"Do you need to be in the kitchen?" she tried.
"There's a timer."
"Oh."
"But when that goes off..." he motioned behind him.
"Right."
"Making roast," he smiled.
Rory nodded. "Fancy."
"Fancier than Spaghetti-Ohs." It was said under his breath, but Rory grinned at the jab to her mother's cooking skills.
She had missed this. She had missed Luke and her mother and the house.
She had missed Spaghetti-Ohs.
Wringing her hands nervously, she decided to broach a particular subject that had been weighing heavily on her mind in the past hours.
"So, um, Jess came to see me."
Luke's head shot up, and a look of...protectiveness overcame his features. "He what? Oh, Rory, I'm sorry. I -"
She cut him off, "No, don't apologize. That's why I'm here, actually."
Luke stared at her incredulously. "'He burn down your grandparent's house?"
She couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but she laughed nonetheless. "No. He...he told me I was being an idiot. And he was right. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. For helping him get in contact with me and everything."
Luke shook his head. "I didn't think he was going to go and see you."
"I'm glad he did," she said sincerely.
"Oh," he looked surprised; more so curious. But he knew better than to ask. "Well then, you're welcome."
A noise outside caught her ear, and she turned to the window excitedly. "You hear that?"
"Sounded like a car door to me," he smiled.
Jumping past Luke, Rory shot out the door. She got outside and down the steps before Lorelai heard her. Looking up, her mouth fell into an elated scream as she dropped her bags and enveloped her daughter in a bear hug.
"I am so sorry-" Rory began.
"Oh, honey."
"I am so stupid."
"You aren't stupid."
"I am stupider than stupid. I am stupider than Anna Nicole and Britney Spears and...Whitney Houston all rolled into one."
Lorelai smiled, pulling back to get a good look at her best friend. "Yeah, what in the hell happened with her?"
"Mom. I'm apologizing here," she whined.
"Babe, you can apologize until you're blue in the face, but don't ever, ever compare yourself to Anna Nicole."
Rory nodded furiously, hugging her mom again. "Deal."
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notes: 'Kay, this one totally ran away from me again. The one time I plan out a plot...it's so not going how I meant it to. Is that a good thing? lol. More and more chapters keep tacking themselves on! sigh Oh well. I'll keep writing as long as you like it. Oh, and there will be Jess in the next chapter. Sorry he didn't make it in this one! Thanks for reading!