Hello my lovelies, I'm back with a new chapter. This chapter is a personal favorite of mine, so far. Family is important to me and this chapter explains Santana's love for her family. I like exposing her like this, getting in touch with her vulnerable side. Santana is always best when she's exploring raw emotions. So… enough babbling. Happy reading! Oh, and I'd like to hear your feedback on how the story's to your liking so far, so please tell me what you think of the story up to this point! Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Birthday Wish

NOW

It is Abuelita Alma's 67th birthday.

Out of habit, Santana has bought her strawberry cheesecake and lemon meringue pie from the Lima Bean. She had propped up a few candles on the cheesecake, and she has a lighter ready in her jeans pocket. Now all she needs is her abuelita.

She straightens herself in front of the door before ringing the bell.

At her surprise, the green-painted door swings open.

"Yes, yes, you're half an hour late –" Abuelita Alma stops as soon as she sees Santana. Clearly, her granddaughter was not the person she was expecting.

Santana wastes no time; she offers the cake to her abuelita. "Happy birthday, abuela," she says with a smile. "I got your favorite cheesecake and lemon meringue pie."

Abuelita Alma, as usual, purses her lips in discontent. "Thank you," she says curtly, "but I do not need cake from you."

"It's okay abuela, I got it just for you," Santana says, hope rising inside of her. This is the first interaction she's had with her abuelita for the last three days, and she hasn't slammed the door in front of her face in the first five seconds of seeing her. This is a significant improvement. "I bring a lighter, we can light the candles and –"

"I said," Abuelita Alma interrupts coldly, "I do not need cake from you." Her nostrils flare in anger. "Take them back."

Santana's heart crumples. "But, abuela –"

"I said take them back," Abuelita Alma orders stiffly. The bitterness in her voice tears Santana's heart away. "Take it back, and don't even bother coming back into my house."

A tear rolls down Santana's cheek. "When can you ever forgive me, abuelita?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. "We used to celebrate your birthday every year. We would light the candles and you would make wishes before you blow them. I would be the first person you give your cake to. Have you forgotten all that?"

"I have not forgotten," Abuelita Alma assures her. "But a lot has changed since my last birthday, hasn't it?"

"Abuela, all I want is to celebrate your birthday with you, like we used to," Santana pleads.

"And all I want is to be left alone." Abuelita Alma answers icily.

Santana takes a deep breath to stop more tears from falling off her eyes. "If you don't want to celebrate it with me, fine," she says. "But at least take the cake. For nineteen years I have never seen you let your birthday go by without your favorite cake. This year should be no different." She thrusts the cake forward. "This is for you, abuela. From me."

Abuelita Alma stands in furious silence for what seems to Santana like hours. She stands there, one hand on the door handle, watching Santana's tear-stained face wordlessly. Santana doesn't dare to look up to see her abuelita's expression; she is too scared to. She doesn't want to see that coldness in her eyes, and all the accusations, judgments, and disappointments she holds against her. Santana's knees begin to wobble as she continues to wait for her abuelita's response. If there is anyone who could make Santana Lopez shake in terror, it is Abuelita Alma.

"I said I do not need your cake."

Abuelita Alma slams the door in her face.

It takes Santana only five seconds to burst into hysterical tears. She falls to the floor, hands clenched around Abuelita Alma's doorway, tears splashing down onto the hard, cold floor. Her entire body trembles as she chokes on her tears. Her heart burns with so much pain she wonders if she could die out of a broken heart. She wills herself to move, to return to her car and drive back home to the comfort of her bed, but she can't. Her body refuses to obey her and she stays where she is, a messy heap on the floor, a broken creature with nothing but sorrow inside of her, begging for mercy, demanding salvation into the vast, empty air.

"Abuela, abuela, please," Santana begins to beg. She doesn't care about her dignity, or being subtle, or being patient. All she wants, all she needs, is for her abuelita to come out, hug her, and tell her that she loves her again. She misses her. She misses her grandmother so much it hurts. She needs her. She needs her love; she feels lost and naked without it.

"Abuelita, abuelita, caer bien! Please, te amo, abuelita! I love you! Abuelita, please! Please! Please! I love you!"

The door remains closed.

The cake lies abandoned beside her.

THEN

It was Abuelita Alma's 57th birthday.

Nine-year-old Santana burst through the front door, the box of cake wobbling on her arms. Abuelita Alma laughed and rushed to give her granddaughter a hand.

"Happy birthday, abuelita!" Santana gave her a gap-toothed grin. "You're fifty eight today!"

"Yes, I am, mi amor," Abuelita Alma said, taking the cake from the little girl's unsteady hands. "Is this for me?"

Santana nodded. "Mama and me bought it from the Lima Bean," she explained. Her father and mother walked into the house then, giving Abuelita Alma hugs and birthday wishes. "Mama said you liked strawberry cheesecake and lemon meringue pie."

