Chapter 4: Conversations with the Past and Present

Carmen Tibideaux sat at the imposing mahogany desk in her office, surrounded by files and papers regarding the students that would be performing in the Freshman Showcase. It was nearly the end of the day, and she was grateful for it. Her neck was coiled with tension, and her feet felt sore in her shoes, which were more classy than comfortable. It had been one hell of a day, to say the least. She'd been putting out fires left and right, even more so than usual, but she'd had enough of it - at least for the time being.

Finishing off a sip of her still steaming hot cup of green tea, she pressed the button on her intercom, trusting that Cassandra July was also sitting at her desk now, going through papers, and not in her studio dancing. "Ms. July, I need to see you in my office, please," she requested formally, on the off-chance that anyone else was around. Face to face, she and Cassie were generally more casual with each other. They were long-time friends, and there was no need for formalities between the two of them behind closed doors. Although most, if not all, of the faculty knew about their friendship, it was up to Carmen, in her position as Dean, to keep up appearances. Particularly in front of the students, who could appear out of nowhere at any time.

It wasn't long before she received her answer, the intercom light blinking red. "Yes, Ms. Tibideaux. I'll be there shortly."

"Thank you."

To everyone else, Carmen Tibideaux was a woman of few words, one who spoke professionally, confidently, and with a more than slight air of superiority. Although she knew that Cassandra looked up to her as a mentor, Carmen was never the least bit condescending towards her. Cassandra got enough of that from everyone else, Carmen knew, and the poor woman didn't need it from her, too.

Within about ten minutes, there was a knock on Carmen's front door.

"You may enter," she allowed, in case it was her secretary. It wasn't, though, it was Cassandra who walked through the door and shut it behind her, looking drained. "Cassie," Carmen greeted her, standing to give her a hug. "I feel like we haven't talked in ages. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Cassandra returned the hug, embracing her friend tightly, then lowered herself into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the woman's desk. "I'm okay," she said. "Busy with students. Tired. You look about the same," she commented, staring the older woman up and down. She smirked at the look on Carmen's face, knowing she was the only person in the entire academy who'd be able to say something like that and not get into trouble for it. "Just saying.". Carmen chuckled and pressed her lips together.

"Cassie, you look like shit," she bluntly replied. When Cassie opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, Carmen shrugged knowingly, arching an eyebrow. "Just saying." Cassandra knew she would be wrong to argue.

"I don't doubt it. To you, anyway. At least my students are still terrified of me." Cassandra sat back in her chair, crossing her toned legs, smiling in satisfaction.

"You do seem to have that effect on people," Carmen studied the younger woman's face, not unsympathetically. It was quite obvious that she still hadn't quit drinking, as she'd promised to do at the end of the last school year, but Carmen was the only one in the place who would have noticed.

"Mmmm," Cassandra could see straight through the pity in Carmen's eyes. She understood why it was there, but she hated it just the same. "So I've been told."

Carmen had picked up a pen to check a few students off of her list, but she set it down, giving Cassandra her full focus. The blonde dancer's eyes were red, and her concealer was wearing off from the day's work, the dark circles underneath starting to show. She was drunk and hadn't been sleeping well, that much was obvious.

"Cassandra. What's wrong with you?" Carmen asked point blank. Sometimes Cassandra was open enough around her to answer, and sometimes it had to be pried out of her with industrial strength tools. Her response would let Carmen know what kind of day it was.

"I'm - I'm not sure what you mean." Cassie's tone was dull, and Carmen had her answer. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses, and her lips became a tight, thin line.

"Well for one, you seem to have had enough alcohol today to stock a small bar. I can see it in your face, hear it in your voice."

"That's not fair. You know I'm trying to quit-"

"It's plenty fair, and you are doing no such thing." Carmen cut her off, waving a hand to dismiss her defense. "Trying," she scoffed, rubbing at her temples. "Cassie. What can I do to help? Hmm?" When Cass took too long to respond, she continued. "Tell me, what do you need? I know this job can't be enough for you. You need...something."

Cassie shrugged, looking away from her friend and boss, not knowing which one was speaking to her now. "I don't need anything from you, Carmen. I've told you, this job is more than enough. You know how grateful I am -"

"This is about more than just the job, Cassandra Vivian July, and you know it."

You got the full name, Cass. Time to throw in the towel.

Carmen leaned forward to emphasize what she was about to say. "You have got to stop punishing yourself for the things you did when you were younger, Cassie. It's eating you alive. You messed up, you made a mistake. You're human. That's why I believe in -"

"Second chances. I know, I know," Cassie rolled her eyes. "You know I don't believe in those."

