This is just a short introduction to the series known as, Bluebird. Chapters get longer as the story progresses! Thanks for reading :)
I don't own Glee. If I did, it would be called The Samcedes Show or White Chocolate Thunder.
Update 1/27/2012: This chapter, along with the rest of them, has recently been edited! Hopefully it's easier to read without all of those silly grammatical errors.
Tears stained my cheeks. I couldn't turn off the faucet; the mist of my eyes dripped on to the paper smearing his words. Reading the letter, I heard his voice—breaking my heart even more.
Dear Mercedes,
As I write this letter, my hands are shaking. I went back and forth a million times, and I just couldn't get myself to put the pen and paper away. I love you. I love you so much that it scares me. They say when you love someone, you have to let them go—or something like that. You and I both knew from the beginning that we wouldn't be together forever. Let's just face it, you deserve someone better than me.
I'll never forget all that I have learned from you. You taught me a lot about myself. I don't think that I'll ever find someone like you again. You were the best I ever had. You have to believe that, okay? You have to believe that no matter how far and wide that I search, no one will ever measure up to you. But I can't be in this relationship anymore knowing that you can do 100 percent better than me.
I don't want to stop writing this letter, because when I get to the end of it, I know that it'll be over between us. I don't want it to be over, I really don't want it to be, but it's just the way it should be. I thought I could deal with the bullshit. I thought I could deal with people saying I wasn't good enough for you. At first I was in denial, but I realized that I was wrong. Your parents, the kids at school…they saw what I refused to see. You're going to do amazing things in this world. And even though no one will believe me, I get to say that you were my first love—my first real love. I'm never gonna let you go Mercedes Jones. One day you're going to forget about me, but I'm never going to forget about you. I wrote this letter because I wasn't man enough to look you in the eye and tell you that I'm sorry that I'm not enough. Please don't waste any tears on me. You're too pretty to let tears fall from those eyes.
I'm always going to love you. I'd be lucky if you could say the same for me. One day you'll really see that this is for the best. I promise you.
Love Always,
Sam
"This is Sam, you know what to do, and uh…if you don't, just leave me a message."
"Yea, Sam, this is Mercedes. I know you're not answering me for a reason. I got your letter. I didn't want to read it because I already knew what it was going to say. I saw it coming, I did. I-I, I wish that it didn't have to end this way, Sam. You know, you talk about how other people think you're not good enough. And you talk about how you don't think you're good enough, but damn it! What about me? What about what I think of you? I guess that doesn't really matter anymore. I just want to say one last thing…. Sam you were wrong—."
My mom continued to knock on my door and I continued to ignore her.
"Mercedes, open this door right now!"
I was a complete mess and hadn't left my room for days. I rolled my eyes as she started to jingle her set of keys. It was funny, really. I had a lock on my door, but what was the point? My mother had her own key!
"Mercedes Jones! Get out of that bed, and get into the shower. You're not staying in that room again today…do you understand me?" I pretended that I couldn't hear her and pulled the covers over my head.
"Did you not hear me? I said get up, now!" She pulled the covers off of me and groaned. I had pissed my mom off many times in my life, but I was beginning to think she'd reached her breaking point with me.
"I did not raise you to act like this; I did not. Now I know you're sad. Baby, I know. Sam doesn't know what he's missing." I scoffed aloud. Was she serious?
"Please Mom—please do not pull the 'concerned' mother act."
She had a hard time believing that I was talking back to her in that way. In that moment, I didn't care. Our relationship was nowhere near perfect. I wasn't one of those kids who thought that being disrespectful to their parents was okay, but as she pretended to care about me and my feelings, she pushed me over the edge.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh don't act like you aren't happy about this, mother!" Something in me snapped. She'd never cared about Sam or our relationship. I was surprised
"You don't think I know that this is partially your fault? You practically pushed Sam away from me. It was you, and it was Dad, and it was everyone in this damn family."
I was shaking uncontrollably. To be fair, they'd never done anything shady, but they weren't accepting either. Sam couldn't stand to be around my parents. He felt like he was always on watch when they were around. Sam walked on eggshells around them, and he became a stranger.
"Don't talk to me like that! Your father and I just want the best for you," she tried reaching out to me, but I pushed her away.
"Sam was the best for me. I can't help it that he's white, Mom. I can't help it that his family is going through what they're going through. I can't help it that I love him!"
"You're going to college in a few months. You have your entire life ahead of you to find someone! You're going to do things with your life, and Sam… Mercedes he doesn't have anything going for him. You don't know what love is, Mercedes. You don't!"
"Oh and you do, Mom? Daddy has never looked at you the way Sam looks at me, and he never will! He never will because he doesn't love you!"
Before I could process what I was saying, she had slapped me. She'd put her all into that smack. I'd crossed a dangerous line, and I knew the damage was irrevocable. The ice in my tone overpowered the vibe in the room—everything was cold.
"When I leave this house in August, don't expect me to come back." She showed no interest in my dramatic statement and slammed the door as she made her exit. It took me a few minutes to stop crying, but once I was calm, I forced myself to get out of the bed. I could have stayed in the shower for hours, but nothing washed the pain away. Being alone was the norm for me—it made me independent and strong. What it didn't do was make me feel any less shitty.
They didn't see me, but I heard every word of their conversation. On the last day of school, Mike had met Sam at his locker after the final bell had rung.
"Mike, I just don't know how long I can do this with her," Sam said. He looked tired—he was always tired.
"What are you going to do about it? I mean, Mercedes is probably the best girl in the school, after Tina that is. But she understands what you're going through," Mike told him. Sam banged his fist against his locker, wincing in pain.
"That's just it, Mike! She is the best girl, but she deserves better than me. I'm never going to make it out of Lima. When she goes off to school in the fall, she's going to be surrounded by all of these great guys. If I don't let her go now, she's always going to resent me." Mike shook his head in disappointment. Hearing this broke my heart, and I'm sure it broke his too.
"I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I really think you're going about this the wrong way. If Mercedes was the one to care about stupid stuff like money or the way people thought of you, she would have never given you the time of day. We're graduating soon—don't put a damper on the celebration! You two are meant to be. Just think about that man," he said walking away from him.
I'd never get the chance to tell him that what he was saying was far from the truth. With all of the hype of graduation, there wasn't a moment where we could breathe. That conversation between him and I never came. He'd never know just how much he meant to me. Because of him, I would never be the same again. I never thought I was capable of feeling so many emotions at once. I was sad because Sam didn't know how great he was. I was pissed that my parents didn't accept him. I was embarrassed because I'd let myself fall hard without a safety net.
Eventually, I got tired of riding that tilt-a-whirl of emotions. I was extremely tired of feeling sorry for myself. Sam was right about one thing: But they say when you love someone; you have to let them go—or something like that.
I would never stop loving him, but I had to let him go—or something like that.
