"Rachel," Quinn called the brunette's attention, noticing the faraway look in her eyes.
Not eliciting a response, she tried again.
"Rachel?"
Silence. The cheerleader huffed.
"Rachel!" Quinn stated, a little louder this time.
Blinking, Rachel finally turned her head and met irritated hazel eyes.
"Quinn. Do you think that there's something wrong with me?"
"What? No," Quinn replied easily and without hesitation. "But I do think that there's something wrong with Finn. Have you heard him talk about his grilled cheese? He's convinced that he's seen the face of God on his sandwich."
Rachel shot her a look of pure confusion. She had so many questions. Shaking her head, she walked into the empty elevator the moment the doors opened.
"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Quinn laughed in amusement. "He's calling it the Grilled Cheesus and allegedly, it's been answering his prayers."
"What floor is it again?" Rachel asked as her hand hovered over the buttons.
"Six," Quinn answered and glanced at her unusually quiet company. She's known Rachel for a few months now and the girl was anything but reserved. In fact, it was more normal for Quinn to be begging her to stop sharing her many unsolicited opinions. "Why were you asking me if I think that something's wrong with you?"
"Oh, nothing, never mind," Rachel said a little quickly, her eyes trained on the numbers lighting up with each floor they passed.
"Yeah right. Just tell me what's on your mind, Rachel."
Shifting nervously on her feet, Rachel exhaled a loaded sigh.
"My parents have been on my case about seeing a therapist," she admitted freely, diving in before she could change her mind. "As you know, my life has been somewhat chaotic recently. And as much as I believe that this will truly only help me become a better actress in the future; you know, since I'll have all these tragic life experiences to draw from, it's just been a lot for me to handle. My mom and dads think that I should talk to a professional about this, but I don't know, isn't that a bit much? Therapy?"
The elevator dinged the moment Rachel finished her sentence and stopped at their destination. They both walked out and Quinn paused trying to absorb what Rachel just said.
"I don't know?" She said honestly, observing Rachel's exhausted appearance. Almost annoyingly always put together, Rachel had been off during the past couple of weeks.
Since extending her offer to be a sounding board, this is the first time that Rachel has ever taken her up on it. Quinn had overheard her mom talking to Anne about something that happened with Rachel over Thanksgiving, but she didn't try to ask. It wasn't any of her business, and she hates it when people pry about things that don't concern them.
"I mean, wouldn't it be helpful for you to talk to someone who's not any of your parents? So you can say whatever you want without being afraid of like hurting their feelings or anything like that?"
"I suppose," Rachel said skeptically with a shrug of her shoulders.
Quinn raised a good point, but she was still unsure about it. She doesn't see how it can be helpful to her. She knows she just needs more time to adjust to everything and it felt like her parents didn't trust her anymore to handle this. Admittedly, she hasn't made the best decisions recently. But processing this independently and in her own way, at her own pace felt like the last bit of control she had over the situation. She was a little more than reluctant to relinquish that, especially to a stranger.
"I'm not going to tell you what to do," Quinn added a moment after not receiving any more elaboration. "But I honestly don't think that you needing to talk to someone about all of this means that there's something wrong with you. I just think that it means that you need some extra help learning how to deal. If it were me, I definitely would."
Rachel nodded thoughtfully and tried to listen for any judgment in Quinn's voice. Finding none, she smiled appreciatively at the advice.
"Thanks, Quinn. I'll think about it, but I don't really feel like talking about it anymore, so let's just go find Kurt?"
"Yeah," the blonde agreed, turning on her heel and leading them down the hallway. "I feel really bad for him. I hope he's okay."
"Me too. I feel awful about his dad. I hope he wakes up soon."
Earlier on in the week, Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury interrupted their French class and pulled Kurt aside to let him know that his father, Burt Hummel, had a heart attack. It's been a few days since then and Burt has yet to regain consciousness. The longer he stayed in coma, the more it affected Kurt. Everybody on the Glee Club were trying to be as supportive as possible, but Kurt seemed to grow angrier with each passing day and was more hesitant than ever to accept their help. However, they carried on and tried to be as understanding and supportive of their friend as possible. He was finally letting them visit, and Quinn and Rachel decided to take advantage of the opportunity.
The pair walked down the hallway quietly, both engrossed in their own thoughts. As they got closer, Santana, Brittany, and Kurt shuffled out of the room. He made eye contact with the two and waved at them politely before crossing his arms and turning his attention back to the two cheerleaders.
"We're really sorry about your dad's heart attack again," Santana said sincerely, in the gentlest tone that Kurt has ever heard her speak.
"Yeah," Brittany agreed. "Also, I did a report on heart attacks if you want to give it to the doctor. I got knocked down an entire letter grade cause it was written in crayon."
