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: ThankyouThankyouThankyou so very much for all of your wonderful reviews! I love you all like woah. ;)
'Kay, I just went to edit this, and it's long. Like, 11 pages long (when they're usually only 5 or 6). It is...over 3,000 words. You've been warned...:p
chapter.four: you called it love
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"Oh my god, I can't believe you're here!" Lorelai squealed for the umpteenth time. Paul Anka's ears fell back and he scurried up the stairs at the sound, but she was too preoccupied with her daughter to notice.
The two were sitting on the couch, facing each other. Luke had long since retired to the bedroom, leaving the pair downstairs to catch up. Since then, they had plowed through two pints of ice cream and stories of the summer.
Rory had chosen to gloss over the bits and pieces containing Logan, leading Lorelai to believe that something may be off. Then again, she could have been refraining out of respect for her mother, knowing that she had never been a fan of the blond Yalie.
Truthfully, Lorelai didn't know what to think of her daughter anymore. But she wanted to be hopeful. She wanted to believe that things would go back to normal. But not knowing the events surrounding Rory's return made it difficult to come to any sort of conclusion.
"But the worst was the DAR."
Lorelai laughed. "The DAR was worse than doing community service alongside felons?"
"I don't even know. I just...it was fine at first. But looking back, I cannot believe I...," she trailed off again. "It was bad."
"You know what's bad? Sores and Boils Lane."
"You have me beat," Rory conceded. "Is it just me, or does Taylor get more high strung as he gets older? I mean, you'd think that he'd begin to mellow; take up bridge, get a cat. Something."
"Nothing in this town can be normal."
The duo paused for a moment, Lorelai not sure if she should ask what she wants to ask; Rory not sure if she should share what she wants to share. But if they were to rebuild what they had lost, she needed to be honest with her mother.
"I need to tell you something," Rory began. "And I'm a little nervous, because I don't know how you'll feel about it, but I don't want to not tell you, either. Especially since we're good again. I mean, we're good, right?"
Lorelai smiled reassuringly. "Hit me."
The cup of coffee in her right hand was set aside, wanting nothing to distract her from what she needed to say. She was confident. She could do this.
"Jess came to see me."
Her mother's eyes grew wide. "Oh my god."
"I know," Rory nodded.
"W-why?" she sputtered.
"He wrote a book," she grinned, proudly.
Lorelai wasn't as convinced.
"A book? Like, an actual book?"
"Yep."
"With words. Sentences? Full sentences?" she emphasized skeptically.
"That's the definition of a book, yes."
"Sorry. I just never even heard him speak in phrases, let alone sentences. Have you seen it? Is it real? Oh my god, have you read it?"
"I haven't gotten the chance yet. I've skimmed."
"Wow. A book."
Rory rolled her eyes. "You can stop saying the word 'book'."
Sucking on a spoonful of Cherry Garcia, Lorelai cocked her head to the sided quizzacally. "What does that have to do with you?"
Shaking her head, Rory looked away. "You'll laugh."
"Probably," she grinned.
Her daughter glared, chucking a throw pillow at her.
"I'm kidding," she relented. "I won't."
Sighing, Rory ran a hand through her hair, choosing her words carefully. After a few moments, she decided to tell Lorelai the way he had told her. "He wanted to tell me that he couldn't have done it without me."
The moment the words left her mouth, an evil smirk appeared on the older woman's face as the wheel of witticism began turning in her maniacal brain. However, instead of offering any of the dozen or so comments that instantaneously filled her mind, she settled for a drawn out and sweet sounding, "Awww."
"Don't laugh," Rory pleaded.
Holding up her arms in an I surrender fashion, Lorelai held a straight face. "I'm not."
"There's more," Rory continued.
"Color me curious."
"A lot more, actually." The blush that crept up her cheeks acted as a red flag to Lorelai.
"Rory?"
