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On Monday Rory went to the doctor. She went late morning, after Logan had gone to work. She brought a book but didn't take it out of her purse and her hands clutched the leather, her palms sweating. Rory tried hard not to look at the clock. She watched five minutes tick past, her effort futile, and then her name was called and she went into the little room.
"Hello, Rory," said the doctor cheerfully. "Take a seat."
The doctor was a woman, like Jess's, with dark hair, and Rory sat opposite her. The room was painted in muted colours but the desk was decorated with family photographs, whom Rory supposed were of the doctor's children. A sign told her her name was Doctor Moran.
Doctor Moran coughed and Rory flushed, settling down on the chair.
"Sorry."
"That's okay," the doctor said pleasantly. "How can I help?"
"I've been feeling kind of low lately," Rory said awkwardly. "I thought – I was told – I thought I should talk about it."
The doctor nodded and Rory admitted,
"I feel a little stupid."
"Why?" Doctor Moran asked, looking up and Rory shrugged.
"I guess I didn't think it was that big a deal."
The doctor wrote something on her pad. Rory leaned forward, wondering what it said, but the doctor said,
"Can you tell me a little about yourself?"
"Me?" Rory asked in surprise. "Don't you have that stuff on file?"
"I have the basic information, yes, but nothing personal."
"You don't know about the boat?" Rory asked. The doctor stared, non-plussed, and Rory fumbled, "My therapist guy at Yale...never mind."
"I don't know anything about that," Doctor Moran said. "I promise."
"Oh," Rory said, feeling stupid. "Good."
There was an awkward pause. The doctor smiled at her.
"Want to start over?"
"Okay," Rory said, taking a deep breath. "Well, you know my name's Rory."
"Unusual name."
"It's short for Lorelai," Rory explained. "That's my mom's name, she named me after herself because guys always name their kids after themselves so why can't women? I think Demerol went into that decision but she says it was all feminism."
The doctor laughed and asked,
"Are you close with your mother?"
"Oh yeah. She's my best friend. She raised me all on her own – I was born in Hartford and we lived there with her parents for a year but then we moved to Stars Hollow and never went back."
"And you had a happy childhood?"
"Totally," Rory confirmed. "I mean, I was a little lonely sometimes and we didn't have much but it didn't matter. Mom was my best friend and she never told me there wasn't anything I couldn't do. I don't think I could have made it through Chilton or Yale without her, even with my grandparents' money. She was so strong. I wish I could be like her."
"You don't think you are?"
Rory shrugged.
"I've never had to raise a kid on my own, and not at sixteen like she did."
"That's not quite what I meant. You don't think you're like her in general?"
Rory shifted uncomfortably. She stared at a gold corner on one of the photoframes.
"I don't know," she said eventually. "No, I could never...Mom never let anything stand in her way. She needed a job, she got one, she needed a home, she made one. I've never been independent like that."
"You don't feel independent?"
"No, I – I used to," Rory said, surprising herself. "When I was at Chilton and starting Yale, but even then, I felt like I was trying to finish something Mom had set out. I wanted to do it, she never pressured me, but I never did anything on my own like that. I got married straight after college."
"What happened after that?"
"We moved to California. I had a couple of jobs but they didn't work out and then we moved home last month when my husband's job changed."
"What do you do in the day?"
"Nothing," Rory said shamefully. "I want to get a job and there's nothing stopping me but it's like...I feel like I failed before I've begun. I lost my last two jobs, not because I did anything wrong, but – it's like I think about applying for something and then I get scared. I'm scared I'll mess it up, or – I don't know. It's like there's a voice in the back of my head telling me there's no point."
Rory took a breath as the doctor scribbled more down on her pad.
"It sounds like you're a little anxious," she said, looking up at Rory.
"I guess."
"Do you have any hobbies?"
"No," Rory said honestly. "I've never had a hobby, not unless you count making gum wrapper necklaces as a kid. I used to read all the time."
"You don't now?"
