One-Shot: Medina

The sun was beginning to poke through the overcast clouds. The temperature was peaceful, a crisp 75, as Rory Gilmore hurried into the coffee shop in Hartford. It had been an Indian fall following an Indian summer, but last night had brought some much needed rain over the state of Connecticut. As for the coffee shop, Rory didn't frequent it as much; her mother Lorelei used to whilst taking business classes here when Rory was a young girl. But, Rory needed to get away from her office, and that meant departing her beloved hometown of Stars Hollow, if only for a few hours.

It wasn't as though the Stars Hollow Gazette was a stressful environment. On the contrary, there was something very cocooning about working in an office with only two other people - an old guy who slept in his chair more than he worked (Charlie) and a lady who could keep quiet except when she was "filing something" (Esther).

After Rory had ordered, she took a seat by the window. There was something about the overcast clouds that gave her peace, a calm after the thunderstorm - and an explosive argument with Lorelei the night before. Luke had needed to pull his girls apart.

Just then, she felt someone approach her table. "Rory Gilmore? Is that you?"

Rory turned to the familiar voice. She was surprised to find its owner was much older than she had expected.

"Mr. Medina?"

Her former English teacher from Chilton smiled. "Please, call me Max." He indicated the woman standing next to him. "This, uh... is my wife... Susan."

Rory shook the woman's hand politely, remembering how his wife could have easily been her own mother in another lifetime.

"He's told me so much about you. You're one of his favorite students."

The compliment reminded Rory of something, and she inquired of Max, "I was at the Chilton alumni visit a couple of months ago. Several, actually. I was sure I'd run into you in the halls!"

Max chuckled. "I've been retired for about four years now. But, how are you? A journalist, I hope?"

Rory's face fell. "It worked well for a while, but I've been making a change recently. I'm the editor for the Stars Hollow Gazette, and writing a memoir by night. It's about my mom and me."

"How wonderful!" Max said, but even behind this, Rory could sense... disappointment. It wasn't anything in his voice, or even in his face. It was behind his eyes. Rory had seen that look before from people who meant well, who wouldn't dare to make their disappointment explicit - like Ms. Patty or Babette - but still felt it. Those eyes communicated a lot. You poor, poor thing, they seemed to be saying. You could have done so much better.

And it only got worse when Rory felt the need to report, "I'm also expecting a baby. I just found out!"

Relief seemed to flood Max's eyes. "Well, that will prompt a career change faster than anything else! I didn't know you were married! Is your husband in the restroom? I would love to meet him!"

"Oh no. I'm... not married," Rory all but whispered. "The father... his hands are tied."

And there came the disappointment again, the way that only a teacher could convey. Behind the eyes.

You could have done so much better.

He would have been right, of course. Rory could have done much better. Here she was, just another casualty sacrificed upon the altar of that false god known as Lost Potential. She was reminded of her classmate, Marty, announcing in a recent Yale alumni newsletter that his young son had been diagnosed with Autism. Rory was sure, in a moment like that, one would mourn as if somebody had died. Mourn the person that might have been. Rory was certain that this mourning was what her old teacher was embarking on now.

The reaction to her pregnancy had been... mixed at best. Most had been sympathetic but almost to the point of pity, while others had been downright negative. One of the worst cases was reported by Emily, who ranted to Lorelai (instead of at her) about how she sent several friends from Nantucket United Methodist Church into a dead faint when she had announced that her granddaughter was expecting out of wedlock. Rory would have thought that to employ the last phrase was too much information, but Emily Gilmore was a very honest person. What had concerned the old matriarch was the dramatic reaction her otherwise simple statement (however life-altering) had elicited. Smelling salts had to be used to revive the women. It seemed more suitable for such a remedy to be employed in churches further south, but Rory had tried to brush it off as comical. Unserious. As most behaviors coming out of any organized religion were being caricatured these days. And perhaps her grandmother's concern that a simple announcement could garner such offense was a good thing. She had been honest, and though she was of an older generation, she seemed to be seeing the insincere elitism - the prudeness - that she and her late husband had basked in and bought into for so many years. There were many things to take offense at, even painful truths, yet there were so many things been bandied about these days that were equally abhorrent but not true at all. In fact, they were lies. And as recent weeks had shown, it was about to get a lot worse.

None of this meant that the story had not stung. Rory could feel the judgement coming from everyone - whether prominently displayed or just beneath the surface. Even if people were trying to help, none reserved judgement. The only exceptions had been her mom and her stepfather, Luke. Paris might reserve judgement (she was one of the few people Rory hadn't told yet), though there was a time when she would have melted under the withering gaze of the take-no-prisoners shark known as Paris Geller.