Brittany took out a stapled book made out of various colored construction paper from her binder and handed it to Kurt with a kind smile.
"Thanks, Brittany," Kurt forced himself to grin somewhat at the gesture.
"Anytime. In it, I write about how heart attacks are just from loving too much."
"Hey guys," Quinn greeted, cutting into the conversation as they joined the group. "How's it going, Kurt?"
"Just having the time of my life this week, Quinn."
An awkward silence immediately followed and Kurt felt bad instantly. He didn't mean to be short, but he was just so sick and tired of everyone asking him how he felt. His dad, his rock, his only parent left, was lying on a hospital bed showing no signs of waking up any time soon. How is he supposed to feel?
"We're sorry, Kurt," Rachel broke the silence a beat later. "We came to drop off your homework from the last couple of days. We just wanted to do something. Please don't push us away."
"Mercedes wanted to come, but she had church choir practice," Quinn added. "But she told me to bring you this and said to tell you that she's excited for you to go to church with her on Sunday."
Quinn pulled out a stylish fedora from her backpack and offered it to him. Kurt accepted the hat and examined it carefully. He brushed his fingers through the feathers and felt some of his anger drain.
"You're right. I'm sorry," Kurt apologized, shaking his head. "I shouldn't be pushing my friends away. Especially friends as fabulous as you guys."
He offered them a genuine smile this time and found himself wrapped up in a group hug in the middle of all of his friends. His heart warming, he soaked up their kindness and support for strength.
"Alright, that's enough affection," Santana said, pulling away first then looked directly at Rachel. "And just because we hugged this one time does not mean that we're friends now, Berry. So don't get any ideas."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Satan," Rachel replied curtly, rolling her eyes in exasperation at yet another one of the cheerleader's jabs.
"Are you guys heading out now?" Quinn diverted, attempting to change the subject.
"Yup," Santana answered. "Me and Britt are actually about to have dinner with Puck. He buys us dinner, we make out in front of him. It's like, the best deal ever."
Brittany grinned in agreement and Quinn shook her head at her best friends.
"Alright, well, let me walk you out cause I forgot I have to tell you what I overheard during Cheerios practice the other day," Quinn paused and looked at Rachel and Kurt. "Is that okay? I'll be right back."
After they said their goodbyes, Rachel and Kurt watched the three cheerleaders walk away in synchronized steps for a few seconds before Rachel snapped her attention back to her friend.
"Still no signs of him waking up?" She asked cautiously.
"Nope," Kurt sighed dejectedly as he slumped down in one of the chairs outside of his dad's hospital room. "Carole's in there with him right now. And I called an acupuncturist earlier. She's going to see if acupuncture will help improve the circulation to my dad's brain."
"That's a good idea," Rachel commented, taking the seat next to Kurt. "Um—I'm also praying for him. I know you asked us not to during Glee this week, and yeah, although technically I'm Jewish, sometimes I still don't really know what I believe in. But, I do believe in something and I'm still praying that he'll be okay."
"Thanks," Kurt said simply after the girl finished rambling. He has been struggling with Mr. Schue's spirituality lesson this week, but he also does appreciate the thoughts. He sank back further in his seat a moment later and felt an intense wave of exhaustion just hit him. And guilt. "Rachel?"
"Yeah, Kurt?"
"The last thing that my dad said to me was that he was disappointed in me," Kurt whispered brokenly, ignoring Rachel's half-confused glance. "Friday nights. We have dinner together as a family. It's tradition. They're sacred. And this week, Carole and Finn were supposed to join us but—"
"We had plans to go to the 'Sound of Music' Sing-A-Long," Rachel completed his sentence, putting the pieces together and nodding in understanding. "Oh Kurt, I don't think that your dad could ever be disappointed in you. I mean he must've been a little upset that you didn't place the same importance on the dinners as him, but still. You're a good son, Kurt. I know this because even though we haven't known each other for that long, I still know how important your dad is to you."
Rachel paused and snuck a peek at him, who was electing to stay silent. She can see the guilt eating him up inside and she understands that feeling all too well. She grabbed his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
"You know, I think you're really brave, Kurt," Rachel continued. "You've been through a lot. I see how Karofsky, Azimio, and those other guys treat you, but you still manage to hold your head high and show people that nothing is going to get to you, even when it does. That's courageous to me, and it makes me proud to be your friend. I'm sure if your dad were awake, he'd agree with me too."
"Thanks, Rachel," Kurt responded genuinely, sitting up straighter so he could make eye contact. At first, he didn't really know what Rachel was about. He thought that she was a bit too ambitious and self-absorbed, but he's slowly starting to realize that maybe he had her pegged wrong and that she's a lot more than that. "I'm glad we're friends."
