MAYBE TOMORROW ... gilmore girls

chapter six

My sister doesn't mention it. I've always been easily embarrassed and, because of that, an easy blusher. My family stopped mentioning it when I was young. It was the one kindness I was afforded.

"Oh, uh, I thought I'd get Rory something she might actually like and not something Mom picked out."

"The hat was atrocious."

I huff out a laugh. It absolutely was, but mother wouldn't let me leave the store until I'd bought the weird pink flat cap for my niece. No sixteen-year-old wants a flat cap. "I've still got the receipt."

"Good. I've been eyeing this leather handbag that I think would go so well with–"

"The cowboy boots you wore on Rory's first day or the booty shorts?"

Lorelai's eyes narrow. Usually, a look like that would render me immobile, and yet, here I am moments away from laughter. Maybe it's because my sister's eyes shine with mirth instead of digging through my bones to pull out my heart and squeeze until it explodes all over her hands. Maybe it's because I don't feel hated for once.

It is all I have ever felt. How long have I been conflating love with hatred?

Lorelai jabs her elbow into my ribs. It should hurt. I want to crack open my ribcage and create a home for her. "When did you get funny, Leigh?" I nudge Lorelai away from me as she laughs. Her laughter is the ribcage I was created from and I want to sink right back in.

Rory, fortunately for me, steps in and takes the swinging gift from my fingers. Before I can run off and hide in the shadows of their house – or the kitchen, whatever is easiest – she takes a hold of my hand and pulls me over to the middle of the living room where her closest friends have gathered. This is her real family.

"Everyone, this is my Auntie Leighton! Be nice."

I'm paraded around and introduced individually to everyone. Lane Kim, Rory's best friend, sits on the floor wearing a Pixies t-shirt that I recognise people owning from my youth. Miss Patty lives up to what Jethro told me of her because, as soon as we shake hands, she tries to catch whatever gossip she can from me about my divorce. Christ. Babette and Morey, the married couple who live next door and listen to a lot of jazz music. And finally, at the edge of the group, are Jethro and his daughter, Evie. She jumps up as soon as I reach them, but Jethro stays seated, grinning up at me through that thick beard of his. Harrison was always clean-shaven, unable to stand the feeling of hair scratching his face. I never said it but I always liked a beard better.

I tear my gaze away from his to focus on the bouncing figure of his daughter.

Evie Feldman is in my twelfth-grade class. She sits near the back, always in a non-uniform beanie that I have to tell her to take off before Charleston walks in and we both get in trouble for it. And somehow, despite that, she still likes me – or so she says. She looks nothing like her father, but she somehow caught his accent despite growing up in Stars Hollow and she's got his odd sense of humour that makes only them laugh. I wonder what her mother looks like – probably just like her, actually. The same caramel-coloured hair that always swings in a ponytail, the same row of earrings taking up most of her ears, the same long nose with the bump near the top. She does, however, smile exactly like her father. The left side of her mouth rises just a little higher and all of her teeth show. Most animals would see that as an act of aggression. Except, the Feldman smile is oddly comforting.

"Come, sit with us, Ms G!" I have no idea how many times I've had to tell Evie off for calling me that, and yet, she never listens. I never tell her that I actually quite like it, though. Maybe when she graduates, I will. She tugs me down to sit beside her father and then she sits on his other side. They both turn their comforting grins onto me.