Other Girls of Gilmore Girls: The Lindsay Lister Story

Chapter 23

View Along: S 4 E 18 Tick Tick Boom

On the walk home from Doose's, I started to run. My feet hit slapped flat against the ground. Slap, slap, slap against the pavement. My footsteps sometimes echoing up the tall buildings of downtown Stars Hollow. I turned onto the block where our apartment was. I stopped to catch my breath. What do I do all day? What do I do all day?

I mean, what do I do all day?

I'm supporting my husband, who supports me, who seems sad and far away right now. I go to the market and buy food and write blog posts. People come to my anonymous page on the internet to hear my story. I love. And when I don't feel like loving, I at least try. That's what I do all day.

I shook my head. I had to get Rory out of it. Who was she to make me second guess myself? I walked the rest of the way home.

I was still going to make something in one pot. Screw her. She wasn't messing this up for me. Not today. I flung cabinet doors all the way open and slammed them shut again. The pot hit our stove and rattled right off to the ground. I picked it up. I would have to calm down and center myself.

In the fridge I had some leftover pulled chicken. Perfect, that would give me a head start. Sometimes, when you are angry, you don't feel like extra work. That was it!

I ran to my computer and hurried it along with a whisper of urgency as it started it up. I began a new blog draft:

||||     Sometimes, when you are angry, you don't feel like extra work. That's why I'm starting off with leftover pulled chicken. Oh, you want to know what made me angry? I'd love to tell you. But as soon as I am done with that, I want us both to remember that we aren't going to cook in rage, because our food is our love. We are doing this one pot today, because one pot, one bowl, one love. So let me get to that point by telling you what's going on. I'll drop it all here and then replace my rage – my absolute rage – with something better. Love and a one pot meal. Ready friends? ||||

I ended up putting the pulled chicken in a pot along with an onion, half a green pepper I had left over from the other day, a can of tomatoes, some barbeque sauce, literally any other random odds and ends that I had, a squeeze of honey, and I let the thing simmer. I called it empty-the-house barbeque chicken chili. Scorch the earth and start over chili.

It wasn't lunch time, and it wasn't dinner time. The good thing about chili is that it can sit and wait for the right time. I went back and added the line to my blog post. I took pictures of the pot full of slowly bubbling chili.

How did Rory know how Dean felt about the townhouse?

Wait. Did Rory know about dropping out of school and the townhouse from her mom because Dean worked in her inn every single day? That could be it. But how would Rory know how Dean felt about it unless he told her?

When Dean came home, he took a sniff and exclaimed: "Wow! What is that?" The chili was a hit; he had three bowls. As the warmth of dinner helped Dean get comfortable, I sat across from him. "When did you tell Rory about the townhouse."

"What?"

"Today, Rory slammed me in public."

"She did what?"

"She was rude. She called me selfish. She insulted everything I do each day, but she also was running her mouth about what she knows about your feelings. So Dean, how does she know about your feelings?" The words came out and surprised me. How did I get so tough? Dean sputtered and spat and couldn't get a sentence out. He slammed a hand on the table. "Damn, it's not. It's not even like I told her anything. Her mom had me drop a bookcase off at her dorm. I dropped it off, told her about school, and I yelled at her. I yelled at Rory."

"You yelled at Rory?"

"Yeah! I told her she was out of line. I insulted her if anything. She was probably just mad at me for losing my temper. You know how she is. She can't stand it when everyone isn't automatically on her side. I wasn't on her side, and she got so mad at me that she ran her mouth about you. Jerk. Trying to hurt you like that." Dean ran a hand through his hair; it was getting so long now. I grabbed his hands in mine. It made so much sense. She had probably been jealous of me since Dean and I started dating. I kissed him, pulling myself, and my chair, closer to him. He pulled me even closer, so I hopped on his lap. Everything about him was so solid and strong. He pulled back, looked me in the eyes, and embraced me in silence. We sat there like that, his warmth and breadth supporting me. "Touch me," I whispered, and he obeyed. We were frantic. Everything was heavy and sweaty. My body knocked against the table from time to time, sliding it across the floor. Dean bit my shoulder as he cried out, and I kept myself pressed against him. I finally lifted myself off of his lap. I reached for my pants.

"I don't want you talking to Rory anymore. Friendly hellos and goodbyes, but nothing else. Don't tell her a thing about us."

"What? No!" he protested.

"No?"

"Not like, no, Lindsay, not like that. It' just we live in the same town. I work at her mom's inn. I can't promise never to talk to her again. She's... around."

"So? After what she said about me? To me? She's your ex and she hates me. It's inappropriate. It's weird."

"You're right," Dean sighed. He stood up and pulled his pants on the rest of the way. "It's weird. I know. I need some air." Then he walked out the door.

I ran to our front window and looked down at the street to watch him walk away. It was a fast walk. Angry. Upset. In a minute the darkness of the night hid him from me. I left the bowls on the table and headed straight for my computer.

||||     My husband is not happy. ||||

I was laying on the couch when Dean came home. He muttered something about apologizing and went right to bed. I sat alone on the couch for an hour and a half, then I finally cleaned up after dinner.