Maybe if I didn't have Beth with me, I'd have turned around minutes ago. Maybe if I didn't have Beth with me, I wouldn't have put the car in park, took the key out of the ignition, and got out. Maybe if I didn't have Beth with me, I wouldn't have unstrapped her from the car seat, wrapped a blanket around her chubby body, and walked up the small flight of steps that leads to the front porch I used to know so well. Maybe if I didn't have Beth with me, I wouldn't have rung the doorbell.

But I do have Beth with me, and every time she makes a noise and I feel her hot baby's breath against my neck, I'm filled with so much love and I remember that I'm only doing this for her.

Snowflakes fall gently around us, and I adjust the blanket so make sure she's fully covered and not cold. My fingers are starting to freeze and my teeth are starting to chatter, but Beth is nice and warm and to me, that's the only thing that matters. She picks her head up from where she had it laying on my shoulder and looks at me with her pretty little eyes. I could probably make it back to my car before the door opens if I run, but I have my daughter with me and she's watching me and she gives me all the strength I need.

If I didn't have her with me, I would probably be weak. But with her on my hip, I'm strong.

Just as I'm about to ring the doorbell one more time, the porch light flickers on and I feel hot even though it's freezing outside. I left so abruptly that I didn't bother to put on my coat or any decent shoes. I have nothing but a long sleeved pajama shirt on, a pair of pajama pants, and slip-on sandals. I was standing out here freezing my ass off a second ago, but now my body is on fire and my legs are shaking but not because I'm cold.

I haven't thought this through. It's not like when I heard Mom and Dad talking to the social worker about me coming back here, I had the big bright idea to drive across town and show up on the front porch. I did all of this on a whim and when either Russel or Judy opens the door, I haven't the slightest clue what I'm going to say.

The doorknob rustles as the top lock is taken off, and I hold my breath when I see it actually turning. I close my eyes to steady myself, and open them back up only when I hear the door slowly creaking open…

And then that's it.

The Band-Aid is off, it was ripped, and it was quick and painless.

The door is open, we are face-to-face, and we both stare at each other.

She looks older, aged a bit since the last time I saw her against the clean white walls of the Fabray household. Her usually light blonde hair is town, tousled in waves that allow the gray hairs to show through. Her face is clean and makeup free, and the bags under her eyes suggest that she is tired; but not the kind of tired that sleep can cure. Her mouth hangs open in surprise and for a second, I think I can see sorrow in her blue eyes. She looks at me, head first then down to my toes. She stops breathing when she notices Beth in my arms, and her face melts with the realization of who she is.

I only break our eye contact when I glance over at Beth to make sure she's still okay. I glance at my baby, then back at my mother, then back at Beth, then at my mother again. Our eyes meet again and she automatically knows exactly what I'm asking. And her answer is yes, because she immediately steps aside and opens the door to us.

The heat smacks me in the face as soon as I step foot inside the house, and that's when I remember how much Judy hates being cold. In the wintertime, this house never drops below a toasty 80 degrees, and touching the thermostat is a crime punishable by death and a tongue lashing.

It's muscle memory, the way I take my shoes off on the rug one by one. My toes sink between the plush fabric and I inhale deep, taking in the familiar scent of apples and cinnamon — the only air freshener scent Judy ever buys. It's funny because this house is so familiar, but it feels like I hardly recognize it at all.

I feel so small between the clean white walls, absolutely minuscule when I look at the grand staircase spiraling to my left. The archways loom over my head like darkness creeping out of the closet when you're little, and the hardwood floors seem to go on for days like the ocean. I feel like Alice in Wonderland, shrinking after eating the cake. Everything around me is growing, growing, growing. And I'm like an ant, swallowed up in the chaos.

I lock my arms around Beth as if there's something in the water here that I don't want to get her, then my feet wander a little deeper into the house. In the good living room, I catch a glimpse of Judy aiming the remote at the television set to turn it off. Orange flames crackle in the fireplace and I start to remember that Russel likes to feel its warmth while he's watching TV. He must be around here somewhere.

"Can I get you something?" Judy saunters back into the hallway where me and Beth stand, adjusting the belt around the waist of her robe. "Something to eat? Or drink?" She can't take her eyes off of Beth and I notice. "...An extra blanket for the baby?"

