Chapter 5: Different Types of Pain

Rachel doesn't like sports. She doesn't understand them. But she supports her boyfriend and he's the quarterback on the football team. She sits between Kurt and Uncle Burt on the bleachers. She, Kurt, and Blaine are sharing a blanket over their laps. Fall is setting in and temperatures are dropping. She may not understand the game, even with her uncle telling her about it, but she gets excited when Finn is holding the ball. Or throwing the ball. Or catching the ball. Or running. Basically, it's Finn she gets excited about. Uncle Burt gives up trying to explain the rules to her and turns his attention to Mrs. Hudson who is sitting on his other side. Like her, Kurt doesn't care. But apparently Blaine loves football, so Kurt listens attentively as the shorter boy explains the game. Or at least he pretends to pay attention. Rachel grins.

Other than watching Finn (and her other friends on the team), Rachel likes watching the interactions between the marching band and the cheerleaders. Apparently there's some mild animosity. The cheerleaders have certain cheers they are taught that follow specific songs the marching band plays. However, the marching band likes messing with the cheerleaders by randomly changing the tempo. Watching her cheerleader friend's (and Sue's) faces while they try to adapt to unpredictable tempo changes is amusing. When the game ends and McKinley wins, Rachel stands and cheers with the rest of the crowd. She moves down to the side of the field. Finn runs over to her, picks her up, and spins her around before kissing her. She laughs and holds on tight, happy to see him so excited.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Warm lips pressing against her forehead wake her. She moves her head. Fingers brush her hair back.

"I was just checking your temperature. It's Saturday. Go back to sleep." Her mom whispers.

She does.

The next time she wakes up, her room is bright. With a sigh, she pushes herself up. She's sore. She's used to the ache of bruises; normally she barely notices but this morning its particularly bad. She ignores it and walks into her bathroom, turning on the shower. While it warms up, she strips off her pajamas. Something in the mirror catches her attention. She looks at her reflection, horrified. Her hands gently follow the same path as her eyes, tracing over the deep purple, almost black, bruises on her stomach, sides, and chest. The worst of them are in spots where she knows people wrap their arms around her most frequently. They hurt. Actually hurt. Lighter bruises, in shades of blue and green, dot her arms. She stares, taking it all in. When she's able to shake herself free, she showers. Rachel walks downstairs, still a little shaken. Sure, they'd hurt, but not enough that she thought they were that bad. She's still frowning when she walks into the kitchen. Her mom is washing a dish at the sink. She turns to Rachel with a smile. The smile falters when she sees Rachel's expression. She follows Rachel to the table and sits next to her, taking Rachel's chin in her hand.

"Talk."

Rachel smirks. "Is this a police interrogation?"

Her mom smiles at her and releases her chin, but sits back in her chair. Her relaxed yet expectant body posture and steady eye contact tell Rachel she won't be leaving the table without giving an explanation. Rachel lightly drums her fingers on the table and sighs. After a moment, she lifts her shirt to just under her bra. Her mom gasps, looking just as horrified as she herself had been earlier. She leans forward and very lightly runs her fingers over the bruises.

"God, Rachel. These look really bad! Do they hurt?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"They're just from….everyday stuff. Being hugged. Being held. Dancing."

Her mom is shaking her head, though whether its in horror or sympathy is unclear. "Lean forward, hun." Rachel does. Her mom examines her back. "Your back is just as bad, honey."

Tears unexpectedly leap to her eyes. "I don't want people to stop hugging me just because I'll bruise!"

Her mother quickly releases her shirt and pulls her into a hug. She's careful to avoid the worst of the bruises, but still manages to actually hug Rachel. She cries into her mom's neck. When she's calm, her mom sits them up and looks her in the eyes.

"We won't stop hugging you, Rach. We'll just be a little more careful. I'd like to check your bruises every day or so from now on, just to keep an eye on them. Okay?" Rachel nods glumly, wiping away her tears. "Let's get some ice on these. I'm just afraid it'll hurt worse. The ice packs are hard. I suppose we could use a bag of frozen peas. I just wish I had something that…."

She trails off, head tilted in thought. Rachel waits. After a minute, her mom stands, kisses Rachel's head, and grabs her phone. While waiting for an answer, her mom places a bowl of cereal in front of her. She's really not hungry but knows better than to refuse.

"Hi, Sydney. By any chance, do you still have the soft ice packs and ace bandages from when Max broke his collar bone?"