"Me too," Rachel's face lit up. "And I don't know, someone told me recently that in the end, everything will be alright. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but eventually, and I think your dad will eventually be okay."
"I hope so. I just feel horrible that the last real conversation we had together was a fight. Then, of course, I spent the next couple of days after that acting like a total brat. I feel so stupid for being so angry about something so insignificant. He's the only family I have left, Rachel. I hate fighting with him. It doesn't make me feel good at all, you know? "
"Yeah," Rachel whispered, guilt creeping up and settling heavily on her stomach as she thought about her current reality with her mother. "I do know."
What was she doing? It's been another week since Rachel spent the night taking care of her mom while she was sick, two weeks since Thanksgiving, and things still haven't gone back to normal. They were still skirting around each other, unwilling to make the first move. Granted, the ball was in Rachel's court since she was the one who asked for space, but she felt stuck now and she didn't know how to change or end the stupid chicken game they were both playing.
To make matters worse, they had their first honest-to-God, all-out fight while Rachel was over for dinner a couple nights ago. She's been going through the full spectrum of emotions over the situation with her mother and lately anger and frustration have been rising to the top and bubbling over into her actions. She can't even remember now what instigated their disagreement, but the only thing ingrained into her memory was the perfect mixture of disappointment and hurt spelled across her mother's face. It was the first time that her mom had ever raised her voice at her, and she knew she deserved it. Rachel felt like she was having an out-of-body experience watching an unrecognizable spiteful and bitter version of herself snapping at Shelby for no good reason other than from perhaps trying to get a rise out of her, politeness be damned.
And nothing, nothing that has happened in the past couple of months has made her feel as bad as watching her mom walk away from her in the heat of their argument and shutting the door to her study without looking back.
Shelby eventually came out an hour later after they had both cooled off. She was even the one who apologized to her first for walking away. It blew Rachel's mind. She wanted to surrender right then and there and throw herself into her mother's arms and finally allow herself to be comforted; instead, she found herself mumbling a lame apology and refusing to make eye contact. She felt awful. Even worse, Shelby just let it all go and went back to being calm and collected.
And here Rachel was, not even sure why she was punishing her mom anymore. It was an incredibly lousy thing to do especially considering the possibility that Kurt may not even get a chance to speak to his dad again. All she's ever wanted was her mom and now that she finally has her, it seems like all that she's interested in doing is pushing her away. And for what?
Her heart beating profoundly in her chest at the sudden realization, Rachel stood up abruptly and Kurt stared at her with confusion.
"Rachel?" His brows knitting at how unsettled she look.
Before she could respond, the door flung open and Carole practically sprinted out into the hallway, her eyes wild as she turned around to face the two teenagers.
"Carole?" Kurt asked in alarm, his stomach dropping as he rose to his feet.
"Kurt! Your dad, he—he squeezed my hand. I think he might be waking up," Carole stammered, tears welling up in her tired eyes.
Kurt let out a breath that's been tortuously trapped in his chest for days. His eyes watering, he looked at Carole first then at Rachel unsure of what to do next.
"Nurse Nancy!" He yelled for help.
Seemingly frozen in place, Rachel watched Kurt and Carole charge into the hospital room while a blur of blue scrubs followed them inside.
For Rachel, every sound faded away it was as if she was watching it all unfold in slow motion. Bodies crowded around the hospital bed. A doctor hustled into the room. The blood pounded in her ears. Her heart thumped in her chest.
She blinked and suddenly she saw Shelby in the hospital bed instead of Burt. All the air rushed out of her lungs. She blinked again and she was gone.
A second later, a hand on her arm yanked her back to reality. The silence snapped and the air around her continued moving again. She turned around and met Quinn's puzzled expression. She sucked in a sharp breath and felt all senses return to her body.
"Hey, what's up, are you okay?"
Rachel whipped her head back to the room and watched Kurt carefully attend to his father who was slowly starting to grow more conscious.
"Um—Mr. Hummel woke up."
"Really? That's great!" Quinn remarked excitedly, craning her neck over Rachel's shoulder to peer through the window. She paused once she realized she didn't receive the same amount of animation from the brunette.
"What's going on with you?"
"I don't know, I think I have to go though," Rachel said distractedly. "I have to see my mom."
"What? Right now? We just got here."
"I know sorry, but I have to," Rachel decided as she grabbed her coat off the chair. "I'm going to call my dad to come get me. Please tell Kurt I'm sorry for leaving so soon."
Offering no other explanation, Rachel walked away and forced her feet to move down the hall as quickly as she could without breaking out into a run. Making a dash for the elevator, she pressed the button frantically.
When the doors opened, Rachel stepped in, still immensely lost in her thoughts. With her eyes remained focused on her feet, she was completely oblivious to her surroundings.