"I want to," Rory said slowly. "But when I try my mind feels fuzzy. I can't concentrate. I can't finish the page...I did read a book the other day, from a friend. I felt normal again."
"Normal?"
"I used to read a book every day. I couldn't go anywhere without one. I haven't looked at half the books I've unpacked."
"And you feel unhappy?"
Rory looked at the doctor in the eye.
"Yes."
"How unhappy, on a scale of one to ten? On a regular day?"
"I guess...seven," Rory said thoughtfully. "Around that. It feels worse on some days and better on others."
Doctor Moran put down her pen and looked at her.
"Rory, it sounds like you're mildly depressed."
"What?" Rory exclaimed, sitting up. "I can't be."
She stared at the doctor in disbelief. Despite her mother and friends' words, the possibility of depression had seemed an exaggeration, something that couldn't really happen to her.
"Why can't you be?" the doctor asked reasonably. "It happens to lots of people."
"Because I – nothing terrible's happened," Rory flailed. "No one's died or got sick, my husband said –"
"Rory, you don't have to experience something tragic to be depressed. It's normal."
"I don't feel very normal," Rory said miserably. The doctor smiled gently.
"It happens to thousands of people. It's not entirely surprising – a big move, feeling isolated, disappointment at work."
Rory stared at her and Doctor Moran said,
"I'd like to see you again next week."
"I can't," Rory said, slightly relieved. "I'm going away with my husband for two weeks."
"After that then. Maybe a break will help."
"I hope."
"Alright then. Let's talk about treatment..."
Rory left ten minutes later, her head spinning. Depression. She had depression. Not severely but enough for the doctor to give her a bundle of leaflets on which way to treat it, including information about pills she suggested Rory to take. Her arm still felt sore from the blood pressure pump and Rory blinked in the sudden sun, dazzling her eyes. The chime of the clock in the square struck one and Rory almost laughed. She'd been given this bombshell and it was still time for lunch. She drove over to a little café and bought a Panini.
Rory ate her lunch slowly and took out her cellphone. She felt that she should call her mother, tell her how the appointment had been, but Lorelai would want to know what she'd been asked. She wouldn't insist but remembering the questions about her and her childhood made Rory uncomfortable. She put the phone down. She could call Logan but didn't feel like talking to him and the way she knew he would laugh it off. The person she really wanted to talk to was Jess and, after some hesitation, she diallied his number. It rang a few times and someone picked it up.
"Jess's phone."
"Oh, hi," Rory said, surprised. "Who's this?"
"Matthew."
"Jess isn't there?"
"He's in a meeting," Matthew said. "Want me to take a message?"
"Oh – no, it's okay."
"What's your name? I'll tell Jess you called. He'll call you back."
"It's okay," Rory said fiercely. "Don't tell him – it doesn't matter. Thanks. Bye."
"Wait –"
Rory hung up. She looked at the phone nervously, in case Matthew called back, but it stayed silent. She finished her food, picked up her purse and drove home. She would leave for Nantucket in four days.
When she got back her cellphone started ringing. It was Jess.
"Did you call me?"
"How did you know I called you?" Rory asked stiffly. "I didn't leave a message."
"Matthew said some, I quote, chick called. I checked my phone and it was you."
Rory was silent.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
"Nice going, Sherlock."
"Rory."
Rory shut her eyes and sighed.
"I just wanted to see how you were," she said. "I wanted to – it doesn't matter."
"Why didn't you leave a message?"
"Because there wasn't any point! You're in Philadelphia."
There was a beat. Rory pictured Jess rubbing a hand across his face.
"I'm sorry I left," he said. "I didn't want to, I didn't have a choice, it was work –"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does," Jess insisted. "Did you get my letter?"
"Yes," Rory said quietly. They both waited and Rory burst out, "Why did you kiss me?"
"I'm sorry –"
"I know you're sorry!" Rory said angrily. "I want to know why!"
"I just – I don't know," Jess said quietly. "I didn't plan on it."
"It's ruined everything!" Rory cried. "Even if Logan hadn't found out – you changed it."
