Thank-you everyone for the reviews. I LOVE reading them.

Enjoy! Please read and review! Please forgive any grammatical errors.

I do not own Glee, the movie Definitely, Maybe, the songs mentioned in the story, or anything.

Author's Note: Buckle your seats, because we're about to go through two years of Sam's life. This maybe should have been broken up into two chapters. But I wanted to reveal the mom faster so I condensed them. Anyway, enjoy!


"You love her?" Heather asked. She laid her head back against the couch pillow. "I guess there's no happily ever after because she isn't here."

"Good Observation." I replied, crossing my arms and slouching more into the couch. I looked at TV. The TV news had come on and the weatherman said excitedly that this would probably be last warm 70 degree day of 2025.

"What happens to Mercedes? Why aren't you two still together?"

I turned the TV off. "Well, the next part is in May. At this point, Mercedes and I are both 22…"


It was May. Mercedes and I had been together for about two months. We started dating again soon after the Superbowl and everything was back to the way it used to be. We picked up right where we left off and it was great.

Sitting on the couch in my apartment, I flipped through the stations trying to find the marathon of the Avatar: The Last Airbender. Mercedes had told me that she had never seen the show and I wanted to use the marathon as a crash course. I found the channel after a few attempts. There was a commercial on advertising for the 2016 Rio Olympics games that were starting in a few months.

Mercedes was still in the kitchen when the bright colors of the familiar animation filled the screen.

"It's on!" I yelled, turning my head back slightly to see Mercedes standing in front of an open refrigerator, drumming her fingers on the door. I could see her scanning the inside, looking for snacks.

"I'm coming!" Mercedes said back without breaking eye contact with the refrigerator.

"You'll miss the opening!" I said. "It explains the entire premise of the show."

I leaned forward and grabbed the remote to turn up the volume of the television. Getting more comfortable for the marathon, I put one leg up on the coffee table and threw an arm behind the couch before leaning back into the couch.

The episode title flashed on the TV screen when I heard the refrigerator close. Subsequently, there was a sound of footsteps approaching the couch.

"You need to go food shopping." Mercedes said, finding her place underneath my arm. She passed me a yogurt and a spoon. "The only things in that refrigerator are eggs and beer."

I shrugged. "It's a simple diet."

"No. It's an 'I'm too lazy to go the market' diet." Mercedes opened her yogurt top and mixed the contents of the container with her spoon. "Now, what is the point of this cartoon?"

I leaned away from her and narrowed my eyes. A cartoon? Obviously, she didn't understand the awesomeness of this show. "Alright, baby doll. Rule #1, we do not refer to this as a cartoon. I like to call it an animation of an epic coming-of-age story."

Mercedes stopped swirling her spoon and narrowed her eyes back at me. "Are you really going to hype up this cartoon?"

I threw my arms up in a dramatic fashion that caused Mercedes to laugh. "You broke Rule #1 in twelve seconds! Not cool."

Mercedes shrugged. "I doubt this Avatar show is as good as Hey Arnold."

I burrowed my eyebrows and tilted my head in confusion. "What's Hey Arnold?"

Mercedes almost choked on the spoon that she had just put in her mouth. She pulled the spoon out and looked at me. "Oh my God, Sam. You never watched Hey Arnold? Did you have a childhood?"

"Yes. I had a great childhood. I had my guitar, comics, and Nickelodeon shows like Avatar."

"But Avatar: The Last Airbender didn't come out until we were in high school."

I eyed her suspiciously before leaning in closer and whispering, "Um…Ms. Jones, I thought you said that you had never seen show?"

"Ah…well…" Mercedes proceeded to swirl her yogurt even faster than before. She avoided eye contact and looked everywhere else possible but at my face. "Okay, maybe I did see this show before…once…twice…maybe I've seen the entire series."

I felt my mouth fall open. "Why did you-"

"I wanted to hang out with you." Mercedes said quickly. She shrugged. "When you asked if I had ever seen The Last Airbender, I thought you were talking about the movie. Which I haven't seen. When I figured out that you were talking about the series, I was going to tell you but…you had already planned out a whole day. It sounded like fun so I just didn't tell you."

I kissed her cheek. "For the record, you don't need a reason to hang out with me."

Mercedes looked down at her yogurt and smiled. "Noted."

I kissed her cheek again, but this time I got a giggle in response.

"Sam, stop."

"Why?" I kissed her again, but trying to move the pecks closer to her lips.

"Because the show is on."

I shrugged before moving closer and continuing my efforts. "What's the point? We've both seen the show."

Mercedes looked at me and smirked. Conceding to my point, she kissed. I felt her hand on my leg. As Mercedes moved closer, so did the pressure she exerted on my leg. It caused me to flinch in pain.

"What's wrong?" Mercedes asked immediately. "Are you okay?"

"My leg." I said, clutching it. "I felt that sharp pain again."

Mercedes nodded, "When are you going to the doctor's? It isn't normal to have recurring pain for months."

I nodded in agreement. The pain had been recurring ever since the Super Bowl, especially after they removed the cast.

"I'm going to see him tomorrow."


The sound from the minute hand on the clock as it clicked past four filled the unusually quiet room. This would have been insignificant to anyone else but me.

I had been waiting for the doctor to come back with my test results when the minute hand was on the ten. It had been thirty minutes since the doctor said 'I'll be back in a moment.' Worry steadily increased with every passing minute. He was taking too long to go over my results. It was a bad sign.

The hand hit the five when there was a click of the door handle.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Evans." The doctor said, closing the door. He walked around to sit at his desk chair that was across from me.