I don't ignore her to be rude, I ignore her because my mind is elsewhere and I didn't really process the question she asked me. My mind is too busy making sense of everything that's changed since the last time I was here, which isn't much. The place is still squeaky clean and everything is still perfectly in place. I never noticed it then, but it looks like our house is being staged for people to come in and look and decide if they want to buy it or not. It doesn't look like people actually live here.

In fact, the only indication that this house is occupied by actual humans are the two fine china plates on the coffee table. They're both completely empty, but red spaghetti sauce still remains and next to them, a bottle of white wine.

Judy traces my eyes to the two dinner plates and knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Daddy isn't home," she says like she just delivered the best news ever. She kinda did. "He ran out to grab more wine and extra firewood. He should be back in a little while if you want to wait. I can make tea if you want tea. Or sugar cookies… your favorite."

"N-No," I finally find my voice and tell her. I shake my head slowly as if I'm trying to avoid offending her. "We're not staying long." I look over at Beth once again to make sure she's okay. And she is, actually. She's perfectly fine. Her eyes are sparkling as she finds fascination with the glass chandelier dangling over our heads. "I just stopped by so you can meet her. I… I want her to meet her grandmother at least once."

"Oh, Quinnie," her jaw trembles beyond her control and her eyes fill up with thick, unshed tears. She takes a step towards me and Beth with her arms out, and I take a step back out of pure instinct. Judy gets it, though. She gets it and she doesn't seem offended. She lowers her arms slowly and just keeps staring at Beth. "She's so beautiful. She looks just like you when you were a baby."

I nod my head and pull Beth's hat off so Judy can see her best feature. Her mound of curls comes tumbling down when I take her hat off, and I use my hands to smooth them down. Judy makes a noise that's a mix between a grunt and a sigh, and it's loud enough to pull Beth's attention off of the chandelier and onto her.

"Can I hold her?" Judy looks at me when she asks that question and though I knew it was coming, I never quite thought about the answer. "Quinnie, please?"

"I don't know…" I mumble.

I take another step away from her and contemplate on putting my shoes on and leaving. I think this was a bad idea. I don't think I thought this through very well. I just thought… I just thought that Beth should know her. I just wanted to be able to look back when Beth is older and be able to tell her that she did meet her grandmother at least once. That's all I wanted for her. But I don't know, I'm not so sure about this anymore…

"She's my granddaughter…" Judy sniffs and uses the collar of her silk robe to wipe her eyes and nose. "And I love her. Look at her…"

Beth does look like her. I never really considered how important it is to be around people who look like you, you know? I just think about the first time I went to stay with the Joneses and I remember feeling like I was in the safest place in the world. It didn't make me feel like I was out of place, didn't make me feel like I was missing anything. Then I got closer to Rachel… and Rachel made me think. Rachel looks at her dads and she tries to see pieces of herself in both of them. Then Shelby comes along and suddenly Rachel knows where she gets it all from. I never thought about how incredibly lonely that must make you feel, to be in a family where nobody looks like you and you look like nobody. I don't want that for Beth. I don't want her to ever feel lonely. And I don't want her to look back and hate me because I never, not once, introduced her to grandmother…

"She might cry," I step closer to Judy and start to hand Beth over to her. "Um, she usually cries when anyone new holds her, but all you have to do is just pat her butt. And tell her who you are, she likes that."

She's gentle with the way she takes Beth from me. She puts her hands firmly under her armpits and lifts her out of my arms like she's this fragile, breakable little creature that will shatter into a million pieces if she falls. Beth looks confused when she's taken away from me, but she doesn't cry. Not even when Judy adjusts her and turns her little body so that they're facing each other.

I think she knows that she's a part of us. I know she's only a tiny little baby and she has a tiny little brain, but I really think that Beth is special and Beth is smart. She looks Judy in her eyes with wrinkled eyebrows like she's trying to figure her out, but she is so perfectly content and calm in her arms that I know my baby knows who she is.

I feel weird, and it's a good weird. I can't really explain it, but it's like a part of me deep down in my soul knows that this was the right thing to do. On some level, I didn't want to share Beth. I didn't want to share her with my family, with Shelby, with the Joneses or with Puck. I wanted her all to myself because I felt like I was the only person in this world who could protect her and keep all the bad stuff from ever touching her.

But when I see my little baby reach out with her chubby hands and touch Judy's cheek… I know I've done the right thing.

"Hi, Beth…" Judy whispers through a round of tears. "Hi there, baby girl. I'm your grandma."


iMessage

Wednesday, December 18

7:47 p.m.

