Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 7)
I remember when, I remember
I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place
Even your emotions have an echo in so much space…
And when you're out there without care
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough,
I just knew too much…
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly…
And I hope that you are
Having the time of your life
But think twice
That's my only advice…
Come on now, who do you
Who do you, who do you think you are?
Ha Ha Ha, bless your soul
You really think you're in control?
Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me….
(Crazy ~ Gnarls Barkley)
Saturday, August 13, 2022
6:58 AM
Brittany woke up Saturday morning to the sound of retching coming from somewhere nearby. The sun was not even bright enough yet to light the small West Village apartment, so when she opened her eyes all the way, what caught her attention was the narrow strip of bright, artificial light showing at the bottom of the bathroom door.
Even in her barely-awake haze, Brittany knew the sound she heard was Santana suffering another bout of morning sickness. Santana's nausea had become so unpredictable at this point in her first trimester, particularly during the night, that she had taken to sleeping on the outer portion of their bed even though she was usually already asleep when Brittany came in from the show each night.
It did feel a bit weird to the blonde dancer to sleep on the opposite side than she was accustomed, but her new routine over the last two weeks was simply to come in, wash up and brush her teeth as quietly as possible, pee, and then crawl gently over Santana, sliding up under the covers and kissing the Latina lightly on the cheek before wrapping her left arm around her and instantly succumbing to exhaustion.
Brittany sat up and yawned, looking over at the clock to see the time. She slid to the edge of the double bed and padded across the wood floor in her bare feet then knocked softly on the closed door.
"You okay, honey?" she asked.
"Yeah," Santana answered weakly.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
Brittany turned the knob and slowly opened the door to the small space, not knowing exactly where her wife was located. The door creaked as it typically did while opening, and Brittany pushed it all the way opened, narrowly missing Santana who was leaned back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms folded over the top of them with her head resting.
"Can I get you anything? Water?" Brittany asked sweetly.
"A bullet to the head?" Santana retorted without raising up, her voice echoing between her legs, "Please? Just make it quick and painless."
Brittany choked back a giggle at her wife's dramatic side, picking up a plastic cup from the back portion of the stand-alone sink, rinsing it first before filling it with cold water from the faucet, and kneeling next to Santana.
"Let's try some cold water first?" Brittany handed the brunette the cup, caressing the back of her head to encourage her to lift it and take a sip, "If this fails then we'll consider more drastic measures."
Santana lifted her throbbing head and let a sip of the cool water ease down the back of her burning throat. She'd thrown up so many times in the last few days that the muscles along her sides ached. She took another sip, careful not to drink too much, hoping to thwart inevitable disaster.
The brunette handed the cup back to her wife and gave her a small pout, announcing, "Being pregnant sucks."
Brittany couldn't help but laugh, sitting flat to the floor and pulling Santana over onto her, "I'm sorry, honey…I would totally take on this part for you if I could."
"I would totally let you if I could," Santana quipped, moaning slightly into Brittany's lap, "At least part of it anyway."
"I know, sweetie," Brittany leaned down, moving aside some of Santana's long hair and kissing her cheekbone, "Just know that I appreciate every horrible moment you suffer through to carry our baby."
"It's all worth it…I just wish we could fast forward through this part," Santana lamented.
"Just two more weeks until you're out of the first trimester…," the blonde encouraged, "…and remember that Quinn said it starts getting better."
"Slowly getting better is what she said," Santana remembered every detail of Quinn's statement, down to the inflection in her voice and the grimace on her face.
"You can do this. You've been through tougher things than this," Brittany recalled before she really thought about her statement.
There was a notable pause from Santana before Brittany heard her respond, "Yeah."
"Hey," Brittany lifted Santana back to an upright position, looking into her brown eyes, "All I meant was…you have proven again and again how truly strong you are. Right?"
Santana nodded.
"Right?" the blonde pushed, smiling reassuringly at her wife.
"Right," Santana agreed, forcing a smile.
"Ok then…do you feel like you can come back to bed?" Brittany asked.
"I think so," the Latina noted that the water had stayed down and her stomach felt calm at the moment.
Brittany stood then reached out her arm to pull Santana to a standing position, "Good."
The couple made their way back over to their bed where Brittany crawled across the mattress and patted the empty space to her right, waiting for Santana to get comfortable on her side before Brittany spooned up behind her and wrapped her arms tightly around her as they both fell back to sleep.
3:10 PM
Santana was glad she and Brittany were both able to fall back asleep and rest for a couple of more hours until the alarm went off at nine thirty. Once Brittany got showered and left for the matinee performance, Santana decided she felt decent enough to get dressed and leave the apartment for a few simple errands.
