Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
LUKE'S DINER STILL SMELLED the same as Quinn remembered. The fragrance of greasy french fries and sizzling bacon wafted toward her nose, nostalgia exploding in her chest.
"Quinn!" The woman turned at the voice, which happened to be Caeser's.
"Hey, Caesar," Quinn smiled, giving him a small wave. "How are you?"
"I'm doing good, how about you?"
"I'm okay," Her face fell slightly. She was not okay, in any sense of the word, and even though she knew that she didn't have to hide it from these people; her closest friends and family, the people she loved, she couldn't let them worry about her.
The man was clueless, grinning as he continued to traipse around the diner grabbing plates and cleaning tables.
Luke Danes emerged from the kitchen, face lighting up at the sight of Quinn's signature purple cardigan. "Hey, kiddo!" Luke had a rough exterior, but deep down, he was one of the best men Quinn had ever met. He cared and loved so much, and she couldn't help but thank him internally for teaching his nephew to do the same.
"Hi, Luke," Quinn hugged him, the rough flannel that covered his frame bunched up in her fingertips.
"Jess didn't tell me you two were visiting,"
"Well," Quinn began, sighing and taking a seat at the counter. "I came alone."
"What?" He was grabbing plates and cups, but he was still listening.
"Things on the art front aren't doing too well," she exhaled, head in her hands. "Nobody wants to buy my paintings; the only offer I've gotten was from some gallery in a trashy tourist town in Florida. Is it really that bad? Am I really still drowning in student loans for this?" She had graduated summa cum laude at Rhode Island. She had worked her ass off to create works that meant something. Could she have regressed that much?
"Hey," Luke pressed, causing Quinn to look up at him. "Your artwork is good. It takes time. Monet didn't just become famous overnight."
"The thing is," Quinn began, playing with the salt shaker on the table. "I have a part-time job at Macy's. I work in my studio the rest of the time I have, and then I ride the subway home with a can of pepper spray in my purse because New York transit at two in the morning does not feel safe. Jess is in Philadelphia every other weekend. We're both struggling to pay the rent."
"Things seem good with you two, though," he gestured to the band on her finger, and ruby rose to her cheeks.
"Yeah," Quinn beamed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "That's about the only good thing right now." Talking about him always made things seem less grey.
Luke smiled, knowing that Quinn truly did make Jess happy; happier than Rory ever had. "Do you want something to eat?"
"Yeah, I'm starving!" Quinn giggled. "The last time I ate was last night. It took me practically three hours to get out of the Manhattan traffic. Hamburger and fries?" Luke nodded.
------------------
"Surprise!" Mandy Ellis practically jumped in the air at the sound of her daughter's voice, but clamped a hand over her own mouth at the sight of Quinn. The house still looked the same; a bit messy, the peach-colored walls covered with photographs; Quinn as a baby, Christmas photo-shoots, her mother and father's wedding reception in the Stars Hollow town square. Her family led such normal, complacent lives. And in a way, she wish she did too. She'd always wanted out of Stars Hollow, away from the normalcy of a small town. She wanted big, bustling cities, walking through streets that looked like craters compared to the towering skyscrapers. She didn't want to know everyone.
Now that she'd gotten away, however, all she wanted was to get back to the smallness of it all. She had lived in a little bubble up until college, and she'd liked it that way. Hell, her fiancé was a guy she'd met when she was seventeen.
Her mother tackled her into a hug, and Quinn held on for dear life. "Oh, sweetheart! I'm so glad you're back."
"Hey, mom," Quinn beamed. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," Mandy pursed her lips. "What brings you back to little old Stars Hollow?"
"I need inspiration," Quinn took a seat on the old lumpy leather couch that had been her grandmother's; the same couch her father had begged her mother to get rid of, the same one that her mother could not get rid of because there were too many memories of her parents who had passed away some years ago.
"Inspiration here, when you have Manhattan?" Her mother took a seat next to her. Quinn almost felt like crying, looking at the grey hairs poking through the dark ones and the wrinkles running like rivers down her face.
"I'm not very happy with Manhattan right now," she chuckled humorlessly. "I look out at the skyscrapers, and I feel like crying. I just thought that maybe coming back here would give me some inspiration for my art. Maybe getting away from it all is good."
Her mother nodded, rubbing her daughter's back. "I understand, sweetheart. Things don't always go the way we planned. It'll work itself out." The truth was, her mother didn't know what to say, but she was trying, and Quinn appreciated it.
"I think I'm gonna go call Jess," she stood, fixing her cardigan. "Let him know I got back safe."
Her mother nodded, smiling. "He makes you happy, right?"
"Really happy," Quinn couldn't hold back the wide smile that formed in her face.
Quinn Ellis' old room was just the same as it had been when she was a teenager. The old record player still sat on the scratched up wooden desk in the corner, her crate of Fleetwood Mac and Rolling Stones records sitting next to it collecting dust. The walls were still painted navy, various movie posters and her huge framed map of Manhattan hanging loosely on them. Her bed was still covered in the blue floral sheets, and a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird still sat on her nightstand from her last visit months ago. The vanity mirror was covered in photographs; Quinn and Rory, Quinn and her grandparents, Quinn and her cousin Mae from Florida. She gently ran a fingertip across one of her and Jess, from the day she'd left for college.
Her bookshelf remained empty, however, most of the novels that used to be stacked among the wooden boards were now in her apartment in Chelsea. She always kept a copy of The Subsect at home and in the city, and it sat lonely on the middle shelf.
She took it all in, realizing how different things felt, and she couldn't help but think that if she could go back to being seventeen, she would.
