I pushed down on the pump and squirted a glob of baby lotion into the palm of my hand as she dropped her towel. She gathered her damp hair to one side of her shoulder and I rubbed my hands together for a second before I started to massage the lotion onto her back. I wanted to kiss the base of her neck, down her shoulder blade and to her collarbone. Her skin flowed beneath my fingertips like buttermilk and I decided that was how I wanted to die; with her smooth skin gliding underneath of mine.
"Did you ever think we'd be doing this?" she asked me just as I finished counting the brown beauty marks on her back. Her voice filled the small bathroom the same way the steam from the shower filled it just moments ago.
"Doing what?" I ran my fingers through her hair then pumped more lotion into my hand.
"This."
She leaned against the toilet and rested between my legs with her knees bent and pulled up. My own hair dripped down my back and the knot I tied in my towel to keep it up started to come undone. When I leaned forward just a bit, I noticed how her towel was draped loosely around her waist and not really covering much except for her upper thighs. She was comfortable enough to be around me naked, and so I let my towel drop too.
There was something about that moment I found special; more special than any other moment.
Her slippery skin was pressed against mine and we were two bodies, naked and close. I felt like my soul was as bare as I was and in that moment, I knew that I would never be that close to anybody else in my life.
"If you're asking me if I ever thought that I'd be putting lotion on you after we got out of the shower then the answer is no," I said. "Turn your head."
She shifted herself slightly to the side and allowed me to put lotion onto her shoulders next. She had three more brown flecks on her left shoulder and one the size of a pea on her right one. Her skin was sunkissed and naturally tan, glowing like diamonds were embedded inside of her underneath the fluorescent bathroom light. It was the first time I'd ever gotten a really good look at her without clothes on, and she had the most beautiful body I'd ever seen, I was sure of it then.
The middle of her back caved inwards, then curved back out as it led down to her butt. She had bones that protruded from her shoulder blades and hair that went naturally wavy when it got wet and came down to rest around her chest. When she was sitting, she had three very slight folds in her stomach, but I could still see her navel; deep enough to make for a perfect belly piercing if she wanted it, but still shallow enough that I could see inside it. She moved her hair to the middle of her back when I was rubbing her shoulders, and the perfection didn't stop at her stomach. It crept all the way up to her chest with the way her boobs sat upright and straight; perky even without a bra. They were nothing like mine. They were big enough to have a decent cup underneath but not so big that they hung down low. They suited her body and when I looked at them, I thought "why wouldn't she have perfect boobs?" Ones that sit up high on her chest with the perfect nipple-to-areola ratio, complete with yet another beauty mark just off the side of the left one. She has the most perfect body, why would her boobs be any exception?
I grabbed the brush off the back of the toilet seat and started dragging it through my hair when I was done lathering her with lotion and admiring how perfect she was. She stood up from the ground and draped her towel over her body again, tucking it under her shoulder. I thought that maybe she was going to put her clothes on next, but she didn't. She stood in front of me, still naked, and held her hand out.
"Here, let me," she said.
I handed her the brush and she stood to the side of me and took over brushing my wet hair with very precise, downward strokes. She hovered over me the same way I hovered over her while I was lotioning her down, but I felt differently about it than she did. My towel hung down over the sides of the toilet and I was exposed again, just free for her to look at my pale white skin and less-than-ideal body. I crossed my legs to cover myself and folded my arms across my chest because I just wasn't as free about it as Rachel was.
"You have such pretty hair," she brushed it down to the middle of my back and a chill shot up my spine.
"Yeah right," I mumbled and let my head go to whichever side she wanted as she brushed. "It's super thin. I wish my hair was thick like yours."
"It's beautiful," she adjusted her towel and parted my hair to one side as she continued. "It's not just one boring color. It's a lot of different colors. It's… it's blonde and then it's brown… maybe a little red tinge if you look at it a certain way in a certain light."
"I know. It needs dyed again, I've been slacking. It's a mess," I squeezed my arms tighter around my chest, suddenly feeling my insecurities flooding.
"Quinn, would you stop it? Just take the compliment. Just say 'thank you, Rachel' and stop talking. You're literally the prettiest girl I've ever met, you don't have to be modest about it."
"You must not meet a lot of girls if I'm the prettiest," I mumbled again.
She sat the brush back down and put her hands on my shoulders, rubbing me very lightly with her thumbs. I felt her eyes all over me and it made me clutch my chest even closer and fold my legs even tighter
"You don't like it when I look at you…" she said and her voice was so soft that I almost didn't hear her.
"What?" I asked, even though I heard her.
"You don't," she spoke louder and clearer. "I noticed it. You only let me touch you if it's dark and if it's not dark, you cover yourself. Like you're doing now."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You are. You did it when we were in the shower, too. I turned around to look at you and you kept covering yourself. Even when I wasn't paying attention — when I was going down on you — you had your hands over your chest the whole time." Her tone was more understanding than accusatory, but I still hung my head because it wasn't something I could deny. "You know what I see when I look at you, Quinn?"
"A basket case?" I shrugged. "A girl that's slowly losing her mind?"
"No," she shook her head and stood in front of me again, and I couldn't help but notice how her towel was rising up around her waist. She leaned forward and grabbed my hands.
"What are you doing?" I snatched away from her. "Stop it, let go." She grabbed my hands just as quickly as I pulled away. "Rachel, I'm serious! Stop it!" No matter how much I thrashed and swatted her away from me, she kept grabbing my hands and pushing them away from my chest.
"No, you stop it," she grabbed my wrists and pushed my hands to the side. "Let me look at you. Okay? Let me tell you what I see when I look at you."
With her round, chocolate brown eyes staring back at me, I gave up and let my arms hang at my sides. Something about looking into her eyes had always brought me an internal peace. It felt like maybe she had some kind of magic built up inside of her that was only ever unleashed on me. I sat in front of her, arms dangling, naked and slightly embarrassed.
"I see the most perfect skin in the world," she cupped her hand around my cheek and caressed me all the way down to my shoulder. "You have no pimples, no acne scars, no blackheads, no big pores… just… perfect skin." She runs her fingers through my hair next. "Silky, healthy hair. No dead ends or heat damage or ponytail creases." She stepped back like she was taking a good look at me or something. "I see lips that are perfect for kissing, and hips that are perfect for grabbing. And a great ass, by the way. I mean, great. It's the kind of ass I drool over and do squats to achieve."
"You're such a loser," I giggled and shook my head.
