Chapter 5
"How much more can one person study?" "Remind me to tell you the deer story sometime."
Chapter 5: Confrontations
"Stop it."
"I haven't said a word!" Marty said innocently, grinning down at Rory.
"I know what you're thinking, and it's not funny."
" 'Excuse me, Professor,' " Marty said in a high pitched voice, " 'I was just wondering if these scores were going to be curved, because this B plus I have on my test sheet here is simply unacceptable.' "
"I didn't say that!" He shot her a 'yeah, right' look and she sheepishly admitted, "well, I didn't say the last part. And it's not like everyone else wasn't thinking it." Together they walked outside into the crisp fall afternoon, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came after the last class of the day . The sun shone brightly through the trees, but Rory could feel the slightest hint of a chill coming on. It's definitely October, she thought, realizing with a start that her birthday was only two weeks away.
"Hey, I'm perfectly fine with my B. Sure, my mother will give me her patented 'there's no reason you should be making less than A's in everything' speech, but there's nothing she can really do about it, is there?" He lightly tapped the test paper she still held in her hand. "You should be proud of this."
"I get what you're saying, it's just...it's different for me." How could she explain that grades were sometimes all she had? When everything else was insane, she could count on the stability of learning and studying and test-taking. School was the one thing in her life that was within her control. Not wanting to sound like a book nerd, she said, "my grandparents are paying for me to go to Yale. I guess I just want to make them proud."
"I bet they're already pretty proud of you."
"Thanks." She sighed. "It'll be OK, I'll just have to study more for the next one."
"Study more? You've spent the past week locked in your room, coming out only for the occasional meal and class. How much more can one person study?"
Rory snickered. "Remind me to tell you the deer story sometime."
"Ooh-kay," he said, a confused smile on his face. "So," he said mischeviously, "your grandparents are loaded?"
"Marty!" Rory said, smacking him on the arm.
"What? I was just wondering if they'd be willing to adopt a new grandson. I'm very well mannered."
They joked back and forth as they walked to their dorm. With a promise to meet up for dinner later that night, they separated at the staircase, Marty bounding up the stairs. Shaking her head at the goofiness of her friend, Rory walked to her room and unlocked the door. Swinging the door open, her head snapped up when she heard a familiar voice say "Hey, Rory."
Luke was sitting on her couch, his baseball cap in his hands. She saw his fingers fiddling nervously with the brim.
"Luke. What are you doing here?"
"Paris let me in," he said, gesturing with one hand to Paris and Rory's closed bedroom door. "Hope that's OK."
"It's fine," she replied, dumping her bag and jacket on the other end of the couch. "Uh, can I get you anything? We have water and...water."
"No, I'm good." He exhaled a nervous breath. "Maybe I should just tell you why I'm here."
Rory's face paled as she sank onto the couch. "Oh, God, is it Mom? Is she alright?"
"No, no, she's fine," he assured her. "Physically, at least."
"What do you mean?"
"Emotionally, she's kind of a wreck, and I can't really blame her."
Rory leaned back and crossed her arms. "So you're here to play intervention, I take it."
"Maybe I am," he shot back. "Because I care about your mom and I hate seeing her like this. I know you've got stuff going on that you'd rather not talk about."
"Didn't Mom already tell you everything?" Rory said bitterly.
"No, she didn't. She wouldn't betray your trust like that." Luke sighed. "Look, I know it's different, me being with your mom. It's been just the two of you pretty much your whole life. I'm not trying to horn in on that. I'm not trying to play your father."
"So then why are you here?" she replied, knowing her tone of voice was rude but not caring.
"I'm here because of the stupid movie."
"What?"
"We were watching some movie the other day, I don't know, Steel Carnations or something like that--"
"Magnolias," she said quietly. Steel Magnolias was one of her and Lorelai's favorite "pyjamas and ice cream" movies.
"Right. We were watching this movie, and about halfway through she started bawling and I couldn't get her to stop. She just kept crying and saying something about how Julia Roberts still needed her mommy even though she was all grown up and why couldn't everyone be like that?"
Rory shifted uncomfortably.
"You're pushing her away, and it hurts. It hurts me to see her cry and not be able to do anything about it. She always knew you'd have your own life, but she never expected to lose you, not really."
Rory jumped up, suddenly unable to sit side by side with him while he was saying all this. She crossed the room to the minifridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Gripping it in her hands, she said quietly, "you didn't see the way she looked at me that night."
"The test run."
"She looked so disappointed. Every time I think about calling her, I see that look in my mind. It hurts, and I want to stop it, but I don't know how. I've never had a problem that couldn't be fixed by running to Mommy. So to be honest, I'm kind of freaking out here and my head hurts and I really want to be alone, if you don't mind." She said all that in one rushed breath. She knew she was about to start crying and she didn't want to do it in front of Luke. Squeezing her eyes shut, she heard him rise from the couch and cross to the door.
"You're more like your mom than you think," was all he said before he left.
"Story of my life," she whispered as the door shut. Feeling the chill in her hands, she looked down at the water bottle she still held. As if on autopilot, she leaned down and placed it back in the fridge, letting the door slam shut. She wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes, willing the tremors that shook her body to stop. She had chapters to read, articles to write, and no time for a breakdown. She could do this, she just needed a minute.
"Rory?" she heard Paris ask hesitantly - Since when is Paris hesitant about anything?, she wondered.
"That was my mom's boyfriend," Rory said woodenly, lifting her gaze from the hardwood floor to meet Paris's eyes.
