Sorry for the long time it took to update! 2 years have passed since the last chapter, and Drizzle is graduating from her high school soon as well as she's turning eighteen.
My birthday was, coincidentally, two days before graduation. I guess you can say that this was an extremely lucky thing, lucky that I became legally an adult before I left McKinley, before I left people and things I had no idea mattered all that much.
Ever since I had figured out who Number 5 was, and created a special Number 6 spot, the Schuesters had me over for dinner once a week. I liked their house and their kids and it wasn't awkward. I didn't have a dad, and Mr. Schue liked having me. He still felt guilty about leaving me, he still blamed himself for my somewhat ratty home situation. No matter how many times I insisted I wouldn't change it, he would shake his head and tell me to just enjoy my dinner.
I started calling them Will and Emma outside of school during my Junior year, and soon it became difficult to call them anything but. As soon as I graduated, I remember Will wrapping me in a big fatherly hug and whispering, "I'm so proud of you, Driz," into my ear. It was simple, but years later it still means so much.
I stopped blaming Will a while ago.
Emma was sad to see me leave McKinley. While I was her student, I knew I was probably more. I was cleanly and sarcastic sometimes, I was a break. I knew she liked having me in her office just to chat- we didn't ever need to really discuss anything. But over my last few years at WMHS, I realized just how much she took the blame for what happened to me.
She wouldn't view herself as a home wrecker, and I didn't really either, although I sometimes felt bitter about her and Will together, a perfect family. Those feelings always passed by quickly, and were replaced by an appreciation of finally having someone whose judgment wasn't clouded by their own problems to look after me.
Emma would ask me how my mother was often, and the truth was that since her therapy began, she was getting better. The nightmares came less and less, and I was happy about that. I now could rely on a decent night's sleep, even in the heart of November.
My life, I remember, had seemed to have improved since my sophomore year. Emma had helped me realized that I didn't need to do it all on my own, I could break once in a while. In trying to please everyone, namely my mother, constantly, I realized I had missed out on just being myself, or just being in general. Now, I can say that every moment is precious. I don't have to constantly be doing anymore. I don't feel like fixing my broken past is my job anymore, I know I don't owe that to anyone but myself.
I knew as I was on the brink of eighteen that these relaxed seas I had become accustomed to, these new ways of hanging out with Will and Emma, or helping my mom, or knowing that I didn't need the Numbers to know myself, would soon be over. Ever since I was a little girl, my mom told me that on my eighteenth birthday, she would tell my who my birth mother was. I look back and remember the anxious, nervous, and excited twisting of my stomach as every day or hour or minute or second passed by me. I remember tapping my fingers, drumming them against my thigh constantly to distract myself. I tried at home not to seem too excited, as I didn't want to see my mother hurt.
It would probably be hard for her to show me all that I had missed.
"Stop tapping your leg," Emma sighed as I sat her office after Glee practice one day. "It's annoying." She wiped her desk down with a handy wipe and pulled her yard stick out from its resting place behind her file cabinet. I rolled my eyes but forced my fingers to halt their action against my jeans.
"Fine," I said as she began to measure the distance from her calendar to her lamp- it had to be six and a half inches, the coffee cup resting dead center. I adjusted the position of her flowery datebook and calendar, then twisted the lamp. Satisfied, she sat down in her chair and sanitized her hands. "You know, Drizzle," she began softly, sympathetically almost, "d-don't you think you might be getting too excited about this?"
"No..." I said, mulling this over. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was putting my birth mom on some huge pedestal that she didn't deserve. But I had no idea. However, in the years I had grown close to Emma, I had become acutely aware that Emma knew exactly who my biological mother was. "Do you? Y-you know her, after all," I said quietly, hoping this would strike a nerve and get Emma to back off.
Why couldn't she just let me get excited?
"O-oh, umm, D-Drizzle, y-you know that I-I... that I can't, umm..." her accent betrayed her and I managed to stop myself from chuckling.
"Em- Mrs. Schue, calm down," I told her, resting my palm on her arm the way she did to me sometimes when I got upset or nervous. She smiled at me maternally- she only wanted to protect me from disappointment.
"I just don't want you to be hurt, Drizzle," she sighed, taking a long and leisurely blink of her gigantic eyes. "But," she smiled, "since your birthday is tomorrow..." she grinned her ridiculously white grin (probably due to her huge metal dental kit resting in her top drawer- Will had told me the stories) at me and handed me an impeccably wrapped gift.
