"What was that?" Santana asked with a stern face after a couple of minutes since Marley left.
"What?" Brittany asked innocently as she settled the bouquet Marley gave on the table beside her bed.
Santana scoffed. "You don't know? When Marley came, you totally left me out, like I wasn't here." She folded her arms across her chest and looked away.
"Santana, I know you don't like Marley but you don't have to think that way," Brittany defended.
"What should I think then? I know you like Marley," Santana accused.
"Yes I like her… as a friend, nothing more. Santana, she's nice." Brittany felt as if she was defending herself against her jealous wife but she knew it was impossible. Santana just really hated Marley.
"Just because she gave you flowers that means she's nice? If I will give you thousands of flowers, will that make me nice then?" Santana looked directly into Brittany's eyes.
"You will not do that." Brittany didn't flinch.
"What made you so sure?" Santana challenged.
"Because that's disobeying rule number five," Brittany stated as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Really? So it means you're giving only one person – Marley- the opportunity of giving you flowers?" Santana's eyebrow furrowed.
"No. Katy can give me flowers. Madison and Tina too," Brittany defended.
"So I'm the only one who isn't allowed?" The girl's eyebrows now rose.
"Of course not! Santana, what's your point here?" Brittany felt helpless as she threw her hands in the air. It seemed like whatever she would say Santana would retort. There was nowhere to run.
"I don't know! I… I-I don't like you getting close to Marley!" Santana's voice cracked.
"Santana, are you… are you jealous?" Brittany asked, almost scared to say the J-word.
Santana looked disbelievingly at her. "Me? Jealous? Of course not. I just don't like you getting close to Marley because that will make quite a fuss to Mom. You know Mom has eyes and ears all over the place."
Brittany slowly nodded as she looked at the trash bin beside her bed that was filled with cottons with blood, probably from her nose. "Okay… sorry."
"Just don't get too committed to her… come on let's go home." Santana stood up and grabbed the girl's wrist.
"Easy. My head still hurts." Brittany complained as she stood beside Santana, slightly unstable.
"Fuck…" Santana hissed before facing her back to Brittany, knees slightly bent to lower herself. "Get on my back."
"S-Santana, you don't have to do that," Brittany stuttered as she held her head.
"I sai- … what's rule number two?"
"Don't make Santana repeat herself," Brittany said unwillingly.
"Now get on!"
Brittany shook her head, feeling defeated, before hopping onto Santana's back. Santana made a 'hup!' sound as she stood straight and started walking out of the room, leaving the bouquet of flowers in the table. None of them even remembered about it.
The white hallway was lifeless that it gave Santana chills but she somehow felt comfortable with Brittany on her back, good thing that she was light. She felt guilty and sorry after yelling at Brittany but she just needed to get that out from her chest. It's been bothering her since Marley came and she couldn't believe herself that she used her own mother as an excuse. For a second, she thought about what Brittany has said. Was she jealous? If that's the best word to describe it, then she was. But the question still was why? She doesn't know and she was uncomfortable with it.
Brittany stared straight to the floor over Santana's shoulder. She couldn't think straight because Santana's scent was alluring to her consciousness. She wanted to reach home fast, but Santana's slow pace was making it impossible. It was as if she was taking a second before taking another step. Brittany thought maybe Santana was enjoying it and she was walking slowly for a purpose but she didn't entertain that idea. Why? If only Brittany knew, she also wanted to go home fast and drop Brittany off as fast as possible.
Maybe it was the high heels. That must be it, Brittany thought as she looked at Santana's feet.
"Stop breathing on my neck," Santana pulled Brittany out of her thoughts.
Brittany blushed. "Sorry." She rested her nose bridge on Santana's left shoulder instead, head ducked.
The walk was taking slower than Santana intended. She doesn't know why she was walking slowly and it's making her uncomfortable, not to mention Brittany's smooth thighs in her grip. Since the argument with Brittany earlier, everything suddenly felt uncomfortable. Or maybe it's just because it's that time of the year again.
