I raise my fist up to knock on the door even though Shelby texted me a few minutes ago and told me to just come inside because she has the door unlocked. Something about just barging into someone's house has always unsettled me and even though she gave me permission to do it, I'll feel better if I knock. So I tap on the door three times, then I twist the doorknob and enter. She told me to be here at five instead of my usual time at four, so I hope I don't walk in to Beth sleeping or cranky from waking up from a nap.
But it's like I just walked into the middle of a tornado.
Shelby's place is usually always very neat. Everything has its place here and everything is always in said place. But today, there are bottles overflowing from the sink, the can of formula is still on the counter with the lid off, a basket of baby clothes is on the loveseat, four or five dishtowels are making a trail on the floor from the kitchen to the bathroom door, and I have to step over a mess of shoes when I get into the door. It looks like a bomb went off in here or something.
"Is that you, Quinn?" Shelby calls from her bedroom, not too far away from where I stand in the kitchen.
"Yeah," I call back and shrug out of my jacket. I'd hate to add to any of her mess, so I hang it up on the coat rack even though hers have all fallen to the floor. "Is everything okay?" I ask, kicking my shoes off beside the pile of hers.
"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm just running a little late," she jogs into the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.
Only when I walk a little further inside do I notice my girl. She's sitting in the middle of the living room rug with a wooden block in her hand, but she doesn't seem very interested in it. She's just looking all around, taking in the sight of her mommy trying to hurry up and get dressed. Even she looks a mess today, just like the house. Shelby usually has her all dolled up. She's usually wearing some sort of dress with little baby leggings or tights or a really cute shirt with matching pants. And her hair is always brushed. Shelby usually parts it on the left side and brushes it down and lets her curls fluff up in the back. But sitting there in the middle of the rug, she has one sock on, the other is laying by the couch. She has on a t-shirt that's at least two sizes too big for her, and it's not even buttoned between her legs like onesies should be. And her hair is a hot mess.
What is going on today?
"Hi," I make my voice soft as I kneel down next to her. "Hi, baby girl. What's going on? Huh? What's up? I haven't seen you in a little while. I missed you." I start by rubbing her chubby little arm and she doesn't seem to mind. She just looks at my hand touching her arm and sighs.
"So here's the deal," Shelby comes bounding into the living room, still tying her hair up in a ponytail. "I'm so sorry about the mess, I haven't had the chance to clean today. Beth's already had a bath today, but she's been going to the bathroom a lot and it's been really runny and explosive and if you go to change her and it's all up her back again, you can give her another bath. She isn't feeling well today, so I'm going to try and get my lessons done as fast as possible. I hate to leave her with you when she's so sick, but I already cancelled for trick or treating last week and if I cancel again, I'm sure my one kid's mother will be finding him a new voice teacher, so."
"It's okay," I shake my head and sit down directly next to Beth. I find that she freaks out a little less when I don't come on super strong. She doesn't freak out so much whenever I ease her into my presence. "You go and do what you have to do. I'll be here, she'll be safe. Don't feel like you need to rush."
"You're the best, Quinn," Shelby shoves her feet into shoes and yanks a jacket onto her body. "Just try to make sure she drinks a lot of that Pedialyte I have in the fridge, and if she wants to sleep all evening, that's okay. Let her sleep."
"Got it."
"I should be home around 8-8:30."
"No problem."
"Okay, I'll see you," she slips out of the door without even saying bye to Beth, which she usually does so I know today must be a really rough one. She seems so overwhelmed and under so much stress. I know I only watch Beth for a few hours in the evening and it's only so she can go to work and make some extra money to keep the bills paid, but I wish there was more I can do to help her out.
When the door closes behind Shelby, I'm already expecting Beth's little face to crack up and her mouth to open and for the cries to come out because she always cries when Shelby leaves. But this time — and I don't know if it's only because she's sick and not feeling well or what — but this time, there are no tears and no sad faces made. My baby girl just looks over her shoulder at the door, watches as it closes, then looks down at the floor. Her bottom lip slides out from underneath her top lip as she pokes it out and her mouth is in a cute little frown, but she doesn't cry.
"Yeah, she'll be back," I put my hand on her back to comfort her even though she doesn't really need it. "She always comes back, doesn't she?"
What she does next really surprises me because I genuinely never thought I'd see the day where she actually wanted me. I thought that I would be watching Beth every Wednesday and Thursday for the next few years and I'd just be a babysitter that she has to deal with. I don't know if I ever expect for Shelby to tell her who I am and I don't know if she'll ever put two and two together and ask. But I never truly expected that I would be someone that Beth actually wants to see and get to know. So it's needless to say that I am shocked and surprised when her little arms reach out and up at me, like she's asking me to pick her up.