Rory said goodbye to Max and Susan and proceeded to her car after paying the bill. A light drizzle was now coming down, and as she sped along the highway towards Stars Hollow and back to the Gazette, it turned into a downpour.

Rory mused as she went along. The post as editor of the Gazette was fine enough for now, but once the baby was born... she would have to find a job with a higher paycheck. And quickly. She could still work in her memoirs by night, after her son or daughter had gone to sleep, but during the daytime... And then childcare... She couldn't ask either of her parents (and by them she meant Lorelai and Luke) to take even some of it on; they had jobs too. Maybe she could reach out to Christopher, her biological father, but he had finally grounded himself in his own family business, and she didn't want to disrupt that.

She turned on the radio in the hopes that it would clear her thoughts, but it only made things worse. A Rascal Flatts ballad came on:

"I got off track, I made mistakes, backslid my way into that place where souls get lost, lines get crossed, and the pain won't go away. I hit my knees; now here I stand. There I was; now here I am: changed! I've changed for the better, more smiles, less bitter! I've even started to forgive myself..."

After a bit, the song shifted. Upon hearing the second, Rory had to admit it was an odd mashup, for there was a clear theme present, but she had heard more jarring mashups from the Yale acapella groups:

"There's been a change in me. A kind of moving on. Though what I used to be, I still depend upon. For now, I realize that good can come from bad. That may not make me wise, but oh, it makes me glad! And I, I never thought I'd leave behind my childhood dreams, but I don't mind! For now I love the world I see. No change of heart - a change in me. For in my dark despair, I slowly understood my perfect world out there had disappeared for good. But in its place, I feel a truer life begins! And it's so good and real, it must come from within!"

The tears began to stream down Rory's cheeks. Alan Menken was a true genius - and in her opinion, underrated. She had loved the Disney movie musicals with her mom when she was a kid. In her one Music Theory and Composition class at Chilton, she had strived to emulate Menken. She barely passed the class, which Rory counted as one of her greatest failures, perfectionist that she was. Or used to be. She didn't know anymore.

Yet a third song came on, also from a movie musical, though not Disney and lesser known:

"I thought I did what's right. I thought I had the answers. I thought I chose the surest road but that road brought me here. So I put up a fight, and told you how to help me, and just when I had given up, the truth is coming clear: You know better than I. You know the way. I've let go the need to know why. For you know better than I. If this has been a test, I cannot see the reason. But, maybe knowing 'I don't know' is part of getting through. I've tried to do what's best, and faith has made it easy, to see the best thing I can do is put my trust in you. For you know better than I..."

Rory was sent over the edge. She began to sob so hard that she had to pull over to the side of the road. Sometimes, you needed a good cry. Then maybe she could return to her work and beloved hometown with some new semblance of dignity. And maybe even a little hope.

Rory's eyes were still all puffy and red when she pulled up to Number 37, Maple Street. She had spent the afternoon at the Gazette listening to those three songs on her phone as she worked. Her stepfather, Luke Danes, was waiting for her on the front porch. It was a beautiful fall evening. He raised a brow at her state.

"Radio. It can knife you if you're not careful," Rory hicupped as she tried to explain her emotional state away.

Luke looked his stepchild up and down. "Any marks?" He asked, dryer than dry, but then again, that was how her stepfather interacted with most people. Very few got to see the tender side of Lucas Danes, a list that pretty much included his new bride, his stepdaughter, his biological daughter April, his nephew Jess, and (more recently) his mother-in-law. Three Gilmores, a Mariano, and a Nadiri. An elite group indeed.

Biting back a smile, Rory shook her head as she entered the house. She had to place a call. She was pleased when her friend picked up; the kids must have already taken those God-awful three flights of stairs up to bed.

"Paris? There's something I need to tell you, but I need you to be open-minded. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Paris agreed - the gentlest reply she had ever heard from the cold-as-steel classmate Rory had come to respect.

"... I'm pregnant."

A moment of silence. Then: "Congratulations. I wish I could say I was in on helping you make the little muffin cake, but c'est la vie."

Rory grinned. Good old Paris.

"Is it...?" Paris need not give a name; she was already well-versed on the situation.

"Yes," Rory confirmed. What happened next was no smelling of failure, the way she had rattled off to Jess in the Gazette office that summer day.

"You will receive no judgement from me. Only love and support."

"Thanks, Paris. Good night." And Rory hung up.