"Why not?" Carmen pressed the issue, knowing that her friend couldn't continue like this for much longer. "Why is it so hard for you to forgive yourself?"

"Why should I? No one else has. Except for you. The real world doesn't believe in second chances, Carmen - or the people in theatre would be more forgiving."

There was a beat of silence before Carmen answered, slowly and carefully. "Do you honestly believe, if that were true, I would give them to my students? Or to you? It's my job to prepare young people to face the real world, Cassie, in case you've forgotten. You have a second chance, teaching here. You know as well as I do that I'm not the only person in the world who still believes in your talent."

Cassandra's cheeks reddened slightly at that. Suddenly, her fingernails were much more interesting than Carmen's eyes. "I'm not so sure about that."

"These days you aren't so sure about anything," Carmen snapped. She had had just about enough of this "woe-is-me" act from her. "Stop throwing yourself a pity party and get your ass back in the game. This isn't the Cassandra July I know and love. I know you miss the stage, and you miss your friends. But if they're your real friends, they'll answer you back. And you could still be cast in a new show, if you would only get out there and try."

"Like anybody would cast me," Cassie shot back. "And after ten years, I hardly think I'm getting my friends back."

Carmen shrugged, unmoved. "Maybe you should make new ones, then."

Cassie knew she wasn't going to win this. No one ever went up against Carmen and won. She stood up, stretching her legs, and walked around to the other side of the desk where Carmen sat. Leaning down, she kissed Carmen's cheek in thanks.

"You're the only friend I need, Carmen," she said, before heading back towards the older woman's office door. "Thank you for everything. Don't stay up here much longer, okay? You're going to work yourself to death."

She left the office without another word. Carmen listened to the sound of her stiletto heels clicking down the hall as she stalked off, disappearing into the night. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, sighing wearily. There was only so much she could do.

Quinn was beside herself. She'd just gotten her first test back, and had been very pleasantly surprised to see an "A" at the top of the paper. Her English Lit professor was a very stern, old school sort of guy, the kind of professor she'd seen in old movies with a tweed jacket that sported patches at the elbows and a pipe surgically attached to his mouth. She'd been intimidated by him in a way that Sue Sylvester could only dream of intimidating a student. Clearly, he was brilliant, an intellectual giant; Quinn was simply in awe of the man. His command of language, and of the class, was extraordinary. So she had thought there was no way anything she said in class or wrote on a test paper could possibly impress him.

Yet there they were, the notes in red pen, filling the margins with praise. Quinn thought she was hallucinating when she saw them, brought on by too much coffee and too little sleep. She couldn't wait to tell Rachel about it. So even though she still had a mountain of other work to do, she fired up her laptop and clicked the Skype icon, hoping that Rachel was home and available to talk.

She bit her lip, then her fingernails, waiting for Rachel to answer. When the screen brightened, the little diva's face wore a look of surprise mixed with delight.

"Quinn! I wasn't expecting you to call, but I'm so happy you did! I have so much to tell you -"

"I got an 'A' on my first test."

Rachel blinked, her train of thought completely derailed. It took a moment for her brain to reset. "Wait...what?"

"I got an 'A' on my first test!" Quinn repeated, much louder than the first time. "That English Lit test I was so worried about - remember? With the professor that had me so spooked?"

The memory returned, rising in Rachel's mind like a mist, and her eyes lit up with pride and happiness. "Really?!" she exclaimed, one hand flying up to her mouth. "Oh my God, Quinn! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you!"

Quinn laughed at the sight of her girlfriend jumping up and down like a small child who's just been told that yes, she can get a pony for her birthday.

"Rachel! Rachel, calm down," she called, straining to be heard over Rachel's wild shrieks of delight. "Listen, listen. He actually wrote notes on my paper, with words like 'astute' and 'insightful' and 'perspicacious.' On MY paper! Can you believe it? Because, seriously, I can't."

"I can, and I do. I've always said that you are so much more than just an incredibly pretty face, Quinn Fabray. When are you going to believe it too?"

"Ask me again after my next test in that class."

"Which will produce the exact same outcome, no doubt."

"I wish you were one of my professors. Most of them scare me to death."

Rachel laughed at the idea of the Quinn Fabray she knew at one time being intimidated by anyone. "If I were your professor, it would be a scandal. I would require you to love me in order to pass. The papers wouldn't be able to get enough of the story. The Diva Seductress, they'd call me, or something similarly tawdry."

"You're insane, Rachel. Do you know that?"

"Insanely in love with you."

Quinn blushed prettily. She still wasn't used to hearing those words from Rachel, despite the fact that she'd longed to hear them for years. "I'll bet you say that to all the girls."

