Finn

It seems like almost a lifetime since I've been back in my hometown of Lima. I can still name all of the streets, and see all of the signs greeting me and welcoming me back home as we pass them by. I remember driving down them as if it was yesterday: 16, Rachel in the passenger seat of my Ford Ranger, barely old enough to even have a driver's license let alone be that in love with a girl. From the rear-view mirror, I see Annalise open her eyes, the expression across them growing wider, as she glances out of the window. Her face says it all: she is confused about where we can possibly be, however, as soon as she sees the landmarks that her mother and I used to talk about back home, I see a smile spread across her face. She clutches the gold star pendant hanging from her neck to ensure that her mom is with her here in this moment. I focus my attention out of the window as well and take in downtown Lima and all of it's glory. The oak and maple trees have the same dark hue of green on their leaves as they did when I was here the last time, displaying to all that it is still summertime in this small Ohio town. The streets are buzzing with teenagers and their friends, finalizing their Friday evening plans. Under the Sheets is nestled on its own little slice of a corner, with The Lima Bean not too far away. I can almost taste the awful food as the neon sign for Breadstix soon comes into my view. I can see William McKinley High School passing by the Explorer in a distance and try hard not to think of the many days we had all spent there together. Every place here reminds me of Rachel. Without her here, it just feels like some creepy episode of The Twilight Zone.

"How could you grow up here again?" Anna asks, her eyes becoming wider with each inch Kurt drives.

"You get used to it after awhile," Kurt interjects, as he merges into the left-hand turn lane. "In time, it all just blends together." The only noise heard inside of the SUV is the clicking of the turn signal and the ebbs and flows of traffic on the main streets. Blaine had turned the music off awhile ago, thinking the silence would be the best thing for us right now.

"How much further is it to the house?" I hear Annalise ask. It's the first words that she has truly spoken to any of us directly in nearly an hour, since we stopped at the rest stop to grab coffee before the US-30 interchange.

"About two minutes," Blaine says, answering the question for me. "Are you guys hungry? I knew we should have stopped and got something to eat."

"No," she laughs, looking down at her phone. "I'm okay. My legs are just beginning to cramp up a little bit."

"Two more minutes won't kill you," I say back to her.

"I was just saying," she replies, rolling her eyes. "And you wonder why I'm so quiet all of the time, dad. Every time I do, you always have a smartass reply for everything that I say, even if it's just a simple statement."

"Well then how about I just keep my mouth shut?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," she replies.

"Oh, guys come on. Please stop. I don't want either of you fighting with each other this weekend, okay?" Kurt asks.

"Why not? That's what he's best at: fighting with people. That's all he and mom ever did."

"Annalise," Blaine says, turning to my daughter from the passenger seat. "Let me just say this before we make it to the house. Like it or not, this man is the only parent that you have left. I will be damned if I am going to sit here and listen to you talk to him like you are some rich, spoiled brat — like you are better than everyone else. You were not raised like that and I will not tolerate that kind of behavior in our home. Do you understand me?"

Annalise is stunned. Blaine had caught her off guard with that statement. Her mouth is completely open, almost as if she is going to say something, but no words form. She picks her jaw off of the ground, and just nods her head in reply, as Kurt pulls into the driveway of their three-story home.

Kurt and Blaine live in Lima Newburgh, which is one of the subdivisions connected to downtown. Their house is breathtaking; and I normally don't use that word lightly. I normally don't notice things like houses and stuff but theirs is truly... just wow. I haven't been here since they purchased the place. Kurt and Blaine moved back to Ohio about five years ago, when Kurt was offered a job designing costumes for Playhouse Square in Cleveland. They spent a lot of their time apart from each other, and when Kurt gained seniority to mostly work from home, they jumped at the chance to buy their first property — that was bigger than a shoebox — together.

"Pretty marvelous, huh?" Kurt asks, as he helps Annalise out of the backseat.

"It's beautiful," she smiles. "I love it."

I didn't put anything above them. Even the simplest task of buying a home was something that they excelled in. The gray vinyl siding stands out amongst the white accenting trim and shutters and matches the cobblestone driveway. The door is painted a cherry red color and held to pull together their wrap-around porch, which is adorned with an accenting white porch swing. Their landscaping looks to be done professionally, and the yellow daffodils and coral lilies highlight the evergreen shrubs.

