Jessica Lee
First Exposure
The Gilmore Girls watch Donna Reed while they eat take out
pepperoni pizza, turn the volume down low and insert
their own language. “Mother-daughter window washing!
How fun! Next we should try mother-daughter shock therapy!”
They claim their dialogue is better, but I’m not sure I agree.
Lorelei’s favorite episode is when Mary comes home
from school and nothing happens; Rory prefers when Alex
comes home late for dinner and nothing happens.
Rory’s boyfriend, Dean, asks what’s wrong
with a wife cooking her family dinner. The Gilmore Girls
give him sidelong glares, harsh as search lights.
“She looks happy,” he says. “She’s medicated,” they reply.
All three of them look back to the TV screen
and chew through the rest of their pizza quietly.
The Gilmore Girls watch Donna Reed while they eat take out
pepperoni pizza, turn the volume down low and insert
their own language. “Mother-daughter window washing!
How fun! Next we should try mother-daughter shock therapy!”
They claim their dialogue is better, but I’m not sure I agree.
Lorelei’s favorite episode is when Mary comes home
from school and nothing happens; Rory prefers when Alex
comes home late for dinner and nothing happens.
Rory’s boyfriend, Dean, asks what’s wrong
with a wife cooking her family dinner. The Gilmore Girls
give him sidelong glares, harsh as search lights.
“She looks happy,” he says. “She’s medicated,” they reply.
All three of them look back to the TV screen
and chew through the rest of their pizza quietly.
Dress Up / Reconciliation in Gilmore Girls
1. Dean says, “You’re so sensitive about that damn Donna Reed.” “Because her sole purpose in
life is to serve someone else and she has to look good while vacuuming!” Rory shouts. “You do
realize that Donna Reed wasn’t real, don’t you?” “You do realize Donna Reed represented
millions of women that were real, don’t you?” Their characters are supposed to be seventeen.
2. Dean storms off. Rory feels bad about yelling, rings her hands and wonders how she’ll make
things better.
3. Despite their fight, Dean comes over after work to see her as planned. Rory opens the door,
says “Honey, you’re home!” She’s all aglow in the porch light, a peach in an orange-checked
dress, taller than usual in heels and borrowed Bumpit. Her apron is decorative, sheer.
4. “Say something,” she says. “Trick or treat?” Dean says, tentatively. Rory giggles, invites him
in. She’s lit candles, placed a platter of Ritz crackers and cheese on the coffee table. “What’s all
this?” Dean asks. “It’s Donna Reed night!” Rory exclaims.
5. She’s made him dinner (steak, potatoes, canned green beans). They eat. Later, she remembers
she forgot about the rolls. Her crinoline droops, along with her bare shoulders. “Donna would
have never forgotten the rolls” she says, forlorn. “They’re going to make me turn in my pearls.”
1. Dean says, “You’re so sensitive about that damn Donna Reed.” “Because her sole purpose in
life is to serve someone else and she has to look good while vacuuming!” Rory shouts. “You do
realize that Donna Reed wasn’t real, don’t you?” “You do realize Donna Reed represented
millions of women that were real, don’t you?” Their characters are supposed to be seventeen.
2. Dean storms off. Rory feels bad about yelling, rings her hands and wonders how she’ll make
things better.
3. Despite their fight, Dean comes over after work to see her as planned. Rory opens the door,
says “Honey, you’re home!” She’s all aglow in the porch light, a peach in an orange-checked
dress, taller than usual in heels and borrowed Bumpit. Her apron is decorative, sheer.
4. “Say something,” she says. “Trick or treat?” Dean says, tentatively. Rory giggles, invites him
in. She’s lit candles, placed a platter of Ritz crackers and cheese on the coffee table. “What’s all
this?” Dean asks. “It’s Donna Reed night!” Rory exclaims.
5. She’s made him dinner (steak, potatoes, canned green beans). They eat. Later, she remembers
she forgot about the rolls. Her crinoline droops, along with her bare shoulders. “Donna would
have never forgotten the rolls” she says, forlorn. “They’re going to make me turn in my pearls.”
Marital Troubles in The Donna Reed Show
More terrifying than wildfires, they jump from 120 Maple Drive to 27 Chestnut Way without a
trace of wind, traveling via telephone wires. Oh, you should have heard them going at it. Don’t
tell a soul, I think I might just die if anyone knew, a daughter whispers
and there’s a mother on the other side of the door, asking what’s happened to who. Like any
house trouble, hearing the Smith’s have termites makes Donna wonder whether they have
termites, too
and all the while Mrs. Smith is on the other side of a different door, thinking the Stone’s are
disintegrating—but in this black-and-white box no one actually separates. Like any good
Shakespearean comedy everyone’s deceived until the final scene
the two couples embrace in the Stone’s foyer in the flesh--but clothed, of course--then retire to
the kitchen to share a pot of coffee. No one pours any down the other’s throats. Everyone smiles
and their teeth are white as porcelain
but if this wasn’t in black-and-white their teeth might be yellowed as termites. Donna might
break a saucer when the Smiths left, or alternately, her and the doctor might have make-up sex.
But coffee, on air, is as hot as it gets.
More terrifying than wildfires, they jump from 120 Maple Drive to 27 Chestnut Way without a
trace of wind, traveling via telephone wires. Oh, you should have heard them going at it. Don’t
tell a soul, I think I might just die if anyone knew, a daughter whispers
and there’s a mother on the other side of the door, asking what’s happened to who. Like any
house trouble, hearing the Smith’s have termites makes Donna wonder whether they have
termites, too
and all the while Mrs. Smith is on the other side of a different door, thinking the Stone’s are
disintegrating—but in this black-and-white box no one actually separates. Like any good
Shakespearean comedy everyone’s deceived until the final scene
the two couples embrace in the Stone’s foyer in the flesh--but clothed, of course--then retire to
the kitchen to share a pot of coffee. No one pours any down the other’s throats. Everyone smiles
and their teeth are white as porcelain
but if this wasn’t in black-and-white their teeth might be yellowed as termites. Donna might
break a saucer when the Smiths left, or alternately, her and the doctor might have make-up sex.
But coffee, on air, is as hot as it gets.
Jessica Lee is an Assistant Editor for Narrative Magazine and an intern for Copper Canyon Press. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in American Literary Review, BOAAT, cream city review, DIAGRAM, Fugue, Nasty Women Poets (Lost Horse Press), phoebe, and elsewhere. She was a finalist for the 2017 Greg Grummer Poetry Award and the So to Speak Poetry Contest. Find her online at readjessicalee.wordpress.com