"Where did you find that space anyway?" Santana asked Rachel and Kurt when they were visiting the loft.
"I was walking around the neighborhood when I saw the rental sign. Then I called the real stated agency." Kurt said proud of himself. "The price is very low and we can shape the space the way we want."
"We can set up a mansion in here!" Rachel was delighted with the place. "We can ride a bike here if we want to. Kurt, we're going to sign the contract today."
"Wait, dazzled diva and lady lips." Santana spoke loudly to draw attention to herself. "The rent is cheap, but it can also be very expensive. Have you ever thought about what we will have to spend to make this place livable? This place even looks like an old amphetamine laboratory, and dealers accounting point. At best, it was a property that was legally recovered after being invaded by homeless people."
"Actually ... the real estate agency didn't explain what this place was used for. But the past of this place doesn't matter, Santana."
"Tell that to the unsuspecting homeless person who knocks on the door complaining that they took his house. I prefer that three-bedroom apartment."
It was mid-August, and the trio had been in New York for five days, staying in a hostel. The idea was to go to New York to choose a property to rent from the pre-selected list that they researched in Lima. They went to town with a minimum of luggage, as the idea was to rent and then brought the rest of the clothes and some personal belongings from Lima. Santana swore that it was agreed to sign a three-bedroom rental in the Bronx, after they visited six places. That apartment had the best cost-benefit: it was a place with easy access to public transportation, in addition to being a newly renovated. The three rooms were very small, but that's okay, there was only one bathroom, and the kitchen and living room were separated by a balcony. Santana and Rachel were getting on with the relationship. They were dating, despite already being married, and the option of having three rooms was precisely to maintain a progression in the relationship. Since Kurt was also living with them, everyone would have some privacy. But Santana should already know that living with two divas could be somewhat unpredictable.
"Look at this dirty!" Santana tried to argue.
"Is that what you're worry about? To do some cleaning and paint the walls?" Rachel crossed her arms. "We can do it."
"No, Rachel. I'm thinking about what we're going to need to spend to lock that door." Santana moved the door to show the other two that there wasn't even a lock and the place was sealed with a chain and padlock. "We will have to buy all the furniture. We will have to buy partitions to have the minimum privacy, maybe install some drywalls. What if Blaine visits Kurt? What if you and I want to have sex?"
"Oh my eyes!" Kurt complained.
"Oh your ears!" Santana corrected. "Rachel moans loudly."
"Santana!" Rachel was mortified.
"I'm just keeping it real. Imagine the hell it will be? We will have to create a very good system for those hours." Santana went to the bathroom and tested the flush. Then she went to the place that had the kitchen sink. "We are going to have to buy a refrigerator, a stove, a microwave, a table. Have you taken a look at the bathroom? It has a leak and we need to fix it. We need to check if there's a laundry nearby. Okay, the subway is close, but that is not all that matters. This neighborhood is dangerous, and it's far from both Nyada and CCNY campus. Nyada is practically next door to NYU, but I need to take a subway to go to Harlem four times a week! We will end up spending around 20 thousand to make this place habitable. With that money, we can rent something much better already furnished in Astoria, Willamburg, Greenpoint or, I don't know, even Clinton Hill. We can rent the Bronx apartment and to furnish it with less money, since the place already have a complete kitchen set!"
"Why do you have to be a killjoy, Santana?" Rachel complained about stamping her foot. Deep down she knew that the wife was right. Neither she nor Santana would have that money to spend.
"Killjoy? I am the only person here with my feet on the ground who needs to give a reality check to you divas." Santana ran her hands through her hair.
"But the Bronx's apartment is smaller than this place, and the rental price is more expensive." Kurt argued. "We can negotiate some rent discounts with the owner to make some benefits and repairs. I know a little bit of plumbing and electrical installation. Maybe I can do this repair myself. No problem. We really are going to have to buy beds anyway. We will have to design the rooms, buy the kitchen set... but we can do it little by little. We can also think of cheaper solutions, like having curtains instead of drywalls. Just have a little imagination, Santana."
"Still, Porcelain, Rachel and I have a little budget to spend on our installation. Depending on how we manage this money, we may need to get a part-time job to pay our bills."
