MONDAY AFTERNOON
Rory still held the phone in her hand where she sat on the floor in her room. She felt like she'd been running a thousand miles, and felt her head spinning as she leaned it against the bed behind her. Her face was sullen from the heated discussion on the phone, and she felt the weariness from this whole eventful day draining her. She had just said goodbye to Logan, who reluctantly had given her his father's location, and in passion told her to (please for her own sake) reconsider the intended face off with Mitchum.
"I have to do this" she have told him yet again and continued for a second time to describe how she felt this fight was no one's but hers, and that she therefore had to face it alone. Logan had then for a second time demanded that she waited for him to fly back, so that he could take care of this himself. She had refused that concept, and instructed him to (for heaven's sake) stay put. He had argued that the whole situation hadn't even existed if he had not left the Huntzberger group, and that his father had poured his anger out on her. He therefore felt that it was his fault, through and through, and that Rory shouldn't have to pay anymore than she already had.
"You do not have to do this, Rory!" he had said in a pleading, agitated voice "It is my screwed up family, and so it's my mess to clean up! I will hop on a plane right away! There must be something we can do to change that asshole's mind."
Rory felt confused by that last past, so she asked just to clarify; "Who's mind? Your dad's?"
Logan had sighed heavily and flustered answered in his quick voice "Well, his too - though that is less likely, as he is an obvious sociopath. No, I mean there must be some way that we can get you to still get that internship. If I talk to that guy, who decides, make him understand just how awesome you are…"
Rory interrupted him, in a firm and steady voice; "No, Logan. We're not going to do that. It's too late, and I-I don't know if I want it anymore, anyway." She hesitated slightly before continuing in a more tentative and uncertain voice; "I mean, I'm - moving, - we're moving - to Paul Alto. Remember?" she shook her head faintly and continued in a more decisive tone; "I don't want it, I don't care about that anymore. That isn't the reason why I have to ask your dad…"
Logan interrupted her speech with a bitter laughing sound and he said in a tired voice; "You're not being honest, Rory. I know you want that Fellowship more than anything, and I know you are in denial right now, but…"
"Not more than anything" Rory's reply was half drowned in Logan's flood of passionately spoken words, but he still heard them clearly enough to pause.
"What?" He asked, feeling confused and still being consumed by the frustration he felt.
"I said it's not the thing I want the most. Not anymore." Rory's voice was hushed but steady. Logan felt his inner turmoil diminish as he understood the implication of her words. He smiled quickly and replied in a low voice;
"Yeah, well – I am even starting to – I mean, do you even want to marry me now? I wouldn't be angry – no, I mean it's fully understandable if you would want to back out; I mean with my crazy family and all. And now it's all so messed up! I thought I finally was the good guy, you know. That we could start new, that it would be great to move here, but now – I'm the one responsible for making you lose that job, I'm still hurting you…"
"Logan! Just stop. Stop for a minute and listen, please" Rory's firm voice flooded through the line and Logan fell quiet. She hesitated for s second before continuing "Here's the deal. First; I wanna to marry you, and I'm going to. I still want that, now more than ever. Second; you are not responsible for the Reston Fellowship fallout, not one bit. I don't want you to think that you are, and I don't want you to ever think that I think you are. Got it?"
Rory waited a while for him to reply, but when nothing came she asked a puzzled; "You're still there?"
"Yeah" a muffled voice said, and she heard Logan caught and then sniff through the line.
"Are you even listening to me?" she asked with a frown, feeling a bit frustrated by his non-responsive behavior.
"Yeah, Ace. I heard you loud and clear. I was just a bit… under the weather, so to speak. Sorry about that. But – um where was I?" he seemed to lose track of his thought, and fell silent. Rory sighed in frustration and filled in;
"You where just about to tell me where I can find Mitchum."
This was certainly a lie, as Logan had refused to do so twice now. By a chance his mother had called him the same day and informed him among other things of his father's whereabouts. The only thing left for Rory to do was to get that information out of Logan, so that she could go on with her plan to confront Mitchum.
"No" he said, and she heard that his usual voice was back. She listened with a sigh when he explained again, just why he wouldn't do that particular thing, and why her facing off with his father was a rotten idea.
"Well" Rory replied, and was now trying a new technique "as it is clear that you're not going to tell me, I guess I just have to call your house and ask your mom. I bet she know where her husband is. She told you, an hour ago –so my guess is that she still remembers if I ask."
"Don't!" Logan hastily said which got Rory to believe that her latest method of convincing her stubborn fiancé had succeeded.
