Chapter 9
Susan Elisabeth Smith Pierce had a mission in life: taking care of her family.
The woman, the beginning of time, was created to accompany her man and love him and care for him and support him in every way and create with him a respectful and worthy of God's blessing progeny to raise, educate and look after. It was this notion that, in addition to the name, the women of her family had passed down to her from generation to generation. From time immemorial, to every first-born female of the family was given her mother's name as a middle name, and with it all the weight of a tradition to be respected and transmitted over time. Because taking care of another human being, or more than one, is a task of enormous complexity and it is why God has given this assignment to the woman because only a woman understands the needs of those who loves, sees organizes and regulates for the needs and welfare of the entire family. And her own needs? A mother and a wife must set aside her own needs. It takes a lot of patience and tenacity and sacrifice to keep up a family.
Susan peeled the last potato and dropped it in the salad bowl full of water lying in the pit of the sink, where already other potatoes were waiting to be cut. She wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing, the black one with white polka dots, the one Bentley had given her after a trip to Seville and that much looked like a flamenco dress, as she moved to the stove and, uncovering a pot, plunged a spoon in the sauce that was boiling and took a little, tasting it.
"Hmm, perfect!"
She picked up a knife from the silverware drawer and went back to the sink and began to cut the just peeled potatoes into small cubes. She smiled. Susan loved to prepare Sunday lunch, Sunday was a special day, her whole family gathered at her house for lunch. And especially this Sunday. Her little girl was missing from home for two weeks, two long weeks, and the thought of seeing her again made her sigh with contentment. She looked at her watch. Bentley had definitely already left for the airport to get her back. The trip to Polynesia had been her idea, her child really deserved it after graduating from medical school with honors. She would soon become a pediatrician. Not like Brittany that at 33 years old was still pretending to work. Because being a clown in a hospital is not a real job. It's not a job that a mother should do anyway. Susan shook her head cutting off the last potato. Then she took a baking pan, sprinkled the bottom with olive oil and laid there the potato cubes. She added salt, pepper, chopped rosemary and breadcrumbs and mixed everything and then put the pan in the oven. Then she went to the refrigerator and took the chicken she had previously spiced and laid it on another baking pan and placed it in the oven, too. She set the temperature and turned off the cooker where the meat sauce had already finished cooking. Then she removed her apron, and hung it beside the towel and walked into the bedroom to get ready to go to mass.
Susan Elisabeth Smith Pierce thought that her firstborn daughter Brittany was really unconventional. After all, they all had come to Italy for her, so that she could start over, reflect on the mistakes and bad choices she had made in her teens, to be able to reborn stronger and more mature from those, so that she could forget about the frivolous life she had spent and could finally become the woman that God and her family were expecting. But what she had done? She had gone to Rome to be an actress and a dancer which were respectable professions, but a mother has to make choices and must choose their children and family first. If it were not for Susan, that poor kid who knows how he would be grown! She took off her nightgown she still wore, it was not a sensible thing to cook in the same clothes in which you slept, but one exception to the rule every now and then could not hurt her and for sure that night she would worn a clean one. She threw the nightgown on the chair next to the window thinking that after the bath she would have to do the laundry. She headed for the bathroom and opened the shower. Susan smiled as she waited for the water to heat up and took off her underwear. Bryan was a so wonderful boy. Certainly not because of his mother. Bryan was so similar but so different from Brittany, he was calm, he was sensitive and artistic with a big heart, and he was very clever and excelled in everything he did. Bryan was Brittany's copy turned out well.
She entered into the shower and a few seconds later Joel Pierce walked into the bathroom.
"Joel, my dear, I prepared clothes for you, they are on the bed in the our room."
"Thank you Susan." Joel muttered as he washed his face.
"Oh, and then I said to Ettore you'll go to him to take some eggs after mass."
"Ok." He said, his voice hidden from the towel.
"Did you go wake Bryan up?"
"Why should I?" Said Joel coldly while spreading on his face the shaving cream, even though he knew perfectly well what speech his wife was about to begin.
"Last night your daughter brought him wander about Florence and I don't know what time they came back home..."
"Don't you know?" Joel knew that Susan always checked that Brittany's car was parked in front of her house and when there wasn't, the night, she stayed awake and stand up continuously to control when her daughter came back.
"Yes, I know, they came back at 2 in the morning, do you realize? How can a mother keep awake a little boy who is not yet 14 until 2 in the morning?"
"I don't see what the problem is, he was with his mother after all. The worse will be when he'll start to go out alone with his friends!"
"Don't even let me think about this! Brittany will let him for sure go around with his friends very soon." There was a moment of silence. The shower water was flowing and the blade was rubbing on Joel's face's skin. Joel thought about Brittany. When she was little, every time he shaved, she sat on the toilet with her elbows on her knees and her face resting on her hands to look at him. She looked at him without saying a word and as soon as he finished she ran away without saying a word. Her daughter's mind was full of fantasies and dreams as a child, and even now it wasn't that different.
"Do you think Brittany has woken him?"
"But why are you so worried, Susan? Your daughter has taught your grandson to take care of himself, he'll be in church for the entrance song as always!"
"Why am I so worried? Because a mother should support her son, always be near him. How many times she has come to church to hear him sing? None. And why not? For all those strange ideas she has in mind. How does she say? "
"That she feels hypocritical, since she does not agree..."
"Oh yeah, hypocritical! How hypocritical it would be to come once to church to hear her son sing? A mother would convert herself into a saint for her son, but not her! She has always to put herself first."
"You know perfectly well it's not so. Bryan is her entire life."
"Is he? So why it's a whole week, that she barely comes home in the evening? Bryan told me that she not even prepared him breakfast in the last days. And yesterday morning Bryan went to school with Eleonora and you know why? Because Friday night Brittany was not home. I know that, I heard the car leave! And she didn't come back! I had to call Bryan the afternoon because she was not back yet and didn't answer the phone and I was really worried. And where do you think she went, huh? If Bryan was her entire life she wouldn't go out alone at night, leaving him alone at home! A mother doesn't do this!"
"Susan ... your daughter's young and has every right to have a private life, if that's what you're implying!" Joel knew that among the many things about Brittany that angered Susan, one that most get her mad was that she had never been able to control her. Brittany had always been so elusive and independent and free.
"Brittany can do what she wants, she always did what she wanted, but she shouldn't hurt Bryan. Do you know that Bryan is my priority... after you, of course!"
Joel sighed and nodded when Susan came out of the shower. He knew, of course he knew. He knew well what were his wife's priorities. Susan had developed over time her own way to catalog her priorities and to distribute her care and attention to the members of her family in a sort of hierarchy of the most successful relative. In the first place was Joel, Susan lived for him! In second place was Bryan, then was Bianca. Bianca was the perfect daughter, the one of three children that had met all her parents expectations: she was brilliant, intelligent, studious, attentive to family and tradition, she had never done anything that shamed Susan and Joel, and she always did everything the right way. Next was Bentley. Bentley was a winemaker, he worked for a large wine company that exported wine all over the world and although he was not a graduate, he was a hard worker and didn't have many absurd ideas in his head, he was home and family and work and nothing else. Bentley's children ranged between fifth and sixth place, but they were still too young and too dependent on their mother to have a definite place in the rankings, they still had to be educated, David was 9 years old and Samantha 7, but they were growing well, they both attended church. Valeria, Bentley's wife, was in seventh place. Susan didn't like her particularly, in her opinion Valeria didn't take enough care of Bentley, not as she would have done, but she was a good woman and she was an employee of the municipal administration. Brittany was in last place. Brittany was just Brittany. And she was smart enough to not let anyone manage her life. She did it only once, when their parents had brought her to Italy. At that moment she didn't know what to do.