"No problem." I looked at the brown file back that he had placed on his desk. Evans was on the tab.

"How long has this pain in your leg been coming as you say-?"

"In and out." I repeated what I had said almost 40 minutes ago. "Since the Super Bowl, there has been a sharp pain in my leg. It'll come for several minutes but then I won't feel it again for weeks."

He opened the file. "Interesting."

The word left the doctors mouth and left a bad taste of mine. Interesting.

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. "Listen doc; is this something that I can take medication for? Football practice is starting in a few weeks-"

"Oh no, Mr. Evans." He said, looking over his square glasses. "There will be no more football."

My heart dropped. "What-what do you mean?" I stammered, dumbfounded.

The doctor sighed and went through my file. Going through several x-rays, he settled on the third one. Then putting his glasses closer to his eyes, he examined the back and front of the x-ray. The doctor stood and walked over to a wall light. He slid the x-ray in, overtop of the light.

Turning the light on, my insides glowed for both of us to see.

"Do you see this?" The doctor said pointing to the x-ray.

"No not really. What is it?"

The doctor explained that a part of the inside of my leg had torn. "Thankfully with some physical therapy, the pain should subside. But you cannot play football with this. You could become seriously injured if you continue to play with this impairment."

I sat there speechless. Air lodged in my throat and words were lost in my mind. Everything I had worked for was gone. How could this happen? My dream of playing football was quickly becoming a memory and there was nothing that I could do to keep it in the present.

"Mr. Evans." The doctor sat back down.

I exhaled. "Is there anything that can be done? I mean- is there a procedure? Surgery?"

The doctor shook his head. "There isn't. I wouldn't advise you to play football and you would be hard-pressed to find a doctor who would. Mr. Evans, I believe this injury was sustained during the last tackle in the Super Bowl. It's surprising that the team doctor didn't see it."

I sunk back in my chair. "All I know is football."

He closed my file. "Well Mr. Evans… this would be a good time to take up golf. It truly is a relaxing sport. And the –"

His words soon became background noise to the thoughts in my head. If I didn't play football, what would I do? I wanted to play football. It was all I had ever wanted since I was a kid. Now, the dream was dead. Now what?


"I'm sorry, Sam."

Mercedes told me in my apartment as we sat across from each other, the kitchen table between us.

"This isn't right." I said, frustrated. "Why does everything go wrong every time my life is good?"

Fingers ran over my hand and I looked up to see Mercedes smiling at me. "Your life is still good."

"I can't play football."

She shrugged. "So. Now you can do anything you want."

I frowned and retracted my hands. "All I ever wanted was to play football."

Mercedes sighed. "I was just trying to help."

"Yeah, I know." I stood up and walked towards the refrigerator. After opening it, I sighed. I had forgotten to go food shopping again.

"Sam."

"Yeah." Turning slightly, I saw Mercedes playing with her fingers.

"I'm going on tour later this year. And I have to work on a few songs for my new album. I have to go to New York in about four months."

I nodded. I knew she would have to go sooner or later. "On tour? For how long?"

"About seven months."

I laughed bitterly. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

"Sam, you know that I have to go."

I nodded. I knew. "Go, go. At least one of us should live out our dreams."

I turned my attention back to the empty refrigerator that now just had beer. I had eaten the eggs this morning.

I smiled when I felt arms wrap around my stomach and a face pressed into my back." Come with me, Sam."

It was muffled but I heard it.

"On tour?" I asked.

I felt her head shift. Her voice was clearer. "Come on tour with me. It would be a lot more fun if you were there."

"Sure." I said quickly." I'd love to come and watch you on stage night after night."

It was something to look forward to. Mercedes and I on the road together."

"You could be my groupie." Mercedes said and I laughed.

"I better be your only groupie."

I felt her nod against my back. "Plus, it'll take your mind off of football."

Instantly, the excitement of our trip vanished with the mere mention of sport.

"Hopefully." I said, less enthusiastically.

Mercedes let go of me. I reached in the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.

I closed the refrigerator door and looked over to see Mercedes frowning.

"A beer? It's only 11 am."

I shrugged." It's happy hour somewhere."

The next five seconds encompassed one of the worst mistakes that I had ever made in my life.

I opened the beer and started to drink it. The first of many.


"This place is a mess."

Mercedes had used her key to enter my apartment. I looked at her through sleepy eyes. How long had I been asleep?

"Sam, did you forget about our date?"

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Mercedes was wearing an ankle length trench coat and a scowl. She wasn't happy.

I rubbed my forehead with the back of my thumb. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep–"

"Are you drunk?" Mercedes asked, putting her hand up and pointing to the three empty beer bottles on the side table.

"Maybe slightly."

Mercedes released a disappointed sigh that made me feel worse. "I was really hoping that this was just a phase."

Mercedes walked back into my hall. When I heard a creak from a door opening, I figured that she was in my bedroom. Only my bedroom door creaked. A few moments later, Mercedes returned with clothes that she threw at me.

"What was that for?" I asked.

Mercedes crossed her arms. "There were more empty beer bottles in the back. What's going on with you?

"Nothing. Just-" I leaned forward and covered my face with my hands. "Can we just stay here for the night? Hang out?"

Her voice was firm. "No, dinner was the plan."

Mercedes grabbed the keys from my side table. "I guess I'll be driving."

"I guess so."

Mercedes walked toward the door and opened it. She looked back. "Sam, I'm really disappointed in you. Get dressed."

Mercedes closed the door and I looked forward to the black screen of the TV. I didn't like who was staring back. I saw who had started using alcohol to feel better. A guy who had been drinking for the last four months.