"Contact Mr. Smythe. Tell him to fetch us now," Santana said just to say something and kill the awkward atmosphere.
"Okay." Brittany reached her right wrist to her left hand, locking Santana's neck in her right arm.
"I can't breathe," Santana complained.
"Just a minute," Brittany said and started pressing some buttons on her wristwatch.
"Miss Brittany?" Mr. Smythe's voice came out of the small speaker on the side of the wristwatch.
"Mr. Smythe, could you please fetch us now?" Santana felt a shiver go up her spine when Brittany's breath hit her neck. She flinched a bit, oblivious to Brittany.
"Yes, Miss. I'll be there in a minute." And the call ended. Brittany loosened her arm around Santana's neck and their awkward atmosphere resumed.
Brittany looked to her right, surprised that their faces were extremely close. She observed Santana's left side profile and her multiple ear piercings caught her eyes because it was shining from the fluorescent lights. It was irritating in the eyes but she didn't fail to notice how red Santana's ears are.
"Santana?" Brittany called, breath hitting the back of Santana's ear.
"Hmm?" Santana hummed as she kept her eyes straight ahead, afraid that if she would turn her head to the left, she would meet face to face Brittany.
"Your ears are red. Are yo-"
"Don't talk when it's not important," Santana cut her. Why do you keep on breathing on my sensitive spots?
"Sorry." Brittany ducked her head again, nose bridge to Santana's shoulder.
Santana looked straight and restrained herself from thinking too much about Brittany's breathing on her neck and the girl's thighs in her hands. She felt relieved when they neared the building's automatic door. She stepped on the sensors and it opened, letting the December breeze hit Santana's face. She shivered but still thankful for the warmth on her back, Brittany's body heat.
Not far away she saw Mr. Smythe and she walked faster to his direction, eager for the heat inside their car. Brittany, sensing the accelerating pace, looked up and realized that they were almost close to Mr. Smythe and the sky was already turning dark.
Santana slowly put Brittany down.
"That was fast." Brittany tried to pull her coat around herself and realized that she was still in her jersey. She would have laughed at herself for being such a fool but she didn't.
Mr. Smythe winked at Brittany. "I told you. I'll be here in a minute."
He opened the door for the two to get in and closed it before jogging back to the driver's seat.
Santana rubbed her arms to ease the coldness though she was already changed back in her winter uniform and the car's heater was high. She looked at her right, through the tinted window, and realized that they were airborne. The city lights below them, most colors were blue, red and green, seemed to bother her. It was that time of the year again. Christmas. And she hated it.
"What happened to Miss Brittany's forehead?" Mr. Smythe asked as he looked at them through the rear view mirror.
"She was hit by a ball," Santana answered as she glanced to her left where Brittany was sitting, rubbing her arms to ease the cold.
Mr. Meek snickered. "A nice experience to end the semester, before going to a Christmas vacation, don't you think?" He spoke as if Brittany wasn't there.
Santana looked into the rear view mirror and met Mr. Smythe's eyes. He was doing it again albeit he has been failing since the past couple of years. Since he became Santana's personal butler, he has tried so many times to cheer the girl every Christmas but still failed. Christmas just really downed Santana's mood.
"Yeah." Brittany replied shortly, signaling Mr. Smythe that she doesn't like what he's doing, before looking out through the window again.
Mr. Smythe looked straight and focused on driving, feeling defeated. He failed again. He wondered when Santana would move on and be happy, like everyone else, when Christmas. She couldn't seem to let go of her murky past.
A hissing sound distracted Santana's thoughts. She turned to look at her left and saw Brittany blowing her cold hands, trying so hard to ease the coldness since the heater wasn't helping her.
She looks cold. But I can't give my coat to her, Santana thought, being her selfish self.
"Come here," Santana said, motioning Brittany to scoot closer. Mr. Smythe watched them through the rearview mirror.
"Why?" Brittany asked but she scooted closer.
