Behind the Curtain
The gossip mill is running full tilt and caught in the middle is our new favorite Jekyll & Hyde duo, Rachel Berry and Santana Lopez. Rumor has it that these femme-friends are moving from best friends to special friends – and fast! Don't believe everything you hear about these former high school pals! An insider from Lopez's camp has this to say:
"While Santana would certainly do well with a lady like Rachel on her arm, the truth is they are old high school friends. Good fortune (and a great manager) brought the show - and, in effect, Rachel - into Santana's life. Rachel has proven to be a stalwart friend and has really bolstered Santana's spirits as she navigates this rough path."
Lopez will continue her run as Lucy while Bridget Moyne is on maternity leave from the show. The reviews have been spectacular – catch it while you can!
Santana pours two glasses of red wine. The full-pour, as opposed to her more conservative three-quarter-pour, is a sign of a stressful week. With Maya tucked into bed, Santana allows herself the time to relax a little, to let her hair down – goodness knows she needs it.
"So?" Holly leans back, wine glass in hand. "Tell me you loved my statement. It was a masterpiece, right?"
Santana brings the wine glasses over to her friend and hands one to her friend. "Best you've ever come up with. I'm impressed."
"You like when I'm cheeky," Holly says with a wink. "And, just so you know," she points to her friend. "So far, I think more people are disappointed that you're not dating Rachel than would have been outraged if you were."
She takes a sip and raises her brows. Holding up her glass, Holly says, "This is good."
"It should be. It's fucking expensive." Santana takes a sip from her own glass and furrows her brow at the blonde. "What do you mean people are disappointed?"
Holly shakes her head. "I'd read it to you but I don't want to get up to get my phone. All I can say is that there are a lot of people who want you to be happy." She smiles faux-sweetly and tilts her head. "Awww, fans, right? Super nice. And then there are the people who think two hot women getting it on is sexy."
She swishes her wine in the glass and looks up. "I just can't believe you have more of the first than you have of the second. Happy, do-gooder, rah-rahs."
Santana grins. "I do have the nicest fans." Santana concentrates on sipping her wine and staring in front of her. "So, people would have been happy if Rachel and I were together? There are actually people who wanted it - I mean, no media outrage?"
"Media outrage? Please. If it was true, I'd get you on Ellen - maybe have you tell some romantic tale to Oprah ..." Holly thinks aloud but then stops abruptly and narrows her eyes at her friend. "Why ..."
Santana shrugs. "Just - wondering."
"It would sure be a helluva lot easier than spinning a story of you staying with DBag." Holly curls her legs up onto the couch and stares at her friend. "Okay, but here's the thing ..."
Santana furrows her brow. "There's a thing?"
"There's a thing when you 'wonder.' Since when do you 'wonder'?" Holly asks, not taking her eyes off of her friend. "If you want to know something you ask. Same with me. If I want to know something, I ask."
She uncurls one leg and pokes Santana's leg. "So? You gonna make me ask?"
Santana rolls her eyes playfully and bites her lip nervously as she takes a moment to think how she should break what she's about to say to her friend. "Okay, so remember when I said that – that thing about how Rachel and I were just a fling?" She glances at her feet.
"Yes ... " her friend answers warily. "Are you flinging again? Is there flinging happening and you didn't tell me?"
Santana wrinkles her nose. "That word sounds so wrong." She chuckles nervously and shakes her head. "No, there's no flinging going on. But, I uh, I might have downplayed our history a little. You know, the whole 'fling' thing …"
"So," Holly plays with the stem of her wine glass. "Not a fling. Does that mean something more along the lines of experimentation or are you talking about a relationship?"
Santana tries to play her confession off by sipping from her glass casually. "Uhm, you know, there might have been an 'I love you' exchanged – or something."
The woman on the other end of the couch doesn't say anything. She just stares at her friend and purses her lips.
Santana glances at her friend and frowns. "Are you mad?"
"Mad?" Holly shakes her head, though her curved down lips seem to tell otherwise. "Confused, maybe?" She blinks a few times and then shrugs. "I thought you trusted me."
"I do trust you, Holls. You know I do." Santana gives her manager a soft look. "I wasn't ready to admit that it was more when I told you."
"And you're ready to admit it because ..." Holly catches her friend's eye and tilts her head. "Rachel?"
Santana purses her lips together and shrugs. "Maybe."
Her friend studies her before asking, "So. What happened, then? With Rachel. Why'd your non-experimentational fling end?"
"Short story?" Santana glances down at her feet.
"Whatever story you want to tell me," Holly says. She points her finger at Santana and adds, "As long as it's the real story this time."
"My family. My grandmother, to be exact..."
Santana furrows her brow as she glances at her algebra homework. She sighs and rolls her eyes, regretting her decision to take the honors class in the first place.
