Title: When She Cries
Book: II
Chapter: Nineteen
Chapter
Title: Something
Just Got Lost
Rating: R.
Characters: Aggie, Fin, Jamie, Clay. Aurora and Lola.
Disclaimer: Oh, captain, my
captain. I hold no deeds to Gilmore Girls. And I don’t own matchbox twenty’s Argue.
Nor do I own the poem Casualty by Seamus Heaney.
Author’s Note: I have to wonder if anybody truly knows how much I do
not care if they think the chapter is too long or too short. Because I really,
really don’t.
Currently
Worshipping…Mijay.
I bow to you. Plus my regular worshipping of Summer and Kait.
*
I know/But I still/Believe in ignorance as my
best defense/
So go on/Wreck me/Funny how I carry on/
And not be taken over.
Jamie probably opened the door with
a little more enthusiasm than was necessary. Then again, Jamie pretty much did
everything with a little more enthusiasm than was necessary, but in this case
it was bad, because she barely missed breaking Clay’s nose in the process.
Thankfully, all Clay did was shake his head, and continue on with his journey
to the living room couch.
“Fin!” Jamie greeted him. “Haven’t
seen you lately.”
“But you’ve talked to me on the
telephone,” Fin reminded her. “Been working on your poetry?”
“Not lately,” Jamie sighed in the
overdramatic way of her chosen profession. “Been too wrapped up in reading some
of the Great Ones.”
“By Great Ones, you mean some good, solid Irish writers, right?” Fin teased. “Not those wimpy Englishmen that droned on and on about love.”
She smirked; she knew both types of
poets. But for Fin, well she could scrape out some Irish Poetry. “He would
drink by himself/And raise a weathered thumb/Towards the high shelf,/Calling
another rum/And blackcurrant, without/Having to raise his voice,/Or order a
quick stout/By a lifting of the eyes/And a discreet dumb-show/Of pulling off
the top;/At closing time would go/In waders and peaked cap/Into the showery
dark,/A dole-kept breadwinner/But a natural for work./I loved his whole
manner,/Sure-footed but too sly,/His deadpan sidling tact,/
His
fisherman's quick eye/And turned observant back.”
“Seamus Heaney. Very nice,” Fin
complimented. “Can I come in?”
Jamie looked behind her. “I don’t
know, are we allowing you in?”
“Aye, we are,” he grinned at her.
She stepped back to let him in.
“Then by all means, enter.”
“Thank you, James,” Fin told her as
he entered. “She in her room?”
“Yes,” Jamie nodded. “Said something
about reorganizing her Westermarck project. Or case study. Something
psychological like that.”
“Fun,” he knocked briefly on Augusta’s door before entering, and
then shutting it behind him.
Fin found her sitting in the middle
of her bed; notebooks and textbooks surrounded her, while she balanced a laptop
on her lap. The only noise in the room was the clicking of the keyboard, and
the occasional rustling of sheets.
“I think Westermarck was on the same
crack as Freud,” she commented without looking up from the screen. At least she
was aware of her surroundings.
“Well he was rather found of mailing
the stuff,” he replied as he slid off his shoes.
“What better gift could a fiancée
ask for?” Aggie snorted, her gaze flickered up for a moment before returning to
the computer screen.
“Marijuana leaves?” Fin ventured as
he sat down on the bed, behind her, on her pillows. The only clear space left
on the bed.
“I think that’d be a little tame
after receiving so much cocaine,” Augusta returned, as Fin settled his legs on
either side of her, and peaked over her shoulder.
“So what exactly is a Westermarck
case study?”
She stopped typing and leaned back
into him, and sighed. “Westermarck had this theory that ‘Men and women cannot
recognize their relatives as relatives, so they have no way of preventing
inbreeding as such. But they can use a simple psychological rule that works
ninety-nine times out of a hundred to avert an incestuous match. They can avoid
mating with those whom they knew very well during childhood. Sexual aversion to
one's closest relatives is thus achieved.’” She rubbed her eyes. “I started
this years ago, since it seemed the easiest to try out first. Since Dallie and
Lola are six weeks apart, I decided to study them. It’s nothing official
because a.) I’m related to one of them, b.) Not there all the time, and c.) I
started it ten years ago, when I was eleven.”
