She and Grayson had been in the diner. He was smiling at her like she was the only person in the world. She looked down at their intertwined fingers but gradually his fingers became hotter and hotter until they were burning her hands, her skin blistering at his touch, but she couldn’t let go of him. When she looked up at him, his face was engulfed in flames, but she could still see his big smile through the fire. Orange flames licked at his hair and his clothes until he became ash. Then he was in Trafalgar Square, and then the theatre, and then Charlatans, and each time the flames took him over, consuming him until he was no more.
There was a gentle tap on her door. ‘Lorelai?’ her father called. He opened the door and peered inside. ‘Are you OK? I heard a noise.’
‘I’m fine, Dad,’ Lorelai said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘It was nothing.’
He frowned. ‘You’re sure? It sounded like you were screaming.’
Lorelai’s laugh sounded hollow to her ears. ‘No, no, it wasn’t me. Honestly, Dad, I’m fine. Go back to sleep. Goodnight.’ She settled back onto her pillows and hoped her father would take the hint.
David hesitated and gave her a long look. ‘Night, night, sweetheart,’ he said eventually. He closed the door gently, the frown still on his face.
Lorelai rubbed her eyes. She had wanted nothing more than her father’s comfort, but it was too much too soon. The idea, though, that seeking solace in her parents was something within her reach gave her a glimmer of hope. She had heard people say they were going ‘home, home’, before but she’d never truly understood what it meant to return home,home. Before now, Lorelai had never had a desire to return home. Ever since she had discovered what she could do all those years ago, she’d pushed her parents away. Every time her mother had showed an interest in getting closer to her and being part of her life, Lorelai had created even more distance between them, to keep them from getting too close to her horrible truth.
She now suspected that her mother would be heartbroken if she found out how long she had been keeping such a huge secret, that she had slowly been collapsing under the burden. Joanie might not have been on the money with everything she’d said but she had been right about trying to talk to her parents more. Lorelai had started feeling better since she’d been spending more time with her mother and father. She wasn’t dancing in the street, but she was beginning to snatch a few seconds of peaceevery now and again. It was a small step, but a step in the right direction, nonetheless.
She had always felt like a ticking time bomb when she was with her parents. The more time she spent with them, the more she feared she might explode and reveal her secret. She’d always thought it for the best if she saw and spoke to them as little as possible but, in doing so, she had denied them all a meaningful relationship with one another. All because she had been scared. Could this be the relationship that one day might be strong enough to withstand her curse? She had decided after the walk with her mother that it wasn’t too late. While she wasn’t ready to let them into the depths of her darkness right away, which was why she was keeping her nightmares to herself, she could begin opening up about other aspects of her life. Like her job, her life in London, Joanie. Coming home,homehad been her only option when she’d been at her lowest, and now it felt like the thing that might just save her.
For the first couple of days after her surprise arrival, Lorelai had stayed tucked away in her room. She called Wesley and cashed in all the holiday she had left, which amounted to three weeks’ worth. He wasn’t thrilled about it but was understanding that she was going through a hard time and agreed to her request, given the way she had helped Riggs. She’d also had to miss the first movie screening of her Page to Screen club. Initially, she had wanted to cancel or at least postpone, but everyone had been so excited about it that Lorelai had agreed, via Wesley, to let Joanie host it in her place. Her parents only disturbed her to let her know dinner was ready and for the occasional cup of tea. Slowly but surely, though, her perimeter expanded to includethe kitchen. She’d stand at the top of the stairs, listening out to make sure no one was moving, and she would dart back to her room if she so much as heard a floorboard creak. Her parents knew not to push her, and she’d always be grateful to them for that. She had come to them in her own time and that felt better than forcing a confrontation.
The thing that finally drew her downstairs in the end were the cats. Three glorious cats that liked to be held and cuddled and kissed and fussed over. One day, her parents had popped out to the shops, and Lorelai had lost track of time as she’d played with Huey, Dewey and Louie. So much so that she had still been running around after them when her parents had returned. Lorelai couldn’t flee back upstairs without looking horribly rude, so she’d endured the small talk and tentative questions, and to her surprise she’d enjoyed the evening. The next day she had gone on the walk with her mother, and that had been the final leap.
In the days that followed, she had found more opportunities to be in their company. She’d come to see how much they loved her, and each other. The walls Lorelai had built up were starting to crumble, and although she was terrified of what her parents might say, she wondered if she could show them who she truly was. With that thought, she rolled over, and closed her eyes, hoping that her sleep would be without nightmares.
The loft hadn’t been touched since Lorelai’s grandmother had died. Sylvia had kept albums stuffed full of photographs, one for each year of their lives and so the boxes were never-ending.There were knick-knacks and trinkets whose sentimental value had died with Sylvia, but they still held her grandmother’s essence somehow. Lorelai wasn’t sure where to begin, nor how her mother expected them to get rid of any of it. The photographs held too many memories to be thrown away. There was no way Lorelai could bring herself to do such a thing. She understood why her mother had let everything gather dust for six years. That was infinitely easier than the pain of feeling her grandma so close and not being able to see, hear or hold her. Lorelai began sifting through a box of her grandmother’s old Christmas decorations and thought about her own collection of accumulated tat and where it would land if she kicked the bucket. She almost laughed at the idea of Joanie looking into a cardboard box of cheap rubbish that Lorelai deemed utterly worthless, but deciding to hold onto it because Joanie would feel awful tipping it into a bin. Lorelai was sure her grandmother was laughing athernow, from wherever she was, and suddenly getting rid of a few of her bits and pieces felt manageable. Not the photographs though. Lorelai would have to find somewhere special for the photo albums.
