Part Eleven: I don't shine like the others do/I'm so close, and so far
Author's Notes: The Americanization of the fic, from this chapter onwards, was done by Mike Ownby,who generously volunteered his services. He was also kind enough to point out random grammar and spelling mistakes, and plain logic fail, as I rushed through the chapter. These ranged from the simple typos to true 'D'oh!' moments. Any more of these which still exist are my own.
Mike also made the manip that I'm using as this story's cover image, with his kind permission. This fandom is blessed with Photoshop wizards.
"Do you want to talk about it…?"
"Not really." Quinn swipes harshly at her eyes, until Marley gently grasps her wrist and starts rubbing the inside with her thumb. Quinn lets her.
"But…"
"No," repeats Quinn, a little more firmly. Marley falls silent. "I – I'm sorry."
"Then do you…" Marley clears her throat, still in disbelief that she's even suggesting this, "do you want to be alone?"
Quinn's eyes dart to her immediately; Marley flushes, but doesn't look away. For a moment, she thinks she sees guilt in Quinn's eyes, and she rushes into saying: "I can be outside, if you don't want me here right now – or we could go somewhere less claustrophobic…"
"I'm okay," says Quinn quietly. "I just need some time to clear my head." She eases her hand out of Marley's grip, and smooths down her clothing.
"Okay." Marley stands helplessly by. "I, um, I'm going to find my mom."
"Okay." Quinn doesn't look at her as Marley exits.
Outside, Rachel practically pounces on her. "How is she?"
"Not good." Marley tries not to sound as dejected as she feels.
"You're not inside with her…?"
"I don't think – " She swallows the large lump that's formed, and tries again: "I don't think she wants me there right now."
Santana makes an angry noise; Rachel tuts. "Don't be ridiculous; of course she wants you there," says Rachel, "she's just bad at expressing her emotions."
"True, that. I could make you a long list of the fucked-up shit Tubbers did just because she couldn't man up and be honest about her feelings," says Santana.
Marley smiles weakly. Although Quinn's rejection hurts, it helps that their friends are doing their best to reassure her. "It's okay," she says, shaking her head, "I think it's you guys she needs right now, not me."
"Don't be stupid!" Santana growls. "We're not actually dating her; you are. The rest of us are better at picking girls to be gay for," she adds. Rachel rolls her eyes.
"Oh my God, Santana."
Rachel glares at her girlfriend, who shrugs. After a while, Marley realizes that the glare is now directed at her. "But… Santana's right," says Rachel. Marley quails. "After everything that's happened, do you honestly believe that Quinn doesn't want you around now, of all times?" she demands.
Put as bluntly as that, her fears sound ridiculous. Marley blushes in embarrassment, and averts her eyes. "No. But she does need space."
Rachel throws up her hands in obvious frustration. "She doesn't need space away from you." Muttering darkly under her breath in what sounds like Yiddish, Rachel pushes open the door. She reaches back to grab Marley and shove her in. Theoretically, she shouldn't have been able to accomplish that, but Marley had been caught off-guard, and went easily.
Quinn looks up from the running tap, hands paused in the sink. Her face is damp – from water, from tears, it's impossible to tell – and her red-rimmed gaze locks with Marley's. There's a wealth of emotion in those hazel eyes, and Marley hates that the most prominent of them all is guilt. She places a hand on the counter to steady herself.
"I'm so sorry, Marley," says Quinn. She takes a step forward. Marley moves just before Quinn's hand can cover hers. It hurts more than she thought it would.
"We should go," says Marley. "I know you're supposed to stay with me, but if that makes you uncomfortable, I'll take you elsewhere. Rachel's, or Santana's house." She turns her back.
"Wait, please."
This time…
… she does.
Quinn's fingers brush the inside of her arm, and linger. Marley closes her eyes. The tentative way Quinn's behaving wracks Marley with guilt for how she acted, and is acting now.
"I'm sorry," croaks Quinn, and it breaks her heart.
She turns around to grasp Quinn's hand more firmly in hers, lacing their fingers together. "It's okay, Quinn."
"I'm still… I really messed up."
"I get it, but… Quinn, I want to be here for you. I want you to let me in. I don't know how else to convince you that I'm not going anywhere." Her voice goes higher, her words start spilling out. Marley's eyes blur with tears. "You freaking out like that was terrifying."
"You don't need to. You don't owe me anything. I was scared – I let everything get the better of me." She lets Quinn cup her face in both hands, and kiss away the tears that have started to fall. "I know that's not an excuse. I'm so sorry. Marley, I love you."
She has always been the first to give way, but –
Slowly, ever so slowly, Marley eases herself away from Quinn. The distraught expression she sees on Quinn's face breaks Marley's heart all over again. "We can't keep doing this," she says, softly. "I'm not breaking up with you, but this – " she gestures between them, "– this thing we do, with you lashing out at me when I'm trying to help? It hurts."
She looks so lost that it physically hurts Marley. "I'm trying."
"I know you are. So am I." Now she feels like a terrible person. "... I know the distance is a big reason for this."
"You can't help that," responds Quinn automatically.
"I know. But it's not helping our relationship at all. That's why we have to work so hard just to keep us at a status quo." Marley strokes Quinn's cheek. "It's exhausting. Don't try and tell me otherwise."
Quinn sighs, the sound thin and ragged. "I… I'm not ready to talk about this now. Any of this."
"Okay." Marley draws her hand back. "But we will talk about it, right?" And she means Beth and Los Angeles and everything that falls in between, hoping that Quinn will understand.
"Yeah." Quinn's gaze lifts to hers, holds, and then falls away.
She takes Quinn's face in both hands, and kisses her forehead, hoping that it will take away some of the self-loathing and uncertainty she sees in her girlfriend's eyes – and the tiny smile Quinn gives her in return tells her that it does.
Just before they can leave, Quinn calls her name.
"Yes?"
"There's – something else I need to tell you," says Quinn woodenly, "something that you should know. It has to do with earlier."
"We don't have to do this now if you're not feeling up to it – " says Marley, and cuts herself off when Quinn shakes her head.
"Shelby and I had a… disagreement," says Quinn. "Beth's old enough to ask questions, so she knows she's adopted. They live in New York now, and Shelby called me." A muscle flexes in Quinn's jaw. "She told me that she doesn't want me in Beth's life until she's a bit older because it'll be too difficult for Beth."
"... When was this?"
"July."
"You didn't say anything," says Marley dumbly. "I thought… something as important as this, you would've told me." She runs her hand through her hair. "No wonder you were so upset when Puck talked about being a part of her life. He doesn't know, does he?"
"That's the thing," says Quinn bitterly. "Shelby's always had a soft spot for him. It's okay for him to be in Beth's life because he's her daddy and she needs a father figure, but she already has a mommy." She takes a deep, steadying breath; Marley can see her hand tremble. "So, no. Puck doesn't know, because Shelby's rules don't apply to him."
"But why would she invite you to Christmas dinner? That was what Puck said, right?"
Quinn throws up her hands. "I don't know what new game she's playing. This is the same woman who came back into Rachel's life, told her she didn't want a teenage daughter, got her little spy Jesse St James to pretend to be her boyfriend to distract her so we'd lose to her show choir, and then adopted my baby."
Marley swallows her immediate opinion on Shelby Corcoran in favor of the bigger and more important question. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier, Quinn?"
"You were busy with Trent, and your album." Quinn rubs the bridge of her nose. "You were writing songs about us, Marley, and I couldn't – everything else felt so unimportant when I was on the phone with you. Every moment I could steal with you was precious, and I didn't want to taint it with my problems. You sounded so happy, and listening to you talk made me happy."
