Sunday, 08.10.08
The heat that settled over Connecticut in late Autumn was more like a light blanket compared to the humidity Rory had faced in Georgia or the oven that was the state of Arizona. It was familiar and pleasant, the air smelled like baked goods and cut grass. The plate of cookies sitting by her side were courtesy of Babette, who seemed incredibly concerned that she might starve in the few hours that her mother was working.
Apparently, ever since Lorelai and Luke had announced little baby Squish they'd been getting an ungodly amount of dessert delivered to the house, mostly as an excuse to visit. After the first week or so, they'd started splitting the baked goods between the diner customers and the guests at the inn. Babette had probably meant the cookies for Lorelai, but she loved Rory just as much as her mother. It was sweet that they wanted to be so involved, but based on the town meeting Taylor held when Lorelai and Luke started dating, the whole family was cautious about releasing information before they were ready. They'd organized a tier system, actually.
Tier one, the obvious one, was just Luke and Lorelai. While officially, Rory was on tier two, she was the first person other than Luke to know any new information. The fact that they talked on the phone every other day since the pregnancy announcement helped keep Rory informed on the various changes to the female body that took place during gestation. It was one of the most effective methods of birth control that she had ever come into contact with, really. A 'mucus plug' was something she wasn't in any hurry to have to worry about. Tier two was the family. Apar from Rory, it included Emily and Richard on the Gilmore side. There was also Sookie, Jackson, Lane, and Jess on tier two, but they'd chosen to exclude Liz and TJ based on the fact that TJ had begun to be incredibly active on MySpace. Rory actually knew the exact amount of times that Doula had been to the park near their apartment in the last month- 11- because TJ insisted on posting a photoshoot's worth of grainy pictures every time. At least he prioritized those over the pictures of dinner every night... They'd been grouped on tier three with the rest of the town.
Rory glanced away from her laptop screen, grabbing a cookie to munch on while she worked. This was the first time that she'd felt any better all week, though her nose was still a raw pink. She'd probably sneezed more in the last 72 hours than she had in her entire life. Or at least more than the epic cold of 1992. Lorelai had been a little hesitant to go to work, knowing that Rory would be alone at the house all day. Seeing as Luke offered to bring her lunch around noon, Rory had promised her mother that she would at least keep herself alive until then. She hadn't had a burger from Luke's in far too long and even with all the fantastic good she did have, that was near treasonous. Besides, she was too focused to really interact with anyone at the moment. She'd taken the time to see everyone off, Lorelai to the inn, Luke to the diner, and Jess to Philadelphia a little bit later than that. As soon as the front door shut that final time, she'd settled into the research process she found so comforting.
For each paper that she'd heard back from so far, which so far included The Chicago Tribune, The Detroit Free Press, and The Philadelphia Inquirer , she'd started a file on the local culture. She was mostly focused on Philly, trying to prepare herself for the phone interview scheduled in a few days. The Philly job was the only offer she'd gotten that actually included getting her work published. The other two papers had offered more permanent spots, but both were internships. She'd spend more time getting coffee and fixing copiers than she would contributing to the actual output of the paper. If she was going to get her job at the Times, she was going to have to make a name for herself in the world of print journalism. Internships wouldn't necessarily do that for her.
Besides, Philly was starting to sound better and better to her. It was only about three and a half hours from Stars Hollow- blowing Detroit's nine hours and Chicago's thirteen out of the water- so she could definitely be home in case of an emergency. She loved New York. There was no question that she would have to live there some day, but that didn't mean that she needed to jump into the first job that would get her close to Manhattan. Philadelphia was cheaper too and if she was determined not to rely on her grandparents now, she would need to keep that in mind.
Even apart from all of the more practical reasons, she could feel the idea of living in Philly growing on her. A new city, a new culture... even if it was for a few months. The city felt warmer to her than it had a few days ago. But she needn't get her hopes up before the interview. She had to prepare herself to get the job, she had to read up on what Philadelphia was.
An hour down that rabbit hole, Rory found herself reading about the Cave of Kelpius. Apparently, Philly had the first doomsday cult in America. That was... something. She'd just gotten to the part about the group disbanding when her phone buzzed and distracted her. A text from Jess:
[from Jess]: I won't be able to get time off for your visit, but I can still help you prep for the interview. Not that you'll need it by then.
Rory rolled her eyes playfully, tapping out her response:
[to Jess]: I haven't even gotten through the phone interview. I think planning a trip is one of those bridges I'll cross some time in the future?
She had barely enough time to get into her research again before the phone buzzed again.
[from Jess]: Fair point.
A moment later.
[from Jess]: Pretty sure Rory Gilmore won't bow down to a phone interview, though.
Rory snorted and typed out a 'thank you', a slight smile on her face. It was hard not to notice the fact that Jess's belief in her felt more... substantial than most anyone else's. The abrasive honesty he gave her was born out of a faith in her ability that she wasn't always sure she had herself. To say that she was placed on a pedestal in Jess's mind didn't feel quite right, Rory just knew that the version of herself that he saw was the Rory Gilmore that she wanted to be. The woman that was strong, independent, smart, and tenacious enough to accomplish the goals that she set her mind to. For months she'd melted into this other, someone who was stuck in a thick fog of indecision, and Jess's voice had acted like a lighthouse to guide her back to herself.
Now she owed him even more for this job opportunity. She debated elaborating on her thanks, her thumbs grazing over the keyboard of her Blackberry, but was interrupted by the arrival of her mother's Jeep. The way that she dropped her phone, an onlooker would have thought the keys had burned her thumbs. Rory felt herself getting a little hot under the collar, like she'd been caught doing something that she didn't want to be seen doing. She shook her head and picked up her phone again, shoving it into her pocket before jogging over to help her mother gather her things from the car.
