Chapter 3: Cruelest of Any Surprise
Scared to death, Rory sobbed hard and often that night, as she sat on her bed holding her mom. Indicating how her thought process was stumbling around in a fog, she at one point asked:
"D-do you think D-Dean will w-want to still t-take me? T-to the p-prom at Chilton?"
Lorelai blinked in surprise. "Of course he will, sweetie!"
But Rory seemed to know better, adamantly shaking her head through the glistening tears on her cheeks. "He won't want to take a girl with no hair to Chilton's prom! It's fine; I'll just call him and tell him I don't want to go! I won't have to pick up the tickets!" And she reached for the phone.
"Whoa, whoa!" Lorelai stopped her. "First of all, little missy - no one said anything about you going bald. Sure, there might be some... hair loss," and she nearly gagged on the phrase. "But surely all of it won't..." Her voice trailed off, as the next phrase seemed almost unspeakable, like a slur. "And second of all, Dean will not abandon you! He seems like the farthest thing from that kind of guy, and I should know - I dated some when I was your age, even before your dad."
Rory's big, cerulean blue eyes peered at her. "Can we pay for the treatment?" she asked, even as she knew that answer was probably no. For as long as Rory could remember, money in their household had been tight, and she had learned intuitively to never complain when some Christmases were less bountiful than others. Her earliest years in the potting shed had been a roughing-it kind of existence, though she hadn't minded.
Lorelai held her daughter's gaze. "Luke's paying for it," she whispered.
Rory nearly fell off the bed, her irises wide. "Luke is paying for the chemo?"
"Just the first round!" Lorelai clarified quickly. "Until then... I'll think of something." Although she knew that Luke would just as readily take the brunt for the next round... and the one after that... even if he would have to force the checks into her hands. She sighed. "Get some rest, babe." She kissed Rory on the forehead, her lips lingering longer than necessary, and she slipped from the room.
Rory's scream jerked Lorelai out of a deep sleep one morning a week or so later. Thank heavens it was a Saturday, the Day of Pre-Rest.
Lorelai staggered down the stairs and dashed into her daughter's bedroom, pulling up short when she saw a wailing Rory gathering in her hands what looked like... locks of her hair... off of her pillow.
Lorelai's eyes welled up. So, this was it then. The proof that they couldn't deny. The first session of chemo radiation from the other day had gone well, according to Dr. Olila. Whatever the fuck that meant, for he hadn't elaborated. Lorelai closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wishing she could somehow bear the pain for her daughter instead...