"I have my savings, and I will get a job until the mid-terms in Nyada. I can afford a larger share of these expenses. You two pay half and I pay the other half."
"Let's vote. Who wants the Bronx apartment raise your hand." Rachel said and only Santana raised her hand. "Who wants this loft raise your hand." She and Kurt raised their hands. "See, it's a democratic decision. We will stay here. You aren't required to live here with us, Santana. You can even try to get a dorm for you."
"I hate you."
"I'm starting to think that hate is the new love." Rachel kissed Santana.
…
"Santana!" Rachel snapped. "What did I tell you about the drawers?"
"That the top two are yours and the bottom two are mine."
"Exactly! And what is your boxer doing here?" Rachel showed the underwear hanging from the tip of a pen, as if she were disgusted by touching the fabric.
"Oh, so that's where my favorite boxer was? I was looking for it. Thank you, Rachel!"
Rachel took the underwear and threw it at Santana. Then, claiming she needed to cool her head, she left. The loft was still in formation. Kurt hired a carpenter to install two curtain holders that would delimit Santana and Rachel's and Kurt's rooms. They had to put a drywall to separate Rachel and Santana's room and the kitchen. The professional also created a bookcase that also had the role of a partition between Kurt's bedroom and what would be the living room. There was still a need to equip the kitchen and make some installations. The ex-cheerio was the only one there who was training to deal with funding and laws. Perhaps she was the only one in the trio who knew what it meant to spend $ 7,000 improving a rental property in New York. It was unreal and stupid, even with the rent discount that the owner agreed to grant. Since hearing the reason didn't seem to affect Rachel and Kurt, and the fact that she was a losing vote, she had to find ways to make small protests. Put her male underwear in the Rachel's drawers just to annoy the diva was one of them.
"So… do you like wearing boxers?" Kurt asked almost innocently.
"It's better to sleep, because it's usually up in the morning. But I wear boxer briefs during the day."
"Well, that's normal and involuntary. Most of times you just need to pee to get down."
"I know that. But it's incredibly annoying. Thank god it's just four days a month."
It was the first time that Kurt heard Santana talk about the effect of the morph. He had no idea how much Santana was annoyed by this. As a man, Kurt was very proud of his genitals. As a gay man, he had an extra motivation in favor of the penis. He had already seen such rejection in transgender women, but it was the first time he had heard a complaint from a legitimate transmorph. On second thought, Kurt could understand Santana: being a lesbian doesn't necessarily mean being male. As much as Kurt was effeminate and a fashionista, he never saw himself as a woman and never wanted to be one, or dress like one. Kurt continued to tidy up his room, while Santana threw herself on the bed on the opposite side. She was tired after working all day to tidy and clean the loft with Kurt and Rachel.
"You know? There is still time to make a third bedroom. We can make some adjustments." Kurt suggested.
"It won't be necessary. We just need to buy a folding bed and a very comfortable sofa."
"Are you already predicting the nights she'll kick you out?" Kurt smiled.
"Knowing Rachel, there will be many. And knowing myself, I won't let her win every time. There will be resistance and fight."
"But at least you're getting along. Between four walls at least."
"Between four walls is the easiest part, kinda."
"Kinda?"
"Rachel is straight, Kurt. With a lot of effort, she can fit on the bi label."
"I know that, and I'm sorry, Satan."
"People are what they are. I accept that."
"I know it would be easier for you if Rachel were on the rainbow side of the force."
"It's fine. She's not an enthusiast for lesbian love, but she likes orgasms and that's something I can do with and without mini-Lopez. About the other things... I don't know. Rachel and I have very different life goals. If she fails to reach Broadway, I fear for her mental health, honestly. I want to be at a stage, I want to sing, but I have a plan B and a plan C. Every time I bring up the subject, she thinks I'm rooting for her failure."
"She has already complained about this to me a few times. If you want to know: I agree with you. I regret bitterly for not applying at NYU and other drama schools here in New York. I could try fashion school as plan B. But here I am still looking for a job."
"I'm not sure that we'll have a future together after the contract expires. But I swear to god in heaven that I want to have a good relationship with her. For the sake of our future kid, we need to tolerate ourselves, at least."
"Don't you think at all about making your marriage work?"
