Disclaimer: These characters are owned by the WB, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, and Amy Sherman-Palladino.
Author's Note: This is my take on the continuation of Say Something. There are no spoilers. Based on some feedback that echoed some of my misgivings, I have made slight changes to the ending. Thanks to everyone for all of the reviews.
The Luke Box
Daylight gradually breaks outside her window and she is relieved to have made it to the morning. She is not sure she slept. Her mind can't stop processing what happened, and most of all, how many ways in which she has screwed this up. She can't turn off her brain, it just replays events over and over, and no matter how hard she tries she cannot rid herself of the image of Luke's face when he left her at the wedding. She thinks maybe she needs to get back to her routine, bury herself in work for a while. It's time to accept the inevitable and move on. Before getting up, she looks around the room and sees the dress she wore to the vow renewal, and the pain comes back.
She wallows for another moment before pushing the pain aside. She needs to get up and go to the inn and take her life back. She searches the closet for something to wear and suddenly everything is a memory, the ruffled blouse she wore on their first date, the jeans he admired so much, and the sweater he liked because it matched her eyes. She throws those memories on the floor and continues to add to the pile until she is finally able to find an outfit with no particular memories attached. The pile is a reminder, though, and she thinks if she deals with it, things will be easier when she returns from the inn. Just a little cleaning before going to work, she says to herself.
She retrieves a box from the attic and it is quickly filled. She fills another and another. In her mind, she is filling one box, her Luke box. When it starts to seem like it is filling up, she rearranges the contents and makes more room. She doesn't notice her repeated trips to the attic to find more boxes. The trance that she is in allows her to process her belongings with little emotion, making quick judgments about an object's connection to him, before putting it away, or more often, throwing it into a box.
The trance continues for quite a while until her eyes settle on her jewelry box and she slowly opens it, her hands shaking. She finds the earrings and necklace and holds them tightly in her hand. Your grandfather has perfect taste in necklaces and earrings. It's
very important to find a man who can pick out your jewelry. She doesn't realize how tightly she is holding them until the pain in her palm sinks in. She finds a small box and gently tucks the jewelry in, holding back tears as they too go into one of the boxes scattered around the room.
She takes a few deep breaths and continues. A box is filled with his belongings, clothes, toothbrush and razor and soon the room is purged. Almost without realizing it, she is downstairs, sorting through videotapes and DVDs, then evaluating all other items in the room. The trance has returned and she works automatically.
"Mom, mom what are you doing? Mom, are you okay? Mom!" It takes a few tries for Rory's words to rouse her. She looks at her daughter and sees a look of shock. "What are you doing? Why are you packing everything up? You aren't moving, right? Tell me you are not moving!"
"No, I'm just throwing a few things into a box before I go to the inn so that they won't be here to remind me when I get back. I'm almost done. I want to get to the inn before it gets too late." She looks up at Rory curiously, "What are you doing here so early? I thought you had class this morning."
"Mom, it's 1:00."
"No it's not, I just got up a little while ago."
"Mom! It's not morning, and you've got like 15 boxes here."
She blinks a bit, looks at the boxes and lets out a gasp, "Oh."
"Are these your Luke boxes?" Rory asks gently.
"Yeah, I guess so," She says sadly.
"Mom, you packed everything up. Did you leave anything?"
"There are a few videotapes over there."
"A few Disney movies and . . . The Power of Myth? Where have you been hiding that?"
"Oh, give me the Disney movies."
"What? Why?"
"True love and all that." She grabs the videos and throws them in a box.
"Mom, have you had anything to eat? "
"No, can't go there . . . too much him there . . . can't go."
"Let me get you something. I could make you coffee."
She stops, swallows deeply, "No, no coffee. No more coffee." Her voice is strangled as the words come out.
Rory's looks back at her with shock. "You're not drinking coffee anymore?" She nods and Rory hugs her fiercely, "I had no idea it was this bad."
Luke looks at the boxes lined against his wall. Everything is in those boxes. Every tangible reminder of her is packed in those boxes, the blue plaid shirt, the CDs, and the bathroom shelf. But she is still here. Her presence is everywhere, the bright laughing eyes and dark curls, and he can't escape from it. He glances around and sees the cup of coffee he brought up that morning out of habit before being reminded so painfully of the emptiness of his apartment. It is cold now and sits there like the final reminder taunting him. He dumps it in the sink to finally purge her from his home, but as it swirls down the drain he catches its smell and it is her. As the last drop leaves his sink he feels a loss so deep it is physically painful. He makes more coffee just to smell her again and if he closes his eyes he can imagine her there, looking over the edge of the mug at him. When the coffee is finished he pours it into a mug and holds it, breathing in the aroma, pretending for a moment that she is next to him. After a moment, he takes a sip, then another. The bitterness of the coffee matches his mood.
Rory slowly lets go of her and Lorelai looks around the room. "I think it's okay now." She breathes deeply, "I feel better getting all that stuff put away." She looks at Rory to reassure her, then her gaze slides by the window he fixed, the door handle he tightened, and the banister he repaired. She can't get rid of his presence. He is all around her and her chest tightens. "Oh my god, Rory. This whole house . . . Luke box. I have to go."
She runs out the front door to escape the memories. The cool air surprises her and she stops to breathe it in. She can do this, she can go to the inn and do her job. Eventually this will be less painful and she will be able to move without consciously forcing herself.
She heads to the car, ready to return to the inn. The inn where he kissed her. The inn where he first gave flowers to a woman. The inn he invested in. She can't move, cannot force her body to respond. There is nowhere she can go that is not touched by his presence. This town is her Luke box and she can't escape it.