❝JUST PLAIN AWKWARD❞
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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter twenty-three,
Gilmore Girls — Season One
April 17th, 2001
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[ LUCY'S POV ]
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE, I'm sat alone in the apartment with my music playing and my head buried in textbooks. I'm finally studying, and focusing on upcoming tests that I have, and I'm at peace.
Well, I'm in peace until Rachel barges through the door in a craze. She has her camera tucked into her bag, and she has several photos under her arm, and she comes to an abrupt stop when she sees me. She almost looks surprised to see that I'm here, in my apartment.
"Lucy. You're here. Good."
I furrow my eyebrows, confused, and I lean forward to turn off my music. I had the "Guilty Pleasure" cassette tape playing, and I was humming along to Prince's "Purple Rain" before Rachel walked through the door, and now she wants to talk with me. Great.
I close my textbook, and I watch as Rachel moves towards me with a stack of photos in her hand. The apartment, for the past two weeks, has been covered in all kinds of photos that need developing. Whilst studying, I often find myself looking to them, and I admire her work, I do, but I've never understood her passion for it. Honestly, I've never understood her.
She hands me a photo, and I immediately smile. It's a photo from the Starlight Festival, and it's me and Tristan standing close together by the bonfire. He has his arm around my back, and I'm leaning into his delicate touch. It's a sweet photo. It's our only photo too, and I love it.
Before I say anything, Rachel says, "You can keep it obviously. I thought it was sweet."
"Thank you," I say, offering her a smile as I keep my eyes on the photo of me and Tristan. We look happy, warm, satisfied. I can't wait to show him this. I can't believe this is the only photo we have together. I seriously need a camera.
Rachel steps away from me, and I place the photo down next to me as I reopen my textbook. I would speak to her, but I've barely spoken two words to her since she arrived. It's not that I can't speak to her, it's that I don't know what to say to her. She wants to be with my dad again, and I don't really know how I feel about it.
I want my dad to be happy, but I'm not sure if she's the answer. Actually, I know Rachel isn't the answer to my dad's ultimate ending, and I think he knows that too.
"Uh, where have you been?" is what I decide to ask, feeling it's the safest option to begin a conversation.
"At that old inn— the Dragonfly— with Lorelai," she tells me, and I grin because I still find it amusing that Rachel— my dad's ex— is forming a friendship with the woman he's been in love with since I was twelve-years-old. "She's thinking of opening her own inn."
I hum in response because I already know. She'd be an excellent inn owner, I've always thought that because she runs the Independence Inn so brilliantly and flawlessly. She deserves to succeed at her own dreams, and I like to think she'll get there one day. Everybody does.
Me and Rachel fall back into a strange, awkward silence, and I look down at the words in my textbook to distract myself.
And then Rachel says, "I'm not sure I'm going to be in Stars Hollow much longer," and I glare at her with disappointed eyes.
I was a fool to think she'd stick around.
"Right," I say, my voice cold. "I didn't think you would stick around anyway."
Rachel sighs and she takes a seat at the dining table. "I can't seem to make Luke believe that I really want to stay this time, and I definitely can't make you believe, and if you don't believe then—"
"It doesn't matter what I believe," I argue, interrupting her.
"It does matter, Lucy, and you know it does." Perhaps my opinion on Rachel matters, but I'm not the only contributing factor to my dad's ultimate decision, and she knows that.
"What matters is what you want, Rachel. The reason my dad doesn't believe you want to stay is because you made that exact promise five years ago, and you ran away."
I don't mean to be harsh. Okay, maybe I mean to be a little harsh, but I don't want to argue with her. She left to pursue her goals, her dreams, and I've always been supportive of those who choose to do that, but the way she left was messy and abrupt. It hurt me, and it broke my dad.
She's right. If I don't believe in her, Dad never will, and if Dad doesn't believe in her, I won't.
