"We could still leave, you know?"
Lorelai's voice was hopeful as she stood staring at the huge wooden door in her shimmery black dress that fell beneath her knees with stilettos and a black purse to match.
"Oh and just how are we going to get away with that?" Rory replied, standing next to her mother in her own party ensemble, the evening chill drawing goosebumps on her skin.
"Well, the roads are icy, I'm sure we could convince them that we just slipped off the road and were so traumatized by the incident that we are all getting treatment at a psychiatry ward" her mother offered, her well known tone flowing through the air.
"Right" Rory replied under her breath, not impressed.
"I'm freezing, aren't you two freezing?" Tristan asked, his voice optimistically lively, despite the chill. He stood on the other side of Rory, and she could tell it took a great effort for him to make the words come out playful enough to hide the hint of annoyance.
"Look, mister, this is all your fault, so you wait patiently until we consider all our options" Lorelai scolded, shooting Tristan an accusing look.
Rory glanced from one to the other, suddenly feeling like the parent of bickering children.
"How is this my fault?" Tristan asked, feigning innocence.
Rory sighed, knowing that was all the encouragement her mother needed.
"Excuse me? Who was the one who told Emily you two were coming home for Thanksgiving? And then who was the one who ratted me out by letting her know that I wasn't spending it at Liz with Luke?" she asked, her voice reaching dangerously high frequencies.
"I'm sorry, she asked, I couldn't lie" he replied, his voice grumpy.
"Couldn't lie? Couldn't lie? You are a lawyer for god's sake, lying's all you do!" Lorelai rambled.
"Mom" Rory tried to control her mother, but she knew full well it was no use.
To be perfectly honest, she wasn't too happy about having to attend her grandparents' Thanksgiving party . And the fact that her mother was there also didn't make things much easier. She came because, after all, it was still easier than trying to avoid the wrath of Emily Gilmore, but she had a hard time understanding why Tristan, master of avoiding unwanted family occasions, was so disenchanted as to walk into a trap of caviar and socialite chit-chat.
"Look, let's just ring the bell and get this over with" Tristan said sighing, his voice getting more and more impatient.
"There will be no ringing bells until we considered all possible excuses!" Lorelai said, stopping him, her voice dramatic.
Tristan sighed frustrated, muttering under his breath.
"I could say David got sick" Lorelai turned to Rory, her voice desperate and she could tell her mother was in full swing, putting on a whole show, for who knows whatever reason.
"Mom, it's not really nice to use your kid for that" Rory sighed, bouncing the ball right back to her.
"I used you for that all the time!" Lorelai replied.
"Makes me feel special" she murmured, tucking a strand of flowing brunette hair behind her ears.
"I could say I am not comfortable with Luke taking care of him for the night" Lorelai tried again.
"Yeah, that would be real smart, make them think that Luke is unable to take care of his own child" Rory pointed out, her voice becoming annoyed as well.
"Damn" Lorelai cursed quietly.
"Okay, this is ridiculous" Tristan said, apparently fed up with the procrastinating, stepping ahead to ring the bell.
"No! That is not how we do it! That's not the Gilmore tradition" Lorelai said with mock shock.
"Yeah, it's the DuGray way: get in, do your thing, get out as fast as you can" he replied, glancing back at Lorelai as he assumed his previous waiting position.
"Pfff. And you are enjoying sex with this guy?" Lorelai murmured.
"Mom" Rory scolded her mother again just as the door opened.
"Lorelai, Rory, Tristan, at last" Emily greeted them standing in the doorway dressed in an impeccable Channel costume.
Rory looked at her grandmother, who was examining them within seconds, no doubt evaluating whether they were decent enough for the wonderful occasion.
"What took you so long?" she asked sweetly, but she noticed the underlying accusation.
"Our apologies Emily" Tristan stepped inside, his hand squeezing Emily's arm in greeting "the roads were very slippery, I drove slowly just to make sure we get here in one piece" he said, shooting Lorelai a look.