ME: hey. i hope i didn't worry anyone. please tell your parents i'm okay. beth is with me. we are safe and will be home in a little while. it's fine if i'm grounded. i'm sorry to just leave but there was something i had to take care of. i'll explain when i get home.

New iMessage

Wednesday, December 18

7:52 p.m.

MERCEDES: Ok.

"And this right here?" Judy smiles the most genuine smile I've ever seen come across her lips as she peels another Polaroid away from the book. "This is your first time you used the potty." She hands the picture to me and I hold it out in front so Beth can see it too.

I laugh at the way she clearly tried to take the picture in a tasteful manner, but honestly failed. The color's faded a bit since the picture is pretty old, but my golden blonde hair is still noticeable and so is the pink top of my old Barbie potty chair. I'm wearing a white t-shirt in the picture, but my bare naked butt is all exposed and I really hope she hasn't showed this to anyone else.

"Look," Judy points to my face in the picture. "Look how proud you were flushing the toilet."

"Oh my god, is that Marbles?!" I bring the picture up closer to my face and squint my eyes to get a better view of the tiny orange fluff ball in the corner of the picture. "Oh my god, Frannie loved that cat!"

"Oh, she did!" Judy laughs one of those real hearty kind of laughs that makes your stomach sore and looks at the picture with me. "She was absolutely heartbroken when it ran away!"

"I remember that! And I hated it because it attacked me in the basement!" I laugh too and it kind of makes me wish Frannie was here to reminisce with us.

I didn't expect to be here as long as we've been. It's been almost an hour since me and Beth left the Joneses house, and I thought that I was just going to come here, let Beth and Judy and maybe even Russel meet for five seconds, then leave. But it seemed like Beth really liked Judy and then Judy asked me if I wanted to see just how much Beth looked like me as a baby and I kind of said yes. She went down into the basement and dragged out three old photo albums and before I knew it, we were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace looking at pictures of my childhood and then I just… didn't want to leave, I guess.

"What's this one's story?" I peel the next picture that catches my attention off the album paper and hand it to Judy. She stares at the picture for a few moments before she opens her mouth to offer an explanation.

"This is the day we brought you home from the hospital," she hands the picture to me so I can show Beth. "See that blanket? Your grandma Mary made that blanket for Francesca when we found out we were having a little girl."

I stare at the picture myself and grin at the way Frannie is holding me with a really adorable toothless grin. I'm all fresh and pink in the picture without a hat on my shiny bald head. I'm sleeping in Frannie's arms and Judy is in the background folding a pink and white crocheted blanket. Of course I recognize that blanket. I still have that blanket upstairs in my old bedroom somewhere…

"Oh, do you remember that one right there?" Judy points to the next picture of me and Frannie both looking really angry. I'm dressed in a big poofy princess dress and Frannie is wearing a baseball player uniform with dirt all over it. "The first Halloween Daddy and I let you two go off by yourselves?"

"You followed us around the block in the car, mom. Me and Frannie were so mad at you, all our friends were out by themselves, but you followed us around the block in the car. Ooh, we hated you for that!" I nudge her with my elbow. "Even daddy said we were old enough!"

"Yeah, well, there are crazy people in this world and it was dark outside. I had to make sure you two were safe." Judy sighs, sounding a little bit sad at the good memory. She runs her fingers through my hair and looks at the last page of the album with me. "You and your sister… you two were such good girls."

"Yeah…" I whisper and close the photo album. It's the last one we had to look through, and it's getting late. I'm not sure if Shelby is back and looking for Beth yet or what, but I think we should be heading back home anyway.

I never knew my mother had all those photo albums downstairs in the basement. I do remember back when we were happy — before my dad did all the cheating and before my memories were tainted with the child molesting — Judy always had a camera in her hand. She captured everything with me and Frannie. She was happy, just wanting to remember every single moment with both her girls. I always thought it was weird because I never once remembered ever seeing the pictures after she took them. It makes me wonder why she never hung any of them up around the house in place of the flowers and landscapes and fruit basket pictures.

