Muse

"Melpomene"

MELPOMENE was one of the nine Mousai (Muses), the goddesses of music, song and dance. In Classical times, when the Mousai were assigned specific artistic and literary spheres, Melpomene was named Muse of tragedy. In this guise she was portrayed holding a tragic mask or sword, and sometimes wearing a wreath of ivy and cothurnus boots. Her name was derived from the Greek verb melpô or melpomai meaning "to celebrate with dance and song."

The celebration dinner was set for 8pm at Brittany's favorite fancy Italian restaurant. (Though Santana hoped that Brittany wouldn't try to reenact the Lady and the Tramp scene at a fine dining establishment.)

She had no idea what they would be celebrating. Brittany had called earlier in the afternoon out of breath and squealing, "We're celebrating! Pick me up tonight! We have reservations!" Though Santana couldn't completely calm her down, she got enough information out of her to know when and where to pick her up and what restaurant they would be going to so that she knew how to dress.

She took one last glance over her outfit before setting out for the evening. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, refined bun. Her eyes took on a smoky, sultry look with gray and black tones. She'd pulled out her favorite little black dress and red pumps.

Brittany had picked out those red pumps one day about two years ago as Santana sat in bed browsing through shoes online. Brittany had leaned over, touched the screen, and whispered in her ear, "Those. Sexy. Sophisticated. Sexy. Also, sexy." A few days later, when Santana got home from the recording studio, the shoes had already been unpacked and were sitting on the bed with a note: Put these on now. She could hear her bathroom door creak open and decided to play along with Brittany's game. She sat on the bed and took off her shirt and pants very slowly, trailing her fingers across her skin and pulling her hair out into a messy wave. She could almost hear Brittany's breath quicken as she spied on from the bathroom. When she finally stood with the pumps on and just her bra and lace underwear, Brittany burst out of the bathroom and immediately proceeded to remove the shoes she'd just been told to put on. As she looked down at her shoes, Santana hoped that they would make tonight as lucky as that night years ago.

The restaurant buzzed with a warm yellow light. Mahogany floors and cream and brown interiors flooded the room. Brittany's emerald dress sparkled against the neutral tones of the restaurant. Santana held up her glass of champagne.

"So what are we toasting to?"

"Well, remember I told you that I've been working with Marco?"

Santana nodded.

"He liked the video I did..."

"That's amazing, Britt. Cheers!" Santana's face forced a smile as she raised her glass and moved it toward Brittany's.

"That's not it, San. I got signed to be his full-time choreographer! He's got two more singles due out and a world tour in a few months."

The smile quickly fell from Santana's face. Her mouth stood agape. She gulped, then furrowed her eyebrows into a grimace. "What? We didn't talk about this."

"Just before we went out to dinner last time, I told you that if he liked my work, he would sign me. I told you, Santana." Brittany's face began to flush in frustration. Santana's brain churned as she attempted to recall the moments before their last dinner together. Santana remembered the conversation. They were on Brittany's couch and she had been caught up with the fact that Brittany had told Marco that she'd been struggling with the label. She'd been so frustrated that Brittany was sharing her personal business that must have missed this now-important piece of news.

"You're right. Sorry. Here's to your new job with Marco, Britt. Congratulations." Santana gave a sad smile as she clinked glasses with Brittany.

The food came out. After a few oohs and ahhs for the entrees the conversation switched to Santana.

"What did your manager think of your two new songs?" Brittany asked between bites.

"He liked them a lot. He took those two to the label, though, and the label's reaction was a bit different."

"What? Why didn't you tell me that the label heard those songs? What did they think?" Brittany was surprised. Santana had been keeping her up to date about label-related news with texts and phone calls a few times a day.

"Because of the label's reaction, Britt." Santana put down her fork and took a sip of water before continuing. "They said that they were really surprised by the change in tone of my songs. I think they wanted some more dance songs, or pop numbers, but I'm just not feeling that right now. I feel like I'm not going to be able to give them what they want."

"You have plenty of songs that aren't pop." Anger infused into Brittany's voice as she brandished her fork. "That's not fair. Do you think they're just being jerks because of what happened?"

