Disclaimer: All Gilmore Girls content belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino.
. . .
two years later
A Ramones song was stuck in her head, and Ella hummed along with its tune as she twirled around the diner. Her hair, freshly cut, was back in a black bandana. She blew her wispy curtain bangs away from the sides of her forehead as she served up lunch. Lane was on shift, and they bounced around together in sync. Working with her made everything a little sunnier. Lorelai had always said Ella and Lane were night and day, respectively. The thought of it made Ella smile as she joined her friend behind the counter again. Recently, Lane had been experimenting with contacts, and it was still jarring to see her without her trademark glasses.
They made a dynamic duo, as Luke was off to fix random bits and bobs at the Inn. With he and Lorelai engaged, he was over there doing repairs for free nearly half the time. During which time, especially in the afternoons, Ella was left to look after Luke's daughter, April. To say she was shocked when Luke told her he had a twelve-year-old kid that some woman from his past had never told him about would've been an understatement. But soon, April was fitting into the groove of town. Ella was always glad to do homework with her (not that the brainiac ever needed help per se) or listen to the girl's long-winded monologues about obscure scientific principles. Sometimes, Ella hardly believed Luke and April were related. The girl could talk for days without taking a breath if she had the chance. Watching April concentrate over her textbooks and scribble essays during the early dinner rush sometimes made Ella's heart do a little, nostalgic twist. She was no longer the girl doing calculus at the corner table. To everything there was a season.
"'I Wanna Be Sedated'?" Lane asked, breaking Ella out of her reverie.
Ella turned to Lane with a small smirk, arms crossing over her chest. Breathing out a sigh, she gave a nod. Things were finally slowing down, almost everyone with a plate in front of them. She had taken over the floor for the day. Lane's wedding to Zach was only weeks away, and Lane was stressed enough as it was. Ella figured having Lane on register would at least be a decent method to avoid her passing out.
Lane narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at her friend. "What's got you in such a good mood?"
Shrugging, Ella turned to make a pot of coffee. "I don't know. I'm a college graduate. Besides, is Ramones really good mood music?"
Lane scoffed. "For you? Definitely."
"Just happy to have all this education, maybe," Ella said.
Though it had been a whole five days since her graduation, she was still basking in the glow of it. She couldn't believe she had managed to get through school in three years instead of four. It meant the upcoming summer would be her first real break from school since the summer after high school. During her last finals, she had been nearly ready to tear her hair out. Suffice it to say, it was time to stop studying for at least a little while.
"So, I guess we'll be hearing about this summa cum laude thing forever, huh?" Lane teased.
Ella's smile grew wider. "Forever is a strong word. 'The foreseeable future' would be more accurate."
Lane rolled her eyes with a chuckle.
"And what's got you all grumpy today? That's my job. Did a Freaky Friday situation happen without my knowledge?" Ella asked.
Sighing heavily, Lane went back over to the register, seeing some customers finishing up their meals. "I told you my mom wants me to wear her wedding dress, right?"
Ella nodded.
"Well, she finally showed it to me. And it has pants!"
Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella swallowed down the laugh which threatened to leave her lips.
"I gave it to Lorelai. Hopefully something along the lines of salvageable will come of it," Lane grumbled, adjusting her apron anxiously.
"Hey, Lorelai made that renaissance dress I wore to Liz's wedding wearable. I'm sure she'll work her magic," Ella said, turning to see Luke return as the bell over the door jingled.
"We'll see," Lane said, sighing again as a young couple came up to the register, ready to pay for their patty melts.
As Luke approached, Ella saw he had the mail in his hands. He looked almost haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. She knew he and Lorelai had been having some problems, but didn't know the details. It wouldn't be surprising if the new daughter or the prolonged engagement had something to do with it, though. Since she and Rory had fallen out of touch, Ella saw Lorelai less and less. And it wasn't like Luke was a chatterbox.
"Something came for you," Luke said shortly, handing Ella a puffy orange envelope.
As soon as she took it, she could tell it was a book. Confusion painted her features; it wasn't often she got mail addressed to Luke's. She'd been living at Lane's for almost two years. Furrowing her brows, she looked in the upper right corner and her face immediately fell when she saw the familiar, spiky handwriting. Clearing her throat, she plastered on a complacent expression.
