Disclaimer: The song is Beyoncé's I Was Here.
it's all coming back to me now
chapter two
THREE YEARS LATER…
Jesse woke up that morning with the familiar weight in his heart having seemingly doubled overnight. But that wasn't a surprise for him. Every year on this day, the ache on his heart grew furiously larger, threatening to consume every inch of his soul.
Today marked three years since he had last seen Rachel.
What a disaster telling her about his engagement had been.
He had been unofficially engaged to Andrea Cohen, the daughter of one of his father's associates, since he was fifteen. Born to parents who weren't in love with each other and only stayed married for convenience, having an arranged marriage didn't bother him all that much. After all, Andrea was pretty and they were good friends. She was a lesbian, but she couldn't come out to her parents or to anyone that could tell them, knowing they would exile her from their life if she shamed them in public, as she called it herself.
Once they turned eighteen, their parents started to subtly pressure them into getting married. Claire St. James had gotten married to Jonathan when she was eighteen, and Anne-Marie Cohen had done the same thing to her husband Isaiah. However, Jesse and Andrea managed to convince their fathers it would be best if they were done with college before they married. To soothe them, he got Andrea a ring and they moved on to college on different cities. He went to NYU and she packed up and left to UCLA.
Once they were done with college, Jonathan St. James and Isaiah Cohen took again to pressuring their children into getting married. But Jesse, again, managed to convince them he wanted to be successful as an actor before starting a new family, saying he wanted to make sure he could provide for his wife with his own money, not their families'. Isaiah was impressed, he could tell, but his own father wasn't; however, Jesse didn't care a bit. As long as he had Isaiah Cohen siding with him, he knew they would be okay.
Two years after that conversation, Jesse was cast in The Wizard of Oz and met Rachel. He fell in love with her the moment he saw her sing, during the audition process, and he knew right away he had found the one he wanted to share his life with. Rachel was real, sweet, funny, caring and gorgeous. She was as driven and ambitious as he was, but with a tender side that he hadn't seen in any girl before. She sang with her heart, and being with her made him a better actor, a better performer, a better man.
That was when his arrangement with Andrea began weighing on him. Knowing he was hiding from Rachel something that was so important began to eat away at his conscience, and it didn't help that his parents, and Andrea's, began again with the pressure for them to get married. Now that he didn't have any reason to postpone the wedding, he began to panic.
He tried to tell Andrea she had to come out to her parents no matter how the outcome would be, but she adamantly refused. He understood she was terrified of losing her status of mommy and daddy's little girl, but he had much more to lose. Rachel wouldn't forgive him for his lie, and he couldn't imagine his life without her anymore.
At that fateful night when he blurted out his secret to Rachel, he came to his house from a heated argument with his father. Jonathan St. James had curtly told his son he wouldn't accept any more postponing from his part. He had to get married to Andrea before that year was over. Jesse had argued he didn't feel ready to get married, plus, Andrea didn't seem all that anxious to get married. But Jonathan wouldn't be moved from his position.
Then he fled to Rachel's apartment, and the rest was history.
Once he realized he wouldn't find her, he threw a fit with Andrea, and then his parents. He told Andrea she was spoiled and being selfish, and told her what exactly he had lost because of her own insecurities. Andrea's guilt was overwhelming, and she apologized profusely, stunned at seeing her lifelong friend so emotional over a woman. In fact, she embarrassedly admitted that for the longest time she thought he was gay and wanted to stay in the closet for the same reason she did.
With his parents the blowout was worse. Jonathan was furious over what he saw as cheating to Jesse's fiancée, and Claire, his mother, claimed she wouldn't ever be able again to look at Andrea's and her parents' face. Jesse actually didn't give a damn. He had already lost everything he had ever wanted in his personal life because of them, and they couldn't harm him professionally (oh, the perks of not following on his father's footsteps). So, he turned his back on them and walked away with no weight in his conscience.
He focused on the musical and his professional life. He pretended he didn't see the pity in April's eyes when she looked at him, the flash of concern in Will's. Of course, every now and then he would see a glimpse of a dark head full of hair in a petite woman and his heart would race, but it never was Rachel. He even thought he actually saw her, a year after she left, on the stage door crowd of his last show, but when he looked again she wasn't there.
After three years, one would think the pain would have lessened.
Maybe for some people it would have.
But not for Jesse.
For Jesse, Rachel's absence still ached like the first day. Every day, he couldn't stop thinking they were supposed to be married by now, maybe expecting their first child. A little girl, maybe, with his curly hair and Rachel's bright dark eyes? Or perhaps a little boy, with Rachel's glossy straight locks and his baby blues?
