Chapter 13: A Way Home

Drew was a hyper-bug the rest of the week. As soon as he found out that Quinn and Artie were stealing me away in a few days to go see Santana – or 'the wife' as Drew has taken to calling her – he reached new levels of excitement. I think he's more excited than me actually, that I'm finally going to learn who I am and meet all the people I've forgotten.

He came over after work a few days during the week, getting more and more excited. At first he was only speculating, imagining what would happen and how things will work out. But eventually speculating turned into questioning, and that got a little annoying because he kept asking me things I don't have the answer to. What does Santana do for a living, has Quinn contacted my parents, did I have any pets before the accident?

Drew is my best friend, but sometimes he gets a little too enthusiastic for his own good.

Quinn had driven back home for the week, and then early Saturday morning was driving up to get me and Artie. The plan was to get to where Santana was living by mid-afternoon.

Quinn said she had arranged some place for the three of us to stay the night; she insisted that there was no way it would be a five-minute greeting with Santana and then that would be that, and she made it clear that she was not driving back and forth across the border all in one day. With that in mind, I had arranged for Drew to stop by my apartment to feed Hobbes until I got back.

Drew wasn't too pleased with the plan.

"B, I love you dearly. And by extension I'm required to love your cat. But I really can't be expected to get up for work earlier than normal just so I can stop by your place to feed the beast."

I'd given him my most stern and unimpressed look. "Drew."

"You're only going to be gone, what? A day or two? The Hobbester can last that long without food."

"Drew!"

"What? He has enough fat reserves to last him the winter; I think he can manage a few days."

"Okay, one. He isn't that fat, most of that weight is fur. He isn't over weight. Two, that's just cruel. How would you like it if I locked you in my apartment with no food for a few days?"

"I hate you."

"You love me."

Those last two were a common call-and-answer phrase in our relationship.

I still feel a little weird about the whole thing. Okay a lot weird. I mean, I was married to this woman. So, when I meet her now, how exactly am I supposed to act? Is she going to be mad at me, both for leaving-disappearing and then for coming back into her life after she's moved on?

Also, it's the day before Valentine's. So, awkward.

The drive there, it's exciting at first. Interesting rock formations and all kinds of different green plant life. But a half hour in and I'm bored. It is a desert. Not much else to it.

We pass the time by blasting Artie's iPod and singing – and in mine and Artie's case, seat dancing – until our heart's content. Quinn gets a little emotional, saying it reminds her of high school, the high school I couldn't remember, and that sobers us up for a little while.

Until another Michael Jackson number begins blasting from Quinn's car speakers. Cue obnoxious singing.

She and I trade-off part way through the drive. Artie can't because, well, not-working legs and all. He stays up front the whole time and Quinn and I switch about half way through, me moving from the back seat to drive us along the very boring highway. Quinn takes over driving again when we pull off the highway, since she knows where she's going and it's easier than directing me.

We turn onto a quiet residential street. The houses seem like they're all mismatched, different kinds thrown together into this neighbourhood. Some are bungalows, some are two stories. Some have small yards, some have massive lawns and driveways. There are lots of trees. It looks like a nice place to live. Quiet, not busy like the downtown of Phoenix.

Quinn pulls into a driveway. While she gets out and goes to get Artie's chair and help him out, I get out of the car and stare up at the house. There are clusters of balloons tied to the garage and front door.

Before the question even forms on my lips, Quinn's voice sounds from behind me. "It's her daughter's birthday."

Artie laughs, "That was your plan, wasn't it? To party crash? Very sneaky, Quinn."

Quinn sees my worried look and explains further. "Santana knows I'm coming, I told her I was bringing someone along."

Artie nods at this as the two of them begin to make their way to the front door. I follow, but hesitantly. Something unhappy is settling inside me, making my stomach twist. Not only am I just showing up at this woman's house unannounced after five years, but I'm intruding on her family. That's something personal, something theirs. She moved on with her life, it doesn't seem fair of Quinn and Artie to bring me back into it.