"We were going to go out to dinner, to catch up," she explained. "But, Logan showed up and invited himself to go with us, and it was a disaster. Logan was an ass, and he treated Jess like dirt, so Jess left and Logan and I fought."
"'You and Logan break up?" she asked softly.
"Not yet."
"Oh," she quieted, letting Rory finish.
"Jess and I talked after all of this, and he told me that I was being stupid. For living with my grandparents, for not talking to you, for dropping out of Yale."
Lorelai's forehead knitted together. "Good for him," she said uncertainly, almost questioningly. Her tone wasn't lost on Rory, but she decided not to address it. Instead, she went on with her recap of the days events.
"It really woke me up. I mean, he's doing so well, and he did this amazing thing, and what have I been doing? Wasting my time. Partying with Logan. Working for the DAR. Finishing up my community service." Rory panicked, "Oh my god, I didn't tell him about the boat."
"Woah, you haven't been wasting time," Lorelai assured her. "This was quite a learning experience for you. That's just as valuable as school. Although I would have preferred it if you were actually at school, but the important thing is that you're back. You're back, right?"
"If you'll have me."
Lorelai smiled, tapped her chin and said, "I'll have to ask Paul Anka."
"Yeah, well, you may not want me after I finish my story."
She settled back down, getting comfortable. "There's more? I'm intrigued."
"I slept with Jess."
"What?" Lorelai shot straight up. That was not what she had been expecting. There at least could have been a little hemming and hawing; one doesn't just dive into a sentence such as that.
"I had sex with Jess," she reiterated.
"You had s-"
"Like, four times." The younger girl buried her face in her hands not to hide a look of shame, but the one of relief she knew was visible. Nothing left to hide.
"Rory!" Lore's exclamation forced her to look up, startled.
"I know," she agreed tentatively.
Lorelai had no words. She literally lost her ability to speak in those few seconds. Jess. Rory. Talk. Book. Sex. Book. Sex. Logan. Fight. Sex.
Eww.
How long had this been going on? A week? A month? Since May? That's how long it had been since they'd spoken. Almost six months.
That's how much she had missed out on.
Finding her voice, she was able to croak out, "Well, how long was he here?"
"One day. Well, one night. It was a night-morning thing." Rory paused. "You so don't need to know that."
When her mother didn't respond, she went on, trying to assure her.
"I'm breaking up with Logan."
"So you can be with Jess?" she snorted.
Rory instinctively became defensive. "I'm breaking up with him regardless."
Shaking her head, Lorelai repeated, "But you want to be with Jess."
"I need to work on me before I can be with Jess," she reasoned desperately, feeling the attack coming, trying to prepare for the onslaught.
"But you want to be with Jess."
It wasn't a question anymore. It was a statement.
A disgusted statement.
A thousand arguments flooded her mind. A thousand reasons why she should be with Jess, why Jess was perfect for her, why Jess was perfect.
It was then that she knew that she hadn't exactly been completely honest with her mother, not yet, just as she hadn't been completely honest with herself.
"I've always wanted to be with Jess," she realized.
Her mother's face softened at the sincere tone of her daughter's voice. "Oh, Rory." She shifted, pulling her daughter next to her, pulling her close.
Rory scooted closer as well, resting her head on her mother's shoulder.
"I don't think I ever really got over him."
"That's quite a declaration," she sighed, smoothing her daughter's hair.
"He's doing so well, mom."
"So you said. Repeatedly."
"It's just that, on the off chance that he and I do..." she fished for the right word, unable to come up with one, "whatever, I just want you to be on board."
"You're an adult," Lorelai reasoned. "There's not much I could do."
"No," Rory shook her head pitifully. "I don't want to do that with you again. We did that with Dean, and then with Logan. I don't want it to be this taboo subject."
"Then I can be honest with you?"
She pulled back, looking her mother in the eyes. "Of course."
"History sometimes repeats itself."
"Sometimes."
"I just think you're really vulnerable right now, and I think he saw that and took advantage of it."