Santana wore a sad expression. "I don't know. It doesn't matter one way or another why they like or dislike me. Even if my songs were amazing, they could still reject me for some stupid reasons."

Brittany put her fork down and reached her hand across the table to stroke Santana's arm. "Your songs areamazing and if they let you go then you'll have a million other labels lined up to take you in. You're a freaking Grammy winner, Santana."

Santana smiled shyly. "Thanks Britt." Her fingers curled up and pressed into Brittany's palm, rubbing softly.

They sat in silence as they finished dinner, Santana making quick work of her fish, while Brittany slurping the last of her pasta.

"What do you say we skip dessert and go back to my house for a nightcap, Britts?" Santana smirked as her cheeks heated up. The greens of Brittany's dress caught the color of her eyes perfectly in the light and captured Santana. She felt her stomach flutter.

"I think I can manage a nightcap." She winked and leaned across the table, drawing Santana in closer. "Maybe even a morning cap," she whispered into Santana's ear.

Santana looked up, into her eyes, and pulled back quickly. "Ok I'll get the check," she said hurriedly.

"Thanks for dinner, Santana. I really just can't believe how things are coming together. We're doing really well with this dating thing. I have this new amazing job. Marco is just the most generous guy ever to work for."

"Yeah, it's pretty great." Santana smiled crookedly, her mind not able to agree with things coming together quite so perfectly in her own life. A few moments of silence passed as Santana's brain churned. Brittany studied her, hoping to read her mind somehow.

"Britt?" Something was on Santana's mind. Brittany could tell by the way she chewed at her cheek and the way she hadn't fully smiled since Brittany made her announcement earlier in the evening.

"Yeah?"

"Does this mean that you're not going to work with me any more?" She continued to bite at the inside of her cheek, her eyes darting from Brittany's eyes to her mouth, down to the table, and back up.

"Well, you said that you're not really writing any dance songs."

"I might still."

"Maybe it's time," she started slowly. It was Brittany's turn to look worried. Santana's face had shifted from worry to anger in an instant with the utterance of those first three words. "...for us to separate our careers and our personal lives."

"Were we going to talk about this, or were you just going to make this decision yourself?" Santana was venomous. Rarely did her famed ire direct at Brittany.

"It's just..." Brittany hadn't expected to have this conversation. She felt like she was figuring out her future and sharing it with Santana in the same instant. Usually, she thought for hours (sometimes days) on end before making such a life changing decision. And yet she was still conveying what she knew she'd wanted all along, whether she'd acknowledged it or not. "This is what's best for me. And for us, I think."

"I don't think that you get to decide what's best for us." Santana's voice was a harsh whisper. Her jaw jutted out and just as she finished, she clenched her teeth down in frustration.

A gentleman in a suit delivered the check, cutting off the rest of the heated conversation just in time.

"Ladies." He nodded at Brittany, then Santana. "Ms. Lopez, we wanted to thank you for your patronage by providing this meal free of charge. Unfortunately, though, I have some bad news, as well. Somehow, the media has gotten wind of your arrival. There is a small group of photographers outside."

"What the hell!" Santana exhaled as she slowly closed her eyes. The night had started with the possibility of fireworks and had crashed down before her eyes.

"I'd suggest allowing the valet to bring your car around to our back entrance, where you maybe be able to get out without notice."

"Fine. How soon can the car be here?"

"Two minutes."

Santana nodded as she searched through her purse to check her phone.

"Maybe we should skip the nightcap." Brittany's voice was small and quiet.

Santana looked past her, at the valet rushing out the door as she muttered, "I was going to suggest the same thing."

They'd made it safely into the car without notice. Santana's hands relaxed around the wheel as she pushed the car into drive. Brittany sunk into Santana's leather seats and stared out at the city lights. What had started as a day of celebration and excitement had ended in a head full of questions as she reconsidered her decision to sign full-time with Marco and she wondered if Santana had been right about her decision-making.