We were happy then. We were a normal family. We went on vacations and played sports and had family reunions and ate dinner together. We went to baseball games with our dad and book club meetings with our mom. We played in the sprinklers and ate ice cream in the hammock. And every Sunday, we had a mom who made us lunch and sang songs when we got back from church. We had a mom who brushed our hair for school in the morning and packed our lunches with smiley faces drawn with jelly on our sandwiches. We had a dad who read us bedtime stories and taught us to shoot soccer balls in the backyard…

I had a good life; a happy life. Where did it all go wrong? When did vacations and sporting events turn into cheating and secret secretary abortions? When did baseball games with dad and book club meetings with mom turn into conditional love and hands that crept underneath a child's blanket at night? When did bedtime stories become dreaded for my sister because it meant our father would have his way with her, and when did my mom telling me she loved me turn into those same lips calling me a vile sinner for being gay?

I can't catch the tears before they roll down my cheeks and splash onto the red leather of the photo album. Beth uses her index finger to touch the droplet of water, then she looks up at me. But I'm not looking at her… I'm looking at Judy instead…

"I love you, Mom…" I say, tears still rolling down my cheeks. "I love you so much…"

"Oh, sweetie…" Judy uses her thumb to wipe my tears and shakes her head. "I love —"

"No," I shake my head at her and wipe my tears because even though I'm crying, it doesn't mean that I'm weak. It doesn't mean that I'm about to lie on her shoulder and melt into her arms and forgive her for everything she's ever done and tell her that I can't wait to come home next week. No. I'm crying, but I'm not weak. Beth is watching me. I'm strong for her.

"Quinnie, I'm just trying to tell you that —"

"I know, okay?" I sniff. "I know. I know you love me too. I know you do, even if you don't always know how to show me that you do, I know you do." I look at her, but our eyes don't meet. She can't make eye contact with me. Because she knows I'm right. "I have good memories of you."

"...What?" She asks, genuinely confused.

"My memories. The ones I have of you… they're mostly good. Not all of them, but most of them. They're all mostly good. Those are the ones I'll pass down to her," I motion to Beth with my head. "I'll tell her all the good things about you, I promise."

She looks like she might say something, but her mouth closes just as quickly as it opened. I don't think she knows what to say. But that's okay, because I'm not done…

"I forgive you." I didn't expect that to come out of my mouth… but it really feels like it's true. "I know that you love me in the best way you know how to love me, and that's okay. It's okay and I forgive you. I know you can't love me any better than you do… not whenever you're broken just like me. I know you try your best. I forgive you… and I know you love me… okay?"

"Quinn," she says my name and her voice cracks. Just like me, tears roll down her cheeks too, but she doesn't bother wiping them. "Honey, I love you so much. I love you more than you'll ever know…"

She reaches out and tries to touch my hair again, but I just gently dodge her. She can't touch me right now. Because if she touches me right now, I might go soft and forgive her so much that I'll feel bad for her and I can't feel bad for her. Not whenever I know what I'm about to do. Not whenever I know I'm about to do what needs to be done.

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry," she looks at me and I can tell that she's being genuine. And that means a lot to me, it really does. "I'm so sorry that I messed this life up. I did so many things wrong, so many things that I wish I could take back. But you and your sister… Lucy, you and your sister are the two things that I got absolutely right. You are the best things in the world. And I'm so sorry that I couldn't have been a better mom. You deserved a better mom."

"I have one," I say with the clearest voice I've spoken in since I've been here. "I have a better mom. I have the kind of mom that most people can only dream of having; the kind of mom people write books about. She makes dinner every night, she pays SO much attention to me, she listens to me, she catches me when I fall and holds me up when I make a mistake…" I can't help but smile when I think about her. "She dances in the kitchen with Beth…"

I look down at my baby and kiss her on the top of her head while she chews on the corner of one of the Polaroids we forgot to put back inside the photo album.

"I have a good mom," I continue. "And they're trying to take me away from her next week."

Here it goes… I thought handing Beth to the adoption counselor was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, then I thought signing over my rights was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, then I thought seeing Rachel kiss Finn was the hardest thing I've ever had to do… but this? This takes the cake. But here I go…

"Let me go," I close my eyes when I say it, take a deep breath, then open them. "Go to the courthouse tomorrow, tell them you want the papers to terminate your rights, and let. Me. Go. Please."

"Lucy, I'm not —"

"Please." I close my eyes as I beg, but the tears are still coming down. "Please, mom. Please. The social worker — her name is Courtney — she's coming here to see you and dad on Friday and when she does, please just tell her that you want your rights terminated. Please. If you love me…" I take another deep breath. "If you love me the way I know you love me, then please. Let me go. Let me be happy."

