I'm still trying to figure out how we ended up here.
I walked through the door and went into the kitchen to say hello and tell her that I was back and dinner with Rachel's dads went very well. I reached up into the pantry and took three Oreos out of the package, and she accused me of having sex with Rachel while I was at her house because she noticed that I wasn't wearing the same dress I left the house in.
I'm not used to that, by the way. I'm not used to someone noticing every little thing about me. If I were still living at home with my own parents, I could have walked out the house butt naked and painted red. Mom wouldn't have known the difference and she certainly wouldn't have noticed if I came back home a little different than what I left. But here, living under the same roof as the Joneses, they notice everything about me.
If I don't completely finish the food on my plate at dinner time, Mom is putting her hand on my forehead and asking me if I'm feeling okay. If I don't come straight through the door and do my homework, Dad automatically assumes that I must not have any because he knows how I like to do my homework right away. Here, they notice every minute detail about me and I will admit that it's kind of nice. But I sort of wish I could go back to having a mother who was blissfully ignorant.
Anyway, somehow I ended up here on the couch and Mercedes ended up right next to me. After I practically got on my knees and begged for trust and begged her to believe that I didn't have sex with Rachel despite how much I wanted to today, she dismissed me up to my room. She looked at me with a playful look on her face, rolled her eyes at me and told me to go get washed up for bed. And I thought that was the end of it, I swear I did.
But as I was pulling the blankets back to get into bed, Dad knocked on my door and asked me to come downstairs for a second and I automatically knew that it was either something about Rachel, something about Puck, something about Beth, or something about my real parents. I don't get called out of my room past nine on a school night for many reasons. Mom usually tries to make sure me and Mercedes are at least in our rooms by nine, so I knew that if I was being called out of my room, it had to be something major.
He pulled Mercedes out of her room too, so I knew then that it was something about Rachel, probably. And I held my breath all the way down the steps. I held my breath until I finally sat on the couch.
When me and Mercedes both sit down and settle in for whatever it is that they're about to talk to us about, Mr. Jones turns the TV off and Mrs. Jones wheels the ottoman in front of the coffee table so that they can both sit in front of us.
Please don't tell me you're getting a divorce. That would really suck. I don't know why my mind has to automatically jump to a divorce, but that just seems like the only logical reason. I've watched way too many of these TV shows and lived through too many of these family talks. I know that when the parents both sit down and talk to you, it's never anything good. But please, God. I know I haven't been the best Christian lately and I kind of gave up on you. But if you're listening right now and you can hear me, please don't let the Joneses get a divorce. Please. This is the only shred of normalcy I've ever had and they're better together. Please.
"What's this about?" Mercedes yawns. Your parents are about to tell us that they're getting a divorce. Either that or somebody died. Take your pick. "Can we make it quick? I'm tired."
"Me too," I say under my breath and do my best to avoid eye contact because if I have to look them in the eye while they tell me this terrible news, I might go ballistic and start crying and never stop.
"We don't mean to keep you from bed," Mr. Jones folds his hands and rests them on his kneecap. "But we've got some things we wanna talk to you girls about."
"Yeah, your daddy and I been talkin'," Mrs. Jones puts her hand against her husband's hand which really relaxes me a bit. "And we think it's time we start gettin' real with you two. Mmmkay?"
"Oookay…?" Mercedes looks over at me but I don't look at her. I feel like if I move my eyes, I'll cry. I have to wait until this wave of anticipation passes me. "Real about what?"
Mr. and Mrs. Jones both but their heads down, then they look at each other, then they put their heads down again. It's like they both know what they want to say but neither one of them want to be the one to say it. God, this is going to be really bad. Maybe it's not a divorce. Maybe someone is dying. Or someone is sick. Or… or no, what if they're going to give me back? What if they're making me go home? Oh please, no. No, no. No. I'll be good. I'll be better. I won't ever talk back to either of you, I won't EVER have sex with Rachel again, I'll never run away, I'll never not answer my phone! I'll be good! I promise! Please! Please don't give me away!
Mr. Jones sighs and runs his hand across his smooth, bald head. "We know you are… old enough and —"
Mrs. Jones puts her hand up to cut him off and just starts talking for herself. "We know you two be having sex." Oh my god, seriously?! Is THAT what this is all about?! Oh sweet Jesus, my heart was in my ASS! My heart fell down to my ASS! I clutch my hand over my heart to calm myself back down as she continues talking. "We know it's a fact of life and we know you two is teenagers. Them hormones is ragin' and you're curious about stuff and we know there ain't nothing we can do to stop it from happenin'."