"Oh, how responsible of you" Emily replied beaming "please, come inside" she added and turned to walk in to the foyer that was loud from chatter.
Tristan followed her, Lorelai right behind her.
Rory took a deep breath, the last of the clean, light air, bracing herself for the evening ahead as she followed the others into the house.
"Tristan dear, your parents are already here" Emily said turning to him, her voice candy sweet.
"Oh are, they?" he asked, and she recognized his society smile, with his society demeanor.
"In that case, I am gonna go find them to say hi. Why don't you ladies get some drinks?" he said, turning to Rory and kissing her lightly on the cheek, while he gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.
She smiled at him then watched him disappear into the unusually big crowd, happy that she could hit the bar, instead of making the rounds with him.
"Wow mom, quite a huge crowd this year, huh?" Lorelai asked, eloquently.
"Well, this whole party was going to be at the club, but they canceled on me in the last moment because of some plumbing emergency" Emily explained as she guided the girls towards the bar through the crowd "so we had to move the whole thing in here, which is ridiculous, but at least it gave me a reason to cancel on Constance Bedderton" she added, her voice content.
"How I wish to be Constance" Lorelai murmured under her breath.
"What's that now?" Emily asked, her eyebrow shooting up.
"I said, how nice of the caterer to still do the gig" she said, smiling a fake smile.
"Of course they will do it, we pay them a fortune" Emily said.
"Right. A vodka martini please" Lorelai said, reaching the bar.
"I'll have the same" Rory added, her voice quiet.
"Rory, darling how are things at the paper?" Emily asked turning towards her and Rory felt herself freeze.
She almost forgot the fact that she had not yet told her grandparents of her impulsive decision and she suddenly didn't know how to start. She looked around, absent minded, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Tristan, but he disappeared into the crowd and she felt alone, unable to speak.
"Oh" she said, trying to gain time and strength "the paper?"
"Yes. The Times. Have you gotten any interesting assignments lately?" Emily asked, her voice peremptory.
Rory saw from the corner of her eye Lorelai taking a sip of her freshly acquired drink, her face troubled.
"Actually, grandma, I've been meaning to tell you that I quit the Times" she said, her words coming out in a fast succession.
There was silence, despite the loud conversations and light music, there was heavy silence that seemed to settle in over the three Gilmore women. Rory glanced around nervously as her grandmother stared at her, with the icy gaze that made her blood freeze. She'd seen that stare one too many times and it rarely meant anything good.
"What?" she asked, and Rory noticed how she kept her voice low as she glanced around the room nervously.
Rory almost felt sorry for her in that second and she wished there were a button to pause the conversation, to fast forward or skip altogether, or even to postpone it to some undefined time, but she knew there was no backing down now.
"I have been thinking about doing something else for a long time now and I realized that I wasn't happy at the paper" she explained, formulating her words carefully, as if any words she could have chosen would tame Emily's imminent indignation.
"But it's the New York Times" Emily replied incredulous "it's what you've always wanted!"
She saw the same fear, same panic in her grandmother's eyes that she saw in Tristan's and Lorelai's, or anyone else's for that matter.
"Yeah, well I'm not sure I want that anymore" she replied, her voice strong, yet quiet.
She glanced at her mother who gave her a reassuring smile and she reciprocated wryly.
"Did you know about this?" Emily turned to Lorelai, her anger seeping through her controlled demeanor.
"Uhm, no, actually, no. I knew about her joining the circus and having the illegitimate love child of Tom Jones, but this I did not know" she said, her voice annoyed.
"How could you let her do that?" Emily asked, her eyes shooting sparks.
Rory saw as her mother stopped for a minute, as if pondering something, her blue eyes saddened for a fraction of a second.
"She can do whatever she wants to do. She is a grown woman and smarter than all of us put together, she knows what she's doing" she replied, her demeanor calm.
Emily huffed and looked form Rory to Lorelai, before storming off into the crowd.