"I'm going to get dressed!"
Susan left the bathroom and angrily slammed the door behind her. Joel sighed again and kept on shaving.
She was so small in her arms. And she was shaking like an earthquake. And she held her. And pressed her lips on her neck, while her tears wetted her skin. There was a little girl running on a beach. The little girl was lost and scared. Brittany ran after her, she was in front of her, she had a white dress and dark skin, and long black hair swaying on her shoulders every time a foot rested on the sand. Brittany couldn't see her face but she heard her crying and Brittany's heart broke every time she heard one of her sobs. The beach was crowded, there were people sitting, some lying down, others standing. There were umbrellas and towels and the little girl ran, in the crowd and Brittany chased her and reached for her because she had to stop her, she had to take her in her arms and bring her back to her parents. No. Bring her home. But the crowd swallowed her and then vomit her again and drank her and spat her. And then the girl stopped. All of a sudden. And Brittany stopped. All of a sudden. And the little girl turned and Brittany dropped to her knees and the little girl ran up to her and clasped her arms around her neck and buried her head in her hair crying. "Don't leave me ever again Britt" the girl whispered and "Save me" and "Take me home." Santana was so small in her arms. And she was shaking like an earthquake. And she held her. And pressed her lips on her neck, while her tears wetted her skin.
Brittany opened her eyes. Her bedroom was dimly lit by the light coming through the closed shutters. It was Sunday morning and there was no need to wake up, not yet. She closed her eyes and smiled. Santana smelled like silk and clouds. The little girl was sitting in her lap and smiled and braided her hair. Brittany's heart was so light. Santana. Anna. Because life changes in an instant, it mess up itself in just a moment. No fireworks, no music rising to a crescendo of suspense, no lights which lower to announce the change. Just a second, just a dimple appearing in a child face. Or a pair of black eyes. The little girl looked at her and chuckled and Brittany knew without a shadow of a doubt that the little girl was her destiny, her name was Anna or Santana or had both names. The fate always finds a way to put things right and now Brittany seemed that all the pieces were in the right place, that she was finally in the right place.
Brittany opened her eyes again, clinging to her pillow, she smiled and was… happy? She could use that word? Because she had never felt so. Never in her life she had felt so full, so complete. All the pieces in the right place.
Her stomach growled and her smile became even bigger. Bryan. She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone and dialed her son's number. She knew by heart all the phone numbers of family and friends, it was much easier to memorize them than having to look in the phone book. She could scream, but being Bryan's room on the other side of the house, Brittany knew that if Bryan was asleep he couldn't hear her. She waited a few rings before Bryan answered and when he did, he had a voice that could very well be one of Buffy demons'.
"No Ma..." Bryan said firm and Brittany was invaded by a sense of well-being and sweetness.
"No cosa Bry?" ("No what, Bry?") She asked, turning around and leaving the pillow.
"No qualsiasi cosa tu abbia intenzione di chiedermi! Sto ancora dormendo e tra poco devo andare a messa!" ("No, whatever you are going to ask me! I'm still asleep and soon I have to go to church!")
"Bryan..." Brittany moaned because her son took compassion on her.
"Ma, what do you want?"
"Coffee!"
"No!"
"Pretty please my love..."
"No!"
"Pleasssssse!" Brittany begged him. "I am warm under the covers and it would be great if my beautiful, intelligent, beautiful, talented, only son would take me a coffee in bed and something to eat and stopped to have breakfast with me. You still have a lot of time before you go to church and you're talking to me, so you're awake! Come on! So we can be a bit together."
"Mamma (Mom) we hang out last night together!"
"Yes, of course, with you and Eleonora sat in the fourth row at the cinema and Luciana and I at the top! And I will never believe that the choice of tickets was random, you choose them so far away to be alone!"
"Not for the reason you're implying!"
Brittany giggled with one hand pressed over her mouth not to be heard.
"And then you and Ele have never removed your eyes from the phone while we were at dinner and you laughed among you without involving your mothers..."
"Ma, it is not true!"
"And then you fell asleep in the ride home!"
Bryan grunted and Brittany laughed victorious, again without being heard by her son: Bryan felt guilty and Brittany had earned a breakfast in bed. When she spoke it was with a whiny voice and sad, she was an actress after all!
"The fact is that we have never been together yesterday night ... so ... coffee?"
"Ok!" Whispered Bryan exasperated and closed the conversation.
Brittany waited under the covers. It was Sunday morning. Her son was making breakfast that soon they would have eaten together in bed. Today her sister would come back from the trip to Polynesia. It was a really good day. Ok, it wasn't just that, it was the vivid memory of the dream in which she woke up, but it was right thinking about it? Dreaming of them yes, it was right, but think about them? Think about Anna. Think about Santana. The little girl was fine, Brittany had explicitly asked the nurses on duty the day before to warn her if anything happened. Santana. She had spent a night holding her in her arms and the following day she had hugged her and felt her breath in her skin. Santana. Brittany smiled as her heart increased the speed of its beats. It didn't seem real. Santana had not hit her, or insulted her, she had not yelled at her for a full day, it seemed almost impossible and probably it didn't mean anything, maybe it was just the desperation of the moment that made her act that way, but there was hope that maybe now Santana would listen to her and Brittany perhaps could explain her choice and maybe...
"Perhaps it would be better to stop daydreaming!" she said to herself but failing to chase away the smile from her face. Unconsciously she raised her right hand fingers to her lips and held it there for a few moments: her fingers still remembered vividly what had touched the previous day and Brittany couldn't help but be full of hope and full of happiness because fate had brought Santana back to her and there had to be a reason, things never happen by chance and yes, they now had two separate lives thousands of miles apart, but the day before Santana had entrusted herself to her, she had let herself go just with her and with no one else in her own family, and there had to be a reason. She and Santana were made to be together, she was convinced of this, she had always been convinced, and there was nothing strange, it was that way. Simple.
"I'm coming!"
Brittany wanted to cry at how she felt good that morning. "Come in!" she said to her son, and went out from under the covers leaning her back to the headboard. "I'm ready!"
Bryan poked his head into the room and when he saw that his mother was seated and ready to eat breakfast and smiling, he came in and slowly walked over to her. She didn't move, she looked at him smiling, with hands stretched towards him to receive the tray. "Okay ..." said Bryan leaving the tray to her mother who still had not stopped smiling.
