Monday, 2.09.09
Last time she was laying in the spare room previously known as the home office, Rory hadn't noticed the ceiling. Her bedroom at home in Stars Hollow had a popcorn ceiling, the kind that had the drips of paint dried in. When she was younger, she'd pretended that it was a vast mountain range and that her plane went down, stranding her there to survive as a hermit. Sometimes her mother would join her and describe how she would reinvent indoor plumbing and air conditioning, because what was the point of living without modern amenities?
Jess's ceiling was swirly, like someone tried to smooth it out but gave up. Or maybe they just liked the streaky petaly pattern.
Normally there was no reason for Rory to care about the ceiling. There was no reason for anyone to care about the ceiling beside maybe the person who gave up smoothing it. But, for the last twenty... three minutes, Rory had been staring at the ceiling. She'd woken up before her alarm, something on the street having roused her. She might have gotten up when she opened her eyes, but she heard the shower going and she didn't know if Jess went to his bedroom to dress or if he dressed in the bathroom. The immediate train of thought that branched off of that was that she wouldn't really mind seeing him shuffled across the hallways with a towel around his waist, but again she chalked that up to the gesture he'd made to her.
Thanks to Jess Mariano, she had a made up bedroom on her first night in Philadelphia. Clean sheets that smelled a little bit like pine trees and something floral, an obviously new and very fluffy pillow, and more shelf space than she'd ever had at home. Rory sat up in her bed and looked straight ahead at the french doors, currently covered by dark grey curtains, and listened hard, unsure whether she'd heard Jess leave the bathroom. She'd give it another minute or so.
While she waited, she slipped her feet out from the sheets and planted them on the chilly wood floor, noting that she had to buy slippers. Though, she might have carpeting in her new apartment...
Rory lifted a suitcase up onto the arm chair in the corner, unzipping it and pulling out the outfit she'd come up with as her 'first day as a real-life adult' outfit. A pair of tan slacks, a mermaid green blouse, and a cardigan over it, that way she seemed professional and comfortable at the same time. Her mother had vetoed the blazer, saying that it seemed like she was trying too hard.
A clinking of plates and the sound of a cupboard door alerted Rory to the fact that Jess was now in the kitchen. She took the time to roll her outfit into her towel, not wanting to forget one or the other. While she might understand the kitchy interest in seeing a damp Jess, she knew that it wasn't anywhere near appropriate to walk through his home with just a towel.
Her Id's renewed interest in Jess was irritating to Rory.
The afternoon before, Rory had been tired and a little bit grouchy from traveling. The food she had in the airport did nothing to fill her up after just an hour of activity and she was over-stressed about everything that she had coming up in the next 24 hours. She had been comparing Jess's apartment to a lighthouse in a storm wrecked harbor, the only stability she had for the foreseeable future. Even if he had gotten rid of the surprisingly comfortable pull-out bed, an air mattress was enough to make even Lorelai the second offer words of praise. They were sparse, but still existing. She was already ready to heap 'thank you's and 'how can I help's onto Jess, hoping to be as little of an inconvenience as possible while she slept by his desk. When she'd seen the way he'd made the spare room up for her, pushing it off as something that he'd meant to do anyway... she felt a rush of familiar affection for him. If she'd been more tired or less composed, she might have kissed him.
That feeling, having been immediately bound, locked, and buried so that she could continue looking Jess in the eye while they rushed to see the Liberty Bell, came back with a horrible vengeance while she was trying to go to sleep. It didn't help that even her pillows smelled like him.
For some time, she was laid there with her eyes squeezed close in an attempt to block out the thoughts that flew to her. He'd made space for her in his life so easily and seamlessly that she wondered whether he had any sort of feelings for her, anything that had persisted even after what she'd done to him at his open house; when she attempted to use him in such a way that made her ill to remember. She gently brushed her lips with her fingertips, remembering how comfortable it had been to kiss him again. That comfort had been comparable to the feeling you get when you read the last page of a long novel, knowing that perhaps everything won't be okay in the future but that it is in that final moment. Standing at the bottom of the long metal staircase, her eyes blurred by tears... Next in her slideshow of fond torture was all of the times they had spent nights in, watching movies and debating plot structure and character development while they tossed popcorn across the couch and stole sips from each other's drinks. After that, the way it had felt when he left to New York, how it felt when she found that he'd come back, and then when he'd left again for the last time. All of the things that he'd done for her and rarely taken credit for; the snow sculpture, the video store, the bid-a-basket, the umbrella, the care package, the sprinklers, the winter carnival, the dinner with her grandparents, the offer to run away together. Eventually the avalanche of memories had pushed her into a deep and dreamless sleep only to continue once she woke up.