Rachel slowly spoons cereal into her mouth and does her best to chew and swallow, trying to pretend she's actually hungry. She watches her mother pace the kitchen while talking to their neighbor. By the time her mom hangs up, Rachel has managed about half the bowl and given up. Her mom takes it away and hands her a banana instead. Rachel swallows down her argument and eats the banana, hoping it doesn't make her throw up. A few minutes later, Mrs. Gaither arrives with supplies in hand. They have Rachel stand and hold her shirt up over her chest. Mrs. Gaither's jaw momentarily drops before she manages to collect herself. Not that Rachel can blame her. The two older women work together to gently, but securely, wrap the soft ice packs over her torso.

"We'll leave them on for a while, then start alternating time with them on and off."

Rachel's face scrunches up. "I'm supposed to wear them all day?"

Her mom raises an eyebrow. "Were you planning on going anywhere?"

She lets her shoulders slump dejectedly. "No, but…if that changes or if someone comes over, I'm just supposed to have lumps under my clothes?"

Her mom grins, pulling the ace bandage a little tighter while crouched in front of her. "They're just small bumps."

"They're not the only small bumps under my shirt." Rachel mumbles.

The older women burst out laughing. Rachel grins slightly, but she was serious. Her boobs are small!

"Relax, Rachel," Mrs. Gaither says, "most guys don't care about that."

She shrugs doubtfully. She and Finn haven't gotten that far. The women continue to work, covering as much of the bruised area as securely as possible without being too tight. She sucks in a breath. Her mother's eyes snap up to hers. It only takes an instant for her mom to recognize what's happening and stand, grabbing hold of Rachel's forearms to support her.

"What—" Mrs. Gaither begins.

"It's a mild attack." Her mother explains, eyes still on her.

Maybe it's the pain of the bruises or the ice packs against her chest, but this one almost seems worse than normal. Or harder to handle than usual. She leans a little more of her weight into her mom's grasp. Her mother presses her forehead against hers, her sympathetic expression slipping into one of worry.

"Rach?" She asks quietly.

She has no way of answering, so she focuses on breathing as evenly as possible. It ends and she releases the rest of the air in her lungs in relief. She lifts her eyes to her mom's and nods. Her mother clearly wants more of an explanation, but after her eyes flick to Mrs. Gaither still watching in concern, she doesn't press.

"You good?"

"Yeah."

From where Mrs. Gaither is still holding an icepack steady behind her, she hears a sigh of relief. Rachel glances back at her and smiles. "I'm fine. They happen often enough and don't usually last long."

"And that was a mild? The least painful of the three?" She inquires.

Rachel shrugs lightly. The woman shakes her head. She and her mother finish wrapping Rachel's torso.

"Thanks again, Sydney."

Mrs. Gaither smiles warmly at them. "It's no problem. You can hold on to them." She rolls her eyes. "Until Max breaks another bone, at least."

They chuckle and her mom walks Mrs. Gaither out. Rachel pulls her shirt down over the ice packs. The cold actually feels pretty good, but the pressure doesn't. She doesn't notice her mother return until she looks up. Her mom is leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her with a frown. Rachel shrugs.

"It sucks."

Her mom's lips twitch briefly, but she doesn't smile. "Tell me about the attack." Rachel bites her lip and looks down. "No, you're not avoiding this. Something was different. Tell me."

"It…seemed worse."

"Yes, I got that part. Worse how?"

Rachel shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. Just worse. Maybe because the bruises hurt so much? I don't know."

Her mom comes closer and takes her hands. "Honey, why didn't you tell me when they started hurting? Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

Rachel meets her mom's eyes and forces herself to open her mouth. "I'm always in pain."

Her mother flinches back like she's been smacked. "What?"

Rachel looks down. She hates upsetting her mother. Gentle fingers lift her chin until they're making eye contact.

"What do you mean you're always in pain?"

"I..…"

She can't get the words out. Her mom wraps an arm around her shoulders and leads her to the living room. They curl up on the couch. Rachel settles carefully, trying not to put more pressure on her bruises. Her mom rubs her arm and she twists the hem of her shirt.

"It's not always bad pain. Like the bruises. Usually they only hurt when pressed. And even then, it's just enough for me to notice them. Sometimes they hurt more, like I wonder if I should get an icepack or something, but not bad enough that I feel like I have to follow through on that thought. Sometimes I have a headache. Just enough of one to be irritating, barely even painful. But sometimes they are worse and I don't feel good. Or they're really bad and I finally ask for medicine."