And even when I pick her up, she doesn't cry. There's no tears and flailing of the limbs and screaming. I just pick her up and my god it feels like I'm holding that missing piece of my heart in my hands. I don't know how to describe it, but it's like I feel whole again, which is a very big deal. Every time I hold her, I remember that this little human is a piece of me and who I am as a person. She looks exactly like me, she feels exactly like me and I am so glad that I made someone like her. It's kind of amazing when I think about the fact that she grew inside of me. And I know that Shelby loves her, I will never take that away from her. But it's hard to imagine that Shelby could love her this much.
She nestles her face into my neck and I can't help but feel like this is what it was supposed to be all along. And it's dangerous territory to allow my thoughts to wander off into this place, but I really can't help myself. I really can't help but wonder what it would be like if I did this. Mom would be in love with her, I already know that. Mom loved her the moment she met her and I still don't believe she has fully forgiven me for letting Shelby adopt her. Mom would watch her while I went to school during the day and during Glee club in the afternoon. Then I'd get home and she'd be my girl for the rest of the night. I'd get into the shower with her against my body or sit in a bath with her, too. And I'd rub all that little baby lotion on her perfect little skin before putting her into pajamas. And Mom would probably be the strict one saying that she needs to be on a schedule and asleep before 7:00, but I'd take her to my room and shut the door and just love on her until she was tired enough to fall asleep. She could have easily been my girl. I could have easily done it.
But then she'd be raised by the great Judy Fabray like me and god knows how bad that would mess her poor, sweet, innocent little self up. Unless…
I smile to myself at the thought of us living with the Joneses. I can see it now. Every day when me and Mercedes came home from school, Mrs. Jones would have her in the kitchen with her while she cooked and she'd be singing and Beth would be smiling. Or Mr. Jones would have her hanging out in the recliner with him and they'd be watching The Simpsons while Mr. Jones doled out those little melt in your mouth yogurt bites made for babies. He'd eat three for every one that Beth ate and the two of them would be best buddies. Even Whitney and Bobby would be protective of her. I can hear Whitney barking at anyone who came close to her and Bobby growling at anyone who dares to touch her. God, Beth would have had such a great life with the Joneses. It would've just been all of us and it would have been such a great way for her to grow up, surrounded by all that creativity and unwavering love and support.
With her face all snuggled up into my neck, Beth has started to fall asleep, so I grab a blanket off the floor and wrap it around her before I lie down on the couch with her on my chest and grab the remote. I don't know if Shelby would care that I hold her while she sleeps. I know most moms usually have a problem with that because they say it spoils the baby, but me and Shelby have never really discussed that and quite frankly, I hope we never do. I like to hold Beth while she sleeps. I like to feel the weight of her against my chest and the way her body moves when she breathes. I like to feel connected to my girl the same way I felt when she was inside of me.
As I turn on the TV, Beth stuffs her middle finger and her ring finger into her mouth and starts to suck on them. She moves her head slightly to the side, between my boobs, and closes her eyes so she can go to sleep. And after I kiss the top of her little head, I pick up my phone and open up me and Rachel's text thread.
iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
5:24 p.m.
ME: hey.
ME: so i'm officially un-grounded and i have my phone and my car back. i got them both back after school. so yay!
After I send the next to Rachel, I lock my phone back up and sift through the channels to find something interesting to watch for as long as my girl is asleep. I settle on an old rerun of Maury, an episode about some girls not knowing who their baby daddies are. I know I shouldn't watch this crap on TV, but I'm a sucker for it. I watch entirely too much trashy reality TV and talk shows.
And I'm able to watch the show and concentrate on the show for about ten minutes before the fact that she hasn't answered me back yet starts to infiltrate my thoughts. I'm a little worried because Rachel usually texts me back really fast but it's been ten minutes, so what the hell? Is she definitely ignoring me?
iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
5:35 p.m.
ME: are you mad at me or something?
I send the next message and try to focus on the TV again, try to get her out of my thoughts. The episode is over when my phone finally buzzes, though.
New iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
6:06 p.m.
RACHEL: Hey sorry. Me and Kurt just got out of a show. We went to go watch VA perform so we can size up the competition for regionals and I turned my phone off during.
6:07 p.m.
ME: it's ok.
Except, it's really not okay. It's frustrating, actually. It's so frustrating that I can feel my girlfriend and the person I love literally drifting away from me. I can feel the distance growing between us and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I don't want to be that mean girlfriend who says she can't hang out with her friends, but what about me? She's just hanging out and hanging out and hanging out with Kurt and if it's not Kurt then it's Finn and we're drifting apart and I don't know how in the world I'm supposed to stop it. What if I lose her? Then what am I going to do? She's the only good thing in my life…
New iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
6:39 p.m.