"Still. You could've told me." Her mouth sets into a thin line.
"And what would you have done?"
Marley starts. "I… I would have been there for you," she says, even as she knows it's a lame answer. Quinn's right; she would have listened, and been sympathetic, but ultimately there was nothing she could do. "Just because we live in different cities doesn't mean I can't care."
"You would have worried, and I didn't want my problems distracting you," says Quinn. The words are gentle and without reprimand, but Marley flinches anyway. "I – I know it sounds really stupid now, but – I wasn't thinking."
"That's not stupid. I get where you're coming from, but part of being in a relationship is being there for each other." She feels like her hands are tied. Sure, she's still upset that Quinn would keep such an important thing from her, or worse; feel that there were things she couldn't share because she didn't want Marley to worry, but – this is Quinn, and she isn't exactly the most forthcoming person on the planet. The problem is, Marley isn't sure she wouldn't have done the same thing if she was in Quinn's shoes.
Quinn seems to read her hesitation. "This is such a fucked up situation, isn't it?" she says, with a bitter laugh.
Marley lifts her hands in a hopeless gesture. "I wish it wasn't," she tells Quinn, and drops her hands to her sides.
"Believe me, I know." They lapse into silence; Quinn staring down at the tiles, Marley at the wall on the far end.
She feels drained. It's been building for a while now, but all of this has exhausted her more than she ever thought possible. Marley shakes her head, as though it would clear her mind. She extends a hand to Quinn. "Let's go home," she says simply.
She knows Quinn needs time and space. That's how she works. But for the first time, Marley thinks that she needs that too, that she's not quite ready to be the one patiently waiting with open arms.
"I'll be on the porch," says Marley. She leaves Quinn's bags in the guest room. "My mom'll be in the kitchen – as usual."
A ghost of a smile flickers across Quinn's face. "As usual," she echoes.
Marley returns the smile and then heads downstairs. It's chilly, but she's missed winter weather. The cold air feels especially refreshing on her skin.
She doesn't know what to do. It feels terrible, because she hasn't felt this way since she was a teenager and she'd always thought that was how teenagers were supposed to be. Marley has always carried the quiet conviction that she could make any relationship work if she put her heart and soul into it, that understanding and hard work is all they need.
Their conversation from Quinn's last visit to Los Angeles comes to mind. She had asked Quinn to wait for her, but the events of the day have proved that it's not something easy for Quinn – though, not for lack of trying, but because of circumstances beyond their control. There's no way she can be the person Quinn needs and deserves if she's so far away.
Marley runs a hand through her hair. She wants this relationship to work, as does Quinn. But she doesn't want that if it kills either of them in the process.
When she gets up from the porch seat, the front door opens. Quinn comes out, shutting it quickly behind her. She has on a huge overcoat that makes her look like a little kid.
Marley laughs. "Where on earth did you get that from?"
"What are you talking about? This is yours. I found it in your closet," says Quinn. She turns around so Marley can see the faded embroidered patch on the back.
"Oh, right." She remembers now; her first winter in New York. The things she packed weren't enough, and she and Quinn had stumbled on it in a thrift store. Quinn had made fun of her at the time, but it was warm and cozy and that was all that mattered to Marley. "I asked Unique to ship it home. Mom must've washed it and put it in my closet." She smiles fondly. "Anyway… you have good timing. I was just about to come find you," says Marley. She sits back down, patting the seat beside her.
Quinn joins her. "I think we need to talk," she says, not looking at Marley.
"Yeah?" It comes out more of a question, because Quinn is acting oddly, and Marley has a bad feeling about this. Her girlfriend has on this weary, resigned expression that's completely at odds with how childish the coat makes her look.
"So. Do you want to say it, or should I?"
Marley frowns. "Say what? I don't understand."
"Then I'll say it." Her lip trembles. "I think this isn't working."
Hearing Quinn say the words is like a slap to the face. "... What?"
Quinn looks away. The muscles in her jaw tense. "It's not working," she repeats, "the distance is too much, and I'm so tired."
"That wasn't what I wanted to say."
"But you were thinking it, right?"
"No, of course not." Marley shakes her head. "Quinn…"
"I don't want to hurt you, but I end up doing it anyway." Pain flashes through her eyes. "In more ways than one."
"Stop that." She grabs onto Quinn's fingers, giving them a sharp shake. "If this is about earlier… I don't want to hear it. You were caught off-guard; we all were. You can't keep punishing yourself for your mistakes, Quinn."
Quinn closes her eyes. It occurs to Marley, then, that Quinn has spent her life hearing the word 'but', and being asked to leave. Of not being good enough.
"Quinn, you're not doing either of us a favor by pushing me away." She leans back in the wooden seat. "I don't blame you, though. I said some terrible things earlier, and I'm sorry."
"No, you said the right things," says Quinn flatly. "We can't keep doing this." Her eyes are glassy.
"No, I…" Marley exhales. "Quinn, I didn't mean us. I meant you not letting me in."
"And I told you, I'm trying."
"You don't know how much that means to me that you are." She glances down at their entwined fingers. "You apologized for not telling me about Shelby – and if I know you as well as I think I do, I know you must have debated with yourself about telling me. I was hurt, sure; but you explained your reasons, and I understand."
"You do?"
Marley nods. "I'm not angry with you. I definitely don't want us to break up, especially not over something like this. And, Quinn…" She cradles Quinn's cheek, so she's looking into Quinn's eyes, "I want you to know that I love that you're talking to me, instead of running away or shutting down. It means everything." Her thumb brushes a tear that slides down Quinn's cheek.
Quinn's eyes flutter closed. She moves closer so she can rest her head on Marley's shoulder.
"... I need to tell you something, though."
"Oh?"
She smiles ruefully. "I had intended to wait until later, and under better circumstances, but… Puck kinda ruined everything."
"Puck's been ruining everything since sophomore year," says Quinn.
"I can't argue with that." Marley's thumb rubs gentle circles over the side of Quinn's hand. "I was thinking of moving back to New York. Hear me out," she adds quickly.
"... if this is because of what happened – "
"It isn't. Quinn, you know I wouldn't do anything like that on a whim."
Quinn clutches Marley's hand tightly. "You can't. You're living your dream, and I don't want you throwing it away."
"Living my dream feels like I'm empty inside daily. I'm sure dreams aren't supposed to feel like that."
"But, Atlantic Records."
Marley shakes her head. "There are other record companies. I don't even have to work for a record company, even. There are so many things I can do; it's a big city. I'm older and more experienced now."
"Precisely one year older."
"One year of working experience producing a whole album."
"I don't want you to regret anything," says Quinn in a tiny voice. "I don't think I could live with myself if you gave up your dream and ended up resenting me."
She lets go of Quinn's hand in favor of running her fingers through the hair on either side of Quinn's face, subtly directing Quinn to look at her. "Quinn," says Marley, "music has always been my dream. I'm not giving that up. But you… you're part of my dream now, too. It's as simple as that."
Tears well up in Quinn's eyes. "You can't say things like that, you idiot."
"And why not? I'm your dork, remember."
Quinn's smile slowly widens. "No. You're perfect."
"Then no talking about breaking up," orders Marley in mock-stern tones, angling Quinn's face closer to her own. Her thumbs massage Quinn's temples.
Quinn just shakes her head. "As long as you promise you'll give this plenty of thought, and that you're doing whatever you decide to do for the right reasons. The right reasons being that your personal life has no major impact on it."
"Deal."
