POKING NORMALCY IN THE BACKSIDE

By Oregano

                Jess Mariano flipped a page from his book, slightly eager to know what happens next.  Books were like that.  He’d read this particular one about fifty times, but there was something wonderful about it that he couldn’t place.  

Jess was aware that something was rustling around in one corner of the shrubs, but he paid no regard for it.   It was probably just some squirrels doing their thing. 

His face slightly scrunched up as an image of two squirrels doing it in front of him entered his mind.  Gross.

He was also quite surprised when Lorelai busted through the plants and collapsed into the water.             

After a whole lot of splashing around and gurgling cries for help, Lorelai regained her composure.  She stood in the middle of the water, drenched to the bones and frowning.

                Jess put his book down beside him and rested his elbows on his legs.  With a raised eyebrow, he spoke calmly against the semi-darkness. 

                “What the hell are you doing, Lorelai?”

                “Did you not hear me cry for help?”

                “What do you need my help for?  The water here only comes up to your waist.”

                Lorelai looked down.  The water was, indeed, rippling just around her own waist.  She sighed and waded towards the little wooden bridge.

                Jess still didn’t help her.  Lorelai was a big girl; she could handle the present situation.

                “What are you doing here, Lorelai?” Jess asked again.

                “I couldn’t sleep, alright?”

                “So you decided to stalk me in the middle of the night instead.”

                Lorelai heaved herself up beside Jess and scowled at him.  His face remained its passivity.  A trace of a grin played around his features for a bit.  Finally, they yielded to his usual smirk.  Lorelai could be quite the nutcase, if given the chance.  It was past midnight.  She was soaking wet, in pizza-adorned pajamas, a thick coat, and pink sneakers. 

                “I wasn’t stalking you,” she said defensively.  “I was walking around town—“

                “In your pajamas…”

                Lorelai groaned.  “Ugh, forget it,” she said as she rose. 

                Jess knew he shouldn’t say anything more.  Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, the book he was reading, or the new hair gel he was trying; but as Lorelai turned to leave, he slowly, against his will, said, “You know I’m sorry, don’t you?”

                Or maybe he just really was sorry.  He gave himself a mental kick in the head using a mental size-13 ski boot.

                Lorelai turned back to him and gave him a weak smile.

                “Yes, I do.”

                Jess let out a breath he knew he was holding for about a month now.  He looked up at Lorelai and gave her a smile that carried the same weakness. 

                He knew that they were both tired of that issue. 

                “You came back for Rory, didn’t you?”

                Oh, God.  Maybe not this issue.  He and Lorelai seemed to have a lot of issues.  That wasn’t good.

                Jess bit his lip and frowned a little.  It was an inaudible answer, but his actions said it all.  Together with the mental ski boot kicking his head, a mental noose wrapped itself around his neck. 

                “She cared about me.  It was a nice change from the ‘Jess is evil’ vibe.”

                Lord Almighty.  Jess would turn into a vegetable before this night was through, the way things were going.

                He stood up to make a fast exit.  Unfortunately, Lorelai, with all her dripping greatness, managed to prevent that.  He slipped on a wet part of the bridge and fell into the water himself.

                Ah, sweet memories.

                Coughing, he stood in the water, as Lorelai had earlier.  Freeing a shudder from his chest, he fought the urge to ask for help.  

                Jess climbed up to land without a word.  He grabbed his book that floated in the water. 

                Lorelai’s lips turned up and her mouth parted into a smile.  A genuine smile.  A smile she only showed to the people she liked.  He saw it frequently, but the recipient of the gesture was never him.  It was always Luke.

                Both of them stood on the bridge, all squishy and wet, looking at each other; one smiling, and one slowly smirking.

                A cricket announced it presence with its shrill noise, and the life long crossfire was forgotten.