"Hey, Rory?"
"Hurry! You're gonna miss the explosion!" Rory called back, stretching her neck to look down the hall toward the kitchen. Lorelai had gone to fetch the Swiss Rolls from her snack cupboard so long ago that Rory had almost forgotten her mother was there watching with her.
"Well, Kid, I'd be there to see it if this box didn't weigh a gazillion pounds. As it is, I've already seen Apollonia die," Lorelai responded with a grunt. Rory could only just tear her eyes away from watching Michael Corleone watching his wife shatter into a bunch of tiny pieces to see her mother shuffling down the hallway with a large cardboard box barely lofted above her visibly swollen belly. She paused the movie and jumped off the couch, the blanket falling by the wayside while she rushed to take the box.
"I thought your weight limit was twenty pounds," Rory said, hefting the heavy box onto the coffee table next to the half-full bowl of Skittles-M&M-Reeses surprise. "According to the airport, this is about twenty-five past that."
"What Luke doesn't know won't hurt him," Lorelai responded, shuffling around Rory to lower herself to the edge of the couch. "What's in the box?"
Rory rolled her eyes and started to search for the remote to start the movie again. "I told you, it's a surprise. The only reason I brought it home is because it was too heavy to keep carrying around."
"Mmm..." Lorelai nodded, not looking deterred in the slightest. "What's in the box?"
"I'll give it to you when little Dogberry-Ursula is born," Rory shrugged.
"Puck-Peaseblossom isn't going to be around for another fifteen weeks!" Lorelai insisted.
"I'm surprised you're still holding out on the gender," Rory said, attempting a tactful change of subject while she scanned the coffee table for the remote control. When Sookie was pregnant with Davy she had been on team know-the-baby's-gender, Rory had expected her to stay with the trend with this baby. Luke had wanted to at least abstain until they finished the nursery, worried about making gendered choices and planting a 'trauma bomb' for later on. He had read in one of his parenting books that he had to keep in mind the implications of gender-specific decorations in check, something he shared with Rory one night on a long and rambling phone call that had originally been about plans for Thanksgiving.
Lorelai's face openly expressed the fondness she held for her husband, that she was loving every moment of Luke's near-anal-retentive planning. It was what she had missed the first time around. "Well, once he hangs the last baseball hat on the mobile, we get to open the envelope."
"And the keeper of the envelope is..."
"Sookie. Don't tell anyone though, it'd take Patty and Babette less time to get it out of her than it took Bud White to get info out of Louis," she sighed, finally relaxing back into the couch cushions. "Now, Rory. I think we both know that my Brad Pitt impression isn't perfect. I am, however, willing to do this 'What's in the box' routine for as long as it takes."
For a good few seconds, Rory considered the costs of dodging the question now and the benefits of waiting for Benvolio-Rosalie to be born. She knew that her mother would pepper the question into conversation for the entirety of her last trimester...
"Books," Rory relented, dragging the books to the floor between her legs so that she could pull open the top. "I've been collecting things to read to him-her." A good seventy-five to eighty percent of the books were Dr. Seuss classics, the Berenstain Bears, Shel Silverstein, all of which were found at booksales across the West Coast. It was just the four books on top that were classics.
"Oliver Twist?" Lorelai questioned, reaching forward to pick up the paperback from the pile.
"It's never too early to learn how good you have it," Rory shrugged, picking up the hardcover Wizard of Oz and turning it over in her hands. "I wanted to start their library. Just the essentials," she shrugged, returning the book back to its spot between Runny Babbit and the Davinci Code. "What do you think?"
Rory was surprised to hear the choked sound in Lorelai's voice once she responded. "I think it's really great. Really really great. This kid is lucky to have a sister like you to keep 'em smart."
"Mom..."
"No, no. I'm fine. I'm fine, I promise. I've just been getting those mom-feelings, y'know?" She sniffled and wiped her eyes, hoping to drag herself out of the emotions she was being drowned in. "Pregnancy does it to you sometimes," Lorelai laughed.
After a bear hug, Rory stood to bring the books back where they were in the first place. She leaned down and lifted the box about a foot off the ground with a grunt before dropping them back onto the carpet with a 'thud'. They were ridiculously heavy.
"Maybe Luke will want to see the books?" Rory asked, staring down at the box.
"Yeah. Definitely," Lorelai nodded, standing up and shuffling the long way around the coffee table.
"Where are you going?" Rory asked, kneeling down to shove the box under the coffee table for the time being.
"I forgot to get my snacks," Lorelai shrugged, trekking back to the kitchen. "Want anything?"
"Have any Twinkies?"
"Definitely," Lorelai nodded, disappearing around the corner.
Rory managed to get the box mostly under the table before giving up and spotting the remote, folded into the blanket she'd dropped on the floor. As she was getting up to press play on the Godfather again, her phone buzzed. Her hand flew to her pocket, surprising herself with the over-excitement for a simple text from Jess. 'It's probably something about the interview', she decided. She pulled out the Blackberry and opened her messages... only to see Logan's name at the top of her inbox. She sank back into the couch behind her, pulling the blanket up from the floor and tucking her feet underneath her. The unexamined excitement was gone, replaced by hesitation. Her thumb hovered over her keyboard for a moment before deciding that she was being silly. She couldn't be intimidated by a text message. They were friends. Friendly, at least.
[from Logan]: I just read your article for the Post. Really top notch stuff, Ace. We should celebrate next time you're in California.