Before she'd turned her attention to the ceiling paint, Rory was being haunted by the echo of Jess's voice. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Then, the sound of his footsteps. His car door slamming shut. His engine turning over.
Her chest ached bitterly.
She thought she knew that this resurgence of emotions was down to the fact that, once again, he had done something unbelievably thoughtful.
When Rory had gotten the courage to ask him why he'd done it, Jess's explanation was that he had been meaning to switch around the room for a while. He'd mentioned that T.J. had whined about feeling the springs of his pull-out mattress. Accepting that would have been easy had Jess been able to meet her eyes.
Maybe the entire idea was stupid. Rory couldn't have been in her right mind when she decided to take up residence down the hall from someone she had, at one point, been sure she would lost her virginity to. She was always aware that it might be weird to stay with him, considering their relationship history, but she had justified the decision by reminding herself that the two of them had made strides toward being friends. The fond feelings that she still held for their past relationship were hanging on to color her impression of the current one, something she could pretend to blame on a younger version of herself. That young-Rory still existed in memories and she didn't want to let go of the first person that she felt truly understood what she expected from her future. That Rory was still holding on.
Roused by her alarm, Rory got up and made her bed. She said a groggy good morning to Jess on her way to the bathroom, happy to be on her way to her first real writing job. Once she was showered, dressed, and made up, Rory returned to the living room with a smile in her face that hid any sort of flip-flopping that her stomach might have done.
Jess was standing over his desk, sorting through a folder, when she set eyes on him.
"Are you headed out?" Rory asked, opening the door to the guest room and picking her purse and work bag off of the ground inside.
"Yeah, yeah. Do you need a ride?" Jess asked, turning to look at her through the open door.
"No, I'll be alright. I want to get coffee on my way in, I figure that it'll be good to find my way on the first day," Rory nodded, slipping into her jacket.
"Alright, sounds good. There's some coffee left if you want any of that for the trip," Jess nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Your key is on the counter, I'll be home around six."
"See you then," Rory said, crossing to the kitchen to take advantage of whatever coffee dregs were left.
"See you," Jess waved, heading to the door and shutting it behind him.
Left in the quiet of the apartment, Rory thought maybe she'd overreacted. The ghost of what was between them wasn't going to be allowed to get in between a real friendship that could exist. That did exist.
Just as she'd set her newly-cleaned coffee mug into the dish drainer, her purse started buzzing from the counter. Without bothering to check who it was, Rory sandwiched the phone between her shoulder and her ear, picking up the apartment key and shuffling it onto her own key ring.
"Hello?" She said, focused on the struggle to wiggle the key into place.
"Hey, Ace!"
Rita sure did talk fast.
Within twenty minutes of arriving, Rory had already written three pages worth of notes and completed her tour of the offices complete with the people that she needed to remember the names of. She planned on taking a picture of the fire escape poster and then making her own reference map for future reference.
She was being placed in an empty desk in the bullpen, one of four desks in the square. On her right was a pale man in his thirties with an ill-fitted moustache and thick glasses. The left was a guy about her age, so tall that he looked cramped in his desk and aware enough of what came with that that he had a sign on his desk that read 'no, I don't play basketball and yes, the weather is fine'. Liam and Jerry, respectively. Kitty corner from her desk was a woman with severe looking dark green eyes and a pair of neon green headphones. She didn't catch her name, it was said too quickly and Rory didn't think it would be wise to interrupt her work.
After being introduced to Tonya, the woman that was so pregnant it looked like she might actually pop, Rory was returned to her empty desk, deposited, and told that she would be brought into a pitch meeting in an hour to talk about ideas for her second piece, her first being her interview article.
The first thing she did at her cool new adult desk with her cool new adult desk phone was call her mother. Obviously.
"Hello? Jeanne Cummings?" Lorelai answered, probably from the front desk of the Dragonfly judging by the time of day.
"Jeanne Cummings? Since when are you expecting a call from Jeanne Cummings?"
"Sorry, you sound like Jeanne Cummings. Is this Maureen Dowd?"
"You know Maureen Dowd?"
"Maureen and I are pen pals, yes. If you're not Jeanne-y and you're not Maureen-y, then you must be Jane Mayer."
"Alright," Rory laughed. "What alphabetical list are we reading from?"
"Fifty Top Journalists of 2008," Lorelai replied, "There's a lot of male space between the women. That bit couldn't have gone on all that much longer."
"What a pity," Rory rolled her eyes, sandwiching the phone between her shoulder and her ear so that she could start unpacking her things. "Someone should really do something about it."
