Disclaimer: This is an original story based upon the characters of Gilmore Girls. No profit will be made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to all who have given me feedback thus far on The Story of Us. This story is slower in coming and your feedback helps. I'm taking a short break from that story to write a missing moment from last night's episode. It was a brilliant episode, wonderfully acted by all, but I couldn't pass up adding more to the Rory/Emily storyline/dynamic. Just a reminder, this story is through Emily's point of view and I have tried to be true to Emily's thoughts. Just so you know, these are not necessarily my thoughts. I hope you enjoy. I would love to hear what you think.
I knocked on her door; listening for the grumble I knew was coming. I listened and heard nothing. It was 7:30 for goodness sake, what was the matter with that girl? Actually, I had come up there to wake her up five times before now and had turned away. I was so excited. Today was going to be different. Today it was going to be just us girls. We were going to have breakfast together, and maybe a walk, and then go off to the DAR tea together. Then tonight I had a roast planned for dinner, a movie night and maybe we'd stay up late just talking. I was going to get through to her. We had been doing so well only a month ago. I had been so proud when the day she had joined the DAR. Now she seemed sneaky and evasive, something I had seen before and I didn't like it. But today was going to be different. Today I was going to get through to her.
I knocked for the third time, and after I heard nothing I slowly opened the door. "Rory?" I called quietly. There was no reply. I opened the door wider and my heart stopped. She wasn't there and judging from her bed—she hadn't been there at all that night. I just stood there in the doorway—I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. Fear started gripping my heart and squeezing like a car masher. What was I going to do? Should I call the police? Should I call Richard? Should I call Lorelai?
"O God, please help me. I don't know what to do" I cried out in my thoughts as I had done a countless number of times before.
Suddenly I found my legs and I rushed into the room tearing open her dresser drawers like a mad women, looking for anything that might help me now. She would have called I kept telling myself. She would have called. Even if she stayed over night with someone, she would have called to tell me where she was. Something was wrong. For some reason she couldn't call. I fumbled for the phone on her desk and quickly called the Hartford hospital. It was a number I knew well all too well because once upon a time I called it every night, looking out the window, waiting for the lights of a motorcycle to appear and fighting off the nightmares. I asked the hospital if they had a Rory Gilmore. They said no, and I was only slightly relieved. She could still be missing, she could still be out there, missing, lying dead on the roadside. My hands were shaking—I have to get control of myself. I continued searching through her drawers until I found an address book. I grabbed the phone and started calling. I dialed the first number and it began to ring—what was I supposed to say? "Hello Madeline, you don't know me but I'm about to have a nervous breakdown—could you tell me where my granddaughter is?"
A woman answered the phone and I asked for Madeline. She said that Madeline hadn't lived there since she graduated high school—perfect. I continued on, getting more and more frantic with each disconnected number, each time I heard the words, "They don't live here anymore." I got to Paris and my heart leaped—of course, maybe Rory was staying over there. But Paris didn't know where she was either. "Rory's missing?" she asked. "Did you try over at Logan's?"
No—I hadn't called Logan. There was a part of me that was afraid she'd be there. It was strange. I was terrified that something had happened to her, terrified she was hurt or in trouble, but in my heart of hearts I knew she was probably at Logan's and that brought on a different pain. Slowly I looked for Logan's number, and a painful memory came into my mind, like someone was pressing a hot iron on my head.
"Where have you been?" I yelled at her, fighting the urge to smack her for the Hell she had put me through for the past three hours. "It's three o'clock in the morning!" She kept her head down and tried to walk past me.
"Can we talk about it tomorrow please?" she mumbled.
"No—we'll talk about it now! I want to know where you were!" I yelled again.
"And I don't want to tell you where I was as long as you are yelling in my face. What do you care anyway?"
At that one I lost it—I slapped her, I actually slapped my own child. "I am your mother!" I screamed. She just looked at me, trying so hard to mask the hurt with pride.
"Just stay out of my life!" she yelled back. "I hate you!"
Those words resounded in my head. Over and over again I saw myself reaching out to slap Lorelai. I closed my eyes—this is different. Rory is Rory. I kept telling myself that over and over again. I slowly picked up the phone and dialed Logan's number. He answered groggily—I could tell that not only had I woken him up, but he also had a hangover.
"Logan, this is Mrs. Gilmore. Is Rory there?" I asked.
"No Emily, she's not here." he answered in a slurred voice. "Sorry—why don't you check with John or Jack or whatever his name was."
