Puck and Rachel: Grilled Cheesus
Hi all. This is just a one-shot. I thought there should have been more interaction between our two Jewish glee clubbers in this past episode. This takes place after Kurt's father has had a heart attack. Thanks for reading!
In the fading light, Puck opened the back door of his truck and rooted around in the mess of fast food containers and dirty laundry until he found the item he was looking for. He grabbed the small paper bag his mom had put in there months ago for one of those "just in case" situations.
Now, unfortunately, was one of those times.
Puck checked the school parking lot to make sure no one else was around. He had stayed late after practice to help Coach Beiste with some of the football equipment. As she had explained to him, "A hungry pig can't be afraid to get its snout dirty." Puck had no idea what that meant or how it related to football, but he figured staying late could only increase his chances of getting more playing time.
Puck walked over to a spot that was behind the dumpsters: close enough to be somewhat hidden from view but not so close that the tuna noodle surprise from lunch (Puck thought the surprise must be barf…what else could explain those oddly colored chunks) could attack his nostrils.
Puck set the paper bag down on the ground and pulled out a candle, some matches, and a small book.
He struck one match and bent forward to light the wick, but the wind picked up and the tiny flame blew out before the candle could catch.
Puck lit a second match and got the same result.
"Crap," he muttered while grabbing a third, "This is why I never pray."
"Is that what you're doing back here?" a soft voice asked. "Praying?"
Puck immediately jumped up from his crouched position. He started to put his hand with the matches behind his back until he realized that the big candle in front of him could not be hidden so easily.
"Hey Rachel," Puck said trying to act naturally. "I didn't know anybody was out here."
Rachel took a few steps closer. "I was in the choir room arranging sheet music by style, date written, and how well I think the songs would fit my vocal range."
"Oh, sounds like fun," Puck replied.
Rachel scuffed the toe of her right loafer on the ground, "Mostly though, I was just wasting time. My dads aren't going to be home for an hour or so, and I didn't want to go to the hospital and be in anyone's way."
"You'd never be in the way," Puck assured her.
"Thanks," Rachel gave him a small smile. "But, Mercedes is already there and she said she would give everyone an update as soon as she knew anything."
"That's good. I never thought I'd say this, but I feel bad for Kurt. It sucks that he was in school when he heard his dad was sick. Actually, I bet it sucks to hear that news no matter where you are."
"I concur. I don't even know what I'd do if one of my dads…" Rachel shuddered and refused to finish her thought.
Puck nodded. "Same here. My mom's the only real parent I've got. Plus, if anything happened to her then I'd get stuck with my terror of a sister."
"She can't be that bad," Rachel stated.
"Says the only child," Puck retorted.
"Point taken." Rachel looked down at the ground. "So, you still haven't told me where this set-up came from."
Puck came up with a funny explanation, but before he could even get it out, Rachel held up one finger and issued a warning, "Don't even think of telling me that you had a candle in your car because you're just a love machine or some other stupid excuse like that."
Puck momentarily closed his mouth. Rachel knew him so well.
"Would you believe I'm conducting a séance?" Puck asked.
Rachel shook her head.
"Would you believe I have a fondness for all things related to Yankee Candle?"
"Nope."
"Fine then." Puck wracked his brain. "Would you believe I'm just holding this for a friend?"
"Noahhh…." Rachel said in an exasperated tone.
Puck wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "A girl friend. After all, I'm just a love machine and I won't work for nobody but you…" Puck hummed a bit of the tune.
Rachel stifled back a laugh.
Satisfied with that reaction, Puck decided he could tell the truth.
"Would you believe my mom put this paper bag in my car and dubbed it my Crisis of Faith kit?"
Rachel looked like she still didn't believe him, "If you don't want to tell me…"
Puck held his hands up in mock innocence. "I swear that's the truth. My mom found a few…um...let's call them periodicals…under my mattress and she put this bag together. It has a candle, some matches, a spare yarmulke, and a pocket Torah. She said if I ever found myself in a morally ambiguous situation, I would have something in my car to make me think twice about my actions."
"Wow," was all Rachel could say. "That's kind of hard to believe."
