a/n: Here's chapter 4. A lot happens, so let me know what you think! Enjoy!
Chapter 4: Special
I pull my car up to the curb in front of my house and quickly shut off the engine. Grabbing the grocery bag from the passenger seat I excitedly bounce to the front door. I can't wait to start making Santana's dinner. As I reach for the front door handle it suddenly gets pulled back, and I noticeably jump back as Katie appears.
"Hey, Katie," I recovered, "Where are you going?"
"Just to a friend's house." She pauses and smiles at me before adding, "To do homework."
"Oh, well have fun. It's too bad you're going to miss the amazing dinner I'm making tonight." I drew out the word 'amazing' and rolled my eyes in exaggeration. This causes Katie to giggle at me, and I smile at her reaction.
"Save me some leftovers," she replies, still chuckling to herself a little bit, "and don't burn down the kitchen."
"That was one time, Katie. And I didn't burn down the kitchen, I just caught the oven on fire." I try to defend myself. I'm a little hurt that she brought that up, because it was so long ago and I felt so back when it happened. It was an accident, of course, but I still got scolded severely for it.
"Yeah, well just the same, be careful." She turns and starts to walk towards her car. She just recently got her license, but Brian has been building her car for years. It's old like mine, but he added new shiny parts to it. Just as she's starting to duck down into the driver's seat she pops back out of the car and shouts back at me. "Oh, and Dad's in the garage. He's kind of in a mood. Don't bother him until food is ready." She gives me one last wave before she dips all the way into the car.
I nod my head in reply to her last statement, but it's wasted because she's already gone. I turn on my heels at walk in the house. Lord Tubbington doesn't greet me at the door, so he must be sleeping on my bed. I quietly reach the kitchen and set the grocery bag on the counter before tiptoeing to the living room. Brian isn't there, and the door to his room is open and shows that it is vacant as well. He must be in the garage as Katie said. Confirming that Brian is preoccupied I skip to my room to change into more comfy clothes. Sure enough, my precious ball of fur is sprawled out on my bed, lying in a ray of sunshine that is coming in through the window. I silently slip on sweat pants and a tank top and give the sleeping Lord Tubbington a little scratch on the head before bouncing back to the kitchen. I slowly empty the contents of the grocery bag and try to arrange them on the counter in the order that I'm going to need them. I soon realize I have no idea how to make what I'm making, so I give up on trying to organize the ingredients and pull out my phone instead. Was I supposed to call Santana, or was she going to call me? I decide to just call her since I was ready and she teased me earlier about not calling or texting her. After just one ring she picks up.
"Hello?" The word was rushed, and she sounded very anxious, almost like I had interrupted something.
"Hi, Santana. It's me, Brittany." There was a pause on the other line. "Is it alright that I called? Should I call back later or…"
"No!" She cut me off, then continued, "No, Brittany, now's perfect. Sorry, I just walked in the door. I thought I was suppose to call you, but I'm home now, so it's perfect." She sounded like she relaxed a little bit. I could hear her take a big breath, then she let out the word, "Hi."
"Hi," I repeated.
"So, are you ready to tackle your first lesson in cooking?" She asks.
"I think so," I replied with hesitancy. "I laid out everything you picked out at the store, but I'm telling you now that I don't know how to cook, so you're going to have to break everything down." I try to warn her one last time. Others have tried to teach me things with little to no success. So, I hope she realizes what she's getting into.
"Trust me, Britt. I've been cooking since before I could talk, and I'm a great teacher. Plus I have complete confidence in you. You'll do great." No one had ever said that to me, much less someone I hardly knew. Hearing that she had confidence in me made my smile reach from ear to ear. Just knowing she believed in me made me feel more self-assured, and I nodded my head.
When I realized she couldn't see my confirmation I gave her an "Okay."
"Okay," she repeated. "First thing's first: preheat the oven to 350 degrees."
I walk over to the oven and turn the preheat dial to the correct temperature. "Done." I smile satisfactorily.
"Okay, next we're gonna cook the pasta." I wait for her to continue, but she didn't.
