As she stands at the door, I stand frozen on the steps just a few paces behind Mercedes. I don't think I could move another inch even if I tried. And it's not until this very moment that I realize I've been on autopilot this whole time. This whole time, I've been coasting and just kind of relying on muscle memory to get me through the day and sure, it's been working. I mean, it almost got me through a whole sleepover. But now, autopilot isn't good enough. Now, the plane has just been driven directly into the throes of a hurricane with whirlwinds and heavy rain and I have to take over and fly this thing for real. I'm in panic mode. Every light on the dashboard is telling me that I'm in danger and if I had any sense, I'd turn around and land now, before I crash and burn. Only I can't do that. I can't control the damn airplane.
Because I can't even move.
Mercedes says something to her, but I don't know what because I can't even hear. All I see is her lips moving, and in place of where her words should be, I hear the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Mercedes steps aside to invite her in and suddenly, everything stops. It's like the calm in the middle of the storm. The eye of the hurricane is passing over me now and everything has settled just enough to let me breathe. And listen.
"Sorry I'm dripping all over your floor," she says to Mercedes and her voice breaks at the same time her face does. She bursts into thick tears and all I can think about is how I'd walk through fire just to make them stop.
"You're...cool," Mercedes says back to her but the tone of her voice isn't all that reassuring. And all I can think about is how I'd be way more convincing if I were the one to comfort her. Mercedes looks at her like she's a creature from another planet and I want to just get ahold of myself and scream "they're just tears, you idiot! Hug her!" but I don't. I grab ahold of the railing to make sure I don't float away. "What's going on? Why're you all wet?"
"I walked here," I can hardly hear Rachel say over the sound of my own heart. "Finn dumped me," she chokes on a fresh round of tears. And all I can feel is my heart stopping right inside my chest. She eyeballs Santana coming from the kitchen and I want to tell Santana that I'll kill her with my bare hands if she says anything to make this worse, but I don't. I just squeeze the railing harder so I don't float away. "Please… please don't say I told you so," she struggles to hold back her sobs as she looks Santana in the eye.
She stands there with soaking wet strands of that chocolate brown hair dripping all down her back, and I can't help but think how fitting it was for it to have rained. It's almost like Rachel herself phoned the weather gods above and told them to make it rain as she walked the half mile to Mercedes' house. That's something that would only happen to drama queen Rachel. That kind of theatricality doesn't exist in anyone else's life.
Everyone wants to talk about why. Why Finn broke up with her, why she walked over here instead of asking her dads to drop her off, why she decided to come here of all places. They all want to talk about the why. Why why why. But what does it matter? The reason doesn't change the outcome. All that matters is that she ended up here with soaking wet clothes and tears so rich that you can still somehow tell the difference between them and the raindrops.
"You were just missing a game of truth or dare. We came down to get more snacks. Quinn'll help you get cleaned up," Mercedes says and motions towards me on the steps with her head. "She'll show you where everything's at and grab you some of my clothes."
She looks up at me and I swear, those eyes are the most beautiful shade of brown there ever was. Her eyes look at me like they're afraid, like they're beneath me and waiting for me, the evil queen to say "off with her head!" and that makes something inside of me just go completely dead. It's not that I don't think she has reason to look at me like that, because she does. I've never been anything but awful to her, so why shouldn't she fear me?
I want to run down these steps and wrap my arms around her, squeeze her and tell her that everything's okay while I make like Santana and Brittany and run my fingers through her hair so it doesn't tangle. But I don't. I just let go of the railing because I'm pretty sure I won't float away. And put on my best annoyed face. And my very best annoyed voice. And say:
"Hurry up."
The way she follows me up the steps with her head down starts to feel like the old Quinn and Rachel relationship, and it feels good long enough for us to climb the steps and get to the upstairs hallway without Santana or Brittany or Tina or Mercedes to think anything's different. They do what everybody does and chalk it up to the fact that Rachel and I just "don't get each other." Being annoyed with her feels good until it stops without warning, just as I'm about to show her to the bathroom and I'm left feeling all naked and exposed.
Nobody told me what it was going to be like to not hate Rachel all the time and it's an uncomfortable feeling. I don't know which feels worse, though. Should I ride this uncomfortable wave of not completely hating her and be nice? Or should I try to force myself back into that role of hating her, even when I feel like I don't anymore?