She smiled victorious, and said in an innocent manner; "Don't what, Logan?"
"Don't …even try to win the argument with dirty tricks, Ace. I'm sorry to say, but that is one of the few things you don't master at all." She could hear him form a smirk, even though there were thousands of miles separating them. Her victorious smile transformed into a glare of dissatisfaction.
"That is so not true!" she said, pouting slightly "Then what about - um… how I made you expose yourself as a member of the Life and Death Brigade? That, I'd say, was plenty of dirty."
"Yeah, you're right. That was some heavy dirtiness on your part, Ace. But all though - that's not the whole story, you know." Logan's smirking voice trailed back to her, and she felt herself frown in puzzlement.
"What do you mean?"
He sighed heavily, and she could imagine him leaning back in the chair, the way he always did then embarking on a new subject that he really liked. "Well" he said in a long an outstretched way "the truth is that it might neither have been your effectively journalistic skills or your convincingly dirty tricks that persuaded and made us allow you participate."
"It wasn't?" Rory asked, with an innocent voice. "But I threatened to follow you, wasn't that creepy?"
Logan laughed at that, and continued by explaining that it wasn't really creepy at all. "I'm sorry for ruining you delusion" he said, in a comfortable note "But the truths most come out some day. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you could never be creepy, no matter how hard you tried."
"It's abomination; saying something like that to your fiancée." Rory said, while pouting her lips.
"That may be, but it's the bitter truth." Logan's voice stated "The fact of the matter is that there was another, malevolent, reason for you being accepted into the secret circle…"
"The circle within a circle" Rory intersected.
"Yeah, that's what I meant." Logan affirmed "It's hard keeping tracks of all the Illuminati news. Anyways, the real reason for you to be there…"
"Was for you to get me into my footie PJ's" Rory intervened, making the person on the other end laugh, while smiling herself.
"No" Logan answered, "Not quite. But you're starting to get closer. The reason, I am sorry to say, was not because of your dangerously dirty tricks or anything. I just wanted to impress you - as I found you both cute and deeply uninterested. I just wanted to make you see what an awesome guy I was, jumping of huge scaffolds and such. That's the full reason. Sorry, Ace."
"That's terrible" Rory replied, trying to fight down the broad smile from her face.
"I know. But it also means that I was right. You don't have what it takes to try the dirty tricks, Ace."
"You're wrong, and I will prove that one day." Rory said, and after thinking for a moment she concluded; "I'll practice! There must be a book about this stuff, right?"
"It probably is. Look up methodology under 'History of Right-wing Conservative'." Logan suggested.
"Something nice written by Henry Kissinger" Rory replied.
In two different parts of the country, they both smiled in joint satisfaction and understanding. Rory felt her inner hum in longing to see him, and she took a lungful of air to control her feelings. She had a mission, right now. It was to make Logan tell her about his father. Rory knew that it was other ways to get that information, but she felt as she had to have Logan's understanding and approval (even if it was a reluctant one), before she went through with it.
She sighed and started over; "I honestly need you to be ok with me doing this." she began in a serious, low tone "Because I feel like this is something that I have to do. For me." She fell quiet, anxiously waiting for Logan's reply.
He said nothing for a while, and Rory was just about to continue her persuading quest when she suddenly heard his word;
"Ok, I get it." his distant voice stated, and Rory could feel the reluctance in his words.
"You do?" Rory asked, tentatively and with a felt uncertainty.
Logan sighed heavily and continued; "Yes, I get what you're saying. And I appreciate that you ask for my opinion."
"I really need you to be ok with it…" Rory repeated, trying to convey just how important that part was.
"I know, and I love you for feeling that way." Logan said in a soft, serious voice "But, I don't think that is a good idea, Rory. Not at all. And I am scared that if you go through with it, you'll end up getting hurt. I wish you could just let me handle it."
"W-what makes you think that you'd be better at dealing with this situation?" Rory asked with an irritated frown.
"Years of experience." Logan's firm voice told her "Unlike you, I have had a long time to practice evading my father's bullets. I know how to take him."
"I see your point, Jim Levy, and I fully respect it." Rory replied in a somber voice "But, as I'm not really challenging him to a gunfight, I think I'll be ok."