I'm still curious; I want to meet the woman I married. But I'm still hesitant.

Between the two of us we manage to get Artie lifted up the two front steps. Then Quinn raps on the door.

After a few seconds I can hear pounding feet inside, running down the hall. A body ploughs into the door roughly before it's thrown open. A little girl stands there, in a red dress with grass-stained white tights. Her expression when she opened the door is excited, like she was hoping we were someone else. Her face falls when she sees that it's not who she expected.

"Hey, munchkin," Quinn says cheerfully.

The little girl blinks, seeming to realize who is at the door, and smiles. "Aunt Quinn!"

The girl is small, with skinny little arms and tiny stocking-covered feet. She has a mane of dark hair on her head that is somewhat held back with a white ribbon headband. Her tanned cheeks are a little red, like she's been running around for some time, but her dark eyes shine happily at us.

She throws her small arms around Quinn's middle and squeezes before latching onto her hand and dragging her inside. "Aunt Quinn, you're here! I didn't know you were going to be here!"

Quinn smiles, "I told your mom I was coming by."

Artie rolls himself in and I'm close behind, pulling the door shut after me. It's warm inside. Not warm like the temperature; the house feels lived in, alive, loved. The feeling wraps around me, pulling me in, and I feel even more out of place. I shouldn't be here.

"I thought you were coming tomorrow! That's when the family party is, on my actual birthday! This is just for my friends!" She dances on her feet, her dress fanning out. She has a lot of energy for someone so small. "I thought you were the clown!"

"The clown?" Quinn asks excitedly, her teeth showing as she smiles at the little girl's exuberance.

The little girl nods her head eagerly and her dark bangs flops in front of her face. She shakes her head and tosses them out of her eyes as she speaks, "We're all outside playing but I had to pee so I came inside and the clown wasn't here yet so I heard the door and thought it was the clown but it was you!"

Her attention suddenly changes and she directs a look at Artie and I. "Who are you?" She's still bouncing up and down on her feet, hanging on Quinn's arm.

"I brought some friends with me," Quinn says, "They aren't the clown, but I hope that's okay."

Artie wheels himself forward a little bit, "Hey there, Ruby Tuesday."

She squints at him, her face pinching adorably. This girl is very cute.

Artie sighs, "You don't remember me, do you?" The little girl shakes her head. "You've only met me once before, when you were a baby."

She nods slowly, suddenly calm. "But I know you," she states. "From the pictures. The wheeley man. You have wheels for feet. That's cool. I wish I had wheels for feet. It would make me go so much faster!"

"I don't know," Artie laughs, offering her his hand to shake. She grips it with both of her smaller ones and gives it a good swing, "You seem to have enough energy as it is."

She nods happily, "Mamá says I'm like the battery bunny, but I'm not pink so how can that work?" She turns her attention to me, and like with Artie, she squints at me as she takes me in. But she's also frowning, "You look like…"

She doesn't finish; the door to their backyard must be open as suddenly the squeals of small children erupt along with a loud masculine laugh. She bounces faster on her feet, looking over her shoulder as she speaks, "We're playing Jungle Book; we're all the animals and there's a dinosaur trying to eat us. I'm the tiger – I have to go save my friends, bye!" She looks back at us for a second and then suddenly bolts down the hall, running back outside.

"Tell your mom we're here!" Quinn calls right before there's a loud slam of a door. She looks at me as she speaks, "That's Ruby. She has a lot of energy."

"The kid's a beast," Artie comments.

Quinn smiles, stepping out of her shoes and dropping her bag, "You should see her on the soccer field. I've come down for a game before. She's the smallest one on the team, but my God can that girl run fast."

Artie considers this, then says, "Remind me never to buy her roller blades."

While the two of them are happily discussing the energy of the little girl we met, I'm rooted to the spot, the earlier feeling of discomfort growing. I know I shouldn't be here. This little girl's party is for her friends, with her mother and father out back with them; I'm going to ruin it. The moment her mother sees me I'm going to ruin it. The discomfort builds, coiling into a tight ball inside me, pressing against my insides and making it hard to breath.

