A/N: Been a while- apologies.
A number Santana didn't recognize flashed on her cell phone display. The Good Doctor would never resort to calling on a cell that wasn't his. Deception wasn't his style. So, she answered.
Santana had perfected her perky receptionist voice, "thank you for calling Bob's Dildo Emporium, how may I direct your call?"
There was a pause, then a throaty laugh, "Santana?"
She vaguely felt like she might have recognized that voice; deep, older, male, Black, a hint of Spanish accent. She didn't confirm anything, trying another one, "Roadkill Café. You kill it, we grill it."
Full-bellied laughter now, "Des Ortega Jr, that you, Santana?" He rasped again, "they call me Rolls."
Wait what!
Him. Really?
Then she knew. Finn.
She had the vaguest of recollections of Finn wanting details about her biological father while she was half in the bag at Fiesta Broadway. Santana felt her chest tighten at the prospect of speaking to him. But, she didn't feel like she needed to be the one to make an effort here.
So, she responded, "go ahead caller, you're on the air."
He chuckled again, "Cute… um, I don't even know where to start…. You know who I am. Ah, I figure you have questions, and I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I don't want to go another day with us being strangers…"
Just like that?
"I'm playing Philly this weekend, I'm in Lima right now. I was hoping… we could have dinner or something."
Santana was completely thrown, "what like now?"
"Yeah, or tomorrow? Or Friday before 2."
It seemed so odd to be trying to organize a time. Do I even want to see him?
She figured he owed her, so she could go, yell at him, and spare herself years of therapy. And then she'd never have to see him again.
She questioned his motives, "Why should I believe you're genuine?"
"Got no reason to trust me," he agreed, "I hear you. But I've got a story, and you've got a story. It might be too late for me to be your pops, but I'm willing to try."
Breeze back in after nearly 20 years.
"Why now?" It was hard to keep her anger from welling up.
"Not gonna lie, your boy came to see me in L.A."
At least he was upfront about that, but he probably figured she already knew. She decided to just listen.
"But it got me thinking," her Bio-dad said, "about all the things I've missed out on, because of how I've lived my life, a slave to my sax."
"Ah ha." His comment pissed her off. Slave implies you had no choice in the matter, and somehow, I doubt that!
"I don't want us to be strangers," He stated simply, "but most of all, I want to know you."
That was the right thing to say.
"Fine!" She relented, fully expecting to regret it. "Tomorrow night."
"I hear you like that Italian place, BreadStix," He suggested.
Damn you, Finn!
She was curt, "fine!"
"I'll book for eight? Should I pick you up? Or do you want to meet me there?"
"I'll meet you there," she advised, fully expecting that by the time Snixx was done beating his ass with his shiny fucking saxophone he wouldn't be offering to drive her home.
She knew who her next call was going to be. She hit speed dial.
"Finn…" was She about to launch into the Snixx Special, when he cut her off.
"I told Mr Schue!" He sort of exploded, "about the Tell-tale Kiss, I confessed."
She huffed, "I figured." At least that explains the meltdown.
She thought him admitting it was stupid. Some crappy things you do, you just have to live with them, and carry the burden around all by yourself.
Back to me! "Speaking of confessing," sarcasm mode took over, "done any… oh, I don't know, finding of long-lost fathers' recently?"
Finn was silent, before sounding worried, "are you mad?"
"Does it ever occur to you to stop fucking meddling in my private business!" She fumed. "I already tried with him and he blew me off!"
"You surprised him, and that was like…" Finn scrambled for a 'glass half full' explanation, "over two years ago, maybe he's sorry and he's ready to try now."
"Dorothy, when you meet the Wizard," She teased him mercilessly, "ask him for an ass-whooping to knock the naivety out of you."
"I know it's hard, but sometimes, you just have to be the one to take the first step, you know?" He counseled.
She felt her jaw lock in anger, before she spat, "He wants to have dinner with me."
"Good!"
His optimism at that offer pissed her off.
"Why not?" Finn asked as if it was perfectly reasonable.
His obliviousness as to why she might not want to burned her even more.
"Hmm, let me see, why not?" She tried to keep her sarcasm at bay, "my first question is going to go something like, 'where the fuck have you been for the last… I don't know… 20 years or so.'"
Finn encouraged, to her surprise, "If you want to yell, then yell."
She finished her thought, "because there is no response to that, if you want to be around, you be around."
Finn kept trying to convince her, "then, let him have it."
