The looming date of her college orientation stuck close to her mind, and she had already begun to view her room with a kind of anticipated nostalgia, as though she was living in sepia toned memories of her last few days in Lima as opposed to actually experiencing it. The feeling seemed to spread through her room like a growing pool of quicksand, slowly pulling her trophies and pictures away into the image of some dusty old box in the attic marked Quinn's (or Lucy's) things, and she realised all she wanted to save were her books. Books had been her friend when she was Lucy and she had none, and then she had turned to them again when she was surrounded by friends that she didn't like. She had lazed through anthologies of writers she couldn't relate to during the final months of her pregnancy, glad for the inactivity when her body was constantly humming and kicking, and she had sped through the difficult books that she had avoided reading for years after the accident, because her entire body ached after physiotherapy, and the act of reading fast seemed close enough to doing something to appease her.
Once her books were packed safely away, and her clothes were sorted through into takes and don't takes (and she only felt a small pang of guilt when she decided the ripped jeans of her Skanks were a take after she had placed yet another baby doll dress in the don't take pile), she sat in her room looking at the rest of her things, things that she is sure will be forgotten as soon as the car pulls out of the driveway. The many trophies, all with tiny girls with tinier poms poms in their hands standing on top, had finally lost their shine with a whimper the day of graduation, after they had already heavily dulled after her father left. As they lined her shelves they had over time morphed into a grotesque display of all the parts she didn't like of high school (the parts that she didn't like of herself in high school). She imagined carrying them around with her throughout her whole life, and the thought of her future family home displaying her old cheerleading trophies was a little too familiar, an old clip in the montage that used to run through her mind when she would imagine marrying Finn and going into real estate and ultimately spending each waking minute resenting her mother, because she couldn't resent herself.
She looked instead to the bottom shelf of her bookshelf, where she had placed the framed photo from the yearbook of Glee years ago. Rachel had got them all a framed copy, and had handed them out to everyone after Glee practice. Quinn had rolled her eyes, and she is pretty sure she saw Santana throwing hers into the bin on the way out the door, but she had kept hers anyway, and let it take a place in her room (even if it was the bottom shelf, she had still wanted it there, maybe as a reminder to herself back then that she could be nice, even if no one knew it). Quinn needed to take some memories of high school with her to college, and the trophies were left behind as the photo was moved slowly into the take pile of her things, and placed just a little bit too delicately on top.
A few days before she was set to go, when she was staring at the half filled boxes that covered the floor of her room, the door opened and Santana came walking in and sat herself right down next to Quinn, and started talking without a hello. Santana spoke about knowing that it was smart to go to college right away (but god, when had Santana cared about what was the smart thing to do? She did what she wanted when she wanted, and Quinn bit her lip to stop her from reminding Santana of that) but that she wanted to go to New York to be free. They still thought of New York as something too unreal to be real, where Santana could kiss Brittany on the street and Quinn could imagine waking up next to someone (but it was never just someone and always Rachel)in her apartment without cold sweats about living her mother's life.
Quinn understood the urgency that was there, the fear that she didn't get away now, away from Lima and towards something entirely different, that they would miss their chance. The need to go now was the same as the itch of a first grader to run to the playground at lunch time, the intangible fear that if you don't get it now, you won't get it ever. Quinn lived her life by that fear, and she always knew Santana, with her impulsive actions and quick mouth, was the same. But tonight Santana just spoke, because she knew Quinn understood, and Quinn just listened and made murmuring noises at the right places and she leaned against Santana's side as they both sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes, knowing that she will remember Santana as this part of her best friend, as the one that is too similar to her to handle.
After a while Santana noticed Quinn's eyes were shut, and she leaned back into Quinn and laid her head on her shoulder.
"Hey Q?" she said softly, as though wanting to keep Quinn in this half state of wake and sleep (and Quinn would later call it contentment, when she learned to recognise it as what it was).
"Yeah?" Quinn mumbled back, turning her head and rubbing her face against the top of Santana's head.
"Why did you buy that ticket for Rachel?"
Quinn's head stilled, but didn't move back and Santana fought back a smile that Quinn hadn't thrown her off and told her to mind her own business, which showed how much they've grown together just as much as the fact that they're leaning on each other at all.
Quinn sighed, resigned, as though she had been preparing herself in anticipation of this question (though Rachel, for all her ever curious, I-have-to-know manner hadn't needed to ask, she just knew) "She's important to me"
Santana let out a small scoff, but it wasn't harsh like it used to be, when she would want the force of it to startle someone else. She was soft, and Quinn knew that Santana was testing out her own theory here and treating it delicately, afraid that if she made the wrong step Quinn would spook out. She probably would.
"I'm important to you too Q, but I don't see a ticket in my hands for if I go to New York" Santana replied.
"Yeah but –" Quinn faded off.
"But what?" Santana lifted her head up forcing Quinn to sit up as well. Santana stared at her, tilting her head a little to make sure Quinn couldn't look away.