"Anything else?"

"Um….sometimes my arm hurts where the IV was inserted. For an hour or two afterwards. Not often, though."

"Rachel, is there anything else, and I mean absolutely anything else that you haven't told me? About your symptoms or how you feel? Any little thing?"

Rachel takes a minute to really think about it. Has she told her everything now? Other than that one little thought that she keeps shoved down into the dark recess of her heart and will never tell anyone about, she thinks she has. "I feel tired more often. But I think that's obvious."

"It may be obvious, but I still want you to tell me these things."

"Okay. Then I think that's it."

Her mom is quiet for a few minutes, just holding her. "Rachel I feel like I am constantly asking you the same question: why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, with the tiredness, I really did think it was obvious enough that I didn't need to say it."

"I'll buy that. But like I said, I still want you to actually tell me. Even if you think I already know, I'd rather hear it from you."

"Okay. And with the pain…..it's not bad. I'm used to it. And when it is bad, I tell you and ask for Tylenol."

Her mom expels a breath of air and rests her head on top of hers. "Hangnails, Rachel. Hangnails."

A conversation from so long ago, still relevant today. The reality of it is crushing.

"Sometimes I just don't want to face it." Rachel whispers. "It's easier to pretend."

"No more pretending, Rachel. I'll help you face it."

"I know you will. I just…." Rachel's face crumples. "I'm tired of being in pain."

It's the closest she'll let herself come to voicing her real feelings on the matter. Her mom holds her close.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After Rachel fell asleep for the night, Shelby found herself back at her piano. The song that had been floating through her mind at the end of the summer coming back to haunt her. Or encourage her. She thinks of her daughter's tears over dealing with this illness. She's tired of being in pain. Shelby is tired of seeing her kid in pain. But they have to have hope that she'll start getting better. That the pain will ease.

Hope.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finn enjoys mornings for one reason and one reason only. His first class of the day is with his girlfriend. He grins when he enters Spanish class and sees her already sitting there, diligently looking over her notes. Unlike Brittany, sitting behind her, who seems to be drawing with crayons. Sliding into the seat next to her, he pecks her cheek.

"Good morning." She says with a smile.

Her smile sometimes does something funny to his stomach and this time is no exception. "Good morning. What're you doing?"

"Studying. You should try it sometime." She says teasingly.

He laughs. "Studying, right, I've heard of that."

She laughs, eyes sparkling. He feels warm inside. She's so beautiful. He reaches for her hand and continues to hold it when Mr. Schue begins class. He really does try to pay attention. He and Rach had been joking around, but he knows he needs to study more. But the feel of her hand in his is distracting. It's small and soft. After a while she gently slides her hand away so she can take notes. Right, he should do that too. About 10 minutes later, Finn actually has a page of notes. Cool. He's pretty proud of himself and hopes Rachel is proud, too.

"Finn." Rachel's voice is very quiet.

He looks over at her, surprised. She never talks during class and doesn't usually allow him to distract her either. But then he sees her expression. Her hands raise up to press against her chest and her face scrunches up in pain. Time slows for just a moment, then his body begins to move before his mind can catch up. He stands and grabs her upper arms. Before he can decide how best to get her onto the ground, Mr. Schue is suddenly by them. He grabs Rachel's legs and nods to Finn, face grim. Together, they lift her off of the stool and lower her to the ground. Finn quickly sits behind her and wraps his arms around her. Mr. Schue takes off at a jog to the phone and calls the nurse. Brittany kneels next to them and takes one of Rachel's hands. Feeling his girlfriend tense up and gasp for breath makes him want to throw up. Or break things. He lowers his head, pressing his cheek against hers.

"It's alright. It's okay. You're alright. It'll end soon." An endless litany. She tries to curl her body forward, so he follows her with his, supporting her.

"Just breathe, Rachie." Brittany whispers, tears brimming her eyes. The blond cheerleader still can't handle seeing Rachel in pain well. Not after witnessing that severe attack last June.

Finn ignores their classmates, who are watching wide-eyed. At one point, Rachel's body goes rigid. He realizes she hasn't taken in a breath. His heart starts pounding in his ears.

"Breathe, Rachel. Take a breath. With me." He takes in a breath, hoping she feels it. His heart returns to normal when he hears her take in a shaky breath. "Good. Again."