It was long and skinny, and the wrapping paper had rainbow stripes on it. The yellow bow on top made me giggle- it reminded me of Emma. Seemingly, every other thing the woman owned had a yellow bow on it. "From Will and me," she said as she watched me examine it gratefully.
"Thanks Mrs.-"
"Emma," she interrupted, nodding in my direction.
"Thanks, Em," I said, starting my sentence fresh. The way she had smiled at me made me believe she really did care about the crazy, needy teenager with a past so messy it rivaled a cow pen in a dairy farm. "You didn't have to," I told her, my smile evident.
"Of course I did, don't be silly! Now open it," she said, squirting Germ-X onto her palm and watching happily as I attempted to open the gift without ripping the paper. I couldn't hold in the gasp that had escaped my lips when I noticed the light blue Tiffany's jewelry box. Even now I think that it was ridiculous of them to buy me something so extravagant, but that just goes to show what good people they are.
I glanced up at her nervously, and a smile played on her lips as she clasped her hands in front of her chest, ever the lady. She bit on her lip lightly as I pulled the lid from the long, narrow box. "Oh, Emma!" I had told her, "it's beautiful..." she helped me slip the charm bracelet onto my wrist.
It had a delicate silver chain and four lovely charms on it. It still jingles on my wrist whenever I walk, and as I grew up I was careful to never let it lose its graceful shine. The first charm was the trademark Tiffany's oval with the stamp and everything, the second a small diamond-encrusted heart shaped charm. The third and fourth, though, are the most special of them all. The third charm was simple- tiny and a glittering silver shaped into a delicate bow. The fourth was a little musical note lined with rhinestones. "Just so you don't forget us when you go off to college," she smiled, resting her hand on my wrist, a rare privilege that only the cleanest students were granted.
"Em, this is too much," I smiled, knowing it had probably cost a small fortune.
"It was worth it," she declared, getting up from her chair to eliminate a smudge on her otherwise perfect windows. "You know you're worth it, Driz," she said, standing up and wrapping me in a delicate hug.
I remember her pulling away moments later and wiping almost furiously at her eyes. Emma Schuester was crying, crying over me. She met my eyes and giggled, the glassy sheen over her eyes making them glow red.
"Gosh," she said, and I giggled because her Appalachian accent made it sound more like gawrsh. "I'm such a mom..." We both laughed. Emma told me how in the few short years she'd known me, how she had grown to love me. However twisted our relationship was, she was proud to be sixth on the crazy list I'd conjured up as a little kid to put some label on those who had impacted the way my life had turned out. And she told me how fast it seemed like I'd grown up- from the little girl who had walked into her office teary-eyed two years ago to the woman and close friend who left that same office today. She gulped, "I'm really proud of you, miss Drizzle," and wrapped me in one last hug. "And you'd better stop by after graduation!" she called as I left.
I remembered blowing her a cheesy kiss like a movie star would do, popping my foot, and walking confidently down the hallway, feeling truly loved and appreciated and proud of who I was, because despite the fact that some crucial pieces of the jigsaw were still missing, I felt like I was starting to become myself- a person I never thought I truly find without the Numbers.
X
Dinner had been good, really good. I didn't even asked how my mom had pulled it off- she was officially The World's Worst Cook. I knew from my own dinner experiences at the Schuester's that when he left her, so had her yummy and nutritional supply of meals. She even had baked carrots and veggies (my favorite food in the world), which resulted in me thanking her profusely. For some reason, my mother hated cutting vegetables. She just hated it, sort of like how she hated when guys wore pocket squares or why she frowned whenever she saw some mannequin in a store window donning some dorky man sweater.
When you lived with Terri Williams, there was some things you just never understood.
Most of her little antics I can explain now, because I'm older and wiser and know the truth. But then again, some are just small inexplicable things that no one would ever understand except for her and maybe Aunt Kendra.
But enough of that, back to my birthday dinner. It had been full of small talk and how proud she was of me, about how she was so happy to have raised a woman as good as me. Even though my mom had been dealt a rough hand of cards, she had still managed to bring me up well through her own horrible times. I would always appreciate her for pulling herself out of the wreckage of her life enough to love me, because now looking back on it, her life had been a wreckage around the time I entered the world.