Santana observed their positions. It was going to be hard but she would try. She arranged herself sideways, back against the door, put her left foot behind Brittany and left her right foot in the car's floor. She pulled Brittany closer to her body in between her legs, opened the jacket and enveloped Brittany with it, surprised that they both fit inside like they only have one body. She was now hugging Brittany from the back while sharing one coat.
Might as well share the body heat, Santana thought.
Brittany relaxed herself inside Santana's embrace, glad that she finally has enough heat but bothered at the same time when the heat reached her cheeks and made it pink. She tried to just enjoy the heat and not think about Santana's chest against her back.
Mr. Smythe watched as Santana rested her chin on Brittany's right shoulder, showing her right side profile to him. He didn't miss how Santana's eyes somehow glittered from the dimmed yellow light inside the car and his hope sparked to life. He tried so hard to stop himself from smiling because of the overwhelming feeling.
Miss Brittany is the key.
~.~
Santana was lying on the bed comfortably, back against the headboard with a pillow serving as a cushion so her back wouldn't hurt. Her right arm was rested behind her head and her left hand was holding a book atop her tummy. She was reading 'Vita Nuova', trying to refresh her French vocabulary and keep her mind from thinking about the coming Christmas.
She did this every year, locking herself inside her room and letting people outside busy themselves with preparing for the Christmas Eve next week and when the Christmas Eve came, she still wouldn't get out of her room until the next morning. She hated Christmas since she was nine years old. It brought back old, murky memories she's been trying to block away from her present. She couldn't focus on reading because her mind kept on reeling back to the world outside her door. She looked through the floor-to-ceiling window on her left and saw the sky was already dark. Their servants were probably setting up the Christmas tree by now. The beeping sound of the door being opened brought her back from her thoughts.
"Santana," Brittany said as she took a seat beside Santana.
"Hmm?" Santana hummed, pretending to be focused on what she was reading.
Much to Santana's surprise, Brittany laid beside her, rested her head on her chest and her right arm snaked to her waist. Santana's heart jumped and she looked at the girl, eyes asking 'what are you doing?!' because she couldn't trust her voice.
Brittany motioned to the window just below their feet with her eyes. Santana looked at the direction and saw, in front of their floor-to-ceiling window was another floor-to-ceiling window overseeing the hallway, the hallway was filled with servants passing by, busy with decorating the whole house for Christmas.
"They're watching us?" Santana asked and Brittany simply nodded.
Santana sighed before putting the book down on her bedside table. She lowered her right arm and spun it around Brittany's shoulder. "We can't really get our privacy here, huh?" she said as she hugged Jessica tightly.
"So, what brought you here? I thought you're helping them to decorate the Christmas tree?"
"Aren't you going to help?" Brittany asked against Santana's chest.
Santana scoffed. "We pay them for that. Let them do their job."
"But it's fun. I help our servants decorate our Christmas tree every year and it gives me this feeling, like you're going back to your childhood," Santana said and she suddenly felt homesick. This would be her first Christmas away from her family.
Santana's body tensed and her hands turned into tight fist. "I don't want to go back to my childhood," she said, almost whispering.
Brittany has always wanted to go back to her childhood. Where she could be carefree, where everything seemed to be fine, where there were no problems, and where she wasn't married to anyone. But it was something Santana doesn't want to happen. It was the darkest part of her life. Something not worth reminiscing. That's just one fact that they couldn't agree with.
Brittany looked up, worry visible in her eyes. "Santana… I don't want to push you… but… but I was thinking maybe you might need to decorate the Christmas tree with me."
Brittany felt that there was something wrong with Santana; she was never like that, she looked sad. So she chose her words carefully. She said 'need' in accordance to rule no.3, not having any idea that the word struck Santana.
Need? I might really need to, Santana thought. She knew that helping to decorate the Christmas tree would be the first step that she would take to move on. She's been running away from the past since the couple of years that passed and she thought maybe this was the right time to face it. She was glad that Brittany was there to help her and she would gladly accept Brittany's outstretched hand.