RACHEL: What are you doing?
RACHEL: How was your day?
See what I mean?! She takes half an hour to text me back all of a sudden when she usually only takes maybe a minute or two! Something is definitely wrong!
I hate myself for thinking this way, I really do. But I just know that she's still with him and I don't want her to be. I don't want her to be with Kurt. I want her to be with me. I want her to be lying on the couch like I am and I want her to just be texting me and only me. I want her to care about me and only me. I know it's selfish, I know it's controlling, I know it's unhealthy. I know she's allowed to have friends. But I want her. She's my girlfriend and I don't get all of her time then who does? I don't want to control her, I don't want to tell her who she can and cannot talk to but I just want her to talk to me! Stop taking so long to text me back… I'm more important than Kurt… aren't I?
iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
6:41 p.m.
ME: i'm over shelbys watching beth.
ME: want to join us?
6:42 p.m.
RACHEL: No.
6:42 p.m.
ME: why not?
ME: is something wrong between us? did i do something to piss you off?
And then it's radio silence all over again. 6:42 turns to 6:43 and 6:43 turns to 6:44. And before I know it, it's 7:00 and it feels like an eternity since we've talked. And I know I'm being selfish, I'm going to keep saying that. I know, okay? But she shouldn't be able to treat me like this. She shouldn't be able to just pick and choose when she wants to talk to me and text me and she shouldn't be able to just ignore me. I mean, I'd probably still be pretty upset if she did this, but it takes NO time at all to just tell me that she's going to be replying a little sketchy because she's still with Kurt. It's all about Kurt anymore. It's never about us. It's just not fair. It's not fair at all. She's my girlfriend. Why do I have to compete for her?
iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
7:04 p.m.
ME: look idk what's going on but i'm starting to think that you don't care.
And there's still nothing after ten minutes and I see that she actually turned her read receipts off all of a sudden when she usually has them on for me. And I'm starting to get really, really mad now.
iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
7:14 p.m.
ME: well if you even care, i'll be over shelbys until quarter to 9. if you care though.
I lock my phone again and put it on the arm of the sofa, and that's when it really starts to set in. I think I lost my girlfriend. I think I officially lost the only thing that has been keeping me going lately. How could she do this to me? How could she just shut me out without even talking to me first? We could have worked this out. We could have easily worked this out and talked it through but she just keeps shutting me out. She keeps shutting me out and turning to her friends instead of me and now I feel lost. I feel lost without her and sad and I just want her back.
I know things changed after we had sex. After we had sex, things were really good for a minute and then they just… weren't. I thought having sex with her was going to change everything in a good way, but now I think it changed everything in a bad way. We had sex and now everything is falling apart and what used to be the best experience of my life is now the worst and it's all because having sex with her changed everything. I just don't understand where everything went wrong. How did it all fall apart? What did I do? What did I —
Before I can finish that thought and get too deep inside my own head and make myself too depressed, Beth suddenly twitches against my chest and it kind of feels like she just had a miniature seizure or something because her movement was extremely jerky. I lift my head up slightly to make sure she's okay, but she starts to cry after jerking like that, so I sit completely up to see if I can figure out what's wrong with her.
As soon as I sit up though, I feel it. It's hot and it's runny and it's all over my shirt. And right after I feel it… I start to smell it.
Please tell me she didn't...
I slowly peel the blanket away from her sweaty little body just to make sure I'm actually right and actually smelling what I think I'm smelling, and not surprised when I see that it is exactly what I thought it was. She went all over the blanket and now it's dripping onto my shirt and oh my god, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do next. Do I… do I clean it up first? Do I pick her up? If I pick her up, it might drip down onto Shelby's rug and it looks like a rug too expensive to get baby poop all over it. And god, it smells horrible…. it smells so horrible…
I really don't know what else to do, so I keep her body against mine and keep the blanket against her too so that it doesn't drip onto the floor or anything, and I nearly run to the bathroom with her in my arms. I still haven't figured out exactly what I'm supposed to do, so I just pull the shower curtain back and put Beth — blanket and all — into the little plastic baby tub. And while I think all of this through and think about what I should do next, I grab the baby wipes off the back of the toilet tank and scrub my shirt clean. She didn't get it all over me as much as I thought she did. There's only maybe one or two drops and it's nothing serious.
But while I'm turned around and trying to clean myself off as I come up with a game plan, my girl sucks in a very deep breath… and she starts crying her little eyes out. Crying hard, too. Crying like she's miserable and in pain and needs someone to help her or something. And when I turn around, my heart kind of sinks down into my stomach because all I see is my precious baby with her arms outstretched to me, begging for me to pick her up and hold her.