She smiled when she heard him chuckle on the other end. This was really very stupid. They were arguing over who would be best suited for the face off, as if any of them stood a chance against Mitchum. They both knew that the one stupid enough to challenge the man was fighting a losing battle. They both wanted to protect the other one from that unpleasantness, hence the quarrel. Rory inhaled and closed her eyes. She would have to make him see reason, she thought to herself. Logan had to understand that the matter at hand concerned her more than it did him, and that it therefore was her battle to fight. Even though Logan might have the right to demand first chair at any other comparable occasion, she thought that the current personal beef she had with Mitchum was overriding any of his son's hereditary prerogatives. She was therefore the one fighting this battle, and the one who would see it through to the end.
"Logan" she started, in a pleading voice "please understand! I really have to do this."
"I told you" he replied, in an impatient tone "I get it. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"We're not getting anywhere, are we?" Rory asked on a note of dejection.
"No, it feels like we've had this exact conversation a couple of times now." Logan replied with a sigh.
And that was true. They were using and reusing the same arguments over and over again, as neither of them was willing to cave in and none of them had more than their strong sense of what was right to refer to. They fell quiet, as they both took time to think and regroup for the next, fourth, round.
"I've decided" Rory said in a clear and decisive voice "I am going to do this no matter what. I hope you will support me, because if you didn't have my back - I'd be lost."
"Is that so" Logan's sharp voice said "didn't you just say that you needed me to be ok with it, before anything happened? You changed your tune pretty quickly, Ace."
"Well" Rory stated cautiously "I realized - that we're getting coming nowhere near a …consensus on this topic. I-I just know I have to do this, and I …can't back down." She hesitated for a moment before continuing "What if – What if I swear I won't let him get to me. If I promise. Would that help?"
Logan sighed and fell quiet. After a while he asked in a tired voice; "How could you possible promise that?"
"I-I'll figure it out. Anyway, it's no big deal, right. I'm just gonna ask him, we don't even know what he's going to say."
Logan contemplated this for a moment, before saying in a doubtful yet hopeful voice; "Maybe he didn't even do it. We don't know, for sure."
"Exactly!" Rory exclaimed, suddenly feeling as they were finally coming to an agreement. She controlled her excitement, and continued in a somber voice; "I will just have to ask him. That's all. I won't even get into an argument. We just need to know, right?"
Logan considered this for a second, and then said in a reluctant tone; "I need you to promise not to get into a dispute with him. He is a manipulator, a master of covert-aggression and victimization…"
"Yeah, I know" Rory said with emphasis. She herself had experienced firsthand what 'being Huntzbergered' really meant, and did not wish for the same thing ever happening again. "I promise" she therefore said truthfully, and heard the line fill up with Logan's concerned exhortations.
She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the bed. The first battle was won, and the real fight had yet to begin. She felt her head starting to spin and took a lungful of air, before asking for the last time of the whereabouts of Mitchum Huntzberger.
Rory was standing outside the front door of the giant mansion that she visited twice before. It was the childhood home of her fiancé, and the place that currently harbored the man she was looking for. She was breathing heavily and was nervously picking at her clothes and fixing her hair. She had already ringed the bell, and while she waited for the door to be opened she felt as if hours passed by. Finally the entrance opened up, and she was standing face to face to one of the household's maids. Rory gave a tense smile, and tried to make her voice sound normal as she said;
"Hi, I'm Rory Gilmore. I was wondering if Mr. Huntzberger is available."
She felt her heart beat like a drum, and when she instantly was instructed to follow the indifferent woman in front of her, she was thankful for not being expected to chit-chat to any greater extent. As they entered the remarkable house with all its grandeur, she once again could not help but feeling both astonished and intimidated by the presentation of wealth that was so apparent. She was led into the parlor, in where she had been seated on the two earlier occasions she had visited the household, and she was there left to wait alone with her anxious thoughts spinning in her head.
After a while she heard steps coming closer, as the sounds of heels meeting marble became louder and louder. She turned her head and saw the figure of Shira Huntzberger emerging from around the corner, wearing a pleasant smile where she walked.
"Rory dearest" Shira said, in an overly pleasant voice that Rory had come to understand was her natural tone.
"Mrs Huntzberger" Rory exclaimed, and while she rose from the couch she hastily transformed the surprised look on her face into a smile.
"How lovely to see you" Shira pleasantly said before reaching forward and plastering a kiss on the other woman's cheek in greeting.
"Yes, - well…" Rory began, after awkwardly fumbling her way through the kisses of greeting. She felt both dense and completely dumbfounded, as she never considered the possibility of Shira's presence in her mind's carefully thought out scenario. Rory didn't have the patience or the nerve to handle anything else than what she came here to do, and she felt herself starting to panic. In response to her inner chaos the outwardly poised Rory smiled at the older woman, and cursed her in secret for being at home.