It seemed like they'd made it safely out sight of the restaurant without being spotted by the paparazzi. Santana checked the mirrors religiously just the same, searching for the possibility of camera flashes or cars on her bumper. One hand gripped the steering wheel tightly while the other nervously ran through the bun she'd let down after dinner. Brittany appeared frozen in place in the passenger's seat, head swiveled so that Santana could only see the back of her head as she stared out the window. Santana cursed herself for unleashing her anger on Brittany, but she still couldn't let go of the resentment she felt toward Brittany making decisions about what would be best for them as a couple.

When they parked in her apartment complex parking lot, Brittany opened the door and quietly got out. She paused as she stood outside the door, running her own hand through her hair. "Goodnight," she whispered, barely audible.

Santana, with time to cool off, quietly responded, "Night. Congratulations." The car door closed. She watched as Brittany sadly walked back through her apartment door. She felt tears fill her eyes as she thought about the course of the night. It was not supposed to go this way. Their "new" relationship was not supposed to go this way. This time, Santana didn't feel the weight of regret and blame hanging so heavily over herself. She cried harder. At least when she was at fault, she thought, she was also in charge of fixing it.

The tears had run dry by the time she'd reached home. She threw open the living room glass doors to listen to the ocean waves crash against the shore below. It was her favorite calming sound. In her bedroom, she threw her dress and shoes across the room and slid into a pair of sweats and a tour t-shirt.

Happy love songs be damned. Her life was a series of tragedies and her best music was often some of her saddest. She sat on the balcony, notepad in hand. She wanted to write a song that conveyed sadness with a tinge of hope. She still felt the tiniest bit of hope for the relationship. It was an unsure hope, but a hope just the same - a hope rooted somewhere deep within the fear of change.

At six o'clock in the morning, Santana had her next single. This would be a hit. She couldn't undo it now. She couldn't take it back because it wasn't a happy song. The label, she knew, would like this one.

For a half hour after, she wrestled with whether to call Brittany. Lately, she'd been sharing her new songs with Brittany within just hours of finalizing them. But those songs were "Brittany songs" - happy songs. And, she hadn't had a fight as vicious as the previous night's fight. Finally, at 6:30, her mind grew tired and she dialed Brittany's number.

"What's wrong?" Brittany voice cracked like she'd just woken up, but she sounded concerned. Santana glanced at the clock and realized just how early it was.

"I didn't mean to wake you. Sorry, I'll call later." Her voice was soft, regretful.

"No, no. What's up?"

"I wanted to make up for last night. I ruined your celebration. Can I have a redo?" She could only hear Brittany's slow breathing over the phone. Somewhere in the night, she'd realized that although Brittany made a decision that she didn't like, she was responsible for choosing to react in an angry way. For that, she could apologize and possibly fix things. "Please, Britt. I want to make you your favorite."

"Gummy pancakes?" Santana could hear the excitement spilling out over the phone.

"Yep. And, I got chocolate chips, powdered sugar, and pancake syrup."

"Ok, I'm leaving now."

Although the promise of a nightcap had been ruined last night, strangely the "morning-cap" was still on the table. Santana busied herself with cleaning up from her all-night work session and pulling out Brittany's favorite sugary ingredients. (She was, after all, the girl who thought Dr. Pepper was a dentist-approved product.)

For the first hour, it felt almost exactly like a Sunday morning in high school. Messy, slightly greasy hair spilled onto ratty t-shirts. Sweatpants collected dust as the legs dragged across the floor. The house flooded with fits of giggles as powdered sugar erupted into a cloud above their heads. Santana would flip a pancake and Brittany would swoop in and tickle her sides until she had to throw out the just-burned pancake and start fresh.

After the sugar high, they crashed onto the couch, Brittany pulling Santana into her arms and gently kissing her forehead.

"This was a perfect morning-cap, San," she whispered against her forehead.

"Thanks, Britt. Thanks for coming. I'm sorry I messed up last night. I'm really happy for you. You deserve everything and I'm glad that your dreams are coming true." Santana's breath echoed off of Brittany's neck as she spoke.

"Remember that my dream came true already - when I got you." Brittany poked her nose on the last word.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah."