Even though Quinn's things are in the guest room, it's just for show. Quinn slips into Marley's room long after the house is silent and dark.
"I was just about to go over," says Marley from the dresser. She has her hair up in a loose bun.
"You can't always be the one going after me," replies Quinn, and Marley feels like she's not talking about the guest room. She just nods, however, and goes about getting ready for bed. "You can be honest with me," she says, back to Quinn as she adjusts the pillows, "it's because my bed's more comfortable, right?"
Quinn shakes her head. "No comment."
She holds up the blankets so Quinn can slip in, her other arm going around Quinn's waist; a habit she's adopted when they share a bed. It's warm and cozy, the rise and fall of Quinn's chest lulling her to sleep.
Eventually, Quinn breaks their comfortable silence: "Marley?"
"Hmm?"
"I know you said that it's something you're only thinking about, but… you aren't already making plans, are you?"
"No," she admits. She twirls a finger idly through the lock of hair tickling her cheek. "I wasn't even supposed to tell anyone yet."
"Good."
"Although the romantic in me would have to say that I would gladly give everything up for you, that's kinda impractical, and I don't think you'd appreciate that kind of grand romantic gesture. Like, even Rachel would have a coronary, maybe." Marley feels Quinn shift in her arms, making a harrumph of annoyance. "But you should know you're worth it. You are so very important to me, Quinn; even though I may say or do things that hurt you."
"You're such an idiot sometimes." Quinn's fingers find the crook of Marley's elbow. "You've never set out to hurt me, unlike most of the people in my life. It may sound ridiculous, but you're the person I trust most in the world."
"That's a little depressing."
She feels Quinn shrug. "I've hurt more than my fair share of people too."
"That's a little simplistic. You're more than that – some endless cycle of hurting and being hurt. You like cheesy pop songs. You like putting your iPod playlist on shuffle and hearing your favorite Motown song come on. You eat way less bacon, or any meat, than everyone thinks you do, because you actually listen to Rachel when she talks about vegetarianism. You… you double-majored in English and business at Yale because you really love reading, but wanted to back it up with a 'practical and prestigious' degree, and you're smart enough to see that through."
Quinn is silent for a long moment. "So… not just a pretty face?"
"Far from it." She presses her cheek into Quinn's hair. "Quinn, you're human, just like the rest of us. But you've accomplished so much, survived so much, it's hard to remember that sometimes. Even you forget that, and you beat yourself up when you make mistakes."
"I know."
"But I love you, and everything that makes you you," she whispers. "I want you to know that."
She feels Quinn bury her face in the front of her shirt, and say nothing. Marley understands the message, well aware that sometimes there are no words necessary.
Puck shows up on Marley's front lawn the next day.
Millie was about to chase him away, but she recognizes him from the airport, and knocks on Marley's door.
"Mmmph." Marley uncurls herself from around a still-sleeping Quinn, and goes to answer it. "Mom?" she yawns, shutting her bedroom door behind her.
"That young man from yesterday's on the front lawn."
"Huh?"
"My guess, he's lookin' for you girls." Millie offers her a sip of coffee, which Marley gladly accepts. "Should I chase him away?"
"What? No, it's okay, I'll go talk to him." She slips back inside, dresses quickly, and with a last quick glance at a sleeping Quinn, goes outside.
"Hi."
He has his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. It's impractical for this weather, but Marley gets the feelings he doesn't care. "Hey, Marley."
She has her arms folded across her chest. "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"
"What do you think? I'm here to apologize to my baby mama."
"Don't call her that."
He raises both hands in a gesture of supplication. "Okay. Fine. I'm here to talk to Quinn. If she'll talk to me." Puck glances at her. "How is she?"
"Upset."
He winces. "Yeah, I kinda got that. Mad at me, too?"
Marley sighs. She was hoping they'd talk about what happened so she can at least give Puck some peace of mind, but they'd had more important things that needed to be said first. "You surprised us all, and those were… sore topics, to say the least. Even I could see that."
"I know. I'm known for my biceps and abs and not much else." Puck smirks a little, then it falters when he notices she isn't smiling. "... Fuck. That wasn't the right thing to say, was it?"
"Not really."
Puck scratches his jaw. "You're good for her."
"... What is it with you guys and unsubtle changes of topics?"
"Huh? Whaddya mean?"
"Finn said the exact same thing, in the exact same way," says Marley.
He chuckles. "No shit. The dude's my best friend; figures we'd have rubbed off on each other. But we mean it, you know. Not just the whole spank bank – okay, that was another bad thing," he amends hastily once he catches the look on Marley's face. "Look. I'm glad she has you around, you're way better at being there than I ever was. But I didn't come here to say that, I came here to talk to Q. Will you help me ask Quinn if she'll talk to me? Before I jam my foot in my mouth again?"
"You can ask me yourself," says Quinn. They both jump.
"Quinn?"
She doesn't look at Marley. "What are you doing here, Puck? Haven't you done enough?"
He shuffles, kicking at snow. "Quinn, I'm just here to apologize. You have every right to be mad at me, because I was out of line yesterday."
"Should I…?" Marley starts to retreat, but stops in her tracks with a look from Quinn. Her gaze travels back to Puck.
"I'm sorry," he says.
Quinn sighs. "I'm sorry, too. You didn't deserve any of the things I said to you."
Puck looks surprised, but it's quickly replaced by excitement. "Nah. I shouldn't have forced it. S'cool." He extends one arm in her direction, a smirk on his face. Quinn narrows her eyes at him; he sighs, shoving his hand back into his pocket. "We good?"
"Until the next time you screw up," she says lightly. "You know what Shelby did to the both of us, Puck. You know how hard it is for me to even talk about this."
"Got that," says Puck. "Fair enough."
"About Christmas…"
"We don't have to," he says quickly. "I shoulda listened the first ten times Shelby said no."
"No." Quinn looks up at him. "I'm tired of running from all this. I think… I'm ready to stop running." She smiles faintly. "You're right. We're not her parents, but we can at least be part of her life."
Marley smiles at them – then her eyes widen when Quinn beckons to her. "Besides… I want Beth to meet Marley."
"... What."
Puck starts laughing. "Hey, welcome to the family!"
She doesn't even register that he's talking. "Quinn, are you sure?" asks Marley. They haven't discussed Beth since yesterday, and it's not like Quinn to decide something this momentous out of the blue.
"I'm sure." She looks into Marley's eyes, smile gentle. Puck, of course, ruins the moment by hooting and asking them to kiss.
"Puck, go away."
He pauses, then nods, clearly unwilling to test the limits of Quinn's patience. "Fine. One kiss for the road, then?"
She shoots him a glare colder than the winter, and he finally backs off. When his truck's disappeared down the road, Marley turns to Quinn, wide-eyed. "What just happened?"
"Hear me out?" Quinn puts her hands into her pockets. "I do want to be part of her life. I wasn't happy when Shelby asked me to stay away, but I agreed because of Beth. I don't know what Puck told her, but if it means getting to see her, I'll take that opportunity. But… I can't do this alone." She turns pleading eyes on Marley.
"Quinn, of course. I'll be there if you need me to."
Quinn smiles, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "You're not mad at me again, are you? I know that was a pretty big thing to spring on you like that."
"Not mad, no," says Marley. "Just surprised. We barely talked about Beth and Shelby and then now… I would've appreciate a little heads up, is all." She shakes her head, smiling. "But the good surprised. I'm glad you're not letting Shelby stop you from knowing Beth."
"I'm glad, too."
"Hey, hey. No more tears, okay? You've cried enough in the past few days." Marley pulls her in for a hug.