"You're very happy this morning? What happened?" Bryan looked at her doubtfully. "Are you hiding something under the covers? Are you by chance thinking up some joke?" Because Bryan didn't like pranks, not at all, he didn't like surprises, he fit with difficulty to news and changes. Bryan was routine and steady and very very rational.
"Oh shut up BoringBoy, and come here!"
Bryan glanced reproachfully to her mother but did what she had asked. Brittany adored her son, but sometimes she would have liked he was a little more like her, instinctive, passionate.
"How can you be my son?" She asked him joking and ruffling his hair.
"Stop Ma!" He tried to rebel against her mother but deep down liking the gesture of affection. For Bryan all this was so difficult sometimes. There were times he wanted to cut those her hands when she hugged him or touched him to fix his clothes, or when she approached his cheek to kiss him, or when she sat on the kitchen table with her chin resting on her hand and looked at him with loving eyes and smiled. Or like this morning, when she made him feel guilty for not spending more time with her. What right did she have to make him feel guilty? How could a mother can make their child feel guilty? And then never once she had given him advice or told him what to do. He had always had to do all by himself. She was exasperating. She had always been, but now she was really unbearable. He was no longer a child and above all she was no longer a child, for a long time now. Why she couldn't behave like all his friends mothers? Why she couldn't have a normal job and a normal life? His mother had to be a bit more like his grandmother, to be much less at work and much more in the kitchen. Humoring her had really pissed him off. But then there were times when he so needed her. He needed to feel her close, to feel the warmth of her touch and her giggle, he needed her reassuring blue eyes watching over him. Her mother was exceptional and he would never bartered her with no ordinary mother of this world. She always knew how to make him laugh and was eager for art like him. She had given meaning to the word freedom, teaching him to take care of himself. She had always urged him to fight for his dreams, never give up. His mother danced and when she did the world disappeared because there was nothing like her. His grandmother to the comparison was only a disillusioned middle-aged little woman too scared of life. Why did he feel all those feelings, so different and distant from each other? Why was it so hard to keep them all together? His aunt Bianca one day had told him "We all have been teenagers!" So maybe it was a normal thing to feel so many extremes. Maybe everyone feel this way once in a lifetime. Maybe growing up, this turmoil goes away?
"Or maybe a unicorn really brought you to me!"
"Mamma (Mom), I didn't believe this story even when I was 4!"
"But I love the idea of you coming down from a rainbow riding a unicorn!"
Bryan muttered refraining from saying what he had in mind. After all it would have been too easy to hurt his mother. Because the words he had in mind was something like "No Brittany, you hate the idea of being pregnant with a boy you didn't love." Because Bryan was not a child and he was not stupid and although his mother told him stories about how she and his father loved each other and they also pretended to marry, he knew that the love that linked them, was not THAT love, the one that makes you lose your head. And Bryan knew he was born by accident, even if no one had ever told him that and everyone had always made sure to romanticize his birth. But the story of his father forced to move to Arizona to help his parents who had serious financial problems and that of his mother forced to move to Italy to follow her dream to become a professional dancer, in the same year in which she got pregnant, it didn't stand up. And why Bryan didn't know anything about his father until he was five? And his father had not known anything about him for so long after his birth? There was even a time he had believed that Roy was his real father. And then there was always that Great American Love, three words he had heard many times out of his mother's mouth when he was younger and she talked with Bianca or Roy or Luciana, when everybody thought he wasn't listening, they had no name, but he knew well that they didn't bore his father's name. Sometimes he hated everyone: his mother, his father, his grandparents, his aunt and uncle. Why were they not honest with him? Was it so hard to tell the truth? Sometimes he seemed to live in a giant bubble of things unsaid and half-spoken sentences, from what ever everyone was protecting him? Besides, was he sure he wanted to know it?
Bryan shook off the negative thoughts that were lashing out at him and sat down on the bed closer to his mother.
"I'd like you to meet Anna." Brittany said aloud, though she was not sure she did it intentionally, it was just a thought.
"Chi è?" ("Who is she?")
Brittany felt herself blush and lowered her head on her chest letting her hair covered up her cheeks.
"None, the little girl who have been operated yesterday."
"Your 'friends' daughter?" Bryan emphasized the word friends imitating the quotation marks with his fingers. Brittany nodded.
"Why?" Bryan asked.
Brittany shrugged, smiling, "I don't know, she believes in unicorns and fairies and she probably would convert you ... she is very persuasive."
Bryan smiled, "Maybe when I come to the hospital for rehearsals I can go to see her?"
Brittany looked up at her son and smiled. "Yeah! It's a fantastic idea!"
Brittany had not thought about that. It was December and like every year there was the Christmas show to organize, and like every year Bryan was going to play in it. But this year, Anna and Santana were in the hospital and maybe she could have them meet and... today was really a good day!
They had breakfast laughing and chatting about the film they saw the previous evening and Brittany didn't fail to tease him about his relationship with Eleonora and then they talked about music as always. His mother was weird that morning, she had been really weird for a few days. Since that night when she had cried in his arms and had fallen asleep on the couch. They no longer had talked about that episode except with sporadic hints of conversations, but Brittany seemed to avoid every time the speech. Or she answered by giving the minimum and essential information. Bryan, however, felt there was something weird about her, something that was boiling inside her and he still couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad thing, her mother's mood had changed so many times in recent days.
"What are you thinking Bry?"
"Niente, vado a vestirmi. Pulisci te!" ("Nothing, I'm going to get dressed. You clean!") Bryan ordered pointing to his mother and looking at his watch. At that moment the church bells rang in the room. "Vedi! Mi hai fatto fare tardi!" ("See! Because of you I'm late!")
"Non sei in ritardo!" ("You're not late!") Brittany said as she stood up from the bed, collecting everything they had left over from breakfast.
"Perchè non vieni anche te stamani?" ("Why do not you come this morning?") Bryan suggested his mother as he did every week. Every Sunday Bryan played and sang in the church choir, he was a practitioner, but he really didn't care that his mother was not an active believer or practicing Catholic and he didn't even care that she didn't come to Mass to hear him sing, he knew that she, most of the time, stood on the steps outside the church to listen to him. But her grandmother didn't fail every Sunday to point out to him his mother's absence and he just couldn't stand this!
"Bryan ..."
"Lo so, lo so, non c'è bisogno che me lo rispieghi!" ("I know, I know, you don't need to explain it again!")
Bryan knew Brittany didn't agree with many things preached by the church, and for this reason she didn't go to mass; she couldn't stand the bigotry of some people and the hypocrisy of others. She couldn't just go to church to hear her son singing it wasn't right, it wasn't loyal. Bryan sighed leaving the room. His mother was right.
Brittany looked at her son go out of her room and sighed. But her phone rang and she turned her thoughts from her son.
"Pronto?" ("Hello?")
"Guess who just landed at the airport in Florence?"
"Bianca!"
"Right answer!"
"Hey lil sis, how was the trip?"
"Boring! Listen, do you know why Bentley is not waiting for us at the exit? "
"Why don't you call him?"
"I tried but the phone's off ..."
"He forgot to charge it again?"
"I guess..."