Rory sighed, taking a big gulp from her drink.
"Wow" she said "thanks for that" she said quietly, sneaking a peek at her mother who was staring after her own mother, in what seemed like deep concentration.
"I... just realized she said the exact same things to you that I did when I found out" Lorelai said, her face frozen in shock.
Rory sighed, realizing it was true.
"Rory, I am so sorry" she heard her mother say and she looked up to see genuine concern in her eyes "I was shocked and scared for you and I acted like a crazy, controlling mother. I acted like Emily Gilmore. I am Emily Gilmore" she cried, her voice getting hysterical.
"You are not" Rory laughed, tension breaking from her chest in small fits of giggles.
She saw her mother's lips curl into a smile, reflecting her own sad one.
"I'm sorry" Lorelai repeated, her voice a whisper, and her face hurt and she looked at her again, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes as she recognized the momentum, a small resurrection in a way.
"It's okay" she mouthed as her mother pulled her into a strong hug. She felt the smooth touch of her mother's satin dress, her own layers of chiffon rumpling against the strong, revitalizing hold. She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding, her body suddenly resting after a long period of alertness, of worry and disappointment.
She put her arms around her, enjoying the warmth and comfort she felt, happy to be feeling the security she only felt in her mother's arms.
She opened her eyes, blinking the tears away and she spotted his familiar blue eyes from across the room. He stood out from the crowd, watching them from afar and she suddenly knew he was watching all along, knowing exactly what transpired. He stood with a faint smile on his face and she knew she recognized that look of his. It was pride.
xxxxxxxxx
"You planned all of this" she said catching him off guard.
Her voice rang out surprisingly loud in the quiet of the darkened garden.
He had sneaked out for his obligatory break to clear his head and she found him easily, knowing this is where he usually hid at parties like this, when his jaw had frozen into a permanent smile.
"Hey" he greeted her, pulling her into a hug and giving her a kiss, the first real kiss of the evening, now that all eyes weren't on them constantly. She sighed, inhaling his scent, feeling the strong arms around her and his warmness slowly enveloping her.
"Planned what?" he asked as he pulled away slightly to be able to look at her.
His face was unnerved, his lines smooth, but the glint of his eyes gave him away.
"The whole thing. Us coming here. Me having to break it to my grandmother while my mom was there so she could see her reaction" she said, studying his face and noticing the small smirk on his face that appeared slowly.
"Hmm. That sounds like an elaborate plan" he said smiling "and no barbed wire" he added.
She sighed, her suspicions confirmed. She buried her head into his chest, letting him hug her closely.
"Why did you do that?" she asked, her voice small, affected "you don't even like my mother".
He sighed and she could tell without even seeing his face that his expression became serious.
"But you do. You love her. And I wish she could be more appreciative of that" he stated simply, the chronic hurt in his voice apparent to her.
She couldn't say for sure if he was right, but he seemed to be insistent in his opinion. That her mother indeed took her for granted. She liked to think that it wasn't something unintentional and unnoticed, but rather a simple trait in character, something as Lorelaian as wacky banter and excessive need for caffeine.
She didn't want to talk about that though. She suddenly felt the drama for the night had been enough and that if she could instantly be back in her bed, preferably with those stilettos on her heels banished far into the dark corners of her closet, she would fall asleep at once, happy to have put this evening behind her, even with all the breakthroughs and whatnots.
"You running for some kind of 'Best Boyfriend Award'?" she asked, breaking the serious mood and she watched him look out into the garden, chuckling silently.
"Yeah, I got a lead on Brad Whitford. It should be in the bag with this stunt" he said, playing along.
"I don't know, I hear Brad took Jessica on a surprise shopping spree last weekend" she said, leaning into him as she turned to watch the dark garden with him.
"Amateur" he scoffed and she couldn't help but laugh herself, loving their comedic chemistry.
"You tired?" he asked, his voice concerned.