"Make yourselves at home," Blaine says, as he unlocks the door and leads us into the foyer. The exterior of the home does not do the interior justice. I knew that most of the decor was Kurt's doing. I can still hear my step-father's voice ringing in my ears for the time that I called one of Kurt's handpicked lamps faggy. "You guys haven't been here yet, so, we will give you the grand tour of the place," Blaine states, as he removes his shoes and places them on the shoe-rack by the front door. "Most of the first floor is open concept. The living room is right there and the kitchen isn't too far behind." The first floor was mostly occupied by just the kitchen, dining room, and the living room; all of which I'm sure required them to knock down walls to design the floor plan. The walls in the living room were painted an eggshell white color. "Kurt calls it frost," is what Blaine had told us. There were beautiful hardwood floors throughout, which had gone through minimal wear and tear over the past few years. The furniture was placed so precisely; there didn't seem to be a thing out of place. A gray microfiber sectional sofa took up half of the floor plan, while a stone fireplace took up the other. A plasma screen television — "Blaine insists on watching his sports and well, I like to spoil him," — was mounted above the hearth, while pictures of our little makeshift family sat on the mantle.

"You still have my baby picture?" Annalise asks, as she sets her Michael Kors purse down on the couch and shuffles over to the fireplace. "Oh my gosh. Look at all of that hair!" she squeals. "And mom..." she says, her voice trailing off. "Oh, I love this picture so much," she says, holding it to her chest.

"I have an extra copy of it around here somewhere for you," Blaine smiles.

I meet Anna at the fireplace and take the picture frame from her hand. I had never seen this picture before. "When was this taken?" I ask both men. Anna I'm sure was way too young to remember. She doesn't look more than a week or so old in the photograph.

"It was when Rachel came home from the hospital with her," Kurt begins. "Sam had decided that we needed to have a party to welcome the newest member of the family. Rachel was so frantic because it was the first time that she was really alone with her and we were a little frightened too because none of us had no idea how to care for a newborn. It was Rachel's idea to put the soft pink tutu dress on her..."

"And she insisted that you wore those bows in your hair. She didn't care about the outfit, she just wanted to put a bow on you like you were some sort of present."

"I loved them," she says.

I can remember how proud that I felt the moment I found out that I had a daughter — though unfortunately, I met her when she was a toddler. I joined the Army so that I could get away from all of the stresses of home and to prove that I could live up to my biological father's legacy. I needed to finish the job that he couldn't. After meeting Anna, however, and seeing what an amazing mother Rachel was, I decided to embrace my honorary discharge and do something that my father never could: be there for his child.

Next to Anna's baby picture is a picture of Kurt and Blaine on their wedding day. It's hard to believe that they have only been legally married for eight years, when Rachel and I would have been celebrating our fifteenth wedding anniversary this November. There are so many memories plastered on these walls that it is hard to look at all of them as I draw myself away from the mantle of the fireplace. "If these pictures could talk," I smile to both of them.

"We have more," Kurt replies. "We just haven't gotten around to pulling all of them out yet."

My mom and step-father were always the ones that made sure there was a camera around to capture the events in our lives — everything from high school dances to holidays. Back when we were in high school, smart phones hadn't been invented yet, so most of the pictures had been taken on drugstore disposable cameras. They made copies of most of them when we created Rachel's collages for her services several weeks ago. Kurt and Blaine paid the extra fees to make sure that the photo albums were checked on to the plane to ensure that they arrived to New Jersey safely. I take one last glance around the living room, only to notice a few accenting throw pillows and blankets scattered haphazardly throughout, as if they left the house in a hurry and didn't have time to straighten up. A glass coffee table is placed in the middle of the living room floor, on top of a paisley printed throw rug. Upon closer examination however, today's edition of The Plain Dealer is opened to the Arts and Humanities section, and it stops me dead in my tracks as I glance at the title once more, to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me.

Annalise

I think I was the first one to see it. Hell, I saw it even before we walked over to the fireplace. My uncles left it open, obviously to draw our attention to it. In big, bold, italicized font the headline simply read, Local Broadway Star Rachel Hudson-Berry To Be Honored At Playhouse Square's State Theatre Saturday Evening.

I didn't even want to read it. I tried to dance around it as much as possible, which is when I pointed out the baby picture. I had seen it before — I knew that it existed. However, diverting the conversation to anything other than the newspaper article was the best plan of action at that point.

