After the last chapter's reviews I realized that I needed to make a diary with all the quotes of what all you unicorns have been kind enough to say. It's so easy to take bad stuff to heart, and so much harder to really take all the good things in, and good things are so much harder to come by. I mean, it takes a person nothing to throw out a meaningless insult and tear someone down, but it takes so much heart for anyone to get to the point where you want to give the words that so many of you have given me, and I'm going to make them count and always look at the diary when I get sad.
Today, I did a page on the words "I came here for Brittana but I absolutely stayed for you," with many, many stars and rainbows, and tomorrow I'm totally going to do up a page for some of Orange-Green's lovely words. I would have done them earlier, except I was busy looking for the appropriate Orange and Green colored glittery pens. :P
xoxo – Definitely take as long as you need! I've actually even thought about taking a hiatus on this story, except I'm not sure. I know that timing is an important thing, and that drama in this story might not go down well if people are already reeling from glee-drama. But it's hard to know what to do about all that. Anyway, I miss you, you totally inspire so much of the development of this story with your suggestions, kind of like a beta I guess :)
NoPlainJane – Your review had such an effect on me. I knew that this story would find other 'Brittany's' and other 'Santana's' but I had no idea that I'd find one half of a pair who had been lucky enough to meet. There was some journal article(?) on asperger's that I read that actually described the two personality types as being like magnets for each other, so maybe I should have guessed. I know you mentioned she was 'former' and that breaks my heart, and you totally don't owe me anything, but if you ever wanted to find some way to share anything with me about how it was between you and her, I would love that. Making sense out of all this is so hard, and maybe you hold keys to answers about things that I won't be able to find by myself, even by the end of this story. I completely understand if you don't want to though, and I wanted to thank you anyway, just for letting me know you're out there.
hlnwst – You have to be the best herd-er of readers on the planet! I read your review, and read the part about you wanting to tell people about this, and then not too long after it was like a stampede of people came and I got a whole bunch of alerts all at once. You should have seen my face. :P At first I was just stunned, and then there was much grinning. I will really treasure everything that you said, thank you so much, and I love that you've worked with autistic kids, because that makes me admire you. I really hope you enjoyed the last 4 chapters you had to read (and this one!).
Miara848- Aww! You must have had really sore feet *all the hugs*. I have many stories about… missing clothing except I used to forget more than just my shoes. :P When I was younger and doing theatre and musicals, there were always all these checks we did before going on stage, and every time I was in a show whether it was in the chorus or otherwise, the number one check would be for the stagehands to check I actually even had clothes on. Sometimes we were only given a couple of minutes to change costumes, and I'd tear my old one off just fine... it was then remembering to put the new one on before wandering off, that was always the problem. It took a team of people to ensure that my seven year old self never walked out on stage naked. :P
DancyFeet – I love your name! Do you dance too? It sounds like you've got such a happy story, like you've been a unicorn for a really long time and are just owning it, and I love that. It gives me hope, haha. I'm kind of only at the beginning of being this new person now, so I guess I haven't had a chance to take it for granted yet, or see what doors have opened up now I can cope better with things, so I guess I'm saying thanks for reminding me of the future, just like I reminded you of the past. :) I hope you liked the later chapters and all that!
harumad – You never butcher the English language! I really love the way you express yourself, I could actually sit and listen to you talk all day. I know people with English as their first language that don't use it half as well as you. I like the way you put words together and explain things, there's something creative and different about your style of speaking. As for me, I would have no hope of saying much of value in Spanish, though I do know a few very important phrases that Santana taught me like… "te quiero con todo mi corazon" but I don't think that would get me far if I got lost in Mexico and was looking for directions. :P
And don't worry, I know when you mean Brittany you mean me, I didn't know you were proud of me though, and that means a lot to me. :) *hugs*
As for the last scene, I know what you mean, I think there's a movie starring Holly Holliday… (sorry, I mean Gwyneth Paltrow) called 'Sliding Doors' which is all about moments like that. I notice that kind of thing a lot writing this, because phrasing real life as a story kind of points out alternate endings that could have been, but never came to be. At least up until this point, I think I went through the right 'doors' and I hope I can still say that at the end.
Okay, I should probably stop there before I take up more space, so I'll just say a general thank you to everyone, and I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!
This chapter is all pretty much unplanned, and full of things I wasn't going to talk about. So I hope it works and isn't a mess. We shall see. :)
Chapter 18 – Return If Possible
Brittany S. Pierce, Present.
G: "Now then, there's something I want to show you. Look!"
P: "The ripples."
G: "So small at first, then look how they grow. But someone has to start them."
-Grandmother Willow and Pocahontas.
Brittany S. Pierce, age 17.
"I have to admit, it was pretty funny watching you do the splits without meaning too. You've definitely improved since last time though," Santana said, teasingly. Skating at the local roller rink was kind of lame, but Brittany kept harassing her about going again and again, probably because April Rhodes specialized in cheese snacks to go with all the wine she drank, and even though she was long gone, her cheese legacy at the food bar lived on.
"I can't help that my skates have minds of their own, one foot goes one way, and the other gets offended and tries to leave the room. It's nothing like dancing. When I'm dancing, my feet always listen to me," Brittany replied, her mouth forming a pout.
"Yeah, skating is more like walking than dancing, and you've never been particularly good at that one," Santana said. Not that I minded holding onto you the whole time so you didn't fall flat on your face, she thought affectionately.
Brittany punched her lightly. It was true. Walking without tripping over your feet is so hard, she thought. It's not scripted like dancing.
Santana let herself into the Pierce family home, fumbling for a moment with the keys. "So are you sure your mom is gone again, and Katie too?" she said nervously looking around. In no way was she in the mood to deal with the wrath of Mrs Pierce today.
"Yeah, they're at the beach, they could be gone for ages."
Santana paused. "And they didn't bring you?" she asked. And they left you by yourself, she added silently in her mind.
"No," Brittany said quietly, "but I hope they have fun and stuff. Katie won tickets to see her favorite band live on this radio competition, and part of the deal is that they get to stay in a really fancy hotel on the beach for a couple of weeks."
"Oh, so it was a two people only deal then?"
Brittany shrugged.
Santana cocked her head on one side, quizzically.
"They didn't want me to embarrass them," Brittany admitted, her voice small.
"It's a big deal for Katie, but she was sort of okay with me going, it's just… mom wanted to do all the stuff they can't usually do with me around so she said I couldn't come-" she trailed off.
A hot rage instantly flared inside Santana. She'd forgive Brittany's little sister, but Susan was so on her list. She'd never understand that woman. She was so overprotective of Brittany, always wanted to keep her away from the big bad Santana monster, but when it came to Brittany's emotional needs, she was about as warm as a dead fish.
"But you see all the post it notes everywhere? That's all the stuff I've got to do. There's like instructions so I won't mess up," Brittany clarified.
Santana blinked. She went up to the lamp by the couch and plucked the yellow post it note off it.
"Do not leave me on."
Wow, she's specific, Santana thought.
