Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and all of the typos/grammatical errors. The views and opinions expressed in this story are not personal.

Chapter 14: Emotional Labor Isn't Cheap

It had been a strange few months. In between the usual cyclic waxing and waning of her weeks—between the mundanity of her daily habits—something new was trying to establish itself. Something new and strange.

Back to that word: strange.

It was all she could think at first. How strange it all was.

Rachel had never had an issue to adjusting her life to include someone new. Usually she didn't have to make a lot of adjustment. She'd merely outline how she expected her day to go, how her life should look, and would simply insist that the other person conform.

The very first person to challenge her way of life was Santana. College roommates tended to take what you expected and turn it onto its head. Santana was brash; bold and opinionated. And she was witty. Quick enough to stun Rachel and leave her head spinning just enough for her to realize, far too late, that her best laid plans had been laid to waste.

Her friendship with Santana was the first time she'd had to pause and take a moment to just observe someone else quietly. Because Santana, who insisted Rachel was always "too damn loud" in the mornings and "never fucking shut up" when she was trying to sleep and really just never hesitated to tell her how she felt; well, Santana was definitely hiding something at first.

And Rachel wanted to know what it was, so she searched.

She quietly observed, looking hard at Santana's behavior. Reading between the lines. Finally seeing that something that didn't want to be seen.

They say when you try to hide yourself from others, you expose parts of you that you didn't think mattered.

Rachel thought that was exactly what she'd been seeing with Quinn over the past couple of months. Quinn, who was sprawled out on her couch, staring wistfully at the ceiling.

She'd stopped asking "why are you here?" around the 4th or 5th time Quinn had shown up unannounced.

"Did you want to watch the movie, or did you want to watch the ceiling?" Rachel finally groaned after hearing the blonde release yet another wistful sigh.

When the blonde didn't respond, she merely reached for the control and hit pause.

The silence must've ached in her ears, because Quinn sat up with a slight grimace on her face. She stared heavily at Rachel, hazel eyes thoughtful but hesitant.

"So, I don't want to watch a movie," Quinn finally admitted, reaching for the glass of wine that had sat untouched on the side table for the 30 elapsed minutes of the movie.

"Ok, progress," Rachel grumbled, a bit miffed, but generally pleased with the progress.

Quinn sipped her wine for a moment before pulling her left hand away from the couch to cradle the curve of the wine glass.

"What's with you and that art school guy?"

"He's a friend," Rachel hissed, already annoyed because there was no way Santana hadn't influenced this line of questioning. "Can you and Santana just stay out of it?"

"She's just really invested. And she maybe wants me to scope him out before it gets too serious."

"I'm pretty sure it wouldn't get serious at all if I start introducing potential suitors to a Fox News commentator."

"Ouch," Quinn feigned injury. "Why do you wound me so?"

Rachel could barely keep a straight face as the blonde grinned and dramatically draped the back of her hand across her forehead. She didn't worry much at all at the wine sloshing around in the glass held in Quinn's other hand. Her new friend was incredibly tidy; never dropped crumbs or spilled drinks. There was a level of perfection in her intent to move that had Rachel both enthralled and irritated.

Quinn Fabray was the kind of girl whose mere existence would've tormented Rachel in high school. She would've craved her attention. Any kind of acknowledgement would do, even teasing.

"Is that really a problem, though?" Quinn asked, drawing Rachel's attention back to her.

"Is what a problem?"

"Me, working at Fox News. Is that why you don't want me to meet your boyfriend?"

"Friend," Rachel corrected. "And no. I can't admit to being too invested in any man at this current time—not as much to be concerned about his opinion of the company I keep."

Quinn squinted her eyes at her. A routine occurrence during their conversations, Rachel had quickly realized. She also often told her to "stop talking like a Victorian woman from a Jane Austen novel" following that scrutinizing look.

"God, honestly, why do you talk like that?" she grumbled in response, setting her wine glass down.

"Quinn, if you must know—"

"It was a rhetorical question," she interrupted with a groan, flopping back down onto the couch.

Rachel merely stared, silenced.

"I'm sorry," Quinn muttered.

"Well, you may be as rude as Santana but at least you offer up apologies without growing increasingly combative."

Silence settled between them and Rachel wondered, briefly, if she should turn the television back on. A quick glance at Quinn made her decide against that course of action, instead standing from the recliner she'd been seated in and approaching her guest.