"We were going to put it away. Honest. We didn't want to upset you guys, but we left in such a hurry because Sam was freaking out about not being able to pick you up from the airport..."

"We didn't want to upset you guys. I'm so sorry," Blaine continues.

My dad is silent for a moment. Though I noticed the article first, I wasn't going to be the one to pick it up and read it. It would have made me more upset than I already am. My father is silent as he reads; his eyes dancing over the words on the page written about his doting wife. He's beaming each time he reads her name, almost as if he can still hear her voice inside of his head.

"Do you have any more copies of this?" my dad asks in a hushed tone. Those were not the words that I was expecting to come out of his mouth, however, I'm glad that he chose them.

Kurt smiles for a moment, and places his hand on the small of Blaine's back. "We bought every single copy The Lima Bean had."

My father clears his throat, almost as if he is trying to find more words to say to carry on this conversation. "Thank you guys," are the best that he can come up with. My uncles and I give him a moment to collect his thoughts as he says, "can we uh... finish the tour? I'd love to see the rest of the house. It's beautiful, really. You both did such a great job."

"You can thank Rachel," Kurt smiles. "She was there to give input over FaceTime during the renovation process. If it wasn't for her, we never would have made our minds up about the couch and we would still be watching re-runs of The Golden Girls on the living room floor."

"She was always good at those things," I chime in, my voice sounding almost foreign after not speaking for awhile. "Once I was old enough to walk, she changed the entire layout of the apartment in Bushwick. The curtains had to match the couch and the few dozen throw pillows had to be scattered everywhere. She needed to have the perfect appliances in the kitchen and the best electronics in the living room... even if she was never there to enjoy it." I guess I was still a little bitter about her never really being around. Most people believe that regrets and grudges die with the person, but unfortunately, I was not the forgiving type. The fact that she left her family so much to go chase some dream still upset me to this day.

"So.. uh, over here we have the kitchen..." Blaine begins, changing the topic of conversation before it turns into another remembering the good times sob fest. "We do a lot of cooking here."

"Really?" my father asks, his face lighting up. My dad is longing for another home cooked meal — I don't think the casserole was enough for him the other night. I know that we haven't eaten much in the past few weeks, and even less before then. My father used to cook all of the time. My grandmother handed down many recipes to he and my mom, and my dad spent time perfecting each one to the best of his ability. As we continued on with the tour, my mind was all over the place. Every single space of their house was absolutely gorgeous and they had worked so hard to make it into a home. I was beyond jealous that they were able to create a space as wonderful like this in the middle of hick-town.

"Yeah, Blaine prefers to cook dinner, but I bake a lot. We were going to cook for you guys tonight. Unless, of course, you would rather go to Breadstix."

"What in the hell is Breadstix again?" I ask my dad, leaning over to almost whisper in his ear.

"It's this dive of a restaurant we used to go to back in high school."

"The food is absolutely terrible."

"Even the breadsticks."

"Huh," I reply, taking a deep breath to marvel at the rest of the kitchen. They had it made here. Every appliance from the stove to the dishwasher was stainless steel — and high-end, top of the line, at that. Their refrigerator was some sort of new thing called a smart fridge that let you know when something was out and you had to put it on your grocery list! My uncles had this beautiful, marble island that wrapped around the middle of the space and like typical American suburbia, had a covered chocolate cake sitting on the counter. It looked mouthwatering.

"It's chocolate cassata," Kurt says, as he sees my eyes now drawn away from the weird fridge to the dessert taunting me on the counter. My mom always said the lights on Broadway add fifteen pounds. I'm sure it was some lie that one of her directors told her back in the day. My father had said to be pleasant, and it was taking every ounce of strength in me not to look for a knife and begin to cut the cake. Even a fork would do right now. I can taste all of the flavors of it dancing around in my mouth and at this moment, lights on Broadway and the extra fifteen pound myth be damned. "I know it's your favorite."

"Thank you," I reply, smiling at him. It meant so much that he remembered. It was eons ago when he first made it. He had goofed on accident and mixed chocolate chips in with the batter — cassata is typically a white cake — and ever since then, his accident has resulted in a once in awhile craving. No one makes it as good as he does, and I was so happy that he remembered such a small detail from a birthday party almost thirteen years ago.