As Mr. Schue comes back to them, Rachel lets out a quiet moan. Finn closes his eyes and prays for it to end. When she un-tenses and begins taking in short, shallow breaths, he knows it has. He leans back again, pulling her tighter against his chest and kissing her head.

"You alright?" Mr. Schue asks her quietly. Finn feels her nod. "Okay. The nurse will be here soon. I'm going to continue class. You guys can stay like this."

Mr. Schuester pulls the class' attention back to him and continues the lesson, though speaking quieter than before. He feels Rachel shiver a bit and recalls that she had seemed cold after most moderate attacks. He thought that had ended, but apparently not. Or maybe it has started up again. Brittany must have noticed too, because she gets up. She returns seconds later with her sweater and puts it on the small brunette. The nurse enters, nods to Mr. Schue, and kneels by Rachel. Nurse Brown puts the oxygen mask on her first. Then she listens to her lungs and checks her pulse. Ms. Holliday walks in at this point, frowning.

"Do you want to come to my office or stay here?" The nurse whispers.

Rachel surprises Finn by stating a quiet "Stay. I don't...need to go."

But the nurse nods. "I'm still calling your mother and informing her, but I'll tell her you'd like to stay at school. Just take it easy for the rest of the day."

Again, he feels Rachel nod. When the nurse leaves, Ms. H takes her place. "You sure you want to stay?"

Rachel nods again, then looks up at him. "Are you good with... staying like this?"

"Totally." He whispers back.

She smiles, grateful and tired. For the rest of class, Finn holds his girlfriend in his lap and Brittany sits next to them, still holding Rachel's hand. The three simply listen to the class, but don't participate. Ms. H sits in the back of the room, watching. Everyone around them begins packing up. Ms. H starts packing up Rachel's stuff, then his and Brittany's. Mr. Schue comes back over to them, helping Rachel remove the oxygen.

"You didn't want to go home?"

"No. I end up going home every time and missing the rest of the day. But other than being tired, I feel fine afterwards."

"Alright. Luckily, Glee is next. I don't even want you singing. Got it?"

Rachel sighs, frowning, but nods. Finn and Brittany help her stand. All the way to the choir room Rachel leans on him. He doesn't mind supporting most of her weight, but he wishes she'd let him carry her. Brittany and Ms. H follow carrying all of their backpacks and walk slowly next to them. He's grateful that Rachel didn't waver until they made it to their destination. Rachel's knees had buckled just as they entered the choir room. He scooped her up and carried her to a chair. He and Britt sit on either side of her. Rachel leans against Finn. Brittany picks up Rachel's legs and places them over her lap, making Rachel giggle. Ms. Holliday insists on putting the nasal cannula on her for a while. Rachel tries to argue with her, but Ms. H says it's either accept the nasal cannula or go home. They chat quietly while waiting for everyone else to arrive. When Kurt enters, he does a double take upon spotting Rachel. He breaks away from his conversation with Mercedes and Tina and heads towards them.

"Rachel? You look terrible. Are you okay?" The fashionable boy eyes her worriedly.

Finn looks down at his girlfriend. She does look pale. Plus, wearing the nasal cannula always makes her seem…..worse. She gives Kurt a rueful smile but Brittany answers for her.

"She had an attack in Spanish."

Kurt frowns. "A moderate attack? And you didn't go home?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, Kurt. Just tired."

Kurt shakes his head. "Stubborn ass." He stalks away to sit by Mercedes.

Rachel shivers slightly, despite still wearing Brittany's sweater. Finn frowns. He forgets why she gets so cold after attacks. There had been a medical reason, he just doesn't remember. He vows to look it up later. He wants to know everything he can about her illness so that he's better informed. The better informed he is, the better he'll hopefully be able to help her. Figuring sitting on hard plastic isn't going to keep her warm, he pulls her up onto his lap. He lifts his feet so they're on the chair in front of him. She lays back against him with a contented sigh. Tina helps out by placing her own sweater over Rachel's legs. The tiny diva smiles and thanks her. Sam and Quinn walk in together. Upon seeing Rachel, Sam stumbles to a stop, wide-eyed. Finn wonders if he'll finally figure out what's going on. The rest of the club has been waiting for him to put 2 and 2 together. Quinn just sighs and comes over to kiss Rachel's cheek before sitting in the row behind her.