Those were his thoughts when he walked in the theater that morning. He was starting rehearsals for Hairspray, when Artie Abrams, an intern for their director, approached him. "Hey, Jesse. There's this guy waiting to talk to you".
Jesse frowned. "Who is he?"
"I don't know. He said he has a message to you. It's not from your parents, I've already checked", the bespectacled boy nodded.
"Thanks, Artie." Fixing his backpack strap on his shoulder, he massaged tense neck muscles. "Where's this guy?"
Artie pointed at a tall guy with dark, closely cropped hair and hazel eyes. He looked bored as Mike Chang, their choreographer, ran over the You Can't Stop the Beat number onstage with the cast, his long legs stretched in front of him and his feet propped up on the seat in front of the one he was sitting on. From what he could see, the guy was bulky, thickly-muscled arms bursting through his shirt sleeves.
Approaching him, Jesse tapped the guy's shoulder. "Excuse me. You wanted to talk to me?"
The guy stood up, his eyes flashing with something Jesse didn't understand as he shoved his hands on his jeans' pockets. "You Jesse St. James?" He drawled, cautiously.
Jesse nodded. "And you are?"
"I have a message for you", he said instead, pulling a wrinkled card from one of his pockets. Handing it out to him, he waited for Jesse's reaction.
It was a small, square card made of cream-colored thick paper. There was just one single word printed on the front of the card. "Callbacks", Jesse read, and frowned. "What's this?"
"Turn it over".
There was a neatly written message on the back of the card. Jesse's frown deepened as he read it.
Today, 6:30 p.m.
Show the card to the bouncer when you arrive.
Don't be late.
"Who sent me this?"
"The person who will be waiting for you at Callbacks at that time", the man replied cryptically. "Don't be late", he reinforced, and left.
Jesse seriously considered ignoring the card and not going to this Callbacks thing, whatever it was. But something was prodding him into going, his natural curiosity taking the best at him as he packed up for the night and hurried to the subway station, so he could take the train to the address he could see printed on the bottom of the card.
It was a pub, filled with students. A tall, blonde, green-eyed man was the bouncer, although he looked so young he could pass for one of the students, watching the line with half-lidded eyes as he chatted lazily with an African-American guy who was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.
Without a word, Jesse gave the card to the blonde guy, who read it. His eyes widened and they slid up and down Jesse, as if appraising him. Showing the card to the African-American guy, he quietly mumbled something to the latter, who nodded. Nodding back, the blond turned to Jesse and told him, "Follow me".
He walked in the club, and Jesse followed him, hearing the grumbled complaints of the patrons waiting on the line. He could hear the smooth voice of the bouncer they had left behind (or at least he supposed it was his voice), but it vanished as they burrowed deeper into the club. From what Jesse could see, there was a small stage with a piano, a stool and a microphone. The guy who had taken the card to him was behind the bar counter, cleaning the polished surface with a rag, and he nodded at the blond, who nodded back.
They stopped in front of a door, which had a small star sticker on it. The blond knocked twice, and Jesse's blood froze in his veins as he recognized the voice that came muffled from the other side of the closed door. "Come in".
Once the man opened the door, Jesse came face to face, for the first time in three years, with the woman who had been haunting his dreams since the last time he laid his eyes on her.
The first thing he noticed was that Rachel had lost weight. She was already tiny three years ago, but she seemed frailer now, somehow. She was wearing dark skinny jeans paired with a long-sleeved white sweater, black leather belt and black leather pumps. Her rich dark hair was shorter than he remembered, tied back in a ponytail.
Silence fell over them. Jesse broke it. "Rachel", he breathed. Ignoring all the questions he had to ask, he raced to her and took her in his arms, squeezing her tightly. He felt tears prickling in his eyes, and he breathed deeply, trying to keep himself from crying. "Oh, my God, Rachel!"
She hugged him back, slightly, but soon left his arms, a guarded look on her face. A weak smile curved her lips. "Hey, Jesse". She shoved her hands inside her jeans pocket to hide how shaky they were. Her eyes slid up and down his body, and her heart clenched at how good he looked. She fidgeted and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, there was a second knock on the door. "Come in", she said with a sigh.
A gorgeous Latina peeked in from the crack of the door, completely ignoring Jesse. "Hey, Rach. El momento es llegado"
Rachel smiled at the woman and nodded. "I'll be right there. Brad's here already?"
"Si", the Latina said and closed the door.
With a small, apologetic smile, Rachel turned to him. "I'm really sorry, but I have a performance to make. Maybe…" She seemed hesitant and then took a deep breath. "… maybe we could talk after I'm done? I won't take long, I promise. An hour, tops". She looked briefly at the door that led to the adjoining room and looked back at him. "We really have to talk".
"Of course", Jesse said and gracefully left the dressing room.