The two women sat themselves in opposite couches and smiled in unison, while they felt the awkward silence both form and encircle them. Rory annoyance was blending with unease, and she silently observed the woman in front of her engaging in the act of correcting and rearranging the sofa's poor pillows.
"So" Rory heard herself say, still with the plastered smile on her face "I heard you spoke to Logan earlier today?"
Shira left the pillow beside her alone, and lifted her eyes to met Rory's. "Yes!" she said - with a bright face "I was just on the phone with him again, as a matter of fact." Shira's eyes suddenly held a glint of something nasty when she continued; "He told me that you were coming, and asked me to make sure you were comfortable."
"Did he now" Rory's chilly voice said, and her face remained pleasant only by the forced effort of Rory herself.
She wasn't really surprised by Logan's action. Not really. He had been so worried about her visiting the mansion, and he probably wanted to make sure that she would at least be properly greeted. She could recognize why he had called his mother, but at the same time felt a piercing irritation for his naïve act. She clearly knew that Shira disliked her, and as a result felt the tension now building up inside her. She wanted nothing more that have that moment, before the confrontation with him, to collect herself in solitude.
"How considerate" Rory continued, and intensified the pleasantness of her face's expression.
"Indeed" Shira replied, competing with Rory for the brightest smile. "He is such a considerate boy, always has been" she paused long enough to let out a sigh, of disappointment and regret, and continued; "It's such a shame that he decided to move; and it's so unlike him" her voice became icy as she concluded her speech; "Someone must have been very convincing; making him move across the country - without even a thought of how it would affect us."
Rory's smile froze, and was momentarily transformed into a grimace of disbelief. She soon enough collected herself and reinstated the previous mask, while speaking in a cold voice through her teeth; "I am actually here to see your husband"
"Yes, I know." Shira said in her usual pleasant voice "He is currently engaged. On the phone with a congressman, I think."
"Do you know if he will be long?" Rory asked, and felt her mouth cramp slightly due to the constant smiling.
"Oh dear, not an inkling! He could be hours for all I know" she beamed at Rory and continued heartfelt; "You know how the Huntzberger men are. Work, work, work - and no rest."
Rory smiled and tilted her head slightly, while secretly building a defense in anticipation of the woman's next move.
Shira nodded slightly, as in thought, and continued with a hesitant and concerned tone; "In fact, if I wasn't there for him, Mitchum wouldn't even have the courtesy to show up at the yearly New Years Ball. My job is to make sure that he is well presented and held in the highest regards in the eyes of society." Her eyes suddenly pierced Rory's, and she continued with a fierceness that conflicted with her previous position. "A Huntzberger's duty is to obtain and always remain the extraordinary. The job of the wife is to make sure that the family name always is considered to be of an unsurpassed quality. That is hard work, Rory. I have been doing it for 30 years now. I should know."
Rory stared at the other woman, while being utterly lost for words. She observed Shira composing herself, and yet again lean back in the sofa in her uncomfortable but lovely posture. She saw her averting her eyes, and trying to control the slightly reddened face that had been flushed while speaking in such passion. Rory lowered her eyes as well, and tried to think of something that could make the enormously awkward moment pass. Fruitless as her attempt was, the moment was not long-lived, as fresh footsteps could be heard yet again in the marble that covered the floor.
As Rory looked up, she was met by the gaze of the man she had been fighting to see. He looked at her with a raised brow, but without an expression. He finally nodded in silence, and said with a grin;
"Rory. What a pleasant surprise!"
She answered by rising from the couch and asking him in a hoarse voice, under a shaking breath; "Mr. Huntzberger. Could I have a minute of your time?"
She watched him as he observed her, with his penetrating eyes in his impenetrable face. She saw when he nodded in response and followed his back when he led her to his study. When he closed the door behind them she raised her head and held his gaze. This man had the power to destroy her, as he had shown on numerous occasions. Yet, here she was - and she was seeing her battle through to the end. She was finally really to confront Mitchum Huntzberger.
They were standing side by side, with their eyes fixed on the same object. The eyes of the woman were both decisively larger and more in awe than the man's, and she apparently drank in the scene in front of her in with every fiber of her being. He stood with his hands folded behind his back and let the time pass in silence, as the person beside him was lost in admiration.
"I still can't get that you actually have this" she said once again, while shaking her head in wonder, and without lifting her gaze from the object of her awe.
"Well" the man answered with a shrug "it was actually something of a fluke. I was young, and on a business trip to Guanajuato. Then I saw it, and I just knew I had to have it."