Sam comes over slowly, frowning hard. "Uh, Rachel? Are you okay?"

Rachel smiles. "Yeah, Sam. I'll be fine."

"What's….is that oxygen?"

"Yes."

Finn hides his smile in her hair, hearing quiet chuckles from the rest of the club. Sam looks around, bewildered. Finally he shakes his head and focuses on Rachel. "Alright, look, I've noticed something off for a while but couldn't put my finger on what. You're never alone. And whoever is with you usually has an arm around you or is touching you in some way which sounds weird, but you know what I mean. You miss a lot of school. When you're not here, the rest of them are…..quieter. Mopey. Not as upbeat. You sit out of Glee sometimes. And everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone else, hangs on your every word. Sometimes it's like they're waiting to jump at your command. I just thought they really respected you at first, but…now…" he runs his fingers through his hair "….I don't get it. What's going on?"

Rachel's lips twitch and eyebrows raise. After a moment, her face settles into a calm but serious expression. "I'm sick, Sam."

"Sick."

"I have a rare blood disease."

"Is it…..bad?"

"Yeah. It's potentially life threatening and I'm in stage three." Sam's eyes, now solemn, lock with hers. "I get tired a lot, so I stay home to rest or sit out of Glee. I get….attacks of pain that leave me exhausted. I had one this morning."

"I'm sorry."

She smiles. "Thanks."

His eyes find Ms. Holliday. "Uh, and, who exactly are you? No one ever really said."

The class chuckles again. Rachel answers. "That's Holly Holliday. She's my tutor-slash-nurse. She gets to follow me around, take me home when I'm tired, and tutors me at home when I'm not at school."

Sam nods his understanding. He squeezes Rachel's shoulder and goes to sit. Santana shakes her head.

"Only took him a month."

Rachel watches their friends sing and dance. Finn watches her. She never once complains, but he can see the emotion in her eyes. The tall quarterback tries to focus on the positive. He got to spend the first two classes of the day holding his girlfriend.

He just hates what it cost.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel spent the rest of the morning moving slowly. Her friends never let her be alone, which she's used to and she honestly didn't mind. Her mom texted her repeatedly, checking in. Lunch was shared in the choir room again. Kurt, who had seemed distant during glee, clung to her side through lunch. Rachel may not have eaten very much, but she did eat and joke around with her friends. By the afternoon she was fine. She was honestly fine before then, but her friends didn't believe her until the afternoon when she could finally walk under her own power.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shelby sits on the edge of Rachel's bed and runs her hand lightly over her daughter's back. Kelly stands in the doorway watching. She'd come over for a girls weekend. They'd watched romance movies the night before and had a good time. Their plans for today are changing slightly. Rachel moves slowly, rubbing her eyes before rolling onto her side.

"Mom?" Her voice is rough with sleep.

"Good morning, honey. We need to talk for a minute. You can go back to sleep afterwards if you need to."

Rachel sighs and pushes herself into a sitting position. She glances at Kelly, then focuses on Shelby. "What's going on?"

"Your dad called. I know we were supposed to go over there next weekend so you could go through your old room and pack up anything you want to keep, but there's been a change. Your dad needs to get to Texas a week earlier than planned to handle a situation in person."

"So we're going this weekend, then?"

"No. He said there's actually not much left, so he packed it all up himself. He'll bring it over later today."

Rachel looks down at her lap, twisting the sheet in her hands. "So…we'll…."

Shelby reaches out, taking one of her daughter's hands. "You'll say goodbye today." Rachel's lower lip trembles. "Just for now. You'll continue to talk on the phone and text. You just won't see him as much in person."

Rachel looks up at her. "So really, nothing will change."

Shelby is torn. Part of her is devastated for her child. Most of the rest of her is furious with Leroy. A small sliver is relieved he'll be out of the picture. "I'm sorry, honey."

Rachel shrugs. "Not your fault. You're here. I was actually thinking not long ago….if CPS hadn't reached out to you, I'd be jumping between Dad's house and Kurt's while dealing with all this."

The thought makes her feel ill. "I'm glad you don't have to do that. I'm glad I'm here."

Rachel squeezes her hand. "Me too."

There's a sweet moment of comfortable silence.

"What about me?"

Shelby rolls her eyes. Trust Kelly to chime in. Rachel grins at her aunt. "I'm glad you're here too, but let's face it; it's mostly mom."

