Chapter XIX
"What the hell were you thinking?" Jess glares from his place in the center of the bed, though he knows the effect is lessened. He could see his reflection in the metal breakfast tray. Since he now gets silver platters and not beige cafeteria trays. He knows that he is ever-shrunken in front of the dark wooden backboard of the bed, a weak pirogue amidst a sea of sheets.
Rory stares back without a hint of surprise. She must have known how he would feel about this, but she didn't care. She was just waiting for him to realize what she'd done. She responds mechanically, and he is certain she planned it beforehand. "I was thinking that hospitals are expensive and that Luke could use some help."
"That wasn't your call," Jess asserts immediately.
She stands firm, not even putting down her bag. There isn't much time left before she has to go to school, but there is enough for both of them to say what they need to. "I would've done it with or without your permission."
Jess is not a fan of getting permission, but he wouldn't expect that from Rory. He scoffs. "You didn't even bother with Luke's permission. To hell with mine."
Rory tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and Jess reads it as a sign of her discomfort. She says quietly, "He would have said no."
The decline of her volume only leads to an increase in his. "As he should. His dignity is already in the gutter."
Your mother made sure of that. Jess doesn't have any reason to insult his uncle at the moment, but he has watched him bend over backwards for months to please a woman who doesn't know he exists. Luke would balance a rod on his head with two pots of coffee in each hand if he thought it would make Lorelai smile.
Rory seems to catch on, and sighs loudly. "Why can't you just say thank you?"
Jess reverts easily into the tone he takes with everyone who tries to force him in a certain direction. In New York, arguing with Liz. Outside their apartment, ripping apart another eviction notice in front of their landlord's eyes. On the sidewalk underneath, tearing into boyfriend #all. With Luke in the diner. With principal after principal. Now he is picking up the same weapons with Rory as he does with everyone else.
"Why can't you just ask me before starting a fundraiser in my name?" He tries out.
"Why are you acting like such a child?" She shoots back.
Jess is boiling by now. Maybe it's another fever, but mostly he is just angry. He has every person in this dumb town poking their noses into his business and his health and his life just like they poke their noses into everything. He used to drive cars that weren't his in alleyways he didn't recognize, speeding dramatically, while passing around cigarettes and bottles without labels. He used to live a loud life quietly. Now he lives a quiet life loudly. Everyone seems to know everything about him even though he scarcely opens his mouth. One fight at school. One stolen bridge fund. One dumb lawn accessory. [Besides, if the old garden gnome the townspeople called Taylor, and the actual gnome Jess called "the villain from the 1982 horror film 'Gardens of Gore'", had chains and locks like everybody in New York, this wouldn't have happened.] The people of Stars Hollow know about all of it and act as though a bank were robbed. A quiet life compared to the only one he knows, yet everybody is screaming his business from the rooftops. And the person he put the most faith in, the person he confided in just a little bit, is the person shouting the loudest.
"Why are you acting like a soccer mom having a bake sale?"
"You know I can't cook!"
"Maybe if you tried reading the recipe before just going for it!" Jess's chest protests the huge inhale he took to yell that at her.
"What is wrong with you?!" She screams. That is not the first time Rory has asked him that. In fact, she exclaimed it only a couple days ago, demanding to know why he didn't get help from the paramedics at the scene of the accident. As if she doesn't know by now that he doesn't ask for help.
"A lot, okay?! In case you haven't noticed!" He gestures wildly to his damaged form.
Pain throbs above his brow, and he tries to displace it by clenching his hands into fists. He's all too aware of his injured ankle, his cracked ribs, his pounding head. He could stay like this- broken. It's all he's ever known. Rory turned people's attention to this, made them pity him for it. He hates it. He would rather them think that he is a good-for-nothing, dangerous hoodlum off the streets than someone who they should pity. Sympathy never got Jess anywhere except for unused contact cards from Child Services and silent, uncomfortable visits to the school counselor. And occasionally free weed.
Flushed in her cheeks, she exclaims, "Jesus Christ, I was trying to help you!"
He's heard this before too, and not too long ago. "Well stop trying! I never asked you or Luke or anyone in this goddamn town for help, and I don't want it!"
