Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter
Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter
Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade
Rachel searched frantically around her apartment for her cell phone. Despite being a tidy person, she always seemed to lose her blasted phone in piles of sheet music or on top of her stereo. Finally, she found it underneath the Barbra Streisand biography she'd been working on. The caller ID was unknown to her; but, in a life of show-biz, Rachel Berry had learned to never turn down an anonymous call. Her mind began to spin with possibilities. Could it be a Broadway company? A famous agent? Barbra herself?!
She snapped back to reality as she remembered how her own TV show had flopped. Her career was over; Rachel Berry was a lost cause and she had no hope. With defeat, she accepted the call.
"Is this Rachel Berry?" asked a chipper sounding man on the other end of the phone.
Drawing a calming breath, preparing herself for whatever was next, she answered. "Yes, this is! May I ask who's calling?" Her voice was sunny, despite the confusion and underlying nervousness that, as an actress, she had learned to hide so well.
"Hello, Ms. Berry. My name is Ryan Murphy, and I'm a producer with Fox Network. I was wondering if you had a moment to speak?"
Another interview about my disastrous TV show? An opportunity to be publicly humiliated? "Absolutely, Mr. Murphy." What would Fox want with me?
"I'm going to say something strange, and I want you to trust me, okay?" Mr. Murphy's voice was confident, which calmed Rachel's nerves a little bit. She shuffled into the kitchen to turn the water off on her tea kettle, which was screaming from the heat.
"Um, go right ahead," Rachel replied. She sat down at her small dining room table, surveying all the newspaper clippings she had hung around her apartment. Decades of work, of dedication, and where had it gotten her? Here. This miserable, washed-up Broadway failure. God, I'm like April Rhodes! Next thing you know, I'll be huffing glue and having an affair with a 90-something-year-old man! Rachel looked at her collage and found the picture of her and the Glee Club. It wasn't for nothing, though. I've still got them. Her hands traced the delicate lines of her tattoo. And I'll always have Finn.
"Ms. Berry, I would like to make a TV show based on your life." Thank God Rachel had been sitting, because she probably would've collapsed when the man on the phone finished speaking. A TV show? Of my life? Isn't that the very thing that ruined my career?
"Mr. Murphy, I'm afraid I don't understand." This was still an opportunity she didn't want to throw away, but Rachel was confused nonetheless.
"I want to recreate how you came to be a star."
Rachel couldn't stop herself from saying, "Mr. Murphy, I'm no star."
"But you are, Rachel. Look, stuff happens to actresses. So what? As soon as the papers stop selling, everybody will stop caring about your little show. What you need is someone willing to invest in you. That's me and my network. You are bursting at the seams with talent, Rachel, and there's no excuse for letting it go to waste."
Her heart swelled. Is this really what is sounds like? A fresh start? I can prove myself again, start all over, make it to the top of show-biz! Rachel Berry is BACK!
"That's very flattering, Mr. Murphy," Rachel said sincerely, rubbing the polished gold of her necklace. Today she was wearing the small gold star Finn got her after they broke up. There's already a star named Rachel Berry... A warm tear welled in her eye at the thought of her lost love.
Sniffing, she turned her full attention to the phone call. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, I want to start with that club you were in in high school- what was that again?"
"Glee Club," Rachel declared affirmatively. The words rolled so naturally off her tongue after all the times in her life she had said them.
"Yeah, I think we open with that in the first few seasons, then focus on your life afterwards. How's that sound? I figured all your friends can play themselves. From what I hear, it sounds like you guys are pretty close."
Rachel's eyes darted back to the picture of the New Directions, all the way back in 2009. Their faces were all so young, so full of life. Together, that bunch of misfits had been through a teen pregnancy, dozens of different relationship pairings, and countless Slushee Facials. And it made them the stars they are today. We owe everything to Mr. Schue.
"That sounds amazing, Mr. Murphy. I'd love to do it." That tear she felt before? It had long since fallen down her cheek at the memories resurrected from the very back of her brain. The feeling of camaraderie, of happiness, of...
Of glee,
"Great, we'll be in contact. Thanks a lot, Ms. Berry. We're just going to need one thing. Do you have any ideas for a title for the show? It always helps production teams to have a working title, something to capture the essence of the show."
Rachel knew. She knew it in her heart the whole time. It had been the word that created her as she exists today, the word that summed up her entire musical career, the word that brought her love and loss, and pure, pure happiness.
"Glee."
Rest in peace, Cory Monteith. Thank you for bringing us glee: the TV show and, more importantly, the emotion.