"Shh baby, it's okay," I kneel down beside the bathtub and start taking her blanket and her soiled clothes off. "It's okay, baby. It's okay."
I put all her clothes onto the rug beside me, carefully wrapping them into the blanket so it doesn't make a mess all over Shelby's bathroom. When I take her diaper off, I take it off inside the bathtub and wrap it up so it doesn't spill everywhere and put it on top of the blanket so I don't forget to put it inside a plastic bag before I throw it away. And I know Shelby said that she's been going to the bathroom all day, but her butt is really red. It's like, really red. So red that maybe I should put something on it? Like diaper rash cream or something? Maybe some kind of ointment? Or powder? Something?
"I know, I know," I try to console her because she's still crying as I'm running the bath water and cleaning her off with my hands instead of a rag for now. I just don't want to get it all caked inside of a rag and then have to use that rag to wash her body off with, so doing the initial rinse with my hands seems like the best way to do. And after she's as clean as I can get her with my own hands, that's when I let the tub fill up with water and start washing her with soap on the washcloth.
I wash her up fast, too. Fast because she's still whimpering for me to hold her and I'm not strong enough to deny my baby girl any hugs or kisses, so I want to be as fast as possible for her. But when I turn around to get her towel out of the cabinet, she makes this weird noise and so I turn back around and that's when I see that she just threw up inside the water.
"Oh no," I mumble and scoop her up out of the water before it gets on her or anything. As soon as she's back in my arms, her head goes back on my shoulder and she puts her hand against my chest.
Dangerous territory again, I know. But I think if I had kept her, I'd have nursed her. Back when I was pregnant and didn't know if was keeping her or not, the idea of my boobs filling up with milk for a baby to drink really just freaked me out. I mean seriously, the idea of having her just latched onto my boob every time she wanted to eat or milking myself like a cow really just made my skin crawl. But after I had her, I understood why women choose to do that sometimes and when the nurse asked me if I wanted to practice latching her, I just started crying and my mom had to tell them that I wasn't keeping her. In hindsight, I think the weirdest part about giving her to Shelby was how my body changed after. I went home from the hospital and I tried to make everything feel normal again and there were times when I succeeded. There were times where I was lucky enough to forget about the fact that I just had a baby but then my boobs would leak and then I remembered that my body still thought there was a baby for me to feed.
It's not a healthy way for me to think and maybe I'll talk about it on Saturday when I see Bailey again, but I'm starting to catch myself pretending like this is how it's been all along. Pretending like this quaint, chic little apartment actually belongs to me. Pretending like she's my baby and I don't have to share her with anybody else. She's all naked and exposed as she's laying against my body, but she's content to just listen to the sound of me breathing with her hand on my chest feeling my heart beating, and I just really feel like her mother.
I really don't want to give up this moment. I wish I could stay right here with my sweet baby, still damp and laying on me. But I don't want her to have another accident all over me and I really need to get a diaper on her before that happens, so I have to take her off my shoulder and lay her down on the changing table.
It's a weird feeling to be so torn. Because as she's laying there on the changing table, about to cry because I put her down and looking at me with those pretty little eyes, it's pure instinct the way I grab the Desitin from the side pouch next to the diapers. It's like my body is on autopilot or something and I don't have to think about how to take care of my baby, because I just stick my finger down into thick, pasty cream and start rubbing it on her butt and private parts.
But then I stop right in the middle of it because what if Shelby doesn't want diaper rash cream on her? And that's so weird to me, because on one hand, I feel like I'm her mother and I call the shots when I'm taking care of her. Except, I'm not her mother. At least not whenever it counts. And that's very confusing to me.
I strap a diaper on her and pick her back up and I thought about putting another t-shirt on her or something, but I don't think I'm going to do that because she's just going to have a mess all over it again and it'll only add to all the laundry Shelby has to do. When I pick Beth up again, she touches her hand against my cheek for a second, then moves over to grab my nose.
"Nose," I say to her. "That's my nose. That's Mama's nose. Your nose looks like that, too."
She huffs and her head goes right back down to my shoulder, but she keeps her hand against my nose and I know it sounds crazy. I know it sounds like I'm delusional and I'm losing it or something, but I swear I can feel how she feels. I swear I can. It's like there's a string attached to my heart and to hers too and every time she feels something, I can feel it too. I can feel her telling me that she loves me.
Shelby told me to try and get her to drink some Pedialyte, so I carry her into the kitchen and pour a little into a bottle, but she doesn't lift her head and seem real interested in drinking any, so I don't really force her to.
With her hand now on my lips, I can still feel her telling me that she loves me… and I hope she can feel how much I love her too. I love her so much that I don't even care when I feel something warm, running down the front of my shirt and seeping into my bra. It's just throw up this time, so I don't really rush to wipe it off. I just head back for the bathroom where I saw the last container of wipes and decide to wipe it up with that.