"I sure do, little one," Abuelita Alma answered. "Now, let's go to the kitchen and get the candles going, shall we?" She motioned to her son and daughter-in-law, then made her way to the kitchen with Santana hanging onto her hand.

The four of them sat on the kitchen table, the delicious-looking strawberry cheesecake laid out in front of them. Santana's mother lit the candles and Santana's eyes grew wide with wonder as she watched the dancing flames before her.

"Now everybody sing happy birthday for abuela," Mrs. Lopez ordered.

The tiny group huddled closer to one another as they sang happy birthday for their beloved Abuelita Alma, Santana's voice echoing the loudest in the modest brown-tiled kitchen.

The song ended, and Abuelita Alma leaned forward to blow her candles. Santana, though, immediately stopped her.

"No, not yet, abuela," she said, shaking her head adamantly. "Before you blow the candles, you must make a wish."

Abuelita Alma raised her eyebrows. "Make a wish, eh?" she repeated.

The nine-year-old girl nodded again enthusiastically. "You must close your eyes, then say your wish in your heart. Don't tell anyone your wish yet, okay? Don't tell anyone yet!"

"Okay, okay, my little boss," Abuelita Alma laughed as she touched Santana's cheek with hers. "So I should close my eyes? Then… say the wish in my heart? Like this? Should I put my hands together like I'm praying?" Abuelita Alma closed her eyes as her granddaughter instructed. "All right, little one. I'm wishing, I'm wishing."

There is a momentary silence as Abuelita Alma wished in front of her blazing birthday candles. Santana held her breath as she waited impatiently for her abuelita to reopen her eyes. A thousand questions raced through her eternally active mind: what was her abuela wishing for? Would she wish for a new toy, like Santana usually did when her birthday came? Would abuela like her cake? Who would she give the first piece to? Would their family do this again next year, and the next, and the next, like they had always done every year? Would abuela still like birthday parties and cheesecake when she was seventy? Eighty? Ninety-six? A hundred years old? Would she even remember, once she got older?

"There," Abuelita Alma's eyes fluttered open once more. She took Santana's hand and said, "Now let's blow the candles, shall we?"

They blew the candles together and, to her delight, Santana got the first piece of cake. They all ate strawberry cheesecake in the kitchen, making small talks, sharing recent events, and laughing at jokes Santana claimed to have learned from her classmates. The kitchen buzzed with warmth, love, and humble excitement. This is one of Santana's best memories from her childhood: celebrating Abuelita Alma's birthday in her kitchen, just the four of them, doing nothing but talk, eat cheesecake, and enjoy one another's company. Cherishing the moment, as if they all knew it wouldn't last long. The simplest idea of happiness for Santana has always been exactly this: family gatherings, filled with love and affection, with people she cared for wholeheartedly. Her noble-hearted parents, whom she loves dearly; and her knight in shining armor, her lighthouse, her fortress, her abuelita. As long as she had them around, she knew that the world would be all right, come what may. They were her sense of security, her idea of love, her example of perfection and ideality. Abuelita Alma, especially, was her personal guardian angel. Those are the words that pop into Santana's mind whenever she remembers her abuelita: her guardian angel. No matter what she's done or said, Abuelita Alma would always be her angel.

Santana can't help but smile whenever this piece of memory rewinds itself in her brain. She wishes she could jump back into that time, ten years ago, in her abuelita's kitchen, at her 58th birthday.

She helped abuelita with the dishes afterwards. They scraped the cake crumbs into the dustbin and placed the dishes into the dishwasher. As Santana wiped her father's plate free of strawberry cream, she turned to her abuelita's tiny figure, cocked her head to the side, and asked,

"Abuelita, what did you wish for?"

Abuelita Alma looked up from the plate she was rinsing. "I thought I shouldn't tell anyone about my wish?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Santana grinned. "I change my mind. You can tell me." she exclaimed.

Abuelita Alma shook her head, suppressing a smile. "Well, if you must know…" She put her plate down and stared at her granddaughter straight in the eye. "My one and only wish is for our family to be healthy and happy."

Santana's eyes grew wide, like they usually did when she was happy, afraid, or surprised. "Just that?"

"Just that."

"No new clothes? No new books for abuela?"

"No, mi amor, no new clothes or books for abuela," Abuelita Alma answered. She took the young girl's hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Abuela doesn't need new clothes or books. All abuela needs is her family." She placed a hand on Santana's chubby cheeks. "As long as I have your Papa, your Mama, your Uncle and Auntie, and you," – she poked Santana in the belly, who giggled at her touch – "abuela is the happiest person in the world." She pinched the girl's cheeks. "Especially you, mi amor. Abuela loves you very much, and abuela never wants to lose you. As long as you're happy and healthy, then I am also happy."

Santana wrapped her arms around Abuelita Alma's frail-looking neck. "I love you very much too, abuela," she said, eyes ablaze with emotions. "I never want to lose you too. As long as abuela's happy and healthy, Santana also happy."

Abuelita Alma's eyes were wet with tears as she swallowed Santana into a tight hug.