I'm starting to like seeing Bailey on the weekends better than seeing her in school, and I think it might be because she seems so much more like me on the weekends. On the weekends, she doesn't have to dress like she's on her way to a permanent business meeting. There are no stockings and neatly ironed dress pants. There are no big flashy necklaces or blouses with dramatic, decorative sleeves. On the weekends, she wears jeans and a baseball t-shirt. Her hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail with strands hanging out and she wears next to no makeup at all.

Maybe I'm just seeing Bailey in a new light after learning about her and realizing that she's got a life outside of helping me work through my complicated shit. Or maybe we're both just getting more comfortable around each other in general. Either way it goes, I'd take our Saturday sessions with a bag of McDonalds on the desk between us over school sessions any day.

Bailey scrapes the bottom of the barbecue sauce container with her chicken nugget and pops it into her mouth before peeling back the foil on another container of sauce.

"Well," she says as she chews. "Who would you have voted for? You know your secret's safe with me, it's not like I'm gonna go and tell Mercedes or Rachel. I'm just curious."

"Definitely Mercedes," I suck a little bit of my honey mustard dipping sauce off my finger before I pick up another chicken nugget. I can't believe she and I are about to devour or second 20-piece chicken nugget box. "I think Mercedes deserves the solo. She deserves it and she's a good singer and she deserves a chance to shine. I just didn't want Rachel to be mad at me."

"But things are settled now though, right?" She takes a long sip of her sweet tea and shakes it so that the ice disperses more evenly. "You and Rachel are fine? You and Mercedes are fine?"

"I guess," I take a drink of my own tea. The truth is that I don't like sweet tea but Bailey bought it for me and I don't want to be rude by not drinking it. "Me and Rachel haven't really talked about it. We kind of had a fight after all of it. She told me she was talking to Finn and I guess I got weird about it or whatever, so we stopped talking. And we didn't talk in school yesterday either, really. I mean, we did. She sat with me at lunch and we talked about our plans for the weekend, but not really about me not voting for her or her talking to Finn. We just kinda glossed over it. So I guess we're okay."

"It seems like Rachel does that often."

"Does what?"

"Evades things. It seems like if she doesn't want to talk about it, she just kinda flees the conversation and comes back whenever she thinks it's all settled down. Does she do that a lot?"

"Every single time we argue," I admit and grab yet another chicken nugget. "She acts like she's taking the high road by not responding to my texts whenever we argue. Then she waits like a day or something and then she comes to me and acts like nothing ever happened. It's super fucking annoying." Her eyes get really wide when she hears me drop the f-bomb, so even though I have a mouth full of food now, I take the opportunity to apologize. "Sorry. Excuse my language."

"No, no," she shakes her head and grins at me. "It's fine. I just never expected you to say that. But if it makes you feel any better… I get it. Dealing with someone who evades things like that can totally be… super fucking annoying."

We both laugh as soon as that rolls off her tongue and I don't know why she's laughing really, but I know I'm laughing because hearing Bailey cuss just seems so wrong! I didn't even think words like that were in her vocabulary, but she said it so freely like it's something she says nearly every day! It sounds so weird coming out of her mouth! Her voice is too squeaky and pure to cuss!

"So how did your parents take it when you and Mercedes had that fight?" She nudges the last three chicken nuggets in my direction, and when I shake my head at her offer, she tosses them in the trash. "Did they like, you know, pick sides?"

"Not really," I shake my head again and pull my legs up onto the chair with me. Being around Bailey in her office makes me want to get comfortable. "They actually did really good with not picking sides and just trying to see both halves of the story. Like, when I got home from school that day, Mercedes was sobbing and Mom was just holding her. They were sitting on the couch and Mercedes was crying so hard and Mom just kept rubbing her back. So I thought they were going to be mad at me for not voting for her, but they actually weren't. They comforted her but also comforted me and I was like, super shocked."

"Why? Were you expecting them to pick sides? Were you expecting them to agree with Mercedes?"

"Kind of," I admit. "I guess I just thought that they'd be mad at me for making her cry, you know?"

"Because you're not their biological child and Mercedes is. I gotcha." She pulls her hair out of her ponytail and starts putting it back up into a neater one. "Well it seems like they do a really good job at trying to make you feel like you're welcomed. With how they buy you stuff to make up your room and get you a phone and stuff. It seems like they really go out of their way so you have a place where you feel accepted."

"They do." I look down at the carpet because I felt a tear coming on for a second but it's passed now. "Like on Thursday after me and Mercedes has that argument at the dinner table, I went upstairs to call my mom. My real mom, I mean. I went upstairs to call her because… because I guess I just… thought that it would be better for me to come home. I guess I —"

"Why would you think that? Why would you think that going home would be better than staying right where you are?"

"Because sometimes I feel like I'm a burden to them." I look back down at the carpet because that same tear is coming on stronger and I don't know if I can fight it this time. "They do a lot for me. They took me in while I was pregnant and they took me in again. Now they're literally letting me stay with them for free, taking on the role of my parents and I just… I just know that I'm not their responsibility. So when I do things like mouth off or not listen or make their daughter cry by not voting for her…"

"You think they're going to think you're not worth it?"

"Yeah?" I shrug. "I guess? I don't know. I just thought that going home would make me feel better because at least then I belong. If I go out to the store with my mom, I'm not going to get weird looks because I'm white and she's black. If I mouth off or do something bad, she has no choice but to take care of me because I'm actually her kid, you know? I thought that going home would make me feel better about everything. But he hung up on me…" I bite my lip as the tears roll down. "He freaking hung up on me."

"Your dad answered the phone?"

"Yep," I sigh. "He answered the phone and asked if I was Frannie. The second I told him it was me? Click. And I just don't understand how a parent could do that to their child, Bailey. I don't get it. I could never do that to my daughter, I could never just wake up one day and decide that I'm done loving her."

"Well Quinn, you know…" She takes her glasses off like she always does whenever she's about to say something poignant. "Sometimes, it's hard for us to admit that our parents are doing something wrong. They're our parents and we want to see the absolute best in them always because we know that they did their best for us. You know? Our parents are our heroes and we don't want to ever belittle them or make them feel bad. So we just tend to brush over the things they do wrong and throw blinders on so we don't see them. But admitting that our parents are wrong doesn't mean we love them any less, okay?"

"Okay."

"Your parents suck, Quinn." She says that so bluntly, so matter-of-factly, that I lift my head and look at her to make sure I actually heard her right. She smirks trying to hold back her laughter, and she does a pretty decent job. "I'm sorry to put it that way, but they do. I know your mom wasn't always horrible and she had her good moments. And I know your dad had a few good moments there too. But your parents suck and you need to lower your expectations for them. Stop expecting them to behave like normal, sane, rational, decent people. Because they're not. Your mom is too selfish to be a mother, she's just not equipped for it. And that's okay because some people just aren't. She's worried about pleasing your father before pleasing her kids and while that doesn't make her a bad person, it makes her a bad mother. Period. And your father… he just doesn't like to let up any control. He couldn't control you having sex, he couldn't control you getting pregnant and he couldn't control anything after that. It has nothing to do with who you are as a person, it has everything to do with your father loving control more than he loves you."

"I know," I sniff and wipe my eyes as I pull myself together. "I know that everything you're saying is the truth, but I can't help it… I just keep thinking about them. Like it's about to be Thanksgiving and I'm not spending it with them. They didn't come see me on my birthday and now I'm not spending Thanksgiving with them. For the first time since I can remember, I won't be sitting in front of the TV watching football with my dad after we eat turkey. And I won't be there to eat the chocolate pie my mom made. I know I shouldn't be sad, but I am."

"You have a right to feel however you feel, honey." She hands me some tissues so I can properly wipe my face. "Your feelings are your feelings and you can feel however you need to feel. But listen to me when I tell you that you are spending Thanksgiving exactly where you need to be. You will be surrounded by people who love you for who you are, Quinn. And that's what you want. You want the good people. The people who matter. Blood doesn't make a family. Your family is whoever is happy to have you and whoever realizes how great of a girl you are."

I guess she's right. I guess I'm not really wrong for being so upset about not spending the holiday with my mom and dad since it's the first holiday in my life that I won't be with some members of my natural family, but I think I should be grateful that I've been welcomed into a really great one. The Joneses are happy to have me. No matter what, they consistently show me. They love me and they're happy to have me for as long as I'll have them and I'm just happy to have them.

"How are you spending Thanksgiving?" I ask her as I throw my soiled tissues away. While I am asking just to take the heat off myself so I can pull it together enough to finish out the session, I do actually care. I am actually genuinely curious as to how Bailey spends her holidays. "Do you do anything special?"

"We usually drive down to Bellefontaine to my parents' house but not this year." She mumbles as her concentration is actually on writing down a few of her notes.

"Why not this year?"

"Because…" Her voice trails off as she continues to write but she picks up where she left off once she's finished writing. "My son's spending Thanksgiving with his dad this year. He's going to spend it with my ex and his new girlfriend."

"Oh?" I raise my eyebrow and settle in because this seems like it'll make a good story. I think asking Bailey about her personal life and getting in depth is crossing a line, but I think most of me and Bailey's sessions cross lines, so whatever. "A new woman? How do we feel about her? Do we like her or do we hate her?"

"She's alright. She's a teacher. Middle school English or something like that, I don't remember. But she seems nice. I met her at Quinn's hockey game the other day. She seemed normal." She shrugs.

"Normal how?"

"Like… she bathes and brushes her teeth normal," she says and we both laugh when she does. "I know the bar is on the actual ground, but you know. It's not my business who he dates now. Just as long as whoever she is treats my son right, I don't care."

"I guess that's a good attitude to have." I know I shouldn't ask... but I'm really, really curious… "When did you get divorced? Is this like, recent or has it been for a while? I mean to be honest, I didn't really think you were old enough to be married, let alone divorced. With a ten year old."

"Yeah, well we got married young," she tucks her hair behind her ears. "His family's like, super republican and old fashioned, so when I got pregnant it was their idea for him to marry me. I was young. I was eighteen and not really in a position to say no when he asked me to marry him. And it was good for a while, actually. We had our own little apartment, we were doing our own little thing, we were raising Quinn together, I was going to school and he was working in the oil fields. It was good."

"So then what happened?"

"The relationship just ran its course." She doesn't sound sad when she says that at all, she says it like it's just a fact of life. "You know, when you get married young like that, you don't really know what you want. You haven't seen the world, you don't know what's out there for you. You just take what's in front of you and settle for it. As we got older, we just realized that we wanted different things. And we weren't the same kids we were when we were eighteen and twenty. It was amicable. It's not like we hate each other and it was a bad breakup. The divorce was on good terms."

"Well… do you think you'll ever find love again? Get a boyfriend? Have more kids?"

"Quinn, I'm only 28," she laughs. "I'm only 28 and I graduated from college three years ago, don't write me off just yet! My biological clock isn't ticking!"

"Well I dunno!" I laugh. "I just thought that you'd have a lot of… suitors. I thought people would be lining up to be your boyfriend, I dunno."

"I'm focused on my job and Quinn right now. I think I'll find whoever I'm meant to be with in due time, I'm not rushing it. When the time comes for me to have a boyfriend… or a girlfriend, I don't really discriminate or have a preference, I think it'll be when I'm ready for it spiritually. Until then… I'm just gonna kick ass as a mom and a therapist."

"Kick ass as a mom and a therapist… sounds like a plan." I glance up at the clock and see that my time is just about up. "Well, I have to go. I have to go pick up Beth from Shelby's. I'm watching her at my house tonight, so… Tuesday?"

She looks up at the clock too. "Yeah, Tuesday. I'll see you in school."

"Well… why don't we have our Saturday session on Friday instead? Since you'll be alone for Thanksgiving. I could… keep you company and take your mind off it or whatever. We could just have a Thanksgiving session. On Black Friday."

"Sounds like a plan, girly. I'll bring the pumpkin pie."

"And I'll bring the whipped cream. See you, Bailey."

"Have a good night with your baby, Quinn."

As soon as I get back inside of my car, I grab my phone from the middle console where I always stash it for my sessions with Bailey. I never take my phone inside the building whenever I have a session with her, because I don't want any distractions at all. But every time I go an hour without my phone, I can never hardly wait to open it up and see what I've missed.

Today's missed news? Two missed calls and a text. All from Rachel.

New iMessage

Saturday, November 23

12:27 p.m.

RACHEL: Hey idk why you're not answering your phone but I was calling to see what you're doing later. If you're not doing anything, do you want to come to the harvest festival in Columbus with me and my dads? We go every year. It's an hour and a half away so text me soon please.

iMessage

Saturday, November 23

1:32 p.m.

ME: hey sorry. just got out of therapy. did you guys leave yet?

iMessage

Saturday, November 23

1:35 p.m.

RACHEL: Not yet. Not leaving until 2. You can still come with us if you want to. I really want you to come. I want to make it up to you for being so horrible the last few days. I was mean to you and I want to see you and say sorry.

RACHEL: How was therapy?

iMessage

Saturday, November 23

1:35 p.m.

ME: fppf

ME: *good.

ME: sorry im driving. lol.

ME: leaving 2v

ME: *?

RACHEL: Don't text and drive Quinn.

ME: i'm fine, at red light.

ME: would love to come with you guys. have beth though. have to ask shelby if it's ok to bring her with. have to ask parents too.

RACHEL: Okay well let me know. If you're allowed, meet me at my house as soon as possible. I'll tell my dads to wait for you if you're allowed to go. We won't leave without you.

RACHEL: I hope my mom says yes… I kinda miss Bethie!

ME: she would love the festival

ME: pulling into shelbys now. i'm going to ask. brb.

RACHEL: Kk.

iMessage

Saturday, November 23

2:04 p.m.

ME: shelby doesn't care if we take her to the festival as long as we keep her covered up bc she's getting over being sick. i'm packing her diaper bag then i'll be over. give me like 15 mins.

RACHEL: Okay! Did your parents say yes?

ME: yeah. i have to be home by midnight though. curfew.

RACHEL: That's fine. We won't be that late. We'll wait for you! See you soon. Love you.

ME: see you soon. love you too.

"Maaaa-ma. Maaaa-ma. Mama. Mama. Come on, Bethie. Come on. You can do it." Rachel coos at her and Beth just kinda looks at her like she's speaking an entirely different language to her. Rachel's been at this for the last ten minutes. I don't know why, but she's somehow convinced that Beth can say "mama", even despite the fact that Beth has never said a clear word a day in her life.

I lick the parts of the ice cream cone that are dripping off the sides, then hold it to Beth's mouth so she can take another lick herself. She opens up that tiny little mouth and sticks her little pink tongue out and I scrape the mound of strawberry ice cream across it just to help her out a little. She's so damn cute. I know every mother on the planet thinks that their baby is the cutest thing ever and is absolutely mesmerized by everything their baby does, but Beth truly is special. She's so cute and so sweet and so patient. She watches me every time I take a lick of the ice cream to make sure it doesn't topple over. She watches me with those pretty blue/green eyes and patiently waits for me to let her have another lick.

"Why don't you let her hold it?" Rachel asks just as I'm wiping some napkins across my baby's little chin. "Let her hold it and get all messy. It's not like she doesn't have a change of clothes."

"So Shelby can get mad and yell at me for getting ice cream all over her peacoat? No thanks," I toss the pink napkins into the trashcan beside the table we're sitting at and grab some more. "I don't even know if she's allowed to have ice cream."

"Shelby gives her frozen yogurt, I don't see what the difference really is." Rachel unfastens the bottom button on Beth's little tan and black peacoat.

Shelby let me dress her before I took her out of the house, which was actually really fun and made me wish that I could dress her up every day. I wanted her to be warm since we're outdoors at the end of November, so I put her in a pair of black knitted wool leggings, and I put her in one of the pairs of socks that come up to her knees. Her little feet are stuck inside the pair of UGG boots that match mine, and underneath her peacoat, she's wearing a brown shirt with silver rhinestones all over it. I even put a hat on her head and she looks so cute with her little tufts of blonde curls sticking out the bottom. It's nice outside, actually. It's only in the 50s and there's a very slight breeze blowing and Beth is probably hot in all the layers I dressed her in. But I'd rather her be hot than cold.

"So yeah," Rachel finishes her ice cream by eating the maraschino cherry that was on top, then she throws her container away. "I invited you so I could tell you that I'm sorry."

"For what?" I mumble, mostly concentrating on making sure that Beth gets the ice cream inside of her mouth and not on her outfit. She already got powdered sugar all over it from the funnel cake she ate with me, and a little splatter of sour cream got on her leggings when I tried to share my street taco with her. I think I might get in trouble with Shelby for feeding her all these things that she's probably not supposed to have, but Rachel made a good point earlier when she said that Shelby purées a lot of table food and feeds it to her and she's fine. Besides, I just don't know how to look her in her little eyes and say no whenever she's watching me eat. Okay, I only let her lick the taco. She didn't actually take a bite, I swear.

"For doing what I did to Mercedes." She hands me another napkin when she sees the ice cream dripping again. "And then for getting mad at you for not choosing me over her."

"Well I think the main person you owe an apology to is Mercedes. She's the one who went home crying because her solo got taken away. Why'd you have to do that, Rachel? Why'd you have to make such a big scene? You remember last year when you got sick? And you couldn't belt any high notes for a week either? But we all just cut you some slack because we know how good of a singer you are. Not once did anyone try to take a solo or a performance away from you because you were sick and couldn't belt. That was wrong. Mercedes deserves better than that."

"I know…" She hangs her head. "I guess I wasn't as over it as I thought I was. I didn't think I was still mad about her getting the big solo for regionals, but clearly…" She sighs. "I talked to Mr. Schue yesterday."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And he's gonna give Mercedes the solo back. I told him I didn't want it. And I don't. I don't want it if it's going to make Mercedes feel bad. I'd much rather focus on the duet with me and Finn than take a solo away if it means I'm going to lose a friend like Mercedes. And I didn't mean to put you in a bad place either."

"You can't do that… okay?" I throw the ice cream away since it's almost gone and Beth doesn't seem interested in it anymore anyway. I wipe her cheeks with the napkins and wipe her hands too. "You can't do that, ever."

"I know."

"No Rachel, I mean it. You can't do that to me. You can't tell me to choose between you and Mercedes. I can't and I won't. I love you. I love you so much, but Mercedes is my SISTER. She's my sister, Rachel. I know you don't understand that, but you have to try. You have to try to understand that. Because asking me to choose between two people I love the most in the world isn't fair. It just isn't."

"I know and I'm sorry!" She folds her arms and sighs. "...I guess I just don't know how to share you with Mercedes yet. I guess I'm still learning. I guess I understand how you felt when I was hanging out with Kurt."

"It's not a competition, babe," I reach over and tuck some loose strands behind her ear so I can get a better look at her beautiful face. "It's not a competition between you and Mercedes. You both have all of my love."

Rachel puts her head down on the table and sometimes when she does that, I know it's because she's thinking. And maybe she's thinking about what kind of ride we can go on next. We already walked through the funhouse with Beth and she cried her eyes out the whole time because there were little kids in there with us and they were just screaming at the tops of their lungs.

"I had a long talk with Finn," she mutters, looking away from me as the picks her head up. "A long one. Last night. And I made him understand a few things. I made him understand that we are totally over. He was confused at first, but I think he gets it. I think he gets that I'm with you now."

I want to sit here and bask in this moment for a little while longer, because I know that took a lot out of her. For her to completely shut the door and close the chapter of her life that included Finn in it must have been really hard for her and I appreciate it. Really, I do.

But I can't really enjoy the moment that much longer because Beth starts to cough and then there's little chunky pink vomit all over the table. And we're out of napkins, so when I spring up off the bench to clean her up, I have to head for the table beside us to get some napkins.

Beth starts to cry when I get up, because I think she feels like I'm leaving her. I'm not surprised when I turn around to return to the table with napkins and I see her with her arms outstretched to me.

But I am surprised when she opens her mouth and a very slobbery, jumbled word comes out.

That slobbery word she says is, "Maaama."