"Of course, I do. But Kurt, let's be honest here: at this very moment, Rachel and I are more like roommates with benefits than girlfriends, and this is a big step forward compared to what we already were. I really want us to become a family: she and I... and you... but there is a long way to go."
"But aren't you in sync with her?"
"I think I'm getting there."
"Doesn't that mean that an emotional bond with her has already been established?"
"Yes, but…"
"You may not feel married yet, Satan, but Rachel is definitely your girlfriend. You act like an old married couple. There is no use denying it." Kurt smiled. "By the way, thank you for considering me as part of your family. Know that the feeling is reciprocal."
The conversation was interrupted with Rachel's return. She didn't, in fact, go for a walk. She just needed to make a dramatic diva exit, which made her listen to the dialogue. Without saying anything, she went back to organize her things, taking the clothes to hang in her coat rack (Santana had another one outside her "bedroom"). When Rachel finished, she turned to the other two and proposed them going out to dinner. Kurt agreed. He was the first to take his coat and leave. Rachel was next and Santana locked the door. On the way to the restaurant, Rachel held Santana's hand, interlacing their fingers. Santana was right, maybe Rachel was straight, but that didn't mean she hadn't learned to like her wife. She wasn't even closed to the possibility of loving Santana. It's very likely that the freshman CCNY student would be Rachel's only exception.
…
It wasn't Rachel's choice. The fall term didn't have a much flexible timetable between mandatory and optional subjects. The drama arts school in Nyada took four years, being that the latter was the specialization and an internship in the theater company maintained by the university, which usually did off-off Broadway productions. The first year was for mandatory subjects, and there wasn't much space in the timetable for optional ones.
On the first day of school, she attended the lecture to welcome students of drama arts, and got to know the university's facilities. Nyada occupied a wide, eight-story building at 7th Avenue near Madison Square, which was relatively close to the NYU campus. If anyone asked, Rachel would deny it to death, but she was frightened by the level of demand. The first year was fundamental not only for the basic training, but because at the end of it, the students would go through an evaluation process. Those who didn't reach the targets would be asked to leave Nyada. The failure rate reached 20%, apart from those who dropped out the school in the first year or for not being able to pay the monthly fee, or for not being able to stand the pressure. But judging by the list of notables the school formed, the sacrifice was worth it.
Rachel rented a locker for the entire semester. As soon as she took possession of it, Rachel put on the small gym bag and ordered the clothes she would need to wear, more precisely the costumes for the dance class. Rachel asked a fellow freshman if he knew the professor.
"Have you never heard of Cassandra July?" The colleague was indignant, as he stretched.
"Should I?"
"What planet did you come from?"
The colleague turned away and Rachel was left without an answer. Cassandra July? Nyada's professors were highly qualified, and if Cassandra July was there, it was because her talent justified the post. That was enough. Then Cassandra herself enters the room. She quickly orders the students to do basic ballet movements and to repeat them with more and more intensity. Rachel was doing her best, but she was scared. The diva quickly learned why all her colleagues were so eager to warm up before the professor arrived. This was an introductory class, very heterogeneous, for students of theater and other courses. There were no students in the dance course. But Cassandra July didn't seem to care. She took a student and criticized her, including putting nicknames. Rachel rolled her eyes at the attitude of the professor who practiced bullying in a naturalized way. She spent almost all her school life being the favorite target of bullying practiced by the most popular students, including her dignified wife Santana Lopez. Watching this happen at the university was simply disheartening.
That's when Cassandra caught Rachel's eye roll. David Schwimmer? Was that the nickname the professor would give her? For those who were called Ru Paul, manhands and other homophobic and transphobic nicknames (ironically given to a straight girl), being called David Schwimmer was as easy as pie. She was named Rachel because of the tv show Friends, and calling her by the name of an actor in the series didn't sound pejorative at all. Maybe Cassandra could take some tips with Santana on how to call someone names to really hurt: dwarf, willow, hobbit, gremlin, yentl, nose, and any names that can attack Rachel's physical and ethnic characteristics. Cassandra called out Rachel's attitude, Rachel's birth place, then rested her eyes on the golden ring.
"Oh, and are you married?" Cassandra sneered. "What happened, Schwimmer? Did you get pregnant?"