"Probably there was traffic on the highway, and he didn't find parking lot and is now looking for a scapegoat to blame!"
"Hey wait, I see him, he's waving us to hurry up ... what do you say? I go to him or pretend I didn't see him?"
"Hurry to come back!"
"Ok, I go to him, bye big sis, see you later!"
"Mmhm, how nice my little sister at home!"
Brittany hung up but a second later the phone rang again.
"We are all at lunch at mom and dad's today, right?"
"I don't know, Bryan didn't tell me anything!"
"Bryan? What? You fought with Mom? Don't you talk to her? "
"No no, it's just that this week I haven't been very much at home."
"Oh, okay, then I decide, we all have lunch together. See you later! "
"Ok. Bye!"
Brittany went down to the kitchen and put the tray with the breakfast things on the table. In that instant, the other three family members came like clockwork. Lord Tubbington III took over the kitchen table and started to meow knowing it was time for breakfast for him too. Immediately after Artemisia followed him and began to wander around on the table and they rubbed each other moaning and waiting for Brittany to give them something to eat. And last came Miss Clarice Orsini, the puppy of the house with just 10 months of age who avoided the effort to climb on the table and sat down at Brittany's foot looking at her with sleepy eyes.
"Buongiorno a tutti!" ("Good morning to everyone!") Brittany greeted all of them with stroking and kisses and prepared their bowls with food laying them on the kitchen floor. She looked out the window. The sky was white, since a couple of days the weather was threatening to snow. Brittany smiled and went to get dressed. It was not long before Bianca and Bentley come back and the Mass ended and the family gathered at house Pierce's table.
Bianca had the monopoly of the conversation, her graduation gift was widely appreciated. It had been widely appreciated by her boyfriend too, Giacomo, who had benefited very willingly. Bianca did nothing but talk about the sea and sun and surreal landscapes and Susan looked at her charmed and in love and Brittany couldn't help but feel a bit of nostalgia. Her mother had once looked at her like that but when she became a teenager everything had changed, her mother look of adoration had turned into incomprehension and then anger and then resignation.
"So Bianca, why don't you tell your sister how nice is to finally be able to say you're a graduated and finally you've a place in the world!"
That was how were family gatherings: Bianca has reached this target and Bentley did this wonderful work and Bryan helped me in this and Bianca here, and Bentley there and "See Brittany?" And "You could do it too Brittany" and "If just you were that good"
Brittany was accustomed to all this stuff, when they were alone her mom was not so bad, they talked and joked and never felt on trial. But when there was Bryan, Susan tried to demean her in all possible ways. She had always done that, Susan had always believed that Bryan had grown so well thanks to her exclusively. She exorcised with him her failure as a mother. Because thinking about Brittany she felt a mother who had done all wrong, but then she looked at Bryan and thought that if her daughter had a so wonderful son, then maybe she had not so completely failed.
"Mom, Brittany also has her place in the world!" Bianca replied.
And again started the same old story, Susan attacked Brittany rattling off the list of her eldest daughter's flaws, Bianca defended Brittany, Bryan isolated himself playing with the phone to prevent someone asked him to take side and keeping under control the anger towards his grandmother's aggressiveness and his mother's passivity, Joel turned his attention to the television, the children started to moan pulling Valeria to the right and left, Giacomo lowered his head embarrassed, and Bentley eventually drew his mother's attention asking her if there was dessert and all that ended up laughing at the table and enjoying Susan's dessert. Always the same old story. Every Sunday. Since years.
Brittany got up from the table and sat down on the sofa. After all she didn't care anymore what her mother said to her. Gone were the days when her parents' advice was the only thing that mattered to her. Brittany had earned sweating a life she loved and it was the only thing that really mattered.
David and Samantha wasted no time to catch up with her and they engaged a pillow war, but soon they got tired and ran to their grandfather and Brittany sat taking refuge in her thoughts, while at the table the conversation had slipped on the excessive tax burden the government was subjecting Italian citizenship. Brittany felt the urgent need to contact Santana, in any manner and by any means. Maybe she should call her, or maybe text her. She wanted to know how she was and also how was Anna. She picked up the phone, turned it over in her hands and then put it in the pocket of her jeans. Maybe she shouldn't contact her. Maybe she could call Roy to get news, but maybe not. Maybe not even that was appropriate, however, she could call him, pretend nothing, ask him about his Sunday, and then eventually ask him about Anna and Santana. She needed to hear her, to see her. And what if Santana needed her? She felt a strange frenzy, she felt as if her place, at that time, was not around that table, or in her parents' home, but it was somewhere else, with Santana, with Anna, they needed her. Or maybe not, maybe it was all a thought in her head.
"Hey Bry!" Bianca drew attention to her nephew who was showing his cousin David a game on his phone. Bryan moaned but didn't look up to her aunt.
"Bry I'm talking to you!" Bianca said again approaching the nephew.
"What do you want Auntie!" the two cousins said in unison and Bianca threw a playful slap in both head to get their attention and confiscated Bryan's cell touching off a ground swell of opposition.
"What did your mother?"
Bryan shrugged, "Why?"
"I don't know, she seems thoughtful and then happy... I do not know, she's weird, don't you think?"
"Ah I don't know she have been that way all week! She laughs, then cries, then I call and doesn't respond and she seems to be in another world ... who knows, maybe she's in love!" Bryan said, and a grimace of disgust followed his words and David imitated and exaggerated it with a fake retching.
Bianca laughed and ruffled her nephew's hair giving him back the phone and the two cousins resumed to play. She thought of Bryan's words and watched her sister sat apart from the rest of the family on the couch. She saw her smile and shake her head. And she watched her eyes.
When she got home she had seen those eyes immediately. They glittered and sparkled and Bianca couldn't understand what was different, but at that moment she was assailed by memories. She had seen those eyes before. That particular light, that tender depth. She had seen that look drunk by thoughts. But she couldn't remember when Brittany had been so happy. Maybe Bryan was right. Maybe Brittany was in love.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The rhythmic sound of Anna's heart, amplified by the monitor, was relaxing. It was regular and strong and Santana that way knew exactly what was going on inside her child's chest, she didn't need to get up constantly to check if the heart had stopped or if Anna was still breathing, there was that regular and perpetual sound attesting her daughter's life. It was Tuesday. Anna was left for 24 hours in the recovery room and Santana hadn't moved from there for no reason. She had been there all day Saturday after surgery with the fear of rejection, she had spent there Sunday feeling that fear slowly decreased, she had spent there Monday finally sleeping with that sound lulling her. And that morning Anna had been transferred into her room and Santana was still there, next to her: Anna's heart was beating and it was the most wonderful thing Santana had ever heard in her entire life.
In those two and a half days many people had passed through those rooms: Finn, her parents, Rachel, Kurt, Quinn, Blain, Karen, all heartened by that sound, by that slow beeping that never stopped but grew louder and louder and when Anna woke up it was fast and strong and the fear that it break again slowly faded away. But the others were only shadows, in those days just her and Anna existed.
