She knew she wasn't going to get out of eventually having Jake to the store. He is giddy with excitement, which Quinn supposes must stem from the fact that he was locked up for so long, before. She, on the other hand, liked her self-imposed, voluntary house arrest, and wonders why anyone would ever feel the need to go out.
The sun too bright, the air too tight, and her feet weird in her shoes after going barefoot for so long. If Jake hasn't gone out in days, she's certainly been in for much longer. She wonders who's in better shape to face the outside world and concludes neither of them; they're both probably as much of a liability. She feels dizzy and trembling and feverish, and hopes Jake won't notice, since he's looking around acting like a puppy who just got taken out for a walk. He holds on to her hand when they cross the street and she jumps a little, causing him to let go abruptly. It was almost nice, she thinks, steadying, except that Jake could never be a stead to anyone, much less her.
The store is unusually crowded, and she remembers today is the day of their monthly wine sale. It's off-putting, as much to Jake as it is to her, and she feels things starting off on the wrong foot, already. It doesn't help that Jake towers over the crowd, he can't get by as easily and Quinn isn't inclined to leave him alone. They wander around aimlessly for a little while, not sure what they're doing here exactly, and then Jake takes Quinn's crumpled shopping list out of his pocket and hands it to her.
"Oh. Right."
He follows like a shadow as she moves along, trying to pass unnoticed among the crowd, trying to pretend they don't bother her. She is too concerned about her own feelings of asphyxiation to worry about Jake, but when she accidentally turns back to look at him, she notices he looks slightly green.
"Didn't you have your own shopping list, Jake?"
"Oh, yeah," he says, and looks around. He's standing next to a pile of apples; he grabs a bunch and tosses them in the cart. A store attendant smiles at him."Need a bag?"
Jake turns around and speaks in an unnaturally high voice to the ceiling. "No."
The lady looks off-put, and Quinn wants to apologize, but then thinks better of it and turns to Jake.
"Anything else?"
"What?" he asks, disoriented.
"What else are you getting?"
Jake glances at the apples in the cart. "That's it."
"That's all you want? We came here for this?"
Jake looks at her and says nothing. Quinn sighs and grabs a few more items off her grocery list before finally giving up and getting in line at the register. She hears a loud, familiar whoop coming from the other side of the store, looks behind her, and finds Jake gone.
Her heart jumps a little and she looks around frantically. From a nearby aisle, she can see a ball flying across the air, and, leaving her shopping cart in line, she rushes toward it, only to find Jake on a skateboard, rolling across the aisle at top speed while spinning a basketball on one finger.
Quinn has a flashback of one of those pictures of him laying around somewhere, wearing a basketball jersey. He seems to be slightly cheerier, so she doesn't say anything, spins on her heel and runs back to the register, because the sooner they're out of here, the better.
Just as she's paying, she hears the familiar screams across the store and wonders if she can pretend not to. Jake is being escorted outside by a couple of security guards, who are struggling because he's so much taller than them. The manager is by Jake's side, saying something about damage to private property, and when he threatens to call the police, Jake starts laughing hysterically.
"I can pay for every single fucking thing in this store twice over, you know that?"
Sense finally lands on Quinn's head and she manages to drag Jake out of the store, promising to pay everything.
No one says anything on the way home, even though they're both visibly agitated, and finally, Quinn bursts.
"You know I can never set foot in that store again, right? That it's back to ordering on the phone?"
Jake doesn't say anything, but instead runs all the way home, and it's in trying to keep up with him that Quinn realizes how out of shape she is. She gets home about fifteen minutes later.
Santana takes one look at Quinn's pursed lips and knows. "What happened?"
"He threw a fit at the store."
"Did he hurt anyone?"
"No."
Santana sighs with relief, and it annoys Quinn to the core.
"We're, like, hundreds of dollars in debt."
"I'll charge it to the inheritance card."
"I'm never going to be able to show my face in there again."
"You're overreacting. You should have just told them he was sick. People usually understand that."
"He can't go through life expecting strangers to excuse his actions because they feel sorry-"
"It's not about feeling sorry for him, it's about empathy. It's about understanding he's different."
