Author's Note: Based on "Remember the Time". This one will be continued (I'm thinking there will be another two or three more parts to it). Please send me reviews!
Do you remember when we fell in love?
We were young and innocent then
Do you remember how it all began?
It just seemed like Heaven
So why did it end?
Manhattan, New York
When Aria Evans' mother won her first Grammy, she wasn't even born yet. Her father was on his feet in the audience, one arm slung across her grandmother shoulders in an embrace, the other arm by his side with his hand clutching the small jewelry box deep within his D&G suit's pant pocket.
By the time she won her second Grammy, Aria was in the audience with her father, five-years-old and beaming with joy as her mother thanked God, the recording company, her manager, and then, last but not least, her family. She didn't remember much about that night, only the bubbly feeling she had felt afterwards watching her father kiss her mother tenderly as she held the award between her two small hands.
Now she was fifteen and watching her mother win her third Grammy. But she wasn't in the audience. She was at her father's apartment, lounging on the couch, snacking on butter popcorn. Aria grabbed the television remote and viewed the time that popped up as a part of the menu's display. Something was definitely wrong with this picture.
"I'm home!"
She didn't bother turning around to greet her father, instead choosing to turn up the volume on the awards show and adjust the pillow behind her head. "You're late."
He dropped his briefcase by the door and placed the paper bag he was carrying on the kitchen counter. "I brought Chinese. Thought you might like a break from my cooking. You're not eating, are you?" Aria held up the half-empty popcorn bag in response. "Well I hope you're still hungry. I got your favorites."
"Dad." Setting the bag on the nearby coffee table, she sat up on her knees to glare at him, arms folded on top of the back of the couch. "You're late."
Sam began pulling take-out cartons; he frowned at her in confusion. "Late…?" His gaze caught on the television. "Ah."
"Mom was nominated for Best R&B Song and Best Album of the Year."
He resumed his task, turning his back to her to gather plates. "Yeah, I remember you saying something about…"
"She won Best Album." Aria stood and came to stand at the counter. "You missed it."
"I was working. Storyboards at the office and…" Sam handed her a plate. "I'm glad you got to see your mother win and I'm glad that she did win. It was a great album. She deserved the award."
"We should've been there to cheer her on. Just because you two can't stand each other…"
"Who said anything about us not being able stand each other?"
"…Doesn't mean that we can't still act like a family."
Sam sighed, glancing again at the television and running a hand through his blonde hair before resting both hands on the counter. "Aria, I only get a few months with you before you go to live with your mother in LA."
"I know but…"
"And when I asked you if you preferred to make the move earlier so you could attend the awards, what did you tell me?"
"I said that I wanted to wait and finish out the school year in Manhattan with you but Dad…!"
He shook his head. "No buts. You were given the chance. Now can you stop with the guilt trip and eat your lo mein?" Aria dumped a hefty pile of noodles onto her plate, grumbling under her breath as she walked back to the couch. Sam watched her grudgingly begin to eat for a moment before fixing his own plate.
The decision to get a divorce wasn't an easy one, nor was it one that either he or his ex-wife made lightly. Initially, they had ignored the distance growing between them, chalking it up to having two completely separate careers that were rapidly advancing. It was a good thing, they'd told themselves as they provided for their daughter and were increasingly recognized in their respective fields. Receiving a Grammy was nothing to sniff at; neither was signing a contract with DC Comics. These were their dreams coming true.
"Dad?"
His train of thought lost, Sam frowned at the melancholy in his daughter's voice. "What's up, Aria?"
"Do you miss her at all? Do you wish she were here sometimes?"
He grabbed his plate, silverware, and enough napkins to share, coming to sit by her side. "Yeah. Yeah, Aria, all the time." His hand ruffled her sandy, unruly curls in attempt to cheer her. "How can I not miss her? You were always more behaved when she was around."
Aria's green eyes, identical to his own, were suddenly fixed on the television screen. He followed her gaze, his heart skipping a beat instantaneously. The commercial break was over; some entertainment news reporter backstage doing interviews with recent award winners was ushering his ex-wife to sit on a sofa with her.
Mercedes Jones. A smile came across his face as he drank in the sight of her for the first time in months. Her hair framed her face in soft brown-highlighted curls; her voluptuous figure was only accentuated by the red Versace dress she wore. She always looked stunning in red. Mercedes gave a quick smile to the camera in the midst of answering the rapid-fire questions the interviewer was shooting at her about how she felt, was the award expected, when was her next album going to be out, and Sam felt his loss of her all over again.
He tried not to notice any of the tabloids or even legitimate news stories about her. It was no longer his concern. Apart from being the mother of his child, she had no ties to him.
Except that she was the love of his life.