"I know you Santana. I know you'll call me every few weeks and ask me if I've regained the baby fat or whether I've finally gotten laid and then you'll put Brittany on to ask her the questions you've told her to ask about how I'm feeling and doing"
Santana laughed and let out a small grin, before nodding at Quinn to continue.
"I know I will see you again, but Rachel... Rachel will go to NYADA and realise that there are people out there who will be her friends without this history behind them where she just got hurt over and over, and she'll begin to realise that I'm not worth the conciliatory prize of being her friend when she'll have people around her who have never made her feel as awful as I have"
"Quinn she won't just stop –"
"She will San. God know I've told her enough times that she needs to grow out of Finn. She'll grow out of me too."
Santana was quiet, and she looked back down at her legs for a few moments. Quinn rubbed her lips together waiting for Santana to look back up. She still wasn't used to being this open with Santana (and the fear that she would use any weakness of Quinn's to steal head cheerleader out from under her still irrationally remained) but she wanted to keep Santana in her life, and she had begun to realize there was no way she would unless she began to at least try and tell her the truth.
"Okay…" Santana finally started. "So if she's going to move on from you, why did you buy the tickets for her?"
Quinn looked down at her own legs, and they both sat there separately in their identical positions. Heads down, knees together, hands sitting on the edge of the mattress. It goes to show just how alike they really were, as when they got closer to the truth, to actually being themselves, they began to protect themselves physically from each other and box themselves in, giving each other breathing space.
"I don't want to – I can't let her do that. I need her to still be around. I need her to want to be my friend until I can finally…" Quinn swallowed and Santana's grip on the mattress tightened, as if she knew something big was coming "Until I can finally tell her about why I need to be around her so badly".
"Oh." The grip on the mattress flexed, and Quinn stared at the fingers as they curled, trying to read Santana's reaction from the colour of her knuckles because she was too afraid to read it from the look in her eyes. "So you..." Santana let it hang.
"Yeah. I… For a while now"
"Okay. That's – that's okay Quinn"
Quinn let out a chuckle, and shifted a little closer to Santana, placing them back into how they were before.
"It's really not."
Santana glanced up quickly, a protest on her lips.
But Quinn continued.
"It's not" She rubbed her lips together again "But I think that it's beginning to be something like it".
"Yeah" Santana agreed, settling back down. "Yeah, that's okay too".
When Santana left she kissed Quinn on her forehead with a tenderness that had Quinn blushing, but she leaned forward into it just the same.
She had called Rachel once or twice over the past few weeks since she waved goodbye to her at the train station, and Rachel was always excited to talk to her and asked about her in a way that made Quinn smile to herself for the next few days afterwards. She didn't expect to talk to her again before she's settled in somewhere new and she can allow herself to call Rachel more often, when it's her new life that Rachel is a part of and she's no longer tainted by the old one.
But her phone rings the day before the move, and when she answers it Rachel's voice comes down the line with this happy "Hi!" that's as though she's in a middle of a laugh, and Quinn gets so enraptured by it that her own "Hello!" is far louder and far more enthusiastic that she can justify to herself later when she replays the conversation in her head and groans at her own complete inability to play it cool.
"I just wanted to see how your moving was going. Are you all packed?"
"No, I'm nowhere done"
"Quinn! You're moving tomorrow!" Rachel chastises, but she's teasing and Quinn can hear the smile in her voice.
"I know, I know, I'll do it. How's New York?"
"It's huge and amazing and slightly dirtier than I remembered"
Quinn laughs at that, too loud again, and realises she's pacing up and down the floor of her room. She stops and flops back down on her bed, "The great New York is dirty?"
"I may have remembered it a tad nostalgically in my head I'll admit. But I can't wait until you're close enough that I can visit"
Quinn breathes out a "Yeah" and brings a hand to her cheek, as a defence against the blush that is spreading across her face.
"Hey, look I've got to go, I was just waiting for the subway and thought I'd say hello, but please call me soon so we can chat!"
"Okay I definitely will, I'll call you the minute I get to New Haven"
Rachel laughs again, and Quinn chuckles in spite of herself. "Let yourself settle in first"
"Yeah, I guess you're right" Her hand is covering her entire face now, in a final full-fledged surrender to how much this conversation is affecting her.
"I've got to go, but I will definitely see you soon Quinn!"
Quinn drops the phone next to her and lies on the bed staring at the ceiling and replays Rachel's voice saying see you soon so certainly. Damn it if that isn't a promise.
She gets the packing finished within the hour after they hang up, and she taped up her last box with a flourish. She had the buzzing energy of a Cheerios work out, the same kind of feeling of being bone tired but quivering with adrenaline anyway, ready for the next round to begin. She makes her way downstairs and turning through the living room before spotting her mum sitting in the dining room at the fully set table, and the good china is out.
