Chapter 6
"Rory had come to realize that she thought of Stars Hollow as an historical map now, as a collection of places that represented the people she'd known and loved."
Chapter 6: Home Is Where...
Rory awoke to find her face smushed against a throw pillow. The chenille throw that usually lay across the couch back was spread over her prone body. Flipping over on the couch, she stretched her arms and yawned widely. She glanced at her watch - ten til five.
She sat up and swung her legs to the floor, pushing her fingers through her tangled hair and glancing at the wreckage on the floor - pizza boxes, soda cans, half-eaten bags of marshmallows. She vaguely remembered nodding off about the time Cary Elwes started singing to Maid Marian. Much to Paris's dismay, they'd gone "theme" and watched both the Prince of Thieves and Men in Tights versions of Robin Hood. Marty had pushed for the animated version as well, but Rory had argued that her day was bad enough without adding Disney into the mix, thank you very much.
Chewing on her bottom lip, Rory remembered that somehow, she had ended up next to Marty on the hardwood floor, her head resting on the curve of his shoulder. She had been dozing through most of the second movie, but she distinctly remembered him lightly resting his arm across the couch, idly running his hand up and down her arm. It was innocent, but Rory blushed at the memory all the same. It had been a while since she'd been so at peace with someone else, content to sit next to someone and not say anything, comfortable enough to fall asleep on his shoulder. Marty must have lifted her onto the couch before he left, she realized, as she had no recollection of climbing up herself.
Falling asleep with a boy. Mom would have a field day with that one. Rory reached for her bag and dug out her cell phone. She was all set to dial when she remembered two things: one, that it was five in the morning; and two, that she didn't do that anymore. She didn't call Lorelai for something so trivial; she hadn't since before their rift that summer. Their relationship was not as simple or unquestionable as it used to be.
It can be, she thought to herself. She knew it, and she'd known it before her breakdown on the previous day. The only person holding back communication was Rory herself, because she couldn't own up to what she'd done. Guilt-tripping herself was almost too easy, but admitting her downfalls to her mom was something else entirely. She couldn't look at her mother and admit how badly she'd screwed up, admit that she wasn't the perfect girl she'd always been made out to be. She couldn't tell Lorelai "hey, Mom, congratulations. You kept me from repeating your mistakes, so I just went ahead and picked out some new ones. Aren't you proud?"
Rory crossed to the small sink outside her suitemates' door. As she splashed her face with water from the tap, she could hear Marty saying "mistakes get made. Shit happens." Drying her face with a towel, she looked up into the small mirror above the sink. "I made a mistake," she said aloud to her reflection. "I'm Rory Gilmore, and I make mistakes," she said more confidently, her voice echoing in the large living room. "Pretty big ones, but still, just mistakes. No need for the self-flagellation."
"What the hell, Rory, it is five in the morning," Paris said, her face appearing behind Rory's in the mirror.
Rory whirled around and clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh. Sorry, I was just--"
"Talking to the mirror, yeah, I saw," Paris said sleepily, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm going back to bed. Carry on, nutcase."
Rory cocked her head and grinned bemusedly as their bedroom door creaked shut. "Aww, there's that Paris Gellar charm." She shot one final glance at her reflection. "But I have a better idea." Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she walked to her room for a change of clothes.
Five minutes later, she was outside in the predawn cold, walking to her car. The sky was still dark, a handful of stars shining overhead. Rory cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear as she pulled her gloves on. The phone rang four times before she heard a click on the other end.
"Hello?" a groggy voice mumbled.
"Hey. I'm going in."
"Huh? Who is this?"
"It's Rory. I'm going home."
Marty was silent for a few seconds before replying, "Rory, you know it's, like, five in the morning."
"So I've been told," she said, checking both ways as she crossed the road to the parking lot.
"Just checking."
"You know how I said I wasn't ready before? Well," she took in a deep breath and exhaled, "I think I'm ready now."