I was disappointed in myself.


"Mercedes, listen to me."

The car ride to the restaurant had been silent. Mercedes was angry about me drinking and I didn't blame her. Any questions I asked during the car ride, usually ended in curt one word answers from her.

As soon as Mercedes had parked, she took the keys out of the ignition and exited the car in seemingly one swift motion. Leaving me to quickly follow her, trying to explain to her why I had drank again. When I had promised to stop.

"Not now, Sam." Mercedes walked several steps ahead of me. The wind was blowing. It pushed against our strides. It slowed me a little, but Mercedes powered through. Not even the elements would stop her to talk to me.

I jogged forward, finally within reach of her. Grabbing her arm, I turned her around to face me.

"Let me go." The words came out like a warning. Her eyes were closed. Lips were straight. Her teeth gritted.

"No." I said, moving my hands to firmly grab her shoulders. "Mercedes, I'm going through something. I don't know how to explain."

"Try." Mercedes opened her eyes. She was still angry but concern seeped through as her face relaxed. Her lips relaxed into a slight frown and she reached for my hands. She laced our fingers; our palms touched. "Sam, you're scaring me. You have been drinking a lot."

I bit the inside of my cheek as I thought of how to explain my feelings. I didn't know what was going on with me. I just knew that alcohol made it better. "Lost. I guess that's the best word. I feel lost. What's my plan? I'm 22 and I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. Football is gone and…sometimes I think-what's the point of getting out of bed? I'm starting to feel worthless-"

Arms encircled my stomach and Mercedes pulled me into a hug. The warm from the embrace overtook me and made me forgot that it was a cool September day. These were the only times that I felt good anymore. The times when I was with Mercedes.

"The last thing you are is worthless." Mercedes ran her hand up and down my back. "Do you know what you've accomplished? You won the Superbowl and that is something no one will ever be able to take away from you. You took care of your family. You have amazing friends that care about you. I love you. And you know, I don't love just anybody."

I laughed. I laid my head on the top of hers. The breeze became stronger, helping the smell of her perfume fill my nose. I smiled.

"We're going to figure this out, okay?" Mercedes said. She pulling away slightly and making eye contact. Her dark brown eyes promised my green ones. "But you have to stop drinking. I don't want your problem to get any worse."

I pulled away. Cold air replaced the warmth that had just been on my chest. "My problem?"

Mercedes put her hands in her coat pockets, before nodding. "Your drinking problem."

"Don't call it a problem." I said. "I drink every once in a while. I'm not a drunk."

"I didn't call you a drunk, but your drinking is more than every once in a while. It's everyday."

"Every day? I don't-"

"You're in denial." Her voice was calm.

My own voice was angry. "A drinking problem? Is that what you really think of me?"

The wind calmed down and was replaced by silence. I stared at Mercedes and she looked back. Mercedes frowned before looking down. I got my answer.

"Whatever." I said walking past her, toward the restaurant.

"Sam, wait-" Mercedes said following me.

It was a total reversal of five minutes prior. This time, I was angry and Mercedes wanted to talk. But the underlying problem was still the same. I just wouldn't admit the problem to myself at the time and it angered me that someone else had. The words hurt the worst coming from Mercedes.

I opened the door to the restaurant and nearly jumped out of my skin, as everyone yelled 'Surprise!'

"What?" I said quickly, shocked. "Why?"

"Because you're Awesome!" Brittany said dressed in a Wonder Woman costume, while standing with a group of familiar people in the restaurant opening. "But you're not amazing like Spiderman."

I stood there confused. Not only by Brittany's comments, but my family and all of my friends stood around in superhero costumes. Above their heads, was a banner that said 'Sam is Awesome.'

"I don't understand." I said.

Mercedes walked through the door -with a white wig on. Adjusting her wig, Mercedes said, "This is a Superhero Party for you."

I jerked my head back. "For me?"

"I know that you've been upset lately about not being able to play football." Mercedes said. "So, we all came up with this idea to cheer you up."

I smiled at her while pointing to the banner. "Sam is Awesome?"

"That was my idea." The unmistakable voice came from the crowd. It was Stevie.

I turned around to see a sixteen year old Stevie walking toward me. He was wearing a complete purple spandex outfit with a golden Z on his chest. Stevie shook his head, "Just so you know, I would only wear this ridiculous outfit to cheer you up."

I chuckled and scratched my head. "Who are you supposed to be?"

Stevie sighed and fully extended his arm to his right. His hand formed a fist. Then Stacy came to the front in a matching outfit and excitedly bumped her fist with his.

Stacy bellowed, "WONDER TWIN POWERS ACTIVATE!"

"No." I said in disbelief. "Does anyone have a camera?"

Stevie's eyes widened. "This better not end up on Facebook. I swear I will fight someone."

I smiled. This was going to be fun.


After talking with my dad and mom, who came as Superman and Lois Lane, I walked over to the other side of the room. Walking through the crowd of colorful superhero costumes, I realized how lucky I was to have such amazing people in my life. I wished I could bottle the feelings I had at that moment, so I could feel this happy tomorrow.

I saw Mike and Tina standing off against the wall. Mike was wearing a brown trench coat. He was also carrying a silver staff in one hand and playing cards in the other. Tina had a red wig with a stripe of white in it. I think I had an idea of who they were. But I still asked,

"Who are you guys supposed to be?"

In her best Southern accent, Tina responded, "I'm a southern belle by the name of Rogue. Don't you recognize me?"

Mike responded, "Gambit."

Tina elbowed him. "You're supposed to talk in your accent."