"Drizzle?" she asked quietly as I chewed a carrot. The candles on the table sent a dim glow over us, and I smiled as I heard her voice. It was happy but filled with something I couldn't place. "I... I need to show you something. It's-it's the other part of your birthday gift, but... it's not really a gift, you're sort of entitled to it, I guess," she got up from the table, and I could detect (but just barely) a twinge of sadness to her voice. "Wait here."
As soon as she turned around from her, her hand flew to her face, and in a swift wiping motion, it returned to her side. I would know only minutes later that my mother was preparing to hand me over completely.
She returned to the dinner table with a shoebox in her hand. "Lets go to the couch?" she said as if she was smaller than I was.
"Sure," I said, standing up next to her and draping my hand over her skinny shoulders. I really, really loved her. She was what made me me, even if it seemed like I actually had no relations to her in any way sometimes.
With age you realize that the ties of the heart are always stronger than those of the blood, of the genes, of the body.
"Thanks, Mom, I really app-"
"Shh," she told me as we sat, and she began to lift the lid off of the box. She shut it again just as quickly, though, and pulled it into her lap. She sucked in a cool breath, then sighed. She opened her mouth like she was going to talk, then closed it. She finally opened it again, "Drizzle, honey," she started. "I... I've always planned on giving this- all of this- to you the day you turned eighteen. I... I promised myself, I promised her. B-but it's a little harder than I thought. It-I feel like I'm giving you away, Driz..."
"You're not, Mom, I... you're my mom. No matter what genes say, or what any of it says, you're still my mom, always. Alright? B-but... but what's inside the box?" I had needed to assure my mother that no matter what I always belonged to her. No matter what doctors and people and documents claim- I'm a Williams, and nothing can change that. Nothing.
"D-do you still want to look?" she asked, settling the box between us on the sofa, fair ground for either of us. I nodded, "I'm ready, Mom," and smiled at her as she gently removed the lid.
"You're mother loved you very much, Sweetie," she told me, "but she was just a... she was younger than you are now. She wasn't ready to be your mom, no matter how much she wanted to. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, sweetheart, she loved you and wanted you to be hers. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, I couldn't have babies. Ever. I-I... I needed you, baby, and when I heard about her issue, I thought that we should meet. And we did." My mom inhaled sharply, her lips pursing as if she was trying to tell me something but didn't want to. She knew that I knew that she had been married to Mr. Schue, and that Mrs. Schue was "the other woman" in her eyes.
"Mom?" I asked, "I... If you don't want to tell me about what happened between you and... umm... Mr. Schue, just know that I'm not asking to know," I said meekly, and a small smile broke across her face. Her eyes that always had that glitter in them seemed to be returned to their old spark, which made me happy.
"Okay." This was said simply, matter-of-factly, and I knew she was taking me up on this offer to leave the truth undisclosed for now. "So... we agreed that she would give me you, the best gift someone could ever ask for. S-she just wanted help; vitamins, care, someone to talk to and rely on. At first, I didn't want much to do with her. But then, well... then it happened- he left. And I realized that I had already done so much wrong, Sweetheart, so, so... so much wrong. I knew that I had messed up, badly, that the table w-were going to turn very, very soon. She only took me up on my offer because of him, I think. She was his student... she thought he was the perfect guy to give her baby girl a good life."
"Then what happened?" I asked, curious. If my biological mother never wanted my mom to have me, how could I be here, now, eighteen and in my living room discovering bits and pieces of my past. How could I be discovering Number 1, then, if any of this was true?
"So I apologized. I... I went to her and told her what I felt like, how I knew that being so cold was me just trying to deny the situation that I could never have a baby of my own. And... and she did something so big, so beyond a teenager I'll never know how she did. She said that she knew she couldn't do it now, it was probably impossible, but that she knew that she loved her child. She said that even though it was a mistake, per-say, she would never want to have to deal with being unable to have a child... l-like me. She said that I would appreciate her because she would never actually be fully mine, not genetically, anyway. And she said that I already knew how much she was worth, how much that little baby meant and how much she was to lose. You're a lot to lose, Drizzle," she whispered to me, and the strangest sense of the feeling that years ago, those same words had helped to bring me to my mother. I smiled at her and brushed a tear from her cheek, then mine. She kept going:
"She said I knew that, and I was what was best for her, for you- that little tiny baby girl inside of her. Her only wish was for your name to be, well, 'Drizzle.' She told me I would never understand, but that it had a meaning, that someday it would help bring her close to the the person you, that tiny baby, had meant so much to."