"Nope - just you. Oh, Quinn. I'm so proud of you!"

"All right, all right, enough about me. What about you? You said you had a lot to tell me - I assume it's all about your outing to that karaoke place? What's the name of it again?"

"Callbacks. And yes, you are correct in your assumption. How very astute and perspicacious of you!" Rachel said wryly, making Quinn cover her face with her palm, groaning. "Said the proud girlfriend."

"Come on, Rachel. Please. I want to hear about you now."

Santana, walking past the curtain, couldn't help but overhear. Of course Q would want to hear Rachel talk about her favorite subject: herself. Well, screw that. Quinn might be Rachel's girlfriend, but she was also Santana's BFF, so maybe it was about time that she got to talk with the former Head Cheerio too. Without knocking on the doorframe, she pushed the curtain aside, strode into Rachel's bedroom and plopped herself down on the bed.

"Hey, Q! What's up?" she said cheerily, waving at the screen while pointedly ignoring Rachel's glare. "How's Yale treating you?"

"Santana!" Quinn smiled widely at seeing her best friend, waving back. "I've been meaning to text you, but school's kept me so busy - I'm really sorry. I know that's no excuse. How are you? Rachel was about to tell me about your big adventure last night."

"Yeah, I suppose you could say we had an interesting time. This one" - she pointed to Rachel - "was probably about to tell you only about what she did, but I'mma tell you the whole story, as only Auntie Tana can."

"Santana, be nice. I'm sure Rachel wasn't going to leave anything out."

"I most certainly would not have done anything like that. Thank you for defending my honor, though. It was very sweet of you." She glared at her roommate again, but the other girl simply held up a hand as if to say whatever. "Now, as for Callbacks. We -"

"Are you talking to Quinn again?"

Kurt's head appeared in the doorway, and both girls groaned while Quinn laughed at the perturbed looks on their faces. It reminded her of the days they'd spent together, the hours of glee club rehearsals and practices at one person or another's house.

"Hi, Kurt!" Quinn's voice shouted from the speakers of Rachel's laptop. "Why don't you come in and join us?"

"Yes, why don't you, Hummel? Now we can regale Q with three different versions of the same story, like she's got nothing better to do than listen to us jabber away all night."

Rachel bristled. "Don't be rude, Santana."

"Not being rude, short stack. Just keeping it real, like I always do."

Kurt seated himself beside Santana, keeping a safe distance between them as best he could, not wanting to risk injury should the girl's famous temper suddenly explode.

"Well," Quinn laughed lightly at her friends' usual banter. She missed being around it every day, as odd as that sounded. In a way, it was a comfort to her. "Who wants to start?"

"I will!" Rachel raised her hand as if she were vying to be called on in class, wanting to get a word in before Santana could interrupt her. "Since this was my conversation after all," she said, sounding bitter, but the comment went ignored. She took a deep breath and Quinn prepared herself for the barrage of words that were likely to flow off Rachel's tongue. with no break to breathe. This was something she was very used to, and while others claimed to find it annoying, she'd always thought it was adorable. "So we got there and Kurt fell head over heels for this gothically-dressed wannabe Gaga-"

"Hey now," Kurt held a hand up, his face reddening slightly. "First of all, he is not a Gaga wannabe, he has his own unique sense of style-"

Santana shook her head in disbelief. "Unique is one word for it."

"I happen to find it extraordinary," Kurt glared daggers at her.

"You'd find anything extraordinary if it wore leather pants and kissed you the way he did," Santana snapped back.

"Listen, Satan -"

Quinn held up her hands through the screen of Rachel's laptop. "Whoa, whoa - hang on! I'm confused. You're jumping all over the place. One person talk at a time, please. Now, Kurt - you were kissed?"

Kurt gazed down at his hands, looking suddenly embarrassed. "I - um...yeah, I was, but I mean, I'm sure he does that to everyone. It really wasn't that big of a deal…"

"I don't think so," Rachel turned to look at him, her voice soft and sincere. "He seemed genuine. I would say that he was every bit as starstruck by you as you were by him."

Santana pulled her long black hair up into a high bun on top of her head. "Maybe that's why they call him Starchild," she thought out loud. There was a beat of silence as the group considered this before Kurt continued. He knew Quinn was busy and didn't want to take up all of their time with her. Besides, they all had weekend assignments to work on, and they needed to go to the laundromat.

"So, anyway. Long story short: I met a guy, he was amazing, he gave me his number. We're supposed to have coffee sometime this week," Kurt concluded modestly.

Quinn smiled, her happiness infectious to all who looked at her. "That's great, Kurt. I'm so happy for you! You needed this."