"But we wanna make sure that you two are being safe." Mr. Jones speaks up next.
"My god," Mercedes slumps her head against the couch and looks up to the ceiling. "You canNOT be serious. You're really gonna give us 'the talk'? Right now? At 9:45 at night? I thought we already did this! I thought it was done! In sixth grade when I came home with blood in my underwear, I thought that was the end of it!"
"Yeah, no offense Mom and Dad, but my other Mom and Dad already kinda… took care of it," I look away because eye contact is way too painful now. God this is really freaking golden. I got myself all worked up for nothing but the sex talk.
"You two ain't gotta talk, I just want you two to listen." Mrs. Jones says and me and Mercedes both exchange a desperate look. "Obviously we ain't gonna sit here and tell you what goes where and how it's s'posed to feel when it goes there. And I ain't gonna sit here and tell you how the plumbing works. But I want some honesty from you two so I know how to go about getting you girls protected. Capiche?"
"Are you asking if we're virgins?" I cringe when the question comes out of my mouth but I'd rather just hear the question for whatever it is. "...Because I can tell you right now, Mercedes isn't."
"Are you SERIOUS right now, Quinn?!" Mercedes punches me in the thigh pretty hard and I rub it in between laughter. "Seriously?! Neither are you!" She punches me in my shoulder this time.
"Yeah, they know that already!" I laugh as I rub the sore spot on my shoulder now. "I'm gonna go ahead and assume they figured that one out after I pushed a baby out of me."
"She lost her virginity before me!" She points at me and even though it's dim in the living room, I can so tell that her cheeks are red. "I just lost mine this year and she lost hers last year, so she lost it before me."
"I was raped out of my virginity, so it doesn't count. Butthead." As soon as I say that, I notice how the energy kind of shifts and everyone — mostly just Mom and Dad — grows extremely uncomfortable. I forgot that it's not really okay to joke about. I mean rape jokes are never funny. Trust me, I know that. But it's like if I don't make fun of it from time to time, all I do is remember how bad it hurts and how much it sucks that my first time having sex was with someone who didn't love me and with someone who raped me. I know it's a dark thing to joke about. But sometimes I just… have to, you know? "Sorry." I mumble under my breath once I realize that nobody found my joke funny.
"Look," Mr. Jones takes a sip of Sprite from his coffee mug on the table. "It doesn't really matter when you two became… active. We're not concerned about that. What we are concerned about is that you girls are being safe. We want you to use condoms, at all times."
"So… in me and Rachel's case, latex gloves?" Mercedes starts cracking up as soon as I say that and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep my own giggles inside.
"Quinn." Mr. Jones closes his eyes and Mrs. Jones just rubs her temple.
"Shut up, Quinn," Mercedes shakes her head and laughs so hard the entire couch shakes.
"What? I'm just asking!" I'm just super uncomfortable and sometimes the way I deal with uncomfortable things is making a mockery of them. I just can't help it. I don't really think this is funny and I know they're just trying to be good parents and educate us on sex issues but I'm SO uncomfortable.
"I told you we should've talked to them separately, 'Trice." Mr. Jones mumbles.
"Alright so since you two ain't take anything we say seriously then fine, I'll just cut to the chase." Mrs. Jones clasps her hands together and stands up. "I'm calling tomorrow to make you appointments. 'Cedes I'm calling to get you in so we can get you some birth control and Quinn I'm calling so you can get a check up."
"Wait, WHAT?!" Mercedes instantly stops laughing and her jaw drops. "Birth control?! Why?!"
"Because I ain't tryna be a grandmama at the age uh 47!"
"Me and Sam are careful! We use condoms and he pulls —"
"Okay, this is where I cut out. You got it from here, right?" Mr. Jones stands up.
"This ain't up for debate, Mercedes! Your ass is going on birth control." Mrs. Jones waves her husband away and keeps scolding Mercedes with her finger pointed toward her. "You wanna have sex, fine. I can't stop that. But you ain't bringing me no grandbabies home. Nope."
"Quinn brought Beth home! And you love her!"
"Okay, first of all," I put my index finger up and interrupt their conversation. "Leave me out of this. It's you going on birth control, not me. And second of all, my munchkin is perfect. Who wouldn't love her?"