"Happy tears this time." Quinn clings to her. "I'm glad you'll be there. There's no one else I trust to stop me from strangling Shelby," she jokes.
Marley laughs. "I'm pretty good at being your keeper," she says, kissing Quinn's nose.
Luckily, Rachel has similar opinions concerning Shelby, and Santana thus invites herself along. There are tense negotiations in which Puck shuffles back and forth as messenger boy to find a time which suits all of their schedules.
In the end, they settle on a casual dinner a few days before Christmas to avoid the peak season, and Breadsticks as neutral territory. Santana offers to drive them all, and it's her way of showing solidarity.
Marley and Rachel take the backseat so Quinn can ride shotgun, and bicker with Santana. They've accepted it as their way of relieving stress, so Marley and Rachel aren't too bothered by the insults flying in both directions.
Marley's nervous. It's feels like meeting the parents, but way worse.
Rachel leans over. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"What if she hates me?"
"She's nine. I don't think she's capable of hating anyone. Maybe when she's a little older…?"
"I meant Shelby."
Rachel does the eyebrow thing she got from Quinn (after nearly a decade of friendship, they've all picked up each other's facial tics to varying degrees). "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about with Shelby. You're the only one without history with her."
"Yeah." She adjusts her printed scarf. Her nervous habit of fidgeting with her clothing hasn't extended to it, thankfully, because she has to consciously stop herself from ruining her precious scarf. "Any tips on what not to do?"
"Don't mention our familial connections, and you should be good," says Rachel lightly.
Marley snorts with laughter. "This is so messed up."
Rachel snorts as well. "You think? At least you only have Beth you need to win over. I'm not looking forward to having to explain to Shelby how I went from being engaged to Finn, to being in a long-term relationship with Santana Lopez, plus having to win over my technical-sister, who is also my best friend's biological daughter."
"I'm not much better. I'd always seen myself as winning my prospective in-laws' approval. Now, I'm nervous because I want to win my girlfriend's daughter's approval." Marley grins. "But yours trumps mine, I guess."
Rachel laughs, patting her arm sympathetically.
Shelby is standing outside the restaurant, smiling widely. Puck's already there with his hands in his pockets, a little way off. It's abundantly clear that this is Rachel's mother; the resemblance is striking. It's hard to believe that she's capable of all the things Quinn's told Marley she's done.
Then the little girl hiding behind Shelby shows her face, and Marley is stunned to see a miniature Quinn peering at them all.
"Beth, say hello," scolds Shelby gently.
"Hi," she whispers, and goes back to hiding behind her mother. It's adorable.
"Hello, Beth," Rachel immediately says, bending down to look at her. Marley, however, only has eyes for Quinn, who is gazing at Beth with the most wistful expression she has ever seen her wear.
"I'm so glad all of you could make it," Shelby says. Her eyes linger on Rachel, then Puck, before she smiles at everyone. It's subtle, but since Marley was looking for it, she notices that Shelby doesn't make eye contact with Quinn.
"Thank you for inviting us," replies Quinn, manners impeccable as always. Behind Quinn's back, Santana makes a face.
"Hello. I don't think we've met," says Shelby, looking at Marley.
"Marley Rose," she introduces herself, shaking Shelby's hand, "I was a freshman at McKinley in their senior year." She glances at Quinn, fleeting, suddenly shy about introducing herself as Quinn's girlfriend.
Quinn steps up. "We're together," she says, and slips her hand into Marley's. Her chin tips up in this tiny gesture of defiance, one that Marley has learned to recognize as bravado.
Shelby's smile doesn't falter – and the resemblance to Rachel has never been so strong. "It's very nice to meet you, Marley," she says, and turns to Santana, "and it's good to see you again, Santana, in… very different circumstances, I should say."
"Finn Hudson and I swapped partners and decided we liked it better this way. Never looked back since," she says cheerfully. Rachel splutters; Quinn hisses, "Would it kill you to act like a normal human being for once in your life, Lopez?"
Marley, however, recognizes the power move for what it was; it takes away focus from the tension between Quinn and Shelby, and distracts Shelby from any further questions that might lead to unpleasant outcomes. She catches Puck winking at her, and she finds that's she's not the only one.
Beth tugs on her mom's dress and announces, "I'm hungry." The adults take that as their cue to head into Breadsticks.
It's disconcerting to watch Beth. She has Quinn's features, and Puck's eyes, but there's a lot of Shelby in her mannerisms – which Rachel also shares, to a lesser degree. Marley has to hide her laughter in her hand when Beth levels a Quinn-glare at her mom for not letting her order dessert until she's done eating her main course.
Quinn looks similarly entranced. Marley rests her hand on Quinn's knee under the table.
"Sorry Breadsticks isn't very fancy," says Shelby wryly, "but Beth loves the pasta here, and the breadsticks. Of course. We always come here when visiting her grandma."
"I think the question is, how could she not? That kid is full of awesomeness already." Santana reaches across the table to hold her hand out; after a moment's hesitation, Beth gives her a high-five.
Santana grins. "What's your favorite pasta sauce?"
Beth looks thoughtful, seemingly considering her answer carefully. "Tomato and meatballs," she answers, "but only with the big meatballs."
"Nice. You're pretty cool. For a kid."
"My favorite place at home is called Antonio's, and Mommy lets me order a basket of garlic bread all for me."
She sees Quinn wince a little when Beth calls Shelby Mommy. Marley's thumb starts rubbing circles onto Quinn's kneecap.
"I like garlic bread, too."
"No, you like torturing me with your garlic breath," says Rachel dryly.
"That's a perk."
"What's a perk?" Beth asks. She looks more interested in these adults now.
"It's an unexpected good thing that comes with doing something. Like when you live in New York, you get to see lots of Broadway shows," Rachel explains.
Beth nods. "Mommy's friends are all in shows. They get to wear all these shiny costumes and sing songs onstage." She smiles. "I remember we went to your show," she adds, looking at Rachel. "You were Princess Jasmine."
Rachel beams. "Thank you, sweetie. Did you enjoy it?"
"I guess." But then Beth adds, "It was a little boring," and Marley wants to laugh because she can see something in Rachel die a little bit.
"Oh," says Rachel in a strangled tone, "well." Santana tries not to laugh – surprisingly tactful for her – and rubs the inside of her arm.
"Bethy!" reproaches Shelby. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say. Rachel put a lot of hard work into her show. How do you think you would feel if I told you I thought your spelling bees are boring?"
Beth pouts. "Sorry."
"Not to me, honey. Apologize to Rachel."
"That isn't necessary – " says Rachel. But the little girl turns to her with a determined expression and says, "I'm sorry I said your show was boring."
Marley is utterly charmed – as are most of the other adults at the table, probably. Enough that the non-apology's going unchallenged.
"Oh heck," mutters Santana under her breath, "she looks exactly like Tubbers did. Cuter, though."
She does; that's probably why she's such a sucker for the girl now, Marley supposes.
Quinn clears her throat. "If you don't like going to shows – " Rachel pouts at her " – what do you like to do instead?" Quinn asks.
Beth brightens. "I love reading! Mommy used to read to me but I can do it all by myself now. My favorite books are The Graveyard Book and Matilda and Alice in Wonderland."
Quinn smiles at her. "I love Alice too."
"I know. You gave me the book."
She blinks, then relaxes. "I did. For your birthday, a couple of years ago. Your mommy said you were a little too young for it at the time, and you'd grow into it." Much to Quinn's credit, there's no bitterness in her words, and Shelby looks grateful for it. However, Quinn doesn't look at Shelby the entire time.
