Other Girls of Gilmore Girls: The Lindsay Lister Story

Chapter 25

View Along: S4 E22 Raincoats & Recipes & S5 E1 Say Goodbye to Daisy Miller

Abby had probably stopped Dean and I from having an argument that night. We all slept soundly, woke up, and had breakfast at Luke's Diner. Dean was friendly throughout. We sat at a table a bit too small for the three of us, and Luke asked how things were going. Said he hadn't seen Dean in a while. Dean said he had been busy, and Luke said the same.

"But I forgot to tell you who I did see," Abby whispered as soon as Luke walked away. "Jess. Jess was in town last night, and I saw him on my way over."

"I don't want to hear about that idiot!" Dean stormed. It was a quick and angry response. There was hurt somewhere in there. He couldn't still be jealous of Jess? After all this time? Dean folded his arms. "Forget it," he said. Abby looked away the entire time, probably nervous because she brought it up. I caught her eye and gave her a worried look.

By the time our food came out, Dean was able to carry on a pleasant conversation again.

***

Dean's work at the Dragonfly Inn was nearly over. They were going to be opening soon, and Lorelai was hosting a trial run for friends. I was hoping she would invite Dean and me to stay in one of the rooms. It would be as close to a vacation as we could get, but Lorelai never invited us. Instead, Dean would have to work throughout the day and night. I brought him lunch, taking the time to carefully wrap the sandwich and bake fresh cookies in the morning. We were going to be like the married couple on TV. If I did my part, he would come back to normal.

"They don't even have doors on the rooms," he whispered to me as we ate together. When I was angry, I stopped bringing him lunch, so we stopped having these conversations. We would be better off with these lunches and talks. I raised my eyebrows. They were having guests tonight without doors? "It might be a late one," he told me. As if that would be any different. I nodded. Dean looked down at his food; his hair covering his eyes. It wasn't the best moment for us, but at least he wasn't mad. There was something sad, but if I tried hard enough, I could probably think of ways to cheer him up. To cheer us up. "Ok, well I'm going back to work," he sighed and slid away from the table.

I headed home and sat down at my sewing machine computer desk, trying to figure out what to write. I had readers. I checked the stats, and I was getting nearly 2,000 readers a day. How was that possible? There were 50 comments on my last post about my unhappy husband. So many woman telling me that they love how I'm trying out recipes and failing sometimes. That I am trying out life and failing sometimes. They were the same. I was going to sit there until I had something to write to them.

Instead, I ended up going to my parents' house for dinner. I didn't want to be alone, and I could pretend like I lived there again for a bit. We sat down at the familiar table, where I had each worn spot and scratch memorized. Then my mom told me it was time to sell grandma's house. "What? No," I protested, feeling tears swell under my eyes. "Not yet."

"We have to at some point, right? It's been so long for that lovely house to sit empty."

I was quiet. I couldn't talk about this without crying or yelling, and only for childish reasons. I wanted to be able to go over there and have my grandma welcome us, to celebrate holidays in the warm way I had as a child, and to feel that feeling of family. But grandma wasn't there. None of it was there.