Judy has even set up the candelabra to sit in the middle of the table and she looks tiny next to it in her seat next to the head of the table (and Quinn tries not to think about the reason why her mum still sits next to the head instead of the head, as then she'd have to face the fact that her mother lost her husband when she lost her father, and the tenuous scab that has settled over her wounds since she moved back in is not strong enough to sympathise with that). Instead Quinn smiles at her, a lopsided, unsure smile, but Judy smiles widely back.
"What's going on?" Quinn asks, her smile growing at Judy's reaction.
"It's your last night here; I thought we'd do something special"
"Oh." Quinn glanced around the room, as though looking for someone to come out of hiding and explain what was going on. "Like what?"
"I got you pizza from that place you and your friends like, Breadstix, it should be arriving shortly"
"You got us pizza?"
"Yes, you still like pizza don't you? I know I haven't had it with you in a while".
"I don't think I've had pizza with you ever, mom" Quinn said softly, leaning her body up against the door of the dining room "We never ate it when I was a kid".
Judy looks slightly mournful then, and Quinn felt guilty, looking at her mother being eclipsed by a table that always looks too empty these days. The silverware looks like it has been polished, and they're talking about pizza for god's sake (but she knows they aren't and she takes one look again at the ridiculous candelabra that looks like it has new candles as well and she suddenly feels mournful as well)
The doorbell ring before either of them can say anything about it, and her mother gets up and makes her way towards the front door, but not before turning to Quinn and giving her a more tenuous smile than there was before, but it suddenly cuts right through to Quinn about just how much her mother wants her to want to do this.
"Oh. Well, then this is special isn't it?" Judy says, with a small shake of wrist, and it reads like a half shrug, probably a creation after being told for years that ladies don't shrug.
Quinn nods. "I guess it is"
Quinn makes her way towards the table and sits down, choosing to sit opposite her mum (in Frannie's seat, if she's to be honest) and waits for the last supper to begin.
They don't speak much, aside from Judy inquiring about whether she's nervous about the move and makes small references to her own college orientation. It's over by 8pm and Quinn heads back upstairs to finish the last little details, and her mum goes and places the pizza boxes out in the garbage bins, and overall it is just a quick dinner with her mom that shouldn't mean much of anything at all.
But the image of Judy smiling softly at her as she serves Quinn a piece of cheese pizza on her special wedding china, and then sitting down and delicately cutting her piece as though it is foie gras settles deep within Quinn, and has her holding onto her mum tight the next morning.
On the very start of the car trip, when everything was finally packed and Quinn had paused for a moment before shutting the car door and settling in, they drove by her old church, placed within a few blocks of their family house. It was no doubt a selling point that had convinced her father to buy the house before she and Frannie were born, a stern eye to watch them even when they were playing in the park opposite. Quinn sat in the back seat with the extra box of books in her lap that hadn't fit into the trunk and thought of going to Sunday school. She still remembered the pretty teacher Miss Johnston, who wore her hair in a braid that Lucy emulated for months, demanding that it be tied that way with such a stubborn insistence that bemused and amused Judy, who had raised a demure and quiet and never stubborn child.
She could still picture her smiling down at the circle of children and telling the stories of Noah and Job and Lot and men and women who were punished for their sins. Above the blackboard was a mural that had been painted by some failed-painter-turned-housewife of a smiling god, with a long white beard trailing down and fading into the clouds, so it looked as those he was sitting on a pillow of his own hair. Lucy would look behind the Miss Johnston's head as she told her stories, and would be confused that this man was the same one who was turning people into pillars of salt.
Afterwards, her mom would pick her up and ask in a sing song voice to Frannie "How was church, girls?" and then she would focus back on the road as Frannie would talk about the older class and what they learned that day. Lucy would always sit quietly in the back seat and pray (but only ever after taking out the braid in her hair, as even then Lucy knew that she wanted that braid for reasons that were wrong and still thought she could hide them in the safety of 'if I can't see you, you can't see me'. Later when she became Quinn and realised that she couldn't hide, she stopped asking for the braid at all). She would pray and think back to the lessons of what happened to sinners and how they were punished and she would hope that she would not be one of them. When she closed her eyes and imagined God listening she didn't see the hairy, smiling man of the faded mural but instead the furrowed brow of her father.
Quinn imagines little Lucy sitting next to her as they speed away, and thinks about how happy she would be to have all her books with her and to be able to go someplace new where she might be liked. It's this thought that has her tearing up for the first time in this whole process of packing up her entire life and she almost wants to yell that she'll go back and work with Sue as an assistant coach and marry some football recruiter and accept a future that she is not so incredibly hopeful and desperate for than the one she is wanting more and more as she gets further and further away from this town. It's when she meets Judy's eyes in the rear view mirror and Judy smiles at her quickly before turning back to the road, that Quinn thinks of new beginnings and acceptance and the lesson of Lot's wife and never turning back.