"We'll just continue to monitor it, dad," Kim said, carrying on a serious conversation with her father. "It's good that you came in. Let's just not ring the alarms yet—"
"Rachel?" Robert interrupted Kim as he turned his attention to the young girl who had just walked in and turned her back to them. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she spun around in shock to face two equally surprised adults.
"Grandpa? Aunt Kim? Wh-what are you guys doing here?"
Both Kim and Robert froze and shared a brief imperceptible look that Rachel seemed to miss.
"We—"
"Your grandpa came to visit me," Kim interjected. "Hi Rae, what's going on? What are you doing here?" The woman inquired as she pulled her niece in for a quick hug.
Before she could answer, the elevator arrived on the ground floor and the three shuffled out to congregate in the lobby.
"I came to visit my friend Kurt. His dad is here because he had a heart attack a few days ago," Rachel replied, examining the pair curiously.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Robert said emphatically. "Is he alright now?"
"Does your mom know you're here?" Kim questioned.
"Yeah, I think he'll be okay. And dad knows I'm here, but I um—I was actually leaving to go see mom now," Rachel admitted. "Actually, grandpa, are you leaving? Do you think you can drive me to Carmel?"
"I think Shelly's in rehearsal right now Rae," Kim responded.
"Oh, I know, but—"
"Of course I'll take you sweetheart," Robert answered, flashing Kim a look of disapproval. He can see that there was something weighing on the girl and he was not going to deny her the chance to see her mother if that's what she wanted. He also knew that it was past due for the mother and daughter to begin to work through some of their recent issues, and he was going to help facilitate that in any way that he can. "Let's go take you to your mom.
At Carmel, Shelby watched her team rehearse their Lady Gaga number intently, scrutinizing every minute detail on the quest for perfection. With rapt attention, she narrowed her eyes critically, searching for any mistakes that needed to be corrected as her team danced almost flawlessly to the electro-pop beats filling the grand auditorium.
Satisfied for now, she decided to give them a rare break after realizing that they were on their sixth consecutive run-through.
"Yeah that's better guys, take five," Shelby instructed into the microphone from her position at the director's table. "And ladies, I don't want to hear about chafing just because you're being forced to wear metal underwear. Not my problem."
With a sigh, she pushed the mic away and picked up her pen to write down the mental notes she made earlier. Truth be told, she also needed a break. They were on day five of their two-a-day rehearsals that she mandated since she lost so much practice time while she was out of commission with the flu. It was taxing for her and her students, but it needed to be done to get them back on track. Consistency won championships.
And if Shelby were being really honest, she was also falling on old patterns and employing her motto of 'When the going gets tough, the tough call extra Vocal Adrenaline practices.' She was in desperate need of a distraction from the current strife with her daughter.
"Mom?" Rachel's voice called her attention, effectively jarring her from her thoughts.
Shelby turned her head to the left to find her teenager standing in the aisle a few feet away, wringing her hands apprehensively.
"Honey, you've got to stop sneaking into these rehearsals," she said before she could stop herself. It's not what she meant to say, but she was in no mood to deal with an insolent Rachel today.
Things between them have been strenuous at the best and it was slowly wearing her down. She was doing everything in her power to be patient and understanding with Rachel, but it's been weeks and her daughter was still demonstrating no interest whatsoever in making amends, even acting contemptuous at times. The situation was becoming unbearable and her kid's constant stream of rejections have been crushing her heart into pieces with each passing day.
"It's kind of important," Rachel replied with a quiver in her voice. "I-I really need you right now."
Rachel looked down at the floor and then directly at Shelby with pleading brown eyes. Taking in the distress evident across her daughter's face, Shelby sighed and nodded. She still had an hour left of rehearsal, but her daughter comes first. No matter what.
"Okay, Rachel. Let me just release my kids and then I will meet you in my office," she instructed while she grabbed her keys and extended her arm out to hand it to the girl. Rachel walked over timidly and accepted them, holding on to the woman's hand a little longer than planned.
Shelby raised an eyebrow slightly at the action. Rachel hasn't let her touch her in days. It's been killing her, but the girl had asked for space. Shaking it off as a fluke, she straightened up and cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"Go ahead and wait for me. I will be with you in a few minutes," she urged in a tone more firm than she had intended. She can't help it. Ever since they fought the other day, her walls have been up. She was frustrated and she hated that she felt like she had to protect herself, from her own daughter of all people.
Before she could correct herself, Rachel didn't say another word and turned sharply on her heel to follow her orders. Shelby mentally berated herself watching her child walk down the aisle despondently. Fighting against the unbidden tears prickling the corner of her eyes, she got up a moment later to end rehearsal so she can get back to her daughter. She was going to fix things between them come hell or high water.