"I'm gonna take a fifteen, okay?" she said, clutching the package tightly in her hands.
Luke nodded. "You alright?"
Ella smiled thinly. "Yeah. Just gotta take the smell of the stock room in as much as I possibly can. I've only got it until the end of July."
Rolling his eyes, Luke shook his head. "I'm counting the seconds."
"Hey, I could quit right now! Then where would you be?!" she exclaimed dramatically, a bit which never seemed to get old.
Luke grunted doubtfully. "Don't tease."
Smirking slightly, she finally turned on her heel and went back into the stock room. It was dim, piled high with boxes and cans. But there was the comforting smell of dust and pine, making her feel just a touch less queasy. Sitting on the lone table in the middle on the shelves, her legs dangling over the sides with boots heavy on her feet, Ella stared down at Jess's writing for a moment. It only made sense he would send her something at the diner. He probably had no idea where she lived, if she was still even in Stars Hollow.
Her mind wandered to their last conversation, her night up on the plaid couch, crying. When Jess had called to tell Luke he was back in New York, Luke said Jess had told him to say hello to her. She'd told him to say hello back, a half-hearted message. And she was glad to know his trip had been safe. Glad he had apparently mended fences with Luke. But when she thought of actually speaking to him, hearing his voice, it made her feel sick with nerves. All she could see was his heartbroken expression when she had told him she wouldn't come with him. Hear his pleading. Many times, she had pulled out the small slip of paper with his cell number written on it, had thought about reaching out. But, it simply hurt too much.
And she would have no idea where to begin. He had apologized. And she had rejected him. She didn't regret it, didn't feel bad about what she had said or done. But she knew there would be a shift between them. All the words they spoke would have a whispered 'what if' underneath. It seemed like too much to put him through. Jess probably wouldn't like to hear her voice either, she thought. As angry as she had been before, she just couldn't bear to hurt him anymore. It was more trouble than it was worth. So, each time Luke spoke with Jess, they exchanged fleeting greetings through him. It was impersonal, cold, but, they always knew the other was alive. The deal still stood, even after everything.
Running her finger along the address on the package, written in black permanent marker, Ella felt a storm of emotion brewing within her. Time and distance had been kind; when she thought of him, she didn't think betrayal, she didn't think resentment. Somehow, their final argument had cleansed her of those feelings. He had come back. She had never expected it. But, at least, he had come back for her, even if she didn't exactly want it. Instead of anger, there was only sadness, for months. She had walked around with an aura of gloom. But then, life had gotten busier, and it faded.
Instead, as the pad of her finger curved over his name again and again, she thought of her books, filled with their writing to each other. She thought of his smirk, ever-present when she was around. And his brown eyes, guarded but so often kind. And his fears, shared only with her. And, above all, she thought of him telling her he loved her. With tears running down his cheeks, anxious hands raking through his hair.
Love. That word she had always scoffed at. While she still wasn't one to utter it lightly, she had slowly come around. As the world moved around her, and she was finally away from her childhood home, she began to see it. Luke and Lorelai, mostly. She almost felt silly, having watched a love story unfold before her eyes in the diner for years and years. Perhaps as a teen, she had been too headstrong. Perhaps she had been unable to see how her own fears had stopped her from living the way she wanted to, a pattern she had been able to see so clearly in Lane and Jess. Without the constant reminder of her parents' doomed union, she felt better each day. More open.
But still, she had no idea how to feel about Jess. Surely, he had moved on. She didn't know where he was, what he was doing. Luke had only told her he was doing well. And she had never asked for details. No use in ripping open old wounds. But it seemed the ball wasn't entirely in her court. Jess had made a move. Again. Biting at the inside of her cheek, she heaved a big sigh and ripped open the side of the package. Inside it, she found a book, as she expected.
But her breath caught as she ran her eyes over the black-and-white cover: The Subsect by Jess Mariano. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest and a grin came over her lips before she could stop it. She knew it was only a matter of time. He was a writer. He always had been. As she flipped open the inside cover, a slip of heavy, purple paper fell out. A crease formed between her brows as she took the paper in one hand, eyes gravitating to the words scribbled in pen on the novel's second page.