A twenty-year-old Finn Hudson walked into Breadsticks, Lima's best restaurant for just a quick meal. He wasn't growing anymore, but the college sophomore was still hungry all the time. He was home from college for Christmas break and had wanted to get out of the house for just a little while. His mom and Burt were ogling over each other and ever since Kurt left for New York a few days ago to get back to his fashion career, he could admit that home wasn't as fun anymore.
Usually, they'd be at the local bar having a few brotherly drinks or sitting on the couch at home watching HBO and sharing college stories. Surprisingly, over the four years since sophomore year at McKinley, both boys had grown up a lot.
Kurt was happy dating Stephen Cohen, a trainer at his local gym in New York who was only about a year or so older than Kurt. Finn was happy with... Well, Finn was single. He could assume Quinn and Puck weren't together anymore- ever since Puck had blown off the baby's delivery to go "clean the pool" of Ezra Fisher's mom, Quinn had seemed more than bitter towards Puck and his bad boy style.
Finn hadn't seen or spoken to Quinn in two entire years, hadn't really spoken to her in four if you counted Junior and Senior year of high school. Ever since he found out about her lie, he could never really forgive her or himself. He knew she deserved it- it was just a mistake, she was sorry- but he felt too ashamed to talk to her now. He felt like that ship had already sailed- that ship was probably all the way to Figi by now.
On his way out of the bar, Finn was greeted by a familiar face. Terri Williams, the old school nurse and Mr. Schue's ex-wife was sitting at a booth near the bar with a little toddler who looked about three or four. He grinned- Finn had always loved babies. "Finn Hudson?" the woman said, looking up from cutting chicken tenders for her kid. "I haven't seen you in years!" her voice was happy, but held clear resentment.
She couldn't portray the perfect wife anymore, so instead she had moved on to play the perfect mother card.
"Nice to see you Mrs... uh..."
"Williams," she finished for him, smiling. "And this is Drizzle," she said as she beamed down at the little girl in the highchair next to her. Finn could see the baby's face now, clear as day. It was tan like Puck's, but all of Quinn's features including her eyes and blonde ringlets were as clear as day. "I... I adopted her a few years ago from Quinn Fabray," Terri explained, "she's the light of my life."
"Y-you... she... you named her Drizzle?" was all Finn could choke out.
"It was her mother's idea. She said it was important."
Finn nodded, "Thank you so, so much," he breathed, smiling down at Drizzle and rushing out the door. There was someone he had to find.
As soon as Finn finished college, he would marry Quinn Fabray, the girl of his dreams who would finally be forgiven that chilly December night on the front steps of her apartment.
X
I looked at my mother as she continued speaking, finally passing me a crumpled photo and handwritten letter. "I'll let you look at these alone," she said as she left to go clear the dinner dishes. Turning eighteen was such a crossroads, and now I had found my mother. She nodded towards the letter, "I've never read it, but I know she did... a thousand times over, she told me." Terri left the room with a smile, leaving the other girl behind to take in the letter and its contents.
Drizzle,
I don't know how to talk to you, baby girl, I don't know what to say. I'm in the end of my third trimester, and your due date is tomorrow. I guess this is going to be goodbye for us, but I don't want it to be. I never want it to be. You're so beautiful in the sonogram pictures. That's all I have of you, and will always be because I know that if I see you after you're born I wont be able to let you go. Puck tells me I need to move on, get on with my life after you're born. But the thing is, I can't. I've never felt empty before, but with you inside my belly I feel whole and full, like the whole package. With you gone from my side, I know I'll never be complete again. But the whole issue is that you can't be complete with me, and of course I would trade my comfort for yours in a second. I would do anything for you, baby girl. Being a mom is something I wish I could do right now, but there's so much more than just taking care of you and loving you. Sometimes- all the time- I pray that loving you would be enough. If it was we'd both be rich, I think.
Terri is going to be good to you. She's loved you ever since she knew I was pregnant, even if she didn't always show it. I'm sure she'll tell you the whole happening between her and her husband eventually since I don't plan on telling you now. His name was Will and he was a really, really good guy even though some people might still be calling him a slut. I'm sure you'll meet him someday- he loves you too.
There are so many people you love you, Driz. Finn does, I know it, even though you were supposed to be his and aren't. And Puck does too, he has to, somewhere under all of that bad boy act there's a nice guy. So does Ms. P even though she probably doesn't know it yet. She's cool- she's one of the people who helped me out when I didn't have anywhere to go. I stayed over at her condo a few nights when I left the Hudson's house, when I knew I wasn't welcome there even though Mrs. H wouldn't dare kick me out. And of course Terri loves you. Mr. Schue loves you so much, he loves you so much it almost hurts us all. But he thinks he's totally lost you. Don't worry- he'll find you again, just like I will.
