June 2005

Rory dragged herself up the stairs. There was a time not that long ago when she thought of that statement as an overused hyperbole bordering on the cliché. But today it truly felt like she was dragging. She had never been so tired in her life. She'd just finished up a ten-hour weekend shift at her new job at a large, independent bookstore in Back Bay. Rory was no stranger to work. She'd started taking after school shifts at the Independence Inn as soon as she was legally old enough to do so. She'd had a part time job swiping cards at the Yale cafeteria. And surviving Chilton and her first year of Yale had been as good as a job with the hours of studying she put in every day. Not to mention all the work she put into writing articles for the school paper.

Hard work was hardly a foreign concept to her, so even though she'd never technically had a full-time job before, she had assumed it would be easy. But it wasn't easy, it was exhausting. Of course, it didn't help that her body was currently reallocating the majority of her energy requirements to growing a fetus. And at ten weeks along, it was officially a fetus now—according to the doctor at her Planned Parenthood visit earlier that week. It also didn't help that she was sleeping on the world's most uncomfortable bed. There were nights where she wondered if she'd be better off sleeping in the bathtub. If she weren't worried about catching some sort of fungus in there, she might have actually considered it.

She had thought about buying a new mattress; she had the money from selling her car, after all. But she'd already spent a decent chunk of that on a fake driver's license and social security card, first and last month's rent and security deposit on her studio apartment, and copays at the doctor's. She needed to save every last penny she could to prepare for when the baby came.

Because, for as little sense as it made, she was pretty sure she was keeping this baby. The rational thing to do would be to have the abortion, go back to Connecticut, beg her family for forgiveness, and re-enroll in school. It's what her head told her to do, it's what Jo was telling her to do, it's what every single one of the six pro-con lists she had made told her to do.

But despite all of the reasons not to have this baby, she couldn't seem to bring herself to go through with it. It wasn't that she thought having an abortion was wrong. She'd always been staunchly pro-choice. She still was staunchly pro-choice. She had been nothing but supportive as she sat next to Jo laying on the cold, sterile, medical table, legs propped up in stirrups as the doctor inserted the tube inside of her. She had held her hand and reassured her that it was all going to be okay, and that she was making the right decision.

Rory wasn't anti-abortion. It was just that this baby was the only thing she had left. Because as much as her head, and her friend, and her pro-con lists told her to go home and go back to school, she knew that wasn't an option. Home was never going to be the same after her mother had thrown her out; her mother who had promised to always support her no matter what but had instead forsaken her over a college degree. And school? What for? She had no path anymore. She wasn't cut out for journalism and she had no idea what else she could possibly want to do with her life. When she looked towards her future, all she saw was this big empty void. And the only thing she could think of that could possibly fill it, was the child she was carrying. She'd grown up with the understanding that having an unplanned pregnancy would ruin her life. But her life was already ruined, so what reason was there not to go through with it? Maybe she could make it work. Her Mom had.

And so, in just over six months, she was going to be a mother. A single mother. With no outside support system and no college degree or particularly marketable skills. And that meant she was going to have to scrimp and save and make as much money as possible now to be able to make sure her baby had everything it needed. And that was why, even though Rory wanted nothing more than to ascend one more flight of stairs and enter her own apartment, take a shower, and collapse into her crappy bed, instead she was headed to apartment 3A. Because earlier that day on the way to work, she had heard her neighbors talking about how their babysitter for the evening had cancelled at the last minute and they didn't know what they were going to do. And before she knew what she was saying, she was volunteering to do the job herself. After all, she was going to have to get used to taking care of a baby instead of sleeping, and at least she could make a little extra cash doing it.

Of course, now, faced with the very real task of having to take care of a 10-month-old for the evening, she was regretting everything. What the hell did she know about babies? Was 10 months still even technically a baby? Or were they a toddler? Could they walk yet? Could they talk? What did 10-month-olds eat? They still wore diapers at that age, right? Rory had never in her life changed a diaper. Plus, there was spit up and sticky hands and all the crying. What if she fell asleep accidentally and something happened to the baby? This was a monumentally bad idea. And the three books on childcare she had purchased from the bookstore were suddenly seeming wholly insufficient for the task that lay in front of her.

