Chapter XVIII
Dean isn't stupid. So he doesn't know why he's acting like such a moron. After Rory hung up on him, he considered calling her back, but found himself heading down the street to Lane Kim's home. His long legs carry him at a fast-paced walk that would easily outdo that punk's jog.
Dean isn't stupid. Jess has been into Rory since he got here a few months ago, and he knows he has a lot in common with her, all the things Dean doesn't really take interest in. But since when does 1% fluency in classic literature outweigh the sarcasm and disregard for regulation that makes up the 99%?
He sidesteps Ms. Patty, giving an excuse about what a rush he is in. He looks over to see the gazebo, site of the infamous basket contest. Where that arrogant jerk outbid him for Rory's company, food, and attention. 'Basket. Basket-maker. Guy who didn't bring enough money.' How could Rory still leave after he was insulted like that? Dean can lick his own wounds, but they went so much deeper when he had to watch her walk away. She was just rubbing in salt.
Dean isn't stupid. He can read a book. He can have a conversation about a newspaper article. He can listen to music from 20 years ago. But why would he? He's young. He can eat chips and play hockey and work at the grocery store and pass his classes with a C+. That should be enough. He doesn't have to genuinely enjoy Charles Dickens as much as basketball. He doesn't have to set up a fake crime scene and get on his knees with a piece of chalk to make his girlfriend smile. He shouldn't have to, at least.
But Dean isn't stupid. Rory likes Jess too. She has since he got in from the big city.
He stomps past Doose's, remembers the chalk outline that has since been washed away by the rain. He glares at the pole they rammed into, unharmed unlike his girlfriend. Unlike Jess too, as Rory feels the need to remind him. He wonders how long it took to get the car towed away from its embrace with the pole.
Why am I doing this? He thinks as he approaches the antique shop. Lane won't have answers for him. He has all the answers he needs. Rory is at another guy's bedside right now, as Dean is walking into her best friend's house. Why is he looking for even more confirmation of what he already knows? This must be what pure denial feels like. His own observations have surely given him enough evidence. At the diner. At the Bid-A-Basket. At the Town Meeting last night. Yet being the masochist he is, he sought confirmation in Lorelai, and her silence offered plenty. Her affirmation didn't light him on fire in a boiling fury as one would think. In fact, it was a iced depression, a chilly torment, a frost of frustration. It was the realization that he and Rory used to be active volcano that went cold. At the time, Dean thought maybe there was a way to get back to the way they were before. Dormant volcanoes don't always stay that way. An earthquake of renewed passion should do it. But the accident and all the burdens that came with it only proved to Dean that he was wishing on ashes and smoke. And she's in as much denial as he is.
"Lane!" he calls once he gets inside, and her mother quickly appears before him, snarling. "Oh, hi Mrs. Kim. Is Lane here?"
"10 minutes," she grumbles before disappearing behind stacks of tables, desks, and chairs. Lane emerges from the other side, carrying a vase in her arms.
"Dean, hey. What's up? Time's-a-ticking."
He finds himself at a loss for words. "I-I don't know. Do you know where Rory is?"
She tilts her head slightly. "Judging from your tone, you know where she is."
Dean just sighs, and Lane motions him with another tilt of her head down an aisle of furniture. As she puts the vase down, she tells him to sit in a soft recliner, popping the footrest up. Dean's feet shoot up suddenly as his torso falls backwards. Lane perches herself on a table next to him, thrusts a piece of gum into his hand.
"That's my last piece. I'm not supposed to chew gum, so appreciate it."
He nods in confusion, leans back into the recliner. One of the most comfortable chairs he's sat in, yet it fails to put him at ease. This must be where Lane goes to escape her mother and all the tension coming with it. He then says, "I'm sorry. I don't really know why I'm here."
"Yes, you do," she says. "The truth is that I don't know much. Only that Rory has been to the hospital several times since the accident. Condolences for the car, by the way."
"I don't care about the car anymore," he responds truthfully. "I'm just glad she's okay. I just… what do I do? Is it too late? She obviously likes Jess, and I've been feeling like the bad guy because I can't stand that."
Dean feels like he's in a therapy session with his reclined position and spoutings of feelings and inner thoughts. Lane answers like a counselor too, "And do you think Rory sees you that way? Rory likes you."
He'd heard that before. It was more comforting then than it is now. It was when Dean first started to suspect Rory's attraction to Jess. Dean thinks he understands - the bad boy vibe is appealing. But seeing as he has few female friends, he asked his younger sister Clara who replied that, based on her astute observation at Stars Hollow Junior High, it depends on the girl. Some girls like guys that take risks because they are too scared to take risks themselves, was the way she put it. He tried to be discreet and pretend he was asking for a friend, but Clara just smiled in her wise way and said "Rory likes you".