Fifteen minutes later, Shelby walked down the hall with a purposeful stride, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Feeling a burst of anxiety all of a sudden, she paused outside of her office door and rested her hand against the cool wall as she gained her bearings.
After drawing in a long and slow deep breath, she twisted the doorknob and entered the room to the sight of her daughter hunched over in a chair, her face buried in her hands.
Rachel raised her head slightly but dropped her gaze immediately. She was nervous to say the least. She doesn't know if she's dealing with her mom or Coach Corcoran at the moment.
Saying nothing, Shelby set her things down and walked over to stand in front of the distraught teenager. Crossing her arms and leaning against the edge of her desk, she took another second to center herself before plunging in.
"What's the matter, Rachel?"
Rachel fidgeted nervously under Shelby's inquisitive gaze. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but struggled with what to say. Waves of guilt have been crashing down on her and remorse over how she's handled everything recently has been gnawing at her insides since she left the hospital. And what bothered her the most was how cold and detached her mother was being, which was a far cry from the doting, caring, and affectionate woman that she's come to love. It occurred to her then that this must be how her mom has been feeling about how she's been acting.
Shelby saw the panic begin to take over the young girl's face and she immediately felt all of her defenses fall. Sighing, she softened her entire stance.
"Come here, baby," Shelby urged gently, opening her arms up to her daughter.
In an instant, Rachel launched herself at her mother, slamming into Shelby with a force that belied her small size. She hugged Shelby so hard that she knocked the breath out her, but she couldn't bring herself to notice as she buried her face against the woman's chest. Shutting her eyes tightly to keep herself from crying, she grabbed fistfuls of Shelby's sweater with a strong grip as she absorbed the comfort and security of finally being in her mother's arms.
"Hey, it's okay," Shelby said quietly, rubbing random patterns soothingly on Rachel's back. "You're okay, baby."
"I'm—I'm still your baby?" Rachel whispered a moment later, her voice muffled against the wool of her mother's shirt.
Shelby pulled her head back so she can look Rachel in the eyes.
"Then, now, and always," she promised wholeheartedly. "Even when you're forty and you have your own children, Rachel. You'll always be my baby."
"I'm so sorry mom," Rachel mumbled, dropping her head as the shame of how she's been acting slowly started to overcome her.
The mother sighed and took both of her daughter's hands and held onto to them.
"What did you say, Rach?"
Shelby had heard Rachel's apology, but her daughter needed to learn how to apologize properly. She needed her to know that her actions, intentional or not, affect others.
The teenager shifted anxiously on her feet and Shelby squeezed her hands in encouragement.
"I said that I'm sorry," Rachel cleared her throat and finally brought her eyes up to look at her mother sincerely. "I'm sorry for how I've been treating you, mom."
"Why were you doing it, Rachel?" She questioned. Shelby decided earlier that she was no longer going to be polite when it came to these conversations with her daughter. Toeing around the issue was no longer working. She needed her kid to open up to her if they had any chance of surviving this.
Rachel's stomach dropped and her heart thudded in her chest at her mother's prompting. Usually, she would've accepted her apology and moved on. She looked down again and chewed on her bottom lip nervously trying to gather her thoughts. She let go of her mother's hands and met her gaze again a few seconds later.
"B-because I'm still confused," Rachel stammered while she took a step back away from Shelby. She didn't do it on purpose. Putting the space between them was a subconscious defense mechanism. "And hurt and mad at you.. for just giving me up. And not wanting to be with me all these years."
Shelby felt her throat choke up. She forced herself to breathe and gathered all the strength she could find deep inside of her not to cry. How was she supposed to convince her daughter that she didn't stay away from her because she wanted to?
"Rachel—"
"I know it's dumb, mom. I know I sound selfish and ungrateful because dad and daddy are amazing and they gave me everything. And here I was still feeling like something was missing. But I needed a mom. I needed you," Rachel confessed, sharing her true feelings once she realized that she had nothing left to lose. This was Shelby, her mother. If anyone was going to fix this, it was going to be her. "I don't know. But now that I have you, I don't even know how to feel. I'm happy and sad, but also I'm mostly mad at myself because I feel like I'm just messing everything up. I'm being a bad daughter. I'm sorry. I keep pushing you away and I don't even know why. I don't know what I'm doing."
Shelby watched her daughter spill her heart out and increase the distance between them with every word. Her chest tightened as she took in Rachel's disheartening admission. She inhaled another calming breath and pushed aside the swirling range of emotions that she felt building up.
Thinking quickly, she rose to her feet and walked around her desk. She bent down slightly to search for something in her drawer then pulled out a wooden keepsake box a few seconds later. She made her way back to the front of her desk and perched herself back on the edge of mahogany surface.
"Can you please take a seat, Rach?"