Los Angeles, California
"So what do you think? I mean, honestly, do you think it's a good idea?"
Kurt took an unhurried sip from his glass, smiling absently at the sweet taste of the Pink Moscato. "Honestly?"
"Of course!"
"I think it's the worst idea you've had since you wanted to wear leopard print on the 2013 album cover."
Mercedes dropped her sunglasses to sit lower on the bridge of her nose so she could properly glower at her best friend. "I apologized for that, Kurt Hummel. You can't hold it against me anymore. And besides…" She leaned forward against their small round table, a hand lifting to sweep her hair behind her ear as the wind gently tousled it. "I have to go on tour. Why shouldn't Aria come with me? You know she would love it and there really isn't an alternative other than her staying with her father."
Kurt nodded. "And speaking of her father, I know you realize that Sam would never be okay with you taking Aria on tour. He didn't agree to it last time or the time before that; he won't agree to it now. You'll be out of the country for a month and after that, it's seven states in a week. It's exhausting, it's not kid-friendly, and you'd barely have any quality time together."
"I would make time for her." Mercedes leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "I miss my baby girl, Kurt. He can't say no to this. It's bad enough that she has to divide her time between here and there just so she can have both of us in her life…"
"If you're gonna complain about that, you might as well go back to Sam."
Mercedes glared up at Santana as the tall Latina approached the table and leaned over to peck her cheek in greeting. "Not an option. And where have you been?"
"I've been helping Brittany with a little choreography disaster. One of your dancers needs to be replaced."
"What? Why? Which one?"
Santana waved for the waiter to come by and ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio, turning back to them with a mischievous smirk. "Which one do you think? It's Bianca. By the time of tour she'll be seven months."
"Seven months…? Oh." Mercedes pulled off her sunglasses. "She and her husband have been trying to get pregnant for two years now. I'm happy for them."
"Yeah well, I wish I could share in your happiness but I'm the one who has less than a week to find a replacement who can learn the routines. So. There's that." The waiter set her drink in front of her; she gave a small smile and surveyed their surroundings. "Rooftop dining. Ain't we fancy?" Mercedes responded with a shrug, looking out at the Los Angeles cityscape serenely. Santana narrowed her eyes at Kurt. "What're we talking about?"
He glanced at Mercedes and then smoothed out the material of his vest. "Aria's coming on tour with us this year."
A decidedly unladylike snort escaped from Santana but the amused expression on her face disappeared as she took in Mercedes' frown at her reaction. "Oh, this is serious? You're serious?" She shook her head. "Evans is going to kill you, Wheezy."
"It is not that big of a deal!"
"Hell, he might kill you just for asking again. Remember how hard you fought for it the first time you went on tour?" Santana scooted her chair in closer to the table and folded her arms across her chest. "We're still talking about Trouty here. The Trouty that asked you if he could have Aria so she'd have a normal life. You know how long the press and paparazzi have been waiting to get some dirt on the three of you? Take your kid on tour with you and see how many questions they ask her. They'll remember that Mercedes Jones' divorce could be a really great story."
Kurt crinkled up his nose. "Really? You're still holding on to that nickname?"
"Sure. Ol' Guppy Lips should be glad I even gave him one. Shows I care." Santana winked at him, chuckling when he rolled his eyes.
"She called me before I left for the Grammy's last week." They turned to Mercedes; she was lowering her glass from her lips and staring into it sadly. "My baby misses me…I miss her."
"What exactly did you expect when you moved out here to LA and left her behind? Tons and tons of time together?"
"Oh 'Tana. So sympathetic," Kurt muttered under his breath.
"I'm just saying." She searched Mercedes' face and groaned. Her hand stretched out to rest on her friend's arm. "Hey, if you want Aria to come with us…I'll fight with you to convince Evans that she should come. But it's not gonna be easy."
"It should be," Mercedes retorted, her voice suddenly sharp with frustration. "She's my daughter too. It's joint custody. If Aria wants to be with me, she should be able to be with me."
"And I'm really glad you feel that way, sweets. And honestly, I agree with you. But it's not going to be that simple. Especially since we all know that as soon as Evans looks at you with those sad puppy eyes and tells you no you're going to drop the whole thing. Just like last time."
"And the time before that," Kurt quipped.
Mercedes shook her head firmply. "No. Not this time. This time he's going to listen to me. And Aria's going to come on tour with me. And that'll be that. Easy. Simple."
Santana thumped the top of the table lightly with a fist. "No fuss."
"Absolutely no fuss. None."
Kurt looked between the two women for a moment, taking in their fierce expressions. Finally, he crossed his arms with a sigh. "Oh there will be a fuss. Trust me. There's always a fuss."