"I screwed up," Jess said quietly. "If I could take it back –"
"Well, you can't," Rory said harshly. "It's done."
"I know. I'm a jerk."
Rory squeezed her eyes together.
"You're not a jerk," she said eventually. "That's not why I called."
"Why did you call?"
"I called because...I went to the doctor," Rory said. "I got some advice."
"Rory, that's – I'm really proud of you."
"Why?"
"It's not easy, saying you need help."
"No," Rory said quietly. "But it felt easier talking to her than someone I know."
"Life's like that."
Rory wound a lock of hair around her finger, staring at it until Jess eventually said,
"I'm back in ten days. I'll get it if you don't want to see me, but –"
"I'm going to Nantucket," Rory said, cutting him off. "Logan and I are away for two weeks."
"After that?"
"I don't know, Jess," Rory said honestly. "I need to think."
"Okay," Jess said quietly. They fell silent and, to stop it feeling awkward, Rory asked,
"How's Philadelphia?"
"It's okay," Jess said, falsely bright. "Kind of good to be back at the Truncheon."
"Yeah? Have you touched the Liberty Bell?"
"Have I -?" Jess stopped and started laughing. "Why would I touch the Liberty Bell?"
"It sounds like a cool thing to do."
"You're not allowed to do that anymore."
"Oh," Rory said, deflated. "Would you if you could?"
"I can't say it's on my list of priorities," Jess chuckled. "But I'll keep it in mind."
"Good to know."
Rory grinned. It was almost as if the kiss hadn't happened, their conversation friendly and at ease.
"Rory, I've got to go," Jess said apologetically. "My break's up and –"
"Sure," Rory said quickly. "Well...I'll talk to you when I'm back."
"Good," Jess said. "And Rory, I really am glad you got that appointment. It was a smart thing to do."
"You think?"
"I know. See you, Rory."
"See you, Jess."
Rory hung up the phone and sat still, holding the phone in her lap. Her anxiety and confliction about her appointment didn't seem so near and she was still smiling when Logan came home some hours later.
"Hey, Ace," he said cheerfully, kissing the top of her head. "What's for dinner?"
"I haven't decided yet," Rory said, her happiness dissolving. "Logan, I want to talk to you about something."
"Shoot."
Her husband kicked off his shoes and fell into a chair. Rory swallowed and stood beside him.
"I went to the doctor earlier," she started to say. Logan stared and sat up.
"What's wrong? Are you sick?"
"No, I'm not sick – not like that anyway and I'm not pregnant," Rory said, seeing his next question. He frowned.
"What is it then?"
"I've been feeling unhappy lately," Rory said seriously. "So I went to the doctor. She thinks I'm mildly depressed."
"What?"
"Yeah, it was a surprise to me too."
"What does that even mean?"
"I don't know exactly, but –"
"You're sad all the time?"
"Well, not all the time, but –"
"Rory, don't worry about it," Logan said confidently. "We'll be on Martha's Vineyard soon and that'll make you happy."
"Logan, I don't think it's that simple."
"Sure it is," her husband said blithely. "You've just got the blues because of the move. Once we're away from here it'll be fine again. You don't need a doctor."
"Logan, it's more than that."
"You feel that way because I'm not here much and you're lonely," Logan said simply. "Once we're on the island it'll be like old times. Aren't you looking forward to it?"
"Yes, but –"
"And I forgive you for the Jake thing," Logan said, kissing her. "I know it didn't mean anything, you don't really care about each other. You just need some friends. You'll make them at the club."
"That's not –"
"Relax," Logan said, getting up. "Here, I'll take you out for dinner, give you a night off, what do you say?"
"It sounds great," Rory said helplessly. "But Logan –"
"We'll fix this funk in no time," Logan said cheerfully. "Grab your jacket."
Rory did so, saying quietly,
"His name's Jess."
Logan didn't hear. He was whistling as he walked down the stairs and Rory whispered to herself,
"His name's Jess." Her mind stayed with him in Philadelphia all through the night.