But before I can get to the bathroom, there's a series of knocks on the door and I'm hoping that it's Shelby so my baby can get some help. I want it to be Shelby so that she can get some kind of medicine to make her feel better and stuff, but I already know that it's not. I already know that it's Rachel. I haven't checked my phone so I don't know if she ever texted me back, but I have a feeling that it's her. So I just go and unlock the door for her and stand there waiting for her to come in.
"Can you take her real quick?" I ask, handing Beth to her before she even shuts the door. She doesn't have a chance to protest before I'm walking away, in search of wipes to clean the vomit off myself.
"Hi Bethy," I hear Rachel cooing at her from inside the bathroom and it's really helping to make me less mad at her. "Where are your clothes, girl? You're nakers. Why are you nakers?"
I gather everything that she soiled up off the bathroom floor and strut back into the living room. "She's not feeling well and she's pooping all over her clothes so I'm just not going to put them on her," I explain, talking under my breath. As soon as Beth sees me again, she's holding her arms out for me and she starts crying.
"Here, take her," Rachel hands her back to me. "I'll finish cleaning up. I'm gonna go get the thermometer."
"You think she's running a fever?"
"She feels a little hot."
Beth stops crying as soon as she's back in my arms and I press my lips to her forehead. She's so sick and I feel so bad that I can't do anything about it. I wonder if Shelby feels like this. I wonder if she ever wishes that she can be sick for her, because that's how I feel. I feel like I wish I could just take all her sickness away and absorb it myself.
Rachel comes back with the thermometer in tow, and Beth is just kinda limp as she shoves it underneath her armpit. "Is it the stomach flu or something?"
"I don't know. I got here and Shelby said she's been having diarrhea all day. She didn't say anything about her throwing up, but she's been throwing up since I got here." I stroke her soft curls as we wait for the thermometer to read a result.
"Did you call Shelby? Did you tell her she's been throwing up?"
"I can handle it, Rachel," I don't mean to, but it's on instinct the way I kinda turn Beth away from Rachel. It's not like I think she's actually going to take Beth away from me, but my body feels like she might take Beth away from me. "I can handle my own baby."
"Alright, I was just asking," she pulls the thermometer from under Beth's armpit when it beeps. "It's 101.2."
"So what — what should I do? Should I put her in a cold bath? Should I feed her like, ice cubes or something?" That's a high fever, isn't it? That's high… I mean for a normal human it's pretty low grade but she's a baby. She's just a baby, she's not even eight months old yet, that's a pretty big fever. What do I do? Is she gonna die? I heard babies can die if their fevers get high. Rachel walks away from where me and Beth are standing, and I'm really just even more mad at her because how can she leave me if I'm freaking out like this?! "Rachel, what do we do?!"
"First, you calm down." When she comes back into the living room with us, she's shaking a bottle of purple liquid and I turn away from her with Beth again.
"What is that? I don't — I don't know about that I don't know if we should give her anything she's been throwing up and she's probably dehydrated she won't drink and she won't keep it down anyway so maybe we shouldn't and plus she's only seven months old and I don't even think they make doses that small see if you read the box I'm pretty sure you're only supposed to give Tylenol to babies who are like two or something and we don't know how much she weighs and she —"
"Quinn, chill out," Rachel puts her hand up at me as she eyeballs the syringe very closely. "It's just baby Tylenol and we're just giving her half the recommended dose. We need to get her fever to break. Trust me."
"But what if she doesn't take it? What if she spits it out and —" I look down and watch as Rachel eases the syringe inside her mouth. And Beth sucks on it while Rachel squirts it into her mouth like she's a professional. How did she do that? "T-That's it? That's it? She took her medicine? That's it?"
"That's it," Rachel rinses the syringe off in the sink and puts the bottle of Tylenol on the counter. "Your mommy senses are really tingling today."
"Should we tell Shelby? That we gave her medicine? Should we tell her?"
"I'll text her and let her know that she has a fever and we gave her Tylenol to get it to break," she dries her hands on the only clean dish towel around and leans against the kitchen island. "...So what was that text message all about? That whole 'if I care'? What did that mean?"
"Nothing, I shake my head and sway side to side with Beth as she starts to fall asleep. "I was just freaking out because Beth's sick."
"I know when you're lying, Quinn. You get this real weird look in your eyes and you're not very good at it. So why don't you just tell me what you meant? And don't say nothing, because it sure felt like you meant something."
"I just…" I sigh and put my sleeping baby on the couch with a fresh blanket covering her. "I just feel like I haven't talked to you in a while. It felt like you abandoned me all week to hang out with Kurt and it just… I don't know, it just started to feel like we aren't together anymore."
