Title: The Day You Come
Author: cgb (luberluber@yahoo.com.au)
Fandom:
Gilmore Girls
Keywords:
Future tense, Luke/ Lorelai
Rating:
G - just like the show!
Disclaimer:
Sherman Palladino is the gal here. And what a "good" gal she is.
Acknowledgments:
Written for my own challenge! Yay! Title stolen from
Powderfinger
- "The Day You Come"
For
Shaye and Anna-moonbar
*
There
is this: knowing that day will come.
On
this day Rory's bus will not return at the end of the day, as it has
always
done - as it still does.
On
this day she will let her go - as she knew she would. On this day she
will
not follow - as she always thought she would.
On
this day she will drive herself home from the bus stop without stopping.
She
will go home alone and close the door on an empty house. She will find
herself
in a room without light and she will look at the curtains and wonder
how
she ever bought herself a shade of beige that resembled her mother's
carpet.
She
will make plans. She will spend her day being busy (she is always
busy!),
being productive, being the kind of person that gets things done,
proving
over and over again that she can keep a household.
She
won't remember, won't let herself remember that it isn't necessary now.
She'll
find herself like this - falling back on habit, doing what comes
easily.
She'll tell herself these are all good things.
She
won't go out at night. She won't answer the phone, won't hear it ring.
She
will watch the television making shadows on the beige curtains that she
can no
longer stand. She'll find beer and left over pizza in the fridge and
she'll
drink and eat and wish she could drink more although she'll tell
herself
she doesn't need to.
She
will tell herself that she doesn't need to think about it. She will tell
herself
all the right things: that she is okay, that she is better than okay
- that
she is happy.
She
won't be able to sit still so she will tell herself she is tired. She
will
tell herself it's been a long day. She will tell herself she needs a
long
shower and an early night.
Later,
she will try to sleep. She will lie awake in her bed watching the red
numbers
on her bedside clock and listening for a sound, any sound that isn't
the
sound of her heartbeat and its unrelenting rhythm.
She
will hear the creak of the beams in the roof that shift when the wind
blows
hard and she will take comfort in this and the sound of leaves
scraping
the drainpipe.
She
will listen as she watches the numbers change - 15, 16, 17, 18... 45,
46,
47, 48.
And
then she will know what he knows: that on this night, at the end of this
day,
she won't sleep.
She
will find her shoes and her coat and her car keys and she will be
outside
with the wind, pulling the hair out of her eyes and missing her
footing
on the driveway.
She
will drive. She will miss the stop sign before the town square and she
will
take the corners too fast. She will remind herself to watch road and
she
will tell herself to slow down. She won't listen but she'll keep telling
herself
like a mantra until she stops.
She
will stop at the diner. She will pound on his door and she'll call out
his
name and she won't have to wait because he will be expecting her.
Because
he knows: that this day will come.
And on
this day, she will too.
Fin