Quinn wasn't hiding her discomfort, which made it all the more obvious that she wanted to tactfully ask Rachel a question and didn't know how to do so.

"Ok, let's talk so you can stop melting on my couch."

Quinn didn't flinch as Rachel sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Did you sit on my feet on purpose, or…?"

"Quinn."

"Fine," she huffed, pulling her feet out from under Rachel's body. "I think Santana's more ashamed of me than she's letting on."

Rachel couldn't help but find herself a little bit uncomfortable with talking about her best friend with her best friend's girlfriend. While she'd had several encounters with Quinn over the past few months that would easily solidify the status of their friendship, it was still… strange. Strange because Quinn seemed to live in the duality of being very sure of Santana and also not seeming sure at all of Santana.

She'd say things to Rachel that made it seem like Quinn had never known love until she met Santana. Yet at the same time, she scrutinized Santana's every move and second guessed the things she said and did. Was trust just something she didn't know? All the same, Santana could be a very guarded person, so it was quite possible she'd been her usual aloof self during conversation, rousing Quinn's distrustful nature.

"What makes you say that?"

"My new publicist wants me to do an interview with a magazine, to help with coming out, and thinks it's a good idea to name who it is I'm dating, assuming she's high profile enough to be known. And Santana is well known enough, so I said I'd ask her."

Rachel nodded, quietly urging Quinn to continue.

"I told her that I'd like to announce that we were dating and she told me no. Just, "No," without any hesitation."

Rachel nodded again.

"Well?"

"Oh," the brunette was surprised, expecting more. "Well, I know you didn't leave it at that. What did she say when you asked her why not?"

The blonde ran a hand through her hair, clearly agitated.

"She said it wasn't a good idea to anchor my sexuality to a person. She said it would distract from the story, shifting the focus from me telling my truth to who I'm sleeping with."

"Ok. You don't find merit to her statement?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"Because I wouldn't be doing this if not for her," Quinn sat up, hair still mussed from lying down.

"Are you coming out for Santana?"

"No."

"I'm confused."

"I'm coming out because I want to. But Santana is also somewhat of an end goal here. If I come out, then she and I can move forward with our relationship."

At this, Rachel couldn't help the frown she let slip onto her face.

"Quinn, Santana's concerned that you're not really considering the reality of a relationship announcement overshadowing the fact that you're coming out. She thinks that a moment that should be yours, should be about you and shouldn't be about who you're dating. She doesn't want you to look back on the moment with disdain if things were to fall apart between the two of you."

"How could I look back on anything related to my relationship with Santana with disdain?"

Whenever Quinn said things like that, Rachel felt at ease. Ironic, seeing that Santana's response to Quinn saying things like that would be to make a panicked phone call to Rachel.

It was truly odd to see.

Santana seemed to have more hesitation about their relationship than Quinn did. Quinn, who'd never dated a woman before Santana; who didn't even know she was attracted to women until she met Santana. Quinn was so sure about Santana—about what they could be. And Santana, the boldest woman Rachel had ever known, was hesitant. Santana was playing it safe.

"Quinn's going to regret tying her announcement to me. Ten years from now, she'll see that magazine and scoff. She'll have to read my name, see it next to hers, and feel…" and then she wouldn't finish that statement. Of course Rachel couldn't leave it at that and, when she asked, Santana produced a sorrowful sigh and promised she'd explain more when they saw each other next.

"She's just trying to account for the worst case scenario, that's just what she does," Rachel tried to explain. She didn't know why Santana was so dead-set on being pessimistic with Quinn. Part of her wondered if this had something to do with Brittany. She knew that Brittany leaving her had wounded her ego and planted a seed of doubt in regard to romance. Perhaps she was struggling to really let herself believe in someone else's love.

Of course, Rachel knew better than to offer this speculation to Quinn.

"Or maybe she just doesn't want her friends and family to know that we're together."

"Quinn… don't you have someone else to talk to about this? I thought you'd told Mercedes for this exact reason. Don't you think it's a bit unorthodox to discuss your girlfriend with her best friend?"

"You're joking, right? Mercedes is an international popstar. She's busy," Quinn deadpanned.

"Ah, I understand. And my time is infinite."

Rachel was irritated by this all. She should've been relaxing and instead she found herself entertaining Quinn Fabray.

"No, your time isn't infinite, but you know more about the situation. And you know Santana."