"It does sound weird," Puck admitted. "It'd be like a Catholic carrying around a cross and some holy water for emergency confessions. Or a Hindu carrying around a…actually I have no idea what that religion does."
"I'm not talking about the kit. It makes perfect sense for your mother to want to protect your immortal soul. What I find hard to believe is that you would actually put your periodicals under your mattress. That's such a terrible hiding spot, and so cliché."
Puck was amused. He liked it when Rachel dished his crap right back.
"I didn't think my mother was all that worldly. When she heard me say the word 'Penthouse' on the phone, I told her I was talking about real estate."
"Your poor mother," was all Rachel would say.
Puck agreed, he could be a handful.
"Is Kurt's situation the reason you decided to pull your kit out on this particular night?" Rachel asked turning things back to more serious matters.
"Yeah. I had forgotten it was even in there but I suddenly remembered as I was finishing up with practice. I didn't want to pull it out at home because my mother would probably cry with relief and send me on some Jewish retreat."
"I can pray with you if you want," Rachel offered. "If you think anybody is listening," she said softly to herself.
Puck wasn't one to contemplate the mysteries of the universe, but during his relatively few short years on earth, he had figured a few things out.
"The way I see it, something's gotta be up there," Puck said while pointing to the darkening sky; "A divine being, a robot monkey, or maybe even a grilled cheese sandwich. I don't really know or care what exactly."
Rachel stared at him. "Are you sure? Because sometimes I have to wonder when bad things happen to really nice people…"
"I'm sure, like ninety-three percent sure. But even if I wasn't, it doesn't really matter. If believing in something makes people feel better and treat each other nicer, then I'm okay with any religion, even if it means someone wants to worship a rutabaga."
Rachel seemed surprised by Puck's thought process, "Every time I think I've got you figured out…" she trailed off.
"What can I say, I'm a complicated guy," Puck smirked.
"Do you need some help lighting that candle?" Rachel asked while pulling her jacket tighter around her to try and block out the cold.
"Yes. Come on baby light my fire," Puck joked and then kind of regretted it. It wasn't his fault that he used humor as a defense mechanism.
Thankfully, Rachel just rolled her eyes and moved even closer. She cupped both hands, and used them to create a barrier against the wind. "Go ahead and try now," she urged.
Puck grabbed the third match and struck it against the sulfurous strip.
With Rachel's hands protecting the flame, Puck was able to get the candle to light.
"Success," Puck stated when the flame stayed lit for more than a minute.
Rachel bent down and retrieved a few items. She stuck Puck's spare yarmulke on his head, and handed him the pocket Torah.
"My Hebrew is a little rusty," Puck warned.
"Mine is practically non-existent," Rachel told him. "Just say whatever you feel like. I won't know the difference."
Puck opened the book to a random page and began reading. "El na refa na lah," he sounded out.
"What does that mean?" Rachel wanted to know.
Puck studied the words for a few moments. "I think it means 'Please God, bring healing.'"
"How appropriate," Rachel said by way of approval. She slipped her hand into Puck's free one.
"Keep going," she told him.
"Mi-sheberakh avoteinu v'imoteinu, Avraham v'Sarah, Yitzhak v'Rivkah, Ya'akov, Rachel v'Leah hu y'varekh et Burt v'yavi aleihem refuat hanefesh u'refuat haguf yachad im kol cholei amo Yisrael. Barukh atah Hashem, rofeh ha'cholim."
Puck was pretty sure he was butchering the language. But he figured God/robot monkey/grilled cheese sandwich would give him some points for effort.
At the end of a paragraph, Puck stopped, looked up, and said with genuine feeling in English, "God, I know I don't go to temple nearly enough, and I probably won't win any awards for being a model Jew, but please make sure Kurt's dad is okay. Don't let him die."
"Amen," Rachel agreed softly.
Puck closed the book, gripped Rachel's hand tighter, and stayed silent.
As he stood next to Rachel in the wind and the cold watching a tiny flame conquer the darkness, Puck felt a sense of peace and calm wash over him. He didn't have the specifics—the what, the how, the why, or the when— but, he knew that when he woke up tomorrow, everything would be okay. The news was going to be good.