There is a pause before she responds again, out of ammunition. Her blue eyes are large, pleading. "Please, Jess-"
"You went behind my back, Rory. I left my home, my friends, everything to come to a place I'm not welcome in. Can't you see I have nothing left now? At least before this stupid spectacle I had my pride. Now I don't even have that." He finishes in a weak whisper, addressing himself as much as he is her. What's left? A hollow shell in a hospital bed he couldn't imagine paying for. Closing his eyes again, he leans back against his pillow, his head protesting louder with every passing moment. Despite a search for the energy to lift his arm just to pinch the bridge of his nose, his efforts are in vain.
He opens his eyes when he hears the click of the door. Rory stands in the gap of the frame, halfway in and halfway out, looking over her shoulder with sad, wide blue eyes. Jess dares her then. Without a word spoken, he dares her to walk out on him. It'd be too easy. Being halfway in is the same as being halfway out. Just do it. Walk away. It's not like he hasn't gone through it before.
And she does. She walks out and closes the door behind her, the action sealed with another click.
But in the moments just before, she murmurs with her eyes glued to his, "That's not true, Jess. You have me."
Lorelai strides into Luke's Diner and almost collides with Kirk as he runs out the door. Luke follows close behind, shouting from the frame, "And stay out this time!"
He leaves it open for her before stomping back to the counter, Lorelai trailing behind him. He slams a coffee mug down on the counter, and the handle detaches in a clean break. Not a single porcelain shard disconnected otherwise. He glares at the handle for a moment, his breathing coming out swiftly, not quite a pant. It's a refrained, quick rise and fall of his chest. His fingers hang on to the lonely handle, and Lorelai just stares at it with him.
"Jess?" she asks.
Luke's jaw shifts. "His dipshit of a father."
"He's here?" Lorelai asks, her eyebrows shooting towards her hairline. Lorelai doesn't know anything about Jess's father, only that he isn't one. That he quit a long time before Liz did.
Luke shakes his head. He grabs another coffee mug from the shelf, setting it down with too much control. "No, he called, saying he heard about the accident. Liz told him. I will never understand that sister of mine."
Though Lorelai doesn't want to pry into Jess's or Luke's personal lives, she can see that Luke is like a glass filled with too much water, about to overflow. She reaches for her own mug before he can do the same to hers. She inquires calmly as she grabs the hot cup, "Where is he?"
"Far from here, thank god. California. He had the audacity to call him his son. Jess has never been his son. 6 hours does not count."
"Well technically-" Lorelai begins, but Luke's glare stops her. Instead, she goes, "And then what?"
"Nothing. He said he was in California and doing well. That he was glad Jess was okay and that I shouldn't tell him he called. One second." Luke retrieves a plate of eggs and toast from Caesar and drops it off at the table behind Lorelai. Quite a literal drop, as it makes a bang on the table. When he comes back, he says, "I don't even know why he bothered. What did he have to gain from that?"
"He got to know Jess is okay," Lorelai says. "Isn't that enough?"
Luke squeezes his white rag, but he had obviously gotten all the liquid out from previous stress twists. Not a single drop emerges. "Not for Jimmy. My sister and nephew were never enough for him."
A couple approaches the counter, both requesting coffee to go before retreating to the other end of the counter. Lorelai sets down her own half-empty cup as Luke retrieves some to-go with lids. "I'm sorry you're upset, Luke, but I don't really see the big deal. I told you before. This is about you and Jess. One phone call -"
"Exactly! This is about me." Luke interrupts, jabbing his finger at his own chest, shaking the coffee pot that is in his other hand with the force of the motion. The coffee sloshes up the sides, but does not quite make its escape. "This is about me not going back to New York after he was born. This is about me asking Jess to do things he doesn't understand because I wasn't there to teach him."
Luke is pouring the coffee so slowly with such a tight grip that the cups aren't full until he finishes speaking. Lorelai glances down the counter at the impatient couple, and Luke carries them down and checks them out. When he returns, Lorelai knows he won't catch the reference, but she sounds even more serious than she intended.
"You're not his father, Luke."
He responds immediately, "Jimmy was never there for him. I could have stepped in more, but I didn't. I could have asked Liz to send Jess here some as a kid, and maybe he wouldn't hate it here so much, but I didn't. I was scared of all that, and I was mad at Liz for leaving and getting knocked up. But I shouldn't have taken it out on her son."
Tale as old as time, Lorelai thinks. She can see herself now, balancing Rory on her hip, her other arm tossing clothes into a box. Everyone at school judging her. Her parents angry at her. Christopher in a swollen state of grief yet relief. Leaving Hartford, finding Stars Hollow. Starting over. On her own.