The text was easy to read. The words were simple, happy, casual. Maybe that's why Rory read the message so many times. Or maybe it was because seeing him call her 'Ace' again made something in her chest stir. A painful pang of longing or regret that seemed to find her when she was happy just to remind her of what she lost; a person that would love her no matter how many stupid decisions she made, even if one of those decisions was stealing a boat. What hurt more was that he was making it clear that the door was still open for her, first with the Christmas invitation and now again. Rory imagined that this was how Sisyphus felt, pushing the rock up the hill. The only difference between her and the Greek tragedy was that if she stopped pushing her rock, if she stopped demanding to be completely independent, she would have no consequences. She could accept Logan's help and be comfortable in the fact that she just took a shortcut to where he was already going to end up... But the idea of being another Shira Huntzberger was enough to right that train of thought. She couldn't imagine being seen as an accessory of her husband's career. The thought made her stomach turn.
But that being said, she still had a text message to respond to.
[to Logan]: Definitely.
What's the worst that could happen?
Rory slid her phone into her pocket, instead holding the remote when her mother came back with food. "Sorry, Luke moved the Twinkies to make room for more Ho Hos," Lorelai smiled, setting the food down.
"It's alright. Ready to keep going?" Rory asked, grabbing a treat from the plate.
"Yeah, but can you rewind back a little bit? I want to see what I missed."
"You said you've already seen Apollonia die!" Rory protested.
"And I want to see it again," Lorelai declared, taking the remote.
Monday, 08.11.08
"Paper piles. Paper piles everywhere!"
Jess glanced up from his desk, an eyebrow raised. Chris was feinting shock at the state of Jess's area, as though he wasn't there when the papers had stacked up in the first place. He'd gotten into the city at around four, not even bothering to go home before driving to Truncheon. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't have been able to sleep if he didn't finish what he was working on despite knowing full well that he had another two days until his deadline. So many years of suffering the punishments of procrastination had provided Jess with the motivation to get things done when he got them in the first place. Especially in a job that he loved.
"I'll clean up before I leave," Jess shrugged, returning his eyes back to the manuscript. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the final climax of the story was putting him off. There must be some sort of punch being pulled...
Chris peeled himself off the door frame and cross the room, passing his own desk to lean against the edge of Jess's. "So, how was your birthday?"
"It was fine," Jess shrugged, setting down his pen and slouching back in his seat. It might be better to take a break anyway, not that he had a choice. Chris was incredibly persistent. "Ate a cake, watched a movie, saw some friends, saw some family."
"Not a bad way to spend your time," Chris nodded, sitting in the empty space on the edge of his desk. "Did you tell Lorelai about the Inquirer interview?"
"Yeah, I did. She was excited about it." Jess's tone was cooler than the question called for, not feeling the need to expand any further. That didn't seem to matter as Chris felt differently.
"You called in quite a few of your boons just to get her article into the right hands."
Jess avoided his eyes, instead leaning back over his desk to pretend to scan a page. He wasn't going to get any work done under these conditions, but seeming unaffected was the best course of action. "She's an old friend. She helped me once and I'm just returning the favor," Jess spared his friend a pointed smile that read 'do not press the issue'.
"Does she know she's gonna have to come to Philly for the job? I can't see you two hanging out all the time," Chris pointed out, crossing his arms.
"Yeah, she knows," Jess clipped. "I already told her I'd help her find a place to stay if the interview goes well."
Here is where Jess expected Chris, ever the joke-teller, to come up with some quip about oil and water or maybe the classic playing with fire gag that always was so funny. Instead, he was quiet. When he actually did speak, he didn't sound anything but concerned.
"Why do you put so much effort into trying to appease her? She's just Luke's wife."
Jess pursed his lips and shrugged. "Family is family."
Through no attempt at deceiving his friends, Jess had managed to land himself in an unlucky situation. Rory published under her full name, Lorelai Gilmore. When Jess started his crusade to get Rory an interview with the Inquirer he'd only said that he needed Chris to send a friend's article to his cousin, he hadn't actually used Rory's name. Chris, having heard Jess mention his uncle's fiance a few times throughout the years (namely how she disliked him), assumed that the Lorelai Gilmore he was trying to help was the Lorelai Gilmore that was marrying his uncle. Instead of explaining that Jess was trying to help the girl from their open house, knowing that fielding those questions would be opening a lot of newly healed wounds, he just went with it. It was dishonest to let Chris keep thinking that he was putting all this effort in to better his relationship with his aunt-in-law, but the alternative being a lot of uncomfortable accusations of lingering feelings made him care a little bit less.
"I hope it all works out," Chris sighed, patting Jess's shoulder. "Don't stay too late, alright? I just came in to get something I forgot. Make sure you lock up behind yourself," he reminded, crossing to get to his own desk and shuffle through the drawers.
"Of course," Jess nodded, waving to his friend as he headed toward the door.
"Have a good night, Jess. Alright? Don't stay too late."
"Goodbye, Chris," He responded with a wry smile.
Tuesday, 9.23.08
In one hand was her laptop bag, notepads sticking out of the side pocket in a precarious fashion, the other held a Santa like sack of laundry slung over her shoulder. Across her torso was a duffel bag that was probably permanently bending her spine, her purse slung across the other way. Rory had faced a lot in her life, but her most intimidating adversary thus far might be the staircase to Paris's apartment.