"Maybe," she shrugged. "But I'm a loser who hates that my girlfriend won't even let me look at her. Even though I think she is the perfect thing in the world." She rested her two fingers underneath my chin and lifted my head until I was looking her in the eye. "Look. I know you have problems with the way you view yourself. And I know these problems probably stem back to your dad and they're things that I probably can't even help you with. I know this. I know you have body image issues. But if there's any chance that I can alleviate any of it just by me telling you how perfect you are to me? I'll do it every single day. You are perfect to me, Quinn Fabray. You are perfect and you are beautiful. And that's all I see when I look at you."
"...Thank you, Rachel."
She tilted her head and leaned down to kiss me and I lifted my head up to kiss her too, and then we —
I feel the buzzing of my phone shaking the bed before I actually hear it, which brings me to that hazy state between sleep and consciousness. It buzzes again, and that's when my eyes start to flutter open. I know it's not the feeling of my alarm jolting me awake because when my alarm goes off, it just buzzes nonstop but this vibrating is off and on, like it's ringing or a dozen text messages are coming in or something.
For the past two days, all I've been dreaming about is me and Rachel sitting down with each other and bearing our souls after we got out of the shower that night. The first night I dreamt of it, I thought that I was going to dream about the sex and wake up needing to change my underwear because the sex was so hot that night that I keep having flashbacks at the most inconvenient times. I have flashbacks of the way I had to grab onto the railing inside the shower to keep from moaning too loud and then I start hearing the way Rachel sounded when she was moaning my name and I get all hot and wound up again. I have yet to have a wet dream about it but I know it's coming and all it's doing is making me want her all over again.
Anyway, my phone finally stopped buzzing and I finally feel awake enough, so I pull it off the charger, yawn, then open it up with a very lazy thumb punching in my passcode.
And as soon as I open it, it's easy to see exactly why the constant vibrating woke me up. It's like a never-ending stream of text messages, some I didn't even see before I fell asleep last night...
New Text Message
Monday, November 11
12:01 a.m.
FRANNIE: Happy Birthday, Little Luce! Miss You And Love You And Call Me Later When You Are Out Of School! Love You So Much Sissy!
New iMessage
Monday, November 11
12:05 a.m.
MERCEDES: Ur sleeping and I'll see u in the morning but happy birthday quinn! Love u so much ur my best friend in the world!
New iMessage
Monday, November 11
12:07 a.m.
TINA: Happy birthday Quinn!
New iMessage
Monday, November 11
12:15 a.m.
RACHEL: I wanted to be the 1st one to tell you happy birthday but every time I tried to write out this text and send it out, I kept getting stuck on exactly what I wanted to say. I tried to have it drafted out and ready to send by midnight but I had so much I wanted to say and I kept rewording it and erasing it and ugh! So anyway. Happy birthday. I can't even begin to explain how much you mean to me. I truly believe that I hit the jackpot when you agreed to be my girlfriend and made me the happiest girl in the world. I love you more than I ever thought was possible and I would be so lost without you. You are the one person in the world I don't think I would ever be okay without. I can't imagine where I would be if I never met you and you never showed me what true love is supposed to feel like. You and me have the kind of love story people make movies about! You are the most important person in my life right now and I think it's amazing that we have one whole day to celebrate you and the person you are. Nobody knows how lucky we are to get to share the planet with you. I can't wait to see you in school and hear everyone tell you how special you are today because you truly deserve to hear it. I love you so much, Babe :) :) :) And I am so glad to have one more rotation around the sun with you! I hope you open this up tomorrow morning and it makes you smile. See you in school and happy birthday again! Love you so much!
~ Rachel
New Text Message
Monday, November 11
5:56 a.m.
SANTANA: Happy b-day to you, twin bitch. Luv u even when I hate u girl!
New iMessage
Monday, November 11
6:04 a.m.
KURT: Happy Birthday xxxx
New iMessage
Monday, November 11
6:06 a.m.
DADDY: Happy 17th birthday, Lucy.
New Text Message
Monday, November 11
6:15 a.m.
SHELBY: So, a little birdy told me it's someone's birthday! Well happy birthday, Quinn. From me and our Beth. I hope you have a good one and eat lots of cake! You are a special girl and it is a special day.
New Text Message
Monday, November 11
6:20 a.m.
FRANNIE: Are You Up For School Yet? Text Me Before You Leave. I Want To Talk To You.
New iMessage
Monday, November 11
6:22 a.m.
MOM: Happy birthday, Quinnie. You will always be my lil girl.
New Text Message
Monday, November 11
6:22 a.m.
860-06: 11/11 — ATM/ACCOUNT TRANSFER
860-06: A payment of $300 has been transferred to your account. If you believe these changes have been made fraudulently, contact customer service at 1-800-LIMACOMMUNITYBANK. To opt out of text alerts reply STOP.
When I finally reach the end of my barrage of birthday texts, I go back to Rachel's text so I can reply to hers first but as soon as I start to think of ways to thank her and tell her how much I love her too, I hear my bedroom door swing open. Though my back is turned to the door and I'm still trying to fully wake up, I hear various whispers behind me.
The only thing I can actually hear and understand is when I hear them whispering "one… two… three…" behind my back and as soon as I realize exactly what is going on, I can't roll over fast enough. I'm barely on my side when they all open their mouths and start singing, "Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to you…"
I yawn and then sit up, blinking a few times until my eyes go into focus and I can actually see. Mercedes holds a stack of three pancakes with a candle on top that are prepared just the way I like them; homemade with crispy edges and chocolate chips sprinkled on top instead of throughout the batter. The giant pat of butter on top is melting and rolling down the sides and the maple syrup is pooled all around the base of the plate and I'm not usually the type to eat as soon as I wake up, but I could inhale that entire plate in five seconds flat.
"Happy birthday dear Quuuu-innn… happy birthday to you!"
"Here, now make a wish," Mercedes holds the plate to my face and I blow out the candle with one quick breath.
"Thank you," I tuck my hair behind my ears and look around at the way they all genuinely seem happy to have sung to me. I pick up the fork hanging on the side of the plate and cut a piece of pancake off with the side. "You really didn't have to do this, you didn't have to make me breakfast."
"Of course I did," Mrs. Jones sits down on the bed next to me and sweeps my hair away from my forehead. "It's your birthday," she presses her lips to my temple. "Happy birthday, baby."
In all honesty, I forgot that it was my birthday.