For a second, she thought if Brittany knew her past. But that was impossible. No one would tell Brittany about Santana's past.
Santana heaved a deep breath before nodding. "Okay."
Brittany beamed, though she knew that Santana couldn't say no. "Really?"
"Yes." Santana smiled.
~.~
Santana looked at the snow-white, seven-feet-tall Christmas tree in front of her. Four servants were already working around it, putting blue Christmas lights, red and green ornaments all around it. A few more servants were working all over the living room, dangling huge ornaments and ribbons on the ceiling using tall, metal ladders. Everyone was busy and it's making her uneasy. Brittany, sensing Santana's uneasiness, held her hand and squeezed it lightly.
"Can we help?" Brittany asked the head servant as she pulled Santana beside them.
The old woman looked at Santana with a mixture of concern and shock before looking back at Brittany. The other servants stopped on whatever they were doing. Slowly, a smile crept across the old woman's lips. "Of course, Miss."
The four servants moved aside to give way to Santana and Brittany before going back to their jobs. Brittany handed Santana a red ornament. She looked at it before looking back at Brittany only to see her staring at her encouragingly. She nodded before dangling it on one of the branches of the tree. She took a step backward to look at it. It blended perfectly with the tree. She could now hear the Christmas bells ringing- for the first time after fourteen years.
That was the first ornament I have ever put in a Christmas tree after fourteen years.
They continued putting decorations to the tree and the senior servants, who witnessed Santana's past, kept on glancing at Santana with smiles playing in their lips. The junior servants, who were new and doesn't know anything about Santana's past, looked at the senior servants confusedly but they decided to just put it on the back of their heads.
A few feet away from Santana, Mr. Smythe watched. He also has a smile on his lips. He was right after all- Brittany was the key for Santana to move on. He felt happy but, at the same time, jealous. He has been with Santana for a long time but he didn't manage to help Santana to move on but Brittany, who just came into their lives, managed to help her. After a couple of minutes, he walked back to the butlers' rooms. He has a phone call to make.
Meanwhile, Brittany was not having any clue what's happening around her. She doesn't even know that she was helping Santana to move on with this simple thing. All that she knew was that she's happy though it was her first Christmas away from her family because Santana was there to keep her warm inside and out. Though she was happy, it still feared her. That would be a problem when the time came.
For the couple of Christmas that passed, Santana was never relaxed. Tonight, however, she felt extremely relaxed and extremely happy. Her hand would brush against Brittany's hand occasionally when they were putting ornaments on the same branch, she would look up and Brittany would smile, she would smile back. Just then she heard a Christmas song playing- Santa Baby. She turned around only to see Leo has already set up a speaker in the corner and was busy rummaging his iPod for Christmas songs.
Leo, sensing eyes on him, looked up. His eyes grew wide when he saw Santana helping with the Christmas tree. "Sis?"
Santana understood. Her brother was shocked to see her out of her room and, more shocking to him, trimming the Christmas tree. She smiled. "Nice song."
"B-but… San wha-" He stopped in mid-sentence when Santana glared at him. Santana glanced at Brittany, who was busy decorating the tree, and looked back to Leo. Leo understood immediately- he was to say no word about this being Santana's first time in decorating the tree when Brittany was around.
Leo nodded and Santana resumed what she was doing. The corner of his lips itched to rise upward so he smiled. For the first time seeing Santana like this, he couldn't believe it. But he was happy and he knew that her older sister was finally taking a step forward. He turned and left, leaving the songs in his Christmas playlist playing. He has to tell his parents about this fast.
Santana was so blissful that she felt disappointed when they've already put everything in the Christmas tree and was done trimming it. She was the one who put the glass star on top.
"Miss Santana." The main servant bowed as Santana climbed down the ladder. "We're happy that you finally helped us to decorate the Christmas tree this year."