“And your still working on it
because?”
Augusta shrugged. “Habit, and good
for practice. And I’m updating it because I have to leave for Dallie’s
eighteenth birthday in a few days.”
“October 12th, right?”
Fin moved her hair of his way, and kissed her shoulder.
“Mmmm-hmm. His eighteenth, his most
important, since he probably won’t care so much about his twenty-first.” She
looked back at him. “What are you doing up here, anyways?”
“Oh, Donnie sent me out to do
groceries,” he kissed the corner of her mouth, “apparently our refrigerator
needs to offer more to drink than beer.”
“Um, Fin?”
“Yeah?”
“An hour is rather a long distance
to go to buy some groceries.”
Fin grinned and kissed her, “Don’t
worry, the extra mileage worth it.”
That’s not what she was worried
about.
*
Green would forever look good on a
red head. It was rather unfair, now that Lola really thought about. There were
some shades of green that had made her complexion look so sallow that she had
wanted to erase them from the color palette. However, reality would not allow
her to. She finished applying the eye shadow on Aurora, and stepped back to
admire her work. Perfect. If she was raised in the lower class, she could have
been a cosmetologist.
“Perfect, darling,” Lola told her
friend. “Your eye shadow matches your dress, and your lip stick matches your
hair color. How’s that for stereotypical preppy coordination?”
Aurora blotted her lips before
answering. “Fairly useless, since we don’t actually have plans for this
evening.”
Lola sighed and sank down into the
chair next to her vanity. “We could.”
“Not if it involves leaving your
room.”
“Are we being lassitudial this
evening?”
Aurora just looked at her best
friend for a moment. “Is lassitudial a word?”
She rolled her eyes, “Am I really
caring?”
“Probably not,” Aurora agreed,
sliding from the chair to sit on the floor. The floor was always more
comfortable anyways. “I found a new repercussion to deception.”
Lola grabbed a magazine off the
vanity and opened it, “Is it bad?”
“The word repercussion would imply
so.”
The blonde shrugged, and flipped a
page. “Sometimes bad is good.”
Aurora couldn’t argue with that. “Well
it’s not really bad, depending on how you look at it.”
Lola finally looked up from her
magazine. “What is it? I hate melodrama.”
The idea was laughable. “You feed
off of melodrama, Lorelai.”
Her friend let out an exasperated
sigh, “Are we ever going to reach the repercussion or can I stop caring now?”
Aurora glared at her before
continuing. “I think I’m going to Yale.”
“I could have told you that,”
another page was flipped.
“And you didn’t warn me before
because?”
Lola’s blue eyes met her brown ones.
“Because it was so obvious, I thought you would have caught on to it.”
Leave it to Lola DuGrey to answer
her without actually answering her. “Are you going to be straight about this,
or am I going to have to call in his annoying hotness to decipher you?”
There was one button pushed. “Like
he ever could.”
“Couldn’t,” Aurora countered. “Decode?”
“He wants you with Bartholomew,”
apparently Lola had the same aversion to the name ‘Tolly’ as her father. “So of
course he’s going to send you to the same school as him.”
Oh. Put that way, it was kind of
obvious. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that.”
Lola grinned at her. “You’ve been
manipulated.”
“Don’t say that,” Aurora groaned.
She was never going to live this one down. “I was going to have to go an ivy
league anyway.”
“Yes, but you were double
manipulated,” Lola’s grin got wider. Yeah, some best friend she was. “How much
do you want to bet that Bartholomew knew exactly what your father would do?”
“Well,” she stood up. “I know what I
now have planned for this evening.”
“What’s that?”
“Triple-homicide,” Aurora
widened her eyes innocently. “And one of them doesn’t involve leaving your
bedroom.”
Lola threw the magazine at her. Or
at least attempted to, her athletic ability didn’t really stretch out past
tennis. “Sit down, Thomas. You can’t kill me.”
“Give me one good reason.”
“You can’t do that when you know
that there isn’t one.”
Aurora sat back down; Lola admitting
that was good enough for now.