"H-How do I do that?" I could feel my confidence beginning to slip away from me. I've made macaroni before, but the noodles always taste really soggy, and I don't know what I do wrong.
"Oh," the surprise was evident in her voice, but she quickly continued. "Okay, first get a pot, and fill it about two-thirds with water. Then put it on the stove on high to boil it."
I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear before leaning down to the cupboard to look at the pots. "For the pot, does it matter what size it is?" I ask.
"Well how many people are you cooking for? Just you and Brian?" She asked. I could tell she was being very patient with me, even though I felt like I was asking stupid questions.
I thought for a second. "Um, three." I said as I remembered that Katie wanted some leftovers.
"Okay, then you'll want a medium-ish size. Anything will work, honestly."
"Okay." I grabbed the medium size pot and put it under the faucet. "You said two-thirds full, right?" I asked.
"Yeah, about. It doesn't have to be exact." I felt better about that.
After I place the pot of water over the stove I step back to look at it. "Do I add the noodles now?" I could hear her soft giggle on the other side of the phone, causing my face to heat up slightly. "Sorry, that was a dumb question. I can–… I-, I just never can make them right. I wanna do it right so they're not soggy," I admit sheepishly.
"No, sorry, that wasn't a dumb question. It was cute. Sorry for laughing." I could tell that she was still trying to hold back her laughing a little bit, but it didn't feel like she was laughing at me. I think she was truly just a little surprised at my question. I still felt a little embarrassed though. "So, to cook noodles you should wait for the water to boil before you add the noodles. That will help so they don't get soggy. Then you remove them from the heat just a little bit before they feel ready, but not too early." That sounded really complicated, so I didn't say anything back. She seemed to pick up on my confusion because she added, "I'll tell you when they should be ready, don't worry. And after doing it a couple times you'll get it down. It just takes some practice." I nodded and felt myself relax a little more. Santana knew what she was doing, and she was being really patient and nice in trying to help me learn. Maybe I could ask her to cook with me sometime, like in person and not just on the phone. I'm sure if I practice with her I can learn a lot.
While waiting for the water to boil, Santana instructs me in cutting up the tomatoes and onions. During that time she started asking me questions to get to know me better. I think she could tell that I was nervous about cooking and wanted to help get my mind off of it. And whenever it was time to do something else in the cooking process, we would pause our conversation, and she would slowly and patiently break down the directions for the next step in the recipe before asking me more questions about myself. I was really glad she did, because it was fun to talk to her and thinking of my answers totally took my mind off of being nervous about cooking.
She asked about what it was like growing up in Lima, and I told her all about the park and the ducks, and how we usually get snow in the winter. I even told her about the snowman that Katie and I made when we were little and how it lasted for like a whole month because it was so cold that year. I then had to tell her who Katie was. I told Santana how pretty and smart Katie was and that she was a really good sister who had lots of friends and did really well in school. She asked if I had any pets, and I spent ten minutes telling her any and all stories I could think of about Lord Tubbington. She laughed when I described him and said that she would put him on a diet if he were her pet. When I told her that he was on Atkins she laughed really hard again. It made me smile how much she was laughing and seemed to be enjoying my stories. She even asked about working at the café, and I told her how the cash register frustrated me but I loved making the coffee drinks, especially when I got to put whip cream on them.
At this point in cooking I'm finally pouring the pasta and cheese sauce mix into the baking pan. I add the chorizo and roasted tomatoes and onions before carefully placing the pan in the oven. After following Santana's directions to set the timer for a half hour, I step away from the oven and lean up against the kitchen counter. "Done." I chirped with a quick nod into the phone. She continued to ask me simple questions, like my favorite color, food, and vacation.
When she finally asked if I went to the university, I was a little tentative, or maybe embarrassed, to answer her. "Well, um, no. I don't go to school. I was never really good at school. Like tests are hard for me cause I just don't understand school. I'm not smart like Katie. Plus I wouldn't even know what to study."
