The meeting after lunch concerned the merger. Quinn sat at the table next to two of her coworkers, two men, as they discussed the future of the companies with two other men. She took notes. She drank water. She had to pee. Her role wasn't to speak. Actually, she wasn't really sure what part she played at this meeting. Everything seemed so pointless.
"Quinn?"
She turned her head as she stepped out of the conference room. A woman had called out for her. She was blonde, Quinn's height and build. It took Quinn a few moments to realize that it was Kitty Wilde who stood in front of her.
"Kitty?"
The men in suits eyed them amusedly.
"You look like twins" Quinn colleague Mark said, licking his lips.
Quinn ignored him. Kitty wore a suit too and her hair was up. She couldn't be a lawyer, could she? Quinn doubted that she had the brains for it and anyway, she was too young have been to law school.
"I saw you through the glass wall" Kitty grinned, taking Quinn's hand in hers. "I was so excited to say hi."
"What are you doing here?" Quinn asked. "Do you work at Salzman?"
"Yes" she grinned. "I'm Mr. Parks personal assistant."
"Oh, that's great."
"And you?"
"I'm a lawyer here" Quinn said.
"Really? Wow."
"She just passed the bar" Mark added, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She's just a baby laywer."
She shrugged his hand off and he chuckled. Mark was in his forties and married with kids. Still, he never missed the chance to stare down her blouse.
"It's so nice to see a familiar face" Kitty went on. "I feel so alone sometimes."
"You should call me" Mark grinned. "I'll keep you company."
Mr. Park, one of the lawyers from the other firm, Kitty's boss, told him to shut up and stop harassing his assistant. Kitty beamed at that. They were probably sleeping together.
"Santana and Rachel live here too" Quinn told her.
"I know. I've seen Rachel's face on posters. But I don't really know any of them well enough to just call…"
Quinn didn't really know Kitty either. They had met a few times over the years but they weren't friends. People just expected them to be since they looked a little alike and had had the same interests in High School.
"We should go out and eat together sometime" Quinn suggested, not really knowing why.
Maybe she wanted to save Kitty from her older boss. Maybe she just wanted to be nice to a Lima girl. Kitty grinned at the suggestion.
"I would love that. Give me your number and I'll call you."
Quinn read her the number. The men were still hovering behind them, as if they were hoping for a catfight or a wet t-shirt contest. Quinn tried to forget that they were there but Kitty kept looking up and smiling at them. She had to be new at the job. No one could handle being nice to perverts very long.
"She was hot" Mark muttered when Kitty, Mr. Park and the other lawyer had left.
He looked longingly after the elevator.
"Shut up" Quinn snapped.
God, she hated this job.
…
"I would fit in here, wouldn't I?" Santana asked, her voice muffled.
She lay on her stomach on a beach towel, tanning her back.
"Yeah, this is the only place where your breasts are average size."
"Ha."
In the end, Santana was only needed on set for her pilot for two days but they still stayed a week. The studio paid for a lovely hotel room for the first three nights and they scraped together for a motel for the rest. They were both too poor to do any real sightseeing; instead they strolled down beaches, swam in the ocean and ate at small diners on backstreets.
"Mom wants me to move back home" he said.
"To Lima?"
"Yeah."
"I hope you laughed in her face."
"I did. More or less. But why not? Really? I mean…"
"Because it's Lima."
He sighed. He wanted nothing less than to go back to Detroit. Especially after this week. Being with a real friend made him feel a lot like less like getting drunk and doing something stupid.
"What about New York?" she asked.
"What would I do there?"
"Whatever. You could do anything."
"Where would I live?"
"With me and Rachel."
"That sounds horrible."
Santana laughed.
"She'll move out if you move in. I'm sure of it. She makes too much money to stay in our dumpy place, she just stays because I could never pay rent myself."
He could move here. It was probably cheaper in LA. It was sunnier. The girls were blonder. But he wouldn't. He realized that he had waited for Santana to ask him about New York again. Because this time, he might be ready to say yes.
"What would Quinn say about it?" he asked.
"I asked her" she replied. "She's okay with it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you will be two people amongst like nine million. I think you'll both survive."
"Yeah" he agreed.
"And really, if she said no, she would really be a bitch."
They stayed on the beach until the sun set and the area turned from family friendly to sketchy. The walk back to the motel took ages and when they were back he had made up his mind.
"Okay" he said. "I'll move."
Santana looked smug as she unlocked their door.
"I knew it."
"I still need to quit my job and stay until the lease of my apartment is up."
"They'll be happy to get rid of you" she grinned. "See you in June then?"
"Let's see."
They celebrated with cokes from the vending machine while watching the latest episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians. Santana had once dated one of the sisters (for publicity, of course, for both of them) and was very interested to see how her marriage was going.
"This is what life would be like" she said, nudging his shoulder. "You and me. Sharing a place. It'll be great."
