Mom sat down on the chair across from me, still wearing her power suit from work, and she looked unsure for the first time since she debated whether to accept Mr. Medina's flower-filled proposal or not. And there I was in front of her, feeling like complete scum for hiding my sexuality from her view, worse than coming back from Brooklyn after the trip to see Jess. We were mother and daughter together, but we might as well have been on different sides of the ocean. She was still filled with the shock of catching Paris, and my mind was still filled with that 'what the fuck' stare with the girl's weight on top of me.
How can my mom be so calm like this, to talk things over instead of tossing around vases and dishware? I can't understand why she's not going off on me about something I now know I shouldn't have done. It doesn't matter that I'm eighteen, for I'm still under her roof with her own rules, what few of them there were.
What do you do, however, when the rule is 'No unsupervised girls in your bedroom', and you never even considered it for your book? That had to be what my mom was thinking.
I have to admit to myself that I never fully considered what would happen when the coming out moment happened with Mom. I had an idea, which I shared with Paris, but it was probably something sugar-coated and more optimistic than reality. I know my mom, and when it comes to relationships of the same sexes in her life, her reaction has been somewhat acceptance, yet with some reservations. For example, Michel keeps his life purposefully ambiguous, but she still makes the occasional 'You have a hot guy tonight, don't you Frenchie?' joke his way, which he's never responded to. The night manager of the Inn, Tobin, is fully out and she's never really said anything about him, except he seems to regard some of the...let's say 'cuter men' with wake-up calls that have more energy to them than usual.
Let's not even get into how she regards media; she's completely shallow on that front. Two hot guys intimate and she's giggling like a schoolgirl over it. But a normal couple, there's times where she can be a bit offensive. She also makes fun of girl-on-girl kissing in movies sometimes, and though she accepts lesbian couples with open arms on the outside and has never used any gay slurs, I get the sense she's not as comfortable with it, judging from her turning her head at kissing scenes in movies.
I haven't been able to see her real reaction to a regular lesbian couple, as we only have three in the entire town, along with some single girls, and they usually regard the town more as a bedroom community than their town, they've moved out here for the sole reason of having a refuge from real life prejudices. I've never brought up the question at all when we talk (because asking that to my mom? Yuck!), so this is a whole new world for her. I sit across from her, feeling somewhat ashamed for hiding everything from her. She eyes me up, my arms crossed across my chest, my hair still mussed up from what just happened. There's also a dull ache in my stomach, arising from a combination of lust still within me, and the anxiety of Mom about to yell at me.
There was also a fear that she was going to get out the Chilton directory, hand over the phone, and ask me to call Sharon over so I could let her know I was making out with her daughter, and also happened to be her girlfriend. I had to stay strong, however; there wasn't any room to cry and break down. I had to explain things calmly, rationally, make her see it as a normal point of view, that this wasn't anyone's decision but mine.
It was odd to watch her speechless, trying to come up with a good opening line to start things off. This was a blindside to her from what it seemed, the very idea that I would be gay unexpected.
Finally, she got things started on a nervous note. "So...Paris." She sighed, trying to make sure it was real. "Paris Gellar."
I nodded silently.
"Miss 'I'll make this school a living hell for you'...you were kissing her, in your bedroom."
"Yes." I was feeling petrified with my one word answers. For once, my mother, the champion of speed talking couldn't find the words to respond or argue. She sat there for a minute in the chair, trying to figure out where to go with her mom talk. She wasn't ever expecting this, I could tell. Springing a pregnancy on her, that I know she'd be ready for, but this was never a possibility. I could see it, that she never had thought I could be a lesbian, because I didn't have the 'warning signs' most media tell parents to look out for. I had some popularity at school, was outgoing in the community, and I sure wasn't developing a secret want for flannel shirts or rambling folk music. Not that those things are bad, mind you, I respect them both, but I feel fine in my current skin.
"I can't believe it, you and Paris." She shook her head. "I thought you were going to be with Dean for years and years, and all of the sudden, you're here telling me that you've fallen for someone who doesn't have something that Dean has."
"I was going to tell you--" quickly, I was interrupted.
"When Rory, why would you hide this from me?" Lorelai was stressed, her voice showing that. "Kiddo, I thought we could tell each other everything, from crushes to shoe sizes, you know we've always had an open thing going on here."
"We were going to have a movie night in two weeks and reveal ourselves then," I confessed, trying to hold it off. "I just wanted you to be in a position where we were all comfortable, not...well, catching her on my bed."
With that, she twisted the knife of trust a bit deep, "Something you would've never done with Dean. I mean he was the perfect gentleman. You two are barely out of week two and already you're heading towards second base. Is there something missing here?"
"Dean and Paris are two different people, Mom," I noted, "he wouldn't have done that because as you said, he was a gentleman. This has nothing to do with how fast I want things to go."
