3:36pm Tuesday
Maria is busying herself at the stove as a particular brunette seemingly floats through the front door, without so much as a "Hi mom" or "Here!". That isn't what catches the mothers attention, though seeing Santana do anything other than stalk up to her
/room is a bit concerning. What catches the older Latina's attention is the very noticeable—slightly off pitch—humming being emitted from her daughter. She's… giddy. Like a schoolgirl.
The Cheerio's mother grins to herself before she chuckles and continues cutting the plantains. She knew this day would come eventually. Santana finally has a crush. For most parents this wouldn't be news for their child, who also happens to bea
/junior already, but oddly enough in all of Santana's high-school experience, this kind of aura around the brunette has only occurred one other time—however briefly—when she met that Puck boy. That was freshman year. The first week to beexact
/(the crush didn't last long, and Maria had often wondered why).
Unbeknownst to Maria, this was so much more than a crush.
Santana practically saunters into the kitchen after changing out of her cheering uniform and into normal mundane clothes, still humming a sappy slow song, not caring that she's so obviously off pitch, to grab some strawberries from the fridge. Her motherraises
/an eyebrow before clearing her throat and attempting to be nonchalant despite her obvious interest in the situation at hand. Could it even be called a situation?
"So, anything happen at school today?"
The seemingly oblivious teen twirls—actually twirls—where she is standing and pops an entire strawberry in her mouth, spitting out the stem a couple seconds later.
"Nope. Uneventful. Lacking events."
And yeah, Maria would have believed it if Santana hadn't smiled so large—at nothing—that her mother wasn't slightly concerned, I mean, she's never seen her smile that large before. It was alarming.
"You sure? Nothing at all?"
Santana slows her mini-dance to a halt and mirrors her mother's eyebrow raise, not lost on her mother's attempt to be nosy at her sudden show of happiness. "Positive. Nothing happened. Boring classes, boring teachers, and now, I am off to do boring homework."
/She sing-songs as she skips off to the staircase, not before placing a kiss on her mother's cheek. "Adios mami."
As she reaches the top of the staircase, Santana sporadically jumps in place and shoots her fists up in victory, withholding a giddy squeal as best she can. She calms down from her silent victory dance and looks up at the ceiling with a deep breath and
/an ear-splitting smile.
She quietly runs into her room and throws her cheer bag on her bed, homework all but a memory at this point. Unzipping her bag, she pulls out the slip of paper that she had been so keenly aware of for the past half an hour since she'd left the school.
"Gotcha." She mumbles to herself as she pulls out her phone and copies down the phone number softly written on the torn piece of pink journal paper. The back half of a unicorn decorated the corner piece of paper, and the brunette smiles at their innocence.
Took you long enough, text me ;)
P.S. I tried to not rip the unicorn but ever since the great tear of '09 I haven't been able to tear a piece of paper correctly.
Santana re-reads the message seven more time before she sees the small loopy arrow at the bottom right corner of the paper. She turns it over and in cursive is written,
P.S.S. I tried to draw that little guy with a top hat you were drawing all of 3rd period, but mine isn't as good as yours. I think being so pretty gives you superpowers. Text me.
She giggles to herself (yes, actually giggles) before she falls backwards on the bed with the note clutched closely to her chest, eyes closed, and a bright smile being projected toward no one in particular.
The diva rolls onto her stomach and pulls her phone out once again, typing out the name of the person who has her so frivolous. She can do this, she has to do it, why couldn't she just do it? Shaky fingers type out the first message andher
/thumb hovers over the blue send button.
To: Brittany S. Pierce.
I think you have superpowers too.
She can't help but feel like there's a lot riding on this one message. She looks over the message one more time, takes a breath, and can't help but close her eyes. She blindly hits the send button without so much as a third thought, and releases a breathshe
/didn't know she was holding. All of this breath-holding is making her a little light headed actually. She mentally chastises herself for being so flippant about this whole thing, until her phone vibrates not even two minutes later.
It's safe to say this isn't the last time she'll be lightheaded.
9:30pm Two Fridays later…
Santana, again, skips into the Lopez residence without announcing her arrival. Maria has grown used to this the past two weeks, not raising any questions toward her seemingly radiant (and poorly pitched) daughter. This time though, the brunette
/had a small bouquet of lilies.
Naturally, both of her mother's eyebrows lifts in curiosity. To say her interest is peaked is an understatement. Something is up with her daughter.
"Santanita? Who gave you those beautiful flowers?" Maria asks with the most oblivious tone she can muster, while also acting somewhat interested and uninterested as she reaches for a vase. Santana while on her "happy high"—what her mom likes to call it
/now—slides over to her mother who's on her toes trying to reach for a casual glass vase.