"I'm always wasting electricity," Brittany said, looking at her feet.
Santana went over to the fridge where many notes were posted, all in a rainbow of colors. All of them had various different directions reminding Brittany to eat. She turned back to her friend, plucking a pink note and waving it incredulously in front of her own face slowly as if she couldn't believe it.
"I don't eat sometimes," Brittany reminded her. It wasn't like she meant to keep forgetting, it was just that her body didn't always send her the memo that it needed food to keep going. Last week she had spent days learning about the construction of carousels, and it was like the need-for-food signals had faded away to nothing, and all that had been left were pictures of painted horses, that spun around in her mind until she was too sick and dizzy to look at them anymore. Even then, Brittany couldn't figure out what was wrong with herself. She should have guessed it was a food problem.
"Yes, I know but…," Santana stood there, at a loss for words. Couldn't Brittany see the problem with this? It was so degrading. Okay, so it was true that Brittany might struggle to maintain a household by herself when her family was gone for more than a few days, but surely a phone call to remind her of things every now and then was better than all these post-it notes? She clenched her fists.
"Her house, her rules," Brittany quoted mechanically, her cheeks coloring.
"Okay, that's enough," Santana told her. "Your life, your rules. What happened to the girl who told her mom where to put all those behavior charts? Where'd she go," Santana said flashing her a grin and putting her hands over her eyes and turning around.
Brittany giggled. Santana could be such a dork sometimes. The cutest, most adorable dork. She stepped forward into Santana's back and wrapped her arms around her waist. "I'm right here San," she told her.
Santana relaxed into Brittany's embrace, resting her own hands on top of hers, which were clasped at her stomach.
"Are you sure," she teased, lightly tickling the inside of Brittany's wrists.
She felt Brittany nod into her hair.
"So, we're going to tear all these notes into a billion pieces, and then we're going to throw them in the trash," Santana informed her, "and, we're starting with this one."
Santana moved over to the couch and picked up the blue note.
"I am not a bed," she read out.
"Oh, mom just doesn't want me to fall asleep in front of the TV anymore. The electricity bill is high enough already," Brittany said with a small laugh, trying to explain her mom's concerns, knowing that Santana's mom didn't have to worry about money problems as much as hers did.
Santana wasn't amused. That bitch be crazy, she thought looking at the family picture on the wall. Brittany was looking away from the camera as usual, Katie was only tiny and then there was Susan. She tossed a few notes at Susan's face, the last hitting her square in the forehead like a bull's-eye.
Brittany grabbed another a yellow note off the fridge.
"If you have guests, please clean up, we are not a crack house."
Santana made a miming motion, encouraging Brittany to crumple it in her hands.
Brittany didn't. She stood there quietly regarding Santana. "My mom loves me," she told her, looking at her from underneath her lashes. "She went to a lot of trouble to write these for me."
Santana made a strange noise in her throat. She opened her mouth to tell Brittany exactly what she thought of that woman, and found herself closing it again, at the sight of Brittany's stark, vulnerable eyes. Now isn't the time for a bitch session, Santana thought.
Brittany looked at her feet.
"Yeah, I know that she loves you," Santana told her, honestly.
She had no doubt that Susan would probably jump in front of a moving bus to protect Brittany, and would invest her last dollar into her education or her health.
Santana knew Susan worried about Brittany a lot. It was years ago now, but she had never seen anyone so panicked as Susan had been when she had dragged accident-prone-Brittany home after she had cut herself up badly on the Lopez's driveway, while pretending to be a revving Ford Mustang.
After realizing that she didn't need stitches, Susan had carefully bandaged her up, but like always, she had left it up to Santana to kiss it better.
Santana hated how Susan had taken on the role of a teacher with her daughter, as if harsh discipline and strict rules was the only way to help, and might one day even 'fix' her. Santana had to admit that all the time Susan had spent teaching Brittany life skills had helped her a lot in some ways, but it certainly didn't help her all the times that Brittany had needed to be reassured that she wouldn't die from her latest injury she had sustained. That part had been Santana's job, and they'd started out with just words, then pinky holds, and then Brittany had allowed Santana's arm around her shoulders, and then finally, kisses.
Santana was glad to be that person for Brittany, but she was angry that Susan hadn't ever done the same, because she knew that even when Brittany was little and couldn't handle being touched, she had still wanted it.
At least Susan's better with Katie, Santana thought.
Brittany shrugged, as if reading her thoughts. "She can only do the best she knows how to do," she said.
"I guess that's true. But hey, maybe we know better?" Santana said with a grin, tearing up another note.
"As president of your Unicorn Club, I rule that all these notes are freaking ridiculous, and even if you end up putting your uniform on backwards all week, that's still less silly than all this."
Brittany looked down at the note in her hand, and then crumpled it into a tiny ball.
Santana cheered, clapping and pumping her fist in the air.
Within minutes they were plucking notes, screwing them up into balls and tossing them at each other in an impromptu paper fight.
"Not at my head!" Santana screeched. "Do you know what getting a paper cut on your eye ball would be like?"
"No," Brittany shouted back, ducking for cover as a rainbow of paper balls whizzed by her. "Have you ever had one?"
"No, never! But my mind still goes there, I don't know why!"
Brittany mischievously aimed a few just above Santana's head, and they rained down on her.
"Britt!" Santana hollered, pelting a few into her stomach.
"Aww, okay San," Brittany relented, tossing a pile of them above her own head, giggling, and then going for Santana's feet instead.
"Well, aren't you just braver than me," Santana said in mock indignation.
Brittany stopped. "Nope," she said, "because now my mind's on the eyeball thing, it just took a moment for it to get there."
She held her hands up as a ceasefire, and walked over to Santana, the balls of paper crunching under her feet.
"See, once you go there, you never go back," Santana said, letting Brittany bury her head in her shoulder, and wrapping her arms around her. "You'll never look at paper the same way again."
"Oh my god I have to show Lord Tubbington," Brittany said suddenly, untangling herself from Santana and rushing up the stairs.
"This is totally a mess worthy of him, and he'll probably want to roll in it, and if he's rolling in it, then so am I!"
"Tubs?" Brittany called reaching the upstairs bedroom. "Tubs!" she called again, spotting the cat on the other side of the room, curled up in a ball with his back to her.
"Are you done with your masochistic all-punishing diet. You're starting to remind me of a house elf. Mom really didn't mean to call you fat or anything, and honestly it freaks me out that you didn't eat your dinner last night, because we had mac and cheese, and that's your favorite."
"Britts," Santana said coming into the room, "you've got to stop feeding that cat people-food. Don't think I don't know that you save both your cats part of your dinner every night, and take it up and share it with them. They're getting fatter every day and you're really starting to worry me." She felt Brittany's ribs, cupping her hands around them as she counted them one-by-one.
"San, he didn't even eat his breakfast," Brittany said, worriedly, pointing to the full bowl. "Tubs, wake up and eat your breakfast," she insisted, moving closer.