She dropped off a few things at the dry cleaners around the corner before walking up Bleeker to the nearby CVS pharmacy where she picked up her prescription for the iron supplement Dr. Yates wanted her to start to help with her anemia.
Santana was less than enthused about adding another pill to her regiment. She already hated taking her pre-natal vitamin because not only was it huge and hard to swallow but it also had the nasty side-effect of tasting like burnt popcorn every time she belched…which was a lot recently…so she also grabbed another large bottle of fruit flavored antacid tablets and a box of saltines.
After she got the battery in her favorite watch replaced at the jewelry shop, she rounded the corner and noticed something she had failed to notice the last few weeks…a pleasant smell. It smelled like fresh bread baking, and she looked across the side street toward a popular neighborhood bakery. Mmm, fresh bread, she thought…that actually sounds good.
The dark-haired beauty looked to her left to assure there was no car coming then crossed the street and walked a portion of the block up to the bakery's entry. The woman she knew as one of the co-owners was at the shop's big picture window, setting some of the hot loaves in the front display. The woman smiled at her and motioned her in, and as Santana entered, a little gold bell rang at the top of the door.
"Hello," the shop owner said pleasantly in her thick French accent.
"Hi," Santana smiled at her, looking at the lit case of French pastries, "They all look so good."
"I just put out fresh baguettes…," the woman told her, wiping her hands on a thick white cloth, "…and I have a batch of croissants coming out of the oven in four minutes."
"Ok, I'll take one when they're ready," Santana replied excitedly, "And will you slice a baguette for me to take home?"
"Certainly," the older French woman said as she pulled a light brown loaf from a wicker basket and moved toward the back counter to send it through the silver slicer, telling Santana, "Let me check on those croissants."
The Latina was bent over looking at the Napoleons, contemplating whether her stomach could handle something sweet, when she heard the bell on the door ring again as it opened. The ringing was followed shortly by the statement, "Ohh, it smells soooo good in here."
Another voice replied, "Wait until you try their chocolate croissants."
Santana took that as her cue to move out from in front of the display counter for the other patrons to see what was available. As she straightened up, she looked back over her left shoulder and smiled at the two girls who had their arms linked, smiling sweetly at each other.
When the one standing nearest her turned her head, Santana's face froze, her eyes locking with the familiar blue eyes of Cate Boyd.
Neither of them said a word, but time screeched to a halt inside the small bakery until Cate broke eye contact and looked at the younger girl with her, handing her some cash she pulled from her jeans pocket, "Sweetie, do you want to get us some coffee from Starbucks?"
The girl seemed a bit confused, but agreed good-naturedly while taking the cash, "Sure…meet you out front?"
"Be down there in a few minutes," Cate smiled as she watched her go then turned back around after the door closed and looked at Santana.
"How are you?" Santana asked hesitantly.
Cate took a deep breath before speaking emphatically, "Good…yourself?"
"Good, thanks," the younger brunette replied, inquiring further, "Are you here visiting?"
Cate shook her head, "No, I've lived in the City for a couple of years."
"Oh? Around here?" Santana's surprise showed.
"Well, I'm new to the West Village…I just moved in with Jess a few weeks ago."
"Britt and I live on the next street over," she told the older girl.
"I'm glad to hear you two are still together," Cate smiled sincerely.
The shop owner returned from the kitchen with a tray of the hot croissants, sliding them into place in the display case then taking one and putting it into a brown bag. As she moved to collect the sliced baguette for Santana, putting it in a clear, plastic bag, the Latina turned back toward her old friend and stated, "I'm sorry this is so awkward. I'm really glad to run into you though, because I've thought a lot about you over the years."
Cate nodded, "It's okay…it's probably my fault. I'm glad to see you are well, Santana. You haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you," Santana assured her, noting that Cate's hair was shorter but otherwise she looked basically the same.
"Thanks," Cate said then looked back over at the bakery owner.
Santana paid for her bread and waited for Cate to tell the woman what she wanted before she said, "Aren't you even curious as to how she's doing?"
Cate looked down after handing the woman some cash. Santana could tell the older brunette was pondering the appropriate response before she finally said firmly, "No."
Santana's heart dropped for Quinn, knowing how desperately her best friend wanted to reconnect with her lost love.
"Take care, Cate," Santana told the older girl as she walked past her and out the bakery door.
Cate Boyd's mind flashed back to several years earlier and to memories of a beautiful, young blonde with green eyes, whom she loved more than anyone else in the world. Those memories shook her entire body, because even though they were repressed, they were never very far below the surface.