Quinn is suddenly standing next to me. She lays a hand on my shoulder as she steps around to stand in front of me, her voice low and soothing, "I know this is hard for you but… trust me."

"I don't even know you," my mouth responds without my permission.

"I know, but… Brittany did. And she trusted me. I need you to, too."

I nod slowly because something inside me does trust her, something deep down recognizes her, and Artie, and makes it easier for me to believe them even though I have no memory of them. And they're so open and trusting of me, it makes it easier to give that back to them. "Okay," I tell her.

Quinn smiles, and then she leads Artie and me down the hall and into one of the rooms in of the house. Like the rest of the house, it feels warm in here, like someone wraps a warm wool blanket over my shoulders as soon as I enter. There's a plush couch that Quinn drops into with a happy sigh, Artie rolling over to sit near her. There's a big window on one wall, and furniture all over. Shelves filed with books and candles and knickknacks, comfy chairs and the couch, a coffee table, a piano, and shelves on the walls; but it makes it feel lived in, not crowded.

There's a faux brick fireplace that catches my attention, and while Artie and Quinn talk quietly I make my way over to it, intrigued.

The mantle is covered in picture frames of all different sizes and colours. My eyes start at one end and inspect each one, making my way across.

There's a big one on the far left, inside it a picture of what must be Santana's whole family. There are about twelve people in the photograph, but I can only pick out her and a toddler-sized Ruby in her arms. She looks older than the picture Artie showed me, from when we were in high school, but she still looks really good. Both her and her daughter are wearing beaming smiles.

Next to that is the photo Artie showed me, the glee club I don't remember crowded around a first place Sectionals trophy I don't remember winning. I pick out Santana, Quinn, Artie and myself in the picture. It's eerie, looking at the image of me when I don't remember the picture being taken. It's like I'm looking at a picture of a twin I never knew I had; she looks just like me, but she isn't me.

After that is a picture of Santana and a brunette woman – same as the one in the glee picture – half hugging and facing the camera. Its night at the time of the picture, and there are lots of blurry people in the background. It's also snowing, and there are bright lights behind them.

Something flashes inside my head. I know this. I was there. I… the top right corner of the picture is pink, someone's finger caught on the lens. My finger. I was there. I took this picture. I don't remember what it is, where me and Santana and the other woman are, but I know I took this picture.

My eyes linger a few seconds longer, but when nothing else comes I move on to the next one. In the center of the mantle is a tiny framed picture of Ruby when she was a baby, wrapped in a pink and purple quilt. She's probably only a few days old in the picture, with smooth and chubby tanned skin and a full head of dark hair.

That picture is sitting in front of a larger framed one, of Santana and Ruby together. They're lying in a pile of autumn-coloured leaves, heads together, looking up and grinning at the camera. They look so similar here, and I take a long moment to take everything about their faces in. How much they look alike, and how different they are. The biggest thing is the eyes, they both have the same soft, dark eyes.

My eyes slide to the right and I jump back, not expecting a picture of myself. It's of the side of my face and shoulders; I'm looking at something away from the camera. I look older than I do in the glee picture, but my memory doesn't throw anything at me of when this picture was taken. There's a simple smile on my lips, like I'm looking at something but unaware my picture is being taken. It stirs something inside me, that she has a picture of me on her mantle. I left her five years ago but she still has a picture of me.

There's two pictures left. One is a family portrait, but not of Santana and Ruby. Quinn. Quinn is in the picture, along with the tall, Asian man in the glee club picture and a toddler with big brown eyes and dark hair. Quinn's family. I didn't realize she was married, she never mentioned that. I had no idea she was going back and forth across the California-Arizona border to see me while she had her own family to be with.

I would contemplate that longer, but the final picture on the mantle catches my attention so sharply the air is knocked right out of me. It's of Santana and me.

It's a wedding photo.