Beth nods. "Mommy helps when I don't know some of the long words."
"I was about your age when I started reading Alice too." Here Quinn looks wistful, but happy. "I'm really glad you're enjoying it as much as I did."
"Uh-huh! I asked Santa for Through the Looking-Glass for Christmas. I hope I get it; I've been reeeally good all year."
Shelby chuckles. "I hope you do too, baby."
Beth wiggles happily in her seat when the waiter places a plate of pasta in front of her. Spaghetti with meatballs, garlic bread, and more breadsticks.
"Wow, babe, you really gonna eat all that?" The plate of pasta in front of Puck is twice the size of Beth's, but his eyes go wide and he gestures at her plate.
"Yup," she says, laughing.
"You're kidding me. Where does it all go?" He pretends to peer under the tablecloth and around Beth's body, tickling her until she squeals in helpless laughter. Shelby looks on, laughing herself.
Unlike Quinn and Beth, the resemblance between Rachel and Shelby is merely physical. There's an exhaustion that Shelby wears, that Marley only sees in Rachel when she's talking about failing auditions.
But now, everyone wears the same fond expression as they watch Puck clown around with Beth. Marley thinks Beth is an extremely lucky girl, to have this many people in her life who'll always care about her.
"So, what do you do, Marley?" asks Shelby politely.
"I'm a junior producer with Atlantic Records," she answers. "I started with them right after graduation."
"You must be very talented. That's a very prestigious company to be working for as a fresh graduate."
"She is," says Quinn. Marley glances sideways at her. "She was headhunted for the position."
Quinn glances over at Santana, and then suddenly Santana is nodding. "I put out an album some time back. Rachel helped with the writing and vocals and shit, but Marley produced it for me. She really helped put the whole thing together."
Shelby nods. "That's very impressive. I think I wouldn't mind buying a copy, if you still have some in stock."
"I'll mail you one," says Rachel. Her eyes keep darting between Shelby, Quinn, and Santana, as though she's caught on to whatever game's being played between all three, and she's still deciding which side she wants to be on. "You're still living in New York, aren't you?"
Shelby nods. She seems unperturbed by the tension, though it may be because Marley doesn't know her well enough to tell. "I'd appreciate it. I'm glad to see you all doing so well after high school."
"Despite the circumstances," says Quinn smoothly.
Shelby doesn't respond. She refocuses her attention on Beth, reminding her to chew with her mouth closed.
Marley notices Puck listening in. Which is timely, because Shelby is now saying to Rachel: "I seem to recall you being rather fixated on Finn, to the point of getting engaged to him," to Rachel.
"Things change. People change," replies Rachel stiffly. "We were all teenagers, and honestly too young for decisions like that."
"You don't have to explain anything; I get it. I was a teenager once, too," backtracks Shelby. "I just wanted to say… I'm glad you're all happy. It's certainly not what I was expecting, but I'm happy for you all, nonetheless."
Rachel takes Santana's hand. "I am very happy, thank you," she says.
And then Puck changes the conversation in typical Puck style – with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. "Speaking of happiness; how about you, Shelby? Any special guy in your life lately?" he asks with a grin. As he and Shelby chat, Marley notices the tension slowly bleed out of Quinn's shoulders.
"Are you alright?"
Quinn exhales. "Yeah. I am now." She smiles at Marley. "Thanks for asking."
The rest of the meal progresses without further incident until Marley notices Beth staring at her milkshake. "Beth?"
"Yeah?"
Marley smiles at her, and then indicates the milkshake. "Would you like to try it?"
"Mommy says I'm not allowed to have dessert until I'm done with my food," replies Beth glumly. She pokes at the noodles still on her plate. "I don't want these. They're all cold and icky."
Marley shrugs. "And she's right."
Beth deflates. "Don't grown-ups get to eat dessert whenever they want?"
"Nope. My mommy would be mad at me if I didn't finish my food before getting dessert, too." She nods at her own plate, with two slices of garlic bread there; she'd been saving the best for last, but that hardly matters now. "You know, I really love spaghetti."
Beth stares down at her spaghetti, frowning in contemplation. "Really really?"
"Yup, really."
"I know!" She leans forward to whisper conspiratorially. "I'll eat your garlic bread and you'll eat my spaghetti. Then we can both get dessert."
Marley tries not to laugh. "That sounds like a great idea."
"What's your name?"
"Marley."
"Pinkie promise, Marley," orders Beth. She holds up a hand, pinkie extended. Marley links their pinkies together, nodding solemnly as Beth gives their joined pinkies a firm shake. "No backsies," says Beth, shoving her plate away and reaching for Marley's.
"No backsies." Marley sprinkles Parmesan cheese on her newly-acquired spaghetti, smiling indulgently as Beth wolfs down the garlic bread and presents her clean plate to Shelby. She gets the feeling they were watched for the duration of the transaction but no one seems to care either way.
Then a menu prods into her hand. "I wanna lava chocolate cake," says Beth. "What do you want?"
"That sounds lovely, I think I'll have that too. My mom made that before."
Beth's eyes go wide. "Mommy! Marley's mom makes lava chocolate cake at home! Can we?"
"We'll see," says Shelby with an indulgent smile.
"Pinkie promise!"
"Pinkie promises don't work with mommies, sweetheart." But she flags down a waiter and puts in an order for three chocolate lava cakes. "If we're considering making these at home, I'll have to see what they're all about," she says to a delighted Beth, "unless you wanna share yours with me?"
"No!" Beth yells. "Get your own, mommy!"
Marley's laughing along with everyone else when she feels lips on her cheek, and a voice in her ear ask: "Are you sharing?"
"Say please."
Quinn laughs. "Please."
"Quinn, get your own," says Beth loudly. "You ate all your spaghetti so you can order dessert too."
Quinn blinks in surprise as everyone bursts into a fresh gale of laughter.
Santana drops them home in record time. Rachel's giving her an earful for how she conducted herself through dinner, and it's reached that point where it's foreplay for them. Marley can't get out of the car fast enough.
They haven't been standing in the snow long when Quinn takes her hand. "Walk with me?" she asks. "It's a nice night."
Marley smiles and nods. "Sure." She puts her house keys back into her pocket. "Lead the way."
Lima is quiet for this time of night, and year. Marley adjusts her scarf around her neck as Quinn sets off down the sidewalk.
"You were relatively quiet tonight," says Quinn. She bumps Marley's shoulder with her own gently.
"Nothing much for me to say. They're your friends, your – Beth." She clears her throat. "And Shelby was… after hearing about the things she did, and tonight… it's safe to say she isn't my favorite person."
"That makes the two of us," says Quinn wryly. She squeezes Marley's hand. "I have it on pretty good authority, though, that you might be mine."
"Might?"
"Okay, a high chance of being."
"Lucky me."
Quinn laughs, and bumps her head into Marley's shoulder affectionately.
"Are you okay? Tonight couldn't have been easy for you."
Quinn takes her time to consider her answer, and the crunching of their footsteps in snow fills the silence in between. "It wasn't," she admits eventually. "They're a family, Beth and Shelby; I've grown up enough to understand that now." She pauses under a streetlight. "The last time I saw her a couple of years ago, she was somewhat of her own person. But the older she gets, she sounds like Puck and she…" Quinn doesn't complete the sentence.
"And she looks exactly like you," says Marley quietly. Quinn nods.
"I wasn't expecting that. I know that sounds ridiculous – she has half my genes – but she could have been Quinn Fabray as a child. The perfect kid my parents could show off to their friends like they never could with me when I was Lucy."