Santana frowned. That cat could stand to miss a meal or ten, but it really was unlike him not to eat. He also looked stiff, too stiff and unmoving to be asleep. She pulled Brittany back. If he was dead then she really didn't want Brittany to see. "Go downstairs," she told her.
"No," Brittany said immediately, wondering why Santana was suddenly looking so upset, and not wanting to leave her because of it.
Santana grasped her wrist firmly. "I'm serious, Brittany. You need to go downstairs right now. I'll come down in a minute."
Brittany nodded. She trusted her. She threw a last concerned look at her girl and the cat before leaving the room.
As soon as Brittany was out of sight, Santana walked over to the cat. "Look, I'm going to just level with you here, you don't like me, and I don't like you. You've shredded my favorite sweater and I take all of Brittany's attention when I'm over here. I get it, but you better be faking, or-" Santana trailed off, reaching down to touch the cats head. He was warm, and he opened his eyes, giving her a disdainful stare.
Santana let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. Thank god, she thought. She petted him, looking at him curiously when he didn't roll away from her, and was still eying her with the same stare, as if he were trying to tell her something.
Fifteen minutes later, Santana slowly descended the stairs and walked down to Brittany who was sitting on the couch, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. "He's just tired from all those long distance calls he made to Japan this week," Brittany insisted before Santana could even speak.
"Baby girl, I can smell urine on his breath," Santana told her, sighing, wondering how to best approach this one. Her Abuela's cat had already gone through the same thing. "That means his kidneys are failing. He's very old you know, and that happens sometimes, and there's nothing we can do about it."
"No, that's just his smoking habit. He smokes pot you know, and when you come from Puck's house sometimes you smell all woodsy like animal pee. That's what pot smells like, so that's why -"
"Brittany."
Brittany dissolved into tears, wishing that she had been paying closer attention to him lately. He seemed fine before, and today was the first day he hadn't eaten anything.
"I'm going to take him to the vet," Santana said quietly to her, "you stay here."
In the quarter of an hour that she had been upstairs, she and the cat had made a deal. Santana could tell that the reason he had been lying like that in the corner of the room was because he was fading fast and was looking for somewhere to quietly pass away where no one could see him. Cats were private like that, and Santana knew that she agreed with him on one thing – they had to do this in the way that would be easiest for Brittany. They both wanted to protect their girl.
Santana carried the cat downstairs, struggling under his weight and with difficultly held him up for Brittany to kiss his nose, before leaning down to kiss her on her forehead, telling her to put on a movie, and that she'd be back later.
Hours went by before Kurt appeared carrying flowers.
"I'm sorry about your cat, Britts," Kurt told her.
"I know he's gone," Brittany said, "I felt him go hours ago. Senor just gathered all the neighborhood cats under a streetlight outside and sung a song about burnt out ends and dying sunflower memories, and I went and sat outside with them and we all looked at the smiling moon and promised each other we all will be happy again."
Kurt blinked. "Jesus Britt," he said, recognizing that she was quoting a song from 'Cats' that Rachel Berry had performed rather dramatically one week, "I do think you're the saddest-happy-person that I know."
"So how did it happen?" Brittany asked, numbly.
"Um," Kurt said, stalling, not knowing if it was his place.
"I can handle it," Brittany insisted.
Kurt sighed. "Santana said that she had only made it half a block outside your house before he looked at the sky, and went stiff in her arms. It was like he was just waiting to say goodbye, and then he waited for that moment to be outside, so he didn't have to go in front of you."
"Where's Santana," Brittany asked, "is she okay?"
Brittany knew Santana had loved Lord Tubbington more than she had ever let on, and that she had sometimes talked to him when she thought Brittany wasn't listening. The best way to hear Santana's secrets was to leave her alone in a room with Tubs and then listen through the door, although Brittany had stopped doing it when Santana's secrets had become more personal. Sometimes they had even been about her and her 'secret Brittany dreams.'
"She just seemed really angry," Kurt replied, "her mom drove by and pretty much forced her in the car to go to her latest engagement party. They're having it at a resort somewhere upstate. She sent me to tell you. Check your phone, you should have some texts."
Brittany did, and saw she had 11 messages, all from Santana. She blinked. Brittany was usually the one known to send multiple text messages before she got a reply, not Santana. Brittany's own record so far was about 37 messages. She flicked through them, finding they all said the same thing, that Santana was sorry about her cat and that she'd be home in a few days. She called out for Senor, and the younger cat miserably came down from on top of Brittany's wardrobe.
"You're in charge of getting the rats now, brave Senor," Brittany said desperately to the cat, hugging him tightly.
"Did you ever hear about the Pope that made all the cats die, which killed a third of Europe's population? Rats ran around like crazy spreading the plague, and without the cats around to catch them, they were unstoppable predators. We've now lost fifty percent of the cats in the Pierce family household, and that means we're now about fifty times more likely to die from the plague when the rats come."
"Britts, I don't think that's quite right," Kurt told her, "we haven't had to worry about the plague in a long time."
"Start in the kitchen at Breadstix," Brittany told the cat. "Hunt them there. I used to be pro rats and mice cooking in the kitchen, but not anymore. The stakes are too high. Hurry. And don't let anyone call you Dianne Bollywood like the Pope did."
"That's 'diabolical' Brittany, it just means evil, like Satan-evil, like Santana. That's why the pope killed them off," Kurt joked.
"Santana's not evil, and neither are cats," Brittany snapped at him, angrily.
"Okay, okay, I know," Kurt soothed her. The only time he ever got on with Santana was when they were mildly insulting each other, but he knew he shouldn't have tried to make a joke about that right now.
Brittany shook her head, refusing to be comforted. "Thank you for the flowers, Kurt," she said, "but I'll be okay here by myself."
"Are you sure?" Kurt asked. He knew he really should get home to his dad.
Brittany nodded and curled up in bed with a picture of Lord Tubbington. His face was squished into the shot so all you could see was his eyes and the tip of his nose. She kissed him one more time, and then reached for a photo of Santana and kissed her too. Then, she fell asleep clutching both photos, waiting. She knew that of her two loves that she held in her hands, one would be back as soon as she could be, and the other she knew she would never see again.
The dark presence followed her, sitting by them at the dinner table, even though nobody else could see him. Nobody looked at him, and nobody spoke to him, and he never once uttered a single word. Once, he lay in bed with her at night, even though Brittany could also see him looking through her window at the same time, or was it his reflection? He often followed her as she brushed her teeth. Then he faded to grey and almost disappeared. He remained in the shadows, unwashed and smelling of human sin. He had a room that he haunted, that Brittany had once entered by mistake when she was playing hide and seek. After that, she always knew where to find him, he would always be in that room, sitting in single chair, facing the window. The room had no other furniture, except a small cupboard in the corner with a duffle bag, and a mattress that was never used. He didn't acknowledge her, nor did she acknowledge him. She was used to him, though that didn't make him any less frightening.