"Yeah, sure" he said sarcastically, nodding at Kim screaming about something.
…
Quinn met Kitty on her own for dinner since Santana was in LA and Rachel was busy almost every night for her show. She picked a pasta place she had been to twice with work since she was terrible at restaurants. She hoped that Kitty wouldn't ask for tips on anything current.
"It's so nice to see you" Kitty said, hugging Quinn closely as if they were best friends.
"You too" Quinn said.
They sat down at one of the free tables. Quinn ordered a pasta and glass of sparkling water. Kitty chose the green salad and glass of white wine. Quinn never drank on work nights but then again, Kitty's job was answering phones. Anyone could do that hung over.
"So, how are you?" Kitty asked . "How did you end up in New York?"
"I went to Law School here. I just graduated. What about you?"
"My major in college was advertising but you know that market these days… It's impossible to get a job so my dad pulled some strings and got me the assistant job."
They shared experiences about the law business. Kitty didn't know much, she was newly hired, but she listened eagerly to Quinn's stories about late nights, sexist bosses and blisters from wearing heels.
"You sound so cynical" Kitty laughed.
"I guess I am."
"I mean, you have a great job."
"Sure."
"But you sound like you kind of hate it."
Quinn changed the subject, asking where Kitty was living (in a room in a friend of her father's penthouse on the Upper West Side) and if she was seeing someone (she wasn't). Quinn didn't ask if she was fucking her boss. It seemed rather harsh.
"What about you? Where do you live?" Kitty asked.
"I live with my… boyfriend" Quinn replied. "In a two bedroom apartment that he gets through Colombia."
"Oh, Puck goes to Colombia?" Kitty asked, her eyes wide. "Wow. I wouldn't have guessed."
"No" Quinn hurried to say. "No. I'm not with Puck anymore.."
"Oh. Sorry. I just… thought."
Kitty looked uncomfortable. Quinn wished that she herself didn't it as well. What if someone thought that she was still dating Puck? It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. But it meant something.
"It's fine" Quinn said.
"Who is your new boyfriend then?"
"Actually, he's not that new" Quinn said. "Not in any sense of the word, I guess. We've been together for a long time. And he doesn't go to Colombia, he teaches there."
Kitty grinned sheepishly. She put her hands on Quinn's on the table in a meaningful way.
"I know the feeling" she hissed as if someone was listening to them. "Older men are so hot."
"Your boss?"
"Yes! How did you know?"
Quinn shrugged.
"I don't know. Trained eye? Henry used to be my professor."
"Wow" Kitty giggled. "Kinky."
"Not really. Not anymore anyway."
Kitty thankfully didn't pick up on the bitterness in Quinn's voice.
"He's not at all like Puck then?"
Quinn took a sip of water. It was safe to talk about him with Kitty. She didn't know about the week at the lake house. With her, Quinn could pretend like she was talk about a former lover that hadn't mattered.
"No" she said finally. "Not at all. He wears tweed and cooks and watches the news every night."
"I could never picture Puck in tweed."
"I know, me neither."
"Have you seen him lately? What does he look like?"
Quinn swallowed. This was girl talk. Nothing more.
"He looks… even better, I guess. Older. More defined. Sharper, somehow. More hair, thankfully."
Kitty giggled. Quinn smiled too. It was liberating being with her because she understood just enough. She knew about Puck and Quinn and their history but not about the mishap. It gave Quinn room to speak about him without feeling guilty or received meaningful looks.
"I think now that I've been with an older guy, I'll never go back to twenty-something boys with all their issues" Kitty said, sighing.
"Yeah, I get it."
"It's just the sense of security, you know."
Quinn forced a smile. She hated her own word, the ones she always repeated about safety, come out of Kitty's mouth. Mr. Park was too old for her. He was her boss. He was in the wrong by dating his secretary. It was wrong to Kitty and the wife he probably had and to all the other secretaries he had slept with before her. There was nothing romantic about the situation.
…
"Did you date other students before me?"
She had never asked him before. Mostly because she hadn't really cared. In college, when she never thought their relationship would become this serious, she had expected to just be one in the line of girls who visited his office. When he divorced Mary, she had become unsure, but it had never bothered her. Not until the talk with Kitty.
"What?" Henry asked, looking up from the paper he was reading.
They were on the couch together. Henry was reading. Quinn was looking at the TV but not seeing what was on.
"Were the other girls before me?" she asked.
"Why do you suddenly care about this now?"
"I don't really. I mean, I just need to know. I won't be upset."
He folded up the paper, looking seriously at her. That was a yes. There had been girls before her. Quinn didn't even feel jealous about it.
"You weren't the first" he told her. "I… was unhappy in my marriage for a long time, Quinn. I needed pleasure and comfort in a way that Mary couldn't give me."
"Okay" she said. "Why did you choose me?"
