It almost feels odd, leaving her house this morning, knowing that the past few mornings she's woken up in his arms. So much so that she forgets where she put her keys, she has to go back for her coat (twice because the first time she forgot what she went back for) and it takes her twice as long as usual to find the matching pair of shoes that also match her outfit. So as she stumbles out of the house, finally ready to leave for work, she's not even surprised by the silver Prius pulling up. If things have to be so out of the ordinary, her daughter showing up the week before finals would coincide.
Flipping her hair out of her face, she watches Rory get out of the car. Her daughter, though like her in many ways, has such an extreme sense of giving, of understanding, of perceiving the appropriate response that Lorelai has never seen in herself. Maybe that comes from having to be the adult in their relationship for so many years. To Lorelai it seems that it's only since Rory went to college and Lorelai started dating Luke that she finally matured past her daughter.
"I thought you would be one with Kierkegaard by now," Lorelai teases as Rory reaches back in her car for her computer bag, settling it on her shoulder. Rory matches her mother's hair flip, squinting up at Lorelai as if looking into the sun. Lorelai is like the sun to her, she always has been the sun and the moon and her world. Even now, draped in misery, her mother with her pale skin striking against her dark locks seems to control the turn of the world. And yet, the shadows underneath her eyes cause Rory's heart to ache at the idea that Lorelai can still be this stalwart figure before her just months after her own Armageddon.
"You said you'd be home today. And Jess said the funeral is tomorrow so I just thought… maybe you'd like a little company," Rory suggests, her voice wavering as if unsure her mother wants her there. Lorelai walks down the steps, not taking her eyes off of Rory.
"Company, sure. A girl with her nose stuck in a book is not company," Lorelai responds with a wink. She grasps Rory's upper arms, looking down affectionately at her daughter. She can still see the little girl in Rory: the one who had a funeral for her caterpillar, who cried over the weeping willow, who almost burned down the house trying to make Lorelai breakfast in bed. Rory's looks may have changed, her hair done up, her face covered in makeup, her clothes in style, but deep inside she's still that little girl. "Oh Hun, I'm glad you came," Lorelai murmurs, pulling her daughter to her.
Rory wraps her arms around her mother, hugging her close. "Mom, you sure it went all right in New York?" Rory asks softly, ever the little protector. Lorelai drops her hands in an instant, stepping away from Rory, looking down, her hair falling in her face.
There was a time she would have let Rory in, she would have told Rory everything. She would have told Rory about her loves, her pains, her joys, and her sorrows. But Rory's grown up, and even though Rory's still her daughter, they're older, they're different. Rory loves that young, fresh, free, atmosphere. She loves to throw money around and live in the moment. Lorelai's far beyond that. She's learned that living in the moment can only leave you guessing on the future, hoping for what never may come, feeling like everything is just beyond your reach.
She can't let Rory in about Luke. He was the man that Rory had invited to her caterpillar's funeral. He was the man who took care of her when she was sick and Lorelai couldn't get out of work, who carted her mattress to Yale and all around the place, who gave her his mother's pearls for her 21st birthday as if she was his own daughter. Luke was the closest Rory had ever gotten to a step-father, he wasn't just another one of those men Lorelai slept with on the way. He was the man that Rory had loved and she can still remember the times that Rory whispered to her how with Luke around it finally felt like a family. No, she can't let Rory in about Luke.
Seeing Lorelai's retreat from her presence, Rory wishes she could put her words back her in mouth. She's been walking on eggshells ever since that night in May when Logan had left and her mother's life had come crashing down. Pushing won't work. Pushing will only drive her mother further from her and therefore further from the only person she's really opened up to lately.
"Are you off to work?" Rory finally asks, hoping that the change in subject will relieve the conflict in Lorelai's eyes. Lorelai nods.
"Yeah, took a few days off and I'm hoping that Michel hasn't tossed everyone out and locked it up for the entire time. I wouldn't put it past him," Lorelai gripes. Rory laughs, although with restraint. "I'm going to go get coffee first, want tag along?"
"For coffee? Do you have to ask?" Rory wonders with surprise. Lorelai smiles, but Rory can still sense the uncertainty that remains. "Sure, let me just throw my bag inside." Rory pats Lorelai's shoulder and walks inside the house. Lorelai doesn't watch her go. She folds her arms over her chest, her eyes drifting to the garage.