On occasion, Brittany would come into his room and sit with him, or lay on the floor with her head on a cushion under his chair. Sometimes she'd tell him stories. He was a better listener than anyone else she knew. The last time she ever saw him, he grabbed hold of her wrist in an iron grip, instantly leaving bruises, and Brittany screamed, afraid he would drag her to his world, or hell, wherever he came from. Kicking and clawing wildly, she finally broke free and ran. The next time she was brave enough to visit his room, he was gone, without a trace. When she saw him now, she knew she had to be dreaming, or had she been dreaming all along? When she closed her eyes, he would float just above her, the raincloud over her head that wouldn't leave her alone. He was ever present, but never there all at once, and in her dreams they never did anything but stare at each other.
"Britt Britt, wake up," she heard a distant voice call, and then felt the weight of heavy blankets disappear as they were pulled off of her. She shivered, protesting weakly until she felt warm arms slip around her body, spooning her, open palms pressed possessively against her stomach. Stuck in the world of her dream, she pictured the dark shadow again, but knew without a doubt from the heat and her immediate sense that everything was going to be okay now, that this wasn't him that had crawled into bed with her. Not even close.
She turned inwards towards the source and found the heartbeat, resting her head as close to the sound as she could.
As soon as her forehead made contact with skin, she heard a gasp.
"You're burning up, Britts," Santana said in alarm. She was wearing a low cut top, and as Brittany's forehead connected with her upper chest, she got the full effect of the fire.
"Mhmm," Brittany answered, cuddling closer.
"Open your eyes, Britt," Santana said sharply, watching Brittany struggle to train unfocused and almost sunken eyes on her.
"Can you sit up?" Santana said, frightened, knowing immediately what was wrong. She knew Brittany so well that it wasn't hard to tell what had obviously happened while Santana had been gone.
Brittany lifted her head up listlessly. She frowned. "I think my head hurts."
"I'll bet," Santana said, exhaling and brushing Brittany's hair back from her forehead. "You scare me to pieces, Britt," she whispered to her, slipping out of her bed and returning moments later with a cup of water.
"Now come on, sit up and drink this. You must have cried a lot. I think you're really dehydrated."
"Who's that?" Brittany asked.
"What's that," Santana corrected. "It means I'm going to be really mad at you later for not taking care of yourself again, but for now we've got more important things to worry about."
She propped Brittany's head up on a pillow and gave her the cup. Brittany brought it to her mouth and misjudged the angle, managing to spill most of it all over herself. Santana looked on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry," Brittany told her, biting her lip.
Santana waved her hand dismissively. "It's okay," she muttered and the bed moved with her weight as she stood up again, disappearing into the kitchen.
Brittany could hear her moving things around. She wanted to follow her, but her head felt like it had forgotten how to get up, just as it had obviously forgotten how to hold a cup.
Moments later, Santana came back with a bowl of Jell-O. "Red is your favorite, right Britt?" she said coming to sit beside her, spoon in hand.
"Now open up, and I mean it," she said, although her voice shook too much for it to be much of a threat.
Brittany did, and felt Santana cup under her chin with one hand, spooning Jell-O into her mouth with the other. She swallowed, watching Santana in confusion as the other girl sagged with relief, her shoulders slumping for a moment, before reaching out to give her the second spoonful.
They were halfway through the bowl before Brittany looked more alert and was making eye contact again, and had remembered how to sit up by herself.
"Do you even know how much you scare me," Santana muttered.
"I'm sorry Santana," Brittany repeated, reaching for her hand. "I swear my body just forgets to tell me when to eat sometimes, and when I do remember it's like… not a lot fits inside me at the one time."
"Wanky," Santana said humorlessly, without smiling.
"I didn't mean to scare you," Brittany said.
"I know, Britt, I know you never mean to. I know that with all the cheerleading and the dancing you do, you get underweight, and you barely even remember the three meals let alone extra. But it's not just that, it's everything," Santana said.
"It's all the constant worrying about you. When I don't hear from you, I never know if you're lost somewhere, or if you've remembered to feed yourself, or if you've picked a fight with someone without even realizing it and you're getting your ass kicked. When its cold out, I can never expect you to come to school with a jacket on, and when it's hot, I find you overheated in too many clothes."
Brittany squeezed her hand. She wasn't sure if another 'sorry' would be any good right about now, even though it was what she wanted to say.
"And yet, somehow, you freaking find ways to take of me," Santana said, getting emotional.
"Somehow I feel safe with you, because you've got my back, but yet you haven't got your own. I can count on you to save me from pills that had me locked up inside a tiny cage, barely able to remember my own name," Santana said referring to the antidepressants that had been prescribed to her, "but I can't count on you to fucking remember that you need a glass of water."
"You're angry?" Brittany asked her, trying to understand. She knew she did all those things, but she wasn't sure why it would make Santana mad. "Maybe I kind of needed those post-it notes," she admitted.
"Yes! I'm really angry at you. And, I'm scared, and fuck those notes!" Santana said, struggling not to raise her voice to her yelling place. "I know you lost your cat, and I know that's hard, but even when things like that happen, I need you to be better than that, because I can't be here all the time."
"What if I didn't come back early? We nearly stayed a couple more days. What then?" Santana said, beginning to cry.
"Sometimes you remind me of a pressed flower, you're so beautiful, but it's almost like you're as fragile as paper."
"San," Brittany said, reaching to cup her cheek, "I'm fine. Come here okay?"
She pulled Santana into her arms, taking her full weight on top of her. It felt good, and to Brittany it always had. Santana wasn't heavy. Brittany thought she was just the perfect weight to have resting on you that could make you feel not confined, but sheltered. Hating that Santana was crying because of her, Brittany rocked her as she sobbed, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"You know, Kurt was right, we really are the saddest-happy-people on the planet," she said.
"You are," Santana corrected, clutching her shirt. "I'm just the happiest-sad-person. You make me as close to happy as I can get. That's why I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Brittany said. "I'll try harder," she promised her, looking into Santana's swollen eyes, before laying her chin down on the top of her head and breathing in her scent deeply. Nobody else smelled like Santana, and that totally made it her favorite smell in the whole world.
Santana took in a deep shuddering breath. "So what were you dreaming about, when I came in," she asked.
"Oh, it's nothing," Brittany said, squeezing her, "I have that dream all the time."
"No, tell me," Santana said, lifting herself up a little to see her better.
Brittany was silent for a beat. "San, do you ever feel like your brain wants to remember things, but it can't, so all that comes back are ghosts? Like your brain is a castle, and it has shut out all the dragons, but they're still there, wanting to come back in, and every now and then, they huff and puff a smoke-y shadow of themselves and let it slip into the castle where it haunts you. But then you aren't really even sure what it's a shadow of, because you don't know for sure that the dragons actually exist," Brittany rambled.
"All the time," Santana said, her breath holding.
"As far back as I can remember, I've always dreamed about this man," Brittany admitted. "I think for a while, he was like my imaginary friend and I made him up, but then later on, he became part of my nightmares. I don't know who he is, just that I dream about him always being there in the time before Mom sent me off to live with Granny. I don't know why I'm afraid of him, but sometimes I have to look twice at things, because I feel like he's standing in my room watching me, and then I don't know if I'm still asleep, if it's a memory coming to mind, an imaginary friend, me losing my mind, or all of them at once."
