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Throwing rocks at her window was something Jess had always sorta-kinda wanted to do but when he knew her, her room was on the first floor and why would he need to throw rocks when he could just tap lightly and scare the living daylights out of her?
But now it was different. Now she was living at her grandparents’ house, a veritable fortress, a temple to Anglo-Saxon wealth and status. He felt like throwing rocks at it, maybe putting a small ding in a stone wall and leaving a mark.
He had only thrown two or three pebbles when the front door opened. Jess prepared to bolt (he was good at bolting), but then he saw Rory, new Rory, Rory with the bangs and the blazers and the strange look in her eyes he couldn’t quite place.
“What are you doing?” she snorted, closing the door behind her and joining him next to the fountain that he had once heard Lorelai describe as “vaguely pornographic.”
“I didn’t know if it was okay to ring or not,” he said quietly, involuntarily glancing at the windows of the house. Did that curtain just twitch or was he imagining things?
“She’s not here,” Rory failed to suppress a smirk. “She’s at bridge.”
“And here I was, thinking I’d need to use all my stealth skills to get you in and out of here.”
“It’s a slow night, Bond.”
“Thanks for the heads up, Q.”
“Oh, come on, I would totally be Moneypenny!”
Jess shook his head, grinning at her. They never changed, did they? At least, not really, not in the ways that mattered.
“So, where do you wanna go?” Rory tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“I’m not the one who lives here,” Jess snorted.
“I don’t really know the area that well.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he sighed as Rory giggled at his mock-irritation. “Okay, just steer me towards the college part of town and I’ll find us somewhere good.”
“Move over Zagat, Mariano’s coming for the crown.”
“Your car or mine?”
“Mine,” Rory was already opening the door of her Prius. “How else would I steer you towards the college part of town?”
“I thought you’d navigate, Clark.”
“And let you be Lewis? I don’t think so.”
It was weird being in the car with her again, fighting over the radio and trying to figure out where to park. Too much like high school and study sessions and ice cream (in cones ). But he liked it because no matter the damages, those nights were the ones he was always chasing.
“San Antonio Taco Company?” Rory slammed the car door and pulled her purse higher up on her shoulder.
“Hey, I know you love Mexican,” Jess retorted, already bounding up the wooden steps onto the porch of the restaurant. He loved Mexican, too, but it was the multicolored Christmas lights strung up in the trees that had caught his attention.
“I’m not trying to argue,” Rory sniffed, following him through the front door. “Just wondering how I never knew this was here.”
“It’s a big old world out there, Gilmore. Loathe as I am to admit it, sometimes you gotta get your nose out of your books and see some of it in real time.”
“Bite your tongue!”
“I’m so hungry, I just might.”
They ended up at a table by the windows, which were open and letting in a breeze that was just a bit too chilly, but Jess didn’t mind.
Rory ordered enough food to feed the both of them, plus their identical twins and if their evil twins had decided to show up, too, they wouldn’t have starved, either. Tacos and quesadillas and enchiladas and baskets and baskets of tortilla chips and Coronas with lime wedges shoved in the bottleneck: yeah, Jess chose well.
Because a place like this was familiar to him. He felt like he and Rory were on level ground here. He wasn’t kowtowing at some ivy-covered altar of money and education, she wasn’t carefully navigating a bar with holes in the walls and deals going down in the bathrooms. Middle ground. A place they had a hard time conquering in their salad days.
“So, not to be that guy, but I’ve noticed,” Jess paused, scooping a chunk of guacamole up. “You haven’t mentioned my short novel once.”
“Ugh, you have got to stop calling it that,” Rory rolled her eyes. “You wrote a book! Be proud!”
“You’re evading.”
“Give me a second, yeesh.”
She finished the quesadilla she had been holding and chewed thoughtfully. The funny thing was, it wasn’t like Jess was dying for her approval or anything. He was past that (hopefully). He just genuinely wanted to know if she, a worthy literature critic, had any compliments or critiques.
“I love it, Jess,” she finally said, beaming the way she had when he had given it to her. “Really, truly love it, and no, I’m not blowing smoke up your ass.”
“God, it’s weird to hear you curse.”
“Not the point.”
“Continue with the praise, it’s good for me.”
“It’s….” she trailed off, searching for words. “It’s you. It’s complicated and messy and full of beautiful little details and heartbreaking thoughts and….it’s just you.”