Before she could begin the handwritten message, she looked to the dedication. A lump formed in her throat. For Eleanor, it read simply. Her hazel eyes shone with glassy tears, and the surreality of the moment hit her like a ton of bricks. Swallowing down the sob which threatened to escape, she turned to the inscription before she could get caught up in her emotions.
I wasn't sure how to tell you about this. But I wanted to let you know somehow, considering it wouldn't have happened without you. And writing in a book seemed like the best way, since it's worked for us in the past. I included an invite to the Open House thing we're having at Truncheon, the place which was stupid enough to publish this. You don't have to come, and I don't expect you to. But, in case you did want to come see what I couldn't have done without you, you're more than welcome.
-Jess
Chewing on her thumbnail, Ella picked up the purple invite and ran her eyes over the address. Philadelphia. She smirked at the coincidence. She could see him there. Always a city boy. And, though nerves coursed through her veins and butterflies flew around in her stomach, she knew immediately that she would soon be seeing the liberty bell.
. . .
Smoothing her hands over her dress, Ella took in a deep breath. Her battered blue station wagon was parked behind her on the street, and for a split second, she thought about running back to it. Driving all the way back up to Connecticut in a continuous three-hour stretch. But she knew there would be at least a few familiar faces inside Truncheon Books. Luke had offered to be a chaperone for some road trip with April's school, and they, of course, were also invited to the open house. Initially, Luke had been wary of them both being away from the diner, but Ella assured him Lane and Caesar could handle it. And, of course, he would have to learn to deal without her by the end of the July. She and Lane would be even when Ella took all the shifts for the week of her and Zach's honeymoon. Yes, Ella's final week as a waitress at Luke's was bound to be grueling.
Biting down on the inside of her cheek, Ella opened the door and entered the publishing house before she could talk herself out of it. The place was crowded, lots of people mingling at a table near the entrance and next to the coat rack. The green walls were lined with art, and the room was filled with warm, richly-toned wood. She hung her bag as her heart sat heavy in her chest. She hadn't realized just how anxious walking into Jess's new world was going to make her. A small smile formed on her face, though, as she scanned the crowd for Luke and April. When she didn't instantly find them, she crossed her arms and walked toward the collection of photographs on a wall near the door. They showed visions of the city: an old newspaper stand, a rusty bike, a group of angry teenagers sat around a statue of Thomas Jefferson. She'd never been good with technology, including cameras, and she envied the photographer who could capture images like these.
Across the room, Jess spotted her. Her blonde waves fell down her back, just past her shoulder blades, shorter than he'd ever seen her hair. There was a tattoo on the back of one of her calves, and one on the inside of her left forearm. She was too far away though, and he couldn't quite make out what they were. As expected, she was dressed only in blacks and greys, her dress checkered with the two colors. And, as expected, her all-black oxfords had no heel. Before he could stop it, a grin crossed his face, and his hand tightened around the half-empty beer bottle he was nursing. Never had he actually thought she would show up. But there she was. Matthew, who stood next to him on the stairs, instantly noticed his friend's change in expression. He followed Jess's eyes, and it dawned on him. Jess didn't talk about the woman he'd dedicated The Subsect to a lot. But the blonde standing before the photography section fit the description Jess had spewed drunkenly on his last birthday almost perfectly.
Matthew raised knowing brows. "Is that her?"
"What?" Jess asked, blinking slightly as he looked away from her and turned back to the co-owner of his business.
Scoffing out a chuckle, Matthew shook his head. "That's the girl, isn't it? The one you wrote the book for."
Breathing a big sigh, Jess took another sip of his drink and nodded slowly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Oh, yeah," Matthew laughed, clapping Jess on the shoulder. "Now's your chance."
Jess snorted a bitter laugh, looking away from his friend and down at his shoes. "There's no chance."
Before Matthew could say anything more, Jess descended the final two stairs. Matthew was still chuckling behind him. No matter how much Chris and Matthew drove him up the wall sometimes, he would always be grateful. They'd published his book. They'd welcomed him into the company before it even existed, into the apartment upstairs. They'd become his family without him even noticing it. And he knew no matter how torn up he would be after speaking with Ella (and he knew he would be, at least a little), they'd get him through it. As they had gotten him through the heartbreak the first time, when he'd shown up on the doorstep of a company he'd heard about through some friends in New York, a company which didn't even have a name, just some printing equipment. Tossing the empty beer in the recycle near the front refreshment table, Jess took another breath in. He could thank her for everything she'd done, then watch her leave without completely crumbling. Maybe if he was confident enough in himself, Jess thought, it would be so.