Rory stood abruptly, turning away from Lorelai. "I'm not the type to be led around by some guy, mom."
"Dean said he was getting divorced and you jumped into bed with him."
She turned around, fuming. "It wasn't like that."
"Logan got you arrested," Lorelai counted off.
"I was just as much at fault as he was, if not more."
"And now Jess just shows up and-"
Rory held her hands up, cutting her off. "You weren't there mom. You didn't see him, you didn't talk to him."
"It's just-"
"Look, this might not even be anything. I don't want to fight with you over nothing."
Quiet settled over the living room again. The new clock above the fireplace ticked accusingly. Rory looked up at it, realizing that the one that the two had bought together at a craft fair in Hartford so many years ago was missing. That it had been replaced.
Her mother's voice caught her attention. "Okay," she had said.
Okay, I'll agree not to fight, but I still think you're wrong.
"Okay." Rory's voice was soft. "I think I'm gonna go to bed. It's been a long day."
"Yeah."
Rory began making her way to her room, suddenly wondering if it was even still there. If it had been changed, too.
"Hey, Rory?"
She turned ever-so-slightly. "Hmm?"
"I'm really glad you're home."
"Me too," she nodded, not turning to face her, not pausing for another hug. She kept walking into the dark kitchen. She touched the knob, turning it slowly.
Her room was the same.
But something still seemed different.
She sighed and closed the door slowly, just in time for her to fall against it, sinking to the ground as the tears cascaded down her face.
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It was four o'clock in the morning. She had never woken up at four o'clock in the morning. She had never woken up at five or six o'clock, either. At least, not voluntarily. But after three hours of restless sleep, the clock read 4:12am, and she was wide awake.
Abandoning her hope of maybe getting a few more hours, she sat up, throwing the covers off of her lithe frame. Her bare feet met the cool hardwood with a soft thud as she made her way into the kitchen to start the coffee pot.
The squeak in her door was gone, she noticed.
The coffee maker was new, too. And she didn't know how to turn it on.
Paul Anka padded his way into the kitchen, stopping suddenly upon seeing her, eyeing her as an intruder. He raised his nose, sniffing at her as best he could without getting too close. She put out her hand to pet him, but the sudden movement (sudden from the dog's perspective) made him jump back about three feet. He took a moment, weighed his options, then dashed back into the living room and up the stairs. Out of sight.
She felt like crying again.
Instead, she furiously wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, refusing to let any more tears fall. She took four quick steps back into her room and closed the door tightly. On impulse she reached for her phone and crawled back under the covers, unseeingly dialing the number she had memorized the day before.
After two rings, she was met by a surprisingly friendly Hello?
"Hi. It's me. Rory," she added.
Jess put down the manuscript he was looking at. "I know who you are."
She shifted, making sure her comforter was covering any limb that may be exposed. Then, she used her free hand to hold the blanket a few inches above her face to un-muffle her voice.
"Well, I didn't want to sound too presumptuous by identifying myself as just 'me'. For all I know, you could have half-a-dozen 'me's'."
He shook his head, his lips curving upwards. Realizing that she couldn't exactly hear him shake his head, he answered, "I don't."
She heard the smile in his voice, making her grin, "Oh. Good to know."
"So, how are you?" he asked tentatively.
"Good. I'm at home, actually."
"Good."
"I wanted to thank you. For yelling at me."
"I hardly yelled," was all he could think to say.
"Well, it meant a lot to me." She felt herself on the verge of tears again, and she pinched her arm to snap herself out of it.
"So, that's all I'm gonna get thanked for?" he began, mock hurt laced in his voice. "The yelling and not the bedroom acrobatics. I'm a little bit offended."
"The bedroom acrobatics were...I mean, you're amazing, and it was amazing. But you knew that," she paused, silently cursing herself for getting so flustered. "You just wanted to hear me say it."
"Think what you will." Smirking, he rubbed his eyes as rather inappropriate visions of her began overwhelming his thoughts.