I hung up the phone quickly without even saying goodbye. Now I was really scared, who was John or Jack? I had no idea what to do next. I found Lane's number next—it was a cell phone. I left a message asking her to call me. Number after number I couldn't find her anywhere. I weakly stood up and walked over to her bed. I laid down and curled my fingers around the pillow. "She's twenty-one years old. She's an adult. She knows what she's doing. She's smart—she's Rory. She'll be okay," I whispered over and over again. Suddenly I had a desperate urge to call Lorelai. I wanted to talk to her, wanted to hear her voice, wanted to tell her how worried I was about Rory. I reached towards the phone...Come on Emily, she's your daughter, call her...the phone rang instead. I snatched it up in a hurry.
"Uh, no Mrs. Gilmore, this Lane Kim."
"Lane? Do you know where Rory is?"
"Yeah, she just left here ten minutes ago. She crashed here over night. She said she was going to some function?"
I was biting my cheek to keep from crying. She was okay.
"Thank you for calling me Lane." I said.
"You're welcome," she replied.
I walked into the tea, looking everywhere for her. I needed to see her, needed to see that she was really okay. Finally, I saw her and my relief at her being alive turned sour. I was furious. I walked up to her and I could tell she could see me coming. She looked so much like her mother it was scary.
"I need to go somewhere and have a little talk with you," I said.
"Later Grandma—I'm needed out here."
"Young lady, I insist we go somewhere and talk right now," I said firmly.
"Grandma, I'm sorry, I can't" she retorted.
"There's a kitchen here, we'll go there.
"No, I'm not going to the kitchen with you!"
It was hard to admit, she's was scaring me. She'd fought with me before, but it was over defending her mother. Now, she was really angry. Well—so was I! I made some snide remarks about the guitar players—brilliant Emily! She flippantly replied they were Russian guitars and they were supposed to play that loud.
"I'm not liking this tone of yours," I whispered more loudly then I wanted to.
"Well, you're forcing the tone Grandma. I said I'll talk to you later but right now I am not leaving this room," she said walking away. Anger burned through me like acid. She was patronizing me, treating me as though I was a two year old child throwing a tantrum. I hated it when Lorelai patronized me!
"Where were you last night? Why didn't you call?" I asked, following her.
"You're over reacting," she said, trying to not draw more attention.
Over reacting? Over reacting? You scared me half to death!
"You're not wearing your dress,"
Oh that was a great comeback—wonderful
"I didn't have time to go home," she replied
"You almost missed the event!"
"No, I was early for the event, what I missed was your inspection of me back at the house—that's what you're upset about."
She's got me with that one. I was inspecting her. I wanted her to be perfect. I wanted her to be…me
"My inspections Missy are for your own good. You're new to the DAR and you don't know the proper procedure."
"I do okay!"
Rory! I'm sorry. I didn't mean that! I didn't mean to say you don't do okay!
"This is not just about me. Everyone was worried about you," I said
I was frantic. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you Rory.
"You mean when you took my private address book and tried to find me?"
"Yes I did call people,"
"Well, you shouldn't have!"
Rory…Rory! What was I supposed to do? I was worried. I didn't know where you were!
She's looking at me with that look, the look that says I am a stupid old woman and I don't know what I'm talking about. I hate that look.
"You are becoming more and more like your mother with every passing day"
"And you are becoming more and more like my mother's mother with every passing day!"
"What do you care?" I heard her ask me. I felt the anger surge through me like electricity. I reached out and slapped her. "I am your mother!"
"That's it. That is it!" I raise my voice, now realizing that every eye is upon us and I really don't care.
"What's it?" she taunted.
"I'm twenty-one, you can't ground me!"
I'm your mother, young lady. Watch me.
"No more sleepovers at Paris' house."
"Grandma—I go wherever I want to, whenever I want to and I haven't been spending the night at Paris' house three times a week. I've been at Logan's!" she said defiantly.
Lorelai Gilmore I will not let you ruin your life! Do you hear me!
"When your father gets home, we're going to talk about the house rules and be on the same page once and for all!"
"You mean my grandfather," she replies.
All of a sudden it hit me. This was Rory, and she's looking at me as though I have totally lost it.
"You know what I meant!" I retorted.
"Well, I'd have to be living at the house to have house rules!" she said.
No…please no, don't make me go through this again
"What does that mean?" I asked—as if I don't already know.
"Excuse me," she said quietly and walked away.
"Young lady do not walk away from me." I said loudly.
Please Rory! Don't walk away from me! Please!
I turned around and walked out to the car. As soon as I got there, I put my head on the steering wheel and cried for the loss of another "daughter."