Rory had to be in Mississippi by Tuesday. On Thursday, the first official presidential debate was going to be televised. Had she stayed with the group that was currently in New Hampshire, she would be getting ready to get on a bus going all the way to the magnolia state. Instead, she took the opportunity to visit her ex roommate, Paris, while she still could. Paris seemed to have a very limited window of time that she was willing to share with anyone not related to Harvard Medical School.
It was understandable that her schedule would be a lot more strict then it had been even at Yale. Rory understood that this was the big leagues in Paris is mind, this was the school that her family legacy was born from. All of her Chilton planning and her Yale accomplishments wouldn't pale in comparison, but would most definitely be outshone by her intense need to be the best in her class. There wasn't a doubt in Rory's mind that Harvard had gained a remarkably adept student, though sometimes she did wonder about Paris's bedside manner.
Either way, for the first time in over seven months, Rory had been explicitly invited to see Paris over the weekend. Seeing as she had a tight deadline for when she had to be in Mississippi and Paris Had classes to attend, she would really only be staying Saturday night into Sunday morning. They had plans to check out a few historical spot, but Rory was content relaxing in Paris and Doyle's apartment until she had to leave for her plane. If she never had to walk up this flight of stairs again, she might be able to die happy. Why on God's green earth Paris had chosen to live on a fourth floor walk up was beyond anything Rory could comprehend.
As she hit the third and final landing, Rory was cursing herself for not taking advantage of the gyms in all of the hotels she had stayed in. Sometimes her roommate and a few other reporters her age would go down together, like it was a fun group activity. She always said something along the lines of 'catch ya later'.
Later head definitely caught her, she thought as she dropped her bag of laundry by the door. She'd barely had to knock on the door before it flew open to reveal-
"Doyle?"
It was Doyle. It was Doyle with a fake blonde mustache and wig, thick-framed lens-less glasses, a tweed jacket, and what looked like a raisin superglued to his forehead.
"Hey, Rory! C'mon in! Paris is just looking for something in her books in the other room, I'll go get her." He leaned over and grabbed her bag of clothes, hauling it inside the door with a grunt, only to leave it next to the full human skeleton standing next to the coat rack. Rory opened her mouth to ask, but a cursory look around the room found that he was not along. No, there were no other skeletons around. But from her stance by the door, Rory could see at least six more.
"Go ahead and sit on the couch, make yourself at home. Do you want some lemonade?" Doyle asked, pointing toward the kitchen behind him. Rory shrugged, unloading her bags onto the ground next to her laundry before sliding out of her shoes and walking to the couch.
Rory shrugged, waving him off, "No, I'm alright for now. But what's up with the-"
"Ha!"
The shout came from the hallway, soon followed by pounding footsteps and absolute nonsense. "Seals lick transparent postcards, then tile country homes!" Paris declared, stopping in the entrance to the living room and holding a notecard toward her boyfriend victoriously.
"I hope they get paid well for it," Rory murmured, not sure that Paris had even realized that she was present.
"I kept forgetting trapezium," Paris continued, handing Doyle the note card. "I knew there were eight!"
"That's why the sentence wasn't working. See, I was right to have faith in your mnemonic devices," Doyle grinned, handing the card back and turning back to Rory while Paris turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall again. "We've been studying for a test she has on Wednesday."
"Does it involve a costume change?" Rory asked, gesturing to his outfit.
"What? Oh, no, this is based on a theory Paris has," Doyle explained, sitting in the armchair across the coffee table from Rory's seat. "There was this study done that showed that if you chew a certain type of gum while you study and then you chew the same type of gum when you take an exam, it helps you to remember what you studied. Some association between the information and the taste is supposed to form. So, Paris thought that because human beings are sight-based creatures, she could transfer the same theory onto visual stimuli."
"Ahh..." Rory said, watching Doyle peel off the Magnum-esque mustache and set it on the table next to that day's Boston Globe. "So who are you supposed to be?"
"Her Biomedical Anatomy professor," Doyle said, dropping the wig and glasses next to the mustache. They both turned back to the door when Paris returned with a tightly stuffed backpack. "Am I all packed?"
"Packed?" Rory echoed, watching Doyle move to collect the backpack.
"Doyle's going to stay with a friend for the weekend," Paris explained, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Paris and I thought that it might be easier for you two to catch up if you didn't have to use code words that go over my head," Doyle nodded, returning the kiss. "I'll be back tomorrow night." The couple moved toward the door, speaking in hushed tones before laughter bubbled up and they said goodbye again. The door shuts behind Doyle.
"Do you have something to tell me?" Rory asked, confused as to the need for secrecy that forced Doyle out the door. She thought his birthday was some time in March, she couldn't imagine it was a surprise party.
"No, I thought you might like it if you didn't have to worry about him overhearing us talk," Paris responded, walking toward the kitchen. "Do you want some lemonade?"
"Sure," Rory stood and followed Paris around the corner, leaning against a counter while she watched Paris fish two cups out of the cupboard. "I don't have anything to talk about that Doyle can't hear."
"I thought you were talking to Logan again," Paris said, her tone holding what Rory felt was an overabundance of concern.
"I am talking to Logan again. We're still friends." That caught a look from Paris. "Friendly, then. We're friendly. We're always going to be friendly."
Paris didn't speak for the time that it took her to pull out the lemonade and pour both herself and Rory a drink. "Aren't you getting friendly with Jess?"
Rory rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink. "That is not the same kind of friendly, Paris."
"What kind of friendly is it, then? A Joey-Chandler type of friendly or a Chandler-Monica type of friendly?"
"This is the type of interrogation I'd expect from someone in middle school," Rory complained, walking back to the living room.
"And that's the type of evasion that I'd expect from someone in middle school," Paris retorted, trailing closely behind.