Santana nodded. She wasn't always sure about her own dragons either. Sometimes, in her darkest moments she saw glimpses of violent people that once upon a time may have been real to her, or perhaps not.
"When we were kids I thought I was going crazy, and I still kind of do, except I'm just used to being crazy now. You remember all that time we spent looking for the Unillama?" Brittany asked.
Santana stifled a giggle. "How could I forget, Britt," she said.
"It wasn't always just a game for me," Brittany told her, "it was about the man. I remember him always feeling like a real person to me, because I could walk over and touch him. He'd always be cold and always dirty, but I could touch him, you know? And, he could touch me. By the time I met you, I thought I'd made him up, but then I thought I must be crazy because who else has fantasies that can come to life and seem so real?"
Santana played with Brittany's long fingers, walking them up her arms. You have such beautiful hands, she thought.
"So when I met you, I wanted to try and bring a Unillama to life, because if I did that, and if you couldn't see or feel him, then I would know, I would know that I'm just crazy. But I guess you somehow cured me, because no rainbow animals ever came, and the man, whoever he was, never came back except in my dreams," Brittany told her.
Santana was pretty sure her jaw had dropped to the floor. Suddenly a little piece of the Brittany-puzzle had clicked into place, though she still wasn't sure if either of them had the right number of pieces yet.
"Could he be real, Britts? Someone who really lived with you for a time?" Santana asked.
Brittany shrugged. "You might be right, because most of the time I can tell fantasy from reality now. I have moments when I can picture things that I'm talking about so vividly that it's like I get lost and forget they aren't real. But then after, when all is quiet, I can usually tell the difference. The made up memories are usually in Technicolor, and the real ones much more bland."
Except you, Brittany thought, bringing her hand up behind Santana's head. My memories with you are the brightest and clearest of all, yet they are not in Technicolor.
"And this strange man? What are the colors like?"
"Black and white," Brittany said, "like an old movie that time is trying to erase."
She paused. "San, when I said that Lord Tubbington was smoking and making calls to Japan before, I didn't mean it. It was just easier to think it that way, than to think about him dying. Because I knew, San, I knew he was dying the moment I saw him. My brain just needed a break for a little while, so I pictured him on the phone with a guy named Mr Moshimoto, dialing for imported sushi. None of that happened, Santana, I know that. And I know all the cats in my neighborhood didn't go outside and sing 'Memory' from 'Cats' like I told Kurt. I really just cried at home and tried to sort through Tub's sweaters to box them up, but it really sucked, so I pictured a musical number, like we do in Glee, 'cause those always make me feel good."
"It… it never happened, Santana," Brittany said, as if she thought Santana might have taken her at her word.
"I love your mind Britt, I love that you can go places in your head that the rest of us can't, but sweetie I know that your cat doesn't really do those things. I know all the cool photos we have of Tubs as a gangster were posed, and I know he can't do human things."
Santana took a beat to gather her thoughts.
"But, right up until now, I wasn't sure that you knew. I wasn't sure that you knew it wasn't real. And, I'm so, so glad you just told me that," Santana said, angling her head to peck Brittany on the lips.
"You always know the difference, between when I'm just daydreaming, and when I'm talking about real stuff, right San?" Brittany asked.
"Always," Santana promised her.
"How?" Brittany asked, confused.
"Because it's like you said, when you say your crazy stuff, I can only picture it the way you'd picture it," Santana laughed, "in bright colors with backing music and anthropomorphic animals, where all the birds come down and land on your outstretched arms. So I guess what I'm saying is, I look for Technicolor too, and that's when I know you're off in your beautiful world."
"Can I ask you sometimes, which one's are real and which one's aren't, if I get a bit stuck?" Brittany asked.
"Anytime," Santana assured her, then rolled off the bed to pull her to her feet.
"Where are we going?" Brittany asked, feeling Santana's arms catch her and hold her upright. She still felt a bit weak.
"Outside, to sing 'Memory' under your streetlight, in our most catlike voices," Santana said, pretending to brush at her whiskers.
Brittany gaped at her.
"I really hate your neighbors," Santana informed her, "I really just want to piss them off as much as possible. They called me a trollop or a tramp or something like that, and they're now in need of having their night ruined."
Brittany held tight to Santana's waist and tried to keep her head from spinning as they walked into the hallway.
"And you're sad," Santana said quietly, "you need to keep your Technicolor world in sight tonight."
"You are so cool," Brittany said, not able to filter her thoughts at all, with the effort of walking at Santana's pace.
Santana's face almost looked pained for a moment before she recovered. "Just never stop dreaming Britts, I know I come down on you hard sometimes, but I just want you to remember to keep me in sight as well."
Brittany nodded, and there was a moment of silence as Santana half carried Brittany down the stairs with great difficulty. "San do you still have to go to Mexico, to stay with your mom's friend?" Brittany asked when they reached the bottom.
"Yeah," Santana made a face. "Mom thinks it will keep me out of trouble over the break. I had Puck over and mom was less than pleased when she heard how many times he'd been in Juvie. At this point, I think she'd be more comfortable with me dating you," she joked.
Hearing the tell tale signs that Santana was joking around, Brittany's face fell, and her heart twisted over. How could Santana be holding her so intimately right now and still think that they were just friends?
"You take care of yourself while I'm gone okay?" Santana said anxiously, taking Brittany's expression to mean she was upset about her leaving.
"I'll be gone for two weeks, and when I come back I want to see your gorgeous face looking healthy, and I don't want to see a skinny bag of bones."
Or worse, she thought, feeling her heart rate speed up.
They reached the streetlight and crouched down in front of it. What have I got myself into, Santana thought amused. This is insane and we are going to get so many complaints.
She grinned, wickedly. All the more reason to do it then, she thought. Senor had followed them out, and sure enough three of the other neighborhood cats were following him. Of course this was the universe's way of reminding her that when it came to Brittany, anything was possible.
Brittany steeled herself determinedly. "I'll be okay, San. I promise," she said looking into Santana's eyes, not missing how Santana's eyes grew soft and sweet in that moment, illuminated by the glow of the lamp, and when she fluttered her own eyes shut, she felt a gentle kiss pressed to her neck.
Brittany almost made it five days before the absence of Santana and Tubs had become too much to bear.
Senor reminded her a lot of Santana, since they both had the same ethnicity and all, and it had been super comforting to cry into his fur, but in the end, she needed her Granny. After a visit to the vet where Senor had been deemed perfectly healthy and not about to enter old age for several years yet, she had handed him to Kurt to look after.
Then, she had put on a red hood, deciding that she would go live at Granny's until Santana came back from Mexico. All she had was a number and an address that she had stolen from her mom's room, and on the eighth call when nobody had answered, she'd decided that Granny must be hard of hearing these days, and Brittany would just have to come regardless.