"I just don't want you to be seeing her for the wrong reasons," Mom argued, "you shouldn't be using her to circumvent--"
Damn it, she was trying to assert the 'lesbian to get some' excuse with me; I couldn't let her do that! "Circumvent what?" I said through clenched teeth. "Oh my God, you can't seriously believe my wanting a girl is an excuse to get some without...you know, I'm not trying to do that."
"I know, I know," she panicked, "I just have to completely rule it out, there's no need to panic. I'm not saying you're that way, but...God." She stopped for a moment, trying to focus her thoughts on what she needed to. "I definitely need to bring my mother's intuition in for a check up though. I thought you and Paris were getting closer and there were things I noticed, but I ruled them out right away."
"What are you talking about? " How could she notice, I left no bread crumbs behind to suggest to her earlier that we were a couple. "I thought...I thought you didn't know anything about us."
"Rory, I'm your mother, it's within me to worry about everything, no matter how small or trivial." She smiled at me. "I noticed how odd it was that you broke up with Dean this time. First time it was over him saying 'I love you', and this time Jess helping you with Dwight's garden is worse than that?"
I tried to defend myself. "He was jealous about me being Jess's friend."
"He always was, kiddo, even with Jess hooking up with Mustang Sally; you knew that, I knew that, Luke knew that, it was an established fact. Lame criteria to break up with him compared to him jealous over the basket auction and almost knocking him out last winter."
Thinking about it, I knew no matter what I did, she was right. It was a bad standard to consider something small like that a breakup-able offense. Then again there was still plenty of ammunition to the fire.
However, it would reveal things I tried to usually keep hidden, ashamed to even assert control over my sexuality. Hesitating, I stared at her, trying to find the perfect way to phrase things, while at the same time thinking of a way to say it without asserting the reason I became a lesbian was solely out of sexual frustration.
"It just wasn't that," I said softly. "Far from his jealousy or anything that he caused, there was more."
"Like what?"
"To put it simply, Mom...he was a gentleman." How very Scarlet of me to phrase it that way. Bemused, she couldn't wrap herself around the hidden meaning, so I filled in the blank. "Look, he was good, kind, perfect, that wasn't the problem. The major thing for me was we were at a standstill in other..." I stuck out my tongue and tried to say it innocently. "...certain areas."
Did that get her a little shocked. "Oh geeze, you don't mean..."
"I don't mean that far, really," I disclaimed. "But I just mean in the usual 'making out like teenagers' kind of way." I then explained to her that Dean was fine, but to go through a change in my mind as far as sexuality had me curious to do things at seventeen that I would eschew a year before, heavy petting, deep kissing, groping and the like. How Dean didn't get the clues and would argue with me that it wasn't time to go that far, that he wouldn't ruin our relationship just to do something like ask how he dreams about me, and how he never bit. Last year as my feelings for Paris came to light, to block them out I tried to amplify how dirty I thought of my boyfriend to overwhelm them. I didn't use colorful language, keeping everything neutral, but I admitted going into my room sometimes, trying to call him on the cell or get him over IM to fuel my imaginary fire. I'd start a conversation with a hard flirt, and after twenty minutes of futility and his thoughts that he had a log program placed on his computer (are you kidding, his parents don't even know how to write a Word document!), I'd end it and go back to being innocent, my sexual needs bottled up for a long time. All the making out over the months ended at the bra line, never higher. That I tried to see myself with Jess as a panacea with my needs, but right after that play kiss, the first time I saw Paris without Tristan, her longtime ball and chain, that she was relaxed and more easygoing with the one thing keeping us from true friendship so, so many miles away and not to come back.
Where I thought it was going to be hard to explain everything about my attraction to Paris, the words came very easily in reality. "I found it abnormal to think of her that way at first, and I wasn't going to say anything about it at all, because what if it was just a silly phase for me?" Mom nodded. "But these thoughts, they wouldn't stay dormant and let me be who I thought I was. Once I saw past her persona, I started to see her as much more than she presents herself as, that underneath her hard demeanor, she's kind, willing to help, if not with homework of course, to make someone else's life better. I look at her, just another girl obsessed with grades, and started to see beyond that, her drive being one of the things that I admire, and that I wanted to replicate within myself." Brushing a stray hair, I continue on. "She's passionate and devoted to everything, and I saw that in every day of debate prep we did, and then the actual competition which I'd watch her at the lectern, and her eyes never even wandered down to her script. We competed in Bridgeport and she was asked by a stage manager for the competing school if she'd like her script fed into teleprompter display software." Like a fangirl for her, I sighed. "She turned him down and compared their team to the Today show. 'I'm no fucking Katie Couric; you see me perky and teethy? No? I thought not. Your team members might have aspirations of taking over for Chuck Scarborough at WNBC, but if you expect me to read my speech off an idiot box, you're dead wrong. We'll read it from heart, and we will win, end of argument.'"