"Excellent timing." He yawned. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"That's sweet, but no." She fished her keys out of her bag as she neared her car. "I just need confirmation that I'm doing the right thing."
"You're doing the right thing," he dutifully replied.
"Thanks. Sorry for waking you up."
"S'ok. You'll have to explain all this to me when my brain is fully functioning."
"Yeah. Go back to sleep."
" 'Kay."
Rory frowned when the line fell silent. "Marty!"
"Huh? What?"
"Hang up the phone first."
"Oh. Thanks."
She waited until she heard the telltale click on his end before she snapped her phone shut. Tossing it onto the passenger seat, she climbed into her car and started the engine.
The leaves made a pleasant crunching sound under Rory's tennis shoes as she walked down the pathway to the lake. She'd parked her car at the Dragonfly, not wanting to go straight to the house and wake Lorelai up. She knew her mom would be in to work sometime after seven, and Rory wanted some time to herself before then.
She hadn't spent much time in Stars Hollow since before she left for Europe; it felt foreign to her now, like a nice town that she might visit, but it didn't feel like home. And that hurt. If Stars Hollow wasn't her home, then what did she have? A dorm room, a guest suite at her grandparents' place, a pull-out couch at her dad's. But these places couldn't be home, either. No one at Yale knew her when she was a gap-toothed six year old. Her grandparents, wonderful as they were, probably couldn't list three of Rory's favorite movies, and her Dad would never know which facial expression meant "leave me the hell alone" and which meant "I want to talk." The people that knew her, heart and soul, all lived in this town, this little community that still had open-door policies for neighbors and friends.
Rory had come to realize that she thought of Stars Hollow as an historical map now, as a collection of places that represented the people she'd known and loved. Walking across the bridge, of course, could only bring to mind one person, a person that she'd tried very hard not to think about since her high school graduation. She paused halfway across, stopping and crouching down at the exact place where they'd once argued the virtues of Ayn Rand against Ernest Hemingway; the place where she'd begun, bit by bit, to lose her heart - though she wouldn't have admitted it at the time. She didn't regret not leaving with him the night of his mother's wedding. What she regretted was the look in his eyes when she said no, the no that meant "I don't want to be with you". He'd never admit it, not to anyone, but things like that hurt him just as much as they would anyone else. He wasn't nearly as tough as he'd like people to believe, and she knew that, just as she knew that when he cared about someone, he cared deeply, more deeply than anyone could imagine. She knew he loved Luke, and would always be grateful to him for not letting Jess fall by the wayside. And she knew Jess had loved her. But his feelings and actions never quite aligned, and Rory had gotten tired of waiting for Jess to act like the good man she knew he really was, deep down. A part of her might always love him, but she wouldn't spend her life waiting for him. She could only hope that he'd find someone who would inspire him to be more than he thought he could be - a feat she'd never been able to accomplish.
The sun was steadily inching higher in the sky. Rory rose, dusted off her jeans, and continued on toward the main part of town. It was time to move on, in more ways than one.
As she entered the square, Rory noted that several lights were lit on the lower level of Kim's Antiques. It was just now six-thirty, but Mrs. Kim had probably been up for two hours already. As much as Rory loved that Lane had her own place, her own life for the very first time, she would always acquaint this antique shop with memories of her vibrant, caring best friend. Lane the audiophile, the cheerleader (three years after the fact, and Rory was still wrapping her brain around that one), the pop culture junkie, the Korean not-so-model child - she'd spent 18 years of her life in that shop, and Rory had spent a good part of those years in there with her. Rory didn't deserve a friend like Lane, she knew - but she also knew it would take several years and possibly a surgical procedure to get rid of her. Lane didn't give up on people that she loved, even when they really and truly deserved it. Rory made a mental note to schedule a girls' night with Lane soon, as she was in serious need of some good old fashioned girl talk, something that just couldn't be achieved with Paris.