"Don't make that face," her grandmother says as she passes by on her way to the fridge. "You're too pretty and too smart to be making that face."
Santana smiles softly at her grandmother. Looking back down at her paper, she sighs heavily and complains, "I just don't get this assignment. I'm gonna call Rachel to get some help."
"I will help you," her grandmother says firmly. It's obviously not an offer from the way her voice pins the statement with finality.
Santana frowns and furrows her brow as she looks into her grandmother's eyes. "But, you have a church meeting ..."
"It can be rescheduled. And even if it couldn't," she closes the fridge and sits down at the table, "you're more important - family comes first."
Though her voice is gentle, there's power behind her words, almost as though she's restraining herself. "Family first," she repeats as she looks into eyes so much like her son's - like her own.
Pursing her lips, Santana blinks to break eye contact and swallows roughly. She knows that voice her grandmother is using right now and she knows that it means business. Questioning her or her motives will only get her into trouble.
But Santana has always been a stubborn child and never one to give in easily. "Abuelita, it's really not a problem. I know how much the church women rely on you ..."
"Maybe," the older woman allows. "But my family relies on my, too. Or is it just that you'd rather get help from your ...," she pauses and folds her hands primly on the table, "friend? Is that it?"
Santana just shrugs. "I was thinking about hanging out with her afterwards anyway. So I just figured we could do homework together, too."
Her grandmother steeples her fingers together and makes a soft humming sound. "And you think that's wise?"
This was one of her favorite tactics: playing patient and acting like someone else's opinion has merit. If there is anything Ana Maria Lopez is known for, it's not her patience nor is it her ability to let others take the lead.
When she asks questions like this, everyone has come to learn, it can only be one thing: a trap.
Santana glances down at the open book in front of her, frowning. She knows she's walking a fine line, but she can't give just give in. "I do homework with Quinn …"
Her grandmother inhales deeply and lets the breath out slowly. "Quinn," she says as she nods slowly. "Why don't you ask her for help? She's a smart girl."
"Because Quinn isn't in this class."
"Then it's a good thing I know math so well, isn't it?" The older woman smiles smugly and leans across the table to look at the book, ready to provide her assistance.
"Abuela ..." Santana puts on her best pout as she looks into her grandmother's eyes.
Leaning back in her chair, the other woman says, "I know a lot of things, Santana. It's my job as your grandmother, as your elder, to share those things with you. Now, I may be old, but I don't suppose numbers and how they work has changed much."
Deciding that arguing isn't going to help, Santana lets out a defeated sigh.
After working through a few of the simpler problems, Santana's grandmother asks, "Is there an issue you're having other than math that I can help you with? Anything else?" It's clear from the way she's speaking that she believes there is.
"Like what?" Santana purses her lips together and her brows push together in confusion.
Her grandmother leans forward and places her hand over Santana's. "I know that your mother and father have raised you to be a charitable person," she begins. "It's a trait I believe is very important and something I consciously encouraged in your father when he was a little boy. You have a very good heart and I am very proud of that. So, if there's a conflict between being a giving, charitable person and the ethics that the church - that your family - has instilled in you. You can talk to me."
Squeezing her granddaughter's hand, she says with her eyes shining hopefully, "I can help you."
Santana glances at their hands and swallows roughly before looking up into her grandmother's eyes. She takes a moment to think about her options. Obviously, her grandmother thinks something is going on – something that has to with Rachel.
Trying not to jump to conclusions about what her grandmother might know, or what she might assume, she takes a calming breath. Ultimately, Santana knows she can't talk about this. What's on her mind is a subject that isn't permitted.
"There's nothing, Abuela."
"Rachel is a nice girl," her grandmother offers kindly. "She didn't have a choice in her situation. Yet ..." she tilts her head to the side, thoughtfully. "She's not my granddaughter."
Looking into Santana's eyes, she continues, "You are. And I'm very proud of the friend you have tried to be to her. But I'm afraid your influence isn't enough, is it?"
She shakes her head again. "Perhaps she's got more influence on you?"
Santana's eyes widen and she can feel how hard her heart is beating in her chest. "What do you mean, Abuela?"
"I mean that you can't lead her away from the sin in which her life was created, Santana," she says easily, almost as though she'd prepared the words. "Her home is a home of sin and no matter how hard you try, you won't be able to undo what has been done."
She looks at Santana meaningfully as she shares her perception of the situation. "At best, you run the risk of losing sight of what you know to be true. What you are trying to do is noble but unachievable."
Santana narrows her eyes and tilts her head, unsure if she understands her grandmother correctly. "You think - you think I'm trying to de-gay Rachel and her family?"