"Miss?" the French bakery owner prompted.
When Cate's mind reset itself to the present, she looked up to see the woman handing her a bag with her pastries.
"Thank you," she smiled and took the bag, turning to leave.
The tall brunette stepped out onto the active Manhattan sidewalk, brushing past a group of people who were walking in the opposite direction. A second later, she heard her name called, causing her to stop and turn around.
"Cate!" Santana repeated as she caught up to the older girl, "Listen…I know you've moved on, but…."
"Don't, Santana," Cate said calmly, but her light blue eyes pleaded with the young Latina, "You have no idea how long it's taken me to get over her."
Santana took Cate's hand and turned it over, putting a torn piece of paper in her palm and closing her fingers, "I might never run into you again, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give you this."
Cate sighed heavily, and Santana could sense the taller girl wished she were anywhere but standing there at that moment.
"Tell Brittany I said hi," Cate said as she turned and walked up the sidewalk toward the Starbuck's on the corner.
"We all make mistakes, Cate!" Santana yelled after her, "Sometimes we just need one chance to make things right again!"
Cate Boyd kept walking, the bakery bag crinkling in her left hand as she pulled her right hand up and looked at the piece of white paper that had Quinn Fabray's phone number written on it. Cate's breath caught in her throat at the sight of her ex-girlfriend's name, but she swallowed hard, wadding up the paper and stuffing it into the front pocket of her faded jeans.
4:24 PM
Santana slowly made her way up the six flights of stairs to apartment #6C, taking another bite of her buttery croissant, relishing how good it tasted. She was lost in thought of whether she should or shouldn't tell Quinn she saw Cate this afternoon.
Would it make it worse? Santana internally pondered…or would knowing Cate was doing well ease Quinn's mind?
"Hey, you," a deep voice shook her from her inner discourse, and she looked up to see Grayson coming out of his apartment.
"Hey," she smiled at him, commenting on his attire, "You look nice…going somewhere special?"
"As a matter of fact…I am," he locked his door and stuffed his keys into the side pocket of his tan-colored pants.
"Ohhh? Is it a date?"
"Maybe," he blushed slightly when he smiled, his dimples showing.
"Would it be with my sister perhaps?" Santana ventured, knowing Rachel had not stopped talking about Grayson over the past two weeks.
"Perhaps," he winked, looking down at his watch, "I'm meeting her for a quick dinner between performances."
"That's quite a hike to Midtown for just a quick dinner…," she teased.
"Well…the company's worth it," he said as he passed her up, stepping down a few stairs.
"Grayson Knox…I think you are rather smitten," she told him.
"Maybe," he flashed her another smile before running down the staircase, "Gotta run!"
Santana chuckled under her breath as she moved up the remaining flight of stairs and unlocked her front door. She went inside and set down her handbag then hung up her keys on the hook near the door before putting the loaf of bread on the kitchen table.
The brunette stepped over to the bedroom and took off her shoes, pulling out the drawer on her nightstand. She took out her spiral notebook that read Pregnancy Journal across the front of it and walked back over to the couch with it and the rest of her croissant in hand.
After Santana lifted up the window to release some of the warm, afternoon air, she sat cross-legged in the middle of the lumpy, brown couch. She took another big bite of her bread and pulled her black pen from the spiral ring of the notebook, turning to August 13th and writing in big block letters TODAY I ATE!
She laughed at herself and how giddy she felt over such a small accomplishment. She flipped through to the back of the binder as she chewed her last bite, finding several folded pages of paper that she had stuffed in the back pocket at some point. Pulling them out, she flipped through them casually, realizing they were part of a packet she and Brittany had received from the sperm bank as part of the profile on their anonymous donor.
The decision for them to use an unknown donor was not a difficult one for the couple. Santana had explored several options when she started doing research on getting pregnant, and she knew she did not want a "third wheel", as she termed it, to be part of their family.
It was difficult enough to be in a same-sex marriage and all that went with nature reminding them that there was no logistical method of combining her and Brittany's genes the way a traditional couple could. Santana knew she did not want Brittany to ever feel subordinate to a biological "father"…or a male who might decide to push for that recognition.
In fact, it was important to Santana that nobody ever refer to anyone as the father of their baby, and to make sure of that, she suggested the anonymous donor route.
The couple had the highest of standards on the donor's physical, mental, and emotional health. Brittany insisted on high intelligence, not wanting their child to struggle in school like she had, and Santana insisted on narrowing down the choices further by picking a donor with the same physical attributes as Brittany. Once they had the list down to four candidates, she and Brittany pulled out the two with artistic qualities like they had then requested detailed profile summaries.