Rory crossed the street and cut across the square, smiling hello to a few people she recognized. She studiously ignored the market - she wasn't ready for that one just yet. Instead, she took a seat on the gazebo in a spot facing the diner - a place that reminded her a bit of Jess, but mostly of Luke. The door opened, a few patrons exiting, and she caught a glimpse of Luke at the counter. He appeared to be busy attending to the six a.m. crowd, wearing his traditional outfit of a baseball cap, jeans, and flannel shirt - complete with a day-old beard and a scowl that seemed to be directed at Kirk. Lorelai was nowhere to be seen, but then, Rory would bet money that Luke had made a pot of coffee before he left the house that morning. It surprised Rory how comfortable she actually was with the idea of Luke there at the Gilmore house, taking care of Lorelai. She'd reacted badly when she first found out about the arrangement, true, but that was just one more thing she could add to her list of mistakes this year. In truth, she wanted Lorelai to have someone, and there was no one better than Luke. Luke, the big, grouchy, wonderful man who had taken care of the Gilmore women since before she cared to remember. The man who loved her mom, who had been the closest thing to a full-time father Rory had ever had - yeah, she was more than OK with him being part of their home, their lives. She'd have to make sure he knew that.
Crossing her arms to ward off the chill, she glanced right and left, taking in the landmarks that she knew like the back of her hand. She had two decades of memories stored up in this town. Some were faded and hazy around the edges, nothing distinct about them except the feelings they evoked in her. There was the time when Lorelai took her shopping at Doose's Market and let five-year-old Rory carry the basket. She'd lasted two boxes of cereal before she gave up, insisting that the basket was too heavy (the lure of the candy aisle playing a major part as well). It wasn't their first trip to Doose's, and it obviously wouldn't be their last, but Rory could still feel the pride she'd taken in that one simple task. The details weren't important; the feelings were what lingered.
Rory had newer memories associated with Doose's, memories that were much clearer and more detailed. She remembered with perfect clarity the way Dean's hair would fall over his forehead as he turned to watch her walk into the store; the way that lazy grin would spread across his face when she headed toward the back aisle, pretending to look at Elmer's Glue or a six-pack of lightbulbs. She could replay their first kiss exactly, down to every detail, including the smell of his cologne and the shirt he was wearing under his green apron.
She could look further down the street, to Miss Patty's dance studio, and remember the moment she'd discovered what the term "boyfriend" really meant. It wasn't a concept she'd ever really considered, as it fell outside of the small worldview - Mom, Lane, movies, books - she'd held for sixteen years. The night of the Chilton dance could very clearly be marked as the day her life changed - not for the better or the worse, but she could no longer pretend that her narrow concept of "life" was sufficient. Boys, handsome, kind boys who would read Dorothy Parker to her and kiss her like she was something special - these things were not covered in her childhood manual.
Dean was her first everything - first kiss, first boyfriend, first time - and firsts were hard to forget, hard to recover from, but she knew she had to try. She'd screwed things up with Dean, and she didn't have to take that lightly, but the sooner she learned to forgive herself, forgive him for being such a tough act to follow, the sooner she'd be able to truly move on. She knew that's what this trip home was all about - letting go. Letting go of what was already gone, and holding on to what was important. She'd hold on to the memories she had of Dean, and equally of Jess, but she was done trying to recapture what was past.
Breaking herself out of her reverie, Rory checked her watch. Taking one final glance around the square, she turned and began walking back to the Dragonfly. If she was learning to let go, she needed to decide what was worth holding on to - and she'd never wanted to see her mother more.
Rory was waiting on the Dragonfly's porch, her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms around her legs, when Lorelai's Jeep came into view. She bit her lower lip, trying to supress her nerves as the Jeep came to a park alongside the main building and Lorelai climbed out. Against her will, Rory smiled to herself when Lorelai's boot got stuck on something in the Jeep. Lorelai muttered something Rory couldn't hear as she yanked her foot free and slammed the driver's side door. She walked up the path, digging for something in her purse, and trotted up the steps, unknowingly passing right by her daughter.