Santana smiled, surprising every senior servants. She was never kind to anyone, especially to the servants. "I'm happy too." 1
The four servants who helped them with the Christmas tree left with a final bow, leaving Santana and Brittany. Santana took a few steps backward to observe the tree. The white branches were barely visible under the wreaths, ornaments, artificial leaves, ribbons and Christmas lights. It was glowing blue like the contentedness glowing inside Santana.
She was happy that she finally took a step forward. Though she was taking baby steps, this would be a great start. She was thankful to Brittany for holding her hand till the end without letting go, not even once. She never knew that it was Brittany she needed to have enough courage to move on. She silently wished that this would continue.
Brittany, seeing Santana's twinkling eyes as she gazed up the Christmas tree, held her hand, but to her surprise Santana enveloped her in an unexpected, tight hug. Santana rubbed her back soothingly but it seemed like she was the one needing it. She was breathing deeply like she was about to cry. Brittany hugged her back as thoughts flooded her mind.
The following words Santana whispered to her sounded surreal that she thought she was dreaming:
"What would I do without you?"
!~%#%^ ~~!
SPECIAL DEED:
Jessica's Dream
Brittany raced forward blindly. Turning. Winding. Staying out of the straightaways. The footsteps behind her seemed relentless. Brittany's mind was blank. Blank to everything—where she was, who was chasing her—all that was left was instinct, self preservation, no pain, only fear, and raw energy. A shot exploded against the azulejo tile behind her. Shards of glass sprayed across the back of her neck. She stumbled left, into another alley. She heard herself call for help, but except for the sound of footsteps and strained breathing, the morning air remained deathly still.
She searched everywhere for an open door, an open gate, any escape from the suffocating canyons. Nothing. The walkway narrowed.
"Help!" Brittany's voice was barely audible.
The walls grew closer on each side. The walkway curved. Brittany searched for an intersection, a tributary, any way out. The passageway narrowed. Locked doors. Narrowing. Locked gates. The footsteps were closing. She was in a straightaway, and suddenly the alley began to slope upward. Steeper. Brittany felt her legs straining. She was slowing.
And then she was there.
Like a freeway that had run out of funding, the alley just stopped. There was a high wall, a wooden bench, and nothing else. No escape. Brittany looked up three stories to the top of the building and then spun and started back down the long alley, but she had only taken a few steps before she stopped short.
At the foot of the inclined straightaway, a figure appeared. The man moved toward Brittany with a measured determination. In his hand, a gun glinted in the moon's light. Brittany felt a sudden lucidity as she backed up toward the wall. She looked up at the figure approaching. The shadow advanced up the inclined passageway. Brittany saw walls on all sides—a dead end behind her. A few gated entryways between them, but it was too late to call for help.
Brittany pressed her back against the dead end. Suddenly she could feel every piece of grit beneath the soles of her shoes, every bump in the stucco wall behind her. Her mind was reeling backward, her childhood, her parents . . . Santana.
Oh, God . . . Santana.
For the zillionth time since she was a kid, Brittany prayed. She did not pray for deliverance from death, instead, she prayed that the girl she left behind would find strength, that she would know without a doubt that she had been important to Brittany. She closed her eyes. The memories came like a torrent. They were not memories of Fencing competitions, academic awards, and the things that made up 90 percent of her life; they were memories of her. Simple memories: making breakfast for her, their fights when they were still newlyweds. It was as if every defense, every facade, every insecure exaggeration of her life had been stripped away. She was standing naked—flesh and bones before God.
She stood, eyes closed, as the man in a mask drew nearer. Somewhere nearby, a bell began to toll. Brittany waited in darkness, for the sound that would end her life.
But nothing came.
Brittany bolted up from the infirmary's bed and was relieved to see Santana right in front of her. She was shaking and she started crying while hugging Santana. For a second she thought the dream was real but glad that she has woken up even before the man pulled the trigger.
She cried in Santana's arms. Santana kept whispering soothing words to her and it somehow helped her to relax. She felt Santana's arms loosened, and her heart started beating fast. She was afraid to let go. So afraid that she unintentionally said words she feared she would say in about a year and nine months from now.
"Don't let go."