Left alone, Rachel quickly made her way to the adjoining room. Breathing deeply, she leaned heavily against the small vanity, trying to calm her racing heart. She didn't expect to see Jesse again, not after his lies and the pain they caused her.
A pretty blonde was watching her from her seat, a worried frown on her face. "Rach? Everything okay?"
Shaking her head negatively, Rachel fought against the onslaught of tears that threatened to take over her. The blonde hurried towards her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. "Oh, baby", the blonde said. "Are you sure you have to do this?"
Hastily wiping the tears that bubbled in her eyes, Rachel nodded. "Yes, I am, Quinn. I can't do this alone anymore. I need help, and I need his help. She needs his help."
Quinn squeezed her again and kissed her cheek supportively. "Okay, Rach. If you think you must, then you must." She let go of Rachel, her heart clenching at the small purplish bruises that Rachel had carefully hidden with makeup on her clavicle.
Rachel knew what her friend was thinking. It had been a hard six months, and she had resisted as much as she could, but in the end she had to face reality. She needed Jesse's help, and the sooner she got it, the better, for all of them.
"Rachel?" Noah's voice came from outside. "It's time".
The room was filled to the brim with people, mostly late teens and young adults, talking among themselves, socializing in a way Jesse hadn't done in years. Jesse himself was sitting by the counter, nursing a cold beer. The man who had taken him the card was the bartender and was shooting small glares at him, a deep frown etched on his forehead.
"So… who are you?" Jesse asked casually.
"Puck", the man replied. But before he could say anything else, the soft opening chords of a song began to echo on the room, and silence began to fall over the patrons. A single spotlight fell on the lone figure onstage, and Jesse's heart raced as he heard Rachel sing for the first time in three years.
I wanna leave my footprints on the sands of time
Know there was something there
And something that I left behind
Leave something to remember
So they won't forget.
Jesse frowned at Rachel's choice of song. Why was she singing something so… morbid? He was half-expecting her to sing Adele's Someone Like You or something like that, something that told him about the pain and the heartache he had caused her with his lies.
Puck was glaring murderously at him now, the pretty Latina standing by his side mumbling calming words in Spanish. "I know you want to kill him. I want that too. But remember, él es el padre de la niña".
"Yo lo sé", Puck growled. "But he can still talk to my fellow Jew with a few broken bones."
"Rachel te va a matar si lo lastimas", Santana warned him, turning to serve a patron.
I was here – I lived, I loved
I was here – I did, I've done
Everything that I wanted
And it was more than I thought it would be
I will leave my mark so everyone will know
I was here
Sitting backstage, a small walkie-talkie in her hand, Quinn felt tears bubbling in her eyes. The pain in Rachel's voice was palpable for everyone who knew what exactly she was going through. The blond bouncer, standing next to her, silently handed her a tissue, and she smiled gratefully at him through her tears, dabbing her eyes. "It's not fair, Sam", she whispered, checking the walkie-talkie again. "Rachel doesn't deserve this".
"Life isn't fair, Quinn", the blond, Sam, said sensibly. "Rachel hasn't made this decision without thinking deeply about the consequences, and I'm sure she weighed the pros and the cons".
"But… But it's not fair! He hasn't done anything to deserve-"
"Quinn!" Sam cut her, his voice as sharp as a whip. "He doesn't have to deserve anything. Rachel has made her mind. If you or any of us fight her in this, we're going to lose her."
More tears sprung to Quinn's eyes as she fell silent, acknowledging the truth in Sam's words.
I want to say I lived each day until I die
And all that I had something in, someone's life
The hearts that I had touched will be the proof that I lived
That I made a difference and the world will see
Jesse's felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle with something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Fear was gnawing on his heart as a sense of foreboding grew in his heart, eyes drinking every aspect of Rachel's appearance. She was slightly pale, shivering. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, sharper on her small face.
Oh, Rachel… What's going with you? Why are you singing this song? What are you feeling?
I was here – I lived, I loved
I was here – I did, I've done
Everything that I wanted
And it was more than I thought it would be
I will leave my mark so everyone will know…
… I was here.
The crowd clapped excitedly as Rachel wrapped her song up, a small smile on her face as she took her bows and thanked the patrons closer to the stage as she quickly made her way backstage. Jesse felt a firm nudge on his shoulder and looked back, coming face to face with this Puck guy's firm glare. "Go. She'll talk to you now".
Taking the last sip of his beer, Jesse put the bottle back on the counter and, taking a deep breath, marched back to Rachel's dressing room.
to be continued...
Translations
El momento es llegado: It's time.
Sí: Yeah.
Él es el padre de la niña: he's the girl's father
Yo lo sé: I know.
Rachel te va a matar se lo lastimas: Rachel will kill you if you hurt him.