Kelly glances at Shelby quickly before continuing her conversation with Rachel. They'd had that exact talk last night after Rachel went to bed. How Shelby is largely dealing with a very sick child alone. Burt helps out. And now Holly helps during the weekdays. And Rachel's friends. Kelly, as well as the rest of their family, wants to be more involved in their lives. They want to be more involved in Rachel's care. Shelby loves the idea of it, but she finally has custody of her daughter and she's already sharing custody (sort of) with Burt. It's hard, but she wants to be caring for her child herself. Hiring Holly instead of quitting or taking an extended leave was hard for her. She only went through with it because they need the income. Rachel's medical bills are no joke. Shelby is grateful she has lived modestly and saved up majority of her earnings for the past decade.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few hours later Leroy Berry was carrying the last box into her living room. Rachel stands awkwardly to the side. Her hands are twisting the hem of her shirt. Leroy sets the box down then stands, looking just as awkward as his daughter. With a reluctant sigh, Shelby kisses Rachel's cheek and walks out, grabbing her sister's hand as she does.

"What?" Kelly whispers fiercely. "You're just going to-"

"I'm giving father and daughter a few minutes of privacy to say goodbye, Kel." Shelby whispers back just as fiercely.

She busies her hands with making coffee. When it's done, she gives her impatient sister a stern look, then peeks into the living room. Her daughter is engulfed in her father's arms. Both their faces are wet with tears. She quietly steps back into the kitchen. Kelly slides her a mug of the fresh coffee. Her sister starts quietly relating stories of Abby and Tyler. Both are doing well in college, though Tyler is debating changing majors. They halt their conversation when they hear the front door close. Shelby hurries into the living room. Her daughter is sitting on the floor just staring at the boxes before her. She looks lost. And hurt. Shelby sits beside her, silent and waiting. Rachel doesn't look at her. Kelly joins them and stays just as silent. After a few minutes, Rachel swipes at her eyes with the back of her hand and reaches for the nearest box. Shelby rests her hand on her daughter's back, but doesn't speak. Rachel flips through the items, scoffing at most of them.

"Most of this can be donated." She says quietly, holding onto a few trinkets.

Shelby nods. "Okay."

Kelly slides the "donate" box out of the way and pushes another over to her. Rachel goes through this one a little more carefully. She pulls out a water globe of a unicorn. Rachel cradles it in her hands, an expression of nostalgia on her face.

"What's that from?" She asks her.

"Fourth grade. I was having a hard time making friends. For various reasons. My dads got me this to remind me that I'm a unicorn amongst horses. Standing out is a good thing, even if other people don't believe it."

Shelby smiles.

"And this one?" Kelly asks, holding up a second water globe from the box.

Rachel barely glances at it. "Dad got that for me the first time he went on a trip and left me home alone."

Shelby's stomach, and good mood, sinks. Kelly hesitates. "So, do you…"

"Donate."

"Alright, sweetheart."

Rachel pulls the next few things out and looks them over, debating what to do with them.

"Oh, it's locked. Do you still have the key?"

Rachel's head snaps over to her aunt. Shelby is disquieted by the look on her face. Kelly sees it and is also instantly alarmed.

"Rachel?"

Rachel takes the box from Kelly's hand. "Um, I….don't think so. We can…it's probably just trash. Nothing important. You can trash it."

Worry of a new variety creeps slowly through the mother. She locks eyes with her sister.

Kelly quietly clears her throat. "Well, it looks like a fairly flimsy lock. I'm sure we could break it pretty easily and see what's inside. Just to make sure there's nothing inside you'd like to keep."

"No, that's…..that's not necessary, but thank you."

Shelby places a hand on top of the box that Rachel is still holding. "Rachel, I think you should open it."

"It's nothing."

"Then why is it protected by a lock?"

Rachel flounders, eyes scanning the room. "It was…I put it on a long time ago, it's not….anything important. We'll throw it away."

She tries to place the box in the trash pile, but Shelby presses down on it firmly, stopping her. Rachel looks up at her with wide, nervous eyes. "I would feel better if we could open it up."

"But…"

"Rachel. The fact that you're reacting this way to it is….concerning. Open it, please."

Her daughter stares down at the box looking almost scared. Her shoulders curl forwards protectively. "It's stupid. Embarrassing."

"We love embarrassing stories." Kelly insists with a forced smile.

