Blue, like the stripes on her skirt. Rory stood in front of a new full-length
mirror in her bedroom. Lorelai had originally bought it for the Inn, but had
decided it didn't go well where she placed it. So she had given it to Rory. She
used money from the Inn's stash, so she was a little nervous about giving the
mirror away. "Don't tell the boss. I might get fired." She stopped to think for
a second. "Oh wait, I am the boss. Well, in that case, 'Lorelai, you're fired'."
"I think you deserve leniency," Rory offered.
"Why?" Lorelai asked, with mocking fire.
"Because you're the boss. The Inn needs you. It wouldn't be fair to punish
the Inn for your mistake. It would hurt its feelings... it would be offended."
Lorelai grinned. "You are a very smart girl."
"Thank you."
"I like you."
"Thank you."
"Your hair is very pretty."
Rory furrowed her brow, confused. "What?"
"Just trying to get you to say 'thank you' again."
"Weirdo."
"Thank you."
Rory laughed.
She stood now, looking into the mirror, on what she would forever call "the
day after". She was wearing the Chilton uniform: plaid skirt, plain top, white
sweater. She had wanted to wear it at least once more, to help say goodbye to
being a little girl. Before the lump formed in her belly, before her hips
widened and her thighs grew. Before she officially became a woman and a mother
all in the same day.
This little girl stared into that mirror, as if it was a telescope. She had
wanted a telescope so badly when she was ten. "I want to see aliens!" she
explained.
"Look at Kirk," was her mother's answer. No telescope for this girl.
She stared into the mirror at a face she no longer recognized. A slut, a
whore... "the other woman". A girl who was going to destroy lives, destroy a
marriage, today. She didn't want to, she really didn't. But she had to tell
Dean. This was his child, too.
Rory turned away from the mirror, not strong enough to face it anymore. She
peeked her eyes at her bedroom door, making sure that it was closed. It was. She
proceeded to take off her Chilton uniform; peeled her sweater off, slid her
skirt down her legs, pulled the shirt up and over her head. Rory gathered the
clothes into a messy pile and took them to her closet, burying them in a deep,
dark hole at the back of her closet. She didn't want to see them for the rest of
her life. Well, at least the rest of the year.
She then set about surveying the rest of her clothes. This was an important
day, and she had an important task to complete. She was going to tell Dean.
Tentatively she reached out to grab a specific hanger. Hanging on it was a
black t-shirt with a small "v" cut out in the center at the top. Simple.
Sensible. Perfect. Next, she fetched a pair of jeans from the bottom drawer of
her dresser. They had a flower design on the side of both legs. They were new;
she had never worn them before. It was fitting; she had never done something
like this before.
Rory took a deep breath, and started to get dressed.
Her fingers on the steering wheel were numb. She held onto it, tightly. She
was afraid she would forget where Dean lived, just because. A part of her hoped
that would be true. She wasn't ready to face this, to face him. But she would
never be.
Yet she arrived, all in one piece, with broken pieces on the inside. The slam
of the car door startled her. It was so loud, so sudden. Rory realized she was
on her feet. She fought to keep her balance. Vomit stirred in her stomach, just
waiting to pounce.
Releasing the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, Rory took one step
forward, then another. As she crossed the driveway, she began to hit her stride.
Her footsteps on the cement sounded hollow, just like her heart.
Rory reached the front door and right away, she pressed the doorbell, not
wanting to stop and let herself think. Thinking might provoke running. And she
didn't want to run away. Actually she did want to, but her conscience wouldn't
let her.
Impatient, she rang the doorbell again. Finally, the door was opened. And
there stood Lindsay, her face annoyed. She started tapping her foot on the
ground, her feet dressed in pink slippers.
"Rory," she said, recognizing the trembling girl in front of her. "Tell me,
what time is it?"
Rory looked down at her watch. Reluctantly, she said, "8:37..."
Lindsay nodded. "8:37 in the morning." Rory looked confused. "What day is
it?" Lindsay continued.
Slowly, it came out: "Sunday..." Lindsay's taps sounded like fireworks
exploding. Rory was trying very hard to concentrate.
Lindsay finally solved the puzzle. "I was sleeping."
Realization crept into Rory's face, her eyes widening. "Oh my gosh, you were
sleeping in. I am so sorry. I didn't even think..."
Lindsay's face softened. "Forget it, I'm over it," she said, flicking her
hand to her right. She sighed. "So I assume you're looking for Dean?"
Rory exhaled. "Yeah. Is he here?" She looked beyond Lindsay to the home
inside.
"He's at work."
Rory looked back at Lindsay. "Work?"
"Yes. He works weekends now."
"Oh." Rory's disappointment showed.
The two paused for a couple of minutes, and were wrapped together in a dead
silence. Finally, Rory spoke. "Where is Dean working today?"
"Doose's."
Rory took off. As she hurried away, Lindsay yelled, "But you won't be able to
talk to him!"
Rory's steps went on uninterrupted. "Well, I've got to try!"
"He'll be too busy!"
"Maybe I can catch him on a break or something."
By the time Rory turned around to say thank you for the information, and
apologize again, Lindsay had gone back inside and shut the door. Rory got into
her car and drove straight to Doose's, her nerves eating her alive. Her body was
shaking so severely that she nearly lost control of the car, more than once.
Regardless, she arrived at her desired destination without a scratch. Hating
herself already, Rory made her way to the tiny grocery store. Immediately she
surveyed her surroundings, looking for the father of her baby. Perusing the
aisles, she finally found him helping an old woman find the peas.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Rory curiously. "It's the peas. You came
here looking for peas, didn't you?"
"I prefer them fresh," Rory lied. She hated vegetables, peas the most.
Dean held his hands up in front of his chest, his palms to the ceiling.
