Other Girls of Gilmore Girls: The Lindsay Lister Story

Chapter 18

View Along: S4 E7 The Festival of Living Art

"Lindsay?" Dean was hovering over me in bed. It was still dark.

"What time is it?"

"Early. I am going to work. I need to apologize. Will you be here when I get home?"

I nodded. Of course I would be there. Every day I woke up, picked things up, started laundry, prepared meals, cleaned up, and sat around. Maybe take a walk. While Dean was booked end to end with work and school, I had expanses of time. I was looking forward to an apology, however.

During my walk that afternoon I saw signs all over for the Festival of Living Pictures. It was a free event and would make a great date. I could prepare a picnic for us to have before. I would just have to figure out what to make.

When Dean got home, I suggested we go to the Festival of Living Pictures that weekend, and he said maybe. Maybe? I couldn't ask him about it because my mom showed up to help with dinner. We were going to make pork chops with a creamy sauce and mashed potatoes. It looked so comfortable on the plate; I took pictures real quick when my mom's back was turned. She stayed for dinner that night and on her way out she turned around at the door. "Oh! I almost forgot. We got a great deal on a family plan." She pulled two cell phones out of her purpose. "For you two."

She left and Dean flipped the phone over in his hand. "She got us cell phones?"

"It's a good deal? We needed them anyway. Everyone has them."

"I can pay for our cell phones."

"I know. She's just being nice," I retreated a little. "I'm going to finish cleaning," I said, looking for an escape even though the kitchen was only four steps away. As I rubbed bubbles around on a pot, I realized Dean was gone.

The next day, he didn't want to go to the festival, so I sat on the couch ready to turn the TV on to pass the time. It had been a boring, boring day. Even dinner was quick to cook. Then I remembered Dean disappearing. If he could vanish on his own, so could I. I stood up. "Well I'm going by myself then," I said, and I walked out the door.

The Festival of Living Pictures was beautiful. People dressed up like famous paintings and froze in place for us to watch. There was a gelato cart at the event, and I decided to treat myself. A girl close to my age with short, dark hair asked me if I knew what I wanted. "Well that's a big question that I haven't been able to answer since I was five," I quipped. She laughed. "Take your time," she replied.

I scanned the menu. "Sure isn't chocolate or vanilla," I was lost in the list of names like dulce de leche and amarena. "I feel like something smooth, but fruity. Nothing citrus or, you know," I couldn't find the word.

"Not a harsh fruit. I get it. We do have regular old peach?"

"I'll take it. Have you been been able to watch the festival at all?"

"Yes!" The girl took my money and someone else handed me the tiny cup of gelato. "I love it because you both want them to stay perfectly still while also wanting them to flinch. I'm Erica," she introduced herself.

"Lindsay," I replied.

"This is my fiancé, David."

"I'm married, too!" I shouted, excited for someone else to understand.

"Oh cool. His parents own the gelato place, but we are working for them until we get our own thing off the ground."

"An ice cream thing or...?"

"Well, we were thinking maybe a farm? We participate in a co-op and love it. We are having a sustainability conference next week in Woodbridge. Here." Erica dug a flyer out of a box behind her and handed it to me.

I looked at her and said I would try to make it. I think I just made new friends and had something to do the following week. I was likable and friendly and busy.

When I got home, Dean was sleeping, so I headed to that good old antique sewing table and turned on the computer. It was time to start writing about the pork chops.

||||     Known for easily getting dry, my mom had to direct me to protect the chops. It seems that many things in life get dry easily. Stale. The ever-comforting pork chop can turn on you, and then what are you left with? ||||

I embedded the pictures of our comforting meal.

I never got my apology.