‘She sure liked a disposable camera, didn’t she?’ Lila said, popping her head up through the loft hatch. ‘Tea?’ She held out a bright-yellow mug with daisies on it. The loft was so cold Lorelai could see the steam rising up from the tea, curling around her mother’s face.
‘Please!’ She leaned over and took the mug from her mother. ‘How many photographs do you think are here, altogether?’
‘Thousands and thousands,’ Lila grunted, heaving herself up through the hatch and perching on the edge. The house creakedbeneath her and they both paused for a moment, wide-eyed, until they were certain she wasn’t about to crash through the ceiling.
‘What are we going to do with them?’ Lorelai picked up an album and settled it onto her lap. She opened it carefully, revealing photographs of her grandparents in their thirties, she guessed, standing in front of the distant Eiffel Tower holding ice creams, the sunshine creating glares on the image.
‘Ah, it looks worse than it is. There’s maybe two or three albums in each box and then a lot of other junk. We’ll get rid of the junk and box up the albums and then see where we’re at.’
Lila beckoned for a box and together they began to sort the treasure from the trash. After far too much silence, Lorelai opened her Spotify app and settled on a playlist entitled ‘Chill’. It was calm and relaxing, the perfect soundtrack as they worked. Occasionally they’d share a cute photo or try to guess what some obscure item was that made no sense to either of them, but mostly mother and daughter were in their own worlds, lost in their individual memories of Sylvia. Lorelai wanted to talk about them, to bring her grandmother to life in this dusty attic, but when she looked over at Lila, hoping to strike up a conversation, her mother was completely absorbed in her task, a faraway and sad look on her face. Lorelai wanted to reach out to her, to offer her a little support, but she didn’t feel that she had the right to. Not yet, anyway. The quiet began to weigh heavily on Lorelai as she struggled to find the right way to comfort her mother, but any kind of closeness was new to her and she was completely out of her depth.
‘More tea?’ Lila asked suddenly.
‘That would be great,’ Lorelai said too brightly. ‘Would you mind?’
‘Back in a tick.’
Lorelai wanted to weep. She’d been so grateful for that moment of connection she’d felt on their walk, but now she realised there was so much more work to be done to close the distance and mend their relationship. Lorelai wanted to sit with her mother in companiable silence, and not feel desperate to fill the void. And she wanted to know how to give her mother a hug when she was sad without it feeling like the most difficult thing in the world. She hated that the moment her mother climbed back down the steps, she felt relieved that she didn’t have to try to make her feel better.Is this really what we’ve become? This is what I’ve let us become. She shook her head and wiped her tears away, reaching for another photo album. This one was burgundy and there was a picture of a baby on the front. On the inside, she saw her own name written in gold ink in her grandmother’s handwriting. Lorelai quickly flipped the book shut once more to look at the photograph again. The baby washer.
‘Huh,’ she said to herself.
Lorelai peered closely at her baby photo but she couldn’t recognise herself in the photo at all. She looked like every other baby, and the only thing she could think was that she may have looked like any other baby, but her life hadn’t turn out as simply. She thought of everything that little baby had in store for her and she suddenly found herself wishing away the part of her she was ashamed of. The part of her that made the easy parts of life complicated and the hard parts unbearable.
She wanted to be kissed. To be able to kiss someone withoutthe pain and heartache it came with for her. Lorelai threw the photo album down, pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around herself and let the tears flow. She let herself feel all the things she’d tried so hard to stop herself from feeling. Finally, she stopped fighting them and the force of her feelings hit her full in the chest. How attached she had become to Grayson, how much she wanted to kiss him without seeing him die. She wanted to be loved, to feel that love and be free to give her love to him with wild and reckless abandon. No one had been worth the risk before but he had made her change her mind. Why him? Maybe shedidneed to face up to the idea of it being fate and predestined. Maybe her pull towards Grayson was more than simple human attraction. Maybe their souls were intertwined in some way. Maybe their destinies were merged and he was always meant to walk into her book club that day. Lorelai couldn’t believe she was thinking these things, but there had to be a reason all of her usual defences had failed her and she’d fallen for Grayson. He was part of her now, forever tied together. Lorelai saw no way of freeing herself from these feelings and the weight of that truth was crushing.
Defeated, she gave the photo album an extra kick. Something dislodged from inside its pages, and the corner of an envelope poked out. Lorelai saw the letters ‘lai’ on the paper. Lorelai. She gently pulled the envelope from the album and held it up to where the light was better.Read me, Lorelai,was scrawled across it, her grandmother’s shaky handwriting instantly recognisable.
Lorelai’s heart jumped and her breathing grew heavy. She snatched up the yellowed envelope and held it to her chest. Her sudden movement stirred the air around her and she caughta whiff of the rose-scented perfume her grandmother always used to wear. She held the envelope up to her face and inhaled, imagining Sylvia spraying the perfume onto the letter, and sealing it in the pages of that album, preserving the smell of her hugs until Lorelai found it.A letter from my grandma,she thought. A letter that no one knew about.
‘Everything alright, dear?’
Lila’s voice startled Lorelai so much that she jumped and disturbed a box next to her, making the knick-knacks inside knock together with an unpleasant clash of ceramic. Lorelai’s jump startled Lila in turn and the cup of tea she was holding wobbled, and the liquid made a satisfying splat as it hit the floor below the ladder. Lila was momentarily distracted by the spilled tea and then caught the look on her daughter’s face.