Marco had come a bit before 6 am that morning and had taken Anna and transferred her to her room. Santana was aware that this meant that the girl was okay, that she was so fine that in a few days she could sit and then restart walking and then run and dance too, but this also meant that soon the doctors would off the monitor and Santana would no longer hear the sound of her heart.
"Hi Mami!" Anna woke up and Santana didn't hold the tears and let them ran while the smile on her face got bigger.
"Buenos diàs mi vida!" She said, approaching her. "¿Cómo estás?" ("How are you?")
"Me duele un poquito aquí" ("It hurts a little bit here") Anna touched the wound covered by gauze and Santana moved quickly grabbing her hand and bringing it to her lips. She kissed it and smiled.
"Lo siento…" ("I'm sorry ...") Santana said and Anna smiled at her because she didn't want her mami was worried and she didn't want to see her cry anymore. She reached with small fingers a tear on Santana's cheek and dried it.
"Estoy bien mami. ¿Cuándo puedo sentar? " ("I'm fine mom. When can I sit up?") The girl's voice was weak but full of life.
"No sé cariño, seguro en los próximos días, esperamos que el Dr. Roy nos da la bien..." ("I don't know darling, for sure in the coming days, we have to wait that Dr. Roy give us the ok...")
"Y luego voy a caminar también?" ("And then I could also walk?")
"Por supuesto, mi niña!" ("Of course my child!")
And then Anna looked at the door behind Santana and she stopped and smiled and Santana saw Brittany in Anna's eyes. Before she heard her come in, before she heard her speak, before she heard the monitor increase in speed the beep of Anna's heart, she had seen in her daughter's eyes the same look that the girl had Saturday before the surgery, the same look Santana had when she was little and watched her best friend. A look of admiration and love and dedication.
"Doc Brie!" Anna whispered and Santana turned around. Brittany.
Brittany stood for a moment in the doorway, without entering and enjoying the feeling of having Anna and Santana true and real in front of her. She had thought of them all weekend, she had dreamed them, she had desired them, and now they were real and it didn't even seem possible. She smiled. The previous day they hadn't let her in the recovery room. She stayed out in the hallway to spy on them from the window glass. She had met Kurt who had suggested her not to meet Santana for a few days because she wasn't in the right mood to hold a conversation and Brittany had stayed looking at them for a few more minutes and then she had left with anxiety and a sense of unfinished in the stomach. Santana didn't want to see anyone. Okay, Brittany understood. But this morning she couldn't hold back and, okay, she didn't have to go in that room for a visit, but it was her job to go into patient rooms and Anna was a patient and therefore, if she did her job she could go to Anna and that's why she had convinced Mauro they could give a taste of the Christmas show to that little girl. Just to rehearse. Rarely people denied her something. She was lucky.
When Brittany came into the room she was bright. The first thing Santana saw was the red bowler hat over the blonde's head from which came two braids that hung down over her shoulders. She wasn't wearing the white coat, but she had a black and white striped shirt and a pair of baggy black pants that tightened on her ankles and left to see a pair of black dance shoes. White gloves covered her hands. Her whole body was smiling: her eyes, her half-closed mouth, her hands, the pose of her torso. Santana had never seen any other in her whole life light up as Brittany did every time she performed. It was as if a bomb of energetic happiness exploded in her every muscle. Then Santana heard the music: notes played by a diatonic accordion. It was a French flavor mazurka.
"Doc Brie, I thought you had forgotten me!"
Brittany covered her mouth with both hands closing inside a silent and amazed "o" and shook her head vigorously stepping forward and letting the musician in, he was one of the other fake doctors who roamed the hospital. He was wearing a black tight dance suit that showed off his big belly, he had a red bowler hat and was playing an old diatonic Beltuna.
Anna laughed seeing the man enter. He was funny and very potbellied! Anna couldn't do a lot of movement because something in her chest was pulling and pushing and prevented her from moving. Certainly nurses had given her a painkiller because she didn't feel that much pain. Doc Brie took her hands away from her mouth and her smile reappeared. She walked over to Santana and stopped in front of her and bowed and then, remaining bent, she lifted her head and greeted the woman by moving her fingers to the right of her face. Anna saw her mom smile and return Doc Brie's greeting who went back upright and turned her body toward the bed but her head was pasted on Santana. She really liked her mami! She couldn't take her eyes off her. Anna laughed.
Santana had Brittany's eyes everywhere and when the blonde grabbed her chin and forced her head to turn toward Anna, she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't realize that someone else had entered the room, her attention was on the little show that was taking place inside the room and on Anna who smiled and giggled flattered by the attentions of the mime and didn't look sick at all.
Brittany stroked an invisible cat jumped in Anna's bed and scratched under his chin, the cat then went to lick her face and then Brittany taught Anna how to feed him. She also tried with Santana but she shook her head in disgust hinting that cats didn't suit her very much. Brittany didn't use words or sounds, just her body spoke and also Anna and Santana had lost their speech. There was silence and music and it looked like a silent film. Brittany bent her legs pretending to sit down and opened an imaginary newspaper and began to read, and then burst into a silent laugh and when Anna moved a little her head to peer at the newspaper Brittany folded it toward her hiding it to the child curiosity and throwing her a defiant look. Then she resumed to read the newspaper and laughed again and Anna tried again to look at it, as if there was a real newspaper with the most hilarious thing of this world in it. Then Brittany got up and, after closing the newspaper, reached for Anna with her palm facing the ceiling and bent her fingers several times as if she wanted something in return. Anna looked at Brittany's hand "I have nothing..." she said afflicted but Brittany nodded quickly and looked hopefully at the girl who seemed more confused.
Every time she did her mime show Brittany loved when kids looked for something in their mind they could give her in return, she saw their eyes move to the side trying to find something that was worth enough to let them live a little bit of that magic: many pulled out of their pocket fake coins they dropped on her hand, others gave her parts of their body, there had been a child who had even given his voice. Someone gave Brittany anything they had in hand, she had once received a pacifier, another the straw of a fruit juice. Brittany was expecting something special from Anna and her expectations were not disappointed. The little girl's eyes widened when the right idea reached her head: she pulled one arm out from under the covers and brought her hand to her mouth, she kissed her hand and then placed it on Brittany' fingers and smiled. The woman felt her heart tighten and her cheeks turned red. She grabbed her and kissed the back of her hand, like a real gentleman, also doing a half bow to thank her and finally let Anna read the newspaper and the two laughed together to the strange news of the day. Brittany heard the music was about to end and she had to do it, she had to go to Santana one more time, she wanted to give a gift to her too, because it was easier to play with her during a show rather than in reality. So she opened her right hand to Anna as to tell her to wait a moment and turned to Santana. Behind the woman's shoulders, standing, there was that girl, the ghost. She didn't want her there, that was her show, and it was dedicated only to Anna and Santana, and instead the eyes of that girl looked at her again with curiosity and indignation. But she took a deep breath and knelt in front of Santana and picked up a flower on the floor, dusted it off and handed it to the woman. Santana looked at her but she had stopped smiling, no emotion transpired from her face. Then she shook her head. Brittany had imagined that Santana wouldn't have played with her, but didn't loose heart, she approached Santana still kneeling, so that her hips leaned on the woman's knees and then leaned slightly over to her, with her white hand reached her black hair and moved them behind her ear, then again took the flower in hand, smelled it and put it in Santana's hair, behind her ear.