Mike coughed and attempted to speak in a Southern accent. It wasn't so good. "My name is Gambit and I come from New Orleans."

Tina shook her head, "Eh…it could be better."

"What's going on party people?" Matt asked, walking over with a black shirt and a mask that had small pointy ears.

"Black Panther?" I asked.

Matt smiled. "Two cool points for that one. You're the only one that got it right. Everyone thinks I'm Batman."

"How's it going, Matt?" Mike asked.

"Nothing much. Got traded to the Miami Dolphins."

"Seriously?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Nothing I could do about."

"Sam!"

I turned around to see Mercedes carrying a shopping bag. She still had on her coat.

Mercedes opened the bag and pulled out two costumes. "Sam, you're the only civilian in this place. Pick one."

I grabbed both the costumes, but the white wig on Mercedes' head caught my eye. "Who are you?"

Mercedes frowned. "Please don't make me."

Tina spoke up, "Mercedes, you promised that you would wear a costume, too."

Mercedes sighed and removed the trench coat to reveal a white jumpsuit. "I'm Storm."

I smirked. "Hot."

Mercedes smiled. "So, we're clear...I'm only wearing this costume for you. I wouldn't be caught dead in this otherwise."

"Thank-you for this party." I said. "You are the best girlfriend ever."

"I would have to disagree." Mike said wrapping an arm around Tina.

Tina put up a gloved hand and wiggles her fingers. "Be careful. My power is to absorb the powers, memories, and strength of anyone I touch. I could put you in a coma."

Mike squeezed tighter. "It would be worth it."

Matt interjected, "Did you know that in the more modern Marvel comics that the Black Panther and Storm get married?"

Mercedes' eyebrows rose. "Really?"

I clenched the costumes and laughed lowly. "Oh, Matt. They wouldn't find your body."

Matt took a few steps back and raised his arms in mock defense. "Sam, it was a fact. Didn't mean anything by it."

"Just so we're clear." I looked down at the costumes in my hands. There was a Captain America costume in one hand and Thor costume in the other.

"I knew that you liked both of them." Mercedes said.

I smiled. "You pick."

Mercedes bit her thumb as her eyes danced from costume to costume. "Captain."

I shrugged. "Captain America, it is."


After changing in the bathroom stall, I walked back out into the restaurant back to where Matt, Tina, Mike and Mercedes had been. Now Rachel, Puck, Lauren and Artie had joined them.

"More costumes to guess?"

"Are you really wearing the mask, Sam?" Artie asked.

I blushed, flipping the mask off my head. "I thought it was cool."

Rachel smiled. "I forgot how much of a dork you are." Rachel sat down in a chair wearing a glittery pink ball gown. I had no idea who she was.

"You?"

Rachel stood up and coughed loudly. Ever the diva, she needed an audience. Then Rachel picked up a wand and waved it in a circular motion. "Well, my good sir. I am Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, from the Broadway Musical, Wicked.

My face twisted in confusion. "Is Glinda really a superhero?"

"That's what I said." Lauren added in a blue shirt and jeans. There was a huge 4 emblem on her shirt.

Rachel put her hands on her hips. "Glinda is a character in a hit Broadway play that stayed on Broadway for months, broke records, won Tony awards, and then went on a nation tour. So, yes. She is a hero to me."

Puck shook his head. "You and Artie cheated. Your characters don't count."

"Who are you?" I asked Puck. He was wearing regular clothes.

"I'm the baddest superhero ever created." Puck paused as if that was enough explanation. When no one responded, Puck sighed. "I'm Wolverine."

I shrugged. "I don't see it."

"I told you to get more dressed up." Lauren said. "I'm Invisible Woman and I really wish I was invisible. I'm pregnant again."

There were three squeals immediately from Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina.

"Yes! I get to plan another baby shower!" Tina said ecstatically, clapping her hands.

Lauren groaned. "No! We already have four and don't sleep. I can't handle this."

Puck closed his eyes. "The moody boy and the triplets from hell."

Lauren pointed to her stomach. "This better be just one."

Everyone stood around, uncomfortable. We didn't know if they were serious or not. Mercedes rubbed her arm. "So…you guys aren't happy about this?"

Puck and Lauren looked at each other before saying, "Eh…"

Artie waved his arm in the air to get everyone's attention. "Okay, changing the topic…no one except Puck guessed who I was."

Everyone turned to Artie and looked at the suit he was wearing. Then in unison, we all guessed Professor X.

Artie frowned. "No! Get your minds off the wheelchair. I'm Doctor Who."

I shook my head. "Puck is right. That doesn't really count."

"I don't know about that. I think Doctor Who could be a hero."

Most of us turned around to see who had said that. It was Finn. He was helping a very pregnant Quinn walk over to our group.

Hold up!


I turned to Heather, whose eyes had bulged out of her head. "Don't do that. Don't talk nonchalantly about Quinn being pregnant. When did that happen?"

I nodded my head, impressed. "Nonchalantly? High five for a big word!"

I put my hand up for the high five but Heather did not reciprocate. She sat still. Her eyes were still bulging.

"Dad, Quinn is pregnant?"

I dropped my hand and nodded. Then the barrage of questions began.

"When? How far along is she? Did I miss something?" Heather flipped rigorously through her notebook.

I grabbed her hand. "I was about to get to that…"


"Q!" Mercedes said high pitched, while helping Quinn into a seat. "How far along are you? You're about to blow."

Quinn smiled, placing her hands on her stomach. "Eight months. I'm due in October."

"Enjoy it." Lauren said. "The third time around is hell."

Quinn's jaw dropped. "You're pregnant too?"