Ever since he revealed that Liz had died, she's been feeling a force from that garage, from the boat tucked safely inside. She remembers Luke pointing out his father's gravesite on their walk home after his uncle's funeral. The day after their engagement, she had searched out that gravestone again. She had told William that he had raised his son right, that he had grown into quite a man, that she would promise to cherish him and be true to him for always because that's what he deserved. After losing his mother and father, she had promised William that he'd never lose her as well, that he'd never have to go through that. And now he has lost her. And Liz. And possibly Gabriel as well.
"Mom?" Rory says softly, tugging gently on Lorelai's sleeve. "Mom, are you okay?" Lorelai nods, her expression still closed off.
"Rory, promise me that when you're my age you'll be able to say you lived your life without regrets. I think that's all I can hope for you anymore," Lorelai says softly, not looking over at Rory, who bites her lower lip, unsure of how to respond to this. Her mother's never seemed weak to her before, always the strength that's guided her throughout her life. But there's something about Luke, even when her mother had been with Luke, that had set free what's been hiding inside, the vulnerability she hid from the world for so long. "Come on, let's walk. Maybe it'll snow," Lorelai says, wrapping her hand around Rory's elbow and leading her daughter away, as if she never actually expected Rory to respond to her comment.
They walk to the diner, chatting as old friends about their lives while both try to stay off any topics dealing with the owner of the establishment they are about to enter. Sometimes they like to live in the charade that they're the mother and daughter that they always were. That Rory's the little town darling, living her life through her books and her mother's escapades. That Lorelai's the town beauty, finding excitement in the little things, the festivals, the movie nights with Rory, and driven by her desire to stay far away from her parents.
Something's changed. Not just Lorelai's break up with Luke. Not just Logan moving to London. Not just their fight when Rory dropped out of Yale. Something's changed. They've become different people. Lorelai is no longer content with just being Rory's mother. She wants more than that. Rory's gone. She's grown. All Lorelai wants now is that whole package, man, wife and child. She'd gladly move to Stepford in a heartbeat, if only to get what she yearns for, but only if that man was Luke. The one thing that this whole mess has taught her is that the only man she could ever see herself with is Luke.
"Hey Caesar, did you make the coffee or did Luke?" Rory asks as she and Lorelai shuffle into the diner.
"Luke came downstairs for only a minute, looked around and went back upstairs. I haven't seen him since. Is he sick or something?" Caesar asks as Lorelai's face falls, a pitying look coming over her as she presses her lips together.
"Hun, order me a coffee, I'll be right back," Lorelai says softly, patting Rory's arm as she walks back behind the curtain. Caesar watches Lorelai and then gives Rory a confused look.
"Did I say something wrong?" Caesar asks. Rory shakes her head.
"No, Luke's sister died," Rory tells him, walking over to the coffee pot. "Here, I'll do the coffees, you look like you need some help."
As Lorelai treads up the stairs, she's again reminded of her fear a few days ago. He had been a mysterious form to her then. She hadn't seen him in months. She didn't know how he felt about her. She had been afraid he would throw her out in a blind rage. As her hand reaches for the doorknob, she notices for the first time that the charms on her bracelet are shaking. She wonders when that happened, when the tremors began. Is it her age creeping up? Or is it the stress needing to find new way to let itself out?
She opens the door to find a scene she would have never expected. Luke is sitting in the middle of the floor with a few boxes and trinkets and papers all around him. There's a pencil positioned between his teeth but that doesn't seem to keep him from muttering to himself. Every once in awhile he'll withdraw the pencil and scratch something on the sheet of paper to his left. Then he'll shove it back against his teeth and lean over, flipping through the things again. She wonders what he was wearing when he walked into the diner being that now all he's wearing is a pair of sweatpants and what seems to be the first wrinkled t-shirt he could pull out of the drawer.
"Luke?" she calls softly, hoping that he's just been waiting to hear her voice. But he continues mutter to himself and shuffle through the items placed around him. She lets out a small sigh, taking her purse off of her shoulder and dropping it on the ground. Closing the distance between them, she squats down next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He jumps at the sudden contact. "What's all this?" she asks, as he takes the pencil out of his mouth, setting it next to him. He leans back and glances over at her, noticing her obvious work clothes. "The place explode around you?"