Santana stood there all the time, Brittany was so close to her and she felt her with four of her sense organs and there was too much Brittany in that room, there was always too much Brittany whenever she appeared, there was too much yellow and too much pink, there was too much smell, and too much skin and too many laughs and too many hands and too much serenity, and too much tenderness. And Santana couldn't stand that every time Brittany came, she invaded everything like a virus. Anna clapped. As soon as Brittany pretended to place the fake flower in her hair, Anna burst into a weak applause and said "You're beautiful Mami!" And Brittany poses in front of her a frame, this time it wasn't mimed, but a real wood frame pulled out of nowhere and invited Santana to look at herself. Santana looked inside the frame, but what she saw was Brittany, on the other side, who smiled and Santana couldn't help herself, she tried, she strove, but the smile on her lips exploded imitating the blonde's one and then Santana lowered her head to hide to herself, rather than the others in the room, that Brittany was making her feel good.
The music slowed and Brittany knew that they were the final chords. She was so happy. She had made both mother and daughter smile and she was so happy. There were no other words. She thanked Santana standing up and rising her hat in reverence, then turned back to Anna without looking at the ghost and bowed to her too while the diatonic stretched its last note.
Anna started clapping and Santana did the same, but when she heard a third person scan every clap in an exaggerated way, she turned, and seeing Karen, her smile faded.
"Bravo! Doc Brie!" Anna said and Santana looked at her daughter, she would have faced Karen at another time.
"But your face is not white! You're not wearing makeup like a mime!"
Brittany looked with a scared face at her companion, who returned the same expression and then fumbled in her pants pockets and pulled out a jar of color. She opened it and, with a finger, she picked the color and instead of putting on makeup, she approached the finger to Anna and drew a star on her forehead.
"What have you drawn?"
Brittany took the little girl's hand, she picked some more color and drew the same star in the back of her little hand.
"Thank you!" Said Anna then asked her, "Now can you speak?"
Brittany nodded.
"Why didn't you come in the last days? I thought you won't come back again!" Anna asked almost whimpering and the pot-bellied mime took off his bowler hat, bowed and spoke ,"I greet you and thank you my ladies and I leave you to your women talk!"
Brittany grabbed the man's hand "A round of applause to Mirò the musician mime!"
All four applauded while the mime Mirò left the room.
When the man went out, Brittany sat on Anna's bed, turning her back on Santana and the ghost. She didn't want to see them together, these two. She didn't know who that girl was, but her instincts told her that it was better not to see them together.
"How are you, young lady?"
"I'm fine. Why didn't you come?" Anna was determined.
"I couldn't come up in the recovery room. But I came and I saw you, I saw you from the glass."
"I don't believe you!"
Brittany laughed "I don't tell lies..." she said and heard Santana get up from the chair. She heard her pants swishing and the chair creak and the ghost talk, "Hey, good morning baby!" Brittany sighed and went back to Anna.
"I came yesterday morning and saw that you were applauding Sara and her magic tricks! Isn't it?"
"So you really came?"
"Sure," Brittany said affectionately hitting the tip of her nose.
"You can stay here a little?"
"Sure. Give me your hand that I remove the star!"
"No, I don't want!" Anna whimpered.
Brittany took off her gloves and the bowler hat and laid them on the bed, then took a few wipes on Anna's bedside table, and grabbed her by the hand. "Dr. Roy's order! This morning he forbade me to use color on me and on you, I said ok and I promised not to paint my face and make just a little drawing on yours: to be removed immediately! Do you know how are doctors? Always worried that something could happen. Once Dr. Roy filled my mouth with aspirins when I sneezed in a show and I had to stay home for two days because he was afraid I had some dangerous disease for patients here. And he told me that the color might infect the wound and big words like this!" Meanwhile, Brittany had removed all the color from Anna's hand and forehead and Anna wondered how that woman could be so distracting!
"But if you want I can make you a drawing on a sheet of paper, what do you say?"
"Yessss!" Anna replied excited, and Brittany got out of bed to fetch paper and pencils from the desk, but when she stood up and turned around she couldn't move. On that desk was the ghost sitting, and surrounded by her legs was Santana, and the ghost with one hand was stroking her back: small and light movements slowed down and ran up along Santana's spine, and with the other hand she caressed her cheek and ear just where Brittany had placed her flower before. Santana was steady, she didn't return the caresses, she had her hands clasped on the wood of the desk and her head was straight, but seemed to be lost in the heat of that affection. Brittany couldn't see her eyes, but she imagined them closed. And then the ghost put her lips on Santana's ear and whispered something looking at Brittany, straight in the eye and smiled and then kissed the point where the ear meets the cheek and stayed there with her lips on her skin always looking at Brittany until the ghost moved her mouth towards the center of Santana's face and Brittany looked down. Her heart was shaking, or maybe she was shaking all over, completely. Anger. Frustration. Pain. She couldn't, she shouldn't be jealous. Santana haven't been hers for a long time now. She was not supposed to feel this way. Betrayed. Disappointed. Yet she felt it, she felt the blood inflame her face, she felt tears roll down her throat. A feeling of nausea disturbed her stomach. She wanted her. Brittany wanted Santana. She wanted her all to herself. She wanted to be hers, to give her that pleasure. She wanted to go to that ghost and remove those hands from Santana's body. She turned and swallowed.
Anna was confused, she looked at Brittany and didn't understand why she had not taken pencils and paper to draw.
"I'm sorry..." Brittany whispered and looked at the little girl. "I have to go."
"No..." Anna almost cried that 'no'. Brittany told her she could stay and draw for her. Why now suddenly she had to go away? "Don't go..." the little girl said and Brittany wanted to be strong, stronger, but she couldn't stay, that room was too small and it was too cold and she couldn't see or hear or imagine Santana give herself to someone and she had to go.
"I'm sorry ..." she said again and heard movement behind her and felt someone approaching and Brittany closed her eyes and turned and walked toward the door. She ran out. She closed the door behind her. She kept walking.
She didn't hear the door reopened or Santana trying to get her attention. She turned to the right and slipped into the bathroom in the hallway and then she heard her.
"Hey!" Santana scolded entering with fury behind her in the bathroom and slamming the door shut. She grabbed her wrist and forced her to turn toward her, letting that contact as soon as Brittany was in front of her.
"What are you doing?" Santana saw Brittany's red face, and saw Brittany shudder.
"I don't know Santana, I don't know ..."
"My little girl has just undergone heart surgery and what the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, I couldn't stay in that room, forgive me, I ..."
"You promised her you would stay ..."
"... I know ..."
"No, you don't! She just had a heart surgery and you want to break her heart right away?"
"... No, I ..."
"Shut up! You can do anything to me, you can break me, yell at me, hurt me, but not her!"
"I'm sorry, I ..." Brittany looked down and saw that her hands were jolting.