"It's not fair! Quinn's the one who needs birth control. She's obviously fertile as heck and —" I whack her with the couch pillow just to shut her up and she looks at me like she would strangle me if she could. "I'm just saying. Why am I the only one going on birth control here?"
"Because last time I checked, you can't get pregnant having sex with another girl." Mom starts cleaning up the living room so we can all head to bed for the night. "Now the second Quinn bring home a lil boyfriend, she gonna get the same treatment. But 'til then, she don't need nothing. …'Cept maybe a box of gloves."
Me and Mercedes both burst out into laughter as we get up off the couch. While I admit that this conversion was a bit awkward for my liking, I'm really glad that it wasn't anything more serious than what it was and I think that it's time I stop thinking negatively. I guess it all just boils down to the fact that I feel like they still might decide that I'm not what they want. I'm getting more comfortable here as the days go on and feeling more secure. But I still feel like it's all going to go hell in a handbasket one day because this is just too good to be true.
I live in a house where sex isn't taboo. Here, sex isn't some thing that we just push aside and act like it doesn't exist. We don't have to swallow or natural urges and pretend like we don't have hormones running rampant through our bodies. Here, we talk about the things that make us human and teenagers. And I never thought I would be in a situation with two parents who allow me to do that.
I side-step the coffee table so I can follow Mercedes back up the steps because it's been one long day for me and I'm exhausted.
Meeting Rachel's dads was awesome, but I'm just kinda tired out from it all.
November 14
I think I've mastered the art of not noticing when people stare.
Ever since Jacob Ben Israel posted on Instagram about me and Rachel being a couple, people have started to stare. And I guess I'd be lying if I said I didn't sort of expect that because why wouldn't they stare? Quinn Fabray, McKinley's hottest and most popular girl in the entire school, just came out as gay. And if that's not enough to surprise you, then wait until you get a load of who she's dating. Her girlfriend is none other than Rachel Berry, her self-professed archnemesis.
You see what I mean? It's a crazy story, one for the ages. So it makes sense that people would stare. But I think I'm starting to master tuning them out because I really don't notice the eyeballs and the points and the whispers anymore.
Like today, Rachel held my hand and walked me to my class after breakfast. I'm pretty sure people were pointing and laughing at us but in a way, I guess it just didn't matter because I was happy walking there with my girlfriend's hand nestled in mine. Maybe someday me and Rachel will be brave enough to kiss at the end of our hallway route but I don't think that day is anytime soon. Sure we kissed that day Jacob Ben Israel caught us and snapped a picture, but I think we've learned to be a bit more careful through that.
On the other hand, I wonder if maybe some people think that me and Rachel are just really close friends and while a part of me feels good about that because it's safer for people to think we're friends, another part of me hates it because I'm proud of my girlfriend and I want people to know that. I guess being gay in high school is hard and it's a process and it's not one I've mastered just yet.
I've started to think that maybe if school is the worst we ever get, then that's okay. It's eight hours a day with people we don't like. But after that eight hours, she and I can go home and be whatever we want to be. We can kiss and hold hands and stare at each other. And nobody in this goddamn world is going to care.
Maybe this is what it was supposed to feel like all along, back when I was dating boys.
November 15
I don't think I'm going to eat today.
When me and Mercedes got home from Glee club, we were both starving and decided to eat dinner together before even thinking about our homework. I was so hungry that I forgot to take my shoes off at the door and since it decided to rain today, I had mud on the bottoms of my shoes. I accidentally tracked mud into the kitchen and Mrs. Jones yelled at me and told me to clean it up.
For a minute, I forgot who she was. She stood there in front of the kitchen sink with her hands still wet and sudsy from the dishwater and she yelled for me to get the mop and clean up my mess. Only, I didn't see her. Instead, I saw and I heard Judy Fabray screaming at me and telling me how careless I am. I was right back in my old kitchen with my real mother yelling at me and telling me what a lazy, sloppy, worthless child I am (in so many words) and it got to me so much that I told her to shut up. I looked Mrs. Jones in the eye and told her to shut up.
She took my phone, which I gave up willingly because I knew that I was wrong. She took my phone and yelled at me some more and I stomped up the steps to my room and I've been up here ever since.
The truth is that I forgot to take my medicine this morning and I've been kind of moody all day because of it. I stayed up really late last night watching Beth, because Shelby was late getting home. I was so exhausted when I got home that I went straight to bed and I didn't take my PTSD pill. Then I slept in a little too long this morning and had to rush to get ready in time for school, which made me forget to take my bipolar pill too. And today was like a whirlwind.