"You both won that, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "Cleaned the floor with them." Of course, that was just a small step to realize Paris=cute. It took someone else to make me realize who I wanted.
Yes, the day Dad and Sherrie watched our debate with Hillside, that's when it all changed, and I can pinpoint the exact moment my feelings for Paris went from friendly to sexual. When I turned her down to celebrate the victory due to having to get to know Dad's new girlfriend, watching her walk down the hall, furious in anger as she whipped down the corridor upset that she was denied my company for the evening. The way she asked me, the hope she had, how it was crushed by the reality of my situation.
"Instead of being annoyed by Paris though, I was more annoyed by Sherrie," I admitted. "I was looking forward to celebrating a well-earned win, and as I watched her whip down that hallway, that's when I realized something, that I was feeling more than empathy for her." I stared at my hands as I admitted to Mom how I really felt. "I was turned on by her anger."
"Turned on? By Paris throwing a hissy fit?" I nodded. "Usually the caveman act has you running."
"Not this time, I was thinking about her all night, getting to know Sherrie was the last thing on my mind--" That's when I got the held up hand from mom, the TMI signal to stop things before I got into the freaky territory.
"OK, I'm just going to assume things I don't need to hear about happened after that." All I did to answer her assumption was nod my head, because there was no way she had to find out more than that...no need to share my fantasy life.
From there, things turned serious as we got to May and how I was trying to shield myself from the conflicted feelings I had for my classmate, that I shouldn't feel the way I do. Admitting to Lorelai that I knew Jess took my Dean bracelet and that it was the easiest assumption that I could make, and that I really didn't feel like it was a big deal, that her and Dean pushed me into a panic to search around for it all over. I couldn't understand how I was drawing more into Paris' words as our study hours started to add up, that I was looking at her physical features more, finding them much to my liking. Hiding all that behind the wall that was my 'crush' on Jess, my last-chance gasp at trying to confirm my attraction to the opposite sex.
Explaining as I asked her not to interrupt (I was feeling emotional and didn't want to lose focus and then fall into a crying jag), how I felt touched to be her VP candidate and that I wanted to make up the lost time our friendship lost over our first summer. Her devotion got to me, the little things she did and said, that she didn't want to lose, she would do anything good for someone's vote. After a while the speech I gave fellow students to make it known Paris was the best candidate was no longer hollow, that the words started to have meaning.
We then come to the day of the wedding, minutes after I kiss Jess, which doesn't surprise my mom as I admit to it ("I had a feeling," she confided). After hearing from her that Dad wasn't going to be back with her and I told her I was going to DC, sitting near the pond, watching the water. My mind is shocked to find nothing sparked when I kissed Jess on impulse. All I could hear instead, is that beautiful female voice in my ears, saying she had the election sealed, and that I should be ready to leave for a Capital Summer.
Nothing I could feel at all with Jess. Instead, I think of myself next to Paris as the results are read to confirm the election, and how triumphant we feel hearing the results in our favor. We smile at each other, and then before I can take it back, my imagination has Paris and I, eye to eye, looking at each other. "Thank you, Rory," she says, as she brings herself near me. "You're welcome," I say back...
And then she kisses me, the exact way Jess did minutes before. Except this time, I feel this dream buss more physically and spiritually, it's so much more powerful. It's only a dream, something I think would never happen. Her soft hair in my hands, her hands on the small of my back. Just like Jess.
Except it was Paris, someone I shouldn't have felt that way about. I explained my insecurities over the summer and fall about developing my attraction for her, how having her only six feet away and listening to her sleep talking dreams and found them cute instead of earplug-worthy, that being with her only for two months, away from the distractions of the boys and Stars Hollow made it easier for me to determine that pursuing something with her was for the best.
"What if she would've gone out with a boy, would you have accepted it?" Mom wondered. That got me laughing as I remembered back to Jamie and all that happened with him.
"She did and all I wanted to do was hope he made her pay for a dinner at McDonald's," I joked. "But I could tell she was going through the motions with that guy, she didn't even feel any kind of attraction to him really. He was nice and that was appealing, but she never was looking for a relationship with him, and I was so thankful the date didn't work out. She didn't even know she had a date with him until I made it clear to her." That memory made me gleeful that I was the only one whom she really got excited about datewise.
"So you pretty much used that guy as a guidepoint about how to go further with her?" Mom was starting to calm down and understand everything and see that that this wasn't inspired by some random thought or a sociology experiment where we tried to understand what was behind the mind of the stars of Girls Gone Wild commercials.
"It really helped me out and told me that I just might have a chance to just maybe get to her. I knew it was risky and if I didn't approach things just right, friendship between us would never be an option again." I frowned, sighing. "But I had to try, I have to take risks, like I did when I went to Chilton in the first place. If I wouldn't have done it, I would go the rest of my life wondering what might have been."