"I know, but-"
"I've met complete strangers who are more understanding than you are."
Quinn's taken to watching some of those dancing reality shows a couple of afternoons a week, while Daisy's at ballet and the boys at tutoring. The tutor has canceled today, however, and that means she's stuck with them. She lets them go play outside and turns on the living room TV so she can keep an eye on them from the window.
During commercial break, she goes to the kitchen to get some snacks and finds Jake there, grilling his usual steak. She wrinkles her nose in distaste, at the smell and at the fact that the only snack she can find is a bag of baby carrots. This new diet never fails to put her in a bad mood, which is only worsened when she realizes it's started to rain outside. She opens the front door and yells at the boys to come in. They do, groaning.
"Mom, it's not raining that hard."
Quinn keeps her eyes glued to the screen. "Hard enough. Last thing I need is you getting sick."
"I'm not gonna get sick-"
"You're always getting sick, Elliott."
"Not anymore mom, haven't you noticed?"
"You were here with me for weeks not too long ago, how can you say-"
"I had a broken arm, that's not being sick."
"Elliott, I really don't have time for this argument right now," Quinn says, turning up the volume to the TV. "Can you just please find something quiet to do inside?"
Elliott sighs, but nods his head. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good."
They're out of her sight and quiet for a good ten minutes, until commercial break comes on again and she hears noise in the foyer, and, rolling her eyes, goes to check on them. She finds them on the floor, wrestling. Elliott's got Jaeger pinned to the ground and a triumphant smile on his face, and his brother looks pleasantly shocked. There are muddy foot prints all around them, and bits of dirt even on their clothes and faces.
"What is going on?"
Elliott jumps off Jaeger quickly, thinking that's what Quinn's upset about, but notices her staring at the mud on the floor instead.
"I'm sorry mom, we didn't mean-"
"Elliott, what in the world has gotten into you?"
He looks uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"
"Since when do you act like this? You used to hate wrestling with your daddy, and you hated getting your hands dirty and now look at you. I don't even recognize you."
"Mom, I-"
"I don't want to hear it, Elliott. I want this floor scrubbed before your mother comes home. Oh, and while you're at it, you can scrub the kitchen floor too, I bet Jake's made a mess in there with his steak."
"But mom, I-"
Jaeger shakes his head at him to be quiet. "Don't worry. I'll help you."
"No, you won't," Quinn says, glancing back at the living room. "I told Elliott to go find something quiet to do and he didn't, so it's on him."
"Are you just punishing him because he's making you miss your show?"
"Go to your room, Jaeger."
"Elliott's never scrubbed a floor in his life, how is he supposed to-"
"He'll figure it out. It's not rocket science. I have to do it all the time, why shouldn't he?"
Jake's quiet, calm voice comes out of nowhere. "Because he's a child."
Quinn throws her hands up in the air. "You gotta be kidding me." Rolling her eyes, she heads back to the living room, not really caring what happens anymore.
Jake brings a sponge and a small bucket and sits down on the floor next to Elliott. "Jaeger, go to your room."
He does, but stops in the living room. Quinn's eyes are fixed on the screen, and Jaeger's eyes are fixed on her.
"You could do that, you know."
"What?"
"Dance on that show. You're good enough."
"Was good enough. But thank you. That's a very nice thing to say."
"It's not a compliment."
"What is it then?"
"It's my way of saying that maybe if you were doing instead of watching you'd be less unhappy and less likely to take it out on your son."
Quinn sighs. "Really, Jaeger, I'm not asking for your opinion. God, everyone and their opinions in this house are driving me crazy."
"If by that you're talking about Jake, you do realize he's sick, right?"
"Can I watch my show now? You're making me miss the ending."
Jaeger shrugs. "Suit yourself."
When Santana comes home from work that evening, she finds the house silent, and her wife asleep on the couch, the TV on silent. She lays down next to her, still in her lab coat, and Quinn, asleep, wraps her arms around her.
Santana knows it's not ideal, not the arrangement she dreamed about all her life, but somewhere in her subconscious, this Quinn is holding on to her like she never wants to let her go, and Santana doesn't want her to. They fall asleep tangled in each other, relief filling their limbs like it's unfamiliar, but welcome.