She doesn't respond to my previous argument, so I speak again. "Have you told my dad that you want to stay? Like, have you explicitly told him what you want?"
"Till I was blue in the face, Luce."
"He has a good reason," I defend. I'm always going to defend my dad. He does the same for me. "You left five years ago, and it really hurt him. It hurt me."
Rachel sighs, and she looks directly at me. "I don't blame either of you," she says, and I look away, a little afraid to make eye-contact. "I've given him and you no reason to believe me. I just hope that you can both magically forget that I skipped out a million times in the past."
"It's not that easy," I tell her, and Rachel nods. I shrug my shoulders, and I lean forward slightly. "Have you told him you're thinking of leaving?"
Because if she hasn't, I certainly will.
I'm not lying to my dad.
"No," is what she says, and my teeth clamp down on my bottom lip. Crap.
"Are you going to?"
She shrugs. "I don't know," she says. "I mean, I've been trying to make everything good again, Luce. With Luke, with you." I know she's been trying, and maybe I've been distant, but I don't know how to speak with my father's ex-girlfriend. It's not easy to go back to how it was before.
"I'm not eleven-years-old anymore. It can't be how it used to be. We're different— me and my dad— and since you, my dad hasn't been with anybody else." I don't know if I'm supposed to say that, but I did. Sorry, Dad. "He's a really great guy, and I'm not just saying that because he's my dad, but he's an incredible person, and when you left, he..." I pause, realising I shouldn't really be discussing this— their relationship. It's not right for me to do so.
"I know things can't be how they used to be but I don't know how long I can stick around and wait for your dad, Lucy."
I remember the Rachel who used to read to me before I would go to sleep whenever my dad was working late. I remember the Rachel who would make me laugh at ridiculous, stupid things. I remember the Rachel who would take me on silly nature walks so she could take pictures, and I would feature in many of those photos. I remember all the sweet memories, the memories of a woman who really cared about me, who really cared about my dad, but that woman has now changed. She isn't that same woman.
And my dad isn't the same. I'm not the same. We're older, we've moved on, and part of me thinks I should encourage Rachel to move on too, but what if she really is the one my dad has been searching for his entire life, and this is his second chance.
I shake my head, and I peer back down at my textbook as Rachel moves from her seat and towards the bathroom. However, just before she steps away, she turns to me and says, "Look, I don't know if you want me to stick around or not but..." She pauses, and I glance over at her. "If you believe me— even a little bit— some words of encouragement from you would be great, but only if it's not too weird."
Is it weird? Yes. Will I help her? Probably.
I don't say anything, and Rachel steps away while I turn my music back on. She might be in the apartment now, but she's not ruining my alone time. I'll maybe speak with my dad later. I don't know how he'd feel about me knowing. Sure, we talk about every aspect of our lives, but I don't know how he'd feel about Rachel discussing private things with his kid.
I hate that I'll try to help Rachel, and I hate that I'll definitely be speaking to my dad later.
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I HELP MY DAD UNLOAD THE LATEST SHIPMENTS INTO THE BACK ROOM. I'm trying to think of a way to discuss Rachel, but I haven't got a clue what to say. I want to help her— I don't know why— and I know my dad will listen to me, so I'm just going to try.
Honestly, I don't really know how my dad feels about Rachel. I don't know what his thoughts are as we haven't discussed it, not yet anyway.
So I just decide to just come out and say it.
"Do you want Rachel here?"
Dad pauses, and he looks me dead in the eye. I continue to stack the jars of pickles onto the shelf, refusing to look him in the eye as he tries to conjure up a response.
All he says is, "What?"
"Do you want Rachel here?" I repeat.
"I heard what you said, Lucy. I just—"
"You said 'what' so I just—"
"I don't understand why you're asking me that," he interrupts.
To be honest, I don't know why I'm asking him this. I have no good reason to help Rachel, other than the fact that I'm a good person, so I don't know why I'm asking my dad an obviously uncomfortable question.