Rachel grips the sides of the island and puts her head down like she's frustrated with me and see, this is where she makes me mad. She asks me to be honest and to tell her how I really feel and to tell her what I mean when I say things, but them she gets mad when I tell her. It's like I can't win.
"You are WAY overreacting," she picks her head up and shakes it at me. "There you go with the jealousy again and I can't stand it. I knew you were gonna get mad if I told you I was hanging out with Kurt all week while you were grounded and that's the whole reason why I didn't even want to tell you."
"Okay then, fine," I throw my hands up in the air. "Fine. I'll never tell you how I feel ever again. I will NEVER tell you how something that you do makes me feel. Never again. Not if you're going to ask me how I feel and then make me feel like I'm crazy for telling you the truth."
"So you're mad that I left you alone all week?!"
"I'm not mad, I'm upset! I'm just —"
"So you're upset that I left you alone all week? Quinn, you were grounded! Like hardcore grounded! What did you want me to do?!"
"Not ignore me! Maybe I was grounded but that doesn't explain why you ignored me in Glee club! You were stuck so far up Kurt's ass that you didn't even realize —"
"You think I liked staying away from you for a week?! You think that was my choice!?"
"Well it sure seemed like it!"
"You're so full of it, Quinn. You're so full of it that your eyes are brown," she turns away from me and shakes her head. "...I stayed away because I love you. I stayed away because ever since you started living with Mercedes, you've been GREAT. I've seen you smile and I've noticed that you're just all around doing better as a whole and I didn't want you to mess that up by seeing and talking to me. You were grounded, I didn't want to mess up your life, so I stayed away. That's all. It was nothing more than that, it was nothing less. And by staying away for a week, I reconnected with my best friend. My best friend, who's been feeling like I abandoned him ever since I got involved with you. The world doesn't revolve around you and your feelings, Quinn. I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much that it hurts. But I'm not going to live my life for you."
See, this is what I mean. She asks me to be honest and tell her about my feelings but when I do that, she gets mad and yells at me and tells me why how I feel is wrong. I'm not trying to attack her, I'm just trying to be honest. I just want her to know that I get sad when I don't see or hear from her. Then she says really mean and hurtful things like she just said and I don't know what to do with that. I don't know what to say back to any of it. I love her too. And I guess maybe I don't want her to live her life for me. But she could think about my feelings…
"You don't love me the way you loved Finn," I mumble.
"Oh my GOD, are we back on Finn now?!" She pinches the bridge of her nose. "When are you going to get over it?!"
"It's true! You don't! And the sooner you can admit that to me, the sooner this argument can be over! The same things you're standing here yelling at me about are the same things you used to do with him. You didn't want him to hang out with anybody else, you got sad whenever you saw him talking to me or Santana. When you heard he slept with Santana, you went BALLISTIC and here I am telling you how I feel about you hanging out with Kurt so much and I'm the bad guy! You did the same thing! You acted the same way! You —"
"THAT ISN'T LOVE, QUINN!" She runs her fingers through her hair and grips it, frustration flowing from her fingertips. "That's not love. It wasn't love back when I did it and it's not love when you're doing it. I don't know if you think going to therapy is exclusive to you and only you, but I've done it too. Okay? I've done it too, I've done my work and I know that the way I acted — the way you are currently acting — is not love. It's controlling someone and it's being manipulative and it's emotionally abusive and it's possessive and it's not love. Not hardly."
"So I'm emotionally abusing you? I'm manipulating you, I'm emotionally abusing you, I'm controlling you and I'm trying to possess you?"
"Quinn, stop —"
"No, Rachel. That's what you said. That's what came out of your mouth."
"My god, Quinn, I just can't do this anymore! This back and forth all the time! It's good and then it's bad! It's bad and then it's good!" She takes one step toward me and I take a step back. "Look, there is nothing in the world that you can do that will make me love you any more than I already do. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. But I can't continue on in an unhealthy relationship. I can't. I want what's best for you and I know that right now, you're not capable of anything better because you're still broken, I know this. I know. And I'm trying to love you in spite of all of it. But I —"
"There you go, looking for reasons to break up with me again," I mumble and look away from her.
"I don't have to look very far, now do I ?"
Ouch. I can literally feel that radiating all throughout my body. That one hurt. That hurt a whole lot and she needs to leave. Now, before I start to cry.
"You can go," I clear my throat and look down at the ground, trying to will the tears to stay in my eyes. "Now, before things get anymore heated and I start to say things that I don't mean."
"Oh, why don't you say them, Quinn? Say them. You already told me I don't love you well enough, already accused me of wanting Finn. Might as well keep going."