With less effort than her mother, Santana easily grabs the vase with her flexibility advantage, and twirls—again—to the sink. "Oh no one, just a gift from… the squad" (Well it isn't a complete lie). The corners of her mouth lift as she faltersat
/the end of the sentence.
"Practice this late? I thought nationals was over, is Sue planning something else?"
Santana lightly plays with the petals of the delicate lilies and smiles to herself as she mumbles, "Yeah,something like that".
Maria however, didn't notice the little note attached to the stem of a single lilac that reads:
San,
Lilies are the lesbian of flowers, and they smell like you. But you're more beautiful. And you're warmer than them, especially when you blush.
P.S. You look even beautiful-er when you blush.
Let's just say, this isn't the first bouquet of flowers Santana will bring home.
11:13pm two weeks later
Maria sits at her kitchen counter, nervously thumbing through TIME magazine trying to distract herself from the obvious fact that her daughter who said she'd be home by 10, still isn't home.
Feeling her leg start to nervously tap again, she takes a deep breath and sighs, setting her elbows on the counter as she taps her red and freshly-manicured nails on the marble countertop.
Just as she was reaching for her phone to call her daughter again, she heard a car door closing in her driveway. Sitting up straight, she can feel her nerves quickly being replaced with anger. Santana was going to be getting an earful from
/her today. She pushes up from her countertop stool to march toward the front door with a choice selection of (mostly Spanish) words to deliver.
Peering out the window, she could see Santana talking to someone who was being blocked by one of the trees in their front yard. So, doing what every mother of a teenager who shows up an hour late would do, she snooped. Albeit angrily. In an attempt toeavesdrop
/on her daughter's conversation, she presses her head against the front door, only to vaguely hear the younger Lopez practically giggling.
"This was really—really nice, B. Thank you for everything."
A low response was made by the mysterious date and the brunette began to blush profusely. The cheerio's mother is taken aback for a moment. Not only because Santana is apparently seeing someone and keeping it from her mother, but because this person has
/her daughter blushing like a pre-tween with an infatuation on a celebrity.
Wait a minute, who's B? Is that short for Ben? Or maybe that Blaine boy she's mentioned? But wait, isn't he gay?
In the midst of Maria's momentary shock and perplexion, Santana is pulled out of view quickly.
She starts towards the handle before she hears Santana giggling loudly.
"B—Britt, I gotta go."
"Stop my mom's gonna se-"
"Britt I'll see you tomor-"
"I swear to god you just can't control y-"
Every time she's stopped from speaking she's much more reluctant to leave whoever is with her. A light squeal is heard and finally a confused Maria hears a slightly more serious Santana say, "Okay okay, I really do have to go, I'm already like—crap—anhour
/late so if I don't text you in 20, I'm probably dead." Another response was made but it was too low and unfamiliar for Maria to make out.
Who's Britt? Maybe I misheard 'Brett'
"Yeah? I guess I could give you one more kiss, just in case I'm never seen again and all. You know, just to be safe."
Maria's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, she certainly didn't think Santana was kissing anyone. What did she expect, though? For her daughter to be a nun and not have any relationships? No, that's not what surprised her. She's always wanted Santanato
/have the full dating experience, and don't get her wrong, she's well aware of her past dates like Puck and that Finn boy for a day, but she's never had a steady boyfriend for more than 3 weeks. None of them ever made Santana laugh, talk, hell even flirt likethis
/before. Underneath Maria's scowl, there was a small grin of relief. She was subtly glad that her daughter finally found someone. Shaking her head with a light chuckle, Maria walks back to the counter, deciding it'd be best to act like
she hadn't heard anything.
Just as she sat down and picked up her magazine, she heard the front door open. She didn't even have to look up to know that her daughter had stopped walking, the clicking sound of heels halting. She could imagine a nervous Santana shifting her weighton
/the creaky floorboards and decides to put an end to her suffering. Kind of.
"So, an hour late mija? What do you have to say for yourself?" she said sternly without looking up from her magazine.
"I uh- lo siento mami, I lost track of time. Won't happen again I promise." Santana says through an airy sigh, still on the high from the date with this 'B'. Her mother decides to have some fun with this, but no beating around the bush. That's not theLopez
/way.
"So, how was your date?" she quipped.
"What?" her daughter replies quickly, no longer in her state of euphoria. Now she's acting as if she doesn't know what her mom is implying.
"Is there somebody you've been seeing? Hanging out with? Maybe, kissing?" her mom pushes, still without looking up from her magazine.
"Wh- I don't, I-" her daughter began to nervously stutter.
Maria simply chuckled as she pulled her gaze away from the magazine to look at her daughter for the first time since she'd walked in. "Tanita, you can drop the act I-" not finishing her sentence as her eyebrows furrow as she further observes her daughter.