Before I have the chance to respond, Dad's mouth falls agape, and I think he realises what this is all about. "Did Rachel put you up to this? Is she seriously talking to my sixteen-year-old daughter about me? She has no right to do that. I swear—"
"Dad, stop," I interrupt, finding his rant to be unnecessary as I'm the one who chose to ask the question. "I'm asking because... I don't know how you feel about her. I mean, she sleeps on our couch. She eats our food. She spends time with us but you don't seem..." I pause, trying to think of the correct word. "Yourself."
Dad scoffs, but he doesn't argue with me. He knows I'm right, he knows he hasn't been acting like himself since Rachel arrived, and I just want to know what he thinks. Honestly, this isn't about Rachel, I'm just concerned for my dad. I don't want him to jump into something that'll hurt him again.
I sit down on one of the stools in the storage room, and I peer up at my dad. "Look, I'm just worried that Rachel will hurt you again. She's thinking of leaving." I'm not sure if I should tell him that, but from the look on his face, he seems unsurprised, relieved almost. "Personally, I think you deserve better, but I also think you should listen to her, like really listen to her. Maybe her motives for being here are good, but if they aren't, I just worry about you jumping into something that'll hurt you again."
"I appreciate it, kid, but I'm fine."
Dad has never been too big on the whole "feelings talk," not with me anyway. Sure, he listens to me if I have a problem, but he's never been very good at telling me how he feels. All I want him to do is talk to me about this Rachel situation. I'm somebody he can trust, and he knows that. I think he's just afraid.
I plant my hands on my knees, and I stare at the floor until I hear Dad sigh. He then takes a seat opposite me, and I think he might actually tell me what he's thinking.
"Rachel has been giving me the same "I've changed" speech for the past two months, Luce, but I know she will eventually get bored and leave again," Dad begins, and I frown because it is true. "She isn't made for this life. She isn't the "settling down" type, and you know that. She skipped out five years ago, and I focused on you. She didn't like that I wanted to stay in one place, stay in the place I raised you so she left, and I let her because I have other priorities— more important priorities."
Dad has always put me first, and I know he always will, even if I tell him not to.
This is the most my dad has talked about a woman to me before. I was always too young when they left, and we never discussed his past relationships as there was no need... until now.
"Do you ever think she could really mean it? Like, she wants to settle down... with you?" My stomach churns at the thought because I really don't think she's the one for my dad, but she does deserve a chance to be heard.
"I know what she wants, Luce, and it ain't me."
"You're a great guy, Dad. Honestly, she doesn't deserve you, but she does deserve to be heard," I tell him, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Give her one final chance and if it doesn't work it, it doesn't work out, but just hear her out."
"She shouldn't be talking to you."
"I know," I say. "But she knows I have more leeway with you than anybody else so..."
He shakes his head, but he doesn't disagree with me. He knows that he'll listen to me over anybody else in the world, and I would listen to him first before anyone too.
"I also think you don't like Rachel and Lorelai being friends," I say, and I immediately regret the words because Dad glares at me, appalled by my words, but I just grin in amusement. "What? I'm not wrong."
"Lorelai can be friends with whoever she wants," he tells me, but I know deep down that he isn't pleased with the whole friendship she has formed with Rachel.
"Right," I deadpan. "You totally don't mind."
"I recommend you stop talking." Dad pushes a box towards me, and I snatch the knife to slice the tape off.
For as long as I can remember, me and Dad have always done inventory together. Whether it be in the middle of the day, or at the crack of dawn, we've always sat in the storage room and unloaded the shipments together. It's one of the many things we do together that I enjoy. It gives me a chance to relax, a chance to forget about studying for a little bit, and nobody can bother us back here.
Well, we thought nobody could bother us back here but if your name is Addy, the rules don't exactly apply.
"Hello, friends." She struts into the room like she owns it, and Dad immediately groans. I know he loves Addy, but that doesn't stop him from scowling at her for existing. "Caesar told me you were back here, and I thought, "Hey, it's been far too long since I've helped you two unpack," so I'm here. Use me at your disposal."