"It's a non-issue, alright? The two types of friendly aren't in conflict and neither one is an issue," Rory assured her friend, plopping back onto the couch next to her. "I'm talking to Logan maybe once a week. He tells me about his job, I tell him about the campaign. Jess and I... Well, we mostly talk about books. Family stuff. I'm keeping him updated on my progress with the Inquirer."
"He got you that interview, didn't he?" Paris asked, her tone too completely innocent to be genuinely curious.
"Yes, he did," Rory said coolly.
"That seems like it might be a little more than just friendly type behavior."
"Well, it is a friendly-type behavior. I'd do it for you and you don't think that's anything more than friendly, do you?" Rory responded, a heat seeping into her voice that made it clear the topic was closed.
"Fine, fine. Then it's just friendly," Paris shrugged, curling into the other end of the sofa. "How did your phone interview go?"
"It went well. I already have a second planned and then if that goes well there'll probably be a third and then an in-person interview after the election," Rory said, grateful for the switch in topic.
"That seems like a lot for a temporary position."
"It is a lot," Rory confirmed. "They say that they want to take the opportunity of a temporary opening to appeal to a different audience. A younger audience, specifically. They're looking at a lot of recent college grads for this, so there's a hell of a competition. They're mostly looking at locals and New Yorkers, so Jess sending in my work was a stroke of luck."
"Maybe you should send him a fruit basket," Paris suggested.
For a moment, Rory considered whether or not she was serious. "Maybe I will," She shrugged, finishing her glass and setting it down on one of the coasters that Paris had painted.
"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"
Though the insistence was irritating, it was nice that Paris wanted to help Rory sort through the confusing details of her love life. "I'm definitely sure," Rory nodded, pulling the elastic out of her hair and letting it feather out onto her shoulders.
"Fine. Then why don't you tell me about the actual job while we do the laundry," Paris suggested, pointing across the room at the bag she'd brought along.
"Oh, I was just gonna do that on my own. Figured I'd do it when you had to study or shower or something," Rory said. Paris waved her hand and placed her glass on a coaster with a fairly well painted sunflower design before standing.
"Doyle and I are trying to be solidly productive between 8 am and 8 pm, it's how I've gotten so much done since we moved in here," Paris explained, gesturing around the room.
"How long has it been since you moved in?" Rory asked, moving toward the door after Paris.
"We moved two weeks ago. Almost two weeks ago, anyway," she nodded, picking her keys off the hook by the door. "So, do you think you'll get the Inquirer job?"
"I think I have a good shot at it. The phone interview went really well, I was told that I sounded charming and professional. Though, that was coming from my tipsy roommate listening in through the bathroom door," Rory chuckled, sliding her feet into her sneakers before slinging her sack over her shoulder.
"You've got to be willing to live in Philadelphia for, don't you?" Paris asked, opening the door for Rory to shamble for.
"Yeah, I do. But I think that living in a city that isn't New York might be nice. It'll be an experience I've never had before, definitely nothing to shy away from," Rory responded. "Where's the laundry room for this floor?" She asked, peering down the relatively short hallway.
"Oh, the laundry room for the building is in the basement," Paris said, shutting and locking the door to the apartment behind them.
Friday, 10.14.08
"…The ancient purity of marble pillars; arms hoisting polished promises, shimmering ideals and feet planted firmly on the sturdy foundation crafted from the bones of my father, the blood of my sisters, the tears of my mother…"
The room was dim and the desks were pushed to the walls again, the last steps of the wooden staircase providing a makeshift stage for each of the month's featured poets. Jess was sat near the back of the group on a small wooden stool, too focused on the fact that everything seemed to be going well to actually appreciate how well everything was going. Half the office had managed to get sick, leaving the healthy half to contact all of the authors and Jess to organize their monthly poetry showcase right down to the snacks. Speaking of snacks, he could see that they were nearly out of the 7 layer dip that Tim had brought. Not something he expected.
Jess pushed his fringe back from his face, trying to focus back in on what Nadia was saying for a good few seconds before realizing she had relinquished the stage to Marcus. Shit. Well, he heard part of it at least. He'd have to play back the tape if he wanted to talk to her about what she said. She was one of the ones that he had the most faith in, she always had her shit together. It was the thing he appreciated most about her, not that there weren't other things to appreciate. In addition to being anti-establishment, she was one of the smaller subsection poets calling for revolution that also didn't think they were poised to be the next Nelson Mandela. All of that just meant that she was fun to talk to, funny too.
Marcus was about halfway through his poem when Jess his personal phone started to buzz. Shit. He couldn't very well check the caller ID without bothering the people actually focusing around him, so he instead stood and started to wade through the crowd packed around the staircase.
Once he'd finally broken from the crowd, Jess speedwalked to the exit. He cursed quietly when the door opened, knowing that the light jacket he was wearing wasn't going to shield him from the mid-October nighttime chill. Even better, once he stepped out onto the landing he noticed that it was spitting rain, just enough to be annoying. And he knew damn well that when he finally made it back inside that the stool he'd spent all night saving for himself was going to be occupied. Using one hand to stop the door from swinging shut too loudly, Jess used the other to fish his phone out from his pocket.
"Hello?" He answered, unsure if he'd caught the caller before they'd been sent to voicemail.
"I got it!"
Jess winced at the volume, pulling the receiver away from his ear for a moment. "Rory, hey! Sorry, I didn't hear that last part, my eardrums exploded. What did you get?" Jess said, looking down at the sidewalk at the end of the metal staircase and wondering whether it would be worth it to descent and find shelter under the awning of the bakery below. He decided against it.
"Sorry, sorry! I just- Jess, I got it. I got the in person interview!" Rory exclaimed, a little out of breath. He supposed that that was just from already having called everyone else in her phone book to share the exciting news.
"Really? That's awesome! When is it?" He asked, leaning against the rain-speckled railing behind him and folding his jacket a little tighter around his body. No, it didn't actually help with the rain.
"We still have to set that part up, Rita just called me and let me know that she wanted to tell me when the interview was over, but she had to talk to someone- long story short, it'll probably be in late November, early December. She said she wanted to give me time to finish the work I was doing on the campaign so that I could really focus on the piece they want me to write for the interview," Rory said, obviously ecstatic.
"That's great, Rory." Jess said, his eyes aimlessly watching the cars that passed under the flickering yellow streetlight. "What do they want you to write?"
Rory whistled. "Something investigative. Rita said that she wanted something representative of what I wanted to do with the position, y'know? A piece that fits the cultural nature of the position while also working with my style of writing. The way she phrased it was that this position is my 'chance to make my name earlier than anyone else in my graduating class'."
"So, no pressure," Jess chuckled, trying to fix what the breeze was trying to do to his hair.
"No, definitely no pressure," Rory laughed along. Jess could picture the look on her face, how she eyebrows animated and her cheeks turned pink when she was passionate about what she was talking about. When she spoke up again, she sounded marginally less thrilled. "They told me after the first phone interview that there was probably going to be a third phone interview before they made their decision on the in-person meetings. The pool was apparently pretty massive, so they didn't think that just two rounds of cuts would do it."
Damn. From what he heard the pool really was competitive, he'd even started to feel a bit of worry for Rory's sake. "Sounds like you beat out the best of them, Egon."
"But what if I didn't beat them?"
"What does that mean?" Jess asked, his brow wrinkled.
"What if I didn't beat them? What if I just didn't suck?" She said, as though that explained her worries.
"Rory, I'm gonna need you to dumb it down for me; what is bad about getting the in-person interview?"
Rory let out a huff of air before elaborating. "What if the only reason they pushed me through is because they're so stringent that no one could keep up? What if they needed to meet with ten people out of a hundred and they'd already cut ninety? What if I would have been ninety-one?"
The absurdity of what she'd just said made Jess press his phone against his chest so that his snort was muffled. If she really was worried, he didn't imagine that would help.
"Rory," he said plainly, "If their rules are really all that strict, they aren't pushing through one of the Griswolds just to meet a quota. All the people that applied were probably college grads with at least a little experience. Even if half of them were Kirk, you still beat out a pretty competitive crowd." He was met with a pretty loud silence. "I've read all your published pieces, so trust me: they loved you. You're on the fast track, Rory."
"You think so?" She asked, clearly uncertain as to whether or not she wanted to let herself revel in the accomplishment that this was.
Jess found himself nodding. "Yeah. You beat out a hundred other guys, there's no way you'd be around if you didn't. You probably heard all this from your mom and Luke, but you have something to be proud of. You kicked some serious ass."
"I haven't actually called them yet," Rory said, the caution in her voice having dissipated. She sounded calmer. Warmer.
That gave Jess some pause, not sure how to build off of that. "Are you two fighting or something?"
"No, I just… I mean, you helped me get the first interview. I figured you'd want to know that I got it-"
"I'm definitely glad you called," Jess interjected, not wanting her to second guess herself. "I mean, they're probably asleep by now. I haven't been able to get a hold of either of them after eight for the last month or so."
"Yeah, mom's barely able to make it that late nowadays. Apparently she feels like a Babushka doll."
"That's one of those Russian dolls with the little dolls inside?" Jess asked.
"I thought it was fitting," Rory confirmed. "I was gonna call them in the morning, I figured you'd still be awake though. I'm not interrupting anything, am I? I don't need to keep you if you're busy."
"No, no, I'm doing alright. Nothing is pressing," he shrugged, glancing at the door for a moment. He probably should go back in soon. "So… I mean, I know you. You've got to have some ideas for the article already, right? Anything good?"
"I have a few," Rory said. "I'm trying to focus on the more popular books for now, I figure it's a good way to gauge what the youth is interested in."
"You're probably right about the youth, Grandma," Jess teased. He opened his mouth to suggest something when the door opened behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, only to see Matthew peeking out at him.
"Is everything alright?" Matthew mouthed, pointing at Jess's phone. He nodded and held up his hand, trying to listen to what Rory was saying.
"-so I'm thinking more of a youth empowerment-revolutionary overtone, that way I can have a more cohesive moral at the end."
"That sounds good. I'm excited to read it," he smiled, turning slightly away so that Matthew couldn't see his face.
"Is it alright if I send you a draft when I finish? I think an outside opinion might be a good idea," Rory asked.
"Of course, yeah. I'll help wherever you want me. No charge," he joked. "And, hey. Keep me updated about when you're going to be in town, alright?"
"Sure, I can do that. We could grab lunch or something?"
"Sounds great. And worst comes to worst and you can't find a place to stay on short notice, I have a pretty uncomfortable couch that's up for grabs," Jess offered, regretting almost immediately. No, he didn't not want Rory around, he just didn't want to seem like he thought some sort of door was open between them. It was made painfully clear that the door was slammed shut last time she was in town.
"I'll keep it in mind," Rory responded pleasantly.
"Do," Jess nodded, a relieved breath escaping to let his shoulders sag. "I've actually got to go now, sorry. The pressing stuff started."
"Don't let me keep you. I'll text you if anything else comes up," Rory said.
"Alright! Sounds good. I'll talk to you then."
"Bye, Jess."
"Bye." He hung up and turned back to the door, a little surprised to see Matt still standing there. He was just watching, an odd expression on his face. "What?"
"Nothing, nothing. We're just gonna start finishing up," Matt said, stepping back so that Jess could step past him and into the building. "I wanted to make sure the raccoons didn't get you."
"You didn't get that lucky," Jess quipped.
"I'm just gonna have to settle for second most handsome in the office, then," he sighed, the dejection sounding almost real.
"I don't know about that, Mark's been working out," Jess said, clapping Matt on the shoulder and walking back toward the reading.
"Mark? Seriously?"
-–
Monday, 11.10.2008
A plate of fries slid across the counter to come into gentle contact with the side of Rory's copy of Barnaby Rudge. She barely looked up, instead switching to one-handed typing while she snagged a few fries from the plate.
"Thanks Caesar," she murmurs, re-reading what she'd just written. 'It is natural to defer to the judgement of those with personal experience, especially considering that that is exactly what we as human beings are taught for the first twenty-or-so years of our lives. However, the difference between the-'. She frowned and deleted the beginning of the last sentence. 'In spite of this urge-'. No, not it. 'Though it seems-'."
"Son of a bitch," Rory grumbled, slouching on her stool and munching on fries while she considered the phrasing of what she wanted to say. "Hey, Sookie, can you take a look at this for me?" she asked, turning the laptop to face the table by the window.
"Sure, Cupcake. Just let me finish this last nail," Sookie responded, trying to move so that she could find a better angle on Lorelai's pinkie nail. Her mother was being 'pampered' at the moment, sitting in a special chair with her feet up on one of the other diner chairs. Her eyes were closed and her headphones were blaring AC/DC, the hand that Sookie had already painted resting atop her bump. Rory tried another way of phrasing what she was saying, again unsuccessful, before Sookie managed to get away.
"What's a good substitute for 'however'? I keep looking for something better, but that's all I come up with," Rory explained, highlighting the lead-in sentence.
"Would 'despite' work? Or maybe 'yet'?" Sookie suggested, scanning over what Rory had written.
"Almost," Rory murmured, drilling her nails against the notepad next to her. "What do you think of 'nonetheless'? Is it too much?"
Before either of them could consider more alternatives, they were distracted by sharp intake of breath from their left. Rory and Sookie turned to see Lorelai, her chin raised to the sky and her hands splayed out and tense.
"Six minutes, forty-seven seconds," Rory announced, snatching her stopwatch up off the notepad and stopping it. Luke, having previously been banished to the kitchen area, stepped out cautiously.
"How long?" He asked, untying his apron.
"Six minutes, forty-seven seconds," Rory repeated. "You've got a little bit to go." Luke made a face, glancing over at Lorelai before returning back to his area. He'd bothered Lorelai about leaving for the hospital one too many times, resulting in him being imprisoned behind the counter. It was his near-murder of Taylor that pushed him into the back room. If he had his way, they'd have gone when Lorelai's water broke, but being as Lorelai had already been through the process once before, she was insistent that they not go too early.
The reason for Lorelai's closed eyes was… well, manifold. Not only was she trying to distract herself from the waves of intense pain, but for the last hour or so there had been not-so-subtle people walking by the window for updates on the situation. The diner was open for those brave enough to deal with Luke when he was this stressed, but that didn't seem to include more than a handful of Stars Hollow citizens. Those brave few were sitting on the opposite end of the diner and talking quietly amongst themselves. Those brave few included Kirk, who was being constantly texted. Rory had a theory that he was a Patty-Babette plant.
Back to what she was writing.
'…years of out lives. Nonetheless…' no, 'Nevertheless, the flexibility and innovation that comes with youth has formed the backbone of revolutions throughout all of history.'
Pretty good for a first draft. There was an avenue toward including her experience with the Obama campaign, mentioning that his targeting of young voters had lead to the success of his bid for office… no, best to keep this as a-political as possible. She was going for inspiration, not a history lesson. Instead, she slid into a literary example and lost herself in the smooth flow of thoughts as they spilled out of her and across the keyboard. She didn't look up again until Lorelai swore and broke her concentration.
"Son of a bitch," Lorelai said, dragging her hands over her face.
"Six minutes, twenty seven seconds," Rory said, glancing at the kitchen to see if Luke would bother poking his head out. She felt a little off just calling out the times like it was nothing but running laps, but her mother had insisted that she needed everyone to go about their business. Any extra stress would be too much for her to deal with. Either way, the pain on Lorelai's face had wiped whatever Rory was prepared to write next from her mind.
For the first time in maybe half an hour, Lorelai opened her eyes. She had her Wonder Woman expression, the look that said she was ready to kick someone's ass with no remorse.
"Time to go," she finally said, the contraction finally having receded. Luke appeared like he'd been summoned, his apron already in hand. He handed off the apron to Caesar and swung his arm down to pick up Lorelai's hospital bag in one smooth motion.
"Alright, come on, let's go," Luke said, kneeling down next to Sookie's chair so that he could grab Lorelai's slippers. Gently, he slipped them onto her feet before standing and taking her hand. Lorelai stood up with a grunt, her free hand holding her back. Rory's attention was ensnared of the fluidity of their movements, forgetting for a moment that she was meant to gather her things and scramble.
"Do you want me to go pull the truck up?" She asked, slinging her laptop bag over her shoulder and shuffling out after her mother, Luke, and Sookie.
