Couples Therapy
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Glee
Copyright: Ryan Murphy Productions
"Mike?"
He turned around. It was easy to miss one quiet female voice in the general rush out of the choir room, but since becoming Tina's boyfriend, he'd learned to listen very closely. Walking behind him, almond eyes wide with contrition, it was hard to believe she was the same girl who had screamed at him in the library about salads with chicken feet. He paused for her to catch up.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said softly. "I … I tend to do that. Bottle everything up until I explode at someone. I'm not as sweet as I look, you know."
Considering her black ruffled dress, fingerless gloves and the blue streaks in her hair, Mike found it impossible not to smile.
"I know," he said. "I remember when you blew up at Artie last year for trying to make you dress differently. I thought you were awesome."
She ducked her head modestly, came to stand next to him, and held out her small hand as a peace offering. He squeezed it warmly as they began their walk to class.
"It's just … I didn't know you had such a problem about going out for dim sum with my parents," he said, fighting to keep a neutral tone. The last thing he wanted was another argument. "I don't. I'm proud to be Chinese."
"You think I'm not proud to be Korean?" A look from Mike made Tina check herself, take a deep breath, and lower her sharp voice once again. "I don't even know what that means. I'm adopted, remember? My parents only let me keep the name 'Chang' so I don't confuse people at first meeting. I don't speak the language, I've never been there, and I don't even like kimchee or soju. I'm sorry, but all this Asian pride doesn't mean all that much to me, especially when people like that go around saying that's the only reason we're together!"
She levelled a toxic glare from under her red eyeshadow at Jacob Ben Israel, who smirked back at them as they passed. Mike, despite his football playing and the kung-fu lessons his father had pushed him into, was not a violent person; however, at this moment, he was seriously tempted to put a dent in Jacob's curls with a well-placed flying kick.
"You know he's an idiot," he said instead.
Tina sighed.
"It's not only him … It's Artie. He's been calling us the Asian Fusion – like one of those fast food restaurants where they serve General Tao's and sushi and pad thai all at once. I didn't … I thought he of all people would know better than to stereotype me like that."
Her face hardened as she glanced over her shoulder. Following her look, Mike caught sight of the lights on Artie's wheelchair flashing through the crowd. Brittany, of all people, had taken charge of it it as soon as practice ended, and was smiling down at her passenger like a mother wheeling a stroller. When Artie met their eyes, he made a dismissive gesture with his gloved hand that was obviously meant to be 'gangsta'; it didn't impress Mike, who only smiled at strangeness of the image.
He had a certain respect for both these teammates of his, with their unashamed oddity and undeniable talent. He hoped being with Brittany would lighten Artie's mood, and also that he would treat her with more respect than he had treated Tina. And besides, the selfish part of him added, the more time they spent together, the less Artie would be likely to go after Tina again.
"It must be because he's jealous," he concluded. "Who wouldn't be, after losing you?"
"Oh, Mike … "
Tina's dark eyes seemed to melt as she looked up at him, putting both her hands on his arm as if not touching him were impossible right then. The crowds of students, the red lockers and white linoleum floor, the smells of sweat and stolen cigarettes, all seemed to fade into the background, until Tina's face was all he saw.
"I'm not that good with talking," he said. "Or singing. I don't know how to tell you why I love you. But I can show you, Tina, every time we dance together. Can't you feel it?"
"I do," she murmured. "I always have."
He nodded.
It had made him feel so guilty that first time, dancing with her for Mr. Schue's project while an embittered Artie watched them from his chair. Then later at summer camp, after that passionate first kiss in the middle of a rehearsal for The King and I, he had run laps around the soccer field until he was dizzy. He'd never thought of himself as the kind of man who would move in on someone's girlfriend. But even then, just as she was now, Tina Cohen-Chang had proved impossible to resist.
Most people he danced with, especially girls, couldn't keep up with him. Brittany tried to outshine him, and with her bubbly, flirtatious style, she usually succeeded. Tina, however, matched him step for step; she not only followed his lead, but gave everything she had to her partner: strength, precision, and passion most of all, and in return, he did the same for her.
"That's got nothing to do with where you were born," he said. "I'd love you even if you were, I don't know, a space alien."
Tina giggled. "Even if I were green and had three heads?"
"Especially then. You know what a sci-fi geek I am."
He offered her the first two fingers of his right hand, the one she wasn't holding. She mirrored the gesture, stroking his fingers in a Vulcan kiss. The way she beamed during the ritual was anything but authentic, but Mike doubted the creators of Star Trek would mind.
"I know the perfect song for you," she chirped. "It's a comic song, written especially for people who can't carry a tune. The worse you sing, the better it'll be, trust me!"
"Bring it," said Mike, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Breadstix, here we come!"
"That's right, baby! And even if we lose – "
She didn't even need to finish that sentence. "If we lose, I'm taking you to Moshe's Deli. Just the two of us. You need to celebrate your heritage, Miss Cohen-Chang."
She squealed and bounced on her toes, her long soft hair flying all around them. He would croak his way through an entire opera, he thought, for one more moment like this.