Lauren nodded. "Due in May. I can't believe that I have eight more months of this."

"You'll be fine." Tina said.

I interjected and looked at both Finn and Quinn. "What is it?"

Finn smiled and put his hand on Quinn's huge bump. "The doctor says it's a boy. I'm going to have a son."

Quinn shot Finn a loving smile. "We're thinking of naming him, Hayden."

"That's a beautiful name." Rachel said, sincerely. "Congratulations to you both."

Finn smiled and nodded.

Quinn smiled at Rachel. "Thank-you."

Puck interjected. "Finn, please do not name my nephew Hayden. He needs a strong, manly man like Joseph, Michael, or Kevin. A name that tells the other kids on the playground not to mess with him."

Quinn adjusted her red wig. "We're sticking with Hayden. Period."

Finn looked over his aviator sunglasses. "Where's the music at?"

"I got it." Puck said, walking over to the music station.

"Jean Grey and Cyclops?" Artie asked Quinn and Finn.

Quinn nodded. "Oh, Sam. Blaine and Kurt said that they're on their way. Spoiler alert. They're Batman and Robin."


"That was fun." I said, pressing the button that released my seat belt.

Mercedes nodded as she finished parking the car in the parking lot of my apartment complex. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

Mercedes released her seatbelt too. The she took my keys out the truck's ignition and handed them to me. She reached for her door handle. "Good night, Sam."

I grabbed her hand and ran my thumb over her knuckles. "You don't to go home."

Mercedes sighed. "I don't think spending the night with you is a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Sam, we still need to talk about before…I think you need to get some help."

I exhaled a low shush. "Later. Today was a good day. Can we just talk about it later?"

Mercedes stared forward. "You mean sweep your problems under a rug like they don't exist."

"For one night."

Mercedes looked at me out the corner of her eye. "I don't know."

I grinned. "Come on."

Mercedes tilted her head to look at me and then shook her head. "No. Don't look at me like that."

I smiled wider and leaned toward her. "Like what?"

Mercedes put a hand to my chest to stop me. "Fine. But we're just sleeping."

Then she sighed and mumbled, "Why does that smile always work on me?"

I kissed her hand. "Because you love it."


It was 3am and I still couldn't go to sleep. My sleep patterns had changed and sometime over the last two months, I had developed insomnia. I had slept all afternoon yesterday due to exhaustion.

I sat up and laid my head against the headboard. I looked over to see Mercedes sleeping peacefully next to me. I grew slightly envious as Mercedes' back heaved rhythmically up and down, wishing I could sleep.

I smiled back thinking about the few hours prior. When Mercedes said that we would just sleep, I honestly was going to comply. But after we kissed, one thing led to another and…


I paused and sighed.

Heather shook her head, "Birds and the Bees again, Dad?"

"Yes…we slept together. " I said slightly cringing on the inside. I couldn't believe that I had just admitted that to my daughter. "Maybe I should waited to tell this story when you were older."

"Dad, I'm 9." Heather retorted. "I'm practically an adult."

I laughed, because she was serious. "I'm going to just move on with the story…"


Plopping down on the couch in the living room, I turned the TV on. I thought maybe watching TV would help me sleep.

Flipping through the stations, there was nothing on TV to watch. It was 3:30 am and only thing on was infomercials.

I settled on ESPN and watched a rerun from earlier that day. For about 20 minutes, I listened to commentary about the status of different teams. My eyes began to grow heavy and sleep was finally within my grasp. Until I heard the three commentators say my name.

Commentator one said, "Alright. Next question. Okay, what do we think about Sam Evans being put into the hall of fame? Will it happen? Or will that dark cloud of steroid rumors prevent him."

Commentator three said, "This is a tough one."

Commentator two said, 'There is speculation around him. No matter how good some people think he was or is, they will never put him in the Hall of Fame. Sam Evans used steroids!'

'Allegedly', Commentator one added.

Commentator two said "Doesn't matter. No one really knows so he will never get that honor. Most people, including myself, think he did use them. Most people will never hold him to the same praises of other legendary quarterbacks."

Commentator three added, "But whenever he was tested, he was clean. And he always had denied using."

Commentator two shook his head, "He will never be in the hall of fame because Sam Evans is not good enough for it. Plus, the opinion of everyone outside Cleveland is that he is a mediocre player that got by on his looks and drugs." The commentator stared into the camera, "Sam Evans will never be in the hall of fame-"

I turned the TV off. I had heard enough.

Anger rose in me. I threw the remote. It hit the wall and black plastic pieces fall onto the carpet.

My breathing grew deep and fists clenched. I kicked the coffee table over and the anger still wasn't alleviated at all.

I was angry about my lack of life direction, people determined to ruin my reputation, Santana, and the world.

The feelings that I had tried to bottle in were coming to the surface. In order to feel better and help bottle the feelings again, I needed to get my hands on a more tangible bottle. There was a case of beer in my kitchen.

I had the urge to drink. Mercedes wouldn't be happy if I did…but I needed it. I resisted the urge because of her. But the longer I sat there, the stronger the urge became. It became too much.

I rationalized that one beer wouldn't hurt.

So I drink one beer. But that one led to another and another.

Before I knew it, it was 7:30 am. I was drunk and Mercedes was livid.

She stormed out.


Two weeks later, Mercedes hadn't returned my calls. Sitting on my bed, I looked at my cell phone. No missed calls. No returned calls.

I tossed the phone on the side of my bed that Mercedes had been in just weeks prior.

The door bell rang. I got up and walked into the living room. Hopefully, it was Mercedes with an explanation for why she had disappeared.