"YOU DON'T TRY!" I stomp my foot at her with tears rolling down my cheeks and now I'm really mad because I told her to leave before she made me cry and now look at me. Stomping and crying like some kid trying to throw a temper tantrum. "I do everything for us! I sacrificed EVERYTHING! I fought my MOTHER because she didn't want me to be with you — HIT her for saying horrible things about you! And you don't do anything. It's not as hard for you as it is for me. You have people — your dads and Shelby — who will accept you. Nobody is going to look at you and tell you what a disgrace you are. You have all the luxury in the world to not take us seriously, and you don't. You don't, Rachel. I'm giving everything just to be with you and all I'm asking for is a little more understanding from you. You just… you just look at me as something to hold you over until you can get back with Finn. You don't care about me. You don't care about us."
"WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! I don't know what else I have to do!" She looks up at the ceiling and tries to take a few deep breaths to calm herself down. "You want something from me… and it's something I'm not even sure I can give you. I don't know what else I have to do to prove to you that I am all in this relationship with you! I'm sorry if it's been hard for you and nothing but heartache but Quinn, I'm trying too. I'm trying here. It's not enough to kiss you, it's not enough to tell you I love you, it's not enough to stick by you when you're awful to me, it's not enough to hold your hand, it's not enough to have SEX with you! Then what is enough?!"
"I don't know! I don't know! I just don't want you to drop off the face of the earth for a week! I don't think I'm asking for too much! I know I need constant reassurance and stuff but I really am trying! I'm —"
"You are not mentally ready for this relationship, that's what you are. You can't handle someone as admittedly high maintenance as me, and maybe I'm not ready for someone as high maintenance as you. Loving you is EXHAUSTING, Quinn. It's exhausting."
I stomp over to the door after she says that and yank it open. "You need to leave. Now."
"Why? Why, Quinn? Because the truth hurts?"
"Because you're making me hate you! That's why!"
"Well I'm not leaving. This is my mom's house and you can't throw me out."
"Rachel, GO! Now!" I yell at her so loud that Beth should probably wake up, but I can't help it. Fresh tears roll down my cheeks and my jaw trembles. "I'm serious! It's… it's over! It's over! Whatever this is between us? It's over. I'm done. And I want you to leave."
"So now it's you breaking up with me?"
"I don't want to do this to you anymore," I shake my head and the tears rattle off my cheeks. "I don't want you to be exhausted. I want this to be easy for you and I'm… I'm not an easy person. I'm not an easy person and I don't want to drag you down anymore."
"Quinn, DON'T be ridiculous. I said it's exhausting, not that it wasn't worth it. I'm ready to put in the work to make this work between us because I love you and I know that nothing worth having ever comes easy and if that means —"
"Would you stop!? Stop acting like you're this big changed person. Stop acting like you're so much better than me for not having feelings like me. Deep down, you're still the same as me. You're still scared and unsure and insecure. Just like me."
"I feel really bad for you if you don't believe that people can grow from their flaws and change. I feel really, really bad if you —"
"Santana fingered me at Puck's party." I feel like the old Quinn Fabray again. Going right for the jugular. And it's really scary, because when I see the pain wash across Rachel's face… it kind of feels good. "Hardcore fingered me. We were making out and one thing led to another and she fingered me and I liked it."
If I didn't know any better, I would say that Rachel is about to cry. Her lips are pursed together and her eyes are really low and she keeps looking around like if she moves her eyes fast enough, the tears won't fall. She stands before me, shamed and humiliated. I did that to her. And there's a little part of me that is glad I did. I wanted to hurt her the way she hurt me. I wanted her to feel the same thing she made me feel.
"...That's really low, Quinn," she whispers and her voice is cracking.
But she's out of the door before I can see any tears fall.
I'm so glad that Beth seems to be a heavy sleeper because I really don't want her to see me crying like this. My chest is all jerky and my head is throbbing but I can't stop the tears from falling down and splashing onto my shirt. My shirt is soaked and my hair is sticking to my face and my eyes are burning but every time I feel like I don't have anymore tears left in me, a new round of sobs just rocks my body and I think it's me who needs to drink some Pedialyte. It's me who's going to get dehydrated.
Did you see the way she looked at me? She looked at me like I ripped her heart out of her chest and stepped on it. I hurt her. I really, really hurt her. And now I think I lost her forever.
She said loving me is exhausting. She called me mentally and emotionally abusive. She said we have an unhealthy relationship. She said I'm exhausting. I don't bring her any joy to life. It's hard for her to love me…
I lost my Rachel. She's the only thing I cared about. She's the only reason I kept going. She was the one person I looked forward to. And I lost her. And I hurt her. Why did I do that?