"That's exactly why I shouldn't be talking to you about her," Rachel groaned. "Santana would be upset with me if I shared much of anything with you. And it's not that she doesn't want you to know, it's that she wants you to go to her as a primary source of information regarding her. She desires a level of control that cannot be had if I'm constantly divulging information to you."

"A level of control? What is she hiding?" Quinn asked, her eyes narrowing again with scrutiny.

"Nothing, that I'm aware of," was Rachel's quick response; her speed a result of her desperation to move on from the topic of discussion.

"Why won't she take me as a plus-one to Brittany's wedding?"

"I thought you two weren't doing any public appearances until after you come out."

"How is Brittany's wedding a public appearance?"

"People there will recognize you."

"I've met Brittany before—she definitely did not recognize me."

Rachel paused, surprised by this information.

"You've met Brittany?"

"Yes."

"What? Was Santana around?"

"Yes."

Stranger still, was hearing about this from Quinn.

When Rachel didn't continue with her line of questioning, Quinn decided to share more.

"I was thinking of crashing the wedding, you know. Make up some story about going to see Mercedes in LA, and find out where the wedding venue was. Just show up."

"How would you find out where the venue was?"

"Well, you're going, aren't you?"

"Why the hell would I go to Brittany's wedding?" Rachel snapped, annoyed.

It was the same annoyance she'd felt when she'd received the invite in the mail. She'd wanted to throw it out, but then Santana called the next day asking if she'd been invited. Santana seemed surprised by Rachel's insistence on not going.

It had always bothered Rachel how quickly Santana could forgive Brittany for just about anything—even breaking her heart and leaving her in shambles.

"Not a fan?" Quinn asked, startling Rachel back to attention. The brunette held Quinn's gaze for a moment, considering just how much of her disdain she should reveal.

"She broke my best friend's heart. Left her when she needed her the most. So, no, I'm not a fan," Rachel shared, leaning back heavily against the couch. "It was really insensitive of her to invite us to her wedding. And I'm sure someone will come bounding to her defense, but she knows what she's doing and what effect it will have on Santana."

"God, thank you!" Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought it was just me, but that woman is… She was trying to get into Santana's pants when I met her. Just showed up at her house one day, last summer. And the way she was looking at her…"

Rachel held her tongue. The powerful attraction between Santana and Brittany was something she'd never witnessed between anyone else before seeing the two together—still she'd yet to encounter anything like it after they'd broken up. Santana had loved Brittany so freely; boldly and without hesitation. It was really hard to remember that, but also see Santana with Quinn. Santana was scared, and Rachel could only hope that Santana's fear didn't prevent her from seeing things through with a woman who was putting in so much effort into be who she needed her to be.

"Part of me wonders if Santana would've taken her to bed if I wasn't there."

Rachel looked up, shock and disappointment evident on her face. Quinn gave a barely imperceptible smile.

"So will you help me? Change your RSVP and bring me as your plus-one?" she asked softly. "Plus Mercedes seems to have taken to you after you two met that one time. I'm sure she'd love to see you."

At this, Rachel hesitated. Quinn was slick, finding a common enemy to align against all while throwing in that comment about Mercedes.

Mercedes was her soft spot when it came to Quinn, given the events of the night they'd met.

Something about the whole evening had made Rachel reconsider Quinn's intentions. It was the night something in the way Rachel viewed Quinn shifted.

"…Santana is going to kill me," Rachel finally sighed as Quinn merely grinned at her.

"It's going to be fun," Quinn reassured, finally relaxing on the couch.

"If I'm being completely honest, I won't be able to bring you with me to the wedding. I can't see that going any way but badly. But I don't see a problem with you attending the wedding reception. Being close by in case Brittany tries to get Santana alone."

"You think she would? The night of her own wedding?"

"I think Brittany has a one-track mind when it comes to Santana and she wouldn't think twice if she had the opportunity to get her alone."

Quinn merely hummed her acknowledgement of what Rachel said. The brunette watched as Quinn's pink lips thinned into a subtle frown.

After several minutes of silence, Quinn sat up a little straighter.

"Do you think Santana will be alright? She doesn't talk about Brittany much, but I know she loved her."

"Honestly? I'm not sure. And I hate that I can't give you a better answer than that."

The blonde looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she sighed.