"You're welcome," he replies. "So... upstairs first or outside?"

"Doesn't matter. It's your call," Blaine says.

"Outside?" my dad says, his statement sounding more like a question. Kurt sashays over to the far-end of the kitchen and opens up the sliding glass door, leading us out onto the wooden deck that sits off the side of the house. It sits on a nice amount of land — it had to at least be three acres. It was completely fenced in. The backyard housed a wrap around bar, complete with a pizza oven, a smoker, and a gas grill — perfect for outdoor barbecues in the four months that Ohio has nice weather. There was a hot tub that sat on the far end of the fence, under a wooden pergola. The same flowers that were in the front yard stretched out into the backyard, complete with a small garden a few feet away. There was a gazebo and a fire pit area with Adirondack chairs. Small, twinkling lights hung from almost every inch of available over-head space. The Ohio cerulean sky really helped to pull everything together. I can't help but think how much hard work and time were put into this — and seeing it as something that they had, compared to when they lived in New York, made me so happy for them. They deserved it. I couldn't think of two people, actually, who deserved it more.

"We were thinking about installing a pool but didn't want to change the entire layout of the space," Kurt says, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe next year. It's too late into the season now."

"Puck actually installs them," Blaine tells us, as the look on his face turns from excited to concerned — I can tell he regretted the words as soon as he said them.

"What's he up to these days?" my father asks, as we head back inside. His face falls as soon as the familiar name escapes his lips: a cue that there is more to this person than my father is telling me.

"Puck?" I ask Blaine, as we fall behind my father and uncle Kurt.

"He's just this guy we went to high school with... he was in the glee club with us," Blaine tells me, wanting to leave it at just that.

Not me, however. I wanted to know who this mysterious person was. "I don't think I've ever met him."

"You haven't. He was your father's best friend."

"Wait a minute... I thought Sam was my dad's best friend?"

"He is... but, Puck was first. They haven't spoken in a long time..."

"Why not?" I ask, a little curious.

"It's a long story," Blaine says, as he places his hands on my shoulders and leads me inside. "He didn't even come to..."

"Blaine!" Kurt exclaims, as giving him the death stare. "This is one of those things that we talked about not bringing up, remember?"

"He was just your dad's best friend from high school. They lost touch. That's all," Blaine says, leaving it at that.

I didn't want to ask any more questions for fear of pissing him off. I was already on his shit list, I assumed, for my comments in the SUV earlier. I turn to face him, as my small frame quivers as my eyes meet his. "I wanted to apologize for earlier. I was completely out of line, and..."

"It's okay, sweetheart. I promise. I wasn't upset. I don't like getting mad at you or yelling at you... it's like the worst part of being an uncle."

"I know," I say, hanging my head a bit. "It's just..."

"You don't have to explain anything to me. Just know, that I was close to your mom as well. It's still painful for me to think about her being gone. But you and your dad know that we love you and we're here for you, whenever you need us, to help you both get through this. It's not going to be easy. However, I know from experience of losing a parent, that one day when you think about her you're going to smile and your heart will feel so full because you had her in your life. That is what keeps me going when I think about my dad... and your mom now, too."

"How do you always know the right thing to say?" I ask in a whisper-like tone, wiping a stray tear away from my eye.

"Because, I'm your uncle. That's the fun part about being your uncle. I get to give you all of this great advice because I've been with you since you were in diapers doing summersaults all over the furniture in our apartment. I have seen you grow up into this beautiful, young woman. I had to prepare for what was coming and I wanted to make sure I always knew when to say the right thing."

"I love you. And I am so thankful that we don't have to go through this weekend alone."

"I love you too, Lise. We all have to get through it together," he smiles. "Come on. Let me show you to your sleeping quarters," Blaine replies, as he turns me around and grabs my hand, leading me up the staircase. "You look like you're about to nod off any moment."

"No, no. I'm not. I want to make sure that I can spend as much time with you guys as possible since we can't fake car trouble this time... being an adult sucks. I'm just happy we decided to come."

"I'm happy that you did, too."

"So, do you think she's looking down on you and I right now or my dad and uncle Kurt?"

"Probably us," Blaine smiles. "He might have been her other half, but I'm talking to her world."

Finn

I can't pretend like I didn't see the article.