But there was no turning back now. And so, she lifted her hand and knocked at the door. Tapping her foot anxiously as she waited for it to open.

A moment later, her neighbor, Meg, appeared, bouncing the child on her hip. "Oh, thank god." She glanced back over her shoulder into the apartment. "Brad, Leigh is here." Leigh. She was starting to get used to the name; she no longer found herself looking around to see who people were talking to, but it was still a little weird. It was as though they were talking to her physically, but the person they were addressing was someone else entirely; another entity just taking up space in her body. In a way she supposed that wasn't so far off; the person she was now was completely different from the person she was a month ago.

"Hi." She waved timidly. "Umm, sorry, I'm late. I got stuck at work." It was only five minutes, but she still felt the need to apologize, if only because she wasn't sure what else to say.

"It's fine," Meg waved dismissively with the hand the wasn't holding the baby. It was, however, holding a bottle and a squirt of formula came shooting Rory's way. At least she hoped it was formula and not breast milk. "We're running late ourselves. I haven't been on time since before this one was born. Hell, I wasn't on time for her birth. By the time I got to the hospital I was fully dilated and they refused to give me an epidural. I had to push her out without a stitch of pain meds. And speaking of stitches, I wound up with ten from the vaginal tear she gave me. Did you know you can tear in any direction? That was a fun surprise."

Rory cringed visibly. To be fair, it's not like Meg knew she was pregnant. No one knew but Jo and the fine folks at Planned Parenthood. So, it wasn't like she realized just how vicariously traumatizing her birth story would be. Rory had flashbacks to the story her own mother told her every year on her birthday—the phrase 'doing the splits on a crate of dynamite' came to mind. Rory made a mental note to get to the hospital early. She'd camp out in the parking lot for a week if that's what it took to ensure she got all the pain meds.

Meg was too distracted to notice Rory's reaction, she just turned and waived Rory into the apartment. Rory took in the layout of the place. It was still small, there was no doubt about that, but it was far bigger than her own. For starters, there was more than one room. A slightly ajar door led to what she assumed was the bedroom. The main room was a combination kitchen-living area whose floor was strewn with baby toys. "There's a list of emergency numbers by the phone," Meg informed her. "There are a couple bottles in the fridge as well as some jars of baby food, but we just finishing up a feeding a little while ago, so she probably won't need to eat again tonight. Her bedtime is in an hour and fortunately she's not going through any sleep regressions at the moment so you should hopefully have a fairly uneventful evening. She gets a new diaper right before bed, then two stories. She has a nightlight that projects stars on the ceiling; she loves it. Set the timer for 30 minutes and she'll be out like a light before then.

"Brad, hurry up!" she shouted into the bedroom area. "We're going to be late for our reservations." She turned back to Rory who had yet to utter a word beyond her apology for being late. "I swear, he takes longer to get ready than RuPaul, I don't understand what he does. He's a man—just throw on some jeans and a polo shirt and you're ready. It's not like he's the one who just had a machine attached to his boob, milking him like a cow."

Great, it was breast milk. "Umm…"

"I'm blabbering, I'm sorry," Meg said. "It's habit, I guess. I'm so used to talking to someone who can't talk back, although she can say 'Dada.' Not that I'm bitter about the fact that she said 'Dada' first or anything, considering I'm the one who's here with her all day while Dada is off teaching undergrads and working on this thesis. Anyway…" Meg took a deep breath and seemed to calm down slightly. "You should probably take her." She removed the baby from her hip and held her out towards Rory. "It's probably best if I don't just hand her off and immediately leave. She's dealing with some separation anxiety these days so it's best she gets a few minutes with you before we go." Rory looked at the child with abject terror. What was this woman thinking leaving her child alone with her? She was a Gilmore, she couldn't be trusted to keep a gerbil alive, let alone a human child. Rory was a hair's breadth away from turning and running but Meg just shoved the baby further into her grasp, leaving her no choice but to take her. "Fair warning, she's going to blow a gasket no matter what, but it'll only last for five… ten minutes tops, then she'll be your best friend. She loves peek-a-boo and playing with her blocks. She can also have one episode of Blue's Clues before bed."

"I'm ready." A tall, skinny man with glasses that she had seen a couple times in passing came walking out of the bedroom.

