Mother's Day.
Quinn dusted some blush across her face, studying her reflection in the mirror.
"Any plans today, sweetie?" Her mother, Judy, peeked her head around the bathroom door.
"I'm going to Finn's to help him make dinner for Carole. He suggested getting McDonald's, but I think his mom would appreciate something homemade a lot more." Quinn had to admit, one of the many reasons keeping her bound to Finn was Carole. She was so sweet and accepting of her, even after all that had happened last year.
"Have fun, hun. I'll be watching my soaps in my room!"
Quinn said the words she had been avoiding all day. "Happy Mother's Day!" Her tone was sugary sweet.
She knew she was a bad daughter. Today was a day for her mother, and all she could think about was her own child. Beth. She hadn't thought about her for a while. Though, really, she was always thinking about her, in her subconscious mind. Finn, the prom queen campaign, the honor roll, and torturing/being nice to Rachel—they were all distractions. All distractions from her sophomore year, ignored and covered in a layer of dust, yet never forgotten.
When she gave up Beth, and ended the year with a smile to Puck, she decided that junior year would be her year. Her year. But damn it, she'd never get it right, would she? She'd gone out with Puck on a few dates over the summer. Mostly babysitting his little sister while he got drunk, or going to see some action-packed movie she despised. And she realized that just being around him hurt too much.
She broke up with him in July, on his front porch. They were rocking back and forth slowly on the swing. She was in a soft sundress, her bare feet grazing the splintery wood, him with his hair growing longer and an oversized t-shirt. It felt like a romantic scene out of a movie, except for the fact that he was talking about his video game tactics.
"So then, after 3 hours, I pointed the gun—"
"Can you stop?" She interrupted him. "Just stop."
"What's wrong, babe?"
"I'm sick of it. All you talk about is video games. All you do is get drunk. We don't even do anything! We just watch your little sister and eat Cheetos and once in a while go to a movie."
"Q, I thought you liked being casual. And we had a jam session at the park last week, remember? I played guitar, you sang, it was chill. And you said something about me being the most romantic guy ever, or something."
Quinn grit her teeth and rest her face in her hands. "That was… very fun. It's just… do you want to know the truth? It hurts too much. Whenever I'm with you, all I can think of is that dreadful sophomore year, the worst year of my life, and how it was your fault—"
Puck rolled his eyes. "Quinn. You weren't that drunk. You had two wine coolers. You gave me the consent. You like me more than you ever liked Finn, and you know it."
A lump was forming in Quinn's throat. "You don't understand. I have issues. I have issues with trust, first of all. And I have issues with attention. When someone notices me, likes me, it makes me feel special. Like I'm actually worth something, you know? Because, in middle school, I was worthless."
"Quinn. I'm pretty sure you've been a damn cheerio your whole life. Didn't you have guys all over you?"
Shit. She had to tell him, didn't she?
"No. I was fat and ugly and glasses that were an inch thick and too many pimples."
Puck raised his eyebrows. "I think you're exaggerating. You're fucking gorgeous, and glasses or a tomato face or a few extra pounds couldn't change that."
Quinn ignored his compliment. "What hurts the most, though, is Beth. All I can think of is Beth and how her eyes are probably like yours and all of that shit. And I need to leave this year behind. I'm going to be independent."
"You can't just forget everything that's happened. Not just between us, but everything."
"I'll try my best. Because you, and my stretch marks, it's all wearing me down." She got up from the swing and stood at the top of the steps.
"I'm not one to go all soft, but Quinn, I meant all I said in the hospital. I love you."
"Don't you say that to a lot of girls?"
"I mean it, babe. You're setting yourself up to get more hurt."
Quinn wiped at her watering eyes. "Junior year is my year. Have a nice summer."
She went down the stairs without looking back.