"Santana? Chiquita, what is that on your face?" Maria tries to recall Santana leaving the house earlier for "practice", everything was the same barring the disheveled look and the… lipstick on her face? Maria wondered where her daughter had gotten pink
/lipstick, had she bought some? Surely Maria didn't own any, pink wasn't really her color anyway, nor was it Santana's. They both proudly wore a bold red as their trademark makeup feature. So, where did—oh.
She looked up at a pair of confused eyes, and she watched as she saw them grow large with the same realization. Santana quickly used her forearm to get rid of the lipstick, but it's too late.
Oh.
"Mami, I-" Santana started but is interrupted as Maria raises a hand to silence her, and the younger Latina knows much better than to ignore the hand. It's either the hand or la chancla.
"So, this, this 'B', the one you've been getting flowers from, she's a girl?" she asked with a hint of pain. Not for the reasons Santana is fretting over though.
Santana looked at the ground, musing over her feet. "Yeah. They're from a-a her."
"And what is this girls name?" Maria asks with her eyes closed.
She hears a sigh, "Brittany, Brittany S. Pierce." Maria looks up at her daughter expecting a cowering Santana at this sudden turn of events, only to be met with a firm face. Santana isn't going to be pushed around, not about this.
"And this Brittany, she's nice? She isn't messing around?" Maria quizzes.
Santana's jaw is released from its previously set position. She shakes her head fervently, "No, no no she's—she's really sweet. And caring and smart and beautiful and—" she could hear herself getting carried away so she stops herself before she
/starts describing everything she loves about Brittany and says, "I—I mean, you'd like her. Yeah you'd—uh, you'd like her a lot, mami." She stammered.
Maria releases another breath and opens her eyes. "Okay."
"Okay?" There was an air of disbelief around her response.
"Si mija. 'Okay'. But let me get used to this—this new information."
"You're not… mad? That I'm—I'm gay?"
"No Santanita, of course not. Honestly, I should have at least suspected something by your Halloween costume choices throughout the years. Remember Uncle Jesse?" she tries to lighten up the obviously dizzying mood.
Santana doesn't look as tired as Maria, she just stands there, shoulders slumped and heaving with ragged breaths. It looks like a giant weight has literally been lifted off her shoulders. It's like she can breathe, for the first time.
Maria notices the unshed tears in her daughter's eyes, and that's how she knows how heavily this been weighing on her.
"Santana, ven te pa' ca." She moved over to the couch and patted the seat next to her. Santana slowly walked to the couch and nearly fell onto it, immediately seeking out the embrace of her mother. She had no idea how this would have played out,dozens
/of scenarios that played through her head constantly in the comfort of her own bed were suddenly nonexistent. The feeling of relief was almost as painful as the fear of rejection. It's all so new and so scary, and she knows that not
everyone will react like this. Not everyone is her mother. With all these new emotions came a new set of worries, worries that brought tears. Lots of them.
"It's ok Chiquita, it's okay."
She let out all of her emotions. The worry that she would be kicked out, the fear that her parents (the only thing she has to family next to her Abuela) disowning her, the knowledge that the school will judge her, and worst of all, the feeling that it's
/all too good to be true. Brittany's too good to be true, and she knows that to be a fact.
The tears continue to fall until she hears her mother start to… sing.
"Palomita blanca,
De piquito azul,
Dejame en tus alas,
A ver a Jesús."
Santana immediately recognizes the Puerto Rican nursery song. It's the only one her mother ever sang to her, and it calmed her way more than she ever remembered it having the power to do. After five more minutes of just silence, Santana sniffs.
"Okay, tengo sueño so, I'm gonna go to sleep." She rubs at her puffy eyes and tries to get her face back to normal from its heat.
"Ok mija, go to bed, I'm just waiting on your father now. You two love to take your time in coming home." The older woman says as she shakes her head and lightly laughs. The younger Lopez however, tenses at the mention of her father. Noticing the sudden
/stillness of her daughter, Maria responds, "Don't worry, I won't tell your father, I'll leave that to you. But Santana, he'll understand. You don't need to worry."
She just receives a nod from the cheerleader as she watches her begin up the stairs. Before she does though she makes a point to call out,
"Santana!"
"Yes, mami?" as her head turns back to her mother.
"Could you make sure to clean yourself up before you come back from dates? I don't need to know what shade of lipstick your girlfriend is wearing on each date." She says with a nonchalant smirk.
She could see the red tint in her daughter's tan cheeks, even in the darkness of her house, "Uh—I uh, I mean yeah I—yeah. Ok." She stutters, embarrassed beyond comprehension before she slowly starts back up the stairs again, her ears probably flaming
/red.
As Santana enters her room, she falls back down on her bed and releases a long breath.
Well, I guess there's a first for everything.
It's safe to say isn't the last time Santana comes home with lipstick on her face.