She walks in, drops her bag and she flicks my dad's cap straight off his head. "Hey, Luke."
Dad peers over at me as he situates his hat back upon his head, and I laugh because how can I not? My best friend is funny, and I know Dad wants to laugh but he won't entertain her, not in a million years.
"Addy, my insurance doesn't cover you and—"
"And if something falls on my head and kills me, you can't be held responsible," she mocks, a satisfied smile on her face. "Yes, Butch, I've heard the anecdote."
My eyes widen because Addy is one of the only people who still torment Dad with that nickname.
I remember our first day at Stars Hollow High when we walked in and found the picture of my dad from high school. Addy couldn't stop laughing, and I was internally dying because everybody had seen the photo. And because I was the kid of the famous Butch, everybody took it upon themselves to make my first day of high school absolute hell.
Addy then stopped by the diner after our first day and wouldn't stop rambling in my dad's ear about the nickname. I swear, it was the first time I saw my dad cry in frustration.
Dad crosses his arms over his chest, and I see him peer over at the knife in my hand. It's a tiny pocket knife, but it can do some damage. "Dad, no," I warn.
"Is he going to kill me?" Addy whispers, but Dad can obviously hear her. "If you do, can I at least run and scream through town in my underwear while sprinklers spray me down. I promise, I'll slow down so you can stab me."
I grin at the reference to Scary Movie, but Dad looks the least bit amused. "You're..." Dad pauses, unsure on what to say, and I'm not surprised Addy has rendered him speechless. She tends to do that. "I have no words."
"I know. I'm brilliant like that."
"Was going to say psychotic but sure," Dad deadpans, offering her a fake smile, and I roll my eyes. I do enjoy their bickering a lot. It's my main source of entertainment these days, and God knows I need all the entertainment I can get.
Addy takes a seat and she grabs the knife off me so she can cut open the box. "So, what were you guys talking about? Anything fun?"
Dad says, "Nothing," while I say, "Should Dad give Rachel another chance?"
Dad scowls at me, but I can't lie to Addy. Besides, she can offer some friendly advice too. "You should give her a chance," Addy offers. "But only one, 'kay?"
"I don't need your help, Addy."
"Yes, you do." Addy points the knife towards Dad as she pulls open the box.
"No, I—"
"Listen to Rachel. Take her on a date. Be kind. Give her one more chance, and then let her go the second she wants to leave again, or realises you're in love with Lorelai." Addy laughs, but Dad has never look so unamused. "Actually, both those events may occur together."
Dad looks to the knife again, and I shake my head. "Dad, you aren't killing her."
"At least give me a chance, Luke."
"Also, I am not in—"
"In love with Lorelai?" Addy interrupts. "Yes, you are, my friend."
I watch them bicker back and forth, something they always do, and I sit and laugh while I unload two full boxes of supplies. It's shocking how much one can get done when a classic Addy-Luke bickering erupts.
Despite their silly arguments, I really do admire them. I'm grateful that my dad is "cool," according to Addy. He's always been kind to Addy, always giving her somebody she can look up to, and even though my dad claims to hate everyone, he really does love Adelaide Sloane like his own kid.
I only come back into their silly bickering when I hear Addy say, "Luce, don't you want a suitable stepmother?"
I glare at her and shake my head. How on earth did they get to that? "Don't listen to her, she's insane," Dad argues, but Addy just scoffs.
"Personally, I don't think Rachel is marriage material but she's certainly date material."
"I'm not taking your advice," Dad insists.
"Oh, Lucas, I think you will."
And that evening, while me and Addy binge old movies upstairs in the apartment, Dad takes Rachel on a date to the movies— following Addy's advice despite his arguing.
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authors note:
this is sort of a filler chapter but season 1 is close to coming to an end :)
also i love luke & addy