…
That night, she made some decisions. She put her old report cards through the shredder. She leaned over the sink and dyed her hair a lighter blonde. She boxed up her clothes from when she was pregnant. She threw out those vitamins and pain medications she had never done away with. She drank a tall glass of iced tea that, out of habit, she had stopped drinking. Since apparently you shouldn't drink it while you're pregnant. But this Quinn Fabray wasn't pregnant. Had she ever been pregnant? Who was Beth?
….
Quinn shook her head, emerging from the painful memories. She waited until she could hear her mom's soap operas blasting ("I have something to tell you, Robert. And I am so, so sorry.") Then she dialed Finn's number.
"Hey, Q."
"I-I'm sorry, Finn. I can't make it tonight."
"But I can't cook! Last time I tried to make cookies, I nearly set the house on fire!"
"You'll just have to get your mom Chinese."
"We eat that every night."
"Get her some more expensive meal. I don't know. Use your brain. I have plans with my own mother."
She hung up. Trying to bargain with Finn was a waste of time. She dialed another number, because it was time to fix some things. It was a number she had deleted from her speed dial, but knew by heart anyway.
"Puckerone here."
"Umm, hi."
"Quinn? What are you doing, calling me? I thought we weren't on speaking terms. Are you drunk again? Are you gonna start yelling at me about your lack of abs?"
"Puck, I am completely sober, and I have perfectly nice abs, thank you very much. I wanted to know if you wanted to go somewhere."
"A date? My mom sort of wanted to watch cheesy rom-coms with me and the sis. She'll throw a fit if I don't. But I can make some sort of excuse. Should I bring wine coolers?"
"No, no. This isn't a date. This is serious. Obviously, it's Mother's Day, and all I can think about is… you know, her."
Puck knew exactly who she meant, just by the way her voice cracked. "What about her?"
"I want to visit her."
There was a loud noise on Puck's line.
"Are you okay, Puck?"
"Yeah. Just sort of fell of my chair. Literally. No biggie."
"I know Shelby lives an hour away, but I really, really need to see her. I don't think I'll be able to stand it if I don't."
"Your house in five?"
"Thank you, so much."
…..
Quinn missed this. Sitting in Puck's beat up car, listening to classic rock. The familiar drums and guitar riffs only slightly eased her tension as Puck turned into Shelby's driveway. She lived in a ritzy development, in a sort of empty looking mansion not too different from Quinn's.
Puck parked the car, and then grabbed Quinn's hand. A chill went up her arm, but she didn't let go. It felt natural and right and intimate and like everything fit like a puzzle, just for a moment. Then he asked, "Are you ready?"
"I don't know. I really don't. Are you?"
She looked him in the eyes for the first time since last summer. They reflected back an unexpected trace of concern.
"I don't think I'll ever be."
They walked up to the door, holding hands. In Puck's other hand, he held a bouquet of flowers he had picked up at the florist on the way. Quinn pressed the doorbell, her shaky hands nearly missing it.
They could hear Broadway tunes drifting from the opened window, which made Quinn happy. Shelby opened the door a moment later.
"Quinn? Noah? Oh my word. I never thought you would visit!"
"Happy Mother's Day," Puck said, handing her the bouquet.
"We thought it might be appropriate to visit Beth today. And… we just really missed her." Quinn whispered.
"She's right here in the living room! Please, come in. Do you want something to drink?"
They both shook their heads. Quinn knew she couldn't possibly stomach anything.
"Beth, baby, you have visitors!"
Puck and Quinn shared a look, then entered the high-ceilinged living room. Their eyes swept across the glistening chandelier, the posh couches, and the plush carpet. On the carpet sat a little baby, playfully hitting a miniature keyboard.
They slowly walked over to Beth, kneeled, and just really looked at her. Her hair was dark and wavy, like Puck's. Her wide eyes were framed in dark lashes, the same hazel tone as her mother's.
Quinn carefully lifted her into her arms. She closed her eyes, feeling the dark curls tickle her cheek; her warm, tiny little body wrapped around hers.
"Ma." Beth whispered. She looked over at Puck and grasped his shoulder with her chubby, dimpled baby hands. "Da."
And that was all they really needed to hear.