"There was nothing wrong with Lucy. I wish your parents could have understood that," says Marley. "She's someone who you used to be, but not who defines you now."
"Yeah." They start walking again. Marley's wearing her huge overcoat, and she tucks their joined hands into one of the pockets.
"Are you still mad at Puck?"
It happens that they walk under a shopfront as Marley asks the question, so she can see Quinn drop her gaze as she contemplates her answer. "No," says Quinn at last. "It's impossible for me to stay mad at him; he may be an idiot, but he has a big heart. I'm glad I went tonight." A smile spreads over her face. "I'm glad you came along."
"I was really nervous about meeting Beth," confesses Marley.
"Really? Why?" One of Quinn's eyebrows goes all the way up.
"She's your biological daughter. You and Puck adore her, and so does Rachel. I was afraid she'd hate me, and…" Marley pauses to find the right words. "I didn't want her to hate me. She's important to you."
Quinn shakes her head. "She's Shelby's daughter," says Quinn, with only a trace of bitterness. "It's a minor Christmas miracle that this dinner even happened, given with how we all acted years ago – how Shelby's still acting. I've made my peace with being Quinn and not Mommy to her. But…" She smiles warmly at Marley. "I appreciate you caring enough to want to make a good impression. It means a lot to me. Although… she is only nine, and I don't think her opinion of someone is liable to be swayed by gifts."
"Is that a hint?"
"I didn't say you should buy her affection with gifts!" Quinn laughs. "I'm saying that… you're more than enough. Just you."
Marley tucks her hands into the crook of Quinn's elbow. "Can I buy your affection with gifts?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"I'll give you a kiss."
Quinn's lips curve into a smile. "Sounds like a fair deal."
The deal that Quinn's made with her mother is that they spend Christmas Eve and the day itself together, but Quinn stays with Marley for the rest of their stay in Lima.
Quinn's been asked to dress up for their formal Christmas Eve dinner. This normally isn't a problem, but she hasn't spoken to her mother in a while, and so she's a little tense as she rummages through her suitcase.
Marley lounges on the bed, ostensibly reading a magazine but actually watching Quinn. "That looks nice."
Quinn grimaces. "You think?" She holds up the maroon dress to herself, studying her reflection in the mirror of Marley's closet. "I bought it especially for tonight's dinner with my mom."
"Don't you have plenty of dresses, though?"
"Not as much as I used to have," explains Quinn. "I left most of them back in Lima when I moved to New York. Besides, I only ever needed so many because my father didn't think women should wear pants."
"I see. You also look good like this, right now," says Marley in an attempt to change the subject from Russell Fabray.
Quinn glances down at herself, then back at Marley. "I'm in my underwear," she says, sounding like she's torn between amusement and exasperation.
"What's your point?"
"Oh my god. Don't be such a boy, Marl." She flings one of her shirts at her laughing girlfriend, smirking as it catches her in the face. "If you're not gonna help, at the very least you could refrain from making comments like that."
"Okay, okay!" Marley laughs, putting her hands up in case Quinn decides to launch more clothing at her. "I'll help. What do you need? Moral support? Actual physical support?"
"Tell me if it's too much. As for physical support… I have a bra for that," says Quinn.
Marley giggles. "I see my terrible sense of humour is contagious."
"Don't flatter yourself." She frowns, then removes another dress, this time in navy blue, from her suitcase. "Which looks better?"
Marley sits up, crossing her legs Indian-style. She props her elbow up on one knee, perching her chin on the palm of her hand. "The navy," she answers at length. "It goes with your hair."
Quinn contemplates both dresses, then nods. "Navy it is." She unzips the back and climbs into it. "Zip me up?"
Marley slides off the bed. She can't resist trailing her fingers up Quinn's bare arms, enjoying the shudder it elicits. Smirking, Marley pulls the zipper up, and leaves a kiss on the back of Quinn's neck.
"Don't start something you can't finish," murmurs Quinn, voice suddenly husky.
"I'm not as evil and twisted as you think I am." Another kiss, and she's gone, retreating to the bed to admire Quinn, who examines the dress from every angle in the mirror before pronouncing herself satisfied. She puts on matching shoes before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind her.
Marley shifts so she can continue staring at Quinn.
"I kinda wish I didn't have to go," says Quinn, from inside.
Marley sighs. Before she can say anything, Quinn quickly adds: "I know I agreed to this. It's a bit hard to stick to the deal when – you know. I could be having a far more enjoyable Christmas holiday here." Her eyes fall to Marley's Yale crewneck and sweatpants combination. "With a better dress code."
"I don't think I have to remind you that I think it's a big deal that you're working on rebuilding your relationship with your mom," says Marley. "Besides, we get to have you for the rest of the week. I see a lot of dirty dishes in your future."
Quinn smiles. "Is that all I'm good for? Washing dishes?"
"Mmhmm." Marley is momentarily distracted, watching the sweep of the eyeliner as Quinn deftly draws one eye, then the other. "Maybe."
Quinn sweeps out of the bathroom and picks up something else from the nightstand. "Help me?"
"You're wearing this?" Marley easily does up the delicate silver clasp, unable to keep the goofy smile off her face.
"Silver goes with navy blue." She touches the silver book where it rests over her collarbone, and smiles at Marley. With Marley barefoot and Quinn in a modest pair of heels, they're about equal in height.
She stops herself before she can kiss Quinn (and ruin her immaculate makeup). "Do you want me to drive you there?" Marley asks.
The disappointment in Quinn's eyes vanishes, and she smirks. "Please. I was just wondering how I was going to ask you without sounding too needy." She pecks Marley on the lips as the other woman smiles goofily.
Marley snatches up a coat that's hanging over the back of her chair and they head downstairs.
"There you are," says Millie, "it's about time you got outta there and – Quinn, darlin', you are a vision." She beams, Marley quite forgotten.
"Thanks, Millie."
Marley kisses her mom's cheek, and ducks under her arm to grab her keys out of the bowl in the hallway. "I'll drop Quinn off and then be right back to help."
In the car, there's no music. There's her bag in the backseat that Marley sees when she turns her head to back out of the driveway. She's gotten a lot better at driving now that she drives every day in LA. She'll miss the sound of Quinn's voice, even if it's just for a couple of days. "Is it just you and your mom?" asks Marley, breaking the silence.
"No," says Quinn. "Frannie and her husband are staying a couple of days. I think they're bringing their baby."
"You're an aunt?"
"Yeah. I didn't even know she was pregnant, until Mom told me. Apparently they've been trying for a while." Light from the streetlamp outside floods in, casting Quinn's face in profile.
"I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"I know it must be hard for you, with Beth, and then now your sister…" She trails off. "I also know you don't want to talk about it, but… yeah. I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to be alone in this."
Quinn doesn't say anything until they pull up outside the Fabray house. When Marley turns to her expectantly, Quinn leans over the gear console and pulls Marley in by the neck of her shirt to kiss her. She kisses back out of habit, but it's not too long before Quinn's putting space between them. She whispers, "Thank you," in Marley's ear before leaning away, a wicked smirk on her ruby red lips.
Still dazed, Marley watches as Quinn fetches her bag out of the backseat.
"Marley?"
"Yeah?"
"You have a little…" She gestures around her mouth, still smirking. Marley swipes at her own face; her fingers come away with lipstick smears.
In between giggles, Quinn calls, "Merry Christmas!" and turns to walk into her house.
She makes sure to clean off all lipstick marks before she enters her house; Marley doesn't think she can put up with her mom's teasing about mistletoe for the entire night.