"It hasn't been enough to hurt me? She is everything I have and if you hurt her I swear I'll spoil you! I don't know how, but I'll find a way to do it!"
"Santana" Brittany shouted because no, she didn't want to hurt Anna, but no, she couldn't tell her why she left the room.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Santana leave me alone, please..." Brittany begged her, because she let lose the talk and came out of that room.
"Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you!" Brittany shook her head and ran her trembling hands through her hair.
"Hey!" Santana urged again.
"I'm not going to hurt her, it was not because of her if I went out..." Brittany said, trying to look at the woman who stood before her, but failing miserably.
"Then why did you leave? Why did you leave like that?"
Anger. Frustration. Pain. This time she looked at her. Straight in the eye.
"I couldn't stand that woman's hands on you." she said all in one breath and Santana took a step back shocked. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect to react like that, I'm sorry, I couldn't breath, I know, I have no right, I..."
"That's it, you have no right! You had your chance in the past and you fucked up, now what do you want? What do you expect? That I leaves everything and throw me in your arms? That I forget the last fifteen years, and send to hell all my life to be with you? But who do you think you are? Where were you when I graduated? Huh? Where were you when I broke my foot falling down the stairs? Or the first time I performed with my band? Or when I got pregnant? Where were you when Anna was born? And when she got sick? Where were you? You were not there, you've never been, there were other people and now what do you want? Huh? What the fuck do you want?"
Brittany didn't answer, but stood still, a few inches away from Santana, watching her intently, looking inside her and it was then that she realized she didn't know the woman who stood before her, she knew nothing of her life and she realized that Santana had suffered, had suffered so much and not only because of her and she felt a sense of emptiness and deep sadness because it was true, Brittany wasn't there while life flowed, while days and faces and stories and emotions passed. I'm sorry. She wanted to say, but it was not enough, there were no words to erase fifteen years of absence.
Santana looked at her and knew she had to go away now, because if she didn't leave the bathroom immediately, she would slammed Brittany against the wall because she was so passive, so helpless, so fragile and again, that need to hurt her invaded Santana completely. She was angry, furious about that June morning when she woke up alone in her bed, and about every morning that followed, and nights and days, and the pain had eaten her inside until almost stripping her soul. And she was angry because Brittany was doing the same thing with her daughter and she couldn't allow this.
"I'd like to learn about you..." Brittany whispered.
"Shut up!" Santana ordered her harshly.
"Talk to me..." and this time her gaze fell on Santana's mouth, that half-open mouth that was supposed to utter words, but which at that time was trembling slightly. Brittany wanted to talk, she wanted to tell her why she had left, she wanted to know everything about her. She wanted her again. She wanted her back.
"Shut up!" Santana repeated, but she sounded less firm, almost desperate, taking a threatening step forward but actually shortening the distance that separated her from the blonde.
Brittany closed her eyes and swallowed the vision of that mouth. She wanted to kiss her, she wanted to kiss away the tension from Santana's body, from her own. And when she opened her eyes she found Santana's again, black and unfathomable.
"I think I should go now..." Santana said. She was losing control. Brittany was driving her crazy. She could no longer understand what she was feeling.
"I think you should kiss me now…" Brittany said and understood what she had asked for only when Santana's eyes widened and darted crazy over every inch of her face. She saw thousands of thoughts running in Santana's mind and she knew that here there was no turning back.
Kissing Brittany. Kiss her. Kiss her? That woman was really asking her the most intimate expression of affection? It was true what she had heard? The first kiss. The kiss in Sylvester's office. The kisses safely hidden in their rooms. The stolen kisses leaning against the piano in the choir room. The kiss in front of her parents. The Valentine's Day kiss. The kiss in front of the whole school after Nationals. The goodbye kiss. The Last Kiss. Every kiss had a different flavor, a different emotion with Brittany.
"Santana..." Brittany moaned to get the woman's attention and Santana lost her mind. She grabbed Brittany's shoulders and threw her hard against the wall.
"What the fuck do you want from me?"
"Kiss me San..." Brittany said, and she spoke with a shy whisper aware that a kiss could hurt Santana even more than she already was and that in the north hallway was her daughter to recover from a heart surgery and a woman who was Santana's woman. But she couldn't help it. She wanted her.
"You have no right to ask me that!"
"I know, I just..." Brittany blushed and closed her eyes. Santana's hands pushed her against the wall, heavy and strong, and when she opened her eyes she opened them to the room avoiding looking in front of her, Santana. She was ashamed, she thought about what Santana was seeing now and felt ashamed, but at the same time she was proud of herself because she wanted to kiss her from the first moment she saw her come through the door of Anna's room one week before.
Santana was so close to her and saw Brittany, she saw the pout that was forming on her lips, she saw her shoulders shaking, her eyes full of desire and need. Brittany was so vulnerable and fragile as a thin sheet of glass. And the lust struck Santana with the fury of a tsunami: it came from her lower abdomen and with concentric waves made tremble every inch of her body to the deepest part of herself and to the more rational part. She could have done anything at that moment to the woman who stood before her and Brittany would let her do, but she wasn't going to kiss her, she wasn't going to give her this satisfaction, she had to maintain control and she knew that if she had touched her lips she would have lost any willpower.
"Please San..."
Brittany prayed Santana as her abuela prayed God in a silent Act of Contrition, it seemed Brittany's eyes were screaming "…yo me arrepiento de todos los pecados que he cometido hasta hoy, y me pesa de todo corazón…" ("... I repent of all the sins I have committed so far, and I regret with all my heart ...") and it seemed that her hands narrow into fists crushed against the aseptic bathroom wall was crying "…propongo firmemente no volver a pecar y confío en que por tu infinita misericordia, me has de conceder el perdón de mis culpas…" ("...firmly resolve not to sin anymore and trust that by your infinite mercy, you have to grant the forgiveness of my sins..."). When Santana moved she was surprise because she didn't want to do it rationally but her body seemed to have its own needs and wishes that mind couldn't control.
She grabbed Brittany's hand with her left while the right made room under the woman's shirt and her fingers touched her skin "…y me has de llevar a la vida eterna…" ("... And you have to give me eternal life...").
"Santana..." Brittany breathed as each abdominal muscle reacted by contracting and trembling for the electricity from that contact. Her breathing became spasmodic, her eyes closed and she arched, pulling her lower back off the wall and banging her head on that wall. Her body was waiting for those fingers for fifteen years.
Santana watched her squirm and shake and she felt pretty darn powerful because only with the tips of her hands in her stomach she had been able to give her all that pleasure and if she wanted she could take her to the top, to the stars. But it wasn't about that right now, it wasn't about Brittany, it was about boundaries and Santana was deeply determined to establish those boundaries, once and for all, which were valid until the end of her journey.
"You have no right to ask me this. You left me, you run away from me. You made me believe you loved me and you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me and then you disappeared! You have no right. Understand? You have to stop, you know? Stop to ask me, stop begging me, stop wanting anything from me. You made your choices and I owe you nothing! I owe you nothing, understand?"