Many buses later, and after several wrong turns, Brittany had found the right address. The little house where Granny and Uncle Albert now lived was more or less empty, with most of the possessions removed. From what Brittany could tell by looking in the windows, what was left was haphazardly strewn about in places it shouldn't be. Brittany had never been there before, but she knew that Granny would never allow any house of hers to be in such a state. There had to be something wrong.
Not knowing where to go, she had wandered back to the farm where she had spent her early years. It had been sold just under a year ago when her uncle had ran into debt, and she could tell someone else owned it now, because everything was different. It didn't have as many farm animals anymore, and at the front there was a shop selling imported gifts. It was starting to rain, but she didn't mind. She shielded her eyes, looking between her fingers at the sky.
Brittany pushed the gate open to the pasture and slowly walked in. Where are all the sheep? she thought, coming to lie down on the grass, stretching out her arms and legs out to form an X. I'm here Granny, come find me, x marks the spot, she thought.
The rain beat down harder and then Brittany couldn't see anything at all. She thought she might go to sleep, she was just so tired and she felt strangely disconnected from her body.
"Hey, you!" a voice called, "little rain girl? What are you doing out in the rain and in our paddock?"
The man approached her, his shoulders big and burly, the ends of his moustache dripping wet.
Brittany got to her feet quickly and shrank back, afraid. The fabric of her top was fast clinging to her skin and she could feel raindrops collecting at the ends of her hair.
"Hey, come on, I'm not going to yell at you, or even set our bull on you," he told her gruffly. "Speak. Where are you from, why are you here?"
"I'm looking for my granny," Brittany mumbled, only just managing to make her voice carry over the sound of the rain. "She lived here. With all the animals."
"Well you shouldn't go onto other people's property for any reason," he said, "it's trespassing and you could get in a lot of trouble, and I can't imagine why you'd be lying in an open field like that, we're about to get a pretty bad storm and maybe some hail. I'd want to be under cover. You've got the rain boots right, but the rest of you is going to be soaked."
"I'm just looking for my granny," Brittany repeated. "I don't know where she is."
The man peered at her as if suddenly realizing something, placing a hand above his forehead to shield himself for from the rain so he could get a better look at her. "Hey, you're not Audrey's kid are you?"
"Grand-kid," Brittany corrected him shyly.
The man shrugged. "She spoke of you like you were her own. She said she had no daughter, only a granddaughter and it sounded funny to me at first, but I know better than anyone how hard it can be to get along with your family. My name's Ron, by the way. Walk with me, you can try to dry off inside."
"I'm Brittany S. Pierce," Brittany said extending her hand to shake his firmly.
He chuckled at her enthusiasm, then his face turned somber. "I know where your granny is. Everyone knows each other in these parts. She's at Carter's."
"Where's that?" Brittany asked.
"It's like our care facility here. Sort of like where everyone goes when they need assisted living. It's just a few blocks from here," he said pointing in the right direction.
He slapped his knee as if something had just came to him. "Oh, hey, did you get your birthday present? She came in here a couple of months ago, because she'd heard that I got in a shipment of Disney Couture stuff. Funny isn't it, to have an import shop on top of a farm, but what can I say I didn't want to give up a successful established business. I remember she bought a little Tinkerbell necklace for you to celebrate some musical theatre thing you did. Did you like the neckla… hey wait!"
Brittany never let him finish his sentence, taking off and throwing a quick thank you to him over her shoulder as she went, ignoring his calls that she shouldn't be out in the storm. She wasn't sure what had happened to the necklace, maybe her mom had kept it from her. She didn't even care right now.
Fifteen minutes later, she had managed to get by the woman at the front desk of the care home and had done some detective work to find the right room.
"Granny!" she shouted, unable to keep her voice down.
Audrey smiled warmly at her. "Now here's a nice surprise," she said sitting up in bed and pulling the crocheted blanket around herself. "Certainly a nice, but very wet and sodden, surprise."
Brittany beamed, trying not to drip all over the carpet.
"Al, find some way to dry Brittany off will you?" Audrey asked her son.
"Uncle Albert!" Brittany said, delighted to see him there as well. She ran to him and he lifted her a full inch off the ground, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.
He set her down. "Sure thing mom," he answered, reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a towel and draping it over Brittany's shoulders. He pushed her towards the bed. It had been a long time since he'd seen her and he wanted to talk to her so badly, but he knew she needed to talk to his mom first, it was so important that they got that time together.
"Granny why is your chin shaking?" Brittany asked, forgetting her manners. "My chin shakes like that when I'm sad, are you sad?"
"No my love, I'm not sad," Audrey told her, the effort it took her to speak plain. "I'm just getting very old, that's all."
Brittany remembered why she had come. She moved forward and lay her head in her Granny's lap.
Albert got up intending to move her, but Audrey waved him off over Brittany's head. She didn't care how wet Brittany was, she would never refuse affection from her granddaughter.
"You've come so far darling," Audrey murmured to her, patting her head with shaking hands, remembering the day she had met Brittany and how distressed she had seemed, darting away from her when Audrey had tried to pick her up.
"Look at you. You make me so proud. Now what did you want to tell me?"
"Lord Tubbington's gone-" Brittany started, before her throat closed up.
"Oh, Britty, he died did he?" Audrey said sympathetically, clasping her hands over Brittany's head. She knew how much Brittany loved that cat, and she could see the pain all over her face at the loss.
"Santana said he was too old," Brittany whispered, "I wish RIP meant return-if-possible."
"Me too," Audrey told her, "but only for your sake."
Confusion flooded Brittany's eyes, and Audrey paused for a moment to find the words to explain what she meant.
"I think Lord Tubbington was ready to go, Britty. When cats are old, and they've had their life, it's not always sad for them to have to die. He lived like a king... or you might even say, a lord. His life was full of love and so many adventures with you. He was your best friend, and that's all you can give a cat. I know that he had no more wishes, except to rest, and that the hardest thing he had to face when it came to dying, was leaving you and not being sure if you'd be okay," Audrey told her.
"He held on so he could say goodbye to me, then he waited until I was out of his sight so I couldn't see him go," Brittany said.
And I'll do the same, Audrey thought, stroking Brittany's hair. I wish I could have said goodbye to your mom in person, that would be my very last wish, but having you here is more than I hoped for.
"I want you to know, I've had a great life too, Brittany, just like your cat," Audrey told her, "there are so many things I've always wanted to tell you."
"I like stories," Brittany said, nodding, missing the heavy undertones of Audrey's words.
Audrey sighed. She wished she had enough energy for a long story. "When I was your age, I never imagined myself as a farmer's wife, but then I met your grandfather. He'd only just immigrated from Holland and for me it was love at first sight. Even when he died, it was like he was still with me. He was the heart of the farm, he was in your uncle Albert, and he was in you. You have his free spirited sense of humor."
"Did Granddad love you back?"
"Oh yes, very much," Audrey said wistfully, "we met on a train, and he forgot where he was going the moment he saw me, and he followed me to my platform. He wouldn't go until I gave him my name, and then once he had it he never left."