Already, the smell of food wafts out when she opens the front door. "Is that you, baby?" yells Millie from the kitchen.
"Yep."
"Oh, good."
Marley washes her hands, digs in the drawer for her apron. "Reporting for duty, Chef."
"'bout time you came home, sweetie. I was worried you'd forgotten all about the Christmas cookies while canoodlin' with that girlfriend of yours."
"Mom!" She blushes. "How did you…?"
"Please, I was your age once. There were plenty of boys I stepped out with, and we'd go for long drives in their cars, if you catch my drift."
Marley groans theatrically. "No! I don't wanna know!"
Millie cackles. "Then take out the cookies, will you? They should be done about now…?"
On cue, the oven dings. She puts on her oven mitts and takes the trays out, setting them on racks to cool. Marley barely has time to catch her breath before she's put to work making pie filling.
As they work, Millie says: "It's been too long since it was just us Rose girls for Christmas. I've missed this." She adds a pinch of flour to the dough she's rolling out. "Maybe I should move out to Hollywood. Lima is an awfully long way from LA – and New York, for that matter."
"Oh, Mom." It seems as good a time as any to break the news. Marley pauses, takes a deep breath, and faces her. "Actually… there's something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Yeah?"
"About me being in Los Angeles. Mom, I was thinking of moving back to New York."
"But, didn't you move out there for your job?"
"Yeah, that's the thing. I don't like being out there on my own, far away from everyone. The job is great, but it doesn't seem worth it anymore."
Millie dusts off her hands, then comes over to turn off the stove. "Hey," protests Marley.
Her mom gives her a look. "That can keep." She instructs Marley to wash her hands and then they shuck off their aprons, leaving them in the kitchen. Millie settles onto the sofa with her daughter. "I didn't know you were so unhappy livin' out there on your own, Marl."
"I'm not, honestly." Her mouth goes sideways. "Mom… you'll probably say I'm being stupid, but… I just don't want to put my job first anymore."
"Have you talked about it with anyone else?"
"I mentioned it to Quinn, but…" She fidgets with her hands. "She's not too happy. About the whole moving back thing, that is."
"As I expected." Millie rubs Marley's hand. "Sweetie, you moved out there 'cause they were offerin' you your dream job. I'm in no place to judge, but if you're gonna move back to New York for a girl…"
"It's not like that – though it sounds like it is," says Marley. "Things have changed. I've been doing a lot more things, and I feel that what I'm doing now isn't everything I want to be doing in my life. I want to try other things. I've started writing songs again. There are plenty of opportunities in New York – just not guaranteed jobs that pay well."
Millie ponders for a long moment. "So Quinn's got no part in this decision?"
Marley hesitates. "She does. I know it sounds bad, but… she's been such a major part of my life over the past few years."
"Hey, it's not my place as your mom to just sit around and judge you. I'm here to love you unconditionally, and support you in whatever you wanna do, okay? The time for educatin' is long past." She pats Marley's cheek. "'Sides, you've always been my good girl. I think the last time I ever had to tan your hide was when you wanted to play grown-ups and ruined my good suit with lipstick."
Marley chuckles.
"There's nothin' wrong with doin' things for love, anyway," continues the older woman. "Crazy, stupid, whatever they say. But I say; if you're gonna do something crazy, ain't no better reason than love."
"... You're not mad?"
Millie gapes at her. "Marley, why would I be mad?"
"You worked so hard to save up enough so I could go to college, and you talked so much about me being a college graduate and working in Los Angeles. If I moved back, I could easily end up jobless and starving."
"I care about you. You're worth a lot more than the college degree, sweetheart. An' the Marley Rose I raised is far too ambitious an' talented to be jobless for long in a big city always lookin' for talent. I know you'll find somethin'." A smirk curves her lips. "As for starvin', you'll have that lovely girlfriend of yours lookin' out for you, won't you? She's certainly ambitious an' talented enough to keep you around."
"Alright!" Marley says, laughing. "Alright, I get your point. I just – I haven't decided on anything yet, but I'm… I'm glad you're okay with whatever I choose."
"As long as you think it out, honey. I trust your decision-making skills, not your impulsivity. There was this time when you were eleven and you decided clothes weren't important or necessary…"
Marley blushes. "Oh my God, Mom, stop that! Some stories are cute and whatever, but others should never ever be mentioned again!"
"That's the other job of a mother; keepin' you honest," replies Millie sweetly. She kisses Marley on the cheek and hoists herself up. "And now, that food ain't gonna cook itself."
"I thought not," says Marley with a deep theatrical sigh (she's picked up a few things from Rachel, directly and indirectly through Quinn).
Marley gets her mom a sous vide cookbook, a stack of sturdy plastic bags, and a book of coupons for cooking lessons that she made herself. Millie takes instant joking offence, and demands an Iron Chef-style showdown to determine who's the better chef, with their leftovers from Christmas dinner.
Millie wins only because she monopolized the oven to make muffins with their leftover cranberry sauce, and Marley couldn't resist taking one while it was still hot.
Her mom's always been really good at cooking, but she's best at getting Marley to eat.
The prize for winning, apparently, is for Millie to use Marley's present (a hand-knitted wool throw blanket) while watching TV. Marley has to console herself with her other present – a sweater her mom knitted herself – for the time being. It's a lazy Boxing Day spent on the couch, with plenty of snacks and movies.
Halfway through the Christmas movie marathon, Marley's phone dings.
Hey
hi! U tired of xmas yet? ;)
Yes. This is exhausting I don't know why I put myself through this
presents duh
You sound smug. Good haul?
Marley angles herself so she can snap a selfie of her new sweater (and a corner of her blanket), and sends it to Quinn.
Those look cozy! Did your mom make them?
yes :)))
spoilers bt u hav one too :))))))
try to look srprised ok :))))
I can't wait to see you
Me too ive missed u sooo much
Do you spike your eggnog? Mom does. But by this point she doesn't give a shit and drinks her wine in front of us lol. Frannie is bitter cos she can't have alcohol when she's breastfeeding
Srry to hear tat u kno u can come bck home anytime
How abt now?
Marley sits up so suddenly that she almost tumbles off the couch. It startles Millie, who drops the cracker she's holding back into the bowl. "Goodness, child! What's the matter?"
"Be right back!" calls Marley over her shoulder as she heads for the front door. She finds Quinn on her porch, wrapped up in a large overcoat. "Quinn!"
"Surprise," she says – then grunts, as Marley lifts her up in an enthusiastic hug. "Whoa! Okay, you need to stop that, too full of Christmas food!"
Marley manages to swing her in a quarter circle before setting Quinn back on her feet. "I am so happy to see you," she says, kissing Quinn's forehead quickly. "Wait – how'd you get here? You didn't walk, did you?"
"Of course not. Robert – Frannie's husband – drove me." Quinn has this adorably pouty look on her face, and Marley doesn't understand why until she tugs Marley by the collar and kisses her soundly. "Did you have a good Christmas?"
"Yeah. You?"
Quinn makes a face. "It was… alright, honestly. Things went a lot better than I'd expected; babies are an excellent topic of conversation when you're avoiding other things."
"Marley Rose!" yells Millie from inside. "It's cold outside! If that's Quinn, you best be invitin' her in! Where are your manners, young lady?"
"We have popcorn, and Mom made these amazing cranberry muffins," says Marley, taking Quinn's hand and twining their fingers together. "Also, presents."
"That sounds great."
She could get used to this. She's snug in bed, Quinn a warm and soft weight curled up into her side, the both of them quietly drowsing.