"And then I'm going to want to beat his ass with his shiny fucking saxophone and then BreadStix will ban me for life, and then what am I gonna do!?"
Finn chuckled, "I'll get Kurt to make you homemade breadsticks, seriously, the breadsticks there taste stale anyway."
She exaggerated her anger at his comment, "do not start up the great breadstick debate of 2010, Hudson!" She warned, "I have no qualms about wiping the floor with you, again!"
"Oh, I concede," Finn mock surrendered, before turning all gooey naïve boy, "seriously, just hear him out. What have you got to lose?"
"Oh, I say, start to think he's a decent guy, and then he pikes on me!"
"You seem pretty well-guarded to me," Finn treaded very carefully now, "He'll have to chip away at you very slowly before he'll get anywhere near your heart."
She scoffed.
He reminded her, "and if the worst comes to the worst, you still have me."
"Not if Mr Schue castrates you first."
Finn was slow to think of a comeback. He sounded gutted, "I don't think he's ever going to forgive me." He wanted her to say something reassuring.
"It might blow over…" She didn't sound convincing at all.
"You think?"
Damn his hope. She added, "before global warming."
He wasn't amused, "Low blow."
"Too soon?" It clearly is.
Finn chose to focus on her problem instead, "Do you want me to go with you to… mediate if need be?"
She sighed, "No." She knew she needed to go alone.
"You don't have to go," he reminded her, "but aren't you curious?"
"I don't know, why bother now?" She was indifferent more than mad, "I've already got one shit father, I don't see how having two is going to improve things."
"Oh, um, my mom is kind of trying to, you know, pin you down for dinner with us," he broached the subject far more awkwardly than intended, "can I tell her Thursday?"
"Oh, fuck!" How about… after hell freezes over.
Finn launched into a reassurance pep talk, "It'll be fine, Kurt's cooking some fancy four-course French fusion thing, and Burt and my mom are totally cool, it won't be like your house."
"Can't you just get me out of it," annoyed that her voice sounded like she was pleading.
"That's really not going to fly, seriously," He did his best to convince her, "you sit, you eat, it's not that hard, they already know a fair bit, no one is expecting you to pretend to be someone you're not."
"I just don't know how much more 'nice Santana' I have left."
"It's kind of our last chance before nationals," He reminded her, but tried not to make her feel too pressured, "totally low key, seriously, no one is going to attack you."
Fuck!
He never asks me for anything.
Fine. She set some ground rules, "But, if Berry fucking weasels her way into this dinner… swear to God…"
"No Rachel."
"Good."
They said goodbye and Santana spent the evening driving around and trying to clear her head. She just didn't want to be with Finn's happy family tonight. Even though he probably needed her, since Mr Schue was basically his dad.
)))))))))))
Finn didn't get home until well after nine. Santana was nowhere. He was starting to worry, but figured she just needed some time and space. And then he ran into Rachel coming out of the bathroom.
He greeted her with, "I thought we talked about this."
Rachel was taken aback that he wasn't pleased at the situation, "their re-doing the plumbing, there's no running water at my house, you can't expect me to stay there." Rachel changed the subject, "what's going on with you and Mr Schue, why does he think you betrayed him?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Finn was feeling a bit annoyed at this point, he in no way suggested she had to stay at her place, just anywhere but here. Santana's going through enough shit as it is, the last thing she needs is Rachel here too. "Stay with Blaine, or Artie or Tina, or Sugar or Joe, seriously."
"Why are you being so mean?" She snapped.
He insisted, "you know why."
"So, Santana doesn't want me here so that's that," Rachel surmised, "you don't defend me. She decides and you follow. Is that it?"
Finn couldn't quite put his finger on why her words pissed him off so bad, but they did. He pushed passed her and avoided her for the rest of the night.
)))))))))))))) SANTANA POV))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Santana had scaled the fence, and climbed up the garage and was busy negotiating the first-floor window, before the bedroom light went on. And then Brittany came into view behind the glass and saw her. Rather than ask her why she was trying to get into her room after midnight on a Monday, Britt simply pushed up the pane and leaned out arm extended.
Love you, Britt.
She'd wedged a foot between the drain pipe and the brick wall and the other on the ledge. She reached out her hand, knowing Britt's would be there to meet her. Her friend, her ex, pulled her inside, and then into a warm hug.
"You Tarzan, me Jayne," Britt joked once Santana had to pull away. "Me happy you didn't break your neck."
Santana smirked.
She launched into a diatribe, "So, Finn contacted my Bio Dad, without asking!" Or did he ask? She was really hazy on that night, damn Sangria!