Brittany's eyes grew heavy-lidded with enchantment, just as they did when she watched Sleeping Beauty and saw the happily-ever-after at the end.
"How's Santana," Audrey asked knowingly, watching her.
Brittany shrugged. "She's okay, I think."
There was a brief silence. Brittany puffed out her cheeks, breathing hard. It was like if she didn't say something she might burst, she'd never had much of a filter. It was like there was a weight pressing down on her to speak now, because she might never get the chance again.
"Granny, I love Santana like you love Granddad," she blurted out.
Audrey exhaled in relief. She had been watching Brittany's face anxiously and was glad that the issue she was obviously struggling with wasn't something more serious. She'd honestly thought something might really be wrong.
"I know," she said, "I've had a feeling ever since you were little and sent me that letter telling me about her. You'd drawn her as a superhero, and there were all these lines coming off the picture labeling your favorite things about her. When I read the one pointing to her mouth that said 'when she smiles, she smiles with her whole face' I think I knew."
Brittany exhaled, trying to wind down. She hadn't known how afraid she had been about what Granny might think. Even though Granny had always been so accepting of everything she did, she had still been scared that Granny might think being with Santana was bad, like some people at school did. She'd almost wanted to keep it from her for that reason, but she just couldn't. It wasn't about being brave, it was that she had thought she might explode if she didn't say it right then and there. She had no control at all.
"Hers was the first smile I ever saw," Brittany agreed, feeling Uncle Albert pat her on the back in a show of his support. She felt so lucky that no-one in the room was looking at her any different.
"Yes," Audrey agreed, "but not because nobody had ever smiled at you, it was just hers was the first to pull you out of your own little world enough to see someone properly. I knew that this little girl you were writing about had to be very special, and I knew that you had to love her very much, and that she must love you back. How could that ever not be wonderful?"
"She's never told me she loves me back, Granny."
"Oh, Britty, I'm sure she does, how could she not?" Audrey said, sadly.
"Well there's this guy, his names Puck. Santana spends a lot of time with him."
"Al, can you give us some girl time," Audrey called to her son who retreated quickly, then turned back to Brittany. "Do you think she loves him?"
"I just don't know," Brittany said, confusion playing all over her face. "They seem to laugh a lot, and she doesn't cry when she's with him, but then again they're always smoking stuff together, so maybe it just kind of looks like she's happier with him. She says everything's 'easier' with Puck."
"But she has you," Audrey told her. "And, nobody said any of this was easy," she said echoing the soundtrack to a day now gone by.
Brittany was silent for a time, gathering her thoughts.
"Sometimes I'm very, very sure that she loves me. On the last day of school, she promised me that we could make out all the time. I had sung her a song from the Little Mermaid about kissing in Glee club, and at first she told me that life sucks, and even when some people want to kiss, they still can't. But then on that day, while the seniors were all saying their goodbyes, she changed her mind."
Audrey couldn't help giving a small chuckle at Brittany's description. Young love, she thought. How I miss it, and how glad I am that I had my share.
"I've never been surer that she loves me, than I was on that day, Granny. It was the way she followed me and promised me the whole world, like there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for me in that moment. And since then, she's tried so hard, and it's been so much fun. She thinks I like going to the roller rink with her because of the cheese snacks, but it's really because out the back there is this awesome make-out spot where nobody ever goes, and she lets me kiss her until both our faces hurt. At first she was kind of stiff and always looking around for people coming, but she's been getting better all the time."
"I'm so glad," Audrey said sincerely. "What made her change her mind on the last day of school, do you think? Did you say something?"
"No, I actually just left the room, and I think I made her feel bad."
"She was scared you might leave her?"
"No, I think she might have been scared she 'broke' me or something, because she's always talking about not wanting to do that. So she made me promises she couldn't keep," Brittany told her all in one breath.
"I went home with her that afternoon, and by midnight she was crying her eyes out and she wouldn't tell me why, and in that moment I was even more sure of her love."
"Why is that, Britty?" Audrey questioned, trying to follow Brittany's intense and hurried speech.
"Because I know what she's like now," Brittany said softly. "She takes big leaps forward that she's never ready for, and she takes them all for me. The problem is, the come-down to reality hurts like a bitch."
Brittany covered her mouth. "Sorry Granny."
Audrey swatted at her playfully and could only laugh. Any swear words coming out of Brittany's mouth kind of reminded her of a swearing Pomeranian.
"The first time she kissed me just over a year ago, she wasn't ready for it. She worked herself up into such a state that she couldn't even speak to me for months. This time, she was better, or at least prepared, and she let me hold her through the night."
"It's those big steps that tell me she loves me, Granny. She wouldn't put herself through that otherwise. She reaches for this place she can't reach, and ends up falling to pieces instead."
"What do you think she's reaching for, my love?"
"Happiness," Brittany told her instantly, "I don't think she wants to be with me unless she feels like she can really be there and feel everything with me. All that stuff she says about worrying she'll ruin me is a lot about… I can't explain it."
"Try," Audrey said, urging her on.
"I guess a relationship is kind of like two candles burning side-by-side. Sometimes they can join up into one big candle when they're having…"
"Fun," Audrey interrupted quickly.
Brittany huffed. "I was only going say sweet lady kisses," she pouted.
"Oh, and sometimes, they can use some of their fire to make baby candles as well, and then grand-baby candles," Brittany said regarding her grandmother.
Audrey nodded, so far following Brittany's metaphor.
"But when she doesn't realize I'm listening, that's when I understand her best. It's like she's always been afraid that if she gets too close to me, we won't be two candle's burning brightly together. She thinks that she'll just burn me up until there's nothing left, and then I'll be as broken as she thinks she is."
"So at some point in between her following you and telling you she'd changed her mind, and midnight that night, she came back to earth, but then decided to kiss you silly, anyway?"
"It was so different this time," Brittany mused.
"What do you mean, my darling?"
"Usually when she makes me promises she can't keep, they're always promises about her telling me everything's going to be different soon, and I guess she's always talking about herself."
Brittany paused "It's when she thinks she can't change, and that she can't be the kind of candle she wants to be, that she gets down on herself. That's when she usually takes it out on me and she starts yelling, and saying stuff she doesn't mean to hurt me."
"And she didn't this time?"
"No, we didn't even fight at all, and I think that's really how I know she must love me so much, because at midnight that night while I was holding her together, moments later it was like everything became all about m-me," Brittany said stuttering.
"If I could describe it in words, it would be like she put out her own flame because she thought that would be the best way to keep mine going. I felt like I was watching the light leave her eyes. She told me she was sorry that she 'sucked so bad' but she would still try to make me happy because I deserved that."
Oh, Santana, Audrey thought sadly. You crazy mixed up child. I wish I had time to meet you, and try to help.
"Ever since then, we've made out all the time. But it's like she's not looking for anything when she does it anymore. She's not trying to find the things she needs. And in some ways, it makes me feel so loved, like she must care so much to want to make me happy, but at the same time, it all feels empty, like she's just doing this for me, and not for herself. And that's when I get confused about love, Granny, I look into her dead eyes and I miss the fire, and I'm not sure if she feels anything, and if she doesn't feel anything, then how can I feel loved?"