As Lorelai is staring down into her black abyss of coffee, Luke jolts and says, "Jeez, I'm sorry. You know I'm not-"
She cuts him off. "I know. It wasn't the same. Liz went 9 months and 6 hours thinking she wasn't doing this alone. It's not the same."
"She shouldn't have been alone. That punk Jimmy-"
"It's been 16 years, why are you thinking about all of this now? It can't change anything."
As soon as the words leave her mouth, Lorelai knows she is wrong. She thinks of posing with her mother at the fashion show she held at the Inn, in those ridiculous red outfits for the Chilton Booster Club. She remembers how much effort her father put into helping Rory and her group with their project. They are overwhelming, arrogant, petty, and frustrating, but they care about Rory and being in her life. They made their entrance 16 years late, but at least they don't have any intention of walking in then going back out. She thinks about Christopher, about how he's gotten his act together, about showing up for Rory when she needed him at the ball, after the accident. It's not too late for Luke either, as long as he shows Jess he is there to stay. The problem is that Jess is much less receptive to people than Rory. But the more Lorelai hears Luke's venting on Jess's past, the more she supposes it's because people have hurt him more than they have her little girl.
Luke adjusts his hat. "Because. I realized that I care about my nephew. And I could have made things easier for him, but I didn't."
Lorelai sighs. "You were just a kid then too. Cut yourself some slack. Are you going to tell Jess he called?"
"No. He said not to, and I don't want to rub in salt."
"That's fair. Thanks for telling me all of this." Lorelai finishes off the last of the dark brown liquid in her mug. She won't pity Jess any more than she already has. Not about this uncovered sector of his past. She wouldn't want it if she were in his shoes. But she'll remember it. After 6 hours, his own father decided he wasn't good enough to be in his life. After 1, Lorelai thought he didn't belong in hers. But Luke nor Rory ever made that call. So she will remember it, the next time she decides he isn't good enough to be in theirs.
"Why? The kid would kill me if he knew I was spouting his life story." Seeming to realize it himself only as the words are said, Luke rubs a hand over his face and across his tired eyes.
Lorelai smiles. "No, not that. I'm not about to call for a sharing circle. I'm just glad that I can be a person that you trust."
"Yeah, well, I do. Trust you, I mean. I can't believe anyone else has good intentions right now."
Lorelai pushes her cup forward for a refill. "Do you want to make a trade?"
"Coffee in exchange for what?" Luke asks, not making a move to grab the pot.
"I will tear Taylor's list in his face if you give me a stamp. And also coffee."
Luke is already reaching for the pot. He's given up completely on convincing her to abandon her ways, it seems. "You don't have a stamp? What are you mailing?"
Lorelai watches the coffee fill the cup to the brim, at Luke's usual pace. "An invitation to something."
"Yeah, I should have one near the register. Party?" He asks over his shoulder as he replaces the pot and looks for a new rag.
"Uh, graduation ceremony. Mine."
Luke turns and blinks, and with a delayed reaction, covers, "Right. Congratulations. I'm sorry, it slipped my mind."
With all Luke has been handling lately, Lorelai is surprised his brain hasn't turned into an icy slope. And only the things with spikes and hooks, the things that hurt, have been hanging on.
"Yeah, no big deal," she says, even though this is one of the hugest things that has happened to her in a long time. It makes her more into the model she wants to be for her daughter. "Um… would you like to come?"
Lorelai reaches into her purse, her fingers nervously fluttering around in its contents. The words were unexpected, and her hands were searching before her brain realized that she'd said them. It isn't that she doesn't want Luke there, of course, but a mere few days ago, they'd been yelling at each other in the street. Or rather, she was attacking him, and he was defending himself. And now she's inviting him to her graduation. Though honestly, if she's comfortable with inviting Christopher- who's flaked on her several times, she can admit- why shouldn't she ask Luke, who refuses to let down the people he cares about? As she slides the invitation across the counter to him, she's reminded of how she slid Rory's $500 across to him two days ago. He picks it up, reads over the letters inscribed in simple green font. Lorelai watches as a genuine smile emerges, closed-lipped yet genuine. Not a hint of joking or sarcasm. He's proud of her. And just knowing that, Lorelai feels… clarity. It's like she had this mist in her brain, a fog blurring her vision. But Lorelai sees Luke's smile, and even though she can't distinguish her thoughts from her emotions, everything makes sense.