"It's ok, Rachel. I should get going," she said, standing and very blatantly ignoring the look of pity on Rachel's face. "I'm going to head to the studio to get the ball rolling on pre-recorded shows for the weekend of the wedding."

"Alright. Well, I'll see you later then."

Quinn laughed as she missed a few steps, the music continuing onward. She watched her dance partner finish the routine with a grin, completely impressed. The routine wasn't too complicated, but it was non-stop and definitely exhausting.

"You killed that, 'Cedes!" Quinn complimented as the pop star walked over to the stereo console to turn down the music as the track started to loop. She was breathing just as hard as Quinn was, but didn't look as winded, somehow.

"Thanks! Took me a few days to really get the hang of some of the more technical parts of the routine but my choreographer is excellent."

"You are excellent. This music video is going to be so cool," Quinn gushed, walking toward the back where the bottle of water Mercedes had given her was waiting. She uncapped it and drank deeply, relieved to be offsetting some of the dehydration she clearly had going. She hadn't sweat so much in quite a while.

"So, how are things going with Project 'Denounce racism, repent for your sins, and come out as bi'?" Mercedes asked as she approached to get her own water bottle.

"Everything is set for coming out… Except Santana's support. And denouncing racism is going to take a lot more effort than I thought. Sam's been helping me comb through my social media accounts to find every instance I've said something incorrect and inflammatory and, if you could hazard a guess, there is an overwhelming amount of bullshit there. I'm going to apologizing for all of this for the rest of my life," Quinn lamented.

Addressing it all was going to be a monumental task, but when compared to the monumental harm she'd caused to so many people, it seemed like it wasn't enough.

Mercedes didn't respond, but merely nodded.

"Honestly, there's nothing I can do to really take all of it back. But I'm not sure killing myself with the guilt is especially productive. So I'm going to just keep plugging along, doing what I can, taking it all in stride once the shit hits the fan."

Mercedes nodded again and Quinn grew a tiny bit irate with her lack of response.

"You have nothing to say?" the blonde asked, her brows furrowing as Mercedes quirked an eyebrow at her.

"How should I respond? Should I give you a pat on the back for finally trying to be a decent person—something people strive to be without having a romantic relationship on the line, might I add," Mercedes shrugged, taking a quick drink of her water. "I really had to pray about the anger I had in regard to you and our friendship. And while I think God did most of the work in mending our relationship, I can't expect other people to forgive you as easily… especially when there isn't a personal history there to fall back on."

Quinn sighed, looking forlorn.

"You're right," she mumbled. "And I'm not looking for a pat on the back. I guess I'm just looking for some validation that I'm going about this the right way."

"Don't you have people you're paying for that? I can guarantee my rates are higher. My emotional labor isn't cheap," Mercedes smiled and Quinn laughed.

"You're right, again. I guess… I don't know. I was expecting more input from the people in my life, I suppose. But this isn't your burden to bear."

"The same way your coming out isn't Santana's burden to bear?" Mercedes asked, holding Quinn's gaze.

Quinn frowned, tearing her eyes away from the knowing look her friend was giving her. Santana had never said it outright, often framing the whole situation in respect to the impact it would have on Quinn's life but… the blonde had a sneaking suspicion that Santana's hesitancy in regard to being with her publically was in relation to the burden of being linked to Quinn (and all of her horrid, bigoted baggage) in a way that others could scrutinize.

"Sometimes I just want to let her go," Quinn admitted quietly. "I can't imagine how difficult all of this is for her. She's dedicated her life to justice and… dating me is going to make all of that seem so completely insincere to the people who trust her and look up to her. But I'm also so incredibly selfish. I want her in my life. I want her to be mine so… I can't. And it's hurting her."

"Did she say that?"

"She has in the past, before we were officially dating. She was very vocal about how she felt about her attraction to me."

"And since you've started officially dating…?"

"Sometimes it comes up when she's joking around. I'm not quite sure it's a joke, though. Not completely, at least."

"You know what I say," Mercedes started with a soft, apologetic look in her eyes. "It's best to be direct."

"I'll ask her, but I don't expect a response," Quinn explained. "She's definitely the type to just avoid answering."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to try."

"You're right," Quinn responded just as the door to the dance studio opened up. "Thanks for the advice. And the support."

Mercedes didn't respond, but merely gave a wink and a smile before turning to greet the person who'd just entered.

"Well, if it isn't Rachel Berry," Mercedes said with a smile and Rachel responded with a smile that was just as wide pulling a massive rolling suitcase, which had a garment bag attached to the extended handle, behind her.