"Yeah, he said that. Everything OK?"
Unable to keep the tear from sliding down her cheek, Rory slowly shook her head.
"Um, I'm not very good at personal stuff, you know that. But I'm here if you want to talk."
To her own horror, Rory's shoulders began to shake with sobs as the tears fell faster.
"Hey," Paris said, quickly walking to where Rory stood. "Come sit down." She put her arm across Rory's back and led her to the sofa. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"My mom," Rory choked out.
"Is she alright?"
All Rory could do was nod. Her throat was too tight with tears to speak. Without thinking, she leaned her head on Paris's shoulder, hiccuping with sobs.
"Shh, Rory, it'll be OK."
"No, it won't," Rory cried. She heard their door creak open.
"Is she ok?" Sarah, their suitemate, asked Paris.
"I don't know," Rory heard Paris reply. "Listen, can you do me a favor? Find her friend, Marty something. He lives up on the third floor." Sarah must have agreed, because Rory heard the door shut quietly.
"C'mere." Paris grabbed a throw pillow and placed it on her lap, motioning for Rory to lie down. Rory put her head on the pillow, feeling Paris smooth her hair away from her forehead. The action was so like Lorelai, it made Rory burst into a fresh wave of tears. "Shh," was all Paris said, running her hand through Rory's hair.
Wrapped up as she was in her own misery, Rory didn't hear Marty enter. She didn't know he was there until he kneeled down beside the couch and touched her shoulder.
"Hey," he said quietly.
She sniffled. "Hi."
"Sooo, you were fine forty-five minutes ago. What happened?" He looked up to Paris for explanation.
"She talked to this guy. Luke, he's her mom's boyfriend. I came out here, he was gone, and she was crying."
"Thanks for having Sarah come get me," he said. Focusing his attention back on Rory, Marty said firmly, "Rory, you have to stop doing this to yourself. This whole thing has stressed you out past your breaking point." Gentling his voice slightly, he continued. "You have to talk to her."
"I can't," she replied miserably, sniffling back some of her tears.
"Yeah, you can. What are you afraid of, that she won't forgive you? That she loves you any less than she always has?" Rory shook her head, knowing that was untrue. "Or maybe that she's already forgiven you, and you don't think you deserve it. I'm right, aren't I." It wasn't a question, and Rory's muddled brain still managed to wonder how the hell he could already be so insightful about her.
"I said I hated her. I pushed her away all summer."
"And from what I can tell, the only one still blaming you for that is you. Why is it so hard to forgive yourself?"
Pushing herself up to a sitting position, she wiped the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Why do you care?" she said, aggravated.
"I can't believe you'd even ask me that." His voice was low, seemingly unaffected, but she could tell she'd struck a nerve.
"Well, it's really none of your business," she continued, knowing she was speaking more out of self-preservation than real anger. She didn't like him seeing her like this, so emotional and exposed. It was far too close for comfort.
"As long as you're my friend and you keep killing yourself by being stubborn, I'll continue to make it my business. That OK by you?" He stared insolently back at her, his gaze challenging.
Sensing the tension that had cropped up, Paris interjected. "I don't even know what's going on here, but I've seen you with your mom, Rory. There's nothing more important to Lorelai Gilmore than her kid, anyone can see that." Paris shot Rory a wry smile. "I always kinda hated you for that, you know. So don't screw it up now."
"Blunt as always, Paris," Rory said, smiling so Paris knew she didn't mean any harm by her comment.
"Yeah, well, anything else is a waste of time."
"Rory." She shifted her gaze back to Marty. "I may not know your mom very well, but I know you. And it's pretty obvious to me that you need her." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "And that's all I'll say on the subject."
Rory's eyes followed him as he rose from his position on the floor. "Well ladies, if this crisis is averted, I should get back to the books." He smiled at Paris, but his smile dimmed ever so slightly when he turned his head to Rory. "I'll see you two later," he said, turning to leave. The door shut with an audible click behind him.
"Hey." Paris nudged Rory's shoulder with her own. "Pizza and C-SPAN, whadya say?"
"Sounds great," Rory said, her eyes riveted to their closed suite door. "You go ahead and order, I'll be right back."
She quickly walked to the door and pulled it open. "Marty!" she called, jogging to catch up to him in the hallway. He turned to face her as she slowed to a stop, neither of them saying a word. Without really thinking, Rory stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "I have issues about people getting too close, and it's not fair of me to snap at you just because my psyche is a train wreck, especially when you've been so nice to me and-"
"Hey, hey, hold on a minute." His arms circled around her, one hand coming up to lightly squeeze the base of her neck. "I think train wreck is a bit of an exaggeration."
She shook her head. "And now I'm practically barrelling you over in the hallway. I'm such a mess."
"As long as you don't start crying again, I won't hold it against you. I don't do well with crying girls."
"I think I'm all cried out for today, but I make no promises about tomorrow." She pulled herself back from him, self-consciously tucking her hair behind her ears. "I really am sorry," she said quietly.
He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We're good."
"So, um, I don't know how attached you were to that whole studying idea, but Paris is ordering us a pizza. Beats cafeteria food, at least, plus there will be multiple hours of C-SPAN viewing."
Marty made a face and draped a friendly arm across Rory's shoulders. "How about one hour of C-SPAN, and then we switch to something else," he suggested as they walked back to Rory's room.
"Mocking Kevin Costner's non-English accent in Robin Hood?"
"Now that is a workable plan."
Posted by Carrie on 03:10 PM