Rachel hesitated and narrowed her eyes at her mom suspiciously. Sighing, she slumped back down on the designated spot and realized just how exhausted she felt.
"Mom?"
"Did you know that your dads sent me a letter every year, always around your birthday, to update me on you, on how you were doing, on what you were up to?"
Rachel nodded her head in confirmation. Her dads mentioned it when they first brought up that Shelby was her mom, which felt like it was yesterday and a million years ago at the same time.
"And they also sent pictures of you," Shelby added, reaching slightly behind her and turning around a framed photo of Rachel at age six. Rachel leaned over and grabbed the picture of the younger version of herself clad in ballet flats and a pink tutu beaming her signature megawatt smile, which was more like a toothless grin since she was in the middle of losing all her baby teeth at the time.
"That was the first dance competition I won," Rachel recalled the memory fondly.
"I know, baby," Shelby said, her voice soft. "I wish I could've been there."
"Me too," Rachel whispered, grazing her thumb over the frame. She's been in her mom's office maybe a handful of times now and this was the first she was seeing this photo. She glanced at the shelf to her periphery and also noticed her seventh grade school picture propped up next to photos of her cousins.
Rachel swallowed hard and placed the photo back on the desk carefully, refusing to make eye contact with Shelby.
"I wrote you back, Rach," Shelby explained once the teenager relaxed back into her seat. "Every year, I wrote you back a letter to tell you what I was doing, what I was up to. I think my plan was to give it to you when you turned 18, so you'd also know what I was doing the entire time we were apart. I don't know, it sounds kind of silly now, but there are 13 letters in here. I didn't get one from your dads last year, but I wrote one regardless. And obviously, they didn't send one this year, but I started writing one anyway. That's what I was doing in my study after our fight."
Her heart pounding, she handed the wooden box over to her daughter reluctantly. She wasn't planning to do this. At first, the letters were meant to be for Rachel, but with each passing year, the tradition became more for her. It was an annual ritual that allowed her to work through some of the guilt and regret that has plagued her every time she thought about the surrogacy and walking away from her baby. It was painful but simultaneously cathartic for her and helped her cope with some of those difficult feelings.
"I want to give this to you," Shelby said with a determined nod. "You don't have to read it now. You don't have to read it ever. You can do whatever you want with these letters Rach, but I do want you to look at what I started writing the other day."
Rachel hesitantly accepted the box from her mother. She unlatched it and opened it slowly, taking out the first envelope marked with this year's date. Before she opened it, she looked up at Shelby who gave her an encouraging nod. She carefully slipped her finger under the tucked flap and pulled out the letter from inside of it.
"Dear Rachel,
We're finally together again, baby. And you're everything that I had hoped you'd be and more. You are beautiful, strong, kind, and intelligent. You're truly incredible and getting to know you and being your mom is even better than I could have ever imagined. I never realized how much I would love being a mother, and I know I only love it so much more because I get to be your mom. But to be honest with you, I'm afraid. I'm scared that I'm messing everything up between us. I'm scared that I'm making all of the wrong decisions. I'm scared that I'm pushing you away. I'm scared that I'm being a bad mother. And I'm terrified more than anything that I'm not the mom that you deserve. I'm sorry, Rachel. I don't know what I'm doing."
Brows furrowing, Rachel scanned the rest of the paper for more but that's where the letter ended. Her hands shaking, she looked up at her mom for an explanation, confusion written all over her face.
Rachel's breath hitched in her throat as more of what her mother wrote settled on her mind. She felt paralyzed and she didn't even realize she was crying until the unexpected tears landed on her hand still gripping the letter. Watching her teardrops smudge the ink, something inside of her snapped and days of repressed emotions suddenly came crashing down on her.
Seeing her daughter's face crumple in on itself, Shelby stood up on her heels and pried the letter away from her hands. Jumping into action, she placed the box back on desk and held Rachel's hand to lead her to the couch along the wall. Sitting down gracefully, she patted her lap and started to pull her daughter down to join her.
Still crying, Rachel shook her head in protest and remained firmly on her feet.
"No mom, I can't. I'm too old to sit on your lap."
"I'm not asking, baby," Shelby replied sternly as she tugged on Rachel's arm. In one smooth move, she had her daughter on her lap and her arms wrapped tightly around her, knowing that they both needed this.
As Rachel settled in her mom's warm embrace, the tears fell harder and quicker. It was as if her entire heart, body, and soul was just waiting to find a safe place to fall apart.
"I'm so sorry, mom," Rachel sobbed from her position tucked up against Shelby's chest.
"It's okay, baby, it's okay," Shelby soothed. She held on tighter and wished more than anything that she can take away all the hurt that Rachel felt. She was so tired of seeing her daughter cry. She hated it more than anything else.
