The night before the wedding you don't really know what to do with yourself. You keep going over all the arrangements for the following day in your head, trying to think of anything you've forgotten. You're convinced you're going to wake up in the morning and realise you've forgotten to book cars to take guests to the venue or, even worse, realise you've forgotten to book the venue completely.
Brittany isn't there to keep you grounded either. You'd both decided that you should spend the day before the wedding apart, to make the ceremony even more special. You managed weeks and months without seeing her when you were in college or New York, but now these twenty-four hours seem longer than any time you've been without her before. Maybe it's because you know she'll be your wife tomorrow. Your wife. You smile at the thought.
In the midst of your panic, the doorbell rings. You sigh at the thought of having to answer it, knowing your parents are out at dinner. As you're walking down the stairs, the doorbell rings again. You scoff. Who could be so impatient? Don't they know you have more important things to be doing?
You open the door a little too forcefully, and when you see who's on the other side of it you freeze. You didn't expect your abuela to be here, tonight. You didn't expect to see her at all. Ever. It throws you off.
"Is everything okay?" you ask her. She may have hurt you and broken your heart in ways that no-one else never could, but she's still your abuela and deep down you still care about her.
She takes a moment before answering. She looks as nervous as you feel. "I wanted to talk with you," she says. "About the wedding."
You don't have time for this. If you've come to try and talk me out of it then I'm not-"
"No," she interrupts, sensing your impatience. "I just want to talk. I promise."
You don't know whether you should trust her, but your instincts take over and you step aside to let her into the house. She treads carefully, looking around at the unfamiliar territory. She hasn't been to visit you or your mother in this house for the past three years. Since you came out to her.
You close the door, and guide her into the living room. "Take a seat."
She looks at the photographs around the room. Her eyes spending extra moments looking at one of you and Brittany. She keeps glancing around as she sits down. Long seconds pass.
"What did you want to talk about?" you ask.
She snaps out of it, and realises where she is. She swallows nervously. You can see how difficult this is for her. "Can you tell me about her?"
That blindsides you. "About Brittany?"
She nods. "How did you meet her?"
You're afraid to give her any information about your relationship with Brittany. Everything you've ever said to her about Brittany before has been met with hate, and it's your natural reaction to not want to talk about it. But you decide to give it one last shot.
"In high school. Freshman year. We both tried out for the Cheerios, both got in without question. We automatically clicked, I can't describe it. We just… fit together, I guess."
"And did you… " she trails off. "Sorry. Did you date her then?"
You think back over all the stages your relationship went through before you even came close to dating. "No. Not at first. She's always been so open about who she likes, who she finds attractive. She's never had a problem pointing out a girl she thought was hot." You can see your abuela try her best not to flinch at the thought. "But it took me a lot longer. A lot longer to accept that side of myself. I went a little off the rails - partied a lot, hooked up with boys a lot - anything to keep my mind off it."
Your abuela looks intrigued. "You haven't always been okay with it?"
You laugh. "No, I was terrified. Not just of people's reactions, but because of what it meant." You both share a sad smile. "I was terrified that I'd never be able to get married, or have children. That one day my wife could be in the hospital, dying, and I wouldn't be recognised as family, so wouldn't be allowed in to see her. It's just… so overwhelming."
"What changed?"
You smile. "Brittany. Not that she changed, but I realised I was in love with her, and I realised that she was in love with me, too. We hadn't admitted it, but I could tell. I pictured the future, and imagined Brittany by my side and suddenly those other things mattered less. I'd give up my right to be married, or the ability to have my own children, if it meant spending my life with Brittany at my side. She's everything to me. Once I started focusing on Brittany, and less on everything else, accepting myself became much easier."
"Brittany is the same Brittany you mentioned when you came to speak with me, yes?"
You thought back to coming out and how you'd told her that when you were with Brittany you finally understood what people were talking about when they talk about love. "Yes, same Brittany. It's always been her."
There's a silence for a moment.
"Have you… been with other girls?" You can't actually believe that these words are coming from your abuela. That she's actually asking you about girls you've dated.
"When Britt and I left for college we broke up for a while. I had a girlfriend in New York. Her name was Dani."
"Did you love her?"
"I did, but it wasn't even a fraction of what I feel for Britt."
Silence takes over the room again. You don't know what's happening right now. This is very out of the blue and you aren't sure what your abuela is trying to achieve.
"I've been praying, Santana. I've been praying every single day. Every day for this to get better. To bring you back into my life. Every day for the past three years I've prayed."
You knew there was a motive. "You can stop praying. I don't want to be saved, or changed. I'm happy the way I am. More than happy actually."
Your abuela shakes her head. "No, no, Santana. Not for you. I've been praying to God to give me the strength and the guidance to repair this relationship with you. It has been so hard, Santana. So difficult. I've spent my whole life believing that love is between a man and a woman. I've never known anyone who didn't believe the same. Then you tell me that you love girls the way you're meant to love boys, and I… it broke me, Santana. It did. It broke me into a million pieces. I've tried to put myself back together. but there is a piece that's missing. And that's you."
You're getting a little choked up hearing what she has to say. You don't want to get your hopes up, but there's a spark within you waiting to ignite.
"I still don't fully understand it. I don't fully grasp it. But, Santana, I love you and God is telling me that I need to do what is right."
"What does that mean?"
She takes a deep breath. "If there's still room for me, I'd like to come to your wedding."
The words hit you hard, and you immediately feel your eyes fill up with tears. "Really?" you manage to squeak out.
"I would never forgive myself if I didn't watch you marry the love of your life. Santana, it might take me another year or two to truly understand what you have, but I will try. With God as my witness, I will try."
Before you know it you're on your feet, taking the few steps to wrap your arms around her and hug her. She hesitates slightly, but then hugs you back. You never, ever thought that you'd share a moment like this with your abuela ever again, and you start to sob on her shoulder. She rubs her hands along your back, comforting you like she has done for the past twenty years.
"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you," you repeat. This is the greatest gift anyone could have given you for your wedding.
"So, I can come?" she asks you.
You pull out of the hug and look her in the eyes. You wipe away your tears and smile. "Front and center, just like we always imagined."