Brittany waited for whatever was coming. Santana explained that Rolls wanted to have dinner tomorrow night and Finn thought that was just fine and dandy and all she could think about was how badly she wanted to kick his ass, and Finn's ass.
Brittany got back into bed, and held the covers open, "I think you need snuggles."
It was absurd and too sweet to pass up. Santana got under the duvet as the little spoon and felt better once she was wrapped in Brittany's arms.
"He's just always fucking meddling!" She exclaimed.
"Shhh," Britt combed the hair off her face and caressed her cheek.
Santana ranted a bit longer, but Brittany's touch was incredibly soothing. She rested her eyes.
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
The better sleeping arrangement that night, just wound up being the same mattress in Burt's home office with proper pillows and the spare quilt. He texted Santana about it, but she never came home. He tried to call her first thing in the morning, it rang out, but she texted back shortly after, 'I stayed at Britt's house.'
Finn kept staring at the message and couldn't help but be pissed. He'd said as recently as two nights ago, he didn't want her staying there, and especially not without him.
))))))))))))))))) Unique POV )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Unique wound up staying over at the Hudson-Hummels and had explained the hell that was her Monday to Kurt. It was now before school on Tuesday.
"I think you need to go to Figgins," Kurt recommended.
He won't do anything, and then they'll know I squealed. She knew she just couldn't do that, "That'll just make it worse."
"This is serious," Kurt wouldn't let it go, "not only did those boys publicly sexually assault you, but a teacher at this school stood back and let it happen," he sounded incredulous.
Sue always does stuff like that. Unique just wanted to forget all of it.
Kurt kept highlighting, "and then Sue made fun of you, rather than punish them."
"She didn't even want to let me go to the nurse," Unique felt her eyes prickle with tears just recalling it.
Unique knew she couldn't take on Coach Sue. She didn't have the energy. Who was in her corner? Like Marley, and Kurt? Even Mr Schue had told her to 'tone it down'.
Kurt wasn't done with his crusade, "I think you should at least tell your parents what happened."
Unique shook her head in dismay, "They'll just turn this into another argument about how for my safety I need to stop being Unique."
But I am Unique!
Kurt looked disappointed, but clearly was trying not to push too hard, "Do you feel safe going back into that school?"
No. She was dreading gym class more than usual. And the stares in the hallways, and the gossip.
He continued to urge, "We have to do something."
"There's this other thing…" Unique took a deep breath. She just needed to get this off her chest.
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Tuesday was less bad than Monday. But there was laughing and whispers and a bit of pointing too. And she just wished she was invisible. But she made it to 4 pm. And Kurt was sitting next to her, with his arm around her for support, which was really sweet. Marley was on her other side, with Jake next to her, and she couldn't help but watch the door waiting for Ryder. She hadn't messaged him as Katie, not now, she was too upset.
There was tension between Rachel and Finn. Finn was disengaged and sitting at the back of the Choir Room like he didn't care. Rachel had declared herself Mr Schue's replacement, though Unique didn't remember anyone agreeing to that. Brittany and Santana were sitting together and both Sam and Finn seemed miffed about it.
"Dreams should be about going after what you want, and not letting anything stop you," Rachel announced, after writing, 'Funny Girl' on the board. "Now is the perfect opportunity to pay homage to Broadway, Fanny Brice has been told that she isn't beautiful enough to make it on Broadway, but she proves all those nay-sayers wrong when she makes it, and becomes the greatest star."
"I think we should let the club put forward songs they'd like to sing," Kurt suggested, "since we are doing things differently."
"I've written some original songs," Marley gallantly spoke up, "I don't have a specific one about dreams but I have one about underdogs banding together…"
"Our own songs, versus the songwriting genius of the world's best artists, no, no way, that's suicide," Kitty stomped on Marley's idea.
"I don't think we should dismiss Marley out of hand," Jake defended her, "how about she sings her best, most, dream-relevant song, and then we can all vote on it."
"We need to have other suggestions that are competing for potential spots," Artie argued.
"But the voting thing sounds good," Sam agreed.
Unique summoned every ounce of her courage, "I think we should interpret the meaning of dreams more broadly, like societal change."
"I really like that idea," Joe nodded his head, "it should be about changing the world for the better, those types of dreams, not just individual drive to succeed."
Unique knew all she could do was try, "I think we should do 'A change is gonna come,' by Sam Cooke. It became famous during the civil rights struggle."