"De-gay? No, no," she replies, laughing softly at Santana's suggestion. "That's impossible. I think we both know that there will always be sheep who will never find their way back to the flock."
Crossing her arms over her chest, her grandmother sighs sadly. "Those sheep, the lost ones are gone, Santana. There is no hope for them. I hate to sound like a non-believer because you know, I know you know, that I am a woman of the utmost faith."
She breathes out and takes her granddaughter's hand again. "You can't bring every lost lamb back to the flock. The best you will achieve is being lost yourself." Looking meaningfully at Santana and says, "And I don't think I could bear losing you like that."
Santana lets out a shaky breath. Though she always believed her grandmother to be a woman who stuck by her family, she had been a constant in her life, she knew that, even more, her grandmother was also a woman who stuck by her beliefs. Even though Santana didn't hold so tightly to those beliefs, no matter how hard her family has tried to lead her, she knows a losing battle when she sees it.
She's being given an ultimatum and her relationship with her grandmother is what she has to lose.
"Are you saying I can't be friends with her anymore?"
"I'm just asking you to think carefully about where your friendship is taking you. That's all." She lets go of Santana's hand and taps her math book. "You're smart. You'll make the right choice."
Santana knows that she's not really being given a choice. In her own way, the older woman is telling her to forget about Rachel. But how is she supposed to forget about the girl who earlier that morning told Santana she loved her?
Santana nods softly and asks, "Can you help me finish my homework, then?"
The older woman's definition of helping was very similar to the adage about fishing: give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day, but teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.
Instead of working through the math problems with Santana, she reiterated the formulas she needed to get her answer. No hints. No clues. Her granddaughter would learn to work it out for herself. That's the way her son did it and it worked out well for him.
To soothe the frustration that comes with hard work (and with math homework in general) and to smooth any frayed edges that may have been created by their talk, Santana's grandmother offers to make a special trip to the store to buy Santana's favorite ice cream for the family to share after dinner. A little something sweet to get rid of the bitter taste of the topic they'd discussed earlier.
It worked when Santana was five and she was certain it would work now.
Santana watches her grandmother leave through the kitchen window, making sure she was gone before doing what she knew she would have to do. Grabbing her letterman jacket from the back of a chair, she puts it on as she makes her way out of the house.
It doesn't take Santana long before she finds herself in front of Rachel's door. Granted, the other girl only lived a few houses away, but this trip seems especially fast. Perhaps it usually seemed longer because normally she couldn't wait to see her girlfriend.
This wasn't going to be one of those trips where they'd end up cuddled together on the couch or giggling as they rested side-by-side on Rachel's bed. There would be no sneak-attack kisses or tickle fights. Santana dreads what this visit will mean and it's made all the more nerve-wracking by the fact that the short walk over leaves her no time to prepare.
Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she rings Rachel's doorbell and shifts nervously as she waits.
A muffled "I got it!" makes its way through the door a split second before Rachel pulls it open.
"Santana!" The girl smiles widely in surprise and reaches out to hug her girlfriend.
The other girl pulls out of the hug quicker than she usually would and crosses her arms in front of her. "I – y'know, I can't stay long. My grandmother expects me to be working on my homework when she gets back. And she's only out to get some dessert."
"Did you leave a note? Whenever I go to your house, I leave a note for my dads so they know where I am." Rachel can't explain why she's nervous. Perhaps it has something to do with her girlfriend inexplicably jumping out of what should have been a nice hug. Whatever it is, it's got her nervous reflex going before she knows it.
"Remember when Daddy called the police because he thought someone came into the house and stole me? I was really in our treehouse but he didn't know it because I didn't leave a note. Do you remember that? It was a lot of fun up until the police showed up."
Santana blinks a few times at Rachel's obviously nervous babbling. She's known Rachel long enough to know she talks a lot when she's nervous.
Shaking her head, she says, "No, she doesn't know I'm here. And she's not going to, Rachel."
"Are you grounded?" Rachel's can't imagine what her girlfriend might have done to get herself in trouble. Sure, she had a bad habit of talking back; but, never to her family. That was just for teachers she didn't think were very smart or useful.
"No, I'm not grounded. I'm just supposed to be doing homework," she explains quickly. "And I just came over to tell you –" Santana takes a deep breath and looks down at her feet. "I can't do this - be your girlfriend - anymore."
Rachel blinks a few times and then crosses her arms low over her belly. She breathes out a soft, "oh" before looking down at the welcome mat Santana's standing on. "Did I do something wrong?"
Avoiding meeting Rachel's eyes, Santana says, "I just - I can't do it anymore, Rachel. I'm not, y'know." She shrugs before stating "I'm not gay."
"You can be with me and not be gay," the other girl suggests hopefully. "I don't care about what you call yourself. You know that."