Opening the door, I didn't see Mercedes. Instead, it was the Wonder Twins with bags in their hands.

Stacy half-smiled, lifting the bags in her right hand. "We come bearing groceries. Mercedes said you probably didn't have any."

"Come in, guys." I said.

Stacy and Stevie walked past me and I closed the door. "You guys talked to Mercedes?"

"Yeah, man." Stevie said, putting the groceries away. "Sam, are you okay?"

"You've been in a funk, lately." Stacy added.

I ran a hand through my hair. I really didn't want to discuss this with my younger siblings. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

I flopped down on the couch and soon their two persistent teenagers sitting next to me. Stacy was on my left. Stevie was on my right.

"Sam, have you been drinking?" Stacy asked, in a quiet voice like it was a shameful, secret. Well, it was shameful, but not a secret to my family anymore.

"Mom is worried." Stevie said, sitting up straighter. His voice was louder, more authoritative. "So stop it now. Snap out of it."

I looked blankly at Stevie. "I'm the big brother here and I'm trying to stop." I sighed. "I'm trying for you, Stacy, mom, dad, and Mercedes."

"Sam."

I turned to see Stacy looking at me. Her eyes were pensive. "What about you? You can't do it for us. You have to do it for yourself. You have to save yourself."

Do it for myself? I thought. How could I do it for myself when I didn't have much self-worth these days…


It was October when Mercedes walked through my door again. She stood a few feet off to the side of the couch with her arms crossed.

I looked up from the couch. "Well…she is actually alive. It's been a month."

"I went to New York." Mercedes said. "I told you months ago that I had to go to New York to work on songs for my next album."

"A phone call would have been nice."

"I was angry with you."

I stood up. "So you just leave? But I guess that's the story of our relationship. Mercedes is always leaving."

Mercedes scoffed, "I thought it Sam was always pushing Mercedes away."

"Whatever. I told you to leave because I wanted what was best for you."

Mercedes sighed. She walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. I walked over and sat across from her.

Mercedes started, "Sam, I couldn't stand the sight of you destroying yourself." Mercedes inhaled deeply and her nose twitched. She looked into my eyes. "Are you drunk now?"

I averted her gaze. "It was just two."

Mercedes shook her head. "I don't believe you. How many?"

I remembered it being at least four since that afternoon, but I was too ashamed to admit it. "I don't want to answer that."

"Baby, you have a problem. You have to admit it to yourself."

"I don't have a problem." My anger was slowly rising. My ears twitched and I felt my face getting hot. "Don't say that."

Mercedes waved her hands with her palms facing me. "Forget it."

She dropped her hands. "Sam, I can't watch you destroy yourself. I don't understand this self-destructive behavior. So, you can't play football. It isn't the end of the world."

My eyes widened at the audacity of her words. "Not the end of the world? I thought of all people that you would understand. Football was my dream. My passion." I paused. "Mercedes, what if you woke up one morning and you couldn't sing. How would you feel?"

Mercedes looked to the side and frowned. The analogy seemed to have sunk in. "That would be a nightmare."

"I'm living my nightmare."

"But Sam." Mercedes reached across the table and grabbed my hands. "Football is so unpredictable. You knew it would have to end some day."

I pulled my hands away. "Not in my prime. I was being compared to legendary quarterbacks. I could have been great. I was just getting started. Now, I will never be able to be everything that I could have been. And everyone thinks that I use drugs. They think that I didn't deserve the MVP award or to even go to the Super Bowl."

"You need to talk to someone about your feelings."

"I'm talking to you."

"I can't help you with this."

I yelled, "You are so selfish!"

I had never yelled at Mercedes. That should have been another sign that something was wrong with me, but at the time, I didn't see it.

"Are you out of mind?" Mercedes asked. "Don't yell at me."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Several minutes passed and we didn't say anything.

Then, abruptly, Mercedes stood up and walked into the kitchen. Mercedes came back with a beer and slammed it in the middle of the table.

"Choose."

"What?"

Mercedes stared at me. "This is an ultimatum. You have to choose now. The bottle or me. And I swear Sam, if you pick the bottle, I walking out the door and I am never coming back."

I leaned back, stunned. "Are you serious? You're supposed to help me. You're supposed to stick through hard times. For better or worse."

"We're not married."

"Maybe it was a good thing that we didn't get married."

I immediately regretted the words when I saw the look of hurt of Mercedes' face. I reached out for her hands. "'Cedes, I'm sorry-"

Mercedes ripped her hands away from mine. "Don't touch me! You've been so evil and depressed all the time. If you won't stop drinking for me, please stop for yourself. You have a problem."

"Stop saying that!"

Mercedes slammed the beer again. "Choose me or your problem!"

"Maybe you're my problem."

Mercedes let go of the beer and stepped back, shocked. "What did you say to me?"

"Sam-" Her voice took on a more warning tone. "You need to stop right now or you're going to lose me. You're going to lose a future with me. No house. No dog. No kids! We're going to lose our dream because I wouldn't-"

"I don't want it!" I yelled. Anger and a drunken haze overtook my sanity and affection for Mercedes. "It's such an emotional rollercoaster with you. You can keep the dream. I don't want to marry you. Or have a house or dog. I definitely don't want kids with you. And I don't want to see you again."

I could see a clear sheen in her eyes and I felt this weird mix of anger and guilt. I wanted to comfort her but my pride wouldn't let me.

"Emotional Rollercoaster?" Mercedes took a deep, jagged breath and I thought she was going to cry. But it wasn't tears that came from Mercedes' face.

Mercedes ran to the kitchen and grabbed the trash can. She ripped off the lid and vomited.