Quinn hears the wheels rolling and thinks it must be a nightmare, obviously inspired by the events of the week before. She rolls over on her side, to face her wife.
"Santana?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you hear that noise?"
"No."
"There's a noise coming from the studio."
"You mean Jake's bedroom?"
Quinn ignores her and sets out down the hall. It's incredible Santana's not more concerned with this, given how Jake is. The door is slightly ajar and Quinn peeks inside, but he's not there anymore, and neither is the noise. She can, however, hear it still. Determined to find the source, she goes out into their backyard, where she can see, with horror, her grandmother's antique garden bench propped up diagonally against a wall and Jake on a skateboard, trying to bounce off it.
She must look ridiculous, standing outside in this weather in Santana's flannel pajamas, and it is this thought alone that sends her back inside. .
"Really, Santana?"
Her wife, who had gone back to sleep, sits up like she's been shot. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"
"A skateboard?"
Santana looks around the room, realizes where she is, and sighs. "I wanted to give him something to do."
"And this was what you thought of?"
"He picked it out."
"Oh, and you just went right along with it? He's not sixteen, he's a grown man, how could you-"
"He didn't have a childhood, Quinn."
Quinn is quiet, maybe because she knows the feeling.
"I'm trying to give him one."
"None of us had a childhood, Santana."
"What else can I do? He can't get a job, he can hardly get out of here... I had to find something to keep him busy."
"That's not your responsibility. He's not Jaeger. You pay more attention to him than you do to your own son."
"He was here before Jaeger was, and I'm not going to apologize for it."
"Here where?"
"Here in my life. On this planet. Besides, Jaeger has had everything he ever wanted, and he's got his uncle to thank for that. That's the reason I've put so much care into raising him. I wanted to give him everything Jake didn't have."
She knows the words are true as soon as they come out of her mouth, though she'd never consciously thought about it before. Quinn just looks at her, and a flicker of pity crosses her face, but briefly, so briefly, that Santana thinks she might have imagined it.
"Santana, why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm sorry, I forgot."
It's seven a.m. and they're all gathered in the kitchen, staring at each other and trying to figure out what they can do to solve this problem, this early, and yet too late.
Elliott walks in, yawning, the last one up as usual, and does a double take when he sees his mother, up and awake.
"What's wrong?" he asks, immediately alarmed.
"Mom forgot to tell Quinn that Daisy had a bake sale today at school and now she doesn't have anything to take."
"She could miss class," Jake suggests.
"Everyone knows kids who miss bake sales are the ones whose mothers were too lazy to bake anything and I will not have people thinking that about my child," says Quinn, shaking her head. "Santana, can't you just take her to the store and buy something and pretend we made it?"
"That's cheating, mommy."
"Well, we're just wasting time sitting here and no one is coming up with anything."
"Time in which you could be whipping up something," Jake says pointedly.
"Really? Like what, Jake? Please mention something that I can bake in the fifteen minutes Daisy has to get to school."
Jake opens his mouth to say something, but Santana interrupts him with a sigh. "Look, you know what? The point of these fucking bake sales is to make money, right? So I'll just say our cookies burned or something and offer to give them whatever money it is they would have raised by selling them."
No one seems comforted by this answer, least of all Daisy, but they all agree it makes sense and rush out the door.
Quinn sighs as they go, not even having time to say bye to anyone and already feeling the beginnings of a migraine throbbing at her temples. Jake stares at her. "What's wrong?"
"This whole thing is giving me a headache."
"Must be because you had to get up about three hours earlier than you usually do."
"I didn't have to, Jake. You woke me up."
I thought you'd want to know about what was going on."
"What for? There was nothing I could do at this point. If Santana had told me yesterday-"
"She didn't do it on purpose, she already told you she forgot."
"I know."
"She's stressed out, she has a lot to do."
"I know that, too."
"Maybe she wouldn't be so stressed if she didn't have to work so much."
Quinn scoffs. "Are you kidding me? She loves going to work."
"Maybe she wouldn't have to work so hard to sustain this family if you got a job."