“‘Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his own blood.’”
“Nietzsche.”
“ Thus Spoke Zarathustra .”
“Did I read that with you?”
“Couple weeks before I bid on your basket.”
“We’re getting off topic,” Rory waved a hand through the air, as if to cut through the memories of baskets and books and boys who wanted her more than they should. “We’re talking about you and your book and how amazing that is! You wrote a book! Does Luke know?”
“I’m sure there’s a copy gathering dust on his shelf as we speak,” Jess chuckled.
“Luke will read it,” Rory sounded so sure that Jess half believed she had seen it in a crystal ball or something. “He’ll be so proud of you.”
Ah, and there it was. The issue of pride. Pride in Jess, in his actions, in how far and high he’s climbed. It was something he wanted; not desperately, but just enough to put a pit in his stomach before he did something risky.
“I’m proud, too, you know.” Rory smiled before lifting her beer and sipping from it delicately. It was strange to see her drinking. Beer bottles fit in Jess’ hand like a missing puzzle piece, but Rory? Her hands were tailor-made for coffee cups.
“You gonna stick a copy on your refrigerator?”
“Give me an industrial strength magnet and I just might.”
The waitress eventually cleared away the mess of plates and wax paper that littered their table, leaving them to nurse their beers and continue to talk. Rory had said her piece. Now Jess was gonna say his.
“So, this whole ‘taking time off’ thing,” he paused, hoping he could do this subtly. “How long is it gonna last, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Rory shook her head. She didn’t sound mad, just resigned to her fate. “Every time I think about going back, I just remember what he said and I think ‘If I’m not working towards being a journalist, then what am I working towards?’”
“Wait, back up,” Jess set his drink down. He’d need all his wits about him to untangle whatever yarn Rory was currently spinning for him. “Who’s ‘he’ and what did he say?”
“It’s not important,” Rory turned to look out the window.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Jess.”
“Rory.”
“Leave it alone.”
“See, I’ve never been too good at that.”
“Jess, seriously!”
“Hey, tell me, don’t tell me,” he said quickly, hoping to diffuse the anger he had seen flash in her eyes. “But I’m thinking a sounding board would come in handy right now. Luke told me things with your mom are….rocky.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Rory snorted.
“And you know I’m the last person who would judge someone else’ life choices,” he smiled when she snickered at that. “So, come on. Spill.”
And spill she did. The whole sordid tale came gushing out, like she’d been holding it inside all these months of self-imposed exile in WASP-land. The boyfriend with the family who disapproved of her (he secretly loved that she’d gotten a taste of what it was like to be the one from the wrong side of the tracks), the newspaper god of a father who dangled an internship in front of her like a shiny new toy, the performance review where she was told that she didn’t have ‘it,’ whatever the hell that meant. The boat theft was the icing on an already overly decorated cake.
“Now do you see why I’m….” she paused, trying to sum up the emotions of the last few months. “Why I’m scared? And nervous? Why I needed to take a break?”
“Yes and no,” Jess shrugged.
“Oh, come on.”
“Look at it this way,” Jess set his clasped hands on the table in front of them, trying to look authoritative. “You’ve led a pretty charmed life.”
Rory opened her mouth to argue (he knew she would), but he forged on ahead before she could.
“Sure, your dad wasn’t around, and yeah, money got a little tight now and then, but you’ve pretty much gotten whatever it is that you really wanted.”
“But I work hard, I get things because I earn them!”
“Yeah, but the things you work for are closer to your grasp,” Jess raised an eyebrow. “You think that, even if I worked as hard as you did at school, I would’ve been accepted to Yale?”
“That’s not the point.”
“You’re right, it’s not, so let’s get back to it.”
“God, you’re infuriating when you’re in lecture mode.”
“Now you know how I felt hearing all those motivational speeches about my potential.”
“Hey, I got you to write a freakin’ book!”
“Off topic again.”
“We need a moderator. Is Brian Williams in town?”
“You’re freaking out like this because you can’t imagine a world in which you don’t get the things you want,” Jess threw this thought out quickly, like it was a hand grenade and he could run away as soon as it exploded. But he was here, with her, and he couldn’t run away from the fall-out.
“Okay, you think you can just stroll back into my life after a few years and tell me I’m a spoiled brat for hearing a newspaper publishing magnate who’s been in the business his entire life tell me that I’m not cut out to be a journalist? That’s such a classic Jess move.” She was mad, he could tell, but she was trying not to raise her voice.
“You know how many people told me I wasn’t cut out for anything but menial labor and a few stretches at the penitentiary?”
“That’s different.”
“Explain.”
“It - it just is, okay?” she sighed. “You don’t have people expecting things, great things, from you.”
“Ouch, Gilmore, you wound me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do. Proceed.”
“If you mess up at something, you can just start again, or start something new, and no one’s gonna say ‘Oh, but Jess, didn’t you always want to be a writer? Didn’t you have a childhood dream of playing for the Mets-’”
“More of a Yankees guy, myself.”
“- or being an astronaut? Didn’t you have other plans?’” Rory sighed. “No one is holding you to a list of aspirations you made when you were nine.”
“Who’s got a gun to your head telling you you have to be a journalist?”
“My mom, my grandparents, Stars Hollow-”
“Not important,” Jess waved his hand like he was sweeping them all away. “What is important is what you want to do, and I know it isn’t dressing like an American Girl Doll and playing tea party with a bunch of old ladies.”
“I don’t know what I want to do, that’s the problem!” Rory rolled her eyes.
“Do you still love journalism?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, make a pro/con list. Research some other careers that are similar to journalism. Hell, write your own short novel. But don’t get stuck.”
“I’m not stuck.”
“You spend too long at your grandparents’ house, you will be. Time keeps moving forward, even when we’re standing still.”
Rory stared at him, her mouth slightly open. “Were you always this poetic or did writing the book bring it out of you?”
Jess rolled his eyes and stood up, tossing a few crumpled bills on the table (he and Rory had split the check but he figured he’d pick up the tip, seeing as how she was unemployed and all). Rory followed suit and they went back to her car, neither one speaking.
The ride back to her grandparents’ house was quiet, but the nice kind of quiet where you don’t feel like you have to talk because you know the person so well and you know they aren’t expecting conversation. Jess just nodded along to the XTC CD Rory had pressed play on.
Rory smiled when she saw Jess’ same old, beat up clunker of a car parked down the block.
“You didn’t have to park so far away.”
“Any closer and your grandmother would have sensed my presence as soon as she got home, regardless of whether me and my car were still here.”
They got out of her car and walked slowly towards the front door.
“When are you leaving?”
“Friday. Gonna stop in Stars Hollow for a bit, though.”
“Who are you and what have you done with the real Jess Mariano?”
“Andrew promised he’d buy 25 copies of the book-”
“You called it a book!”
“-and who am I to deny myself the possibility of royalties?”
They stood at the door a beat too long, both with dopey smiles on their faces and part of Jess thought about kissing her. The rest of him knew that it was a bad idea for the both of them. Rory Gilmore had a habit of screwing with his brain and he was finally in a place where he couldn’t afford to be screwed with anymore. She didn’t need the aggravation, either. So, they just smiled.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Jess finally shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“For now.”
“Yeah, for now.”
“I expect a VIP ticket for your first book signing.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
And then she hugged him and it was nice. She even kissed him chastely on the cheek, a move he had seen her mother pull a hundred times.
“Thank you for the advice,” she said quietly after she let go of him. “I’m not going to stand still. I’m not going to get stuck.”
“Atta girl.” Jess grinned before turning to go. “Good night, Rory.”
“‘Night, Dodger.”
He stopped and pivoted slowly, one eyebrow raised.
“Just thought I’d remind you I’m still me in here,” she laughed and, yeah, it was a joke, but Jess could also see the earnestness in her eyes. She needed him to know that, no matter the package, the product of Rory Gilmore would remain the same. He knew.
He smiled again and then walked away. He heard the front door open and shut behind him as he slipped through the gate and strolled back to his car.
It was nice, catching up with Rory and all. He’d had no expectations of her falling into his arms or declaring her undying love for him (though that certainly would have spiced up the evening), but it was strange to think that they could just….go out for dinner. Nothing more, nothing less. Just two old friends, sharing their lives and their problems and their advice and a basket of tortilla chips.
And part of Jess suddenly realized why Luke never made his move on Lorelai, why he let them continue as friends because why give up this easy, comfortable familiarity for something that could break before it even got good?
He shook his head slightly as he started the car, as if to shake water from his ears. It was a long drive back to Stars Hollow. A long drive back home.