"Trying to write my sister's eulogy," he responds, giving her a look that speaks volumes. Liz was really something to him. He can deny it at as much as he wants. He can pretend that he wished she hadn't moved back to Stars Hollow. It wouldn't be the truth. His eyes hold the truth, that he's learned like Nicolas Cage did, that all he ever wanted was to be a family man.
In the end, Liz had gotten that, the family and he hadn't. She knew he had wanted it. He had bought that house, that big, giant, mausoleum of a house, for Lorelai, for their children, for their family. She wonders if she was the one left with that dream in the end.
"You sure you want to do that? I mean, you could get Jess to do that. Make him promise not to include the more salacious memories," she says, attempting to make a small joke, lighten the mood a little. Luke shrugs. "Come on. Take a break. Rory's downstairs." She rubs his arm, trying to get him off the floor so he can take a break from his depression for a small while. He lazily rubs a hand over his face, attempting to clear the fog from his brain. Then he blinks a few times, taking her in again.
"Rory?" he mumbles, not sure if he's heard her correctly. She gives him a tightlipped smile as she nods.
"She's looking forward to seeing the bright smiley Luke face she always remembers," Lorelai kids.
"She have Alzheimer's or something?" Lorelai lets out a soft chuckle, melodious sounds that seem to clear the air, lighten the mood, more than anything he's tried in the past few days. That's why he fell in love with her. She could always do that, just free him from the sadness that engulfs him, and so easily at that, and yet somehow she had become a part of that misery, that's why his head can no longer follow his heart.
"Come on, get up Lucas!" she demands, wrapping her hand around her arm as if helping him get up.
"When did you become a drill sergeant?" he groans, adjusting his clothes. She just grins, her hands settling on her hips as she glances over the things on the floor. He follows her gaze and shrugs. "It's mostly done. I've got an appointment with a lawyer in an hour. Thank your parents for me." Her mouth drops open.
"You – you called my parents?" she asks in shock. He shrugs.
"Well it was easier than Anthony Gonzalez." She rolls her eyes.
"Well now you're Mister Happy Joke-Funny Man, aren't you?"
"They got me a lawyer to ensure I get custody of Gabriel," he tells her, ignoring her side comment.
"That's what you want?" He nods.
"That's what I want."
"You know the Rolling Stones said that you don't always get what you want."
"He's also what I need," he answers with determination in his voice. Her lips part slightly as if she's about to respond with a quip and then something in his expression gives her pause.
"Is he all you need?" she asks and then quickly intakes a breath as if trying to bring the words back. But they're out there and she knows he heard them when his face goes lax. Thinking before speaking has never been her strong suit, and it remains the fault that buries her time and again. "Forget it," she says, with a quick shake of her head. "Just forget it." He heaves a big sigh.
"Lorelai…" he utters, as if saying her name means exactly what he's trying to say. There's something pleading in his expression, but she's not sure what he wants from her. All she wants is for him to let her hold him close, just hold him until all his fear and pain slips away. But he won't let her, not during the day, not when it's light out and it would mean that he actually wants her close. During the night it's okay because he can say he was half asleep, he can say he just needed to be able to get to sleep, because he doesn't have to look her in the eye. All is different in the light.
"Get dressed, I'll be downstairs with Rory. And please make some coffee before you go, Caesar's tastes like prune juice," she crabs, pleased when even Luke gets a sour look on his face with that idea. He nods. She nods back and walks to the door.
"Lorelai," he says softly and she stops, facing away from him, her hand still on the door. "You will go to the funeral with me?" She hears the smallness in his voice, the little boy in him still ready to weep at his mother's funeral, and it breaks her heart. She can't believe that she could even hesitate not to give in to his request. It's as if he's answering her unanswered question with unspoken words.
She glances over her shoulder at him, seeing the helplessness exhibited in his posture and expression. "I'll come by and pick you up at nine o'clock tomorrow," she responds softly and relief washes over him.
"Thank you," he barely gets out, a lump forming in his throat. He clears his throat. "I'll be down in a minute." She nods again and walks out. Maybe he does need her after all. Maybe things are changing. Maybe the only good thing that might come out of Liz's death will be an understanding between the two of them. Until she knows the answers, she'll be there for him, just as he always was for her.