She was quick to respond. "Don't say that about yourself. You're plenty smart. Tests are just directed to the learning styles of certain types of students. It's not entirely fair to students who learn in different ways."
"Hm." I never thought about different learning types. I learn pretty well if someone just takes the time and patience to walk me through it, just like Santana was walking me through cooking. I could hear her sigh in what sounded like frustration. I wonder what she was frustrated about.
I forgot about it as she continued, "If we went to school together I totally would've helped you study. I would've made it my mission to teach you in a way you could understand." Even though it was a completely theoretical statement I couldn't help but picture us being friends in high school, sitting next to each other in class, studying together at each other's houses. The hypothetical images made me smile. I wish we went to high school together… "And I bet if you went to college you could find something you're good at that you'd enjoy studying. And even if we weren't in the same classes I'd try to help you if I could." Again her belief in me was surprising, especially since we hardly knew each other, but I couldn't help but beam at her statement. I'm sure my cheeks were also pink, because my face felt super warm. Santana was the nicest, sweetest person I ever met, and I just met her today. "You still there, Britt?" It took me a second to realize she was talking to me.
"You're really sweet and nice, Santana, like nicer than anyone else I know." I didn't mean to say it out loud, and I probably should have been embarrassed that the words just fell out of my mouth, but I was also kind of glad that I told her because I wanted her to know that she made me feel special. I stopped what I was doing and listened into the phone for her response.
"Thanks," she finally said in a soft voice, but I could tell that she was smiling too. "You're easy to be nice to." She paused again before adding,"I'm glad I'm getting to know you."
I didn't think my smile could get any larger, but I'm pretty sure it did because my face hurt due to the bigness of my grin. "Me too." I added.
Beep. Beep. Beep. I look over to the over and see the blinking display on the clock.
"Yay, it's done!" I squeal into the phone as I skip over to the oven.
"Don't forget the hot mitts!" Santana reminds me. I'm glad she did, because I was so excited about the food I wasn't even thinking about getting burnt. After slipping on the oven mitts I carefully take the pan out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. I close my eyes and let the fresh, delicious scent waft up to my nose.
"Mm. Smells delicious!"
"How's it look? The cheese on top should be just a little golden brown," Santana instructs. I notice that the cheese is just as she described.
"It looks perfect!" I smile in disbelief. Wow, I can't believe we did it. "Thank you so much, Santana! I cooked, like for real! This is so cool!" By this point I'm gripping the phone with both hands and am bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet.
I can hear her giggle through the phone. "You're welcome, and it was my pleasure. I hope you guys enjoy it."
"Oh, it's perfect! I can't wait to try it!" Just as I finish talking I can hear the door from the garage opening, and I know Brian is coming in for dinner. "Oh, hey, Santana? Brian just stepped in. He's probably starving. Can I call you back later?"
"Yeah, yeah. No worries," she rushes out, "Enjoy it! And tell me how it is, how Brian likes it. He's crazy if he doesn't." She's still laughing a little, and I join her. "And yeah, I'll be home. Call whenever. I wanna hear!"
"Sweet. Good. Okay, I will. Bye." The words rush out of my mouth in hushed whispers. I can hear Brian's loud steps coming towards the kitchen from the hallway. As much as I'd love to keep talking to Santana on the phone, I know I'll talk to her later. But right now I really want to see the look on Brian's face when he sees the home cooked meal I've prepared…with Santana's help.
"'K, bye." I hear her whisper back, followed by the click of the phone. With that, I stuff my phone into my sweatpants pocket and turn to greet Brian.
As he comes into view he seems a little disoriented, like he wasn't expecting me to be standing there waiting for him. I just smile at him in response. He's covered in grease from whatever project he was working on in the garage. He looks at me questionably, and then looks around the kitchen as he approaches the sink to wash his hands. After glancing at his hands under the water, and back at me, then back to the water, he finally speaks in a low, gruff voice. "What's with the dopey grin?"
My smile falters, but just for a second. I quickly recover and take a step closer to him, hands interlaced behind my back. "I made dinner. I think you'll really like it." I hold my smile at him.