"The ratio should at least be a little bit better for 2009, seeing as you'll be in the pool."
"I think that the list might be limited to investigative journalism," Rory pointed out, flipping through her list of ideas. She had a handful of ideas, all with comically long titles that had all together too many movie references. "Books are Better When the World Offers the Same Sense of Satisfaction as the End of The Matrix Revolutions", while accurate, does not actually remind her of what she meant to write about.
"Confidence is key! Fake it 'til you make it!"
"Now you're just reusing the cheers that you used after my second interview," Rory pointed out.
"Yeah, well it's not my fault that you need all this reassurance," Lorelai teased, "Your mother should have raised you better."
"I'll tell her you said that," Rory chuckled, taking her newer pad of paper and titling the top sheet 'ideas for the future'.
"Do, do," Lorelai agreed, taking a breath before she continued, "How's everything going? Are the other kids throwing things and laughing yet?"
"Yet? That doesn't breed much faith," Rory commented.
"You are a total noob."
"A noob, huh? Well, I've yet to see anything fly toward me or my desk. I'll keep you updated, though."
"Your desk?"
"My desk," Rory confirmed, grinning.
"Oooh! Send pictures! Post cards! Send me a miniature replica with a to-scale Rory so that I can pretend that I saw it in person!"
"You can see it in person when you come to Philly."
"You don't want to bring your Mommy to work, do you?"
"Just because you wouldn't doesn't mean I wouldn't. I'd even bring your mom to work."
"You might not have a choice."
"What does that mean?" Rory asked, wrinkling her brow.
"I've recently been told that the Gilmores plan on furnishing your new apartment, Hon."
"They already furnished my apartment," Rory said, remembering all the living room furniture they'd bought for her college dorm and then again for the pool house.
"Yes, but that was old Rory's furniture. This is new adult-Rory's apartment and it requires new adult-Rory furniture," Lorelai explained.
"Adult-Rory can re-use furniture. That's the point of sending the U-Haul down here when I'm all set up."
"Yes," Lorelai agreed. "The U-Haul is coming, but it seems that the Gilmores plan on coming with it so that they can see what would fit well in your space."
"When is this supposed to happen?"
"I imagine the caravan is going to be coming with the rest of your things."
Rory set down her pen and leaned back in her chair, chewing on the skin of her cheek while she wondered how to relay what she was thinking.
"Kid? You still there?"
"Yeah, I'm here," Rory replied. "I just was wondering if you could delay the caravan for a few weeks?"
"I can try, but it would work better with an easily explainable reason," Lorelai said.
Rory's mind could really only come up with: I'm currently staying with Jess in his spare bedroom that he all-but-definitely only set up for my sake and I'm not sure how long it's going to take to move out, so I'd rather not subject him to the scrutiny of the grandparents. But seeing as I'm not over-motivated by the fact that I'm sleeping on an air mattress, I have the ability to be pickier about where I choose to live. Plus, I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I don't want to leave the guest room that is making me nervous because I'm not sure if it's because the convenience of the spot, the fact that she's glad to have a roommate she knows and is comfortable with, or because that roommate is specifically Jess.
Her mother never liked Jess.
"I'd like to present myself as a fully put-together adult. I need to find an apartment and move in before I can manage any of that to the satisfaction of one Emily Gilmore."
"These are all fair points," Lorelai agreed. "I'll tell her that you're too busy with work and that you want to settle in, though. They've already subscribed to the Inquirer and are eagerly awaiting your first printed column; they wouldn't want to interfere with your work."
"That's probably better, yes..." She grabbed her pen again and scooted closer to the desk. "I've got to get back to work."
"Alright, Rory. Call me when you get out and tell me how it all went okay?"
"Okay. Say hi to Luke and Will and Lane and Sookie and Michel and Kirk for me. And anyone else I'm forgetting right now."
"Will do. Go get 'em!"
"I'll try. Bye, Mom."
"Bye."
Wednesday, 2.18.09
Death, it seemed, would not be lightening fast. It would be a slow degeneration. Less of a march toward the end and more of a gentle lazy river type of trip toward nothingness.
That's where Rory imagined herself, her legs kicked over an inflatable swimming ring while wearing her new bathing suit - the one Emily insisted she needed despite the fact that Philadelphia is not tropical compared to Connecticut - and holding a mixed drink that had an umbrella and had a brightly colored straw that matched the liquor. She also had a floppy hat that matched her Jackie Kennedy sunglasses.