"The civil rights struggle has been and gone," Sugar pointed out. "Black people can vote now."
Jake was unimpressed, "And now we have the New Jim Crow Laws and the War on Drugs, when the state doesn't just outright murder us like Troy Davis."
"This is Ohio, most of us aren't Black," Sugar argued, less than tactfully.
Blaine added, "In that same vain, I would like to do Queen's 'I want to break free'."
Ryder was unimpressed, "You just want to do Queen so you'll get a solo."
Tina came to Blaine's defense, "'I want to Break Free' was an anthem of the women's liberation movement, and that since we are doing things differently, how about we start with showcasing more voices. Why does one person have to dominate the entire song?"
Sam agreed, "I second that."
"So do I," Artie backed them up.
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) SANTANA POV )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Santana made sure she was late to BreadStix, to make an entrance and make him wait for her, total powerplay. Desmond Ortega Junior. Rolls, whatever, was sitting in the booth, and had already ordered himself a drink.
He was smartly dressed, like he'd gone to some effort, he was somewhat suave, for a half-way to geriatric anyway. He stood when she arrived at the table, but then shaking hands was too impersonal and hugging was far too personal, they were strangers and yet they shouldn't have been. They just sort of faced each other and stood gawkily, neither making any gesture that involved contact in the end.
"Aren't you a beauty," He commented, upon giving her the once over.
Awkward!
He gestured for her to sit, and he was quick to busy himself with the BreadStix menu.
"What's your poison."
Did he forget? She decided to take advantage of it. "Bacardi, with Coke."
He nodded, got the older blonde waitress' attention and ordered for her.
His eyes were the thing that caught her attention. Like hers. He looked the same and yet different to last time. Her memory had probably played tricks since she'd only really seen him the one time, the first time when she was really little, she could remember that day, because of how… life-altering it all was, but he was just a blurry thing that didn't quite have a shape to her kindergartner self. Jazz magazines just recycled the same ten out-of-date pictures of him.
"How long have you and your boy been a thing?" He asked, trying to get the ball rolling.
"Not that long," She admitted.
He seemed surprised. "He seems to really care about you."
She smiled sadly at that, "Yeah he does."
"Tell me about you," Rolls requested.
Just like that.
She didn't say that much. The abridged version. A little about what she was doing now. Maybe she felt like the answers to those questions about her life had to be earned, and he was coming up a long way short. She had professional questions she would ask of him, maybe. Because he was as far as she could see, Rolls was someone who had succeeded in their pursuit. He dreamed of being a jazz musician and he was, his was a well-respected band. He was making a decent living out of it, travelling around.
"I'm sure you've got lots of questions," He began tentatively, "how much has your mother told you?"
"About what?" Where you've been? Why she won't talk about you? Who you are? How she met you?
"About us."
She shook her head. He seemed surprised.
Santana took a stab at an explanation, "I think it was one of my father's conditions for taking her back."
Rolls observed, "that sounds… controlling."
He is controlling.
To think Santana knew more about Rolls Ortega off the pages of Blue Note. Mami was great in so many ways, but about him, she just requested she didn't ask. And abuela couldn't say his name without spitting. She was curious. She'd decided to hold the yelling until she had actually learned some stuff.
The wait staff came back and they ordered. She got creamy pasta, and he ordered steak.
"We met in San Juan. She was 17," He began his narrative, "most beautiful girl I ever saw, and her voice… out of this world."
Santana didn't know they went back that far. Her mother had had her when she was 30. And she'd left the band at 22.
He pulled out a picture to show her, it was old and a bit faded and creased around the edges, but it was them alright. She had her arm around him and they were both at some kind of night out. She took it from him to examine it more closely.
"It's is from La Campechada… long time ago," he informed her.
They look so young… and happy.
"I grew up poor, in a rough neighborhood, yadda yadda, don't trouble yourself about that," He said, "I did manage to land myself in one of those homes for troubled boys." There was something distant about how he recalled it, but like he could find some fondness for it too, "I didn't finish my education, by the time I got out of the reform school, I didn't see the point. Music was for me."
"I know this," She interrupted, "I want to know the stuff I can't read off the pages of Blue Note."
Rolls smiled broadly, showing a beautiful set of straight white teeth. "As you wish." He nodded at her, "in the first few years of the band, we were purely instrumental Latin Jazz, I'll never forget, we were playing at The Riviera, on a week night, and I'm blowing my heart out, this cover of 'Motherless Child', and your mother just jumped up on stage with us and started singing."