Walking up next to her, Jess bit down on his bottom lip and shoved his hands in the pockets of his blazer. His palms were sweaty.
"Fancy seeing you here," Jess said, eyes on the photographs. Immediately, he regretted his words. How cliché could he possibly sound? Usually, the nerves didn't affect his mouth. But not around Ella.
Though she startled on the inside, Ella didn't visibly jump. Instead, she cracked a small smile. "And yet, here I am."
"Didn't expect to see you."
"Well," she said, shrugging, "I'm full of surprises."
"Stealing my line, huh, Stevens?" he asked.
Still, they hadn't turned to face each other.
"Funny, I didn't know you had the trademark," she quipped.
"Touché," he said, feigning disappointment.
Smile growing, Ella finally turned to him. "Never thought I'd see Jess Mariano in a suit jacket."
His hair was cut differently, parted and combed. Not as unkempt as it had once been. He had dark, shadowy stubble on his cheeks. Just as any brooding writer would. Underneath his black jacket, he wore a t-shirt with a black-and-white photo of a little girl smoking a cigarette on a beach. Ella thought she recognized it from one of her art classes, but couldn't quite place it.
Chuckling under his breath, Jess built up his courage and faced her. "Yeah, well, I guess corporate America finally got to me."
"I don't know. I think this place feels pretty counterculture," she said, eyes flicking around the room again. "Might as well be in the Haight-Ashbury."
"Coming from you, I feel like that's meant to be an insult," he said.
"Trust me, it's not," Ella replied, with more sincerity than he was prepared for. Before he could interject with some deflection, she continued on. "I mean...this place. It really feels like you. And the book. It was...fuck, Jess, you're really too smart for your own good."
He shook his head, blushing and refusing to meet her gaze. Ella Stevens was still the only person who made him blush nearly every time he spoke to her. "I don't know. If I could do it again, everything would be different."
Ella scoffed. "C'mon, Mariano, you and I both know how amazing it is."
"Whatever you say, Stevens," he said shyly.
"I'll keep complimenting you until you accept that you're a kickass author, who I can definitely tell has a beatnik fetish," she warned, mock severity crossing her features.
Jess rolled his eyes. "Fine. Thank you, Eleanor."
"You're so very welcome," she replied, eyes alight with a teasing, mischievous glint. But, underneath, Jess could tell how genuine she really was. It made his heart ache for her.
After a moment of awkward pause, charged air, Jess pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the table with the refreshments. "You want a beer?"
Ella shook her head. "No thanks. I don't really drink."
"Hm," Jess hummed, eyes narrowing just a touch. The way she'd said it, he could tell there was more. He knew why she didn't drink. He remembered her father smelling of liquor on Thanksgiving day. And he remembered how upset she'd been the morning after she stole her father's tequila. Nostalgia washed over him in a wave, and he was relieved when she took the initiative and spoke again.
"And," she said, gaining a lighter tone once again, "I'm not of legal age yet, anyway."
"Oh, well, I certainly couldn't break the law," Jess said with a furrowed brow. He was always forgetting he was ten months her senior. She had always seemed older.
"Right," she said, nodding along, "you wouldn't dream of it."
Again, an uncomfortable pause began. It made Ella want to grimace. Things had never been so awkward with the two of them, not even when they'd first met. It had always been easy, without the world complicating things for them. Her eyes did another quick sweep of the room.
"Have you seen Luke and April?" she asked.
Jess nodded. "Yeah, you just missed them. They had to get back to the field trip, I think."
Ella nodded back in acknowledgement, though she immediately felt her heartbeat quicken. The idea of Luke and April being there as a kind of safety net was half the reason she'd been brave enough to come. But, she'd had a morning shift at the diner, and the traffic had made it so she had shown up only twenty minutes before the end of the open house. All of a sudden, she felt silly for thinking they would still be there. Silly for showing up at all. In the note, he'd said she wasn't obligated at all. Why had she come again? At the moment, the panicked thoughts were too loud for her to focus on anything else.