I guess maybe even though I certainly can't give you enough of actual wealth right now, Sweetie, you're taking a money bath in love. Call yourself Bill Gates, baby girl, because you're the richest in what matters most on this crazy planet.
No matter what they tell you, Drizzle, honey, I love you so, so much. You're my best girl, and I'm going to find you one day. You'll see- they'll all see. One day, sweet pea, we're going to be together. I swear I'll wait around in Lima until you get old enough to actually know me. Even though I don't really know you, nor do you know me, I can't imagine leaving you behind in this godforsaken town where everyone has enough baggage to make the luggage claim guys at the airport go insane.
You'll be eighteen by the time you read this, two whole years older than I am. It's scary to think about the fact that I'll be thirty four when I first meet you, but I know we're going to be great friends. You'll see- they'll all see. Everybody who says I can't, you can't, we can't- baby girl you've got to remember that your mommy promises they're all wrong.
Love always,
Mommy
Quinn Fabray
The letter is always with me now, in my purse or in the back pocket of my jeans. When I first read it, it was covered in creases and tear stains. Now there are more of course, from me reading it and crying every time. She was so, so right in everything that she told me. I looked at that letter on my first night being eighteen and just cried because finally I knew. I let my tears fall where hers had- so sad, but loving the idea that we shared something when our teardrops blended together and landed in the same spot.
I took the picture next and choked out a sob so surprise. A much younger, gentler looking Mrs. Hudson, clad in a Cheerios uniform, stared lovingly back at me. It was dated 2009, very early on in her pregnancy with me.
I realized now that I loved her. That all of her attempts to get me to join the cheer squad or the celibacy club now made sense. Her friendship with Mrs. Schue was much clearer now, too- my favorite red head had been a shoulder to lean on for me and my mother. I liked it that we had more in common that where our tears landed on a page and a good few chromosomes.
I hugged the articles closer to me. I felt more whole than ever, more Drizzle than ever. Everything was for a reason, I was beginning to think. My mom came up behind me and draped her arms around me, "I love you, Driz," she whispered, finger-combing my long curls. "And she does too."
I had finally, finally found Number 1.
X
My name was called and went up to the podium to accept my diploma. I sighed happily and noticed my mother, the Schuesters, and Mrs. Hudson swiping proud tears from their eyes. My eyes locked with the ones that closely resembled my own, and Mrs. Hudson smiled up at me maternally. She knew that my birthday had been only days ago, but I hadn't said anything to her yet.
At the end of the ceremony, the students shake hands with all of the teachers and the teachers wish them all well. I held the picture of a much younger Quinn Fabray in my hand, folded neatly. I had added my name beside hers on the back, knowing that she was probably a month or so into pregnancy at the time of the photo.
I hugged Mr. Schue who whispered, "I'm so proud of you, hon," into my ear and ruffled my blonde ringlets. I flashed him the charm bracelet, and rubbed my fingers over the musical note as I turned to walk away. "Don't forget me when you're rich and famous?" he asked me, half kidding, half serious.
"Never," I promised, kissing his cheek and thanking him for everything. Really everything, not just what he had taught me in Spanish and Glee.
Finally, I reached her. My biological mother. She blinked away tears as she reached to shake me hand. I shook my head, "no" at her and wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you," I whispered. "You're the bravest person I've met," I told her. "You... I... without you, I wouldn't have had any of this." I gestured to the crowd and my gown and cap, to my mother in the audience and the Schues over by Figgins. "You mean a lot to me, Mom, and I'm proud to be your daughter."
The last phrase came out in such a low whisper, but the tears fell freely down her face and I knew she had heard. I knew that Number 1 now had a name and face and personality, and that she had just been reassured that she had made the right choice as a teen.
I slipped the photo into her palm and closed it for her, her eyes widening. "Finally," she whispered to me, hugging me quickly and silently vowing to take more later.
X
The sixteen year old girl sat on guidance counselor's couch in her pajamas. She cried a little as she wrote the last phrases of the note to her daughter that was going to be gone very, very soon. She could only pray it wasn't forever as she ran her fingers over her enlarged belly. "We'll be together someday... you'll see- they'll all see..."
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XOXO