And Dean believes her, Clara and Lane. Rory does like him. But Dean isn't stupid. Rory does like him, but that doesn't mean she doesn't like Jess too.
He focuses on what she said first. "She definitely does. She sees Jess as the victim and me as the bad guy. And of course it's good Jess didn't get more hurt, but I'm not asking for much, you know? She's spending all her free time with him, and is it really that out of line to be upset about that? She knows I don't like her spending time with him, and when she did, he put both of them in the hospital."
As he ranted, Dean had risen up from his position, and Lane nudges him back down with a gentle touch to his shoulder. With a sigh, he begrudgingly leans back, causing a sigh to echo from the recliner. Lane plucks the piece of gum from his fist, now a crumpled foil sliver. As she tries to unwrap it, she says, "Jess is her friend. Think about it. You're friends with Lindsay Lister, right?"
"I guess…" Dean plays along.
Lane smacks on the gum. "You can say yes. It's alright to be dating someone and have friends of the opposite sex. So imagine if you and Lindsay went to get some ice cream and were in an accident. Obviously you would go see her in the hospital, right?"
Lindsay is Dean's friend, and he's told Rory that who immediately responded that Lindsay got her a Mark Twain magnet in the 4th grade. It evolved into a conversation about how long his girlfriend has been a 5th degree book nerd, and that was the end of it. But Lindsay isn't dangerous. Lindsay doesn't have feelings for Dean. She isn't trying to blindside anyone with her mysterious aura, black jeans, and city talk. She's an innocent, small-town girl who wears babydoll dresses and has nothing in common with Jess. But Dean knows his time is winding down to ask Lane's advice, so he nods. He would, after all.
"Okay. Thank you for humoring me. And if you knew Lindsay was leaving town, you'd want to spend time with her, right?"
Dean nods without hesitation this time. It isn't that bizarre, that is her point. It isn't bizarre for a friend to visit a friend in a hospital. It isn't bizarre for a friend to spend time with a friend that is leaving soon. The problem is that Jess and Rory could so easily be more than friends, and the only thing standing in their way is him. Dean pushes his hand through his hair that he forgot to comb. It resists his fingers. He'd been yanking at it while on the phone with Rory, and now it's angry at him. He thinks about how Jess's locks are fashioned a into a dark nest in which objects could probably get lost. He imagines Rory's fingers branching through the crunchy locks, sniffing the scent of the gel, her lips dangerously close to his face. Dean feels sick with jealousy. A random thought skims his brain. Is this how Jess feels seeing Rory with me? Oh, god. I did not just think that. He feels more nauseous than before.
Lane continues, "But this isn't just about the hospital visits."
"Answer my question," Dean whispers, trying to hold it all in. The truth is that he feels like a child with a stomachache who wants to cry. "Is it too late?"
Lane hesitates, leaves his question silently hanging. Tell me, Lane! He thinks. Is it too late to save what we have? How much is even left to save? After a few seconds pass, she matches his soft tone. "You're asking the wrong question to the wrong person."
"What's the right question?" he murmurs. "I don't know anything anymore."
She insists, "You know. Oh, boy. Here comes my mom."
In response to the footsteps, Dean rises from the recliner, the click of the footrest announcing Mrs. Kim's arrival around the corner. She declares, "10 minutes up. You, out. Lane has homework."
Dean nods, beginning a slow proceeding to exit, and whispers desperately behind him to Lane, "What's the right question?"
"Done!" her mother answers, putting her hand on Dean's arm with a surprisingly strong grip. She marches him towards the door, and he lacks the energy to resist much. She's a powerful lady, she is.
He looks over his shoulder at Lane, who trails behind them. Dean pleads with his eyes, feeling tears stinging at the back of them. He's felt like crying multiple times in the last few weeks, but they've never actually threatened to surface. Lane stares back in pity, mouthing silently, "You know."
Signs pass in bright green blurs with splotches of white. A blue one marks the hospital 'H', and Dean swerves to get off on the exit, earning himself a honk from the car he cut off. He clutches onto the steering wheel, his chest heaving up and down. Anxiety is flooding his system, and his body isn't prepared to handle it. Like a city facing torrential storms with infrastructure that doesn't filter out rainwater.
He turns into the hospital parking lot, finds a spot in the visitors' section. His legs carry him into the lobby. His mouth asks the receptionist for 'Jess Mariano'. His fingers open the door to the staircase. Before he even realizes it, Dean's brain finds himself in front of Jess's room, staring through the window slot of the door. The dim lighting from a television illuminates Jess and Rory inside. They're laughing at whatever is on the screen. A green cobra slithers up his spine. It's choking him. It's stealing the oxygen from his lungs and replacing it with a toxic green smoke. They are separated by the large bed, but her feet are tucked underneath the covers. Next to his. By his side.