"Then... what are you doing here?"
God, he was beautiful. Rory looked around her. "I think we should be alone,"
she whispered.
Dean raised his eyebrows. The two of them were now the only ones in the
aisle. "Why are you whispering?" he whispered back.
"I don't know," revealed Rory in a normal tone, her voice sounding defeated.
She walked slowly toward Dean, closing the gap between them. "I... I have
something to tell you," she began.
"Okay," Dean said with nonchalance, shrugging his shoulders. "Go ahead."
"Go ahead?"
"Tell me."
Rory's heart was beating at an abnormal rate. She swallowed air. Her mouth
was dry.
She was on the verge of a breakdown.
"Rory..." Dean started when she said nothing. "Rory, you can tell me any "
"I hate peas," Rory said, suddenly bursting out words. For the first time,
she didn't like the sound of her own voice. Just as Dean was starting to ask her
to clarify, Rory cut him off again. "I lied. I said I liked fresh peas, and I
don't I don't like any peas. I hate vegetables, well, most of them. I'll eat
corn, carrots, lettuce on my burgers, oh and celery, I'll eat celery. Sometimes.
But not always, I mean, sometimes you just don't feel like eating celery. Even
if it has cheese whiz on it, or peanut butter, with those raisins that are
supposed to be ants, on a log, the log made of peanut butter, you know? And I'll
always eat celery with Ranch dressing, even though it's got to be the right
brand." All of this told with a rambling speed that was very Gilmore and made
Dean's head spin. Before he could say something, Rory's face crumbled up in
pain, and she started to cry. She put her head in her hands to catch the tears
that were falling from her eyes. "I'm a horrible person," she sobbed, her voice
muffled by her hands.
Dean was flabbergasted. He didn't know what to say. "Uh..." He looked at the
small figure before him, and his face melted in concern. "No, you're not." He
stepped toward her, but she backed away.
Rory took a long sniffle, and raised her head, taking in Dean's expression.
She searched his eyes for confirmation, for traces of truth.
"Yes, I am," she said, believing every word that came from her mouth. "I
slept with a married man in my own house in my own bed! Then tried to lie about
it. And now, God, I have something to tell you." She broke down into tears
again.
Dean held his breath.
Rory's voice was so sad, so small. She was a child saying these words. "I'm
pregnant."
Dean didn't have time to react. This girl that he loved was dying inside. He
reached out and seized her, pulling her close. He had no words, no way of
consoling his best friend but to hold her.
"Shhh..." he finally said. Rory cried on. He stroked her hair. Nothing else
mattered. Right now, he was with Rory. And that was it.
A customer, a frail looking old man, wandered by. He stopped to look at the
happy couple. "We didn't have her favorite brand of peas," Dean explained.
Rory arrived home with no more answers than she started with. She hadn't let
Dean have a reaction, she had just had one of her own. It was as if her emotions
were all bottled up, trapped. And then in that moment, with the security of
having Dean there, the bottle broke.
"Hey, babe," greeted Lorelai when Rory came through the front door. She
hadn't even seen her daughter yet, but she decided that the opening and closing
of said door was Rory's work. (Even though everyone who knew the girls had been
told to barge right in. Lorelai never "felt like" answering the door herself,
which was apparently a big factor. The big factor. Calling out "Rory!" or
"it's open!" was what she chose to do. And since it was her house, no argument
was sufficient.)
"Hi, Mom," Rory answered, stepping into view. Lorelai was spread out on the
couch. Immediately she noticed Rory's dull, lifeless tone and her tear-streaked
face.
Lorelai softened her eyes and her own voice. "What happened? Where were you?"
Rory gave her a pointed look that said it all. Dean. Either that, or Rory had
been involved in a train wreck.
Lorelai nodded to show she understood. "Oh."
Rory's voice wavered when she spoke, as if the tears were coming again. They
were certainly on their way. "I have to go to my room. I have to be alone. I
can't be with you right now."
As Lorelai absorbed the sting, Rory turned on her heel and rushed to her
bedroom. The scene of the crime. The door slammed and she winced. She
hadn't known there was such anger within her. But it brought her to a
realization: she was angry. Not just sad, not just regretful, not just
wallowing in her own self pity. Mad. Mad at herself, for letting this happen. It
was her fault. It was.
Rory groaned and flopped down on her perfectly-made bed. She slammed her head
into her pillow, and rested her feet with their dirty shoes near the foot of the
bed. This should bother her, but so what? It didn't matter; she didn't care.
She ran her tongue over her teeth and made a face as though she had just
tasted something sour. Residue brought her back to what happened only minutes
ago.
She had just left Dean stunned, tearing her body suddenly from his embrace.
Out of nowhere. And then she did something she had done before and no doubt will
one day do again. In one breath of air she said, "I have to go." And then she
was gone.
Now, standing on the curb, she walked down to the street. She got a distance
of about three feet before collapsing. Standing on her hands and knees, her
stomach got its revenge. She vomited up everything she had eaten the day before.
She kept gagging and vomiting more, over and over again. It was exhausting.
When she was finally done, and had the attention of everyone on Main Street,
slowly Rory climbed to her feet. Then stood on shaky legs, somehow making it to
her car. On the way home, Rory's stomach ached and growled. Sharp, sudden pangs
would occasionally attack her stomach and sometimes surrounding areas. She was
in a lot of pain.
Rory brushed her teeth, not able to stand the taste in her mouth any longer.
She fell back into her bed, after turning her stereo on. The sounds of Dave
Matthews Band flooded through every inch of her bedroom. She closed her eyes and
attempted to float out of this world, into oblivion.
But she could only think of one thing. Rory sighed, and gave in to the
thoughts. Pregnant in her teens, heh. She really was her mother's daughter.
to be continued...