She stands outside of the bathroom door with her eyes locked down on the cream colored carpet and it's not until I get my own head on straight that I realize she's only standing outside because I'm blocking the door and she's too afraid to ask me to move. It feels like crap to have her so afraid of me like this. So much that I can't even believe that I used to love this. Her fearing me. Her being too nervous and too beneath me to even look me in the eye. There used to be a Quinn — and she's still inside of me somewhere — that relished in the very idea of Rachel bowing down to me. Now that she's in front of me and she's actually doing it… really, all it makes me want to do is slap myself silly.
"Towels and washcloths are in the cabinet beside the sink, turn and pull up on the lever to work the shower," I still mumble to her, but my mumble is in a much more pleasant tone and I can tell she noticed because she actually looks up. Then I step away from the bathroom door. "I'll find clothes that'll fit and leave them outside the door."
It's getting to be a little too much for me. I know Mercedes would probably prefer to be the one to go through her drawers and find clothes that she doesn't care about enough to let Rachel borrow, but I'll do it. I'll do it just so I can stop seeing those big brown eyes looking at me like she just lost her best friend. I'll do it just so I can resist every urge in my body that's telling me to hug her and put my lips against hers and tell her that I would never break her heart. I know that I'll never be able to do that. And that realization in itself sucks.
That realization is enough to make the tears prick my eyes. And enough to make me have to bite my lip as I walk to Mercedes' room and pray that maybe I'll have enough time to have a small crying fit before the rest of the girls come back upstairs. But then —
"Quinn, wait," Rachel's voice is soft, the way it travels up the hallway and makes me stop in my tracks. I turn around slowly, to make sure my cheeks have enough time to stop being red and my eyes have enough time to stop being so watery. "Could you stay? And wait for me? So I don't get lost?" she talks just barely above a whisper.
My first instinct is to say "of course! I'll wait right here and talk to you through the door so you don't get lonely! And maybe I'll hear you sing! Do you sing in the shower? Probably, huh? Your voice is like an angel's lullaby. Please sing me something!" but of course, I don't. I let the other Quinn — the one that's inside of me beating down the box I shoved her in — out. And somehow, both of the Quinns decide not to fight each other today. Both of the Quinns meet each other in the middle and work together enough for me to say:
"This is what you get for ditching your girls to hang out with a stupid boy."
She winces at my words, but takes them in with a very slight nod. Then, she clears her throat and messes with the droopy wet fabric of her fancy-shmancy purple blouse. "I thought you thought Finn was one of the good ones," her eyes meet mine for just a split second before she looks down again. "That's want you always told me."
Caught. Busted. Red handed.
"Well…" I start, just hoping that somehow Old Quinn can come out and fix this. "He's still a boy and boys are stupid." Decent, but not great. Old Quinn could have done better than that.
Rachel accepts this, which is enough to make me breathe again, then opens the bathroom door and goes inside. And the only thing I'm thinking is that it just shouldn't be this hard. Interacting with Rachel shouldn't be as hard as it is and I really, really wish it wasn't. Honestly, it's just exhausting. Having to think after every word she says, having to process everything and calculate a response before I give it just to make sure she thinks that I still hate her and nothing more. It's the most mentally exhausting thing and I don't want it to be. Not anymore. I wish this came more naturally to me. I wish it didn't matter whether she thinks I hate her or not. I wish she could know that I like her, that I really like her and me treating her accordingly wouldn't be such a big… thing. But it is and it's exhausting and I just don't know how much longer I can do this.
"Rachel," I catch her just before she closes the bathroom door. She opens it back up so she can see me. "I'll be
outside after I get clothes for you."
It's funny how a couple hours ago, I was sitting on Mercedes' bed with her, Tina, Santana and Brittany and I was secretly miserable because I wished Rachel were here. I was watching Santana lace her fingers through Brittany's hair and I was jealous because I wanted to be doing the same thing to Rachel. I was laughing at the funny stories Tina told about the things Mike's parents would do but I was actually dying on the inside because I knew that tonight was going to be spent just wishing Rachel and I had whatever Santana and Brittany had.
I was staring at two girls, obviously in love with each other but only flaunting it in privacy and I was jealous of that. I was wishing I had what they had because I guess a secret relationship that nobody knows about except for the people you trust most in the world is better than no relationship at all. I was at a sleepover with some of my favorite people on this planet, and I was miserable because the one person I wanted to be there most in this world wasn't.
How the tables have turned.
It's not the fact that we're halfway through our second large pizza and collectively chugged eighteen cans of Mountain Dew between all of us that's making me jittery. Nor is it the fact that I've eaten maybe sixteen Oreos by myself. It's not even the fact that we're all sitting in a circle, facing each other and revealing our darkest secrets right now.