For a while, Brittany thought that Santana had fallen asleep. Her breath had evened out and her body was almost frozen in place. A quiet whisper against her neck let her know otherwise.

"I wrote another song last night."

Brittany almost threw her off the couch. "What? Oh my gosh, Santana, why didn't you tell me when I got here? Play it." She pushed at Santana to get up, until they were both in a seated position.

Santana turned back toward Brittany, but looked down at the space of the couch between them. "You're not going to like it."

"Why would you say that?" She pulled Santana's fingers between her own.

"I was really sad last night, Britt. It's not the type of song you wanted me to write."

"Oh, babe. You have been singing since we were eight years old - telling me how to dance in the background while you belted out your notes. You have a degree in music from one of the best music schools in the country. You have a record deal with one of the top three labels in the industry. And you have a Grammy. A Grammy, Santana. Yeah, I prefer happy songs because I'm a happy person. But, you've written song after amazing song without any input from me. I'm not mad."
She pulled Santana's hand up to her lips and kissed each knuckle. "Will you play it for me please?"

The biggest reason that Santana knew that this would be a big hit was because she didn't need her notepad to play this one. It was in her already. She sat down behind the piano.

This year's love had better last
Heaven knows it's high time
And I've been waiting on my own too long
But when you hold me like you do
It feels so right
I start to forget
How my heart gets torn
When that hurt gets thrown
Feeling like you can't go on

Turning circles when time again
It cuts like a knife oh yeah
If you love me got to know for sure
Cause it take something more this time
Than sweet sweet lies
Before I open up my arms and fall
Losing all control
Every dream inside my soul
And when you kiss me
On that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain't this life so sweet

This year's love had better last
This year's love had better last

So who's to worry
If our hearts get torn
When that hurt gets thrown
Don't you know this life goes on
And won't you kiss me
On that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singing ain't this life so sweet

This year's love had better last
This year's love had better last
This year's love had better last
This year's love had better last

She closed her eyes and stayed at the piano, letting it sink in. "I'm worried about us, Britt." It was barely a whisper. She feared that she'd have to repeat herself. She heard a choked sob from behind her and turned. Brittany's head was in her lap, pressed between her knees. Her body shook uncontrollably.

Santana sat down next to her on the couch and wrapped her arm around her. Brittany sat up and pressed her face into Santana's side. "Me, too, Santana. What's going on with us?"

"I'm scared, Britt. Things feel so different. I feel like I'm losing control. I feel like I'm losing you."

"Why do you think that, Santana?" She pulled back, tears still brimming from her eyes as she looked at Santana.

"You're going to be working with him and...I don't know...it hurts. You're mine. It hurts to hear about you and him."

"Is that what...is that what last night's fight was really about? I've never been the one who hurts people, Santana." The tears had frozen on her face.

"Britt, I didn't mean it like that. Shit. I don't know. Just forget it." Santana's eyes closed as she tried to will away her last few statements.

"It's a job, Santana. Who's sitting in front of you, right now? Who's here, this early in the morning, even after we had a terrible fight last night? Who's been willing to hold on through everything, Santana?" She let her questions sink in for a moment.

"Things are changing with us, Britt. It's scary. I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of losing you. We don't talk some days. I only see you like once or twice a week. We haven't had sex in what feels like years. I'm practically a virgin again. When I see you, I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to kiss you..."

Brittany cut Santana off with her lips. The kiss was forceful and passionate. It fogged Santana's mind and froze her hands by her side.

With closed eyes, Brittany rested her forehead against Santana's as they caught their breath. "Were things perfect between us before, Santana?"

"No."

"Then change needs to happen. We've talked about this before and I feel it. I feel change happening in a good way. I need you to let go of that worry. I need you to feel it, too." She felt Santana's tears hit the hand in her lap. She reached her palm up to cup Santana's cheek and swipe the tears away with her thumb.

"Look at me." Dark, full eyelashes fluttered open, tickling Brittany's cheek. "This year's love, Santana, is going to last. Open up. Let go. Let me love you."

Santana could only nod.

Song by David Gray.