I had officially reached a new low. My urge to comfort her finally beat out my pride.

Walking over to her, I saw Mercedes rub her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

I touched the back of her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Mercedes turned around and slapped me. "No. I never want to see you again. You make me sick."

Mercedes grabbed her purse from the chair and stormed out of my apartment. She left me with a burning face and broken heart.

I sat back down and tried to figure out what had happened. I was alone in my apartment with a beer that taunted me. A beer that I would never touch.

I leaned back and said the words that I should have said when she first walked in.

"Mercedes, I have a problem."


"When was the last time you bathed?"

Mike asked, standing in front of my TV.

I shrugged as I lay across the couch. "How did you get into my apartment?"

"Mercedes gave me her key." Mike said. "What did you say to her? She seemed really upset."

"Is she gone?"

Mike frowned and nodded. "Yeah, she decided to move back to California after her meetings in New York."

It had been three weeks since Mercedes stormed out. My drinking had gotten worse, because I had tried to stop before for Mercedes. I had drunk before but I had been apprehensive. Now that she was gone, so was my apprehension.

I reached into the case of beer next to me. "Well, I guess I screwed up."

Mike continued to frown, "Stop drinking."

"Why?" I asked. "I lost football and Mercedes. What else is there?"

"Your family and friends. Yourself." Mike said. "When are you going to stop?"

"Until I drink $25 million dollars worth."

Mike walked around the coffee table and grabbed the case of beer. "Stop."

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving you." Mike said. "You're moving in with Tina and me. We don't trust you to live by yourself. I refuse to walk over here one day and find you passed out…or overdosed."

Mike walked in the kitchen and threw the case in the trash. He walked back to living room and stared at me.

His tone was somber. "Sam…Tina thinks you may have depression. And you're using alcohol as a way to medicate your problems."

I rolled my eyes. "Tina has been a nurse for all of a day and she thinks that she can diagnose me."

"Watch it. That's my girlfriend." Mike warned. "But I think she's right. You said that you can't sleep, you've been having feelings of worthlessness, and drinking…Mercedes said that you yelled at her. That doesn't sound like you."

I sat up and I saw that stupid beer bottle. It was still in the center of my kitchen table. I hadn't touched it.

"What should I do?" I asked.

"Move in with Tina and me. Tina is a nurse and I can offer moral support." Mike said. "Then you're going to meet with a psychiatrist."

I sighed. "Fine. But I have to do one thing before I leave."

"What?"

I stood up and walked into my kitchen. I stared at the lone beer bottle that had become some stupid, sick symbol of my drinking problem. It had cost me Mercedes, but I wouldn't lose myself to it.

I picked the bottle up with a tight grip.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

I swung my arm back and threw the beer hard against the wall. The glass smashed. Brown specks of glass along with alcoholic liquid covered the floor. That felt good.

"What the hell, Sam?"

I shrugged. "I'm ready to go."


It was January and I had been diagnosed with depression. I had stopped drinking, but without the drinking, my depression was an all time high. Puck had picked me up from my appointment and we were driving back to Mike and Tina's place.

"How did it go?" Puck asked.

"Alright. The doctor just kept staring and asking questions." I shrugged. "I don't know what to make of it."

Puck sighed. "Maybe some music will help."

Puck reached radio dial and turned up the volume.

Prince's 'Purple Rain' was playing. After a few more songs, the DJ cut the music off.

"Okay, y'all. We got a new song that just dropped today. A song by Mercedes Jones. It's called Emotional Rollercoaster. I don't know who she is singing about, but this guy sure did a number on her. But I 'm just glad that she dropped a new song. There was a lot of disappointment among fans when she cancelled her tour. We were owed a new song."

"Wow." Puck said in disbelief.

I banged my head against the head rest. "I can't believe she wrote a song."

Song lyrics filled the car.

Last night I cried, tossed and turned
Woke up with dry eyes
My mind was racing, feet were pacing
Lord, help me please, tell me what I have gotten into

I'm on an emotional rollercoaster
Lovin' you ain't nothin' healthy
Lovin' you was never good for me

But I can't get off

I turned the radio off. I couldn't take it.

"What the hell happened with you and Mercedes?" Puck asked.

"Nothing." I said gruffly. My life had gone to shit and it didn't seem like it was going to get better. I let out a jagged sigh.

"Oh hell no."

Puck pulled the car over abruptly and I grabbed the dashboard to stabilize myself.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Are you crying?"

"No." I asked indignantly, honestly.

"Get out my car."

"What?"

"You heard me."

I opened the door and slapped it behind me. After my feet touched the shoulder of the road, I started walking forward. I didn't even take ten steps before my face hit the ground. Spitting dirt out, I looked up to Puck standing over me.

I jumped to my feet. "Are you crazy?"

Puck shoved me again. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Don't test me, Puck."

"The first push was for Mercedes. For whatever you said." Puck shoved me again. "Now, I'm your life, Sam. I'm pushing you. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't need cheap psychology from you. It's not that simple."

"Yes it is. You are more than football. You're stronger than this." Puck shoved me again and I was growing tired of it. "Fight back."

"Stop."

"No." Puck shoved. "Fight for your stupid, meaningless life."

"My life isn't meaningless."

"Now, we're getting somewhere. But you have to take control of your life, Sam." Puck said. "You've got a choice. You can beat this depression or you can keep it. You can fight or you can live and die this way."

The severity of his words hit me. The idea of feeling this way for the rest of my life was unimaginable. It couldn't happen. It wouldn't happen.

I fought back.

