"What's the worst that could happen?" Rachel asked right before I got off the phone with her. From every experience ever the worst days of my life started with this mere sentence. It has years since I had been back home. I ended up graduating from Yale and finishing up graduate school. I decided that I wanted to major in journalism. Now I work at one of the most amazing online magazines in New York and I have my own podcast. I like to think of myself as the real-life modern Carrie Bradshaw. The job keeps me busy; I get to rub elbows with the likes of Taylor Swift, Ashley Benson, and I have even met a few of the Kardashians. I have done a splendid job keeping up with most of the gang. Rachel and I, of course, are super close. Some of us live in different states so we only hear from each other every now and then, mostly holidays or when big life events happen. Yet, somehow, here I am on my way to save Santana's ass yet again. Some things never change. Since Rach is on tour with Mercedes, I am the only one close enough to check on San after her divorce with Britt. That's right they got a divorce. Brittany signed the papers making it final last week. San sold their house in upstate New York and is moving to a loft in the city. Today I am driving four hours to Albany to help her finish moving. I'd rather eat my $1,200 leather boots than to spend a whole day doing this.
Things have changed. I'm hoping I don't get the bitchy San. We are older, more put together. Santana is in her last year of law school and has been a paralegal for a few years now. To say I am proud of her is an understatement. I am not however happy with the way she handled the divorce. Although, I am not judging her necessarily because let's be honest, we all understand why she did it; I was a little disappointed in hearing that she almost got arrested for spray painting the word "cheater" on Brittany's car. She could have ruined her career before it even started but luckily, I pulled some strings and got it all cleared up. I won't pretend like I don't love Santana, we've always been bad bitches that alone has mended so many broken promises, catfights, and growing pains we have shared over the years. There's always been this unspoken pretty girl pact where we only know how to navigate through life using our looks as a weapon and a shield all in one. The reality is that we aren't those kids from Lima anymore, at the core, we may still have a lot of things in common but look at us. We will be thirty soon, Mike and Tina have kids, Artie and his wife are expecting their son any day now. Everyone off doing their own adult thing.
I pull into the driveway of what used to be a happy home. I sigh, before turning my car off and making my way to the front door which is cracked. The house looks empty from what I can see except for the boxes at the front door. I walk through the house looking for my friend who I hadn't seen since her grandma's funeral a few years ago. We would video chat every now and then, but we were always too busy to link up. Realizing the entire downstairs is empty, I make my way up the stairs. As soon as I get to the second floor, I hear singing. I walk closer. San is in the bedroom packing up a box that is marked 'THINGS I DON'T WANT.' "I won't tell you I'm lonely cause it might be selfish. I won't ask you to hold me cause that won't mend what's helpless. There's not a thing I could say. Not a song I could sing for your mind to change. Nothing can fill up the space. Won't ask you to stay. But let me ask you one thing. Ohhhh, when did you fall outta love? Outta love. Ohhhh, when did you fall outta love with me?" Her voice filled the air, and it was almost intoxicating. My arms covered in goosebumps, and I let out a notable gasp. I stare at Santana's face, even with her eyes closed I can see the pain draped over her entire body. She looks a little older but not by much. She has gained a little weight since we last seen each other but is still in really good shape. Her hair is longer than I ever remember seeing it. I must have broken her concentration because she opens her eyes and to stare back at me.
There have been very few times when Santana and I were rendered speechless. Like when I told her I was pregnant with Beth in high school, when we slept together, the first time we seen each other after Finn died, at her grandmother's funeral, and now. Thinking about how only one of those times was because of something good it dawned on me that we were each other's safety nets. Neither of us have ever been the kind of people to let others see through to who we really are except with one another. I cross the small space between us and wrap my arms around her. For a minute she hesitates but finally nuzzles into my hug putting her head on my shoulder before she falls apart. I slowly sit down and pulling her gently down with me as I cradle her. After what seems like a lifetime, she looks up at me with dry yet puffy eyes and whispers "Thank you for always being so good to me." As if my heart hadn't shattered enough today for her.
"San, we can count the scars and bruises on each other and tell the story of each of them. There will never be a time when I'm not good to you, as long as you are good to me." She gives me a despairing smile and gets off the floor while putting out a hand to help me up.
"Deal!" She says to break the sadness in the atmosphere. I graciously accept her hand and she accidently pulls me against her. Our eyes search each other's for a second as our noses touch before she turns around to grab the box and head downstairs. I follow.
We share our usual banter while we pack her car then we pack my car. I watch her lock the door for what is the last time, and she puts the key in the mailbox for the realtor to pick up later. Santana walks past me and before getting in her car "Let's hit the road Fabray. When we get to the city dinner is on me. I appreciate you doing this for me." I shoot her a smile and get into my car.
"With you Santana, not for you." I speak softly to myself thinking out loud. There is a difference in someone doing something for you out of obligation and with you because they care for you. The drive gave me time to think. Think about all of my failed relationships and why I was so hesitant to get married. Maybe this will turn into something good for San after she gets through the not so good part. My mom told me that when her and dad divorced it felt like she went through the stages of grief, like she was mourning the loss of someone who was no longer going to be in her life. I've seen Santana grieve and I've also seen her survive it. I hope she knows I'm rooting for her.