I was truthful about everything, being vocal about how I wanted Paris and all I did on purpose the last three months to assure that she would be mine. Going on and on about her, surprising Lorelai with all the little things she didn't know about Par, how much her crap mother had almost insured she would forever be a loner, it was all laid out there on the table, bare. I was still scared of the small possibility that I'd be forced to break up with her, but my fears started to melt away as I continued on and made sure that it was known I was gay for the right reasons, not to get a good grade by distracting her or silly experimentation, that this was serious. I didn't even make any jokes or witty remarks, not feeling it the right time to regard anything between us as a joke yet.
A half-hour later, and with everything out in the open (including the fact Miss Patty knew), I had bared my heart out to my mom, who listened to why I was with Paris seriously. She made the occasional 'Ice Queen' remark, but I stopped her each time. All I could hope for is that she was happy for me, no matter who I loved. I was on that couch, my mouth dried from explanations, my stomach in a knot from so much nervousness. Downcast, I tried not to think the worst, but had it in mind just in case. We looked at each other firmly, as I felt like a disappointment, while Mom was searching for where her 'little Rory' went all of the sudden. Her jacket was opened, and she was thinking about everything that I just said.
Please don't hate me Mom, I monologue, I never meant to hurt you, but I just want to be happy. I like her, and she likes me, we've had fun together and we both work well mutually. I know you're not a bigot, and I just want you to feel that Paris is a good woman, she's not going to break my heart or abuse my trust, I know it, she's not going to be possessive over me. She stayed silent for a moment, looking me over, and I saw realization in Mom's eyes.
That I had crossed a threshold in my life. Instead of doing what was expected by the town, her, and my grandparents, I had gone on my own, proving that with my turning eighteen a month ago, I can be strong, think for myself, and fall for who I wanted to. Pressure wasn't going to stop me from keeping what I wanted.
But I knew she had her fears, too. "Are you sure you're prepared for this, kiddo?"
"Mom, I know what I'm doing," I said confidently.
"Now you do, but once this gets out, you might change your mind pretty quickly." My gaze locked sternly on her as I became defensive again.
"I think that's unlikely, Mom," I groaned out. "If someone doesn't like us together then I don't want to know them."
"God, this is so odd...I never would've thought about this at all." She grimaced, trying to keep her feelings in check. "You and Paris...what did she do to attract your attention, build an origami bouquet out of notebook paper?"
I smiled at her. "Mom!"
"Talked...nerdy to you." Oh geeze, she was using her flirting voice. "Rory, want to come over after school and expand the Pythagorean Theorem with me?"
"You're not going to stop, are you?" I theorized. "She was just herself, she gave me that opening last year, and I just jumped into it."
For once, my mom, queen of biting on the most obvious of lines, decided to let that one slide, holding up her hand, saying she wasn't touching it. I knew she wanted to really badly, but from the look she was giving me, Mom was trying to accept who I was, no matter her reservations and what she thought of Paris in the past. I made her understand that it was fine to joke about her when we weren't together, but I was less willing to accept any cracks now that I know her as my girlfriend, which came along with her burying herself in schoolwork for not only the academic aspirations she had, but to flee her mother's influence.
I was right about the conversation going from 'how could you do this' to 'how I will accept this'. She eventually moved over to the couch and I finally confided in her more about what's been hidden from her since the summer, the long glances, the ways I tried to get her to see things my way, how really, Paris isn't a bad person at all, just a bit off-kilter when things don't go her way. Lorelai saw it my way, not how she might have interpreted it.
Once I got to admitting the celebratory wine and my spontaneous Porsche test drive, there was some uneasiness, I admit. Describing how I took the curve so fast, then how I slammed down the last glass of red right from the bottle days earlier, she went mom card on me and told me to be careful and politely refuse next time.
"It was just a one time thing," I assured her. "Wish fulfillment. She had the wine ready to go for months, and we weren't going anywhere, so I thought it was safe."
"Yeah, but you two drunk...you don't want to do something you might regret."
"We weren't going to do anything, she's still scared about intimacy," I admitted, sighing. "That's about the only frustrating thing about going into a relationship with her, she's only dated, never had a relationship."
"I didn't know. I guess I just assumed that well...Porsche, going really fast, she was trying to be aggressive."
I shook my head. "Not at all, just a girl excited about her first real date where she wouldn't be dumped afterwards."
Mom seemed to start thinking of Paris beyond her stereotypical view of the girl, finally figuring out why exactly I saw myself with her more than I could with Dean. It was a sudden change as she stopped cutting her down and started to understand the way I saw her.
"I really wasn't thinking, was I? I just saw you and her, jumped to a conclusion, and I almost scared her."
"No, you scared her," I said, rolling my eyes. "She's probably in my room thinking she really screwed up big time."
"I didn't mean to," she admitted. "Just first instinct, I didn't know you were going to defend her so vigorously. I thought this was just pure experimentation and that's all."
I shrugged and shook my head. "I'm afraid not." She moved over to sit next to me, and we started to wind down the talk. "I fought this for so long and I just didn't know what to feel, and I know I should've talked to you about it. I just...I thought I could handle it just fine alone."
Mom then reminded me that my age didn't always mean to stop asking for advice from her. "Kiddo, just because you're 18 doesn't mean that you're completely independent; you still need to come to me with things like this. I know I'm not exactly the best authority when it comes to these kinds of things."
"Your explanation that Ellen on the episode where she came out wanted to be a 'really, really, big best friend' to her future girlfriend proved that well," I noted with a smirk.
"True, but I can't sugarcoat this, this is a big change for you. People are going to look at you differently once they learn who you're kissing; they're going to be judgmental and harsh."
"I know that."
"Though I'm definitely going to be there when you have to come out to Grandma."
Thanks for reminding me, trying not to imagine that! I smiled a little, thinking about how my grandmother might faint upon hearing who I'm going out with. "See, there's a bright side to this."
"Seriously, we're talking a popcorn, Dots and Coke-worthy outburst. I can just imagine it now, 'But Rory, there are plenty of guys out there, why take a girl?' 'Most of them are jerks and my girlfriend is a walking, talking Cliff Notes, she looks really hot in yellow and black.' 'Claude Birchmont has a good personality and a perfect pedigree and bloodline however, what can you say about Paris?' 'Well she really knows how to lick--'"
I was laughing at her horrible imitation of the both of us, along with her obscene observations "Mom! Oh my God..."
"Oooh, oooh, I also forgot about Taylor, can you imagine her at a town meeting? She'll get on his nerves worse than Luke, citing obscure statutes and 200 year-old laws to make her point!"
"The town meetings have lost a little spice lately since he busied himself with launching his loyalty card program." I shook my head, feeling nervous. "I just hope you're willing to give her a chance. Paris doesn't grate on me as much, you just have to know she does things her own way."
"I know..." Lorelai smiled at me. "You know, hon, I would've never thought of you with her, but really, I can see it, and I should've from the beginning. She's about the only one who can match you conversationally word for word, she's intelligent, and she'll definitely keep you on track." She started to feel contrite for her outburst earlier. "I shouldn't have said she was using you for a grade advantage, I was being a bitch."
"No, you were being a mom," I corrected, still feeling a little guilty. "Paris tried to keep herself under control, but I pushed her into making out with me." Sheepishly, I sighed.
Mom found another opening with that. "So you're trying to be the man in the relationship?"
"Mom!"
Quickly she cleared up why she said that. "I mean the one trying to lead her, make her feel comfortable with everything. It looks like I'll have to calm her down majorly when I get in there and talk to her."
"I had to be careful to make my intentions clear, she's been burned by her dates in the past horribly. She has to talk things out with her psychiatrist at least twice a month and I don't want to do anything that freaks her out."
Mom and I continued to talk for another few minutes about how I found out that I liked girls, and then Paris, as I bared my soul to her. Obviously she asked if anything involving Dad or Max gave me second thoughts about relationships, and I had to assure her that she wasn't to blame for my choices in love. This was all me, a combination of hormones, an iffy history with Dean and Paris's chemistry coming together to form that conclusion. As a protective measure I decided not to mention the pro/con list, hopeful that Paris wouldn't reveal that either. The last thing Mom needed when it came to me was to learn I made romantic decisions via a method comparable to a spreadsheet.
I was able to explain myself with minimal interruption and was finally able to make Mom understand without having any kind of scene develop, and by the end of our talk, she had gone from unsure to pretty understanding with just a bit of protectiveness about us. Still, on the fly I knew that eventually she had to lay down some kind of law, and though there was a sense she could trust me, it for our own good we needed some boundaries, thus some new rules were added to the Gilmore Dating Handbook specifically for Paris and I.
The first rule: I had to keep the door open at all times Paris was in the bedroom. I didn't like it, but I could live with it. Also out the window were any rides in her Porsche and a curfew was laid down for when we had to be home.
"If it's OK with her," she added, "I'd also like her to pay half for snacks whenever we have a movie night."
"I'm sure she'll agree to that, despite her opinion that black licorice tastes better than Red Vines."
Mom voiced her shock over that fact. "Blasphemy, how can she think that?"
"Hey, I'm her girlfriend and I don't understand it." I was laughing about that, as Mom continued with some rules, including Paris having dinner at Luke's once a week, which I'm sure she'd agree to, though Luke might have some major reservations.
"Is that it?" I asked.
"Almost...just one more thing: she has to go in a sleeping bag or the couch if she stays over."
Frowning, I objected to that. "Aw man, she really hates both." But Mom was unyielding, claiming she would eventually get used to either of the uncomfortable surfaces.
No need to bring in how she sleeps, I thought to myself, knowing I might get deeper if I happened to mention how comfortable my girlfriend's bed was. But thankfully, those were the only rules Mom applied, though she said she'd be flexible if something else came up between us. I was just glad that she understood I meant no harm at all to her with what I was doing, and that I was being as cautious as I could be.
What surprised me was when I told her this, Mom hugged me and then told me not to fret over everything, that she understood that I was going after something that was frowned upon by society, and that I shouldn't have to fear everything that comes up. "Kiddo, really, don't hold back just because I have all of these fears for you, just know what you're doing with this. You know I really can't stop you, but I trust you so much, and if that involves somehow getting close to Paris, then I guess I'll just have to understand that."
"Are you sure?"
"Just be careful, you know how she is."
"Mom, we'll be fine, we've had worse happen to us," I reminded her, noting my bad middle school experiences and her introverted ways, "She has a way with words, and that'll help if someone objects."
"I know, just worried." It was just at that time that my stomach had to grumble, reminding the both of us the first question asked before we got caught. Blushing, I commented that maybe it was time to go get that pizza we all needed.
"Yeah, I think so too. But this time you better go to Joe's, that way Paris and I have time to talk alone."
"Good idea, it might be good for her to focus when I'm not here." Mom took the needed money out from her purse and gave it to me. "I know what we want, and Paris as always has no cheese on her pie."
"Yeah, you kind of remember those things."
I started heading out to the front, but not before being thankful that Lorelai was on my side. "Thanks for understanding all of this Mom. I love you."
"I love you too," she said with a genuine smile. "Thanks for being honest with me and telling me everything. I promise you I'll be the same way with Paris."
"I know you will," I said, and headed out the door to pick up the pizzas, feeling less of a weight on top of my shoulders than I had before I got home. I was glad that Mom was as cool with it as she was, and that she'll be on our side. I wasn't going to break her trust because it was so tentative, but the acceptance was all I wanted, expected, needed.
In the clear November night as I headed downtown, I was glad to be out to Mom. There was a chance for this to build, and she wasn't going to break us apart. My mind was more at ease, my stomach more settled, and relieved, knowing that Lorelai was done attacking Paris, and ending her teasing of the girl. I needed that, and hopefully things would be easier.
Although there was still that image of my brain of Paris' uncovered torso. Damn, it was nice, and I know I shouldn't have looked, but once you get a taste, you can't stop thinking about it. Why I developed a perverted mind around her I'll never know...
* * * * *
I made my order at Joe's, and the counter guy told me it would be about twenty minutes for the pizzas to be done, so there was some free time to wile away as I waited for our food. It was dark, but I was in the mood for a walk around the town square, so that's what I did. The cool air made my puffs of breath visible, and I felt a chill in my ears strolling around the area. My mind on was on so many things, including homework and the paper, but mostly it was on Paris.
How was she taking my mom talking to her, and with our discovery, was she going to withdraw and decide to delay telling Mrs. Gellar? I'm not pushing her at all and she can tell her when she's ready. Even so, to have who she probably regards as 'the cool mom' decide to jump to conclusions and go with a theory she wanted me for my grades, I could sense that she went to having some confidence about outing herself to her mom to feeling that guilt that comes back when she does something wrong. I know she withdraws into herself and I have to draw her back out, and that she's very nervous about everything that's come with this so far.
But I keep thinking about the weekend, and that maybe she was playing a tease on purpose with me, what with the texting and showing off her dress, she was feeling ready to come out to play a little more, push things a little further. I really can't explain how she would go braless on purpose out here to town; I know she's told me she hates her confining bras, but she seems to revel in the attention I give her when she's in something that pushes up her goods into something that gives me a good view. Besides, her friend is Louise Grant, flirt extraordinaire; she's had to take at least one hint from that girl to keep me hook, line, and sinker.
She was playing with me this weekend, and she knew it. But Mom was about to ruin that progress and I thought that somehow she'd try to encourage Par to be a little more restrained when it came to us, maybe go back to clothes not showing off her figure and being the complacent society girl once again.
I already had that type of partner though in Dean. If I wanted that I wouldn't have tried anything with Paris. I want her to flirt, to be a tease, known only to me for having a wild side. Her Porsche, the way her legs look in a leather skirt, the way that drone of hers just makes me wish her voice could be transferred into the form of perfect vibrations that in the right place could make me wet. The way she says my full name when I'm in a spot of trouble with her, she yells it out and suddenly I feel like the naughty little girl who put the whoopee cushion under teacher's seat, getting a nice little thrill out of what I did.
And no, that isn't my inner vixen talking, that's all me, wanting to be naughty. Within moments it was translating Lorelai's rules speech into my head, and that vixen was trying to find the many, many loopholes that weren't closed and will probably not be known by her unless someone calls her and tells on us. Not to be cocky, but I think that most everyone finds us both innocent, they wouldn't consider us sexually in any kind of way. Do they even realize that most of us smarties usually read many books a month, and that some of them just might get our blood pumping? Also, you have to consider the many aspects of academic competition, spending hours upon hours with eyes strained in front of computer terminals, microfilm readers, trying to build our arguments or a story with past references in The Franklin. The rare opportunity to see Paris' face light up as she finds something that will be the dagger to win a debate, her bright look as she describes in a frenzy that this will have Bridgeport East quaking where they stand.
You thought she was giddy after winning a debate last year, imagine her with you to 'celebrate' a win! I warmed at that very thought and felt a smile creep on my face. Then I lost my concentration for a moment, and before I knew it I felt myself crash into something as I thought of my girl thanking me for victory.
Dazed, I tried to get my bearings, and thought I bashed myself into something like a fruit cart or a bench. The impact was soft however, so I immediately ruled them out upon looking up to see Miss Patty looking down at me with a smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eye.
"Careful there, honey, the next time you'll meet a Beetle if you don't keep your wits about you." I smacked myself on the forehead and started to apologize for getting in her way.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Miss Patty, I didn't see you coming, uh...hi."
"Hello Rory," she drawled. "What's got you out here on such a beautiful night?"
"Just waiting for sustenance. Mom sent me out to pick up pizza for her and I..." Should I share that she knows? I thought, trying to wonder if it was a good opportunity to broach it. There wasn't anyone around and both Patty and I were close to the depot, but I never know in this town. Still, it wasn't like everyone in town cared, so what the heck? "...Paris is there too, so we're getting her something."
"I'm sure she is," she responded back with a knowing look. "You two are really working out well, aren't you?"
"Yeah." I was so on-edge. There had to be some way to keep the conversation vague and with veiled entendres. "She's really helpful lately, keeping my grades in line, I needed that help."
"Anything getting in your way? I see that Dean hasn't been doing that well since things ended."
I think she was trying to help me keep things low. "Nothing out of the ordinary. As for Dean, I wouldn't know anything." I could be truthful there, I tried to avoid the market whenever possible, Dean so set in his ways that I had his schedule memorized. I specifically told Lane not to mention him at all in conversation, and the few times I had seen him it looked like all the wind had been sucked out of him. I could feel a little sympathy for him, but I've thrown myself so into Paris that I don't even give it a second thought.
"How is she doing?" Patty asked.
Shrugging, I described the weekend and how tough it was on the both of us. "She was stuck in the middle of a hell party and just hated it."
"I'm sure you kept her entertained," she said with a hint of mischief. All I could do within the public setting is knowingly smile and mention how thankful I was for modern technology like cameraphones and quick text messaging. Still, even trying my best to hide things, she could sense that there was something up that I was retrieving pizza instead of waiting for it to be delivered.
She put her hand my shoulder and comforted me. "Dear, come on, I know why you're here."
"No, just getting pizza," I lied, shrugging it off. "Sometimes it's good to get exercise before you load yourself all full of junk food and candy."
"You never pick up your pizza though, I know all." Damn, Miss Patty really does have a photographic memory. "Now really, what's a girl like you doing out at a time like this?"
Shrugging, I felt a little weighted from what I was holding back, and I had to say something. "Could we...I'm trying to burn off some time until I have to pick up the pizzas." I pointed towards the depot down the street to hold off any insinuation of 'we need to talk' aloud. It didn't take the older woman long to realize that what I had to say wasn't town business.
"Of course." She nodded, and both of us walked towards and into the dance studio, where she shut the door quickly and made sure there wasn't a stray student or townsperson in the building to eavesdrop in on us. I think I sort of looked downtrodden and exhausted from having to pour my heart out and defend Paris.
Why, even after talking things out with Lorelai and being assured that she was going to learn to live with it, did I feel like a bad child who shouldn't have tried to do what I did in the first place? I felt shamed because of the way that we got caught and I still felt a minor buzz of arousal all the way through. I didn't need Miss Patty to understand the fact that I was caught, but that I was uneasy about trying to stay chaste when I wanted more.
After she asked what happened, I came out with it right away.
"We got caught, Paris and I."
"Ahh," she exclaims, almost like she expected it. "I thought you were going to tell her."
"In two weeks I was, she was too." I shook my head. "But reality had other plans."
"She didn't walk in on you two...intimate, did she?"
"Thank God no, but we were making out on my bed, Paris was on top, and it was pretty clear." I told Patty about everything, the defending, the talk afterward, the fear that Paris was going to shy away from me once again.
Miss Patty found it funny, and after I was done, told me she thought it was one of the few ways besides a confession she knew I was going to come out to my mom. She compared it to her own teenage years back in Cuba, where her father happened to discover her with the local town smart guy as she was trying to...let's say give him some experience. That's what I love about her, no matter what year she's in, Miss Patty always proves that she's never lead a boring life.
Both of us talked in serious terms for a while, her assuring me that she knew Lorelai would eventually warm up to everything, and that Paris will settle down too. I thought the same way, and I was just so thankful that the first person to know about us helped to calm me down.
After some more talking though, I could tell that Miss Patty was in digging mode, getting inquisitive with her questions. "So, how soft are Paris' hands when she's touching you?"
"I...I'm not sure how to answer that," I stumbled out.
"Child, she seems like she's quite fierce, I can see it in your eyes." She smiled at me, and my mouth dropped open.
"What do you mean?"
"Rory dear, you look like you were rudely interrupted in the middle of having an intimate moment."
"How can you tell that?" I wondered.
"Just the way you're sitting, it shows, you're edgy, like you need to finish yourself off or have a cigarette." She laughed as I got a sense of how I was sitting exactly. Usually I feel relaxed and calm, but instead I had my legs clenched together, my fingernails running in the grain of the wooden folding chair. I could still feel my face flare with embarrassment long after it should've faded, and my mind was secondarily occupied with Mom and Paris at the house, imagining a situation where my girlfriend was being nervous and combative.
"I shouldn't be doing anything with her so fast," I said to her, trying to explain my state. "It's just she looked so cute and I was looking at her all night, and she's so beautiful, but we should be focusing on work."
Smirking, she reminded me of my mindset when Paris had the idea to begin with. "Well that's why it's called a study date, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but it should be more study than date!" I threw my hands up high, spreading them out. "I tried to keep in control of my hormones and just think seriously, but she's laying on that bed wearing those jeans and that shirt playing peek-a-boo with me, and it took all I had not to just plain jump her!"
"You did it slowly then, the excuse of a massage that turned into more?"
"Mm-hmm, and it worked...at least until Mom got there." I squeaked my sneaker against the wood floor, feeling my frustrations build up again. "I didn't even know I was undressing her and suddenly I'm looking at her top slipping off, all because of my hand. I didn't know, but at the same time, my body wanted more and I'm just...just...you know, like a bottle under pressure and I just want to release the tension."
"Basically," Patty theorized, "you want more, but you don't want Lorelai to catch on too fast."
"It's silly, I know, but appearances are everything." I gritted my teeth, trying to explain. "I imagined all of this over months and months, and now that it's a reality I keep forgetting that I'm two years older, yet I'm the school's Mary, and my mother's daughter. I can't get out of that, and now that I'm the one initiating everything, I have to figure out how to tear myself from those labels." I wryly frowned.
Miss Patty, ever the sexually-minded woman, listened to all I had to say with open ears and a good heart, all I had to say. I just wanted to be back with Paris again, and being pulled away was just screwing me up. She saw that, and started to give me advice about things.
"Don't do anything about the labels, no one knows anyways. You should get your kicks in when you can, and slowly, Lorelai will realize that your dear girl isn't a threat and let you do more."
"What do you mean?" I was wondering what she exactly meant.
"You're going back home and Paris is joining you to watch a movie, right?" I nodded. "There you go, you'll get unwound then."
"You're kidding, right?" The woman was sounding crazy to me. "Patty, my mom will be in the same room, watching us like hawks!"
"She doesn't have x-ray vision though, and you're one to use a blanket to keep yourself warm."
Now I knew what she was hinting at, trying to sneak things. Still I was uneasy about doing that. "I'd be breaking her rules though."
"What are they?"
"Pretty much don't do anything in front of her?"
"Then you'll be fine, just flirt with Paris beneath the blanket, and whisper. Trust me dear, I think she's just as frustrated with things; she'll want it." She ran her hand along my shoulder and patted it down. "You're doing fine, but you just gotta keep those wandering eyes away from the both of you."
"Yeah." I smiled again at her, still a little nervous about how I'd pull off hidden flirting. "I just hope that she's open to it."
"You know she will be," Patty assured me as we talked a little more while I waited for the pizzas. It took my mind off things, and thankfully she offered much more advice than I really needed to show Paris discovery wasn't going to be the end of things between us, it's only the beginning.
You should be so thankful that Miss Patty was the one to find out first, I thought to myself after saying goodbye to her and heading back to Joe's for the pizza. Imagine if Taylor had discovered you two.
"Shut up," I told myself; I wasn't going there. The only thing I knew was that Paris and I were still together, my Mom was telling her it was OK, and a movie night with a bad flick ahead for all three of us.
Maybe a little rule-breaking too, along with other things...