She, too, was silent for a moment, reliving the previous night's events.
Closing her eyes, she could almost taste him.
"I want to see you again," she said suddenly, desperately, eyes shooting open, tone pleading.
"I want to see you, too," he answered.
Feeling panicked, she went on, "I don't want this to be a one night stand."
"I don't either," he agreed, trying to keep up with her.
"What do we do?"
He stood and resisted the urge to begin pacing around his small hotel room. Shoving his free hand in his pocket, he focused on the red markings littering the paper in front of him.
"'You break up with what's-his-name?"
"Today. I'm going to today."
"Oh. Gotcha," he said sarcastically.
"Jess, it's not like that. I just haven't seen him since everything happened."
He nodded, believing she could do it this time. Believing she would do it this time. "M'kay."
"Is there anyone you need to-"
"Nope."
"Oh."
"You heading back to school?" He asked, changing the subject.
"I'm gonna look into registering for the spring semester. God, I have so much to do. I need to make a list."
OldRory made lists.
"Still a journalist?" It was more a statement than a question, but she answered nonetheless.
"I think so," she grinned confidently.
"But you don't start until the spring?"
"I would be March."
"That's a ways away," he whistled.
"Yep."
"So you'll have some free time."
"In theory," she continued the banter, silently urging him to make his point, hoping he was alluding to what she thought he was alluding to.
He didn't say anything for a moment, and she was afraid they had gotten disconnected. She was about to say his name when a frustrated sigh came through, signaling his presence.
Throwing caution to the wind, he went against his better judgment and said, "You should come see me."
It took every single fiber of her being not to shoot up and jump in circles around the room as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She felt 16 again, she felt that excitement a girl feels when a boy you really like asks you out for the first time.
But she wasn't 16 and he wasn't a boy and this was an adult question.
Still, she was smiling so wide her cheeks hurt, and she swore he would be able to hear it in her voice.
"Aren't you on the road?" she asked as coolly as she could.
"I'll be back in Philly in about a week, week and a half."
He sounds so sexy the way he says Philly she thought.
"You could come and stay for a few days. If you wanted to," he added, unsure and sounding slightly nervous.
"I do," she nodded quickly. It actually came out as more of an Ido, one syllable, one word.
He smiled again at her eagerness and quickly counted the days until he was due back home. Nine. "Sounds like a plan." He, too, tried to sound aloof about the whole situation, but she could tell that he was happy.
"So, good. That sounds good," she said. "I'm sorry if I woke you up or anything," she added.
"Oh, no. I was already awake."
"Okay. Well, I should go. I have a list to make and stuff."
"Yeah. And I'll call you. When I get back," he stumbled. Closing his eyes tightly, he picked up an empty water bottle and hit himself over the head with it, unable to bring himself to pull it together.
"Okay. Bye Jess."
"Bye." After hanging up, he tossed his cell phone onto the sagging mattress and threw the water bottle against the wall.
I'll call you. I'll call you. He repeated over and over. Way to stay calm, Mariano.
Grinning (yes, grinning), he sat back down at the small table and looked at his watch, then at his discarded phone. If he left now, he could get a jump start on the day's errands. And the sooner he took care of getting his book in actual bookstores, the sooner he could get back home. And the sooner he could see her.
Standing, he quickly began gathering the few belongings he traveled with.
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She closed her phone in one swift movement, then snaked her arm out of her cocoon to set it on the nightstand. Pulling her hand back quickly, she settled back under the covers and took a moment to study the patterns the light made through the comforter. After a few moments, her mind wandered back to thoughts of Jess, and she began grinning again. Bringing her hands up to cover her face, she took a moment to kick her feet and flail her body as her excitement brimmed over. Then, she pulled the covers away and sat up, beginning her search for a paper and pen.
'Cause that's what OldRory would've done.
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notes: Hope you liked this one! Please drop me a review. Thanks for reading. :D