This incredibly detailed imagining, which was currently drawn on a bright pink post-it, was her attempt at passing the time while stuck in the depths of writer's block. Her first article, the one she'd written for her interview, was posted on the online Sunday edition of the Inquirer under the finalized title 'The Blood of the Revolution Will Always be Young'. A little heavy for her taste, but she figured that it was more eye catching that way.
The next week, she would be published in an honest to god paper newspaper, the way of the dinosaurs. That article was finished and it discussed the way young women were starting to claim the urban fantasy and scifi genres, the idea of which started with Mary Shelley and Frankenstein in the first place. That was written and being sent through its final round of editing, leaving Rory to fish through suggested topics and local events for some burst of inspiration. How could she already be burnt out when her words hadn't even reached print?
Five o'clock arrived with the attitude of a guest that knew they were late but still expected you to be excited about their arrival, meanwhile your hair was up in curlers and your bra was hanging on the doorknob in the bathroom. That is to say, by the time it got there Rory was less happy than she was aggrieved that it had taken so long. She gathered her things said goodbye to her desk neighbors, Jerry tending to stay far later than anyone else because of the unbelievable volume of his roommates.
The elevator ride down to the lobby was slower than it ever had been, the music coming from some Oldie's playlist, though it was too garbled to be able to really recognize the song playing. It all made her feel far too sluggish for the amount of inactivity she'd been taking part in.
Her phone buzzed in her purse.
Frustrated by her unproductive day and sure that she would get more than a text in case of emergency, Rory let it be. She was already bundled and she'd have to remove her gloves to respond.
Another buzz. And again.
Maybe Kirk was finally going through with the proposal. It'd been long enough that the originally agreed upon plan was scrapped and re-written. The last update had been concerning Cat Kirk's training for the flash mob and she hadn't gotten enough detail to really understood what that meant.
Rory forced herself to keep moving, stepping into the slush of late February waiting for her outside. She was motivated to step faster on her way to her car, depositing her purse in the passenger seat once she was inside and fishing out her cellphone to check what the buzzing was about.
[from Jess]: Do you want to go out to dinner tonight?
[from Jess]: There's a weird restaurant I found- made me think of you.
[from Jess]: Plus we can do the pro/con thing with the apartments?
Rory caught herself smiling in her rear view mirror, schooling her face into a mask of impassivity - as though that changed the gentle swell of excitement she'd felt when she read that he'd thought of her. She'd like to go to dinner, but she still had planning she had to finish, she had to call her mother and her grandmother, and she had laundry to do. All of those reasons were in addition to the fact that she knew full well that she shouldn't put herself in the position to cross any lines.
Jess Mariano would always be a part of her life, he was Luke's nephew and William's cousin. There was no way to avoid him. Because of this there was no more room for mistakes in their relationship, if she let old memories of big feelings overtake her logic, then she would be dooming them to holidays full of carefully planned avoidance. It wasn't worth it, especially not when they had such potential to be friends.
[to Jess]: I thought you had to stay late and work?
[from Jess]: I do, but I'm being dragged out to dinner anyway by a few coworkers. I figured I would invite you to join? There won't be too many of us - probably about five total.
Was it odd that her skin tingled with relief when she realized they wouldn't be alone? They'd spent most nights that week alone together in the apartment, watching something mindless and sharing a blanket. Just the night before she'd been forcing her feet under him while he sat, much to his displeasure, excusing the action because the journey to go find herself socks would cause her to lose both feet to frostbite before she even got to her room. Perhaps the setting of a restaurant was what made her nervous. To go out together, alone, would be to put themselves in a situation where the only thing there was to focus on was each other.
She didn't even think that they went to a restaurant together when they were actually together. Not unless Luke's counted.
[to Jess]: Yeah, I'll come. When are you guys going?
[from Jess]: When you get here.
[to Jess]: Is it a nice restaurant? Should I change?
[from Jess]: Not if you're still wearing the stripey sweater.
She was still wearing the stripey sweater.
[to Jess]: I'll see you soon.
Her cellphone safely back in her purse, she started up the engine and pulled out of her spot. Instead of allowing herself to second guess anything, she turned the radio up loud enough for people to hear her coming and she ignored the logical choice that she might eventually have to confront what she was trying to ignore.
It turns out, that choice was incredibly effective. Even letting herself into the offices of Truncheon, she still managed to keep her mind off of things like being haunted by the ghost of a familiar love she had declared the end of years ago.
"I mean, it really did just hit me. I've never heard the end of the joke. I've heard the beginning over and over: 'There once was a man from Nantucket', but I mean... what's the end?"
Rory muffled a laugh while she stepped over the thresh hold and into the main office, looking across the room to see Jess perched on the edge of his desk and tossing a ball of paper back and forth with a sweater vest wearing guy across the room. Upon noticing her Jess waved, the brief moment of distraction allowing Sweater Vest to bounce the paper ball off of his shoulder.