"But Luke was here long enough to complain about all the abstract paintings and the spoken word performances," Jess continued, noticing Ella try to grab for a necklace she wasn't wearing, and instead fiddle with a lock of her hair. In all the time he had known her, he had never once seen her without the key hanging from her neck. Not even in bed. But he knew better than to ask about it.
Ella's smile returned, though it was not altogether convincing. "Sounds like him. I think one of the few areas of agreement between the two of you is a natural aversion to poetry."
Jess shrugged. "I don't know. I might finally be coming around." Then, he saw Chris approaching, and felt himself relax. Someone else to act as a buffer. He wasn't quite ready for the words creeping up his throat, begging to get out. "But, my friend Chris is the real poetry guy. He hires all the acts."
He gestured for Chris to come over. Ella raised her eyebrows at the man, tall and blonde and grinning widely. A hyper energy practically radiated off of him. She could tell why he was the one on the business end of things.
"Chris, this is Eleanor," Jess said. "She's an old friend."
"Hey." She extended her hand. "You can call me Ella."
Somehow, Chris's smile grew larger as they shook hands. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," she replied amiably, as their hands broke from each other.
"You have a very firm handshake," Chris commented, towering over her. Jess was tall, but this guy made Ella feel like a Polly Pocket figurine.
She snorted a chuckle. "Um, thanks. Guess those steroids are really paying off."
Jess smirked. Sometimes, he thought Chris was to him as Lane was to Ella. Chris laughed, tickled at her wicked humor, as he called it, but soon his expression grew earnest again.
"Well, it's good to finally put a face on the famous Eleanor," Chris said.
"I'm famous?" Ella asked, titing a teasing nod at Jess, who blushed but didn't have time to explain before Chris cut in again.
"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know the magazine interview went alright. I'm gonna go catch up with the beat poet and make sure everything's squared away," Chris told Jess.
Nodding, Jess glared slightly at his friend, unable to hide his irritation. Chris said once again how nice it was to meet Ella before disappearing back into the central swarm of people, though it was slowly dissipating. The afternoon light outside was slowly morphing from bright to dusky. Evening would soon fall.
Smirking, Ella faced Jess again. He made a pointed effort to avoid her gaze, panic rising up in his throat.
"What is it, Stevens?" he asked, sighing slightly.
She cleared her throat, biting on her bottom lip for a moment. "Nothing. Just didn't realize I was famous around here."
He rolled his eyes, embarrassed. "Well, I did dedicate my book to you."
For whatever reason, the comment caught her off-guard. They both knew he had dedicated it to her. But, she couldn't help but think about how before, Jess would have never been able to admit such a gesture out loud. Hell, at seventeen Jess couldn't even admit fixing the toaster in the diner for Luke.
"Yeah," she said slowly, searching for a witty remark but coming up empty. "Yeah, you did, James Dean."
He faltered for just a moment. She had come, she had called him James Dean. It was confusing, but nonetheless, wonderful. Still, he knew there was no use in getting his hopes up. He would never have her again, he reminded himself. Furrowing her brows, Ella watched his expression fade from a smirk to a small, sad smile. Jess ran a hand over his mouth and tossed an anxious glance over his shoulder before taking a big breath in and blowing it out through his nose.
"Are you nervous?" she asked suddenly, face softening.
Jess nodded self-consciously.
"You don't have to be, Jess. It's just me," she shrugged, gesturing down at herself humbly.
Regaining a touch of composure, Jess raised his eyebrows. "I don't know. You've got bangs and tattoos. New shoes. Doesn't look quite like my Daria."
Ella broke into a full grin, and a warmth swelled in her chest like she hadn't felt in such a long time. Something shifted within her. For a moment, she worried her eyes would fill with tears. But, instead, she only uttered a breathy chuckle. "Don't worry. I think I'll always be your Daria."
Swallowing thickly, Jess echoed her laugh. Then, he looked over his shoulder again, only partly because he wanted to hide his face. He couldn't risk her seeing hope flash across his expression. "Can I show you something?"
"Sure," she said, nodding.