I don't know why I'm back there while everyone else is talking about dinner, but I am. It was beautifully written and they did a great job of including segments from her life-story in there, but it still didn't seem like it was enough. After seeing that article, today just went back to feeling like this never-ending nightmare that I couldn't manage to wake myself up from.

The entire ride back home from the airport, I tricked my mind into making me think Anna and I were just taking this trip to get away from the city for the weekend. The thought of Rachel being gone didn't cross my mind until I saw the high school, and could point out the wall for the choir room from the passenger seat. And then it went away. And then, it hit me again out of that blue with that stupid fucking article...

"Finn?"

"Huh?"

"Sam's on his way home," Kurt smiles. "You want to hold up that sign? You can write on the back with Sharpie if you'd like to."

"I was thinking about it, and then I also thought about just running to him when he came through the door."

"Like a puppy?" Kurt asks, furrowing his brow. A small laugh escapes his confused lips.

"You've really missed him, huh?" Blaine asks, as he continues to chop the bell peppers for the scallop and pasta dish that he was creating.

"So much," I reply. "Not that I don't love you guys. But Sam..."

"It's a bro-mance. I get it. No need to explain," Kurt laughs.

"Anna, do you want to learn how to make this?" Blaine calls into the living room. "The trick to any guy's heart is cooking, I promise. How do you think I scored your uncle?"

I shake my head. "I think she's checked out. She was exhausted. I'm sure she's fast asleep."

Blaine sighs. "Not getting any easier?"

I shake my head once more. "No, not really."

"I mean, it has to be hard for you too, right?" Kurt asks.

"Absolutely," I reply. "But I have to be strong for her, ya know? This school year is going to be extremely tough, and now she has to deal with the loss of her mom months before she has to put on this fake smile and start her first year of college?" I exhale sharply. "I don't think that she should go back right now. I mean, what does she do... move back into her little apartment that she can barely afford? I just think that whole town is poison for her."

"Doesn't she love New York?" Blaine asks. "Isn't she enrolled in NYU and doing this job in the admissions office? She worked really had to get into that theatre program, right? Didn't she get in on the first try? I mean Rachel nor Kurt could even get into NYADA on their first try..."

"Thanks honey," Kurt whispers.

I snort a little as I laugh. "Yeah, she did. She worked really hard to get into that school, but I don't know. Her heart just isn't in it. She's been trying to find any excuse to get out of New Jersey for the past few years. The only reason that New York and theatre were ever an option for her is because that's all she knows. I think she did it to be close to me though. I think she has this pre-conceived notion that she has to take care of me or something. I just want her to love her life and be happy. I had my life. I found my soulmate. It's time for her to do what's best for her. And I don't think that's New York. I don't think that's best for her." I take a sip of the beer that I had been nursing for the past twenty minutes. It's warm as the liquid flows down my throat, and something that normally tastes delicious tastes absolutely vile.

"Finn, this is serious. Yes, it's okay to be there for your daughter and yes, it's okay to support whatever decision she makes. You absolutely should be. And guess what? It's okay for her to want to take care of you, too. All of us are..." Blaine says, as Kurt clears his throat. "Genuinely concerned about you and your well-being. But maybe it's not Lise who New York is poisonous for. Maybe it's you."

"Yeah," I say, as I snort again.

"I mean, Finn, think about it. You want her to live with you so that you can have someone to rely on, just like you did Rachel. I talked to Anna before she applied to schools. She considered a lot down here... she talked about you guys moving down... but in the end, she chose NYU because she was offered a scholarship plus room and board fees... which I know doesn't cover the whole cost of that downtown apartment..."

"We had the same conversations, guys. She wanted to stay in New York to be close to me."

"She wanted to stay there because it's what Rachel wanted her to do. Rachel has groomed that girl from the time that she was old enough to open her mouth and sing. Anna is just like her mom. She loves to work hard and she loves being in the spotlight. She can't do that here in Lima. She can do it in New York. But Lima will chew up all of that talent and spit her right out."

"And New York won't? What about her recovery? What about her bi..."

"New York has some of the best mental health facilities in the country, God forbid something like what happened last year ever happens again. Which, from my reading it will... but at least she will be in good hands. I think you're afraid to let her go. You just lost Rachel and I think you're afraid of being alone. The moment she wants to move back into her tiny little apartment you're going to hold her back, just like you always have. And just like you tried to do with your wife."