She smiled, looking back up at him.
"I could hit the sack" she replied, arching an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, guiding her towards the main house "You wanna get your mom and sneak out?"
"I think she's already in the car, keeping the motor running" she replied.
They reached the large doors of the house and she stepped in through them, looking around to take a look at the crowd. It was still dense, but she could tell some people have already left.
"I'm gonna get your coats" he whispered in her ear from behind "why don't you go find Lorelai and I'll meet you guys up front?"
"Sounds like a plan" she smiled gratefully, as he kissed the top of her shoulder that was uncovered by her dress.
She blushed slightly, the small gesture sending shivers down her spine and she couldn't help the huge smile spreading on her face as she looked after his departing form.
She felt like a schoolgirl, giddy and happy and she had to take a breath to try to control her smile as she looked around, suddenly feeling silly and also as though their moment had been spied on. Her heart stopped when she felt someone's stare on her.
She looked towards the origin of the brown pair of eyes looking in her direction and she recognized the face that adorned them. The blond woman stood watching her, not bothering to divert her eyes when Rory's gaze met hers. It was Anna, she remembered, and she felt a sudden rush of guilt in her abdomen, watching the other woman look at her, with the proud and reproachful expression of the vanquished.
xxxxxxxxxx
There was something about Sunday afternoons in the city. The way time seemed to float undetermined, without a straight forward usual goal, creating an airless time loop for them to take comfort in. When even though it's obvious time passes, because numbers flash on the clock by the bed and light fades outside, it doesn't seem to leave a trace, it doesn't seem to stir panic, or motivate extraordinary things to happen.
His hand moved down her sides slowly, his fingers firmly tracing her outlines, his lips trailing small kisses on her neck. Her hair, getting long now, spilled all around them, the scent of her shampoo mixing with freshly washed cotton, denim, rough against her skin as she was reminded of just how she could make his body react.
His hand snaked back up to her head, fingers burying themselves into her hair and he pulled her close, kissing her with a quiet determination that made her lightheaded. She heard herself whimper.
She was sure he was the only one that could induce that specific whimper. Sure, the flutter happened before, and the blush, the ragged breathing, moans, sighs, all of that. But the way he seemed to command her, guide her, be able to own her, no one else did that.
She never told him. Partly because it would have felt like a trashy romance novel, declaring to your man that no one ever made you loose it like him, but partly because, like all men, Tristan did not like to be reminded she'd been touched before. He wasn't stupid, he was aware you don't get to the point in your sex life where she was at, with just holding hands and kissing. And maybe in some ways he was grateful for the men who'd come before him, but he did not like to be reminded.
He didn't once ask her about the time they were apart. Whether she'd met anyone, gone out with anyone, slept with anyone. She wasn't sure it didn't matter to him, but she was sure he wasn't willing to have a conversation about it.
Part of her retaliated. The hopelessly female part of her. The part that argued that men should be able to talk about stuff like this, that hidden questions only caused problems, and that anything unearthed would lead to better understanding and deeper connection. In short, the naive part of her. The part she herself didn't quite manage to come to terms with.
"What did you tell Anna?" her voice came like someone else's, like she was watching a movie, that took a mouth gaping turn, the rattle of popcorn suddenly stopping throughout the audience.
She could feel him freeze, her neck suddenly feeling cold without the steady warmness of his breath.
He moved slowly, to look into her face, his eyes cautious, careful and confused.
"When you left?" she elaborated, in case he didn't know what she meant.
"What?" he blinked dumbfounded.
"That girl that you took to my grandparents' party..." she started to explain.
"I know who you're talking about, I just don't know why" he said, his voice defensive as he rolled off the bed.
See, this is not what women want when they pose questions like this, she thought to herself. They don't want awkwardness, or freak outs, or defensiveness. Just simple conversations, performed at an intimate distance, to be able to let the other person know that whatever the subject is, it doesn't cause drifts, hard feelings, problems.