I take another step towards the sink and raise my eyebrows in anticipation. He looks to me briefly before scanning the kitchen once again. After his eyes finally catch the pan on the stove he looks down again to his hands under the faucet. "I thought I told you pasta doesn't count as dinner. It's not meat."
I'm quick to take a step towards the pan this time. I raise my pointer into the air in defense and cheerfully reply, "But wait, there is meat." He looks at me with reservation. "You see, there's chorizo in here. Spicy chorizo. That's meat. And you love spicy. And it's suppose to be really good." I freeze and anticipate his response with apprehension. He seems to be thinking about it for a few long seconds before he lets out a sigh.
"Well fine. Dish me up a plate," he mumbles as he slaps off the faucet. My smile recovers, and I immediately reach for a plate and serving utensil. "I'll be watching TV," he adds, and I hear his footsteps walking away.
I take extra care to scoop him out a big, tasty-looking portion, making sure to get plenty of chorizo chunks on the plate. I try to rearrange the food on the plate so it looks super fancy and nice, but no matter where I move it around the plate it looks the same. I remember to grab a fork and paper towel square before I carefully walk the plate to the living room.
Brian barely glances up before grabbing the plate and training his eyes back on the TV. I take a step back and fasten my hands together, eagerly waiting for him to try his first bite. After a few seconds he seems to notice me standing there and looks at me with an annoyed glare. "What are you doing? Stop staring at me eating. Get me something to drink or something."
I don't hesitate and actually half jog to the kitchen. Some people don't like an audience while they're eating. That's understandable. Plus I think in his mind Brian doesn't want to like the pasta, but I think he will once he tastes the chorizo in it. When I was little, my mom made zucchini bread, but because I hated zucchini I refused to even take a bite. I even threw a fit all over the kitchen. But when she finally convinced me to just take a tiny taste I actually really liked it even though I didn't want to like it. But it didn't taste like zucchini at all. It was actually really yummy and sweet. Now I know I like zucchini bread so I don't even pretend I don't like it anymore.
I open the fridge and peer inside for a few seconds before finally reaching in and grabbing the milk carton. I know Brian doesn't usually drink milk for dinner, but milk goes really well with spicy foods. I fill a glass a little too full and put the milk away before carefully walking back out to the living room, taking extra caution not to spill any milk on the carpet. I slowly lower the glass and set it on a coaster on the side table by Brian's recliner. Peeking over at the plate in his lap I notice that he's taken several large bites out of his food. The corners of my lips slowly lift into a grin and I leisurely stand back up and take a step back from his chair.
"So, how is it?" I ask hopefully.
"Not bad." He answers while keeping his gaze locked on the TV. "I was expecting worse," he adds.
My shoulders noticeably relax, and I throw a small fist pump into the air for the victory. I can't wait to tell Santana that her dinner was a hit. Maybe she can help me come up with other foods that Brain would like. And maybe she'll even talk me through the recipe on the phone again; only I can ask her questions next time. Oh, or maybe she could just come over and we could actually cook it together. Then after dinner we could go to a movie or go bowling or something. At this thought I beam hopefully. That would be so much fun. When I call Santana tonight I should remember ask her if she wants to come over to cook with me.
I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I see movement coming from my peripheral vision. While still staring at the TV, Brian blindly reaches for his milk glass. When his fingers finally clamp around the glass he looks at it in confusion. "What the hell, Brittany?" He stares at the milk glass before snapping his attention to me. What did I do? Was the milk was bad? I forgot the check the expiration date on the milk carton, but I was pretty sure it was still good since we bought it last weekend.
"What?" I nervously question.
"What do you mean, 'What'? Where's my beer? I told you to get beer." He voice increases in volume.
Crap. Realization dawns on me as I remember Katie's text. She specifically said to get beer, and I decided I would grab it at the end so I wouldn't have to carry it the whole time. Only I forgot the get it after Santana helped me with my shopping. "I- um, I forgot." My eyes wander to stare at my feet, and I once again squeeze my hands together in worry.