"Rachel… what's with the luggage?" Quinn asked, foregoing a greeting.

"I had to pack all of my things to transfer to my new accommodations," Rachel huffed, struggling to get the bag to stand upright on its own, the garment bag throwing off its equilibrium.

"No, I mean, why do you have such a massive suitcase for a two-day trip?" Quinn's brows furrowed.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Rachel grumbled, digging into her purse. "I don't understand why you and Santana must voice every little criticism you have of me."

Mercedes just laughed and Quinn grinned knowing that Santana must've absolutely roasted Rachel in regard to the completely unnecessary amount of clothing and other items she'd packed.

Before Quinn could respond, Rachel was pressing a hotel keycard into her hand.

"Here, no time to waste. Santana made mention of handling something for work before she left the room, and she took her laptop and some folders with her. I think it would be a nice surprise if you were there when she returns."

Quinn couldn't hold back her excited grin and Mercedes made a cooing noise in response. With a very appropriate blush on her face, the blonde bid farewell to her best friend and Rachel, promising to hang out with them again sometime soon.

Once she arrived at the hotel room she flipped open her suitcase—which was appropriately sized for a weekend trip—and removed her toiletries. She planned on taking a relaxing shower and thoroughly moisturizing so that she could be prepared for her girlfriend's arrival.

Santana's knocks on the hotel room door were firm and deliberate. She had her laptop bag slung over her right shoulder, MacBook and documents tucked away safely inside. She was hoping, once this weekend was over, that she could finally let go of the anxiety that had been growing in her.

She heard the lock turning and was unsurprised to feel the lack of relief at the sound. The door was pulled open quickly and a hopeful blonde smiled at her, stepping aside and letting her in. Santana entered, standing awkwardly near the door of the suite.

"I'm glad you're here," Brittany said, shutting the door and wandering further into the suite. Santana hesitated for a moment by the door before releasing a heavy breath and kicking her heels off, instantly aware of her sudden drop in height.

Brittany had already gone to take a seat on the couch and Santana was contemplating asking if it were ok that they sat at the table, but then Brittany jumped up suddenly. Santana started at the sudden movement and she received a sheepish smile in response.

"Did you want something to drink? We've got a full minibar," she said, heading over to pull the door to the fridge open.

"I'm not sure alcohol is the best idea right now," Santana declined as Brittany removed a chilled bottle of white wine and set it on the adjacent counter.

"Well, sure, but you're doing that thing you do with your feet when you're nervous and I just want you to relax," Brittany said, pausing as she reached for the wine glasses arranged on the rack atop the counter.

Santana stilled, caught in the act. She was a nervous shifter—shifting her weight from one foot to the other in hopes of keeping her anxiety down. She often hid this by sitting or pacing, but she'd been glued to the spot near the door since entering this room as if she were going to change her mind and bolt through it at a moment's notice.

"I'll pour you a glass, and if you don't want it, then I'll drink it," Brittany decided quickly at Santana's response of silence. "Why don't you sit down while I pour?"

Santana sighed in response, walking over to where Brittany had been seated, hesitating once again to consider asking Brittany if they could sit at the table. She changed her mind, sitting on the far end of the couch and placing her laptop bag beside her on the cushion. Brittany swept over quickly, setting the glasses down and sitting on the couch as well. She gave a thoughtful look at the laptop bag between her and Santana and frowned before shaking away the look and offering a shy smile at her ex.

"Thank you for coming to see me," Brittany started with a gentle smile. "Honestly, when I asked to see you before the wedding I didn't think you'd agree. But I made sure I'd have the whole day to myself, just in case."

"Well, I needed to talk to you about something as well," Santana explained, allowing herself to fully take in Brittany as she sat just a short distance away. Her blonde hair was down, long locks loose and swept over one shoulder. She had an open and earnest expression on her face. She was completely and utterly disarming, as always.

"Oh, really?" Brittany asked, surprised. Her blue eyes brightened and Santana felt heat creeping into her cheeks at the sight.

"Yeah, Britt. We should've had this conversation a long time ago and you've been… I've…" Santana sighed, squeezing her eyes shut as they began to burn with tears she refused to let fall. "You deserved more from me, and I can't go back and give that to you. But I can finally make things right between us. I'm ready."