What's making me jittery is the fact that I can't stop thinking about how beautiful she looks. I found an old yellow t-shirt in Mercedes' drawer for her to wear, and a pair of old running shorts. Of course, Mercedes' clothes are a little big for her, but the way everything just hangs off of her body and nothing clings to her skin is what's driving me crazy. Her hair dried in a sort of wavy kind of way and she hasn't ran a brush through it so it's just sitting there, wavy and natural and I just want to touch it. Her legs are pulled into her chest and she rests her chin on her kneecaps, still chewing a piece of pepperoni and she has a little bit of grease on her lips but I can't tell her to wipe it off because then she'd know that I've been spending the last ten minutes staring at her lips.
I keep sneaking glances across the circle and sooner or later, Santana is going to figure me out. Tina and Mercedes probably wouldn't notice. I know for sure Brittany wouldn't. But Santana would. Santana would call me out on the fact that I've spent this whole "circle of trust" game just staring at Rachel and she might even expose me to everyone.
Just a couple hours ago, I was contemplating telling everyone in this room that I could possibly very probably actually maybe kind of sort of thinking that I might be...gay. But now, that seems like the scariest thing in the world.
I wanted her here so badly at first. But now I wish she was gone. Hanging out with Finn again.
"It's like for the first time literally ever," Santana is speaking but she's not really looking at anybody. Her face is blank and she's staring across the circle. "They can break my heart. And I'm actually scared." The great thing about this circle of trust game thing that Tina suggested is that none of us are really judging and we all kind of get it and forget about it after their turn is up. It's kind of unspoken.
We'll never breathe a word outside of this room about Mercedes being afraid that nobody wants to date her because of her weight. And we'll never talk about the way Tina cried a couple minutes ago when she told us she just doesn't feel like she belongs anywhere. We all hugged Britt at the beginning of this circle when she told us she was afraid she'll never graduate, but we moved on from that. And after Santana finishes crying about how she's in love with someone that could break her heart, we'll all support her and know that she's talking about Brittany, but we'll never say.
We're all silent and respectful, letting Santana wipe her tears away and act like they never existed, but we're not silent for too long. We just move right along into the next person and it sounds horrible, but that's how it works. We don't dwell too long on anyone's problems and that's why we all feel so open, I think.
"Rachel," Mercedes says. Usually Santana would call the next person since it was just her turn, but she's still gathering herself. "You next."
I look at the three slices of pizza left and pretend to be very interested in the way the cheese is melted over top of the pepperoni and the way the cheese is falling out of the stuffed crust. I guess I'm glad she didn't pick me to follow up after Santana's forbidden love story with my own forbidden love story, but I still don't know if I'm ready to hear anything Rachel says. Especially when I know she's probably going to talk about Finn.
"Um," Rachel puts her legs down and sits like the rest of us, with her legs folded. Jessica called that an "open body" position. It supposedly suggests that she's "ready to listen and be heard." Maybe it's not all bull crap after all. "Well… Finn," she starts.
Finn, Finn, Finn. That's all you ever talk about. Who cares about Finn?
"He broke up with me tonight. Everything was fine at the movies. Then he drove me home after the movies and just…," her voice cracks, and Tina hands her a paper towel for a tissue. "And instead of going inside to face my dads and tell them that I was just totally humiliated… I walked here." She wipes her face with the paper towel but I didn't see any tears. "And for a while, I totally forgot about what just happened to me tonight."
Everyone smiles except me. I want to smile, I do. I just don't want anyone to think that maybe there's a reason behind my smile…
"I've never been to one of these. A slumber party," she continues. "Not even in elementary. I was never invited to any of these. And we're about to graduate in a year. I've been thinking about all the things I just… missed out on. Because I'm not popular or… or pretty." Yes, yes you are. You're beautiful. How do you not see that? "Anyway, thank you guys. For not making me miss out on the sleepover experience."
How have you never been to a slumber party? Wasn't that like, everyone's birthday party in third grade? I wasn't pretty or popular either. I was fat and gross and just awful but I still got invited. Granted, every slumber party Lucy went to, she called Mom and went home crying because the other girls were complete jerks and just needed someone to take the brunt of their fat jokes. But still… I was invited…
"Quinn," Rachel clears her throat from being all choked up and I didn't know how much I love hearing her say my name until this moment. I look up from my pizza haven and meet her eyes. "It's your turn."