I shoved Puck with enough force to knock him down.

"Ow." Puck said getting up. He rubbed his side. "That one was a freebie. If you ever push me down like that again, I will kick your ass."

"Thank-you, Puck."

"That's what friends are for."


It was April and I was taking it one day at a time. I had slipped up and had a beer a few weeks ago. But I had been good since then and was going to therapy regularly. Mike and Tina had to leave the city to take care of a sick relative. It was good timing, because I planned on moving out. I could take care of myself. I brought a house in Cleveland.


It was about mid-May when I got a frantic call from Puck.

"Sam! This is not a drill! I repeat this is not a drill! Lauren is going into labor and my car wouldn't start."

Puck had gone through the labor process three times before. One would think that he would be used to it and a little more calm.

"Call an ambulance?"

"I can't leave my kids alone."

I nodded even though he couldn't see it through the phone. "I'll be there in five minutes."

I went to my garage and got into the SUV that I had brought a year ago. I had only gotten to drive it twice, because I always just used my car. But the SUV was the only vehicle big enough for Puck's family.

I got to their house quickly and the Puckerman family was already waiting outside.

Puck helped his family into the back seat. He walked to the driver's side.

"Give me the keys."

"What?"

"No offense, but I can't risk my family. Have you been drinking?"

"No." I answered honestly.

Puck studied my face for a moment before giving me a quick nod. He believed me.


Puck and Lauren were rushed into the delivery room. I sat in the waiting room, watching their four kids.

"Uncle Sam…" Zack said in a quiet voice. "I'm scared."

"Everything is going to be fine, Zack." I said, trying to comfort him. "You should be happy. You're about to get a little sister."

"Another one?" One of the triplets asked.

I laughed. "Yeah, another one."

"I'm bored." Another triplet added.

I scratched the back of my head. How do you entertain four little kids? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guitar case next to a woman reading a magazine. I hadn't played guitar since college. I had quit guitar club in order to focus on football.

I stared at that guitar and it hit it. I had an idea.

After the getting permission from the woman, I played a few songs for the kids. To my surprise, they really enjoyed it.

Soon, it was about 9 pm and the kids were asleep on the couch. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see an elderly woman.

She smiled. "You are really good with kids. You must have kids of your own."

I shook my head. "No, ma'am."

"Oh." She said. "I guess that parental instinct just comes naturally to some people."

"Umm…thank-you." I said as she walked away.

"Sam!"

I stood up.

Puck ran toward me and grabbed my shoulders. He was overcome with joy. "She's beautiful."

"The baby? What's her name?"

"Katy. Her name is Katy Puckerman."


"Katy!" Heather said. She seemed excited that her best friend had entered the story. A best friend that Heather had practically grown up with. "I didn't know that you were at the hospital when Katy was born."

I nodded. "I was. Puck and Lauren were really excited about her being born. But I think Lauren was a little more happy that she wasn't pregnant anymore."

Heather smiled. "Okay, so what happens next?"

"Well…"


During that night at the hospital, I had realized my calling. I wanted to be a psychologist. I wanted to study child development and counseling psychology. So, I enrolled back into college and it became my primary focus. My life was just school for the next year. I stopped going to therapy, because my depression gone. The psychiatrist said that therapy was no longer necessary. I could finally drink again. I could drink and control myself. I could have a drink and there would be no internal urge to have another.

I was 24 and my life was finally together. I had a singular focus on my studies.

I had been in school so much that I hadn't had time to read my mail. So one Saturday in May 2018, I decided to go through my huge stack of mail. And I had two letters from Quinn. I read the earliest one first. It was from April.

Dear Sam,

I'm so glad to hear that you're doing better. Finn and I were really worried about you. Anyway, I hope you write or call us soon. Our baby has gotten so big and already walking. I know that we have this weird tradition of passing the promise necklace back and forth, but I can't this time. The baby has grown really attached to it and I can't bear to take it away.

I've debated on whether to include this part of the letter, but Finn has been acting strange lately. He has been distant and quiet. I try to talk to him but he just shuts off even more. Do you know what is wrong with him? I know you two are close and talk a lot.

Sincerely,

Quinn

I closed the letter. I laughed just imaging Finn avoiding Quinn. He was a horrible liar and that was probably the reason he was avoiding her. He didn't want to spoil a surprise trip to Paris that he had been saving up for. Finn had told me about renting a plane so the getaway would resemble the ending of Quinn's favorite movie, Casablanca.

I looked down at the other letter. I smiled. I was happy for Finn and Quinn, but I was a little jealous. Mercedes and I were supposed to have that, but I ruined it.

I wondered where she was and how she was doing. I didn't have the courage to contact her. Mercedes said that she never wanted to see me again…that was how it had been. She was probably better without me, but I still missed her. I had never stopped loving her. I found that insane. After everything that happened, there was still nothing that would make me happier than seeing Mercedes walking through my door.

I looked at my phone. Again, I thought about calling her. What did I have to lose? At this moment, I really needed some courage. I needed some audacity that wasn't inside of me.

I sighed and I heard the phone ring. My heart was in my throat as I flagged off the ridiculous idea that I had mentally willed Mercedes to call me.

I put the second letter into my pocket, before picking up the phone.

I instantly became worried after I heard sobs.

Kurt was crying. "Sam, something bad happened. We need you to come to the Lima Medical Hospital's Emergency Room."


Okay, so this chapter was hard to write, because I wanted to paint an accurate picture of depression. Hopefully, I did.

Also, sorry that this chapter had so much angst, but it was a part of the story.

Anyway, the mom is revealed in the next chapter.

What did you guys think?