"I told my mom."
There's a pause in which Marley can tell, by the way Quinn stirs beside her, that she was almost asleep. "What did she say?"
"She'll support me, whatever I choose."
"You're lucky to have your mom."
Marley's hand finds Quinn's, and squeezes.
"That doesn't mean I've made a decision yet."
"I know." Quinn sits up so her mouth isn't pressed into the shoulder of Marley's shirt. "If you decide to move back, what are you planning on doing in New York?"
"I don't know yet, I haven't given it much thought," admits Marley. "There are so many things I can do. I'm not under pressure to pay off loans, or worry about where my next meal is coming from, though." She starts stroking Quinn's hair absently. "I'm not blindly rushing into this. There's plenty of time for me to figure it out."
"I know. I'm overreacting."
"No, you aren't. This is another big and scary adult decision and I know you just want the best for me."
Quinn rolls over. "Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"We're opening a branch office in LA. I put in a transfer request."
The hand that's tangled in Quinn's hair stills. "Really?"
"I was going to tell you if my request was approved." Quinn meets her eyes. "But before they told me about LA, I was about to tender my resignation."
Marley has lost the ability to process new information; she simply gapes at Quinn, like she's seeing her for the first time. "Why would you…?"
"I never imagined I would ever feel this way about someone, but you're a huge part of my life. You're talented and special and everything, and I – you said it yourself once. I'm an Ivy League graduate twice over; I could have any job I want." She rests her forehead against Marley's temple. "I love my job, but not as much as I love having you as part of my life."
Marley smiles faintly. "Well, I'm glad you're telling me now. I can't have you moving to LA just when I'm moving to New York."
"... Are you being serious, right now?"
"I don't know," admits Marley. "I'm just – I feel like everything's working out, for once. I'm so happy." She buries her nose in Quinn's hair. "Tell me about the jobs you could have, if you theoretically moved to LA. It could give me ideas on what to do with myself if I theoretically moved back to New York."
She feels Quinn laugh, rather than hear it.
"Happy New Year, Marley." Doctor C beams at her, motioning for her to sit.
"Happy New Year, Doctor C." She sets the small hamper on her therapist's desk. "This was supposed to be for Christmas. Sorry it's a little late."
"Don't worry about it. Better late than never." Eagerly, she tears away the plastic to extract a package of cookies. "I hate to ask, but did your mom make her famous strawberry preserves this year?" She takes a bite and sighs happily.
"She made you a double helping."
The older woman smiles and nods. "Please pass on my thanks."
"Sure."
Doctor C finishes her cookie, and brushes away the last of the crumbs. "So. What's been going on in the life of my favorite client? Plenty of drama?"
Marley blushes. "Not that much."
"Have the holidays been difficult this year?"
"No. I've been eating plenty, and often. I was coaxed into seconds, even."
Doctor C makes a note on her pad. "I'm very glad to hear that. What about in LA?"
"There have been a few difficult times, but Quinn helps. She reminds me to stock up on cereal bars, and she takes an obsessive interest in my diet."
"Even though you live in different time zones?"
"Especially because we live in different time zones."
"Speaking of Quinn, how are the both of you doing? It's quite clear that the two of you are going strong, but is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"
Marley hesitates. Doctor C slides the ubiquitous bowl of candy to her.
"We've had more than our fair share of difficulties," begins Marley softly. "There was an incident in which she was forced to confront some old ghosts from her past. She was upset, and she took it out on me."
"How did that make you feel?"
"Hurt." A piece of candy slips out of her fingers. "Like everything we'd built meant nothing. She was shutting me out. She even said – that she thought we should go our separate ways." The memory hurts, even now. "I know she didn't really mean it, that she was just trying to push me away. I mean – I know it's something she does, and I accused her of doing it before, but when it actually happened I was stunned. It felt like I'd been slapped in the face."
"Have you talked about it since?"
Marley nods. "Yeah, we have. She didn't shy away from that; I'm proud of her."
The therapist nods. "That's good." She writes something else down.
"Quinn has a lot of baggage," she says. Marley picks up another candy, unwrapping it. "Until now, there's a lot I don't know about her. I feel like… she's a Russian doll. Just when I think that's all she's hiding, there's something else big and important that gets revealed. It doesn't directly impact us, but I feel it's important because it's shaped her as a person."
"We've talked about this before," says Doctor C. "Would you say there's been positive or negative progress?"
"Positive. Baby steps, but still steps."
The therapist nods slowly. "One question."
"Yeah?"
"Quinn is clearly a very important part of your life. As much as I think your relationship with her is good and healthy, you've been living apart for nearly a year. I'm a little concerned that I'm not hearing enough about you growing as an individual."
"... What do you mean?"
"Marley, our sessions are about you. My primary concern is your growth and well-being. I'm not a relationship counsellor, where I would be interested in helping the two of you together. Do you understand?"
Marley nods. "Yes."
"What I've been noticing is that your development over the past few years has been closely tied to Quinn. Even moving to different cities hasn't changed that." She clasps her hands together and rests them on the desk in front of her. "So my question is: how much would be different, if – touch wood – you and Quinn were to break up?"
"I… I understand what you're asking me, but I don't think there's any cause for concern. I love what I do in LA. I've started writing songs again."
"What are they about?"
"Quinn." Marley blushes. "Uh, I have friends there."
"Your own circle, or yours and Quinn's circle?"
She throws up her hands in defeat. "Okay. I get it. I guess now would a good time to tell you I'm considering moving back to New York."
"Because the distance is affecting your relationship with Quinn?"
"No."
Doctor C gives her a look.
"... That's part of the reason. But not the only one."
"I know."
Marley stares. "Then why ask?"
"Marley, I'm your therapist. I'm not your life coach, or your mentor. And as your therapist, my only concern is that no matter how impartial and unbiased you think your eventual decision may be, the truth is that it's impossible for you to separate Quinn from the decision-making process altogether." She reaches for another cookie. "I worry that you may be setting yourself up for disappointment."
Marley chews on her bottom lip. "What?"
"You moved out there for a job; that makes sense. The job will still be there regardless of any emotional or mental changes you may undergo. But moving back for someone is a whole other matter altogether. One or the other may change," continues the therapist. "People are a lot less stable than livelihoods."
"So, are you saying I shouldn't move?"
"I'm definitely not saying that. I can't tell you what to do, Marley."
She runs her hand through her hair. "Okay. Can you tell me what you think I should do now?"
Doctor C hides a smile behind her hand. "You have my email. Write me weekly. Tell me five new things you did for yourself, and yourself alone. Signing up for a class, volunteering, buying yourself something new."
"An exercise in individuality?"
"Something like that." The egg timer on the desk goes off. "And on that note, I think this is a good point to end the session."
"Thanks, Doctor C. See you next year."
"Wait, Marley. Before you go…?"
She turns. "Yeah?"
"I don't disapprove of Quinn," says the therapist. "I think she is a wonderful young woman who clearly adores you, and treats you well. But I want you to be able to think for yourself when making major decisions. Do you remember what you told me about your last relationship?"
Alex, with his green Harry Potter eyes. "Yes."
"You mentioned feeling like you'd forgotten parts of yourself when you were with him. Giving up your personal interests in favor of shared ones. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
"Yeah. I don't really like it, but… I do."
Doctor C chuckles. "For the record, you used to come in here and cry throughout our sessions. I think this is a distinct improvement."
Marley shrugs, and gives her an embarrassed smile.
Author's Notes: The chapter title comes from The Bowery by William Ryan Key.