"Brad, this is Leigh," Meg made the introductions. "Leigh, my husband, Brad. He has a pager if you need anything; the number's on the list I told you about. Our reservations are at 8, so we should be home by 11. Feel free to help yourself to anything from the fridge. Thanks so much for doing this. You have no idea how much we appreciate it. We haven't had a night out in months between the baby and Brad's school schedule." A sudden silence came over the room. It seemed unnatural considering how Meg hadn't taken so much as a breath since she'd opened the door. Her ability to ramble could rival that of one Lorelai Gilmore, not that Rory was thinking about that. As far as she was concerned, Lorelai Gilmore didn't exist anymore.

Meg was looking restlessly around the room, probably trying to figure out if there was anything she forgot. Her eyes landed back on the baby in her arms and Rory noticed her chin tremble. Brad stepped up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We should get going."

"Right," the woman who had been so animated just moments ago nodded weakly "Umm, just…" She closed the gap between herself and Rory, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. "Mommy will be back soon, Chloe," she quivered. She gave her daughter a wistful smile before stepping back and sniffling, waving her hand near her face as she took a shaky breath in an attempt to hold back her tears. "God, you'd think it would get easier with time, but it never does. Having a baby, it…" she shook her head at a loss to describe what having a baby did. "Anyway, thanks again," she choked out as she leaned down to give her daughter a goodbye kiss on the forehead.

"It was nice to meet you, Leigh," Brad said as he looped an arm around his wife's back and led her out of the apartment. "Thanks again."

"Have a good night," she managed to squeak out as the door swung shut behind them leaving her alone with Chloe. As the momentary silence was suddenly shattered by an ear piercing wail, Rory once again wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into.

October 2005

Rory placed the customer's new books in a bag and handed them over, glancing at the clock on the wall as she bid the patron goodbye. It was 12:32. She tapped her foot impatiently as she glanced around, looking for her manager. Another couple of minutes passed without the sight of another person and she paced back and forth, wondering how much trouble she would get in if she left her post to go find someone. She only had thirty minutes for lunch as it was, and she was meeting Jo at the Mexican place on the corner.

Normally she wasn't in such a rush to get out on time, but normally Jo just met her there and they ate at the book store's café where Rory could use her employee discount. But today she had important things to talk to her friend about. And the last thing she needed was her coworkers eavesdropping on her. Of course, at the moment it seemed like every one of her coworkers had been raptured off the face of the planet so maybe they could have eaten there after all.

Finally, after what felt akin to the amount of time it took Edmund Hillary to summit Everest, her assistant manager came meandering out of one of the aisles of books. "Dan!" She waved him over.

"What's up, Leigh?"

"I was supposed to go to lunch…" she glanced up at the clock again. "Eight minutes ago. Is anyone coming to replace me?"

"Oh, umm," he glanced lazily around the room. "Where's Mubarak?"

"It's Monday," she reminded him with a role of her eyes wondering how the laziest, idiot in all of Boston had managed to get promoted to management. "Mubarak doesn't work on Mondays."

"Oh, well, umm, I guess let me go see if I can find someone." Rory let out an annoyed huff. She refrained from telling him to hurry. She needed this job; it didn't exactly pay well, especially after taxes, but she'd finally reached the point where she had health insurance and she couldn't risk that by telling off her incompetent boss. Besides, who else was going to hire someone in her current condition? Dan wandered off and she silently contemplated if she'd see him again before her unborn child graduated high school. Another six minutes passed before Jody who had been doing inventory in the back, appeared to relieve her.

"Thanks," she told the other girl as she quickly scooped up her purse and dashed towards the break room to clock out. When she got there, Dan was sipping out of a can of Coke and reading the OHSA posters on the walls. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. "I'm taking my full thirty," she informed him as she slid her timecard into the time clock. "I'll be back at 1:16."

"Whatever," she heard him mumbled as she hurried out of the store to meet Jo.

She tottered down the street in her best approximation of a run, finding her friend sitting at an outside table waiting for her. "Sorry," she huffed out, hands on her swollen belly as she bent over to catch her breath.

"Relax," Jo replied. She appeared completely unperturbed as she glanced up from the menu, then went right back to reading. "Sit down, kick up your swollen cankles and try not to have a heart attack, it's not good for the baby if you die before he's born. Besides, you know I only have morning classes on Mondays, and I'm not exactly in a rush to get home and write up my lab report for O-Chem."

Rory plopped down in a chair, ignoring the dig about her cankles; she wasn't exactly wrong about that these days, especially after all the walking she did on Saturday, not to mention all the sugary and salty treats Logan had bought her. "Dan forgot to get someone to relieve me."

"Again?" Jo rolled her eyes. Her friend was well accustomed to her various rants about Dan and all his incompetencies. "How has that boy not been fired yet?"

"Beats me," Rory shrugged.

Jo finally looked up from her menu and gave her an appraising stare. "You know, I didn't notice it right away, what with all the huffing and puffing like you were the big bad wolf or something, but there's something different about you."

"Is it my swollen cankles?"

"Hah! No," Jo informed her, examining her even more closely, her lips pursing up thoughtfully. "It's your eyes. They look…almost happy, even despite having to deal with Dan the Dud. Also, those big, puffy bags are gone."

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Rory replied with a half-smile, not really offended. She'd lived with Paris Gellar for a year, she'd grown a thick skin. "First I have cankles, now I have puffy eye bags?"

"No, you don't have puffy eye bags. Are you even listening?"

"Why do I put up with you?"

"Because I'm the only reason you're not sleeping in a gutter with no prenatal care," Jo reminded her.

"Yeah, well, I know all your secrets so you should still be nice to me."

"You really want to go toe-to-toe in the 'who has bigger secrets' showdown?" Jo asked. She raised her eyebrows pointedly. It actually was pretty debatable. Secrets were what bonded them together. And while Rory's secret had already altered her whole life, Jo's had the potential to. Jo came from an extremely religious Catholic family. Abortion wasn't just a sin, it was the sin. But Jo was also the first person in her family to go to college. Her parents were so proud of her. And for as different as Jo was from her family, they were also extremely close. She was a lot like Lane that way. And so, her pregnancy and her abortion had to stay a secret. She could never let her family down by letting them know she'd had an unplanned pregnancy that could have derailed her entire future and prevented her from graduating in the spring. And she could never let them know that she'd terminated said pregnancy in order to avoid such a fate.

Fortunately, Rory was the only person who knew, and as much as Rory and Jo goaded each other about their situations, neither one of them would ever reveal each other's secrets. It was just that sometimes, joking about it was the only thing that made it bearable.

"I've been sleeping better the last few nights," Rory replied, returning to Jo's initial observation. It was as good a lead in to her big reveal as she was going to get.

"Really?" Jo asked, "Because just a few days ago you were telling me every time you fell asleep you woke up in a cold sweat thinking you heard your mother at the door. Plus, your back has been in a constant state of spasm and the baby is using your bladder as a trampoline."

The bladder thing hadn't changed, and Rory was still waking up about four times a night to go pee, but she wasn't worried about her family anymore, and her back hadn't felt this good since her uterus had been barren. Her new bed was better than a chiropractor.

"Well, my back has been better. I got a new mattress." Rory shrugged, trying to keep her voice and her posture nonchalant.

"A new mattress?" Jo repeated. "What? With all your secret drug money?"

"Actually, I've been dabbling in pregnancy porn," Rory bantered back with a straight face.

"Welp," Jo popped her p, "there's a market for everything. No kink shaming here."

Rory gave a smile that was half exasperation, half amusement, but then the moment passed, and she knew it was time to get serious again. She picked up her menu, burying her face inside as though she had any intention of reading the list of available meal choices. "It was a present." She flicked her eyes up as inconspicuously as possible to evaluate Jo's response. Her friend's eyes were wide with a strange mixture of surprise and insight.

"A present?" she repeated, nodding knowingly. She stared at Rory unnervingly.

"A birthday present," Rory clarified.

Jo's face scrunched up in confusion. "I thought your birthday was in January."

"Leigh's birthday is in January. Rory's was October 8th."

"Oh my god, you jerk." Jo picked up her menu and reached across the table to hit Rory with it. "It was seriously your 21st birthday this weekend and you didn't tell me? What is wrong with you?"

"What were you going to do? Take me out for shots?" The truth was, she didn't want Jo to know about her birthday. She didn't want anyone to know about her birthday. She wanted to just forget about it and let the day pass uneventfully. But Logan had had other plans and she couldn't say she was disappointed things had turned out the way they did. Confused, yes. But disappointed…no.

"We could have done something," Jo huffed. "You don't spend your 21st birthday alone, no matter how screwed up things are."

"Well…" Rory took a deep breath and set the menu down. "I didn't."

A slow, shrewd smile took over Jo's face. "Oh, reeeeeeally?" she asked.

"Don't give me that look," Rory huffed. "It wasn't like that."

"Please," Jo scoffed.

"It wasn't," she insisted. She needed to keep reminding herself of that. She couldn't let her imagination run away with her. Although, truth be told, judging by the rather explicit dream she'd had Saturday night, it already was. And that was dangerous. "He was just checking up on me. He's my friend; he didn't want me spending my birthday alone, just like you didn't think I should spend my birthday alone."

"Are you hearing the words that are coming out of your mouth right now?"

"What?" Rory huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

"Leigh, boys do not hop on the interstate and drive hours to bring you beds they don't want to do sexy things to you in. I don't care how much disposable income they have."

"He does not want to," Rory made a face, "do sexy things to me. I'm pregnant for god's sake. I'm fat and have stretch marks and…and cankles—which you kindly pointed out. Logan has a literal line of women waiting to get to him."

"And yet he spent his weekend in Boston…with you."

"It doesn't mean anything!" Rory insisted again. She could feel a pressure pulsing behind her pupils, her chest tightening up. "It can't mean anything." Rory's voice came out a shaky whisper as the tears pooled in her eyes.

"Leigh." There was a sigh and then Jo reached out to place her hand gently over hers. "Rory," she corrected. It was so weird hearing that name from Jo's lips. She'd known her real name early on, but she'd never called her by it. "It's okay to be happy."

"No," Rory sniffled back a sob, "it's not."

"Why not?"

"Because it's just a fantasy," she blurted out, whipping her head up furiously. "It's a stupid fantasy. And fantasizing about things you can't have may feel good in the moment, but eventually reality always wins. And if you let yourself believe, if you let yourself think that…" She shook her head, unable to even say it, lest the words take purchase in her brain and leave even the tiniest lingering seed of hope. "I can't have the rug pulled out from under me. Not again."

"Who says it will be? Maybe you're not giving the people in your life enough credit."

"Oh please," Rory scoffed. "Of course it will. Even if you're right and by some miracle he still wants to sleep with me, what then? Huh? We're going to ride off into the sunset together? He's going to marry me and raise another man's baby? He's 23, with a whole life ahead of him. He's got obligations and aspirations. The last thing he needs or wants is to be tied down. And even if he did, I can't let him ruin his life for me."

"So, what? You're just going to run again?"

Rory was silent for a moment, chewing pensively on her lip.

"Leigh!" Jo screeched.

"What?" Rory looked up, startled out of her emotional turmoil. "Oh, no." She shook her head forlornly. "No, I'm not going to run again. I promised him I'd be here when he got back."

Jo blinked in disbelief. "'When he gets back?'" she scrubbed her hands over her face. "So he's already made plans to come back? Do you hear yourself?"

"You don't know him like I do. He's…Logan. He moves a mile a minute, gets bored to two seconds flat. He just…he does these things. He doesn't think anything of hoping in his car and driving off some place or buying expensive presents. It doesn't mean what you think it does."

"You're an idiot."

Rory steeled her face and pushed her chair back. "I should get back to work."

"You've still got 20 minutes. We haven't even ordered yet."

"I'm not hungry," Rory said as she stood.

"You're six months pregnant, you're always hungry."

"Yeah, well, I'm not hungry now." Rory grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

"Leigh," Jo called out helplessly. Rory knew her friend just wanted her to be happy. Despite her tough exterior, Jo was an optimist. But Rory didn't need optimism right not. Optimism was what had gotten her into this mess. She knew it was unfair of her to take all her emotional baggage out on Jo, but she couldn't really help herself at that moment. She'd apologize to her friend later, but for now she just wanted to be alone.

"I'll call you later," she promised as she pushed her chair back in and left.