"It was much more than just some soft little kiss," Santana piped up. "You're not giving it enough credit. That boy dipped you like you were doing a tango and made sure the whole club could see."

"New York sounds fascinating," Quinn looked down for a moment to move her homework off of her lap, replacing it with her laptop so that she could give her friends more attention. "Much more daring than quiet, bucolic Connecticut."

Rachel beamed. "It has its moments. Like when Kurt and I stunned the crowd with our rendition of Popular. Apparently, it goes over well with crowds even outside of Ohio! Oh, Quinn, you should have seen it. We were in a club full of performance students and they still loved it."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "That's really impressive," she admitted. "But I'm not surprised. You three were always the best performers in glee. The rest of us - well, except for Mike and Brittany - might as well have just stood and swayed in the background."

"I wouldn't say that," Kurt demurred. "Tina was very good, and Finn had his moments. So did Puck, every once in a great while. And you, Miss Fabray, were always radiant whenever you got an opportunity to shine." He pointed at the screen, relishing the blush that bloomed on Quinn's cheeks. "Don't even try to deny it."

Rachel nodded vigorously. "I agree completely. Your version of (I've Had) The Time of My Life with Sam was one of the highlights of our competitive career."

"They're right, Q. You were right up there with the best of us," agreed Santana. "How did you end up being the most modest member of the New Directions, anyway?"

"By singing and dancing with you guys," Quinn said earnestly. "Seriously, when I joined the club, I was just a cheerleader who could sing a little bit. You all made me better, but more importantly, you made me humble. When I admitted to myself that I wasn't as talented as the rest of you, it became easier for me to accept other things." Her eyes focused on Rachel meaningfully. "A lot of other things."

"Yeah, not so interested in that."

"Santana!"

Unfazed, the former enfant terrible of the Cheerios and the New Directions continued on as if she hadn't just been admonished by three of her closest friends. "Now, what happened to me at Callbacks, you're probably wondering? So glad you asked."

"She didn't," Kurt supplied helpfully. "But please, go ahead. You didn't say much about it when we got home."

"Well, you know how it is. Girls see the hotness, and they can't stop themselves. I had a bunch of 'em stop by our table while you and Elphaba there were on stage doing your thing, made some small talk, got all their digits. That's how Auntie Tana rolls."

"I didn't see you dance with anyone, though," Rachel mused. "That's unusual. Did you see her dance with anybody, Kurt?"

"Like he could see anything through the stars in his eyes. But yes, hobbit, for once you're right. I didn't dance with anyone. Dancing all the time for Professor July has left my feet a little too tender for recreational bump and grind, I'm afraid - at least right now. Soon enough, you'll see me back out on the floor embarrassing you all."

Quinn laughed heartily. "Oh, God, how I've missed you guys. But that reminds me - what's the story with this Cassandra July? I've been meaning to Google her ever since Rachel described her as a cross between Bebe Neuwirth and Genghis Khan."

Santana turned to Rachel, blinking. "Good one, Rachel. That was...almost funny. But please, leave the insults to those of us who don't hurt themselves when they think of them." She turned her attention back to the screen, ignoring Rachel's look of irritation. "Yeah, Cassandra July's classes are no picnic. Not gonna lie - she makes Coach Sue look like Mary Poppins. But the difference between them is that Professor July is actually good at what she does."

"Good at teaching, maybe," Kurt interjected. "But that's all she's been able to do for the last ten years, after crashing and burning off the Broadway stage in spectacular fashion."

"Look up 'Cassandra July incident' on YouTube," Rachel said. "That will tell you everything you were afraid to know, but had to ask anyway. Better yet, type in 'Biggest Trainwreck in Broadway History'."

No one noticed Santana's wince amid the laughter that followed. Nor did they know that she had already looked up that very thing, and been troubled - haunted, even - by it ever since. The bitterness in the woman's eyes, the sad, broken thing she'd heard in her voice when they'd spoken privately after class the other day...suddenly it all made sense. It had preoccupied her so much that she'd barely been able to make small talk with the girls at Callbacks. How could she focus on these shallow, insipid girls when there was a real woman out there who was clearly drowning in her own life? It gnawed at her thoughts, intruded on her dreams. She wanted to hear Ms. July's story from her own lips, not from a smug narrator on a YouTube video. Somehow, it seemed important to her, though she couldn't have explained why.

She rose suddenly, jostling Kurt so much that he fell back onto Rachel's small army of pillows. "Well, this has been fun," she said, pulling down the hem of her short, tight blue dress. "But I've got other stuff do. It was great seeing and talking with you, Q. I'll be waiting for that text you promised me. Don't make me wait too long."