"Mom," Rory said softly. She didn't look up, but she could hear Lorelai's sharp intake of breath as her steps stopped on the porch.
"Rory?" Lorelai asked, as if she couldn't believe what was right in front of her eyes.
"Hey," Rory said, turning her head back to face her mom.
"Rory?" Lorelai said again, a slight tremor in her voice as she slowly walked back to the steps. She sank down next to her daughter. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Rory looked out at the courtyard, somehow unable to meet her mother's gaze now that Lorelai was sitting right next to her. "Nothing. Everything. I don't know." She hugged herself tighter, trying to ward off the shiver she felt. "But I missed you," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper, hating the way the words shook as they left her mouth.
"Oh, sweetheart," Lorelai said.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so, so sorry. I've been cold and distant and I hate that I treated you that way, I hate it. I pushed you away and made you feel like I didn't need you anymore, but it's not true. I'm just...really sorry, for everything," Rory finished in a rush of breath.
"You done?" Lorelai asked.
"I think so," Rory said. "There's probably a few thousand more apologies left, but, you know--" she shrugged her shoulders, "redundant."
Lorelai sighed. "Then can I hug my daughter now? Because it's been a few months, and Rory withdrawal is really not a good look for me."
Unable to speak around the sudden lump in her throat, Rory leaned into her mom and felt Lorelai's arms wrap around her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, sniffling back the tears that had welled up.
Lorelai kissed Rory's forehead, rubbing her hand on Rory's back. "Honey, you don't have to apologize to me for anything. I just want to know that you're alright. That's all I've ever wanted, from the time you were a year old and walking into coffee tables and armchairs. Your happiness, kid, that's all I care about."
"I messed up really badly, Mom."
"You can fix it."
"I know."
"I'll help," Lorelai said in a chipper voice, playfully tugging on Rory's ponytail.
Rory smiled into her mother's shoulder. "I'm counting on it." And somehow, at the moment, that was all that needed to be said.
An hour later they were tucked into a table at Luke's, eating their respective huge breakfasts - pancakes for Lorelai, french toast for Rory. Lorelai was catching Rory up on the town gossip - "Kirk did what?" "You and I both know that's hardly the most embarrassing thing he's ever done. Exhibit A, A Film By Kirk." - and Rory was filling her in on classes and life with Paris. Mid-sentence, Rory glanced down to find her coffee cup nearly empty.
"Tank's empty. Be right back." She slid off her chair and crossed to the counter. Luke was at the cash register, cashing out a customer check. On an impulse, Rory came around the counter, grabbed the coffeepot from its warmer, and filled up her own cup. She turned to find Luke glaring down at her.
"Do I need to repeat the 'sacred space' lecture I gave your mother not two days ago?"
"Oh, come on, Luke, you can make exceptions for family." Before he had a chance to respond, she set her cup aside on the counter and rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You take care of me, and my mom. That makes you family," she said quietly in his ear, squeezing his arm for emphasis. "No avoiding it, m'boy."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Luke replied gruffly, enveloping her in a hug. "It's good to have you home."
"Home," Rory replied. That sounds about right. She pulled back and socked Luke lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks, Luke."
She returned to her table and sank into her seat. Lorelai tilted her head in Luke's direction, cocking one eyebrow. "What was that all about?"
"Nothing," Rory said, smiling over the rim of her coffee cup. "So, have I told you about Marty yet?"
"Naked Guy? No! Spill."
Andrew, who was sitting at the counter, laid a ten down next to his plate and got up to leave. As he opened the door and turned to wave goodbye to Luke, Lorelai's voice rang out over the diner and out onto the sidewalk.
"He pushed you into a fountain? It's official, I love this kid."
"Mom!"
Posted by Carrie on 01:41 PM