"You're acting like I'm forcing her to work. She knew perfectly well when she married me that I was incapable of holding a job-"
"Why, are you physically impaired?"
"No, Jake. I just have no education and no experience."
"And you never will, if you don't try. Besides, didn't you teach? So you're good for something, at least."
"I stopped so I could raise the children."
"Which you're not dong a very good job of. Obviously experience doesn't help there."
"Shut up, Jake."
"You're way in over your head. You shouldn't have had so many children. I can't believe you wanted more."
Did Santana tell him? Quinn wonders furiously.
But after staring at him for a couple of seconds, she realizes that, no, he doesn't know. If he did, he would have brought it up by now.
"My sister would never have a child with you."
Quinn feels it like a stab. I wasn't asking her to. Even though she'd thought about it, even though it had crossed her mind so many times, in the first few months after they got married. She just never had the courage to ask, because she was afraid Santana would think exactly that.
Santana comes home to find Quinn sitting on one of their kitchen stools, wearing actual makeup and her hair down and not in a ponytail for the first time in ages. She looks at her oddly but doesn't say anything; she's learning, as time passes, that sometimes with her wife, it's better to just not ask. Instead, she just sits on the stool next to hers.
"I'm working late today."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Why would I be kidding?"
"Today is Jaeger's baseball game."
Santana slaps a hand to her forehead. "Shit. I forgot."
And she did, truly. She feels a twinge of remorse. "Should I feel bad, that I'm forgetting all this stuff that has to do with the kids lately?"
"No. I forget stuff that has to do with them all the time."
"That doesn't mean it's OK, Quinn."
"No, it just means we're human."
"What's up with this more relaxed approach you're taking to parenting lately?"
"Nothing, I just figure... they're gonna hate me anyway, so why does it matter?"
"Quinn, they're not gonna hate you. You're just saying that because of Willow, and she doesn't even hate you. At least not anymore."
"So you're admitting she did, at one point."
"It'd be stupid to deny it, you'd know I was lying."
"True."
"But she likes you now, I think."
"I don't think it's that she likes me, she probably just feels sorry for me."
"That's good. It means she's beginning to understand your life wasn't always easy, or your choice."
"So I'm not her hateful mother, I'm just another fucked-up human being."
"Exactly."
They grin at each other.
"Why do fucked-up human beings have children?" Quinn asks.
"Because they're mistakes. In my case."
"Or because we can't help ourselves. In mine."
"None are good enough reasons, if you ask me."
"Is there ever a good enough reason?"
Santana shrugs. "I'm sure there are people who think they have good reasons. But do I personally think so? No. Not really."
Jaeger, Daisy and Elliott come into the room and stare at them. It's so weird, to just see them there, having a conversation and doing nothing else, and Santana feels a sudden urge to explain to their children that this is how she met their mother, that this is how they fell in love.
Jaeger taps his bat against the kitchen floor. "So, are you guys ready to go?"
Santana gets up from her stool. "Jaeger, I'm really sorry about this, but I have to work late today."
Jaeger blinks a couple times, trying to figure out why this is a big deal. "It's OK, mom."
"No it's not, Jaeger, I feel terrible-"
"You've never missed a game in my life. You've taken me to every performance, every event, every meeting. I'm not gonna hold it against you that you can't take me once. It's probably a good thing. It'll make me more normal."
Santana's eyes fill with tears, but she holds them.
"It'll be fine, mom. I won't miss much. It's only the first game."
They make their way back to the room, Daisy and Elliott more disappointed than Jaeger, but the drag of his bat against the floor giving him away. Santana shuts her eyes for a minute, trying to solve this problem logically, wishing equations and formulas could help her the way they do at work, when it dawns on her.
"Quinn?"
"Yeah?"
"You can take them. I'll drive you."
"I can't take all three kids with me."
"Sure you can."
"It's too much, Santana. I won't be able to handle them."
"Fine. Then Jake can come with you."
"No."
"Why not?"
"You don't know how difficult it is to go out with him, Santana."
"And why is that?"'
"He's always speaking his mind."
"Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him."
As always, thanks for reading.