Judy looks up at the ceiling and exhales sharply. I don't think she knows what to say…

"I came here so she could meet you. I wanted you to see her for the first… and last time." I hold Beth a little closer to me. "I came here to tell you that I love you and I forgive you… but this is goodbye."

She won't look at me. She absolutely won't look at me, but that's okay. All she has to do is listen...

"I want this to be easy. I want to do the right thing and then tell you goodbye and have this be easy, but it could be hard. It can be easy and you can tell them that you don't want me anymore, or it can be hard and I can go and get myself emancipated and we can end this hating each other. I'm not coming back here, mom." I shake my head so she knows I mean business. "I'm not coming back. I can't live here. I cannot live here. Not with you and daddy. I can't live here. And if almost dying taught me anything, it taught me that I want to live. I really, really want to live." I wipe another stray tear. "So please let me go."

She doesn't look at me and doesn't say anything and I don't know if I'm even expecting her to say anything to be quite honest. I mean, what can you say to your child asking you to let them go? I wouldn't know what to say either. But I think she heard me. I think she heard me loud and clear…

But maybe I'm wrong and she didn't hear me, because all she does is turn away from me and stand up. And for a second I think that maybe me and Beth should leave. Because she just gets up from the spot we were sitting at on the floor and walks away. She usually does that when she wants to be alone so she can cry, but I'm not sure why she'd run away to cry when she already cried her eyes out in front of me.

I'm not sure if she's going to let this be easy or if this is going to be hard, but I don't care anymore. I know what needs to be done, I know where I need to stay, and getting emancipated probably isn't as hard as everyone says it is. Even if it is hard, I don't care. I'm doing what's best for me now.

Since me and Beth are alone now, I hold her tight and stand up too, so I can put my shoes back on and her hat back on. Everyone back at home is probably worried sick about us, so I think it's time to head out. Even though it didn't turn out the way I hoped it would turn out, I don't regret bringing her here. I don't regret letting her meet her grandmother.

I thought that by coming here, I would feel —

"Quinnie?" Judy's voice rips me from my thoughts. I turn around with Beth on my hip and see her walking slowly down the steps.

"...Yeah, mom?"

"I want her to have this," she stands right in front of me and Beth and hands me the pink and white crocheted blanket that my grandmother made a long time ago. "I um… I waited so long to give it to her, I hoped that someday I'd have the chance."

She holds Beth's hand for a really long, meaningful moment. Then, she looks at me.

"I want her to have it," she says.


When me and Beth finally walk up the front steps and I shove my key into the doorknob, my eyes are still puffy and itchy from crying, and I feel so relieved to be home.

Whitney and Bobby bark to alert everyone that we're back, and I know I should probably be walking through the door with nerves and dread all over my conscience, but I'm the complete opposite. I know I'm probably grounded, and I'll hand my phone and my car keys over willingly. I know I shouldn't have left the house without telling anyone where I was going, but I had to leave and do it while I still had my nerve.

I put my keys down on the mantle and take my shoes off, and I'm still not scared when Mom stands in the hallway and looks at me with her hands on her hips.

"Where the hell did you go?!" She yells and usually when she yells, I'm a little scared. Not tonight, though. After tonight, I don't think anything will ever scare me again.

"...I went to see my mom." I tell her the truth very matter of factly. But I look in her eyes when I say it, and I hope that she can understand what I mean when I say that I went to see my mom. I hope that she knows exactly what I mean…

We look at each other for several moments, trying to communicate without speaking the words. I went to see my mother for the last time ever, is what I'm saying. And when Mom's face softens and her shoulders release the tension, I know that she knows I went to see Judy for the last time ever.

"Come here, baby," she mumbles under her breath and walks to me with outstretched arms.

I stop her from hugging me, though. I stop her by handing her the red leather photo album.

"This is for you, mom," I smile at her softly and sadly. "So you have some baby pictures of me."

She smiles back at me and takes the photo album with tears in her eyes, then she finally does hug me like she intended to before I stopped her.

"I love you, kid," she mumbles into my neck while we hug.

"Love you too."

"We uh," she blinks back the tears she didn't let fall. "We waited for you before we ate dinner, so come on. We hungry."


A/N: I meant to say at the end of last chapter;;

I didn't actually write Rachel's song, "Never Give Up On Us." It's an actual song called Never Give Up On Us by Connie Talbot.