"Well, I do." She purses her lips together and then frowns. "I've been feeling bad all day."
Not understanding where this is coming from – or why– Rachel tilts her head as though listening to a very soft sound. It's as though she's paying extra attention to figure out how they ended up here.
"Did someone say something to you?"
"Yeah, kinda." Santana swallows roughly. "Ever since this morning when – y'know, when you said that loved me, I've felt badly - guilty."
Rachel tightens her arms around herself and swallows roughly. "I can't take it back," she whispers. "I wouldn't want to, anyway."
She bites her bottom lip and raises her head to look at Santana. Her eyes are watery and a couple of tears have already made a path on her cheeks.
"You don't love me back, then?" she asks softly.
Santana's breath hitches when she spots a few tears running down Rachel's cheeks.
Even though this isn't what she wants to be doing, she knows it's something she has to do. She doesn't have a choice. If her grandmother found out what Rachel really meant to her, then she'd lose a part of her family. And if she lost her grandmother, who's to say she wouldn't lose the rest of her family, too?
Santana wordlessly answers with a firm shake of her head.
"Oh, because I thought," Rachel begins, but then pauses and shakes her head deciding not to make the other girl feel even more guilty. She can't blame Santana for not feeling something that's she's just not able to feel.
"It's okay," she finally says, nodding furiously and wiping the back of her hands across her cheeks. She puts her game face on as firmly as she can and says, "Thank you for being honest with me."
Holly whistles as she shakes her head. "That's," she blows out another breath, her head still shaking, "harsh. Wow."
She nods her head. "I know. I hated myself for it."
"Doesn't sound like she hated you, though." Holly sips her wine. "Let me guess, you did the friend thing after, right? That's what lesbians do, I've been told. I can't even stand to look at anyone I've slept with let alone try to be their friends ..." She takes another healthy drink.
"We didn't, actually." Santana frowns and also takes a sip of her wine. "The sleeping with each other thing or the friends thing. We didn't do either. I started dating this guy, Puck. I even joined the Glee club for him. She was kinda mad about that because she'd been bugging me to join before-"
"Wait - Puck? As in hockey?" Holly chuckles and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Let me guess, he had big ol' muscles and was everything your daddy - or Grandma - would have approved of."
Santana returns her friend's chuckle and shakes her head. "He had muscles, but Abuela certainly never approved of him. For starters, he was Jewish."
Holly sets her wine glass down as she laughs. "So, let me get this straight," she says, still laughing. "You went from dating a girl to dating a Jewish boy and you thought that would appease your super Catholic family? Oh, Santana ..." She leans back in her seat and smirks as she shakes her head.
Santana rolls her eyes playfully. "Yeah, I know. Not exactly my best plan."
"I so wish you would have told me all of this sooner."
She looks into her friend's eyes. "You know it wasn't because I didn't trust you, right?"
"No, I know your real motive," Holly says, giving her friend a teasing look. "You just wanted to make sure that my love life was the only one we could make fun of on Wine Night. Well, guess what?" She points at Santana. "It's open season now."
Santana looks down into her wine glass. "What am I going to do, Holly?" she asks with a sigh.
"About what, exactly?"
Santana takes a deep breath. "Okay, remember I said Rachel was just a friend? I mean, I wasn't lying. We're not together or anything like that. But ..."
"No." Holly shakes her head. "No. No, no no. Don't do that."
The other woman tilts her head and bites her lip. "Holly ..."
"Santana, who on this couch loves you and will always tell you the truth?"
"Well, considering you're the only one besides me on the couch ..." She chuckles nervously.
"Good call. And who has had enough failed relationships to be able to give good, sound advice about what not to do?"
Before Santana can answer, Holly holds up her hand and says, "I'll give you a hint."
She twists her hand and points to herself.
"What's your advice?"
"You're already thinking about what it'd be like to be with her, right?" Holly asks knowingly. "You've admitted who you are to yourself, you're feeling bolstered by the good vibes from your fans and you wanna jump right in and," she pauses to reach out and take her friend's hand, "and that's great. I mean it. It's amazing and I'm happy for you and blah blah blah I support you forever."
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. "But you don't even know Rachel anymore. She's not the girl you broke up with in high school. And even if she was, you're not the girl you were in high school."
She squeezes her friend's hand and says, "My advice is to be her friend. Don't get ahead of yourself."
"You're right. I know you are." Santana sighs, puts her wine glass down and rests her head on Holly's shoulder. "Have I ever told you that you're the best manager in the world?"
"Actually, no." Holly jokes. She pouts and looks at her friend expectantly, as though waiting for a formal announcement.
Santana rolls her eyes. "You're totally the best manager anyone could have. And a pretty awesome friend, too."
"And I love you, too." Holly looks around. "Now where did you hide my wine?"