And then Santana slid her hand higher up in the valley between Brittany's breasts and then again in her belly and then she fight against the fabric of her bra and win her breasts and caress it and tighten it.
"God San..." Brittany sighed already breathless: those hands on her, they were fire, and burned with an immense and unexpected pleasure. It was better than all that her skin had ever felt in her whole life. It was like going back and erase the past because it was as if she had never felt those hands. And when Santana put her lips to her collarbone and they moved to her neck, her legs began to tremble. That hand and those lips they were everywhere, she felt them everywhere, and they were not even more lips and skin, they were the space and planets and the sun and the Milky Way, and her body was an asteroid, into the unlimited. And Brittany sank her free hand in Santana's hair, grabbed her head desperately, squeezed it and scratched it because she had to hold on to something to not float away, to not get lost completely. To not lose her.
Santana threw out all the air in her lungs and leaned completely to Brittany when she felt the tip of her breast ask for more. She was losing control, she felt the dizziness of fall while Brittany opened up completely to her and Santana knew exactly at that time that that body, those scents, those eyes belonged to her again. Brittany was hers. Yesterday, now and forever.
"Please San, please kiss me..."
Brittany begged again, bowing her head towards Santana's face and brushing Santana's cheek with her lips and Santana immediately removed her lips from Brittany's neck, her hand on her breast fled and she moved away from the blonde's body. No no no no! Brittany's mind screamed, she wanted her again on her, and she pulled Santana towards her using the hand that was still clinging to her head, but Santana put up resistance and grabbed that hand and slammed it on the wall above the blonde's head. All the warmth she had felt in the instant before, vanished when Santana made her eyes open wide.
"I told you not to beg me, understand?"
Brittany looked into her eyes, they were a cold night without stars. She looked down and tried to pull away from the wall. Santana's hands gripped hers and it hurt. She wouldn't have had that kiss. She wouldn't have had back her Santana even for a moment. But Santana tightened even more and forced her to remain attached to the wall and pressed on her wrists and looked at her and Brittany didn't understand what they were doing now. It was nothing she knew, it wasn't love, it wasn't remembrance, it wasn't passion, it wasn't violence, it was something that had to do with pain and lack and vengeance. There was a sense of revenge in Santana's gestures almost as if she was punishing Brittany for leaving her and making her suffer.
And then there were those eyes, cold and emotionless, and those wide open pupils and Brittany couldn't see, after all these years she couldn't see inside her anymore and she knew that deep down there was something alike her Santana, but she couldn't read it, she couldn't read her. She tried, she stared her and studied her, but this woman full of rage was not Santana, it was someone else, and Brittany was afraid she had created her.
"Do you understand?"
Brittany nodded and tried again to free herself, she no longer wanted to continue whatever they were doing. But before she could move she felt Santana pull her right hand off the wall and brought it down and slid it between their bodies, lower and lower over their breasts and still farther down the stomachs covered by clothes and more down up to the waistband of her sweatpants and guided her inside and Brittany really didn't want it, she knew she had to resist what was about to happen, she knew she didn't have to do it, but she couldn't react, her hand slipped into Santana's pants, and when she found the elastic band of her underwear she slipped there too, and went on sliding and then. She touched Santana. She clenched her eyes again and slammed her head on the wall slightly once. And when Santana forced Brittany to cup her hand over her sex she slammed it again and when Santana guided her fingers across her lips and Brittany felt the heat of her sex and found the softness of her flesh and her fingers got wet of Santana, she slammed her head again and again and again and again and then shook it to try to deny to herself that feeling, but a moan came from her throat at the same time when Santana moaned to the feeling of her fingers on herself. This wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't right what they were doing, what Santana was doing. She just wanted a kiss. Brittany took possession of her mind and tried to pull her hand out from Santana, but Santana squeezed her wrist and forced her to stay where she was. She forced her to move back and forth while her hips moved at that pace.
Santana moved Brittany's motionless hand in where she liked and felt her. She felt Brittany was not cooperating, she was not helping, but she had to go on, she had to finish, even if she wonted to cry, she had to make it clear that she was her, and her only, who dictated the rules, because she had been abandoned and Brittany owed it to her, she owed her everything she wanted and now she wanted her. She wanted those fingers inside her and out and in and out and in again. She wanted to ease the pain in her chest and to which she had not yet given a name. She wanted Brittany, she wanted her to make her feel good, she wanted what was rightfully. She moved her leg between Brittany's and began to move rubbing exactly where she remembered the blonde wouldn't resist for long.
Brittany's stomach tightened and an urgent desire to throw up scraped her throat and nose when Santana began to move on her. It was not what she wanted. She just wanted to kiss her, to hold her and readjust to her body, her warmth, her love. All this was too cold, it was too beastly. Her wrist ached but eventually she perked up and pushed two fingers inside Santana, if that was what she wanted she would have given it to her. She would have given her everything. Her legs were hurting but eventually she bent them to meet Santana's thigh: if that was what her body wanted she would have given it. But she zeroed her mind, she stopped thinking as she had learned to do many years before and a feeling of emptiness hit her. She could hear Santana's moans and groans, she felt her shaking as the pleasure grew. She felt her own pleasure heat her more and more and when she exploded she did it silently. And while she was still moving spasmodically on Santana's thigh trying to calm her heart, she opened her eyes and looked at her. In the world there was no woman more beautiful than her. Even now, with her face wrinkled and concentrated in achieving her pleasure, in the aggressiveness of that gesture with no tenderness, no love, no nothing, even now she was so beautiful. There was a moment when she saw her Santana, a brief moment when Santana narrowed her eyes and looked at her and froze and the next moment her whole body began to tremble.
Santana left both Brittany's hands and threw hers against the wall on either side of Brittany's face leaning all her weight on her palms, keeping her head down and her forehead touching Brittany's chest.
"Oh God... God..." she whispered because only God could understand what her body had felt. She raised her head and looked into her eyes. Brittany was sad, heartbreaking sad. What had she done? Brittany didn't say anything, didn't move, but she had dull eyes and her hand was still inside her. They stayed that way. For an indefinite time. Just looking at each other. Just breathing. Until Brittany slipped off her fingers, and Santana felt her own eyes roll and get lost in her thoughts and her pleasure. Someone knocked on the door and Santana panicked and took a step back moving away from the other woman who still didn't react, she looked at her with those eyes full of sadness without saying anything.
"Yes," Santana replied.
"You're in the bathroom?" Karen's voice came as a cold shower. "There's Dr. Patrice in the room. He wants to talk to you."
A/N
Dear readers a few things:
1. Sorry for the mistakes. I realize I have problems with the tenses of verbs, so really forgive me!
2. Finn issue: I thought a lot and I came to the conclusion that in this parallel world no one has gone and Finn is still alive and smiling and good-natured as ever.
3. I saw that there are some Italian readers. If you want the Italian version of the story ... chiedete e avrete! For sure you will find fewer errors ...
4. The music of the little show in Anna's room is "L'Inconnu de Limoise" if you want to hear it played by a diatonic accordion Beltuna search on you tube "craigus 69 l'incunnu de Limoise"
5. Thank you so much to all for reading me.