"Rory, hey," He said, turning to grab his jacket off the desk chair behind him. "Are you ready to go?"
"Hold it, hot shot," A girl said, dramatically turning her chair to survey Rory with the energy one should come to expect from a Bond villain. Her eyebrows were flawless and arched with the same nefarious quality. "Who's this?"
"Leave her alone, Gen," Jess groaned, weaving through the desks to stand by Rory. "You'll have time to interrogate her at dinner."
"I just wanted to introduce myself," Gen pouted, standing to gather her things like the others that were apparently coming to dinner.
"You wanted to embarrass me," Jess corrected.
"Well, a two for one deal is nothing to thumb your nose at," She shrugged, stepping up to Rory with a hand outstretched. "I'm Gen."
"I've heard about you," Rory offered, shaking Gen's hand while she shot a look at Jess. "I'm Rory."
"Well, Rory. I haven't heard much at all about you, but I guess that'll change now," She and Jess shared wry smiles. "I call shotgun in Rory's car," she called loudly, moving toward the door.
Rory heard a muffled 'dammit' from one of the three guys that were shuffling after Gen to get outside. Rory's bemusement must have been more obvious than she'd thought, judging by the quiet laugh it pulled out of Jess.
"Don't worry about them. They think they're in one of those 'Look Who's Coming to Dinner' stories," he explained, ushering her back out the door she'd just entered. "You don't have to drive if you don't want people in your car, I'm happy to fall on that sword."
"I'm alright with driving," Rory shrugged, stepping out onto the metal staircase while Jess turned out the lights and locked up behind them. "I just don't think everyone'll fit inside."
"Matt will want to take his own car. It's still shiny and new."
They took the metal stairs together, descending into the chattering group at the bottom. Jess's prediction was right, Matt was the only one not claiming a spot in her relatively small car. Thanking god she'd stuffed her work things into the trunk, Rory watched Chris, Louis, and Jess squish into her backseat before buckling in herself.
During that time, Gen had taken the liberty of sorting through her CD sleeve.
"You guys listen to a lot of the same stuff," she said, not bothering to look up at Rory while she did so.
"He bought me some of those CDs," Rory shrugged, backing out of her parking space to follow Matthew's car.
"Yeah?" The tone of Gen's voice almost made Rory want to backtrack, say she'd remembered wrong. It was like she knew Rory'd been second guessing the state of their relationship just by value of having those CDs.
"It was a long time ago. I just take good care of my stuff," She said quickly, flicking the radio on to whatever CD was already in the radio. It turned out to be a mix CD she'd made herself, 'Mood: Sarah Connor", that she liked to play before work. It made her coffee work a little better, she thought.
Dinner was less stressful than she'd have thought, given the original meeting in the office. While everyone in the group took turns tossing well-meant digs at Jess, implying that he was a Casanova or the bad boy of the Philadelphia publishing circles, it was clear that they were tightly knit. While she was by no means inducted into their friend group, she definitely felt welcomed. There were still inside jokes she wasn't privy to, shop talk that she didn't completely understand, and characters in stories that she couldn't identify. The whole night served to hammer home the idea that, not only had Jess grown up, but he'd made a life for himself.
Aside from the more complicated feelings of infatuation and attraction, things that she was only half sure were just echoes of the past, she felt proud. The boy that had left Stars Hollow, had left her, and never called? He was in pain. Jess never really got into all the details of how he felt about his childhood, but it was clear that he never felt loved the way Rory knew Lorelai loved her. Luke was well intentioned but misguided in his approach to solving such a complicated issue, something that only allowed for Jess to spiral out. The french-fry-thief-karate-chopping-straw-paper-shooting guy sat directly to her left was at the very least content. Rory had seen Jess happy, sure. Their entire relationship would have been much sadder in retrospect if she hadn't, really. Now he was content with himself, how his life was turning out.
She didn't completely grasp it at that moment, but the unidentifiable feeling swelling just behind her pride was forgiveness. Forgiveness for leaving her and never calling, for saying he loved her and disappearing for the night yet again, and then for showing up and begging her to run away with him... She started to actually forgive him for the tears he'd caused to fall.
All those bad decisions, all the flailing mistakes, they were done by a kid that was in way over his head. Without that kid making those choices, she wouldn't be sat next to the man that was trying to steal yet another of her fries.
She swatted his hand away again and answered Louis's question.
"I'd love to go with you. I needed to find something to write about this weekend anyway, why shouldn't be modern Shakespeare?"