"Mhm," I nod my head and I guess they think I'm thinking because I'm being so quiet but really… I just can't believe she's never been to a slumber party.
Well… she's got the whole eat a hundred slices of pizza experience. And the gorge yourself on junk food until you want to puke; she ate like twenty Twinkies herself. It's early enough for her to get the makeover experience. And maybe before she falls asleep, she'll experience the "prank the first person who falls asleep" thing. She got the deep conversation and secret sharing experience from circle of trust. But you know what experience she didn't get from this slumber party? What experience she didn't get? Not yet…
They're expecting me to come back with some big extravagant secret. I could probably tell them about my summer in Pennsylvania, I think that's what Mercedes is expecting me to say with the way she's looking at me. I could tell them about Lucy and how she was two-hundred pounds with braces and acne and had to leave the sleepovers early because everyone was mean. I could even tell them about why Mom took every scale out of the house back in ninth grade and how I think I'm starting to have that problem again since I ate so much pizza and know I have to get rid of it once everyone falls asleep. I could even let them in on how I hate Dad, about all the nights I had to go sleep with Franny because their bedroom was right next to mine and I'd hate to hear Mom crying all night. Or maybe I can tell them how much I miss Beth, about how much I wish I wouldn't have given her up. And how much I hate Puck because of some things that Jessica and the girl in group named Emily made me realize about him and me.
I could tell them a bunch of things about me. I don't know which one is more juicy than the other. Or which one would make me cry less. But right now, I'm thinking about Rachel. And what would make her happy.
So I break the circle, stand up and say, "I have an idea."
Everyone just kind of stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language and that's okay. They'll catch on and get into it after I do what it is I'm doing. They probably know that this is somewhat of a deflection technique, something I'm doing just so I don't have to embarrass myself during this circle, but who cares. I mean yeah, it's deflection because I really don't want to share. But it's also for a good cause. I swear.
"Guys, Rachel's never been to a sleepover before." I tell them, and grab my phone from the mound of pillows on the bed.
"Yeah, and? What's that have to do with anything?" Santana asks. "I just cried my eyes out to you and if you think you're getting out of this —"
"She's never been to a sleepover before. Don't you know what that means?" I shove the auxiliary cord from Mercedes' iHome into my phone's port. "She's never done the whole… jumping on beds, blasting music… screaming girl tunes…" I scroll through my phone for the perfect song… and as soon as I see it, it's like everything clicks and I know it's perfect.
As soon as the song starts, Mercedes, Tina and Brittany all realize that my idea is genius. They're the first three to stand up. And I don't know why, but it's like the power of music blasting so loud the neighbors could probably file a noise complaint makes me feel… brave. Like I can do anything with these girls.
I'm lip syncing like an idiot, but I don't care. I go over to Rachel, still sitting, and hold my hands out to her. And I know everyone could get the wrong idea from this, but why do I care if they do? Who cares if anyone thinks I have a crush on Rachel right now? Who cares if anyone sees anything more than a girl trying to get another girl to dance and sing old Britney Spears songs with her so she doesn't feel like she completely missed out on her childhood?
She takes my hands and lets me pull her up and before I know it, she's singing right along with me except she's not lip syncing. She's actually singing and I didn't think it was possible, but she sounds horrible and I think she's doing it on purpose because that's all part of the experience.
Santana is a tough nut to crack, but all it takes is Brittany pulling out her ponytail and swinging her hair around like a mad woman to get her up and on her feet and by the time the chorus rolls around, Santana is jumping and dancing and screaming right along with us. And we sound horrible. But we don't care. We all sing in horrible unison.
"YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY! I JUST CAN'T SLEEP! I'M SO EXCITED, I'M IN TOO DEEP. OH, CRAZY! BUT IT FEELS ALRIGHT! BABY THINKING OF YOU KEEPS ME UP ALL NIGHT!"
It's strange how I feel like the universe just stopped. And for these few moments in time, this is all that there is and all that they'll ever be. I feel comfortable. At ease. Wholesome. Like the only cure in the world for everything I was feeling is right here in this room with these girls. Nothing else matters. I ate so much pizza with the thought that I'd get rid of it, but that's okay. It can stay. I won't throw it up. And I think that maybe… just maybe… I can beat this whole thing.
It's a feeling that I carry with me. All the way over to my phone to pick a new girly song that we can flop around to and sing horribly since (You Drive Me) Crazy is coming to an end. It's a feeling that doesn't stop and doesn't go away.
Not even when I open up my phone to a Facebook notification that says Shelby Corcoran sent you a friend request!