Rachel still hesitates, fiddling with the lock. The sisters share another look. "Rachel, I need to know what's in there."

"I can get a hammer or pliers and break it." Kelly says quietly.

Rachel bites her lip, eyes darting around. After a moment, she reaches into the third box, rummaging around. She removes a book. Shelby gets a clear glimpse of the title: My Heart. Rachel opens the book. Inside, a small hole has been carved in the pages. Nestled within is a tiny key. Clever, yet melodramatic. Shelby is both amused and worried. Rachel looks between the two of them.

"I think…..maybe…..Aunt Kelly can look inside?" Shelby stills. Her level of anxiety skyrockets. Before she can comment, Rachel goes on. "Just…she can look and….she can decide….what to tell you."

Shelby's eyes find Kelly's. The sisters are both tense. Shelby gives a short, jerky nod.

Kelly nods slowly. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll look."

Rachel very slowly hands her the key. Shelby is gritting her teeth but trying to stay calm while her sister removes the lock. Kelly lifts the lid and peers inside. She frowns at whatever she sees.

"What—"

Shelby glances at Rachel. Her daughter is twisting her shirt so hard Shelby worries the shirt won't be able to snap back to it's original form. Kelly removes a small book from the box. It's a journal, Shelby realizes. A nice one. Smaller than most notebooks. Kelly flips through a few pages. Something on one of the pages makes her freeze, her expression falling.

"Rach—"

"Wait," Rachel interrupts, "can you….look at it….upstairs? Please?"

Kelly stares hard at Rachel, her expression unreadable. She then slides her gaze to Shelby. The look in her eyes makes Shelby's stomach roll. Her sister looks back at Rachel and nods carefully. "Alright. I'll take it upstairs."

Shelby focuses on not vomiting or shaking while she watches her sister carry the box, with the journal tucked back inside, upstairs. Once she's out of sight, Shelby looks at her child. Rachel's eyes are wet and she's staring at the ground.

"Rachel—" She begins, but realizes she doesn't know what else to say.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I just….you wanted to know, but I'm not sure…...and it really is embarrassing."

Thinking back over how easily Rachel doubts she loves her, Shelby slides closer and wraps an arm around her. She swallows down her own fears. "It's alright, honey. No matter what is in there, I love you. Nothing will ever change that. Ever."

Rachel leans into her and nods. "I love you, Mom."

Shelby kisses her head.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kelly finally walks down the stairs. Shelby's heart jumps into her throat at the look on her sister's face. Rachel and Shelby have finished going through the boxes. They're sorted into three boxes: keep, donate, trash. Kelly completely ignores Shelby, which does nothing for the mother's nerves. She instead grasps Rachel's hand.

"C'mon, sweetheart. We've gotta talk."

Rachel cringes, but follows without arguing. Shelby sits in the empty living room wringing her hands and praying.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kelly returns alone. Shelby stands, arms wrapped around herself. Her sister walks into her, wrapping her in a firm embrace. Shelby leans into her big sister.

"How scared do I need to be?"

"Not scared, Shel. Try to relax. It's nothing bad. But you do need to read it. It took a while to convince Rachel of that. She really was embarrassed about it."

Shelby sits on the couch, head in her hands. "Where is she?"

"In the bathroom. She'll be down soon. I suggest we have dinner, then do the games we were planning on doing."

"But—"

"You can read the diary after she goes to bed. It can wait, Shel."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So they do. They enjoy a relaxed dinner (or as relaxed as Shelby can let herself be), then play a few games. It's not long before Rachel is clearly tiring. She kisses both of their cheeks and heads upstairs. As usual, Shelby gives her a few minutes to get ready for bed then follows her upstairs. Rachel is already sitting on her bed in her pajamas. She's holding the diary. Shelby sits on the bed with her. Her daughter looks up at her for a moment before handing her the diary. Shelby takes it and immediately sets it on the nightstand without even looking at it. Her eyes remain on her child as she pulls her into a hug.

"I love you Rachel."

"I love you, too. I'm sorry. It's not that I…." She trails off, sounding frustrated or perhaps uncertain.

"Will I understand after I read this?"

"Yes. At least, I hope so."

"Okay. And Rach, no matter what, I'm here for you. With you. Goodnight, baby girl."

Rachel smiles at her. She grabs the diary and walks out. She's just outside the door when she hears a faint gasp. She hurries back into her daughter's room and holds her again. When it ends, Rachel smiles at her while also rolling her eyes. "You didn't need to do that for a mild, but thanks."