Once Rachel's sobs began to subside, Shelby shifted her carefully so she can see her better. She wiped away the tears and stray hair from her child's face tenderly and looked over her with concern.
"Can we talk again, Rach?" Shelby asked as she stroked her daughter's long brown hair.
"Yeah, sorry," the girl sniffled loudly and without warning, wiped her nose on her mother's shoulder. Shelby grimaced in response and shook her head as she thought of her brand new and white cashmere sweater before quickly dismissing it. Rachel and her feelings were way more valuable than a stupid sweater.
"I didn't show you that letter to make you feel bad, Rach," Shelby said honestly. "I wanted you to read it because I want you to know that just like you, I also don't know how to feel. I also don't know what I'm doing. And that I'm also scared that I'm messing everything up. I need you to know that you're not alone and that this is just as overwhelming and confusing for me as it is for you."
Shelby paused and waited for Rachel to take in what she said. Once she received a slight nod, she continued.
"Like I told you before, I think the only way we can get through this is if we're honest with one another. And if we start cutting each other some slack, Rach."
Shelby hooked a finger under her daughter's chin and raised it gently so she can make eye contact. She needed her to hear this part.
"Me and you kid? We're not perfect," Shelby said, giving her a small smile. "Far from it. And chances are, my love, is that we are going to continue to mess up. And that's okay, Rachel. It is. I'm learning how to be a mom and you're learning how to have a mom. That's a lot and it's hard, so it's okay for us to stumble, it's okay for us to fight, it's okay to be upset with each other sometimes, and it's okay for us not to know what to do. But what is absolutely not okay is when we start shutting each other out, when we start pushing each other away, and when we start giving up. None of that is okay, Rachel. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I do," Rachel confirmed. Everything her mom had said was right. She hasn't been fair and she knew that she needed to be more considerate and forgiving, or she at least had to try. Being angry for the sake of being angry wasn't going to get them anywhere. "I'm sorry, mom. I really am."
"I know baby, I am too," Shelby apologized earnestly, pressing a kiss on top of brown locks. "We'll be okay, Rachel. You're not a bad daughter and I'm not a bad mother. We're just struggling, kid. But we'll figure it out. I know we will. We just have to support one another. And ask for help when we need it. Have you—have you thought any more about seeing a therapist, Rach?"
Shelby felt Rachel's entire body tense up immediately at the question. She wrapped her arms around her again in an effort to keep her grounded emotionally and physically. They needed to have this discussion.
"I don't know," Rachel replied, burrowing her face in Shelby's shoulder. She's still not prepared to talk about this.
"Why not, baby?" Shelby coaxed, not willing to relent yet.
"Because mom, I just don't want to feel like there's something wrong with me," Rachel stated. She sighed dramatically and maneuvered herself out of her mother's arms a second later. Acting purely on instinct again, Rachel got up and started to walk away. Shelby's reflexes were milliseconds faster and grabbed the teenager's arm before she could take another step.
"Sit back down right now, Rachel Barbara," Shelby demanded. Her daughter needed to learn how to stop running away from difficult conversations. Taking in Shelby's firm countenance, Rachel slumped her shoulders and plopped back down next to her in defeat.
Glancing at her stubborn child, Shelby paused for a moment to strategize.
"Where were you earlier, Rach?" Shelby asked, already knowing the answer from Kim's earlier text.
"At the hospital to visit Kurt and his dad. Mr. Hummel had a heart attack earlier this week, remember?"
"Yes," Shelby nodded seriously. "How is his dad doing?"
"I think he's going to be okay. He woke up from his coma while I was there."
Rachel absentmindedly grabbed Shelby's arm and started playing with the sleeve of her mother's sweater, caressing the ultra-soft fabric. A moment later, Shelby felt Rachel lean towards her. Picking up her daughter's cues, she threw her arm around her shoulder protectively, smiling when her little girl scooted even closer.
"That's good, baby. I'm glad to hear that he'll be alright."
"Me too. I think Kurt was really scared."
"I'm sure," Shelby sympathized. "But his dad is in good hands now with his recovery. He's at a good hospital with good doctors. They took great care of your grandpa there when he was sick."
"Is grandpa okay now?" Rachel questioned, her mind wandering to her run-in with him and her Aunt Kim earlier. She debated briefly about bringing it up but cast it off, it seemed unimportant.
"Yes, he's doing well," Shelby assured. "He still has to take some medicine consistently, eat well, exercise, and manage his stress. He goes to his doctors regularly. And... he also sees a therapist sometimes."
Rachel stopped her fidgeting with her mom's hand and raised her head up, curious brown eyes meeting thoughtful green ones.
"Grandpa does? Really?"