"No, ma'am." Rachel wanted to roll her eyes again.
"Oh, maybe you're married to the silly jock. I bet he wasn't even smart enough to go beyond high school. Let me guess? Did he enlisted in the army while you wait for him?"
Rachel needed to give the professor some credit. That would be an exact scenario if she had stayed with Finn Hudson.
"Yeah... it's just that." Rachel remained indifferent, which made Cassandra even more willing to make her life hell.
"Show what you know, Schwimmer. If you have any skills, I may make your life less hellish. Otherwise, I'm just going to thank you for paying my rent."
Rachel knew exactly that her dancing skills were mediocre at best, so she started to prepare herself psychologically to go to hell.
…
Rachel was crying with rage, and the reason wasn't Santana. Santana was angry, and the reason wasn't the forced coexistence with two drama divas. Kurt had an injured ego, and the reason wasn't an argument with his roommates.
Rachel was frustrated because Nyada is harder than she ever thought. In her dreams, the Lima's diva imagined that her allegedly huge talent would dazzle all of the academy's professors on the first high note. Obviously, Rachel had talent, or she wouldn't have being accepted on such a strong art school. But she never imagined how much she would have to work to improve herself, and how much she would have to study. Rachel needed to take theorical classes of general art history, introduction and theory of the performing arts, and an elective subject: Rachel applied for gender performance. She also had to take practical classes of vocal performance, dance, and acting. All of these classes were 101's level, and some of the advanced classes could only be attended by invitations by the professors themselves. Rachel had an ambition to attend the advanced vocal performance class of professor Carmen Tibideaux, but the invitation didn't come. Nyada showed that Rachel was a very good singer, a passable actress and a shitty dancer. She realized that she was just another student among a lot of talented people, and that would be a problem. Besides, the dance's professor really hated her.
Santana was upset that she was studying hard but she still didn't have a direction for what she really wanted to do. For the fall term, she has enrolled in a creative writing workshop, introduction of cinema and media studies, introduction to economics, introduction to management, and an acting class which was open to all students. Those classes were that part of the script for students who were still lost about their majors. Santana even came to check out the dance department, but that wasn't a career for her. There were so many different things, and so much to study, that Santana soon realized that she wouldn't have much time to do other things. She wanted to start a pop band, get a part-time job, get some gigs. But she couldn't do all that, leaving only extra activities to choose very carefully. Who knows, maybe she could get some gigs and temporary jobs to increase her income? She even picked up a pamphlet offering go go girl job, but Rachel wasn't going to like it at all. Working in the university cafeteria was another valid option. Santana observed Rachel with an open path to an artistic career, but everything indicated that singing and dancing, in her case, would be a hobby or a side career. Santana had to think about the future. With a kid who would arrive in less than five years, the fortune it would inherit and with the assets that she herself could acquire free from such an imbroglio, Santana had to train herself to handle the administration of everything. Someone would have to do this in the family, since she was pretty sure she could never count on Rachel about it.
Kurt was down because, contrary to what he imagined, he didn't get the internship job at Vogue or any other fashion magazine. There are many other persons, gay and straight, with much better contacts than him, and with much sharper industry knowledge. The fact that he didn't even pass the curriculum analysis phase for the interns selection was a reality slap in his face. Kurt ended up making money by serving tables in a restaurant with performance waiters. Every morning, he went out to exercise, then went to work in the restaurant until four in the afternoon. He came home at about the same time as Rachel and Santana, and had to witness her friends tell stories about college, about subjects, about professors and colleagues. It was in those moments that Kurt felt a lump in his throat, that he was falling behind.
Everyone was upset because the money was tight. Santana warned that investing in the renovation of a rented apartment was stupid. And she was right. They got a nice house, but they ran out of money to buy basic things, like food. The little money made them invest more in cheap products. They could buy few vegetables, almost no fruit. Meat? Zero! Santana just didn't become a vegetarian due to lack of money, because she had a meal at college. Sophisticated food, only if someone pays. On this specific subject, neither Kurt nor Rachel could face Santana. They also were ashamed to call their parents and ask for help. New York wasn't easy. Adult life was complex and more complicated than they could have imagined. The trio realized that a dream was a dream, and that reality required blood, sweat and tears.