"Or you'll go all Lima Heights on my perfect white ass?"

"I never said it was perfect," Santana corrected. "But it was pretty good." She paused for a beat, relishing the stunned silence. "And if Rachel's not lying, it still is."

And as she strutted out of Rachel's bedroom, she raised her arms in triumph as three voices shouted her name in unison once again.

. . .

Elsewhere in the city, Holly Holliday pulled her long, straight blonde hair into a sleek ponytail high on her head and stripped out of her work clothes to change into something more comfortable. Finally, her long day of teaching was over and she could relax in her own element. She poured herself a large glass of merlot, pulled on a pair of grey drawstring sweatpants and a black tank top, and grabbed her favorite blanket. Once she'd plopped down in a large, cozy chair, she grabbed her laptop and opened it, scrolling through her newsfeed to see what she'd missed that day.

She loved teaching, but it grew tiring. She'd gone to school for theatre and, for a time, had continued to audition, but got beaten out too often by younger, fresher talent. Now she taught drama at a school in Chelsea, where her apartment was. Her phone buzzed next to her and she stopped in mid-scroll.

The text she received was from her friend Shelby, who had finally gotten off work herself and had a second to talk.

Hey, you. Today was exhausting. Why did you ever tell me that "Broadway Daycare" was a good idea? I always wanted to be on Broadway, not be the performers' babysitter.

Holly laughed to herself, responding, Not sure, honey bunch. You got tired of Broadway, remember? I don't blame you. I'd get tired too if I played Maria 18 damn times…

She continued scrolling through her news feed and saw that Cassandra July was trending. She sighed, remembering what time of year it was. "Do you really want to click that link, Holliday?" she asked herself, her hand hovering over the mouse. She clicked. "Yes. You do."

Oh, yes. How could I forget? The dumbest decision I ever made. Leaving Broadway. Ugh.

Don't feel too sorry for yourself. At least you aren't Crazy Cassie July.

Oh, so you saw that she's trending?

Yeah.

I feel bad, Shelbs. This video is brutal.

There was a gap between responses and Holly cringed as the video unfolded, Cassie's yells echoing throughout the theatre she was in.

She did it to herself, Hol. Isn't karma a bitch?

Holly clicked off the offensive link, shuddering. With a sigh, she opened up another folder on her desktop and started looking through the pictures it contained. She, Cassie, and Shelby had once been inseparable. She missed that, really. Shelby was still an amazing friend, but she was always so busy with work and everything else she had going on in her life. Holly and Cassie had always been closer.

Face it, Hol. She drank herself into oblivion and knocked down everyone around her. She's toxic. Bad news.

That was a long time ago, Holly defended her old friend. Someone had to. I'm sure becoming known as Crazy July changed her a bit…

She came across an old video of the three of them. With a small, nostalgic smile, she clicked on it. Cass was singing and dancing around in Holly's old t shirt and a pair of shorts, using a hairbrush as a microphone. She wasn't drunk, just her younger, fun-loving self. Holly had been filming and flipped the camera to show them both when Cass kissed her cheek adoringly and Shelby joined in, kissing her other cheek. It was an innocent video, one that captured the way things used to be.

People don't change, Hol. They only manipulate other people into thinking that they do. Go ahead and reach out to her if you want. But don't say I didn't warn you when things don't go the way you think they will. I have to go, but I love you. Be careful!

Holly nodded, pressing her lips together. She understood where Shelby was coming from. At the end, Cassandra had made it all about her. Her audition, her graduation, her new show. As if all three of them weren't graduating and auditioning for exciting things. As if Shelby hadn't won the coveted leading role in West Side Story.

And then Cassie had beaten Holly out for the role in Damn Yankees. Cassie always beat her out. Ironically, that was the same role that had suddenly, spectacularly, ruined her career. One night out of hundreds. One terrible, horrible moment, captured forever on video and replayed endlessly all over the Internet for a decade. They'd both, she and Shelby, tried to console her, tried to help, but she'd pushed them away, preferring the comfort of a bottle to the comfort of her friends. She'd pushed them away so thoroughly that neither of them had spoken to Cassie in a decade.

"It's been 10 years," Holly thought aloud. "Maybe it's time. It can't hurt to just see how she's doing, can it? Maybe Shelbs is right, but maybe she isn't. Oh, hell - if I don't at least try, I'll always wonder what if…"

Taking a deep breath, she opened up a new email and typed something up before she could stop or second guess herself. She hit send as soon as she finished typing, not giving herself the chance to overthink it and back out.

She downed more of her merlot and sat back in her chair, her thoughts swirling like the wine in her glass. "Guess I'll just wait and see."