The door opens very slowly and very quietly, but I still hear it so I have enough time to wipe my face and pull it together before I have to face Shelby. And it's a good thing that I turned on the Titanic because there's no way she's not going to notice I've been crying. I'm sure my face and my eyes are both really red and plus my shirt is wet. At least with the movie, I have an excuse as to why I'm crying.
I hear Shelby put the keys down on the counter and she turns the lamp on right next to the TV to bring some light into the apartment.
"Well?" Shelby asks. "How was it?"
"Beth was fussy, but she was fine," I sniff again and sit up to act like I really wasn't just throwing a pity party for myself. "She had an accident all over herself and all over me, so I did end up giving her another bath. She started throwing up, too. Then she was running a fever so we gave her some medicine."
"I heard," she tiptoes over to where Beth is laying on the couch and nudges the thermometer up underneath her armpit again. "Did you get her to drink anything?"
"No," I shake my head. "She wouldn't pick her head up and stuff. She just wanted to lay on me and I didn't want to force her to drink."
"Okay." Shelby pulls the thermometer from her armpit and looks at it. "It's 100.7. It's going down a little, but it's still up. If it doesn't break in a couple hours, I'll take her to the hospital just to be safe."
"Can you text me if you end up taking her?"
"Of course," Shelby rubs her fingers across Beth's forehead. "...Are you sure you're okay, Quinn? Did she wear you down tonight?"
"No, no," I rub my hands across my face and sniff again. "The Titanic always makes me cry."
"Yeah, but it's nowhere close to the sad parts yet," she says as she sits down on the coffee table in front of me. "What's really wrong? Are you second guessing watching Beth? I can find someone else if it's too much for you, you just have to let me know."
"It's not that it's…" I sigh. "Me and Rachel had a really bad fight and I really doubt that we'll ever speak again."
"Oh, stop that," she waves her hand and shakes her head at me. "You and Rachel have a really solid friendship. And every time solid friends fall out, they always find their way back to each other. You and Rachel both have really strong personalities. It's normal for you to clash from time to time."
"But…" I sniff one more time. "But I love her."
"I know you do," she touches my knee. "I know you do. Which is why your friendship will be okay."
"No, Shelby," I bite my lip and look away, avoiding eye contact with her. "I like, really love her. I love her in… in the way that I'm not supposed to love another girl."
"Oh," she raises her eyebrows. She leans back, like she's looking at me in a new light or something, then scratches her head. This is so uncomfortable… I shouldn't have said that… "Well… um…" She crosses her legs and sits up straight to appear that she's listening to me and is attentive. "Does… does Rachel feel the same?"
"Sometimes I think she does," I whisper. "But then other times I feel like I love her way more than she loves me."
"Listen Quinn," she puts both her hands on my knees this time. "...sometimes, relationships with women can be way harder than relationships with men. It's confusing and it's just something you have to feel your way through. Sometimes explosive arguments need to happen just so you can figure out how the pieces of your relationship fit. You gotta figure out where the other person stands. Girls are emotional and sometimes explosive because we love way harder. We're way more complex than men. And if you're not used to it, it's really just trial and error."
"You sound like you speak from experience."
"Eh," she grins. "I've just dated a lot of people in my life and I don't really put a limit on things like gender." She winks at me and it makes me smile a little.
"Well thanks, Shelby," I wipe my eyes again for the last time and stand up. "I'd better get going now before my mom — I mean Mrs. Jones — starts worrying about me."
"Anytime, kid," she gets up and follows me to the door so she can lock it behind me.
Shelby really just gets better and better. The more I talk to her, the more I realize that I actually do like who she is as a person. I think Beth is being raised by a decent human. And it's starting to feel like maybe me and Shelby are developing a bond, which I think is going to be good for Beth.
"Hey Shelby?" I call her name and turn around just as I'm about to leave out through the door. "Can I ask you something?"
"Uh-huh," she nods once.
"...Is Rachel…? I mean, is she… like Beth? Is she the result of what happened….? To you…?"
"No," she shakes her head gently. "She's not the product of that situation." I nod just once and head out the door again, until she speaks once more: "But she was a casualty from it."
I turn back around and raise an eyebrow, silently asking her what she means.
"What happened to me… it really messed up my perception of love. It really altered the way I looked at the world and the way I looked at love. She wasn't a product of it, but she was casualty from it. ...Don't let be the same for you, Quinn. Okay? Don't let what happened to you screw up your perception of love."
"Thank you, Shelby." I nod at her again and I don't think we've quite worked up to hugging before we part just yet, so I leave it at that. I leave it at that and walk up the hallway after she shuts the door behind me.
Don't let being raped mess up your perception of love…
iMessage
Wednesday, November 6
8:52 p.m.
ME: i'm sorry. i love you, rachel berry.