Okay, it's not that I forgot because I didn't actually completely forget. I just kind of didn't remember it before I fell asleep last night and I had such a busy weekend that I didn't really pay attention. My friends threw me that surprise sleepover on Friday and I know that was for my birthday, but it seems like Friday was such a long time ago. Saturday I was busy with therapy and then I watched Beth for a few hours, who is sick all over again. Yesterday I was supposed to just relax but then I remembered I had homework and Rachel came over and we ended up watching a movie and long story short, I fell asleep last night and forgot that when I woke up today, I was going to be another year older.
"Do you want presents now or later?" Mr. Jones holds up two small pink gift bags as I swallow a lump of pancake down my throat. "You can have them now, or you can wait until dinner tonight. Your choice."
"Dinner?" I ask with my mouth full.
"Yeah, birthday tradition in this house," Mercedes sits down on my bed too. "Every time it's someone's birthday, we go to a restaurant of their choice and have dinner. It's just what we do."
"So you gotta come straight home after school today, both of you. You hear?" Mrs. Jones says.
"Yes ma'am," I dust off the last piece of my pancake platter and lick the syrup off my fingers. "I can wait until later for the presents. You guys really didn't —"
"If you say we didn't have to get you anything one more time, I'm gonna shake you until your head spins," Mr. Jones hands me the two gifts even though I said I would wait. "Just open them. The pink one is from me and 'Trice, the white one is from 'Cedes."
"Okay." I pull the tissue paper out of Mercedes' gift first and then blindly reach inside for whatever is inside the bag. When I first pull it out, all I see is the shiny silver metal lining with the pink and purple glittery heart-shaped cutouts. It's not until I see the stand that I realize I have it backwards, so I flip it around and it's probably the most beautiful and meaningful gift I've ever received.
The frame is a smooth, shiny silver and the hearts around the perimeter of the frame are pink, purple and white. Across the top in white cursive letters, the words "best friends" are written and inside the frame is a picture of me, her, Rachel and Tina. It's a selfie from the homecoming game and Rachel's tongue is sticking out, Tina's smiling with her eyes closed dramatically, Mercedes' eyes are crossed, and I'm smiling normally because I didn't know they were making funny faces. It's the most perfect picture I've ever seen in my life. The concession stand is in the background and the overhead lights make us all look our most glamorous selves. And I always talked about how I wanted to freeze that moment and remember it for the rest of my life. It was the moment I felt like my life was finally coming back to me and I didn't want to forget it. Because I know that someday these will all become memories and memories fade. When I'm older, I probably won't remember the game under the lights where I laughed with my friends and felt infinite. I might not remember the way I feel when I come home after a long day and hear Mrs. Jones singing in the kitchen, or I might forget how it felt to be part of something that is bigger than me. But here, in the snapshot of me and my friends — the closest people in the world to me — that moment is going to be there forever. And I won't forget it.
"Thank you," I hold back tears when I lean forward and give Mercedes an awkward side-hug. "It's perfect, thank you. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Quinn," she pats my shoulder and I really do love how Mercedes just gets me. She just knows me for who I am and knows exactly what to say and what to do and what kind of gifts I like.
Her gift probably didn't cost much, but it's the kind of gift I've always wanted. Every year for my birthday, it's just been one big expensive thing after the next. My fifth birthday, Dad surprised me with a pair of 20-karat diamond earrings. Then on my tenth, he got me my first cell phone. My thirteenth was a nose job and my sixteenth was a car. I'm used to really expensive and really lavish gifts but my parents — Judy and Russel, I mean — could have kept all of it for one meaningful gift. That's all I ever wanted, something to show me that they actually knew who I was as a human.
"Here you go, baby," Mrs. Jones nudges the other bag to me. "Go on and open up me and Jared's."
I pluck the tissue paper out of that bag as well, then pull a small white box from the bottom of it. The box has "Pandora" written on it so I already know it's a piece of jewelry, but I wonder which kind. It could be earrings, it could be a necklace or it could be a bracelet. I'm a little eager then I'm willing to admit, so I just pry the box apart and look inside it and Mercedes' gift has some stiff competition in the "most beautiful" department.
"Oh my god," I whisper as I hold it up to my face to get a closer look. "It's beautiful…"
"You ain't gotta wear it 'til you're comfortable, okay?" Mrs. Jones starts to explain and I don't know what the hell she means. Of course I'm going to wear it immediately! It's beautiful! "We was just thinking that… well you know that… that we love you and…"
"What she's trying to say is that we accept you," Mr. Jones speaks up because he's better with words than his wife. "We accept you and we don't ever want you to be ashamed of who you are. We saw it in the store while we were looking at what to get you and it just seemed perfect, I guess."
"You don't have to wear it. We ain't gonna be offended if you don't. But it's part of you and who you is as a person and we don't never want you to hide it. Not no more." Mrs. Jones shakes her head and I think I might actually cry because my mother and my father would never do anything like this for me. Ever.
"It's beautiful," I say again and start to take it out of its packaging. "I'm never going to take it off. I promise."
I take the bracelet out of its box and wrap it around my wrist so that it dangles a bit, but is still pretty snug. When it's on me, I hold my arm out so I can see the way it looks on my wrist and I think it looks pretty damn perfect.
The band of it is pure sterling silver and it's so shiny that it hurts to look at it for too long, but the most beautiful part of it isn't in the material. No. The main focus is the colored diamonds that are laid into the band that goes all the way around my wrist. In the middle of the bracelet, there is a very tiny silver heart charm that dangles lower than the rest of the bracelet. The diamonds sparkle all the colors of the rainbow and the heart charm in the middle has a rainbow in the middle of it as well. And maybe it is a big step to wear a pride bracelet, maybe I am a little bit unsettled by the idea. But it's perfect for me and perfect for the way I don't want to hide who I am anymore.
"I love it so much, thank you," I hug both Mr. and Mrs. Jones in one sweep, and they're both very silent when they hug me back but that's okay because they don't need to say anything. I know that they mean to tell me how very welcome I am with their silence.
"Okay you two," Mrs. Jones mumbles as we break out of the hug. "Get dressed. Dressed and ready for school, we already wasted fifteen minutes. You're gonna be late."
If I have to text or tell anyone else the words "thank you" today, I am going to scream at the top of my lungs and lock myself in my bedroom until this day is over. I haven't even gotten to first period yet and I've already said "thank you" more times than I've said in my entire seventeen years alive. I don't even know half the people who were been wishing me happy birthday in the hallway and in the cafeteria for breakfast. It got to the point where I had to literally look down and make sure I wasn't wearing anything on my clothing that says "IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!" because literally every person I came across has been saying it to me and it's a good thing that I dressed nicely because I almost didn't.
I had a pair of dark jeans and a white and red striped t-shirt in my hands to put on today because me and Mercedes were running late from the birthday festivities this morning. But then fifteen minutes before we had to be out the door, I decided that I probably shouldn't look like an actual bum for my birthday and I found a plain white dress at the back of my closet. It's white and it's flowy and it comes down to my knees and there's a bow tied at the side. It's not my best Quinn Fabray outfit and I doubt that I'll get any compliments on it today, but I just threw a peach-colored knit jacket over my shoulders and put on brown wedges and it saved me from looking like a mess on my birthday.
Me and Mercedes only caught the tail end of breakfast because we were running so late, so I haven't really seen Rachel yet and even though it hasn't even been a full 24 hours since I've seen her, I kind of miss her already. I think maybe I miss her because she's the only person who can take my mind off of what it's been on since the moment I opened up my birthday texts.
Happy birthday, Quinnie. You will always be my lil girl.
That was it. There wasn't anything more than that, and there wasn't anything less. Just a plain and simple "happy birthday" with a $300 payment attached to it and I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I really don't. The money was a really nice touch and it'll keep me from having to ask the Joneses for anything which is great considering that Rachel's birthday is coming up and so is Christmas. But it's kind of hard not to think about how she transferred money over to me instead of saying anything nice, like that she was going to come get me or come see me for my birthday. I mean, she is my mom, isn't she? Shouldn't she come and see me for my birthday? Or take me out to celebrate?
Maybe she really doesn't care about me anymore. It's nice that she didn't forget my birthday and it's nice that she sent me something instead of nothing…
I guess maybe I thought this whole thing would be harder than it's been for her. I'm probably wrong and probably a little bit crazy to feel this way, but I kind of wish that she would have fought for me, I guess. There's no place in the world I'd rather be than where I am with the Joneses, but I do wish Mom would have fought a little harder to keep me or made more of an effort to see me. I didn't expect her to throw me away like garbage. If it were Beth and someone was trying to take her away from me, I'd fight it tooth and nail. Even if where she was going was better for her than being with me, I would still fight it. And let her know that I love her enough to let her go.
I'm going to try really hard not to be sad today because it's my birthday and yeah, my mom only sent me money and gave me a very generic birthday wish, but I have nothing to be unhappy about. I have nothing to be unhappy about and everything to be excited about because I'm surrounded by people who actually care and the time to be sad and wallow in my feelings about Mom will be tomorrow when I talk to Bailey.
So just like that, I shake the thoughts from my head and turn the knob on my locker dial to the right combination of numbers. All I have to do is get through school and glee club rehearsals and then I'm free to go home and celebrate with the people who actually care about me. It's all so simple. I have nine hours and then I can do whatever I want to do. Just nine hours.
As I slide my organic chem book and the novel we've been reading for English off the top of my locker shelf, I watch a pair of dark red Toms approach me and an easy smile spreads across my lips when they stop right next to my brown wedges. When I close my locker, my smile grows just a little wider because it's her and she's here and she's perfect and we've been together for a little while now, but my heart still skips a beat when I see her for the first time in a long time.
"So your read receipts are on and I can see that you've read my incredibly long but also insanely cheesy birthday text and while you don't always have to respond to me, I can't help but notice that you haven't texted me back, so. Despite the fact that I may have made a terrible fool of myself by being so disgustingly mushy when you clearly are not a very mushy person at times, I am demanding an answer. Was it too cheesy? Did I completely turn you off? Should I have just left it at a simple 'happy birthday?' You can't leave me hanging." She rambles, standing in front of me with her hands behind her back and her feet rocking inside of her bright red shoes. Did I mention how beautiful she is?
Because she is. She is absolutely stunning. She parted her on the side today instead of at her crown like she usually does, and she kept her bangs pulled away from her forehead today. She must have gotten up a little early because her hair has very light curls at the ends to give it some body instead of wearing it pin straight like she usually does. Her long-sleeved shirt is white with multicolored polka dots all over it and her skirt is red and Rachel usually dresses nicely, I admit that. Her style isn't necessarily my style, but she knows how to put an outfit together quite well and she always looks so put together. But I catch myself thinking that maybe she put in a little extra effort today just because it's my birthday.
"I got your message as soon as I woke up," I shift my books underneath my arm and secure them against my hip. "And I loved it, babe. Thank you. But I was too busy to reply. As soon as I started typing something out, Mercedes and her parents came in to wake me up and we had pancakes and opened gifts and then I had to get ready for school and rush here so we didn't get tardy slips and I just didn't have time. But I loved it. It was super cheesy and extra mushy."
"Super cheesy?" she raises her eyebrows up at me.
"The cheesiest."
"Like… Swiss cheese, cheddar cheese or Gorgonzola cheese?"
"Heavy mozzarella."
"And mushy, right?" She narrows her eyes at me for the joke and I don't think I've ever loved her so much. I feel that way a lot sometimes. Sometimes I think that this is the most I'll ever love her and then she does something that makes me love her even more. It's cyclical. "I tried to go extra thick oatmeal mushy, just to appease you."
"Oh, it was oatmeal alright. It was maple and brown sugar oatmeal. Made my teeth hurt, that's how sweet and mushy it was."
I wish I could kiss her in this hallway. With a hundred people swirling around us trying to get their books for first period and trying to function at this hour of the morning, I want to stand in the middle of this place and kiss her. I wish things weren't so hard for us. I wish we could be girlfriend and girlfriend in peace.
"Well get ready, Quinn Fabray," she takes a step closer to me and flashes me a smile with those perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. She melts me… "Because your day is about to get that much sweeter."
"Rachel, what are you —"
She finally takes her hands from behind her back and resting in her palm is a cupcake. It has a pink liner wrapped around it and the frosting is pink with purple sprinkles and a white chocolate "Q" to top it off.
"Made especially for you by yours truly, one Rachel Berry."
"You are such a little loser," I shake my head at her with a smile as I take it because it does look pretty damn tasty and I can't believe she made it. Although, there's not really much of anything she can't do, so I guess a cupcake looking as perfect as this one doesn't really surprise me.
"Eat it," she nudges me with her elbow. "It's your favorite. It's vanilla on vanilla, but I just dyed it pink. And it might be cold because I kept it in the fridge all night, but I think it's okay."
"You made me one cupcake?" I peel the paper off the rim. "You made an entire batch of cupcake batter and a bowl of icing for one cupcake?"
"Of course I didn't do that!" she hangs her head in mock embarrassment, then looks at me through her eyelashes. "The rest of the dozen is in my locker. I'm saving them for glee club. But yours is the only really pretty one."
"You are incredible, Rachel." I break the cupcake in half instead of diving in and taking a bite right off the top like I want to. I break it in half equally, then offer the second half to her. "Here, you have some too. Cheers?"
She takes the other half from my hand and presses it up against my half. "Cheers."
I watch her stuff the entire half into her mouth before I take a single bite out of mine. I wish everyone around us would just disappear. I wish that by some miracle, an asteroid would come down and wipe out the entire population of McKinley High School except for me and Rachel. I wish we could be alone in between these hallways and I could be free to look at her, smiling like she's the only thing in the world as she stands in front of me with pink frosting all over her lips. Just for today, I would be content if she and I were the only two people on the planet. Just for today, I would be content to walk around with her hand inside mine without worrying about judgment.
"You really put your foot in this," I nod and lick the frosting off my thumb. "It's really good, babe. Thanks."
"I think the fridge added a nice touch," she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and talks with a mouth so full that little cupcake bits fly out. She missed a single spot at the corner of her mouth when she wiped and it's all I can focus on.
"You got a little…" I point on my own face to where hers is at, and she licks at the corner but still misses it. "No, still there." I keep pointing and she keeps licking. "Still there. Here, let me…"
I swipe my index finger across her lips and keep it there, halfway forgetting that we're not alone and also halfway not caring. Rachel reaches up and holds my hand against her face and I just have to rub my thumb across her cheek because there are times like this where I forget that she's real. She looks so beautiful standing in front of me and she's smiling at me the way I've always dreamt about her smiling at me and it just doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem real unless I touch her.
But then I slowly remember that we're not alone and people are around us and probably watching, so then I go to take my hand away from her cheek but she locks her hand around mine to hold it there.
"People are staring," I whisper to her, not really knowing if they actually are staring but just kinda assuming.
She lets go of my hand and takes a step backwards, away from me. Her eyes are low again and I can feel the shame driving a wedge between the both of us and I just don't think that it's fair. I think we deserve at least one day where we don't have to hide. I'm sort of expecting the both of us to part ways, because first period starts in a couple minutes and we don't have the same classes this year. So I'm a little surprised when Rachel picks her head back up and looks me dead in my eyes. I can always tell when she's about to say something because she gets this look on her face where her eyes focus in on something and her mouth turns to a solid line and her eyebrows kind of furrow. Again, I'm not surprised when she actually opens her mouth.
"...So what?" she whispers in the same tone I whispered to her in a moment ago. And before I can ask her what she means by "so what", she's raising up on her tiptoes and turning her head to the side and I don't have time to push her away — if that's even what I want to do — before her lips are pressed up against mine. Right here. In the middle of the hallway with the entire junior and senior class present. It's the quickest kiss we've ever shared; even quicker than the first time we ever did. Her lips are on mine for a tenth of a second before they're pulled away and if anyone blinked, they might have missed it.
And all I can do is stand in front of her and look at her like I'm stupid and don't even know what the hell she just did.
"Let them look," she shrugs her shoulders and grins at me. "...See you later?"
"...Yeah…" I croak.
"Happy birthday," she says.
She turns and walks away. Just like that. Like whatever just happened wasn't as important as it actually was. I mean, it was important… wasn't it? When she walks away, I don't notice anyone stopping and gawking at us and I don't notice anyone pointing and laughing. But she just kissed me in front of the whole school. And it wasn't even a kiss that we could explain away by saying that it was friendly. It wasn't a hand kiss or a cheek kiss or a forehead kiss. It was a kiss on the lips like all couples do and I can't believe she actually did that…
I adjust the grip I have on my books and walk up the hall to first period but all I can think is…
Oh shit.
November 11
I couldn't wait to get to study hall today just so I could write everything down in here. I started to think about maybe waiting until tomorrow to say anything about today because I see Bailey tomorrow and sometimes if I write everything down before I talk to her about it, I forget what it was that I wanted to talk to her about and then things never get talked about but in this case, I couldn't wait. I couldn't wait and I don't think I'll forget anything about today before my session with her tomorrow.
Rachel kissed me at school. She kissed me in the middle of the hallway with everyone looking and everyone seeing and yet… nobody has said anything about it.
I walked into first period thinking that someone was going to comment about what they just saw us do, so I held my breath as I sat down and opened up my book. But my teacher just started the lesson and nobody even looked at me. A few people told me happy birthday, but that was it.
I thought first period might have been a fluke, so I kept my guard up as I walked to second period and held my breath again as I sat down. But it was the same thing. A few people told me happy birthday, I sat down, opened my book and that was the end of it.
Even at lunch when me and Rachel sat with each other after the big kiss in the hallway, nobody came up to us and said anything. Not even Finn, which I was wholeheartedly expecting. Finn's not exactly the kind of guy who would take losing Rachel with a grain of salt. I mean, sometimes it seems like he's a good guy and on the whole, I think he really is. He's probably the best guy in McKinley and if Rachel was going to date anyone besides me, I'd want it to be him because he seems to actually care about her sometimes. But he's not the type to just lie down and let someone "steal" his girl away so quickly and I really thought he'd make a huge deal about me being the one to do it. Rachel being bisexual might not be as big a shock to everyone as I thought it would be, but it would definitely be a shock to him.
But even Finn hasn't said a single word. Nobody has. And in a way, it makes me feel really bad for the kids who haven't been so lucky.
Lately, Mercedes has been trying to teach me about the differences between her and me and she's been working on explaining something called white privilege because apparently, it exists and no matter how many times I try to tell her that I don't care about skin color, she tells me that I need to care. So I'm trying. I'm listening very intently when she explains things and I'm being open minded and I'm actually learning a few things that make a whole lot of sense. Like, for example, why people stared at us when we were in JC Penney last month and the security guard asked to see her receipt but not mine. She's teaching me things like that and I do think that it's making me a better, more well-rounded human. But later on tonight when everything is all said and done and the birthday festivities are over, I'm going to go into her room, sit down on her bed, and ask her if how people are treating me and Rachel has anything to do with my privilege, white or not.
I'm not sure if it relates in any way, but I can't stop thinking about the way Kurt and Blaine and even Karofsky have been treated by the blatant homophobes in this school.
Just last week, Kurt was shoved into a locker for wearing a kilt. Blaine opened up his locker and found tampons stuffed inside. And even though everyone said they would do better after Karofsky killed himself, nobody actually does. Karofsky is nothing but a picture hanging up in the trophy case and a football jersey in the locker room. Everyone promised to do better for him, but nobody actually cares.
My point is that any kid who has had to come out between the walls of McKinley has been put through absolute hell and even though it's barely been four hours since me and Rachel sort of came out, there has been nothing but people ignoring it and acting like it didn't happen, which is better than being bullied for it. We've been luckier in four hours than some of the gay kids have been in three years and I'm grateful for it, but I'm wondering how that could possibly be.
Maybe it's easier for two girls to be gay than for two boys to be gay. Maybe it's easier for two girls kissing to be perceived as friendly instead of romantic. Or maybe me and Rachel are lucky and for the first time in school history, everyone is learning to only give a damn about themselves. Either way, I feel bad for Kurt and bad for Blaine and guilty that my experience in coming out has been so drastically different. If I had known that coming out with Rachel was going to be so easy, I might have done it the day after she admitted she remembered kissing me after Puck's party.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I've been sleeping well at night, I've been laughing without feeling guilty, been crying but not from sadness. I see Puck in the hallways and it's easier to turn and look the other way, I think about Beth and smile instead of cry because even though I miss her, I know that I get to see her. I've been feeling lighter, more secure in my relationship with Rachel and more stable in the way I think. Everything seems like it's all getting better and I'm excited for it, but I keep feeling like something else is about to happen and I'm walking around on eggshells and waiting for it go all go wrong.
Mom sent me a birthday gift and I've been working up the courage to tell her thank you all day, but I don't know how to. I don't know how to say thank you for the money, which I don't really need. Mr. and Mrs. Jones take complete care of me and if I need anything, I know that I can just ask. The money is going to sit there until Rachel's birthday and then until Christmas but even then, I'm only going to use it because I can. Not because I need it. Shelby pays me for watching Beth so I have my own income, even if it's only 50 dollars a week. She sent me money for my birthday. Nothing else, just money. She didn't even ask me how I was doing or if I needed anything. She didn't tell me that she missed me and that she loved me. She just said happy birthday and that I would always be her little girl but I'm not. I'm not her little girl anymore and I haven't been her little girl since I got pregnant and I don't know if she realizes that. I don't know if she ever will. I think in her mind, I'll always be the little girl with pigtails and crying because she fell off her bike and maybe she's not ready to accept that yet. Maybe that's why she stopped loving me.
We haven't spoken voice-to-voice or face-to-face since before sectionals, when she tried to take me home. That was the last time I spoke to my mother, the last time I heard her voice. And even though I don't wish I was back home for anything in the world, I miss her. I miss her so much. I miss the way she'd call me Quinnie and rub my head when I had a bad day at school. I even miss the way she would yell at me for leaving the empty milk carton in the fridge and not cleaning my hair out of the tub. I miss how she used to peek inside my room every night to make sure I was still alive, even though she was only doing it because she was scared I'd overdose again. I feel terrible because it feels like by missing her, I'm saying that the Joneses aren't good enough and I don't mean that at all. Mr. and Mrs. Jones are absolutely wonderful and I love them with everything inside of me. But she's my mom. She's my mother, the one I look like, the one I grew inside of and grew up with. And she's not always horrible. Sometimes she's really good. Sometimes she's really, really good. And I miss her like crazy.
It's scary how she could just turn her love for me off. She just woke up one day and decided to try and get me back home with her and when I told her that I wasn't coming, that was it. It was like she had a switch inside of her all along, one that she could turn off and on at the drop of a hat. She turned it off when I got pregnant and she let dad throw me out, then turned it back on when she caught him having his 342nd affair. Now it's off again and I think it's scary how she can just take her love away from me just like that.
It does go both ways, I guess. I mean, I could be the one to call her. I could pick up the phone or get into my car and drive across town to visit her and tell her that I still love her and I hope she loves me too. It would be easy for me to make some kind of effort. I know the Joneses both said that it's not my job to mend the relationship because I'm her child, but maybe it is my fault a little bit. Maybe it is my responsibility to mend the relationship when I'm the reason it's broken in the first place.
Maybe after we get home from my birthday dinner tonight, I'll sit down and call her. I'll do it in private so I don't upset Mr. and Mrs. Jones. I'll do it in private and I
My phone buzzes and makes the pocket of my knit jacket shake. I think about ignoring it for a moment, because I'm sure that it's just another one of the million birthday messages I received between texts, Facebook and Instagram. But it's never going to stop buzzing unless I clear the notification, so I'll just clear it and then I'll put it on "do not disturb" and finish my journaling before study hall is over.
I open my phone and punch my passcode in with my thumb, and sure enough, it's a text from Mercedes. She already wished me happy birthday a dozen times today so if she's texting me again, maybe it's important. I glance up to make sure that Mrs. Wallace isn't looking, then sneak to look at my phone.
New iMessage
Monday, November 11
12:02 p.m.
MERCEDES: Did u see this?
LINK — Jacob Ben Israel on Instagram: "McKinley's New IT Couple!" Click to open up in Instagram app!
I glance up at Mrs. Wallace again and when I see that she's still not paying attention, I tap on the link and wait for it to load on Instagram. When the little loading icon finally comes full circle, the picture post becomes clear and I feel my heart stop beating for a second. And my blood runs cold. And I feel like I might throw up.
There it is, a picture of me and Rachel kissing by my locker. It's a little blurry so if I need to, I'll just lie and say that it's not us. Just because the two people in the picture have blonde hair and brown hair doesn't mean it's us. And just because the blonde is wearing a white dress with a peach jacket and the brunette is wearing a polka dotted shirt and a red skirt doesn't mean it's Rachel. They can't prove anything! Oh no… they took a picture? Oh no, this is it… this is it. This is when it all falls apart. That other shoe? It just fell. It fell down right on my head and I'm sure that this is where it all ends…
I want to look away and close my phone and start the lie that it's not me, but I can't. It's like an addiction, the way I keep reading…
212 likes
jacobbenisrael_gossip Spotted this morning the fallen former reigning queen of WMHS, Miss Quinn Fabray kissing self-proclaimed drama queen Rachel Berry by the lockers. Friendly birthday kiss or McKinley's new "it"'couple? You decide
I tap on the picture to see who he tagged because even though 212 people already have seen it, I just want to know if he tagged all 212 of those people. So I tap on the picture and only two black bubbles pop up, only two people tagged: omgitsrachelb and xquinnfabray. He only tagged me and Rachel…
And I know I should turn away and stop looking now, before I see anything that could potentially ruin my entire birthday, but like I said… it's like an addiction. I can't look away, so I tap to read all 165 comments next.
santanalopezzzz So hot
KurtCouture It couple for sure!
mercedes_jones1 Definitely the new it couple
mattdogrutherford Why is the picture so shitty. U had 1 job
blainesinger For sure the new it couple. Never looked better and never looked Gayer. Happy bday Quinn!
tinalovesyou My fav girls!
omgitsrachelb Haha. I say "it" couple for sure. Lol.
brittanyandlordtubbs Not hotter than me but definitely hot
Woooooooo
puckster Damn. Anyone know where 2 find a video?
changcommamike It couple!
Sam_IAm It
motttttta It couple!
laurenxzizes They're it. For shoooo
Not a single negative comment in sight…? Granted, the ones I read are mostly from my friends and from some of the people I would have expected nothing less that the utmost support from. But even as I scroll down a little further and read more comments from people I don't know, the most negative thing I come across is the word "ew" written a few times and even then… that's mild compared to what it could be… is everyone seriously this supportive?
Is everyone this supportive or are they just being nice because it's my birthday?
Either way, I feel so much different after seeing hardly anything except for positive comments. Even if there are a few out there that say "ew", there's more positive than negative and that makes me feel like I can breathe again. It's like I was walking around holding in a deep breath ever since me and Rachel started dating. I took a deep breath when we officially started calling each other girlfriend and girlfriend, and I've been holding that deep breath in ever since. Now that it's out and the whole school knows and nobody seems to be terrorizing us, I can let that breath out and breathe again.
I exit out of my Instagram app when I reach the end of the comments, but I don't lock my phone. Instead, I tap on my messages app and scroll through the threads from today until I find Rachel's.
iMessage
Wednesday, November 11
12:10 p.m.
ME: don't know if we're the new "it" couple. but you're definitely my "it" girl. i love you and thank you for making me brave.
New iMessage
Wednesday, November 11
12:15 p.m.
RACHEL: Come down to the auditorium.
RACHEL: I have a birthday surprise for you :)
With that, I finally lock my phone and slip it back into my side pocket. I close my journal and stuff it back into my bookbag, then gather my pencils and my school books up too before I raise my hand.
And as soon as Mrs. Wallace tells me that I can go, I'm out the door and on my way to the auditorium.
She's probably going to sing to me in the auditorium which is fine, actually. I told her yesterday that I don't want her to sing to me and I want her to save her voice for glee club later because we're working on stuff for regionals, but she insisted that she sings to me for my birthday. Deep down somewhere, I think I actually went her to sing to me. The whole idea of being serenaded seems incredibly cheesy and super corny and I'm not into that kind of stuff. But I think deep down somewhere, I do kind of want her to sing to me and I'm glad that she didn't listen to me when I told her not to.
I stop at my locker on my way to the auditorium so I can put my books back.
I wonder what she's going to sing. I hope it's something by Madonna because her voice always sounds so regal and pretty when she belts out a Madonna tune. Plus, I love Madonna. Or no, maybe she'll sing something from a Broadway musical of some sort. She sounds the best when she's belting out a show tune. Maybe there's a show tune with a really pretty song about love that I don't know about. Or no, maybe she wrote me a song! She always says that she wouldn't be any good at writing songs because she's not the greatest at poetry but I think she could do it. Maybe she wrote me my own beautiful ballad. Something like A Million Reasons by Gaga or Shallow from A Star Is Born. Yeah, maybe she wrote me a beautiful ballad that she's going to sing at the piano. And she taught the song to the entire glee club and when I walk into the auditorium, everyone will be there and they'll all be waiting to sing to me. I know that's a bit of a reach, but I can dream. Can't I?
I yank the door to the auditorium open and look over both my shoulders just to make sure nobody is watching or sneaking anymore unauthorized pictures of me today. Once I'm in the clear, I make sure the door closes quietly behind me and hold onto the railing as I walk down the small flight of steps that lead to the rows of seats.
"Hello?" I call out just to let her know that I'm here. I hear papers rustling and feet shuffling so I know that I'm not alone and she's in here somewhere.
I round the corner so I can see the stage and sure enough, she's standing up on it with the piano right in the middle. And it's just her, which puts me at ease. It would have been nice to have the entire club sing to me, but I didn't realize how badly I wanted to be alone with her until I saw her standing there by herself. She rustles through a few pages of sheet music and doesn't even acknowledge me, probably because she was expecting me. I hold onto the railing and jog up the steps that lead onto the stage.
"I've come to collect my birthday surprise. The one that I told you not to even do for me," I lean against the piano and watch the worried look on her face. She gets a wrinkle in the middle of her forehead when something is stressing her out and I want to kiss it until it goes away. "Rachel? You okay?"
"I can't find it!" She huffs and starts from the very beginning of her sheet music folder again: "I put it in here last night before I went to bed so I wouldn't forget it and now it's not here! How does it just disappear? Sheet music doesn't just disappear!"
"Hey, relax," I put my hand on her arm to settle her. "It's just me. You know I don't care if you sing me a song either way. But tell me what you're looking for. I'll help you find it."
"No, because then it wouldn't be a surprise! I had it all planned out, I was going to sing it and then I was going to give you the present and it was going to be beautiful and it —"
I interrupt her frantic freak out by kissing her. It's a simple little kiss, not much emotion behind it and no open mouths or tongue. Just my lips right up against hers and our noses smashing together because I didn't tilt my head before I leaned in. Just a short, sweet, chaste little kiss to calm her down.
"Okay?" I ask when I pull away, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Now relax. You're too wound up, you're too panicked. It doesn't have to be perfect. It's okay if it's not perfect."
"Okay," she sighs and closes her music folder.
"Why don't you start with the gift and then come back to looking?"
She nods her head at me, then kneels down on the floor next to the piano and digs inside of her purse. I hate the way I think sometimes because while I do think that it's very important to respect Rachel and not objectify her, I always catch myself staring at her and thinking about all the things I want to do to her. Like now, for example. She's kneeling down and looking for my birthday gift inside of her purse but all I can think about is how I can see her underwear up underneath her skirt. They're yellow and completely lace and they'd rip so easily if I had the chance to rip them. I could put her on top of this piano and tear them off of her and have her singing in a different way. Yeah, we'd be expelled for sure if someone came in here and caught me with my face between her legs during school hours, but it's my birthday. It's my birthday and the cupcake she made me earlier isn't even half as delicious as she tastes. God, I know I sound horrible. I should respect her and not think about her like that, but I can't help it. She does things to me. Unholy things.
Just as I feel like I'm about to start having another inconvenient flashback to the sex we had at my sleepover, she stands upright and has a small jewelry box in her hand. Thank god for that. Because if she hadn't found it when she did, I probably wouldn't have been able to control myself with her.
"So I thought about getting you a ring," she tucks the pieces of her bangs that are trying to come out behind her ears and hands me the box. "I saw a really pretty one at the jewelry store and I thought that your finger would look really pretty with it on but then I didn't want you to think that I was giving you a promise ring or trying to make you commit to me or anything like that because we're only sixteen and now seventeen and a ring like that could have too many emotions and preconceived notions attached to it, so then I thought about maybe a necklace. I noticed that you broke your cross and you haven't worn a necklace since then, so I just…"
She holds her breath as I flip the lid of the box open. Oh my goodness… she didn't… it's perfect…
"I thought maybe you could wear it. I know it's probably stupid and also a little egocentric to think that you'd want to wear me around your neck, but maybe it could be cute? If you don't like it, I kept the receipt and I can always exchange it for something a little more conspicuous and a lot less in your face," she continues.
"Stop it," I mumble and work on taking it out of the box so I can put it on. "I love it. Help me put it on."
"Really?" She raises her eyebrows.
"Yes. I'm going to wear it, so help me put it on," I turn around and pull my hair to one side of my neck so she can clasp it for me. She buckles it around my neck with ease and when I turn back around to face her, I look down to make sure it's dangling low and even. It's so beautiful. It's so simple, with a plain gold chain and a gold "R" charm that's so little you have to squint to know that it's an "R." But it's so elegant and beautiful and something that only she and I would understand. "How's it look?"
"You make anything look great, Quinn," she smiles at me softly, then moves her own hair out of the way so I can see her neck. "...How about mine?"
"You… what?" I take a step closer to her and squint the way you'd have to squint to make mine out. Around her neck, she is wearing the identical match to what I'm wearing, except her charm is a very tiny "Q." I put my fingers against her charm and smile at it because I've never felt so… wanted in my entire life. Jessica told me once that it's not healthy to feel like you belong to someone, and Bailey and I have been working on my possession issues as well. But in this moment, I feel like it's okay to belong to someone. I belong to Rachel and she belongs to me and maybe it's not healthy, but it sure is beautiful. "You are… so incredible, Rachel Berry."
She blushes and backs away from me with two tiny steps, heading for the piano bench. "Please, please. Hold your applause until after the performance." She sits down at the piano bench and unfolds two small pages of sheet music. "I found it in my purse. You didn't think you were getting out of today without a song, did you?"
"I guess I didn't," I lean against the piano and hold my chin in the palm of my hand so I can prepare to listen.
"Hello everyone," she speaks loud like she's trying to project to the entire room, which makes me grin. "I'm Rachel Berry and I'm going to sing a little song for you tonight."
Still smirking, I start chanting her name in the kind of loud whisper that mimics what a crowd full of a thousand people would sound like. "Rachel! Rachel! Rachel! Rachel!"
"Settle down, settle down," she waves her hands at the empty seats instead of at me, but I still stop chanting anyway. "I'd like to dedicate this song to my soulmate on the most special day of the year, her birthday."
As soon as she plays the first note, a tingle arches across my scalp and I shudder with the chills. My eyes slowly close when she starts singing, because I just want to take all of this in. This is another moment that I wish I could bottle up and freeze.
"She says I smell like safety and home. I named both of her eyes, 'forever and please don't go.' I could be morning sunrise all the time, all the time… yeah. This could be good, this could be good."
Even though my eyes are closed, two stray tears slip out from underneath my eyelids as she sings the chorus with such Rachel-esque beauty. And I don't know if she's really just this insanely talented or if it sounds better because she actually relates to this song or if it's both, but she sounds SO much better than she's ever sounded. Her voice fills the entire room and projects and I wish I could have her sing me to sleep every single night. I can't stop crying. I said I didn't want her to sing to me but I'm glad she did. She couldn't have picked a more fitting song. I mouth the lyrics as she sings the chorus.
"And I can't change, even if I tried. Even if I wanted to. And I can't change, even if I tried. Even if I wanted to… my love, my love, my love, my love… she keeps me warm. She keeps me… warm."
I open my eyes and wipe my tears with the backs of my hands, then sit down on the bench right next to her. I don't know how to play the piano, so I just watch her hands flow along the keys for a minute until she grabs mine. She grabs mine and placed them right on top of hers and it's like we're both playing. We're both playing and she's looking at me with that beautiful face and I'm sad and overwhelmed because I love her so much. Overwhelmed because I love her so much and would do anything in this world for her but sad because she will never know exactly how much I love her and I just can't… how is it healthy for one person to feel this strongly about another?
"What's your middle name? Do you hate your job? Do you fall in love too easily? What's your favorite word? Do you like kissing girls? Can I call you baby? Yeah, yeah."
I lick my lips and take a deep breath because even though this is supposed to be my birthday gift, I want to sing with her. I can't hold my own against a powerhouse voice like hers, but who cares? I want to sing with my girlfriend.
"She says people stare 'cause we look so good together," we sing together in unison and that line makes us both smile. "And I can't change even if I tried. Even if I wanted to. And I can't change even if I tried. Even if I wanted to. My love, my love, my love, my love… she keeps me warm, she keeps me warm. She keeps me warm, she keeps me warm."
She guides my hands to the next notes on the piano keys and when I open my mouth to sing the next part with her, I notice that she doesn't open hers. She lets me go solo for the next part and maybe she did it because she's tired of singing or maybe she did it so she can focus on guiding me through these notes. But I personally think she did it because she knows how much this part means to me…
"I'm not crying on Sundays…" Ironically, tears fall down my cheeks when I sing that line because I did. I really did. Maybe it wasn't on Sundays, but I felt like my life was in shambles because I kept this secret inside of me and all I did was cry. All I did was cry and wish that it wasn't true, that I wasn't gay and that I was normal. "I'm not crying on Sundays…"
"Love is patient, love is kind," she sings my echo so softly that her voice sounds like it might break. "Love is patient, love is kind."
"I'm not crying on Sundays."
"Love is patient, love is kind."
I take my hands away from the piano as soon as my part is done so I can wipe the tears from my face, but she jumps right in to pick up so the song doesn't miss a beat. And I'm too emotional and in my head to close it out but it's okay because she gets it and she closes it out herself, with her beautiful angelic voice.
"My love, my love, my love, my love… she keeps me warm. She keeps me warm…"
When she's done playing the last notes, she doesn't take her hands away from the keyboard immediately. She keeps them there, just rested on the white keys and so I put my hands on top of hers again.
But this time, I'm holding her hands instead.