That made her smile, because it was hard to reconcile that story with her mom now.
"She was… unforgettable, and the crowd… they were enthralled by her, same as I was. And before we got to the end of the set, she'd disappeared."
His face became really animated.
"We didn't know who she was, but I tracked her down, turned out, she was still in high school and had snuck out of her Mami's house that night."
Santana couldn't help but laugh about that, Mami and abuela occasionally made reference to her 'wild child' ways but Santana hadn't seen much evidence of it to date.
Curiosity got the better of her, "How did you find her again?"
"I asked around, someone that talented has usually been noticed on the music scene, but she'd managed to stay under the radar," He shook his head, his ears twitched, "I tried music programs at the colleges, I thought it was hopeless, and then it occurred to me," He smiled broadly as if proud of himself just thinking on it, "the only other place you might get experience like that would be church."
His face lit up as he spoke of her, "So, I began to check out a lot of local services as did my band mates, and when I finally ran into her, she was in her Sunday best flanked by her Mami, and her little sister. Beautiful Catholic Church not far from where we played the gig that night."
Santana had been there. She knew the church of which he spoke, and it was beautiful.
He smiled again, looking far away, "Needless to say, I didn't leave without getting her name and address," He recalled, swirling his whisky, "And then I sort of hung around, until I could convince her to join our band."
Santana asked her burning question, "when did you guys become a thing?"
He would have been 21, or 22 by then. Her father was 10 years older than her mother, but he hadn't met her until she was 21.
"Not long after your mother became our lead singer."
"Were you happy?" She asked before inwardly admonishing herself, what does it matter? Call it a child's fantasy that they want to think that their parents were in love at some point.
"Happiest I've ever been," He admitted fondly, "That's when I wrote my best music."
"How long were you together?" She just couldn't stop herself now.
"Next four years," Rolls reflected fondly, holding his glass up, as if to cheers an invisible glass. She made no move to meet him half way. He then took a long swallow of the amber liquid, "though, admittedly we blew a bit hot and cold," He smiled knowingly, "nothing worth everything ever comes easy."
That didn't sound like her parents' marriage at all. Other than the huge fight and separation when she was a kid, they were boring and not that affectionate. Not like, in a bad way, they just weren't touchy feely.
She just couldn't help herself, "Did you want to marry her?" What is the point of 'what if' now? It's done and dusted.
He seemed thrown by her question, taking his time, "Not back then, I wasn't the marrying kind."
"Did you ever meet… Manuel?" She asked, it didn't feel right calling her father that, but this whole context was a little weird.
"I know he first saw her from attending one of our gigs," He admitted, becoming flustered, "we were off at the time."
Interesting. Is that guilt?
"Once she and him got serious, she left the band," Rolls looked dismayed, before adding an afterthought, "I was never formally introduced to him."
Interesting.
"It wasn't the same after that. We got another singer, but there was no replacing Maribel Castillo."
He sounds in love with her still. She wasn't expecting that. "If she was everything, then why did you break up?"
He grinned, "short answer?" He shrugged, "I was an idiot, that's why."
"What did you do?" Santana asked, before guessing, "or was it who you were doing?"
He nodded, "I did a bit of womanizing back then, I drank a bit too much, partied harder than just with booze, you name it, I've done it, worn the T-shirt," He wasn't so much full of regret, as just owning his shit, and she could respect that.
"So, basically, you're a prick, and she was right to leave you," Santana concluded, not letting him off the hook in the slightest.
He really stared at her after that. Offended in all likelihood. He didn't get angry or go to leave. He swirled his drink in his hand, adding as an afterthought, "but people learn, and they grow…" He took a long swallow of whisky, "and they change."
Santana wasn't feeling forgiving of anything, "but she was everything to you, she reminded him of his words from a few minutes ago, "so what did you do to try and win her back?"
He weighed up his answer, settling on, "Nothing in the end. She chose him."
"You said you two had already split."
"We were never really done, even when we were split. We'd fight and break up one week, and be madly in love the next, we were young, and spontaneous," He looked far away, "artists are like, we live hard, love hard."
She just felt annoyed, but she could put her finger on why. Focus! She wanted to know, "How did the affair come about?"
He looked down, ashamed, "that was much later. She'd been married a few years, had a couple kids, and moved to the states, we'd lost all contact."
Santana chewed on one of the breadsticks from the vase on the table.
"I'd moved here myself, the band was starting to really take off," He looked really proud, "mostly bouncing between L.A., New York, and New Orleans."
"I tracked her down."