Brittany paused. "What can I do Granny?"
Audrey paused, weighing up what Brittany had said in her tired mind. "Does anything bring her back?"
"Yeah, she really opens up to me when she's sad. When she's upset, I'm always the one she turns to. And when I'm sad, it's like something hits a switch in her and all these feelings for me pour out of her. But when neither of us are sad, it's like she's …she's-"
"Not emotionally available?" Audrey supplied.
"Yes. Her emotions aren't available anymore."
"She only calls me baby when I'm crying, like that's the only time she can bring herself to be that affectionate with me. She's not like that when we're kissing or when we're happy."
"Give her time," Audrey suggested.
"I know," Brittany said, "and I will. It's just I'd give anything for her to smile with her whole face and tell she loves me when I'm smiling too, or for her to tell me how she feels in the most ordinary of moments when we're just breathing. It's just a wish Granny, nothing more, and it's not even that important."
"Oh, of course it's important," Audrey told her. "It's okay to want to connect with her when you're happy as well as when you're sad. That's what all of this is about, isn't it?"
Brittany nodded and wiped at her eyes. She hadn't even realized she'd been crying.
"I'm totally one step ahead of her though," Brittany informed her.
"Of course you are," Audrey said, clasping Brittany's hand tightly, "I should have guessed."
"Kissing is awesome," Brittany said, nodding.
Audrey laughed, gesturing with her hands for her to elaborate.
"Kissing is progress. And out of all the kisses we've had lately, there's been just one where she seemed to forget everything, and I watched the tiniest spark come into her eyes, and in that moment it was just her and me under a streetlight in the dark. I don't even think she realized it, but she was happy."
"Did she smile with her whole face, like in your letter?" Audrey asked.
"Well, no," Brittany said, her face not losing its resolve, "but I knew she could of, and that she was close."
"It was like looking at a flower whose petals haven't opened yet, and wanting to give that flower just a little bit more sunlight. One day she's going to realize that I will never hurt her, and then for the first time she'd going to know what it feels like to feel safe, safe enough to open herself up to be the most beautiful flower in the whole world. Even if we do kiss each other a thousand times without feelings, and then on kiss one-thousand-and-one she looks at me and her petals open, then no matter how many times it hurts to see her so closed off, it will be worth it in the end."
If I had ever smiled with my whole face, I would be doing it right now, Audrey thought, knowing that when she passed on, she would think of this very moment, putting it side by side with other moments she would always treasure.
"She thinks she's just doing this for me right now, but when she's a flower, then she'll understand," Brittany told her.
"Do you know what I think, Britty? I think that this Puck guy you mentioned could never stand a chance. I'm so proud of you. I think that one of the nicest things about this past two decades for me, has been getting to see you grow up," Audrey said.
Brittany smiled. "Thank you for all your advice, Granny. You're like Grandmother Willow from Pocahontas. Like a spirit guide."
Audrey coughed. It was time to tell her now. She took her hands and signed the word 'family,' with Brittany's pinky in tow.
Her forehead wrinkling in confusion, Brittany signed it back.
"Soon, I really will be your spirit guide," Audrey told her. "Albert can you come back in here please," she called.
"Are we going to play Pocahontas games," Brittany asked, regressing back into fantasy, as fast as she'd arrived.
Audrey shook her head. "I don't really get out of bed anymore, my love, I get too tired. Today's been one of the good days, but I don't think I'd make it more than a few steps."
"Are you sick?" Brittany asked, alarmed, throwing her body protectively over Audrey's legs, hugging her tightly as if that could fix it. It couldn't be harder to fix than heartburn, she thought.
"Yes, darling," Audrey said, looking to Albert for help.
"It's stomach cancer," Albert told her, struggling with his own emotions. "It's in the late stages, there's nothing that can be done."
"I don't know what that is," Brittany said moving to gently wrap her arms around her Granny's stomach instead.
"It doesn't matter," Audrey told her, holding her close. "All that matters is that I got to see you like this," she said into Brittany's hair, squeezing her, "and that you keep going. You take Santana to prom, okay? And you take a picture and you send it to me up in heaven. I love you Brittany."
"I love you, Granny," Brittany sobbed. "I'm sorry I talked about Santana so much. We should have been talking about you, I didn't know you were sick."
"I swear to you Brittany, that this conversation was exactly the one I wanted to have most with you, and right now I feel like the luckiest Granny alive. There's nothing in the world you could have done to make me happier," Audrey said sincerely. Listening to her speak the way she had today made her sure that Brittany was going to be okay now, and with that, she knew she would rest easy.
Brittany kept holding on. She never wanted to let go. She let Audrey push a note into her hand, and her fingers closed around it tightly.
"One last thing. I wrote this because I knew you might have questions about things that happened when you were little. I know your mom will never explain anything to you, so here are the answers, as best that I know. When you're ready to read it, you'll know, and I'll be there waiting as your spirit guide."
In this story's timeline, there's only been weeks between the last chapter and this one. In real life, it was actually a few months. I kept it as weeks, because I'm trying to fit with Glee-verse.
3 Things:
1. I just want you to say that I don't mean to make anyone feel bad for me when I talk about my relationship with my mom, because it really isn't that bad at all. I get ahead of myself and just type out details about it just to be literal, or truthful and when people write that they're affected by it, or it hurts to read it, I never see that coming. I got everything I needed one way or another, even if Santana had to do mom-stuff sometimes.
2. I think I might have mentioned it, but all of Brittany's family history is also mine. That note Granny gave me contains quite a bombshell. I'll get to that. Granny didn't live much longer after this, I was lucky to see her when I did.
3. I know I've talked a lot about Santana's feelings and about where's she's coming from over the earlier chapters so from that narration and hindsight, as the audience you knew a lot more about what's going on than Brittany actually did at her various ages. But, I think she's just about caught up to Brittany Present, and the two voices are starting to merge in their understanding.
It so wasn't easy getting there though, getting to that point of understanding I mean. Brittany has gone through dozens of metaphors in her quest to understand Santana. Some I wrote about were cats and raccoons, broken vases, fireworks, tornadoes, ballet shoes, butterflies, flowers, candles and of course unicorns.
I can only think in pictures, not concepts, so if I can't visualize something in my mind then it's just confusing and might as well not exist. So, there has to be a visual metaphor for anything and everything.
I didn't actually plan to write about most of the stuff in this chapter, especially not about Lord Tubbington's death. I'm ridiculously obsessed with my cats. "Lord T" was actually a female cat (which explains why I talked about "Lord T" being in heat in one chapter), and yes she was fat because I insisted on sharing my dinner with her every night. :P
Oh, and I almost forgot, how is everyone coping after that last Glee episode? I know I cried. Should I maybe be giving everyone longer to recover from it, before posting more chapters? Thinking of your audience is very important. I know that this story can be hard to read sometimes, and I don't want to be posting while everyone is already too sad to read. Just a thought! And thank you for listening. :)