"No, we're not taking the truck," Luke said, his eyes on Lorelai. He kissed his wife's knuckles before releasing her hand and jogging down the block toward the shiny grey minivan that stood alone on the street.
"He rented a minivan?" Rory asked quietly, exchanging a look with Sookie.
"He bought a minivan," Lorelai responded, more focused on avoiding puddles than whatever Luke was doing with the bag.
"What happened to the truck? How did I not hear about this?" Rory asked, trying to suppress laughter.
"The truck is fine. It's just not his family car," Lorelai explained, stepping over a short snowbank to join Luke by the passenger's seat.
"I didn't realize we were members of the Partridge family is all," Rory teased, sliding open the back door for herself and Sookie.
"If it weren't for the paint fumes, I'd have already broken out the primary colors," Lorelai replied, carefully climbing into her seat.
"Luke, I want you to know that I love you. I also want you to know that I am going to call you some pretty awful shit and blame you entirely."
Two hours ago, Lorelai had said that. Rory hadn't been in the room the whole time, she'd visited with Sookie and her grandparents out in the waiting room, but Lorelai was more or less incredibly right when she warned Luke about what she was saying. He took it like a pro.
Now that they were in the final stage and Lorelai was pushing, her attention had been more focused on the doctors poised to catch the baby.
"I sweat to Christ, if you tell me 'only one more push' one more motherfucking time I am going to kick you in the face. I will kick you square in the face," happened to be Rory's favorite.
Now, as Rory had heard nearly every birthday her entire life, Lorelai was swearing like a sailor on leave, though it wasn't directed at anyone specifically. She remembered giggling tiredly, cuddling into her mother, and falling back asleep when the story was over. This was… this was much different than she'd ever imagined.
While Luke was strong, holding her hand and whispering encouragement to her when he could manage, Rory was scared. She didn't dare look toward the end of the bed, specifically turning her back to the sight, but she could smell the blood. Obviously she took no pleasure in her mother's pain, but even having prepared herself for the sight she could hear her blood rushing. Her heartbeat was so heavy that it rocked her on her feet. She wouldn't say a damn thing about it, not when her mother was holding her hand like this.
"The head is coming," the doctor called from the end of the bed.
Instead of whatever witty quip Lorelai might have come up with in that moment disappeared with the pain of a contraction. A few tears managed to escape from her eyes, mixing with the sweat from the effort of pushing again.
"And the head is out!"
Rory nearly turned and looked, deciding against it at the last moment. She could stand to wait another push to meet her brother for the first time.
"Okay, Lorelai. This is it, one more push and it's over. Count of three, bare down until it's over, okay?" The suggestion was met with a half-shriek-half-laugh. They counted to three and Lorelai let out a low-pitched demon-like noise, pushing with all of the energy she had left.
Rory had never been so amazed by her mother.
And then it was over. Lorelai collapsed back into the bed, panting and sweating and finally done. Her hand went limp in Rory's, though Rory held on. Luke leaned in to kiss his wife's forehead, whispering praise while the doctors moved to clean and wrap the baby in a soft white blanket. Her brother was screaming.
Rory finally turned toward the end of her bed, her stomach turning at the blood on the nurses' smocks. Instead, she focused on the newly wrapped blanket, watching as one nurse passes the bundle to another. Rory takes a step away from her mother, letting go of her hand for the first time in an over an hour.
The nurse walked to Lorelai's beside, bending down to transfer the bundle over with a "Here you go, mommy".
Just like that, the crying stopped.
Rory hadn't noticed that she was crying until she had to wipe her tears off of her chin. The room had been so loud, so chaotic… Now it was like that faded into the background. Lorelai was exhausted, but the pure love radiating from her eyes was enough. She didn't have to say anything, though she still managed.
"Hi, Will," she said softly, her voice cracking. "We waited so long to meet you."
Luke couldn't have looked more blissfully happy if he'd won the World Series right in that moment. He was in awe, the dictionary definition of awe.
Reluctantly, Rory started to move toward the door.
"I'm gonna go tell Grandma and Grandpa," she said, not wanting them to think she had abandoned them.
Lorelai's eyes raised from her newest baby to her oldest, probably moments from passing out.
"Okay," Lorelai said, glancing up at Luke before looking back at Rory. "Okay, but come back. Your brother's gonna want to meet you."
"I promise," Rory nodded, offering a smile to her mother and Luke before slipping out into the hall.
Tuesday, 11.11.2008
William Gilmore Danes was born at 11:17 pm, November 10th, 2008. He was nineteen-and-a-half inches long, six pounds and eight ounces, and he was probably the most adored baby on the entire Earth.
After settling into the recovery room, Lorelai and Luke started letting people into the room. Emily and Richard came first to meet their second grandchild and only grandson. Richard was the one that cried, though Emily did come close. She also gave Luke what could be considered a bear hug.
Sookie didn't stay long and she didn't hold the baby. She was worried that with Davey already in school that it wouldn't be safe. She did call him sweeter than every dessert she'd ever made, but that was obvious to anyone with eyes.
Most everyone was coming in the morning, when they'd had a little bit of time. Rory joked that Kirk's next business venture would be shuttling people to the hospital to see the baby and Luke almost had a conniption before remembering it was a joke.
Rory, of course, got her chance to hold William. She noted that he had the same blue eyes as both of his parents the one time that she had him while he was awake.
Once Lorelai finally passed out and the room had cleared, Luke insisted Rory take a nap in the spousal bed. He was sat in the little chair by Lorelai's bedside so that he could hold his wife's hand while he stared down at William curled up in his arms.
Luke couldn't look at anything else.