Quinn was startled by heavy, frantic knocking on the hotel room door. Heart racing, she blinked a few time to clear her bleary eyes, eyes adjusting to the faint morning light filtering in past the crack in the curtains. Her heavy lids fell shut again, but her sleepiness was disrupted by a second round of aggressive knocking on the door. She bolted upright, eyes tracing around and taking in the untouched bed on the other side of the room. Her own bed notable occupied only by her.

Santana had not returned last night.

With a flinch at yet a third round of knocking on the door, she slipped from the warmth of her bed and opened the door to find Rachel, completely dressed and done up for the wedding.

Rachel, for some reason, looked absolutely frazzled and out of breath.

"Oh, Quinn, thank God. I need to talk to Santana! Please tell me Santana came back last night," Rachel's words tumbled from her mouth at a speed Quinn wasn't sure was achievable by any normal human being as she stepped into the room.

Brain still waking up, Quinn merely shook her head, disappointed. She'd hoped to spend the night with Santana—to surprise her, but also to get some face-to-face time with her long-distance partner.

Rachel visibly deflated at Quinn's quiet response.

"Brittany didn't show up to the wedding. She… she stood up her fiancé. She just never showed up," Rachel's voice had withered into a distraught whisper.

When Quinn didn't respond, Rachel continued, "I haven't been able to get in contact with Santana."

The blonde's face went slack at the realization of what Rachel was implying. She let herself sit heavily on the bed, robe slipping open just a bit. She didn't even remember closing the door and walking deeper into the room, but she was grateful that she did. Her vision blurred with tears and Rachel laid a hand on her shoulder.

Quinn quickly shrugged it off, standing abruptly.

"I should go," she decided, refusing to let herself fall into despair. She wasn't going to mope around and wait. She'd find Santana, and she'd get answers. What Rachel was implying did not seem like behavior typical of Santana. Perhaps Rachel was operating with privileged information, given that Quinn assumed she barely understood the depth of Santana's previous relationship with Brittany. Even so…

"Go where?" Rachel asked watching the blonde drop her suitcase onto the empty bed and unzip it aggressively.

"I don't fucking know," Quinn lamented, her motions slowing down.

"Quinn…"

"Just… give me a minute," she requested, brushing away a traitorous tear from her cheek. She retreated into the bathroom with her overnight bag where she let herself cry while changing her clothes. She peered at her blotchy pink face in the mirror, her eyes red from crying and her eyelids swollen, and schooled her upset expression into one of indifference. Somehow, she found comfort in how, beneath the evidence of recent tears, she still looked the same. She would still be the same person, even without Santana. Or so she hoped.

She managed to wash her face and apply a fresh coat of make-up without lapsing into defeated tears. When she stepped back out into the room, Rachel paused in the pacing she'd been doing while Quinn had been in the bathroom. Her brown eyes widened, then furrowed as she took in what Quinn to be assumed a very put-together façade. Quinn opted to not acknowledge Rachel's staring, and instead checked her phone for any messages. She silently noted that the text she'd sent Santana the previous evening, after waiting a couple of hours for her return, had been left unanswered. She looked back up to see Rachel's disappointed expression.

"I'll let you know if I hear from Santana," Quinn decided to say before Rachel could say anything.

The Broadway star nodded slowly, sinking back down into a stiff sitting position on the bed. Her eyes glanced around the room before coming back to meet the exquisitely sad hazel of Quinn's.

"Quinn… I'm sorry."

She merely shrugged in response, bag in tow, and turned toward the door. Silently, she pulled it open only to reveal Santana standing on the other side, keycard in hand, laptop bag strapped across her chest. Her mascara was smudged and her eyes looked puffy and red as if she'd been crying. Her expression shifted from surprised to worried in record time.

A/N: Don't you just love when I make reference to posting "soon" in my author's note and then disappear for several months with nary a word or explanation? No? Yeah, didn't think so. Like always, thanks so much for reading. The past few months have been incredibly busy and ridiculous, and like every other month in 2020, each one felt like a year long. I do want to say to those of you who were hurt/devastated by Naya's passing: I was right there with you, heartbroken-especially for her son. It was definitely a shock and I hope you all have been able to find some level of peace afterward.

Keep up the good fight. More to come, eventually. (But, work is about to ramp up for me through December, so I can't estimate when I'll update next). If I don't update before November don't forget to get your Flu shots and (folks in the US please) vote!