"Yes, really," Shelby proceeded cautiously. "He used to talk to someone regularly. He had a tough battle with the cancer, and he was a warrior through it. But your grandpa—he had a hard time afterwards dealing with life after the fact. It was difficult for him for a while, and eventually we encouraged him to get counseling. I think he found it helpful."
"Oh," the girl whispered while she distractedly ran her fingers along the older woman's arm.
"Do you think that there's something wrong with your grandpa?"
"What? No," Rachel responded quickly with a shake of her head. She frowned suddenly once she started following her mother's logic. "But it's different mom, he was actually sick and he was actually going through stuff. I'm not. I don't know, mom. It just seems kind of embarrassing to me."
"Baby," Shelby paused, gently turning Rachel's head so they were face to face. "People go to psychologists or psychiatrists for the same reason that they go to other doctors—to get better. Taking care of your mental health is just as important as taking care of your physical health. There's nothing wrong with doing both."
"I guess, but I wouldn't even know what to say," Rachel admitted. "Why can't I just talk to you about this?"
"You can, Rach," she assured. "You absolutely can. But I just wonder if it would be helpful for you to have someone to talk to besides me. I may not always know how to help you with your problems or maybe sometimes your problem is with me?"
Rachel sighed and Shelby half-expected her to get up and walk away again. Instead, her daughter curled up closer and rested her head on her shoulder. She waited for a response that never came before deciding to continue.
"And I absolutely do not think that there is anything wrong with you, Rach. I just think that you've been through a lot this past year. Your dads getting divorced, moving, meeting me, and your daddy is leaving soon—those are some really big changes. Overwhelming ones. Me and your dads, baby, we're not encouraging therapy to fix you. You're not broken. We just think that you might benefit from a time and a judgment-free place to discuss everything that you're worrying about or feeling with someone who can help teach you how to navigate through the muddle of emotions I know you're probably experiencing."
Frowning again at being read like a book, Rachel chose to remain silent, still attempting to organize her thoughts.
"I also know you're hurting, Rachel," Shelby added with a heavy heart. "And I love you far too much to allow this pain you are feeling to continue without help."
"How long will I have to go?" Rachel asked curiously. She sat up and tried to move but her mom kept her firmly in position and squeezed her shoulders encouragingly to stay.
"If you're putting in the effort, then as long as you think you need it," Shelby negotiated. "We don't want to force you to do this if this isn't what you really want to do, Rach. We want you to have as much say in this process as possible. This is for you after all."
"What if it doesn't work, mom?" Rachel wondered. The last thing she wants is for this to be another thing for her to fail at.
"We just have to try, baby," Shelby replied. "Think of it this way Rach—even the best on Broadway need vocal coaches to learn new skills, strategies, and musical styles and to help them think about all the different ways they can improve. Therapy is like working with a coach. You can learn skills on how to process everything that you're going through and practice them over and over again until eventually you don't need a coach anymore. Does that make sense?"
"Yes I guess it does," Rachel nodded honestly, slowly warming up to the idea. She was only hesitant about it because she felt like she was being punished. But now that her mom was explaining how it worked and what to expect, it was becoming easier for her to swallow. "I-I think I'll try it."
"Yeah?" Shelby turned sideways to look her kid in the eyes. "I think that's a good decision, Rach. I'm proud of you."
"You are?" The girl tilted her head in confusion.
"Yes, I am," Shelby leaned over and delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. "We're not asking you to do this because we think you're weak, Rachel. In fact, I think this is going to take a lot of courage, and so I am proud of you for willing to try."
Rachel's lips quirked into a smile and Shelby automatically felt some of the tension ease out of her body. She knew that encouraging her daughter to be open to receiving help was just half the battle, but she also knew that she was prepared to help her through the entire war. More than ever, she was ready to fight for them to learn how to adjust and accept one another in their new lives. But for now, she was content that they were getting back on track.
She relaxed back into the couch and patted Rachel's knee comfortingly.
"Feeling better, honey?"
"Mhmm," Rachel copied her mom's position and melted back into her arms. "Do you feel better?"
"Much better," the mother answered truthfully, feeling like a two-ton weight has just been lifted off of her shoulders. "And since my rehearsal is over, what do you want to do the rest of the night, Rach?"
"Can we go home?"
"Your dad's or mine?" Shelby asked for more elaboration.
"Ours?" Rachel replied without too much thought. "Our home."
Her heart bursting at the new development, Shelby intertwined her fingers with her daughter's and held on with a renewed purpose, a promise to never let go no matter what else came their way.
A/N: Anybody else relieved that Shelby and Rachel finally made up? An extremely important part about writing this story for me is trying to make it as realistic and relatable as possible, and that often means including all of the good and the bad, the ups and the downs as S/R navigate this new and equally exciting and complicated relationship, so thank you all again for joining me on this rollercoaster ride!
Next chapter is Rachel's 14th birthday!