I was mad at Rachel because she didn't save me a seat in breakfast, then I cried alone in the bathroom because the cafeteria didn't have chicken nuggets for lunch like the menu said they were going to. I don't even like their ham and cheese sandwiches, but I bought three of them and ate them all one after the other inside the bathroom. When I threw up, I felt happy. No, not just happy. I was ELATED. And I thought I would ride that happy wave for a while, but then I wasn't happy anymore. I was sad because I told myself that I wasn't going to throw up anymore. Then I got mad because I got a 98% on my Stats test. Then I was sad again in glee club because Santana didn't hold my hand like she usually does during our one number for sectionals. So then when I got home and she was yelling at me about my shoes being muddy, I just…. snapped. And I told her to shut up.
And now I don't think I deserve to eat dinner today so I don't think I will.
I wonder if maybe I should have taken Frannie up on her offer.
When I called her on my birthday, she told me that mom and dad act like I don't exist anymore. It made her angry and she told me that she would come home and finish her last two semesters at Bowling Green or Ohio State. She told me that she'd come home, get an apartment for me and her and that she'd be my primary guardian if mom and dad couldn't get their heads out of their asses.
I told her that I didn't need her to do that because I'm being taken care of by the Joneses.
But I don't know how many times I can be disrespectful before they give me the boot, so.
Maybe I should have taken Frannie up on her offer.
November 16
She counts my pills.
I didn't know that she did that, but she just told me that she does before I came up to my room to go to bed.
She asked me to sit with her on the couch and I did. I sat right beside her on the couch and she opened her arms up and I just laid my head down on her shoulder and she rubbed my back. And she told me that she noticed my pills were off by one day and told me that she forgives me for telling her to shut up. She told me that she forgives me, but if I ever tell her to shut up again that I will be picking my lips up off the floor because she's going to smack them off my face.
It felt good to be back on track.
We sat on the couch for a while because me and Mercedes accidentally got interested in the documentary about Ted Bundy that Mom and Dad were watching. I sat there with my head on Mom's shoulder and Mercedes sat there with her head on her other shoulder. And the three of us watched the TV until neither me nor Mercedes could keep our eyes open.
I'm tired now, so I'm going to finish what I started on the couch with Mom and go to bed.
But I just thought I should say that she counts my pills.
November 20
Two words:
Winter. Formal.
Before the start of today, I was extremely excited for winter formal. The posters just went up to advertise it around school and tickets are only $60 this year and I had ideas for the colors I wanted to wear with Rachel.
But I was sitting in the library typing up my English paper and some guy on the basketball team that I've never seen before in my life sat beside me. I thought that he was just going to get up and leave me alone but no. He turned to me and asked me if I would go to the winter formal with him and I politely told him no, but then his tough friend just had to say something. When I saw his friend's face, I thought he looked familiar. Then I realized that he was the same fat redhead that had a hand in me choking Puck the day we skipped school and went to Cedar Point.
Instead of just letting his friend get rejected nicely, the fat redhead felt the need to tell his friend that I rejected him because I was a "carpet muncher" who wanted to go to the formal with "prude ass" Rachel Berry instead. And while I didn't cry, it did sting.
Because I guess that will go down in history as my first encounter as getting bullied for being gay.
Anyway, I don't want to go to winter formal anymore.
I know she was looking forward to it, but I wonder if Rachel would be okay if we just stayed in and ate pizza.
I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that I was called a name and the joy of winter formal was taken from me. I'm trying my hardest to not be sad about it.
So instead, I'm thinking about how I have to go to the gynecologist with Mercedes and Mom today.
Mom wants me to get checked for STDs and lasting trauma from being raped.
Joy.
A/N: I know that this chapter was short and not much happened in it, but it's all just leading up to the holidays and I'm so excited for you guys to see what I have planned for the holidays with Quinn and Rachel! Starting with thanksgiving! :) also, I know Quinn's journals probably seem short and spacey but it's purposeful. She missed a dose of her medicine and it kind of messed her thoughts up again. I hope you noticed that she was getting better (because of the medicine) but her thoughts are cloudy again. She'll get better again though! :)
Happy New Year, guys! Thanks for sticking with me with this story! :D
P.S. To user Jehfret: I didn't ignore your questions about Bailey. I totally plan on answering them soon, next time Quinn has a session. I wish you had a FF account here so I could PM you! ugh! lol. anyway, happy new year!