"Godammit, Brittany!" He slams the milk glass onto the side table, and I jump at the clash. I can hear my heart start to pound against my ribcage. I look up enough to see that the once full glass is half empty, and milk is splattered all over the side table, Brian's arm, and the carpet. I snap my eyes back to my feet and take a hesitant step backwards.
"I- I'm sorry." I stutter out. "I meant to grab it, bu-…" Brian cuts me off before I can finish.
"…but you're an idiot! Who can't do anything right!" I pinch my lips together and take another step back, but my back hits the wall. I can feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes and I shake my head and will them not to fall. My hands are squeezed so tightly together that through my teary vision I can see my white fingertips. I don't relax my grip, though, because I think it's helping to keep my tears in. "Just…I can't even look at you right now! Get out of my sight!"
I don't wait for him to change his mind and call me back to yell at me some more. I make a dash down the hall, grabbing my keys off the landing before bolting out of the front door. I run to my car and use shaking hands to unlock the door. When I finally get it open I scramble to get in and shut the door and push down on the lock. I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks now, but I don't even remember when I finally allowed them to fall. I don't care at this point, though. I just care about getting away from here. I fumble with the keys again before I finally jam the correct one into the ignition. When I finally turn the key I hear the cranking sounds, but the engine won't turn over. "Come on…please." I whisper through frustrated tears. I turn the key again, but I just hear more chugging and rattling. After a few more tries I realize it's not going to start.
The tears double their efforts in falling, and I can barely see through the haze. Without another thought, I throw the door open and start running. I don't know where I'm heading, and at this point I don't really care. I just need to get away.
I'm glad it's late enough that no cars are driving by, because a hysterical girl running blindly down the street is not something people want to deal with, nor do I want to deal with anyone when I'm like this. I don't know how long it's been when I finally have to stop running. My chest is heaving and I bend down to rest my hands on my knees. My crying has stopped, but I think it's because the tears ran out. I still feel like crying, but I think my body needs time to make more tears. I stand up again and regret it instantly as a hammering headache attacks. I force my palms into my itchy eyes and try to rub the hurt away.
I pull my palms away from my puffy eyes and immediately recognize where I am. No one else is at the park this late, and again I'm thankful for that. I don't really know how late it is, but the sun is just now starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the park pond. My whole body aches from the exertion of crying and running, but I force myself forward until I reach my destination. Finally reaching my bench, I allow myself to collapse onto it. With my eyes closed my hand instinctively reaches for the carving I've memorized in my mind. My chest is still rising and falling with force, but I feel a slight calmness begin to take over me as I rub my fingers back and forth over the indentations in the bench. I focus on my breathing and will myself to slow it down, taking slow, deep breaths.
After several moments I can feel my heartbeat settle and my breathing regulate. The only sound I can hear is the occasional sniffle that escapes without warning. My body feels drained and exhausted, I realize, as I slump my shoulders forward. A chilly breeze starts to pick up, causing goose bumps to cover my arms. I wonder if the sun has set already. When I finally open my eyes I see that the sun has, in fact, completed its descent.
I let out a deep sigh and shake my head. Things had not gone the way I planned. I wanted Brian to love the dinner I made for him, but instead I ruined it by forgetting his beer at the store. Ugh, why couldn't I just remember the stupid beer! I close my eyes and hit my forehead with the palm of my hand, immediately regretting it as I feel the pounding headache return. I feel the breeze again and shiver against the cold. I notice I'm still in a tank top and forgot to grab a jacket during my rush out the door. Not being able to change that now, I pull my knees up to my torso and tuck my arms between my legs and my chest, trying to keep warm. I turn my head and rest my ear on my knees before I close my eyes again.