Gently, he grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd of young creatives. The room smelled like weathered books and hot ink. An eclectic variety of bohemian rugs covered the blue tile floor. Maybe it was a little more colorful than she would have initially guessed, but Jess truly looked like he belonged there. People waved and nodded greetings at him as they passed, Jess reciprocating shyly each time. It was refreshing. She had never seen him so in his element before. Something about the way he held himself, confident and relaxed. His hand was warm and familiar.
Eventually, they made it to the far wall, near the staircase and next to the small stage area. A few people sat around on the cushions and beanbags, drinking their beers and writing in small moleskine notebooks. She wanted to snort and roll her eyes at them, but she was simply too happy. The anxiety which had been so nauseating as she hesitated at the door was almost completely forgotten. Because Jess was excited to see her. He had taken her hand. When he disentangled their fingers, he gestured to the wall, with a collection of small frames.
As her eyes roamed over the framed sketches, it took her only a moment to recognize them. They were hers. Nine pictures, all those she'd given to Jess over the years. Jess's car with skeletons in the seats, a screaming woman, a garden filled with snakes. Others she'd handed him in shining moments, lying together in bed, on shift at the diner, sitting in the gazebo with her head on his shoulder. And, in the center, the Hudson River. Drawn on Mother's Day four years earlier, as they sat together on a dirty hill and escaped reality for just one day.
Before she could hold them back, tears stung her hazel eyes. Beside the arrangement of drawings, she saw a small, printed index card stuck to the wall.
Eleanor Stevens
Nine Untitled Sketches
Not For Sale
She breathed out a flabbergasted scoff, the ghost of a smile on her lips when she turned back to Jess. He smirked fondly at the look of pleasant surprise on her face. For a fleeting moment, she looked younger. Innocent in a way she so rarely was, shocked and alive. He missed that look, but hardly realized until he saw it again.
"Jess, I..." she said breathlessly, shaking her head in disbelief and facing the sketches again. Eventually, she gathered herself and found her words. "I had no idea you saved these."
"Of course I did," he said, shrugging as though it were obvious. "I knew they'd be worth millions someday."
She snorted a laugh. "Not likely."
"I'm serious, Stevens. People have been asking about these. But I didn't want to set a price on them or anything, since I didn't have your input," Jess explained, eyes on her as she stared at her own past work.
Ella felt as though she might explode, almost too moved to bear. She sniffed and blinked harshly, unwilling to let the tears actually spill over, especially in public. Her hands were shaking at her sides, and she began wringing them together in front of her.
A few astonished giggles escaped her, and she shook her head a final time before she looked back at Jess. He had grown up, and so had she. But as she locked eyes with him, she felt seventeen again, could practically hear the Interpol song playing in her head. The urge to kiss him came over her, made her skin feel tingly and electric. She swallowed harshly, letting the thoughts fade in her mind. As if he had waited all this time for her. He would surely have a girlfriend. Someone who actually liked Hemingway, who could dance, who didn't have a sailor's mouth and a broken family.
"I don't know what to say." She fought the urge to bite at her nails.
Jess laughed quietly. "I didn't think that was possible."
She rolled her eyes at his teasing half-heartedly.
"You don't have to say anything. I was the one who wanted to say thank you. For everything. I couldn't have done any of this if I hadn't met you," he told her. Jess surprised even himself by being able to maintain eye contact with her.
"You definitely could have," Ella said resolutely.
He smirked. "No use in arguing with you, I know. So we can agree to disagree but..."
Pausing, Jess sighed and ran a hand over his mouth again. He glanced behind him, and could see Chris and Matthew pretending they hadn't been staring at the exchange as they bid people goodbye. There were only a few others left milling around. Jess still almost couldn't believe Ella was standing right in front of him. For two years, he'd imagined what he would say. But, as usual, the sight of her was staggering. Her hazel gaze pierced his scarred heart and immediately all the scripts he'd written disappeared from his head.
"Look, do you...we're going out for drinks after. Me and Chris and Matthew, the other guy we own this place with. I know drinking isn't your thing, though I wasn't planning on getting wasted anyway, and I don't know when you have to go back but...do you wanna come? We can catch up?" he asked, hesitant.
Her small smile spread to a grin, and the dimple shone in her freckled cheek. "Sure, Mariano. I'd love to."
. . .
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback is greatly appreciated!