Rory's eyes found his, and she frowned in confusion while saying; "In a gallery?"
"No!" the man responded with a loud chuckle "this you wouldn't find in any gallery. I found it hanging on the wall in my client's house."
Rory nodded at this statement, but didn't seem to react to the implications of his words. Instead her eyes returned to the painting in front of her and said in a breathless voice; "I didn't even know something like this existed. I mean, I thought he only did murals and frescoes. This is – so – cool!"
The man watched her in amusement, and retuned his gaze to the object of her admiration. He seemed to be feeling quit good about himself, and was just about to continue his story of how he obtained the item of such value when the voice of the woman beside him interrupted his thoughts.
"He's - one of my favorite painters! I remember first reading about him then I was eleven, but I never knew that he made any paintings like this, though."
Her statement made the man raise his eyebrows and he exclaimed in surprise and disbelief; "You read about Diego Rivera when you were eleven?"
"Yes" Rory answered matter-of-factly, and continued with a hasted voice to explain; "I originally found him, of course, by reading about Frida Kahlo. I really like her too, by the way. The whole naïve art and – Oh the monkey! I remember I used to love the monkey! – But then I started to like the way Rivera was depicting Mexico's history and combining it with the Aztec style, and just the awesomeness in the concept of painting frescoes. And when I saw "En el Arsenal" I was kind of sold."
She realized that she was rambling, and that she must be sounding like some crazy person. She suddenly lowered her eyes, in embarrassment and indignity, as coming to realize in front of just whom she was showing this unbecoming behavior.
She heard him cough and clear his throat. Then she heard his words, spoken in a strange, unusual softness; "He is actually my favorite, too. Even though I can't claim to have been a diehard fan since I was eleven. That's really strange, by the way… Anyway, when I saw the painting hanging on the wall of my oblivious client, I had the same reaction you just did. I knew that I had to obtain it, and as you can see – I got my wish."
Rory raised her head and met his eyes, measuring him.
"And now it hangs here" she said in a low but stern voice, while still holding on to his gaze "For no one's eyes but yours."
He gave a small nod and smiled, answering in a calm voice; "Yes. Those of us who have what it takes to obtain desired things are privileged with the right to chose what to do with them. My wish is for this thing of beauty is to remain here, as a reminder of just that fact."
Rory didn't answer to this statement, but stood in quiet contemplation, before raising her head yet again and meeting his penetrating eyes. Just when she was about to speak he spoke before her, forming words in his usual demanding voice while he gestured for her to sit;
"So, Rory, what was it you came for? How can I help?"
As Mitchum was seated on a chair behind his solid dark-wooden desk, Rory placed herself in the chair opposite his; with the dark solid block of wood operating as a barrier between them.
Her eyes fell to her lap, and she gathered her strength, determined to finally ask the question that had been tearing inside her since morning.
"I-I heard something" she began, in a low and nervous tone while still holding her gaze averted to her lap; "I heard something - from a f-friend, something about - you, and something about the James Reston Fellowship - at the New York Times."
"Yes" was Mitchum's quick answer. He delivered it in such agreeing fashion that Rory both held her breath and raised her head in surprise. "I somehow managed to get that it might be why you were here" he continued in the same stating manner, and gave her an attempt to a rueful smile to conclude his speech.
Rory clasped her hands tightly together and felt her heart pounding out of her chest, while she was desperately trying to find a way to know how to proceed.
She opened her mouth and found that words suddenly came pouring out, as she spoke her mind without any thoughts;
"Did you or did you not have anything to do that - with me not getting the Reporting Fellowship? What I heard was that you know the person in charge of choosing the candidates. I heard that you somehow made him take me of the list. I came to ask if the rumors are true or if it's all just a -misunderstanding - or a flat out lie."
"It's partly true" Mitchum answered in a casual tone, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Partly true" Rory echoed, in loss for anything else to say. She felt utterly stunned and unable to think in that moment.
"Yes" the man in front of her stated "I am guilty of answering Bob's questions honestly when he called to ask me about you."
"Bob" Rory echoed, momentarily brainless, and feeling confused.
"Yes. Robert Schneider; as in the man in charge of choosing the candidates for 'the James Reston Reporting Fellowship' for the last ten years. He called me up, as a reference. He knew you had been an intern under me, and wanted my opinion of your performance."
"Oh" was all Rory could muster to say. She could suddenly see very clearly what was coming next.
"I told the same thing as I told you, when discussing your prospects - back in Stamford." He paused and made sure that she knew that he was referring to. She undoubtedly did, as she would probably never forget that specific moment in her life. He nodded in silence and continued; "So, yes, I am partly guilty for you not landing the internship you sought. I wouldn't want to change what I did, though. I'm not sorry for my actions, as I neither lied nor concealed anything."
Rory sat in stillness. She felt miserable in her unresponsiveness but could not for the world figure out what to say at that moment. Finally she sighed and vocalized just that, her feeling of being unable to speak;
"I don't know what to say." she stated in a low voice, free from any emotions.
"There must be something on your mind" she heard Mitchum urge her in good spirit, comfortable where he sat leaning back in his chair "Now is your chance to say it."
"Well" she started, with voice that started to expose her inner confusion, "Frankly, I don't understand. Just a couple of months ago, you said that I could have my pick of any of your newspapers, and that I should choose from any in the world. And now, you're telling me that you still don't think 'I've got it'? You mean that what you - so explicitly - told me at the Eagle Gazette two years ago still stands, and can justify this? Then why did you just as explicitly tell me that things had changed?" she shook her head in disbelief and continued darkly; "You must excuse me for having a hard time making any sense out of this…"
Mitchum had dropped his smile, and was watching her while she finished of her speech. He leaned forward and put his arms on the desk – making the distance to Rory shorter, while speaking with a steady voice;
"I know what you are referring to, I remember our conversation - and I think that you might have misunderstood some things."
Rory raised her brows in question; "What things might that be?" she asked with a voice matching his in steadiness and sternness.
"Well" he said with exclamation, leaning back in his comfortable position yet again "do you remember me saying that we were a team?" he looked at her for a sign of recollection, and continued when seeing her nod "Well, as I said then; circumstances change. You must be aware of that, since then, circumstances have changed. Right?" he looked at her with eyes that required her to agree with this notion.
Yes, Rory though, circumstances had changed. The Huntzberger's no longer saw her as an asset. That had changed. As convinced they had been that Rory was the one who was guiding and directing their son to the desired future, they were now just as convinced of her being the causal factor for Logan's latest acts of rebellion. With that belief they were now not only indifferent to her as before; but instead now blamed her for the family's fallout and therefore despised her. With that as their reason, they had made the apparent choice to make her as miserable as they were - hence the current demolition of her career and her future prospects at the New York Times. Mitchum had known very well how to make her bleed, and her had cut her where he knew it would hurt the most. She once again cursed herself her stupidity in telling Mitchum about her aspirations and her dreams. She was suddenly filled with a cold, dark feeling, tearing at her. Yes, she though, things had changed. She had changed.
"Yes" she said in a cold tone "Circumstances have changed."
"Exactly" Mitchum replied on a relaxed note "Then we are yet again on the same page. Good."
On the same page. Rory suddenly heard the sound of clinking glasses and she blinked in confusion. On the same page. That's right, she thought. That was the words he had used to toast for their combined efforts and bright futures. On the same page. That was the words he had used to make Rory drink while feeling both shameful and disgraced. She remembered that feeling, when she had accepted his suggestion for a truce. She remembered how she had felt a sudden fluttering joy, followed by an instant wave of guilt. She had unknowingly sought his approval, and the bliss his words had triggered had made her feel both ashamed and confused. As she had sat there, filled with the conflicting feelings, she had by his hand become the thing she hated the most. He had made her into a victim, Rory now realized, and by that thought she felt as she could finally see things straight.
Something inside Rory somehow fell into place by that realization. She could at that moment plainly see the power Mitchum had over her, and the choices she had somehow unknowingly made because of him. He had with ease managed to entangle her in his web of control, and she had without realizing it been dependent on and in need of both his approval and recognition.
The realization was followed by a series of quickly and disoriented pictures that made Rory's head spin. She saw a flash of Mitchum's unconcerned face in a conference room in Stamford. A flash of her own defiant look while standing on a dock. A flash of her mother's sad face seen in the dark through a window. A flash of Logan unconscious in a hospital bed. A flash of Mitchum standing in a hallway. A flash of Logan holding her hand. A flash of Mitchum standing over her, and of herself averting her eyes to the floor. A flash of Logan behind an elevator's closing doors. A flash of herself crying in a bathroom. A flash of herself drinking to a toast. A flash of Mitchum screaming in rage. A flash of herself stroking a blue beautiful dress. A flash of Logan's disappearing back. A flash of Mitchum lingering in a press room.
Finally the stream of picture faded, and there was only one enduring image that was hereafter forever edged in her mind. It was a picture showing a cherished memory of two combined figures standing by a grey car, on a green lawn, somewhere far off in North Carolina.
Then she could then finally see it as clear as a day; the bond that from that moment had somehow undoubtedly linked those two people together, and the choices they both had to make were for the reason to be able to live in unison. Logan and Rory both had to make changes, as they both had to learn to fight to be independent. Rory herself had to make a stance regarding her mother, and this, in front of her, was Logan's greatest challenge. There and then she knew that by choosing to be a part of Logan's path and future, his greatest challenge had also become hers. Without a doubt she suddenly knew that all the things that she had done for the last few years had somehow been leading up to this exact moment, as she had finally come to see this battle through to the end. She filled her lungs with air and closed her eyes briefly before her truthful words suddenly came spilling out;
"You know what makes me most angry?" she started "I have done nothing but trying to get your respect. All along I have thought that by being a little better, reaching a little higher – you would finally recognize me" she shook her head, while observing her clasped hands in her knee. She swallowed hard before continuing in her steady but low voice "I can see now, that it's no point in fighting anymore. You can only see the two of us, I mean Logan and me, as pieces in you stupid game." With a strength that came from somewhere deep inside, she raised her head and eyes and searched his impenetrable face for answers and acknowledgment.
"I wonder if you know" Rory continued in her somewhat cold, calm voice "what you said to me, back in Stamford –what it did to me." She paused for a beat, and felt something undefined changing in the air. She finally took a deep breath and pressed on in the same unmoved voice; "I was crushed, I quit school. I was totally lost, and it was all because of what you said - and the way you said it" she paused yet again, and felt the meaning of the air's undefined change; she could suddenly see the man for who he really was. A manipulator, as Logan had said, a master of covert-aggression and victimization. She suddenly started to feel a bubbly need to laugh spreading in her stomach, and had to control herself before speaking again. In a mildly bemused voice she spoke; "Somehow I think… that I was able to stand up again just to prove you wrong. I needed you to be wrong, you know." She directed a quick smirk at the man in front of her, who was listening in unmoving silence. "I think that I wanted you to recognize me so badly, that I actually thought you meant it back then – at the restaurant." She shook her head slightly, and pressed on; "But of course, that was really stupid of me. I should have known better, but I think I just wanted it to be true" she sighed and smiled sadly at the silent man in front of her and spoke again; "I realized – it's no point in fighting you. There is no point in trying to get your apology - or even to admit that you did something wrong. But you have to know - deep down - that you did. What you did was wrong in so many ways, and it destroyed thing on so many levels. I believe you know that."
Rory concluded the last sentence with sadness, and her eyes exposed her own inner turmoil of both determination and confliction. His betrayal still impaired her, and she would have to bear the wounds for a long time. But, she though, so would he. He had made his choice, and she was forcing him to exit her life as a consequence. That was the ultimate choice she had to make - to cut off the controlling hold he had over her. She felt as she had to make that abundantly clear and therefore continued to let her words spill out in the empty air;
"Anyway… I want you to know, that I don't need your approval. Not anymore. Not from you. And also, I've decided to - try to - forgive you." she paused and gave a sigh as the words was hard to even think, and currently even harder to speak. She took a deep breath and continued; "I will try to-…do that, because I honestly don't want to waste any time, or energy, hating you." she paused and swallowed, watching the silent man for reactions, but couldn't detect any expressions in that impenetrable face of her soon to be father-in-law. She took a lungful of air and continued in a determined tone; "But mostly, because of Logan." she said, nodding at her spoken statement "I just don't want my feelings being the reason for him to …hate you, more than he already does. He's had enough sorrow as it is by just being a part of this… screwed up family."
She averted her eyes to her clasped hands once again and felt her courage falter. She took a deep breath and concluded with a final nod "So… that's that." She felt it was true, and that she had nothing more to say to the man in front of her. She rose from her chair and gave Mitchum a last hesitant glance and a single nod before she turned her back to him and silently headed for the door.
"Thank you" she heard the hoarse voice behind her, and she instantly froze where she stood with the hand clutching the doorknob, ready to leave.
"…What?" she asked with hesitation and confusion, still turned towards the door.
"I wanted to thank you for …sticking with him."
Rory swallowed hard. She didn't understand this, and didn't believe this man's words. She bit her lip and refused to answer. No more mind games, she thought with an angry frown. Just as she was going to open the door and leave him behind, his voice interrupted her yet again.