Men don't seem to be able to have serious conversations while touching. They want distance, because distance is a defense, distance is clarity, distance is a tool.
She thought about this as she followed his form with her eyes. He walked out of the bedroom and she could practically hear him muttering.
She lay motionless on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, knowing he'd return without her pushing.
"How..." she heard his confused voice and she looked towards the door to see him leaning against the door frame with a bottle of water in his hand "does this come out of your head when we are..." he trailed off, gesturing towards the bed.
"I'm sorry" she whispered, not really knowing what she was apologizing for.
"I mean, way to kill the mood" he groaned.
"Why does it kill the mood?" she asked, truthfully.
He scoffed.
"Are you kidding me?" he asked and she furrowed her brows, trying to grasp why this would disturb him so much.
"You want to talk about third parties while I'm trying to get you off?" he asked, incredulous.
"You weren't exactly at the point of getting me off" she pointed out, although she sensed this wasn't necessarily her best possible argument.
"I was going to" he said with mock indignation, and she sensed the playfulness in his voice, relieved he wasn't going to force them into a full blown argument.
"I got you to whimper and everything" he added sitting down on the bed.
She chuckled, amused by the fact he unconsciously knew what she had been thinking.
"Rory" he said, his voice determined, serious "nothing... she didn't matter".
"I know that" she cut him off "that's not what I asked".
He turned back to look at her confused.
"I asked you what you told her" she stated simply.
He stared at her for a couple of seconds, and she couldn't help feeling like he was a deer caught in the headlights.
"Please explain why this is important..." he tried one last time, seemingly desperate.
"It's not, I was just trying to have a conversation. Geez, I am not interrogating" she scoffed.
He raised an eyebrow to mock her.
"Whatever. I just don't see why you're making such a scene if she wasn't important" she mumbled.
He sighed, closing his eyes.
"Things were going so well, I did the fingers in the hair move and everything" he mumbled in mock concentration and she couldn't help letting out another chuckle.
He sighed again and moved back to his previous position on the bed, laying next to her, mirroring her actions in staring at the ceiling.
"Ahh" he started, seemingly concentrating on recapturing the memory "I think I told her that I had to go" he said, obviously pained having to reenact the scene.
"Was she disappointed?" she asked, her voice suddenly going into reporter mode.
"I... I guess" he murmured.
"Why?" she asked, genuine interest in her voice.
"God" he groaned, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose "I don't know, because I turned her down?"
"Did she offer herself?" she asked, her voice calm as ever.
There was a silence, not the shameful one, but the contemplative.
"Yeah, I guess... she was pretty willing" he replied, his words solemn and she turned to see his face contemplative.
"Are you sorry you didn't take up on her offer?" she asked, her voice strangely professional.
He furrowed his brows, turning on his side to be able to face her.
"No" he said shaking his head to prove his point "Rory, I told you this before" he said, stressing her name "I couldn't go through with it because there wouldn't have been a point to".
"Why?" she asked and she heard her voice faltering.
"Because I was in love with you. Anything that could have happened would have made that painfully obvious" he said, his voice quiet, serious.
She listened to those words and felt the lump in her throat forming, tears threatening to fall.
"Tristan, I have to tell you something..." she started, but he cut her off, closing his eyes.
"Please don't" he said, and his voice was surprisingly calm.
"But" she tried again, tears rolling down her cheeks, the pain and shame in her chest taking control of her body.
"Rory" he said, pulling her close "it doesn't matter anymore, okay?" he said, his hands wiping the tears from her face.
"But" she stuttered, but she felt him pull her into his chest hushing her.
"I don't care. I don't care" he repeated, like a mantra.
"I am sorry I was so horrible to you" she sobbed.
"Shhh" he hushed her, rocking her gently "you were lost, Mary" he whispered, and the endearment calmed her, making her believe it really didn't matter, that it really was over and done with, a bad dream, that would haunt them for only a little while longer until they both forgot it ever existed.