"I'm not afraid of being alone," I tell them. "I'm just afraid that my daughter is going to get sick again."

"She will always be sick, Finn," Blaine says sympathetically. "She's always going to be bipolar. There's no cure for her mental illness. But pulling her out of New York and sticking her in that house in Jersey that you shared with her and your dead wife doesn't help her illness, either."

"Anna is still the same Anna that she's always been. Annalise has her life — she is eighteen years old and she is doing amazing for her age. She has a job, and she's going to school, and she's becoming responsible... I never in a million years would have thought that she would be where she is now. She was on the cusp of not even graduating high school a few years ago. And now look at her. And just because she has her own life and she is doing so well doesn't mean that you forget about yourself along the way."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"What's your plan, Finn?" Blaine asks, as he takes a sip of his Chardonnay. "Are you going to go back to New Jersey, return to your job at the USPS and continue to live in the home that you and Rachel bought together? Anna lost her mom, sure, but Finn you lost your wife. And I'm sorry, I'm not your real brother and I'm sorry that we're kind of ganging up on you right now but we are worried sick about you, I'm serious. The drinking..."

"What about my drinking?"

"You're drinking a lot, Finn. I can tell when we call. You shouldn't be drunk at 2 in the afternoon and I get it, you just watched your wife lose her battle to cancer. Everyone has their vices and their coping mechanisms but the drinking is becoming too much, Finn."

"I know that I need some help to get myself back on track," I say. "But I still pay my bills, I still take care of my home, and I still make sure that my daughter is taken care of as well. Even though she and you guys think she can take care of herself. You want to know who finished packing her suitcase for her because she was at work? Me. Do you want to know who reminds her take a shower or to make sure she's registered for her classes or that she has all of her books, and clothes, and makes sure she has a lunch every day for work? Me. Who changes the oil in her car and makes sure her EZ Pass has money on it so she can drive into the city..."

"And that is great. No one ever misjudged you as a father, Finn. We just want to make sure you are okay. We know that Anna is okay. She's a strong young woman and she will be just fine with or without you... but have you thought about moving..."

I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. Have I thought about moving back to Lima? Of course I did. I've been trying to leave the east coast for nearly a decade. I couldn't do it now though. I couldn't be more than forty minutes away from my daughter at all times. Rachel made me promise I would look out for our daughter, and it was a promise I had no intentions of breaking.

"Look, I know I'm just the in-law. But I've lived vicariously through you and Rachel for the past... like twenty-four years. You need to think of your future. The pain of losing Rachel will go away one day and then all that's left are these memories that you won't know what to do with. Rachel wanted you to change the world, right? You did that in Iraq. What are you going to do now?"

"Are you saying I should move down to Lima?" I ask, raising my brow. I'm hoping that they'll say something like absolutely, you can move in with us. Come on down.

Instead, Blaine says, "we cannot ask you to give up your life in New Jersey. There was a reason that Rachel didn't move down when we all decided to come home... to Ohio... and though I still to this day don't know what that reason is, I'm putting money on the fact that Rachel wanted to see Anna happy, and New York City makes her the happiest. She could have went anywhere for school — there's theatre schools across the country. We begged for her to go to Cleveland State. Their theatre program is amazing and she would have worked directly with Playhouse Square. But New York is what she knows. It's where her heart is. But I think your heart is here. In Ohio."

"You have to put yourself first," Kurt interjects. "I know that's hard for you because the three of you have always taken care of each other. Right now though, you have to think about what's best for you. I know that you can learn how to take care of yourself. You're used to either someone taking care of you or you taking care of them. We get it. The rest will fall into place sooner or later. You have nothing to be ashamed of or humiliated about. No one is allowed to pass judgement onto you right now, or ever. Don't make any sort of rash decisions either. They say not to make any in your first year since your mind and grief are all over the place."

"Thanks guys," I say, as I finish off the last of my Budlight. "I know that you guys can be harsh with the way you love sometimes, but I appreciate it. I think the best thing to do when we go home Monday is to make a plan and decide what's going to be best for me."

"Whatever you decide, we're here to support you," Kurt says, as he finishes off the last of his wine.

"Thank you," I tell them both, as I grab another beer from the fridge and sit back down at the kitchen island.