Shelby shakes her head. "You just don't get it, do you?" She taps Rachel's nose. "I want to be here for everything. Attacks. Hangnails. Celebrations. All of it."

"You're the best Mom ever."

Shelby chuckles and kisses her forehead. "Goodnight."

"Night."

Kelly is waiting in the hall. She looks between her and the diary. "You can come talk to me at any time tonight. You can wake me."

Shelby nods and says goodnight. She purposely takes her time preparing for bed, eyes continually drawn to the little book sitting innocently on her nightstand. She finally slides between her cool sheets, propped up by her stack of pillows, and opens the book. It is indeed a diary. One that Rachel clearly started after Hiram died.

Dear Diary,

I have a fantastic fantasy life. Yes, I stole the line from Chorus Line, but that doesn't matter. I dream that Daddy didn't die, obviously. More than that. I dream that Dad doesn't drink. It's a Friday afternoon. I told my friends (this is a fantasy, remember) that I couldn't go out with them. My mother comes over. My dads greet her happily with smiles and hugs. I come downstairs and she sweeps me into her arms and spins me around. My mother kisses my cheek and whispers how much she missed me, even though it hasn't been all that long. I hug my dads goodbye and go with my mom.

We sing show tunes while driving to her apartment, which is a penthouse and expertly designed. She uses it when she's visiting me, instead of her NYC home. I head to my room in her home and we cook dinner together. Afterwards, she—

It goes on. She wasn't kidding; she has a fantastic fantasy life. It saddens Shelby. She would have loved for Rachel's fantasy to be reality. It wasn't even too far fetched, either. If only. She flips a few more pages. The address makes her gasp.

Dear Mom,

I'll probably never meet the real you, so I figure this is the closest I'll get to talking to you. Hope you don't mind.

I love you.

I don't know you, but that's besides the point. I need to love you. I need you to love me. I need you. If I do ever meet you, I hope I'm enough for you.

I'm going to write the rest of my entries to you. The fictional you that will always keep my secrets. Dad can never know.

Shelby sighs, swiping at her eyes. She glances at the clock and is glad the next day is Sunday. She flips a few more pages.

Dear Mom,

Dad drinks a lot.

Xx

Dear Mom,

Dad hit me. It really hurt. It was really scary. I wish you were here. The real you, I mean.

Xx

Dear Mom,

I'm scared. Dad is away and I'm alone and there's a storm.

Xx

Dear Mom,

How do you know if a rib is broken?

Xx

Dear Mom,

I made a mistake. I miss Daddy and I was sad so I tried to crawl into bed with Dad. I just wanted him to hold me and comfort me. He shoved me off the bed and told me I couldn't possibly miss Daddy as much as he does. It was my mistake. I knew he'd been drinking. He'd have hugged me if he hadn't been. I think.

Xx

Dear Mom,

How do you hide bruises?

Xx

Dear Mom,

I'm tired of being alone. I just want a hug. Is that too much to ask for?

Xx

Dear Mom,

I won the spelling bee at school! But then I came home…..and I have no one to tell. No family. No friends. So I'm telling you. Are you proud of me? I like to imagine you would be.

Xx

Dear Mom,

Why does everyone leave? Is it me?

xx

Dear Mom,

I wish Daddy was here. At this point…..I wouldn't mind being with Daddy, wherever he is. At least then I wouldn't be alone.

Xx

Dear Mom,

At what point do you need stitches? Asking for a friend.

xx

Dear Mom,

My arm really hurts. I don't think it's broken, but it won't stop hurting. Dad says its fine and to just keep icing it. He says I'm being a baby.

Xx

Dear Mom,

Dad hasn't been home in a while. The house is cold and I don't know how to make it warmer. I'm so cold.

Xx

Dear Mom,

I just want to be held.

Xx

Mommy,

Where are you?

Shelby closes the journal with a soft snap. Her heart is wrapped in barbed wire and her tear ducts are working double time. She pads across the hall and into her daughter's room. Rachel is sound asleep, laying on her stomach. Shelby doesn't even hesitate. After what she read, she needs to be close to her baby. She slides into the bed and cuddles her child close.

"I'm right here, baby." She whispers softly. They'll talk tomorrow.

She falls asleep dreaming of beating the shit out of Leroy Berry. It puts a smile on her face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx