Prologue
There she stood.
With child-like eyes on Christmas Day, she stared up at all of the bright and shining lights. There was so much pride, so much joy. After everything, she had finally made it. The world was at her feet and there wasn't anything more that she could even think of wanting.
The Wizard of Oz suddenly came to her mind. She was Dorothy. With her very bright pink suitcase as a bigger version of Toto, the glowing streets of New York City represented a "yellow brick road" of her own.
With every bit of astonishment rising inside of her, reality was slowly beginning to slip away. First, she was moving at an exceptionally slower pace than the crowd around her. Then, she had no choice. Coming to a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, her surroundings were but a bit of white noise.
Experience trumped vision, she decided in that moment.
Of course, she'd seen many pictures of the famous city in the time leading up to now; she often spent many late nights just thinking about roaming these streets and stealing all that it had to offer. However, seeing it in person... These were two completely different places.
"Hey! Move it, lady!" A stranger hollered, rushing to get around her. In a black business suit and a tie, a deep brown brief case hung from his left hand, decorated with the fanciest silver watch she'd ever seen.
"Can you get out of the way?" Barked another. It was a woman this time. With long hair similar to her own, she was dressed up like the man. Really, the only difference between the two were the tall heels that clanked loudly at every contact point her feet made with the concrete. She focused on her until she disappeared with a number of people, descending nearby steps to the underground subway system.
It took being shoved by another person for Rachel to finally escape her dreamy state. And, she was more than surprised at how easy it was for her to bounce back.
Hopping off to the side and out of the way, she made her first attempt at hailing a cab.
Much like the concept of fishing, the one time she'd actually been dragged out onto the water, it was a lot easier said than done. This was especially true considering the time of day. Nearing closer to six in the evening, rush hour seemed to be in full swing. Each yellow car that appeared to be drawing closer to her location only grew harder to "catch". Instead, many people would jump in front and hold their hands up, cutting her imaginary line.
"You're a very nice gentleman," she praised, climbing into the dirty backseat of the first one she'd successfully flagged down nearly twenty minutes later.
"What's the address?" He asked ignoring her completely, his thick northeastern American accent sounding rather monotonous.
Reading aloud from the crumpled up sheet of paper in her hands, she took a deep, therapeutic breath as the car lurched into motion.
So, she'd forgotten the many tales her fathers sold her on New York's overwhelming atmosphere and overcrowded population of rude individuals... It's not like every single person acted this way on a day-to-day basis. Additionally, she wouldn't take any of it to heart. Her future held a brighter purpose, one much bolder than over-analyzing the tiniest, most insignificant details.
Her aspirations were no longer fuel to extremely skeptical grownups and jealous peers. She was no longer the little girl whose dreams were too big for her own imagination. To her, that was good enough.
Once the cab arrived at what appeared to be her destination, excitement sent the hairs on the back of her neck all the way up. So consumed in a little world of her own, it took the driver shouting almost two octaves higher from his regular voice to get through to her.
Handing him the wad of cash stashed away in her small white cross-body handbag, she braced herself for another milestone.
Less crowded from before, this portion of the city would have certainly supported her state of mesmerization. Nevertheless, somewhere in between the time it took her to close the door to the taxi behind her and for it to speed away, some type of fire lit deep within. Before she knew it, she was scampering like a loose dog with her suitcase bouncing up and down off of the pavement, hardly in tow.
Coming to an abrupt stop in front of the very tall building—housing much of the same exterior details as the others surrounding it, she was finally introduced to the reality that her new apartment stood merely an elevator ride and a few steps away.
This prohibited any further ability to think. In all seriousness, she really couldn't remember a single thing—not the floor number, or the number on the door. They were all more than lost to her.
Instead, she could only make out one thing, a memory of a certain night.
It was a Saturday night, one of the many during her senior year of high school, spent with her very best friend, Kurt Hummel. They were apartment hunting online, as per usual. The only other person in school to share her drastic dreams was, of course, to eventually come with her.
She supposed they probably would have been better off that night if they'd cut the time short. It was very, very late. Frustration hung over their heads like a grey cloud. No matter how hard they tried, the perfect residence was so far out of reach. Crappy roach-infested spaces were for an exceptional price while the decent, livable options were almost impossible. Adding coffee into the mix did nothing to work in their favor.
It was after a series of loud arguments and spitting obscenities, when their heads were low and their hopes were up, that she saw it.
In angry silence, Kurt mockingly clicked through another round of listings. And all she can remember thinking in this moment was how annoying he was being. Rising her eyes to send him a chilling glare, she spotted it.
By accident? Fate? She was unsure. Still, she smacked Kurt's hand away from the mouse.
"Hey!" He exclaimed, clearly agitated. "What's with you?"
"This is it," she simply stated, scooting her chair closer to his. And just like that, all things said from before were completely forgotten on her end. Grudges were never really her thing, anyways. "Kurt, this is our apartment."
"Hah!" He scared her with the sudden outburst.
"What?" She asked, then, unable to comprehend his discontentment.
"Remove the rose colored glasses, Rachel."
She only sighed. Being used too much in recent years, she was well acquainted with the phrase.
"We'd live so uncomfortable with this rent, struggling to make ends meet. I mean, unless you're willing to dive into the whole Julia Robert's Pretty Woman scenario and sell yourself on the side of the street." Concern was visibly etched into his cherub-like facial features.
"But, we can afford it, Kurt." She decided to go on her own reasoning. "You have all that money that you earned working at The Lima Bean for the past few summers...And me, I can dip into my savings a little. It's no problem."
"No problem," he snorted. "Of course it's a problem, Rachel. What happens when you run out of money?"
"You can't run out of money if you get a job. There, problem solved."
"You have the mind of a young child. You know that, right?" He crossed his arms.
"What's that mean?" She followed suit.
"It means that employment isn't that easy, especially in New York City. You can't just snap your fingers and have a job. There's a process." Like she didn't already know...
As most of her classmates were employed all over town, all Rachel could show for on her resume was the time she spent in school. Apparently a fierce and ambitious attitude came off as rude and arrogant in the world of customer service. This was what she'd been told every time her applications were rejected.
"C'mon, Kurt," she pleaded, deciding to start on a different level. "It's perfect for us. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms...and the view...How can you not appreciate that view? This is what we've been dreaming of for so long... It's finally here."
He sighed, contemplation present in his demeanor.
After what felt like an eternity, he spoke once again.
"Alright, fine. I'll look into it with you." He suddenly paused to point his finger at her, "but don't you act all surprised when everything blows up in our faces."
"How can you even say that?" She rolled her eyes in retaliation. "We are Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry."
"And?" He asked before she could even get her point across. This earned him another glare.
"We're magnificent, extremely talented, and totally going to accomplish any and all things that we set our minds to." She added, "besides, do you really believe that Barbra and Patty didn't face these exact obstacles? You'll see, Kurt. One day when we're both being chased into our limos, with our own personal drivers and giant homes in the Hamptons, you'll be thanking me for talking you into making this very decision. You're welcome!" She giggled.
"It must be really nice to dream the way that you do, Rachel Berry," he said with a slight smile slowly starting to approach his lips.
"Why yes, it really is," she smirked before he clapped his hands together, scooting his chair even closer to the computer.
Standing now before the large double window in the empty, dark apartment, she couldn't help but take in the same beautiful view promised in the listing with a sense of aching somewhere within.
She'd done a well enough job at getting lost in her enthusiasm and eagerness for most of the day. It was a great distraction, finding her way through the concrete jungle. Still, as anticipated on the ride over, nothing would allow her to forget the extra baggage completely and it would all come rushing back as fast as it went away.
Memories were harsh little things once you let them creep their way back in, she assumed.
The memories of leaving others behind—if she had to be specific—were the real kicker. In pursuing her dreams restlessly, there were sacrfices that had to be made.
There were some things that could no longer be.
Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the pressing grievances in her head. Nighttime was usually when the pain sparked to its full potential.
Stealing one last glimpse of the gorgeous city that was now her home, she decided that a good night's sleep was the perfect remedy to all of this. Flipping all three locks on the front door into place, she found her pink suitcase in the center of what she would make the sitting room and dragged it into what would become her bedroom.
Pulling two old blankets from the luggage, she spread them across the old floor, one over the other to create a pallet over the hard surface. Lying over it, she took yet another therapeutic breath, thinking of all the furniture most likely in the process of being shipped to her. Her bed, more so...
With her eyes closed, she smiled at the notion that she had found something else to be excited about.
The next morning was when she'd taken the worst hit. Sitting on the ledge of her window with her feet firmly planted on the fire escape, she sipped at her unreasonably high-priced coffee, looking out at the same view from last night.
With no other source of entertainment, her mind was left to run wild.
Oddly enough, it all started with a picture of Sue Sylvester in her head. Then, she was remembering what Mr. Schuester looked like the last time she'd seen him, at the train station.
Then, Mike Chang of all people...
Sam's face arrived next, then Puck, Blaine, Artie, Tina, Mercedes, Brittany, Santana, Quinn...
The image of Kurt returning to her mind was what initially kickstarted her tear shedding in that moment, feeling like such a harsh blow to her chest. However, it was nowhere near the pain that she felt once she allowed the thought of him to sneak back in through loose cracks.
No amount of success would ever be able to mask that loss.