"Speaking of plans..." Kurt says, abruptly changing the subject. "I have to have the itinerary for the mem... celebration of life over to my supervisor by midnight. Has Anna decided what song she's going to sing?"

The idea of getting on stage and singing a song tomorrow for Rachel's thing was still a sore subject between Anna and myself. I had brought it up a few times in passing conversations, including this morning while she choked down a stale granola bar that she found hidden in a kitchen cupboard, but we had gotten nowhere. Her response was that she would just see how she feels and then go from there. When I told her that it would not suit well with the plan that her uncle Kurt was developing, she told me that she would maybe consider it but she wasn't doing it alone. I had been trying to come up with songs for her and I to sing for the past few days, but nothing had come to mind. I didn't want to make a whole ordeal about what tomorrow night was going to be. I knew some people would be singing, maybe some people would be speaking... I had never been to something like this before so I didn't know quite what to expect. At this exact moment, as I was two shots of Jack Daniels and three Budlights deep, I elected that I just maybe was going to be an audience member, whether that was an asshole move of me or not.

"What are you doing, sleeping?!" I can hear a familiar voice ask, as I hear footsteps make their way from the foyer into the living room, scaring my daughter half to death.

"Go away!" I hear Annalise yell jokingly, watching as she places the throw blanket over her head.

"You can't be sleeping already! I just got here and I haven't even gotten a hug yet."

"Really, uncle Sammy?"

"Yes, Anny Bananny," he laughs, as she yawns loudly. Annalise gets off of the couch and gives him a huge hug, wrapping her arms completely around him. He kisses her on the forehead as she takes a seat back in her spot on the couch, opening her phone to see if she has any mixed text messages or social media notifications.

"Honey, I'm home!" Sam shouts, as he makes his way into the kitchen, trying his best at a Ricky Ricardo ala I Love Lucy impression.

"He does this every night," Kurt whispers.

"What, no balloons or anything?" Sam jokes, as he places his briefcase down on the kitchen island. I watch as Blaine scoffs, and tells him to take the briefcase off of the place where food I served. "I thought you'd be welcoming me home tonight with balloons and glitter and all of that jazz."

"It's good to see you, man," I say, as I get off of my chair and make my way over to him to embrace in a very bro-mance type hug.

"It's good to see you too," Sam says, as he kicks his briefcase over to the sliding glass door, as Blaine rolls his eyes. "Blaine, Kurt. Roomies."

"How was work?" Blaine asks, as he begins to dump the spaghetti noodles into the pot of boiling water on the stove.

"It was okay. The first day is always the toughest."

"It was your third day," Kurt says, rolling his eyes as he reaches for an unopened bottle of wine placed a few inches from him on the kitchen island.

"Yeah, but classes start in like two weeks and I haven't even started on a lesson plan yet. I don't know how Mr. Schue did it."

"I think he just winged it most of the time," Blaine laughs.

"Wait... you're teaching at McKinley?" I knew that Sam had landed some sort of teaching job but I didn't know that it was at our old high school. I guess I really have been in a drunken fog since Rachel passed away.

"Anna didn't tell you?"

"I'm sure she did," I sigh.

"I definitely did!" I hear her call out from the living room.

"Yeah, I started on Monday. I didn't have to report on Tuesday or Wednesday, but I've been doing lesson plans and thinking of a set list for sectionals all freaking week."

"Wait, hold on. You're taking over the glee club?"

Sam takes a seat in the chair next to me. He clinks his Budweiser bottle against mine and takes a healthy swig. "I mean, I don't know how he did it. We can't just do country and classic rock all of the time... and I have to do a musical. I'm freaking out. I knew I wasn't cut out for this."

"There's a reason Mr. Schue put you in charge of the New Directions. He saw something in you, Sam. You're going to do great. We're right here too if you need help or suggestions. With the musical, I mean. You're on your own for the lessons. I wouldn't want to think of that many lessons either. I think we had over a hundred by the time we graduated."

Sam had excelled in all of his classes at OSU and graduated a year earlier than he was scheduled to. I didn't realize, however, that his teaching degree was in the arts. I didn't even know there wasn't a glee club director. I had spent nearly two hours on the phone with Mr. Schuester the other night and he never brought any of this up. The dude is like... ten years old than us. There's no way he could have been retiring already.

"I thought McKinley was turned into like a performing arts school or something?"