"I really want him to be happy" he voiced, and Rory could hear the tiredness in his tone. "Instead, I have the habit of making him miserable" the drained voice continued "I always seem to take away the things he care for the most." His voice faded away, and the room became quiet. Rory stood where she stood, silently trying to figure out if Mitchum's current act could have a hidden agenda.
"I know he hates me."
The words were spoken with such sincerity, that it froze all Rory's suspicious thoughts in an instance. As the room yet again fell quiet, she could neither speak nor move, even if she wanted to.
"But, I'm his father, and he forgave and forgot - as the things that I took away could always be replaced…" his hollow voice said, and he sighed heavily and tiredly before continuing "That is, until you appeared of course. That changed everything." Rory winced at hearing herself being mentioned, and silently urged the man continue, as she wanted to know what he meant. After a moment of contemplation, he finally stated; "Yes. When you came along, things started to change. And now – he is out of my reach."
"I didn't make him move." Rory's defiant voice said turned to the door.
"No, but he changed because of you" Mitchum replied with a certainty in his voice that made Rory feel furious. Why couldn't they understand, she wondered in silent frustration. She shook her head, not willing to go into an argument with the man behind her back.
"You made him change. Even if you won't admit that fact." the voice behind her stated, and continued in its tired fashion, as if life was suddenly sucked out of him "Thanks to that, he is finally able to be his own person. He's out of my reach now - and I won't be able to make him miserable."
Rory felt as she should say something, but couldn't find the words. Instead she just stood there. Still with her hand clutching the doorknob and her back turned to the suddenly so worn out man.
"That's what I wanted to say" the weary voice continued "I don't want to be the one taking away what he wants the most again. Not this time. That's the one thing he would never forgive."
He's talking about me, Rory thought in a sudden realization. He is telling me that he is thankful that I don't leave Logan because of all the awful things Mitchum himself has done to me.
The idea of her ending things with Logan as a result of something his father had done made her inside squirm in astonished bemusement and disbelief. He really didn't get it, she finally realized. As Mitchum had no clue of the strength and the final nature of Logan's and Rory's bond, he was now worried. He was afraid that his own recent indiscretions might have caused Rory to rethink her engagement, and her connection to the Huntzberger family. He was also certain that if Rory gave up now, it was something that Logan could never forgive his father - and would therefore result in the ultimate loss of a son.
"If you are so afraid of that happening, then why did you do this?" Rory asked in a calm and cold tone, still not turning around. She was somewhat afraid of him dragging her into one of his mind games, if she left her post and let go of the doorknob. She had her foot in the door, and the feeling made her feel strength. She could leave at any minute, despite his answer. She didn't have to stay and listen, whatever his response would be.
Rory waited for a long time for the voice that would answer the final question. She wanted to hear the words that would tell her exactly where they stood in relation to each other, and the full reason to why he had gone against his better judgment just to make her pay. She waited restlessly, while her hand was squeezing the doorknob, and her heart was throbbing in her chest - but only silence filled the room. She answer she sought never came from the man behind her, and she finally let out a sigh. She should have known. Why would he ever want to give her the satisfaction of knowing when he was and always would be both impenetrable and unreachable? Rory had already decided not to fight. She had already decided to let him and this grudge go, and instead focus on the things that made her sparkly and warm; the things yet to come.
She glanced back over her shoulder and saw his frozen figure sitting at his desk as a dark and sad shadow in the corner of her eye. She gave a faint sigh while closing her eyes briefly, and then she gave the doorknob a hard and final squeeze which opened the door to the future. She left the room without either regrets or second thoughts. She left the room as she had seen this battle through to the end and she was done. She knew that she was so done.
She left him there, sitting at the dark solid block of wood that was building a barrier between them and he saw the distance increase with each step she took. In silence he remained, listening to the fading sound of her heels meeting marble. For a while it was the only thing that existed, and for a while he felt both sadness and regret. He was a man who always obtained the things he desired; but for a moment he felt unsure of what he actually had achieved. For a moment he felt as if the cost had been immensely greater and higher than the gain. He decisively guided his gaze to the precious object on the wall, as always when needing to remind himself. As he studied the thing of beauty that was meant for no one's eyes but his, he felt the briefly consider uncertainty dissolve into nothingness. Those who had what it takes to obtain desired things were privileged with the right to chose what to do with them. That was the simple truth, and the rule he lived by. He suddenly had no doubts, and his face was yet again a mask of impenetrable expressions.
Whether or not still felt an empty hollowness spreading within, no one would ever know - and that was the way it ought to be.