I don't know how long it's been before I'm startled by a buzzing in my pocket. I jump at the feeling and quickly reach into my pocket to pull out my vibrating phone. I forgot that I had it with me. I blink a couple times trying to focus on the bright light as it illuminates the caller's name. Santana. I forgot to call her back. She wants to know how Brian liked the dinner. I don't even know where I would begin to describe my evening, and I don't feel like talking to anyone either. Also, I'm still holding back sniffles, so I decide to let it go to voicemail. When the phone displays '1 Missed Call' I also notice that I have a missed text. I open it and see that it is from Santana, but it was sent almost an hour ago. I must have gotten it when I was running and didn't feel the vibration. I click it open.
Hey girlie, how was dinner? :) –S
I close my phone and place it in my lap. It makes me feel a little better that she texted and called me, like she really wants to know how it went. I just don't know what to tell her. Dinner was awful, but Brian did actually seem to enjoy the food she picked out. Maybe I could just tell her that Brian liked the food. That wouldn't be lying, because I know he did. I don't think I could sound normal on the phone though, so I can't call her back. I decide to reply to her text instead. I reopen my phone and start to open her message again when my phone buzzes again, indicating a new voicemail. I abandon writing my text and hit the button to play the message, pulling the speaker up to my ear.
"Hey Britt, it's Santana. I'm just calling to see how the dinner went. It's been like two and a half hours, so I'm assuming you're all done eating. I'd actually be shocked and maybe a little disgusted if you're actually still eating after all this time." Her voice was so light and cheery. It felt like the complete opposite of what I was feeling at the moment. I'm kind of glad I didn't answer the phone. "So, yeah… I was also kind of bored, so I just wanted to see what you're up to. I had fun talking on the phone earlier. Like I don't think I've laughed that hard in forever… You're pretty funny." I could hear her laugh a little to herself during the message. "Well anyway, call me back if you want. Unless you're avoiding me again." She was teasing again, and even though I was still sniffling from crying my eyes out earlier, I couldn't help but smile at her message. It was actually starting to make me feel better. "…okay, I'm rambling now." I think I missed a chunk of her message, but I'm pretty sure it was more playful teasing. "Well if I don't hear from you, have a good night. But you better be working tomorrow 'cause imma want my coffee, and there is no way I'm letting that dwarf of a girl make my drink. 'K, bye, Britt."
I closed my phone and set it in my lap again. When a moment ago I was so overwhelmed and exhausted that I was waiting for my body to make more tears so I could cry some more, I now feel like my sadness has lifted. I feel so light, maybe even a little light-headed, but not in a bad way. Even though Santana didn't know I had a bad night, her message made me feel like she knew exactly what happened and was trying to cheer me up. Instead, she cheered me up without even realizing I needed cheering up.
I kind of feel like crying again, but not because I'm sad. I don't really know why I want to cry. I think it's because Santana was so nice to me today. She stood up to Rachel for me at work, and she tied my shoe. At the store she was super playful and funny, and she helped me pick out a yummy meal and even helped me get all the groceries for it. Then she was sweet and patient on the phone when she was teaching me to cook, and asked me questions to make me feel less nervous. And now she left me a super fun message and knew just how to make me feel better without even knowing that I was sad. I've never had a friend that did so much for me in one day. Plus I don't even know if I can consider Santana a friend yet since I was just introduced to her today.
Regardless, I feel happy, and it's because Santana made me feel so special today. I pull up her text message again and type out my message:
Thanks for making me feel special today… –B
I hit send. I realize I didn't really answer her question about dinner. And I didn't really respond to any part of her voicemail, but it's all I could think to tell her right now. I really wanted her to know that though, even if it didn't make that much sense to her.
I sat there for a few more minutes. I kind of expected her to text me back asking about dinner again or to ask how she made me feel special, but she never did. Looking down at my phone again I see that it's almost midnight, and I have to work in the morning. I slowly drag myself up from the bench and wrap my arms around my body as I start to walk towards home. I enter my dark house, thankful that Brian is already in bed. When I finally reach my room and collapse on the bed I think I'll fall asleep within seconds. Just as I feel myself start to drift my phone buzzes in my hand, stirring me awake. I click it open to see a message from Santana.
You're a special girl, Britt –S
A small smile escapes my lips, and I close my eyes and surrender to sleep.