"Nah, that was just a rumor. They talked about it... but they never ended up going through with it. I guess it was due to lack of funding or something. It's the first time in like seven years they're brining it back. I don't know the details. All I know is that I was offered the job from Schuester and I took it. And now I'm a little scared that I did."

"What did you mean he offered you a job? Didn't he go teach somewhere else after we all left? Didn't they like get rid of anything to do with arts at that school? What did I miss?"

"Yeah, the details are a little fuzzy. I guess the superintendent stepped in and said that schools with a performing arts program do better at tests and stuff. So they made Mr. Schue principal and he asked me if I would take over the glee club since he couldn't unfortunately. He said it was time to pass the baton to me... whatever that means. He really deserves it though, especially everything he's done for that school after we left. He worked hard to make the glee clubs after us succeed." I hang my head a little bit. Leaving high school was a tough time for us all. Most say that high school is the best four years of your life. To me, it definitely was. Sure, I had regrets. Most of the memories that I have though are good ones — ones that I wouldn't trade for the world. "Finn, we were actually just talking about you today. He and Mrs. Schuester are getting ready to go on vacation after Rachel's concert thing tomorrow. We talked a lot about Danny, too. Apparently, he's starring in this off-Broadway play called something something Ashberry Park..." I hear a weird noise come from the living room where Anna is, but I don't think anything of it. "And it's either about Bruce Springsteen or kids that like Springsteen... but he's playing the lead and I think that's pretty cool."

"I think it's Greetings From Asbury Park... like the Springsteen album..." Blaine says, furrowing his brow.

"He's at NYU, right?" I hear my daughter ask, as she parades into the kitchen with the throw blanket wrapped around her like a cape. "Daniel Schuester. That's who you guys are talking about, right?"

"You remember him?" Kurt asks, a little stunned. "He's like... five years older than you."

"Two," Annalise corrects him. "What?!" Annalise replies, as our eyes burn through her skin. "He was cute when we were younger," she stammers. "I wonder what he looks like now."

"I need another beer," I reply, rolling my eyes. I drink down the last few gulps of the one Sam had gotten me when he came home. "Annalise, would you like anything?"

"I'm okay," she replies, her eyes still glazed over thinking about a boy she probably hasn't seen since she was like seven. "Ooh, actually maybe just a water... or a soda..."

"I think we have sweet tea and lemonade downstairs too."

"It's in the basement," Kurt replies. "Same fridge where the beer and Marley's wine coolers are at."

"I'll go get it for you," I tell her, a little insistent. "What would you like?"

"Dad," she replies, rolling her eyes. "What do you think I'm going to do? Chug all of the alcohol down there?" Anna shakes her head. "I know better. Do you not trust me?"

"I trust you."

"Yeah, right," she scoffs. "Look, I'm not perfect but I don't deserve for you not to trust me anymore. We all make mistakes, dad. You just don't understand what I'm going through..."

"Annalise," I tell her. "This is not the time nor the place."

"I'm sorry if you don't trust me, okay? I'm sorry for everything that happened right before mom passed away. Eighteen years old and one little mistake..."

Everyone knows what she is referring to. We didn't have to have this conversation right now. I was so angry at her for doing this. "Honey, please. No one wants to talk about this."

"Right," she says, exhaling sharply. "Sure seems like you guys wanted to earlier when I was napping."

"Anna, please. Let's not talk about this right now. If you won't stop talking about it for you dad, stop talking about it for us. Okay?" Sam asks.

"Okay," she says, exhaling sharply once more. "I'm sorry, guys."

"What did you want to drink from the basement?"

"I guess a lemonade, please," she replies.

"Absolutely. I'll grab us some more brews down there, too. Sam... do you wanna come with?"

"To the basement? Why? There's no monsters down there, Finn. I already checked."

"I can't believe you guys are my family."

"Dinner will be ready in five!" Blaine announces, as I get up from my seat and begin to make my way down to the basement. "And we are all going to sit down and have a nice family dinner — together — alright? This fighting has got to stop. We are a family. Like it or not, we're stuck with each other and I can't stand to see you two bicker back and forth. It's killing us." Blaine clears his throat. "Go wash up and take a seat in the dining room. I want to make this a good night."

Family dinner. It's been so long since I had one of those.

For some reason though, I liked the sound of that.