"How?"
"Whenever I was back in San Juan, I'd attend her church and ask after her. Someone always knew something, I heard she'd settled in Ohio."
Santana waited for further explanation.
"Not that many Manuel Lopez's enrolled in med schools in Ohio, it wasn't hard."
The affair would have been very early 1993. Her father was 31 when he met her mother, and was still working his way through night school pre-med, working some dead-end job by day. They'd married and had the boys before they had moved to the United States, when he got offered a place in medical school. But he'd had to take some English courses first, and by the time he was interning at a hospital it was years later. Languages were not his strong suit, he was pure math and science. He become an American-qualified doctor the year after she was born. And then he'd started a residency.
Rolls was still speaking, "I'd missed her, I regretted not fighting harder for her."
So, you knew she was married and did it anyway. But then again, Mami knew she was married too. Who'd want to be married to him though!
"How did it happen?" She asked.
"Life was hard, she was unhappy," He shrugged, taking another long swallow of whisky, "And I was never happy unless I was with her."
Santana couldn't help but interrogate him, "Who broke it off?"
"She did."
"Did you know she was pregnant when the affair ended?" She asked. Did you deliberately turn your back on me?
He looked at her intensely for a long while, as if considering whether or not to tell her the truth, "yes."
She got what she needed.
"You're a piece of shit." She got up and went to leave, but turned back to give him a piece of her mind.
He grabbed her wrist to stop her, "she almost left him for me. You weren't planned," He freely admitted, but she kind of didn't need anyone to tell her that, "I wanted her to leave him, for us to be a family, your brothers' too."
She yanked her arm away from him, crossing them in front of her chest. Santana hadn't heard this part, "and?"
"And," he repeated, "she chose him. I don't know why. Got scared? He was the safe bet."
Santana didn't believe it, "She almost left him for you?"
"We were sneaking around for the better part of six months, he was studying and working, it wasn't that hard to hide it from him."
Santana had no idea the affair had been that long. She'd honestly thought it was a single lapse in judgement on her mother's part, momentarily lost to passion and that's how she'd happened.
He nodded, "I got an apartment for us in Cleveland, we were going to live there together. She actually did leave him," Rolls checked her for a reaction.
What?
He went on, "for about three days, then she got cold feet and went back."
"I've never heard this," Santana felt confused. "That doesn't make sense, if she'd left my father back then, he would have known about the affair, or at least that something was up." He didn't!
"I don't know how she smoothed it over with him then," Rolls was perplexed, "but I'm pretty sure he didn't know."
Santana was certain The Good Doctor didn't know about the affair until years later. Not until that day when she was five and Rolls had shown up and wanted to see her. That was the moment the shit hit the fan. One minute she was Daddy's Little Girl and the next Papi was packing his stuff and he couldn't even look at her. Her family was broken and it was all her fault.
And then they'd moved to that really shitty apartment, Cockroach Inn they'd nicknamed it. She'd had to share a room with Mami and abuela. The boys had the other room. And Mami was stressed and angry all the time, and Carlito and Angel hated her for ruining everything. They began to call her 'garbage face'. At least abuela was her saving grace. For the next two years she must have spent more time in the principal's office than in class she got in so many fights and mouthed off to so many teachers.
Santana felt her chest getting really heavy, "Why didn't you make an effort?" She asked, "to see me."
He looked really fucking guilty then. "She didn't want me in your life."
Bullshit! "Why?"
He shrugged.
That wasn't good enough. Her mother was a rational person, she wouldn't just keep him away from her for no reason.
He threw out, "Maybe, that was another one of his conditions."
It very well could have been.
And then she just felt so fucking mad about the whole thing. How could they do that to her? Rob her of her real father. It was one thing between them and their marriage, but she had a right to know him, have a relationship with him.
"Can we meet up again?" He asked, "I don't leave until Friday afternoon, it's only for a week, I can come back after."
He was sweetly hopeful.
"I'd like that," It just sort of fell out of her mouth.
"I want to hear you sing," Rolls smiled charmingly.
"Okay."
Santana finished two Bacardi's and barely ate her pasta, and felt a little wobbly once she finally left the restaurant. The whole exchange was bothering her. Not only hadn't she yelled at him, but she just felt worse about everything in general. She needed to talk to her mom. She should have forced the truth out of her long before this. There seemed to be so much more to this story than she'd ever dared hope. She wasn't the result of a one-night stand between ex's that she'd been led to believe.
She just had so many questions now. Nothing was simple.