The profile in her hand was the donor the couple ultimately picked. Donor #1630.
Santana looked over the pages again, having most of the information memorized at this point in their fertility journey. The last page had the donor's handwritten answers to several posed questions. Santana smiled to herself when she remembered that Brittany instantly thought he had very nice penmanship.
As she scanned the written answers on the last page, she got to the final question: What made you want to be a donor?
One would think that was a straightforward question, but Santana distinctly remembered the answer on the other donor's profile. That donor seemed like a nice person, but the answer "because it pays well" left a foul taste in her mouth. What an ass, Santana remembered saying to Brittany. That answer basically summed up everything the Latina had ever felt about the guys she'd dated before embracing the fact that she was a lesbian.
Santana smiled though when she read Donor #1630's answer to the final question, remembering how touching it was to her and to her wife.
His answer read: If you are reading this then you must want a child very much. If my donation helps you achieve that then I will be very happy, because all children should be this wanted.
After reading that response together the first time, Santana looked at Brittany who responded simply, "Yep…he's the right one."
Monday, August 15, 2022
7:37 PM
"I hate that we're always late," Santana said to Brittany as they sat in the backseat of a NYC taxi.
"Don't worry, Tan…we live in New York," Brittany calmly rubbed her wife's thigh, knowing it always soothed her, "It's expected."
"Well, they're your friends…if you don't care then I don't care," Santana retorted, unsure as to why she felt edgy this evening.
"Austin will understand," she assured Santana, "Ten bucks says he's not even there yet himself."
With that statement, the phone in Brittany's hand buzzed with a text from Austin that said: Where are you? They just seated us at the table.
"Austin," Brittany grimaced toward Santana, typing him back a quick message: order wine…we're almost there!
"See, told you," Santana rolled her eyes as she read the lit screen of Brittany's phone.
Brittany leaned over and kissed her wife on the side of her head, saying softly to her, "Settle down, honey."
"Sorry," Santana smiled at the blonde and took a deep breath, choking suddenly on the array of smells floating around inside the confined interior of the cab.
"Are you okay?" Brittany asked her.
"Yeah, sorry," Santana swallowed hard, praying silently to any deity listening to please make the restaurant instantly appear, "So what's this other guy's name?"
"Austin said his first name is Mitchell…," Brittany answered, "…but I think he said he goes by Mitch."
Santana's prayer must have worked, because a minute later, the cab driver pulled over to the curb in front of an Italian restaurant, and the brunette wasted no time pushing out of the cab behind her wife to breathe in some semi-fresh August night air.
"Do I look okay?" Santana asked Brittany as they walked hand-in-hand toward the door of the restaurant, pulling slightly on the skirt of her dress with her free hand.
Brittany paused on the sidewalk near the metal pole of the restaurant's awning and looked at Santana, smiling widely and thinking how adorable it was that a woman as gorgeous as Santana was always slightly nervous about her appearance.
The tall blonde reached up and ran a soft touch down her wife's jawline, "You look as beautiful as ever. I love when you wear your hair pulled up."
Santana smiled, immediately eased by the look on her wife's face, telling her, "I know…that's why I put it up tonight."
Brittany chuckled, leaning into Santana and whispering, "You know that the sight of your neck makes me want to do naughty things to you, right?"
Santana smirked, retorting, "Hopefully this will be a short dinner then."
Brittany smirked back, reaching for the oversized handle on the front door, confirming, "We'll make sure it is."
The couple giggled at each other as they stepped into the entryway of the restaurant, telling the Maître d' that they were meeting the rest of their party who had already been seated.
"Ahh, yes…right this way," the older gentleman said to them, leading the girls toward the back of the half-full restaurant.
"Here we are," the tall man told them as he stopped and shifted his body to motion them to the table where Austin and his date sat close together, sharing a laugh.
Austin looked up and smiled, standing to greet his best friend.
Brittany returned the smile, pulling back one of the two remaining chairs for Santana, looking back at her when she didn't move to sit down. The blonde heard Austin in the background as he introduced his friends "Brittany, and her wife, Santana," but her main focus was the stunned look on her wife's face.
"Santana?" Brittany verbally nudged.
Santana did not move, completely immobilized, as if she were frozen in place and time. Brittany turned her head to follow Santana's gaze, seeing David Karofsky sitting there at their table.
Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed the twists and turns in this chapter. I got a great chuckle at some of your comments after chapter 6. Some of you guys are too smart for your own good! I'll have to be a bit more clever next time to stay ahead of y'all. Challenge accepted! :)