He smiled and scratched his head.
"You were so beautiful. I wish I could say that it was about your intellect, but when I invited you to my office the first time, I didn't even know you. You were just so… lovely sitting there and looking at me."
She knew that she was supposed to feel flattered and pleased by his words. Instead, she felt worse. She was his Kitty. A beautiful blonde girl he could use for his own needs.
"I was nineteen" she said. "Barely."
"Quinn" he groaned. "You sound like everyone else. Like Mary. Like your friends."
"Maybe they have a point."
"You were beautiful and fragile. I wanted to help you" he said. "It wasn't just sex, you know that. We talked a lot. About your child and about… Puck and…"
"I know" she said. "I know."
He looked at her sharply, like he looked at his students when answered incorrectly in class. She couldn't believe she was actually saying these things. Henry was right, she did sound like the people who had told her to stop being used by a middle aged man.
"Why did you leave Mary for me?" she asked. "And not for the other girls?"
He cleared his throat. God, he looked old just now. Tired. And disappointed in her. Like the professor he was. She kept flashing back to sitting and listening to him talk about Freud and Lacan. She had felt nothing for him then.
"I loved you" he said.
"That can't be it."
"It… The timing was right" he said.
"The timing?"
"I had got this job at Colombia. I was moving to New York. She didn't want to. You were moving here too. It was like the universe wanted us to be together."
She stared at him for a long time. She felt like the teenager in the lecture hall, looking at the man who looked too often at her. She remembered how he had touched her arm in his office months later. Kissed her. Pushed her against his desk.
"Or maybe you didn't want to be alone" she whispered.
She couldn't stay here. It was a lie. He had told her that passion and strong emotions were childish because they had never had it and he still wanted her to be with him. And she had believed him. Because he had been her professor. And she had been a kid when he had kissed her and told her facts about life that weren't true.
"I'm going to Rachel's" she said. "I… I'll call you."
…
Rachel didn't come home until late. She had a show. Of course. She always had a show. Quinn sat on the stairs for two hours and waiting. When Rachel finally arrived, she made them tea with whisky and heated up some vegan pizza before even asking what was up. Quinn was thankful, she didn't know what to say.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, please."
"You can take Santana's room. She's not back until Friday."
"Thanks."
Rachel didn't watch the news. She found a black and white film on some channel Quinn had never noticed before. Quinn turned her phone off even though Henry hadn't called.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Rachel asked. "I find that discussing issues with a friend helps in most cases."
"I don't know what to say really."
"Okay."
"I don't know where to start."
"Start anywhere then" Rachel encouraged.
"I met Kitty."
"Who?"
"Kitty Wilde."
"Who?"
"From Lima? She dated Puck's little brother. Cheerleader. Blonde."
"Oh" Rachel said. "Right. I know her. You met her? Where?"
"At work. She works for a rivaling law firm as an assistant or secretary, I can't remember which."
"Okay" Rachel said slowly, as if she was trying to understand what Quinn meant by sharing this piece of information.
"She's dating her boss. Or sleeping with him."
"Okay."
"And she thinks that it is romantic. Even though he is more than twice her age and has power over his since he pays her salary. And I'm pretty sure he's still married. Has kids. Even grandkids."
Rachel nodded.
"Right" she said softly.
Quinn looked at the TV. The man and the woman were slow dancing over an empty dance floor. Music was playing. Someone applauded. She looked back to Rachel.
"I don't want you to hate him" she said.
"Henry?"
"Yes."
"I won't. I promise."
"I wasn't the first of Henry's students but I was the one, to use his words, had the best timing."
Rachel frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"I fit into his plan. He could leave his wife and move to New York, where I was moving. It was a perfect plan."
"Do you really think he is that calculating?"
"No, probably not consciously."
"But still?"
"He told me, from the beginning, that my classmates were idiots when they fell passionately love. How they were children, more or less. I never wanted to be to a child in his eyes so I believed him."
"And now?"
"I think he was wrong. Or lied. And that I missed out on all of it."
Rachel smiled. She leaned over and touched Quinn's shoulder lightly.
"Quinn, you're twenty-eight" she said. "You haven't missed out."
"I wasted almost ten years feeling hardly anything for someone."
"Is that really how you feel?"
Quinn shrugged. She tried to remember moments of absolute pleasure or joy in Henry's company. The closest she could muster up was the feeling of excited fear when faced with the possibility of getting caught in his office. It had been fun to sneak around, to know things that she couldn't tell her friends. After a few months, she realized that no one was suspecting that they were having a relationship. Or no one cared and the elation of excitement disappeared.
"I don't know how I would be without Henry" she told Rachel. "I don't know where I would be if I hadn't met him."
"Maybe it's time to figure it out."
"Maybe."
They watched the ending of the movie then Rachel washed off her stage makeup and went to bed. Quinn slept on Santana's sheets. They smelled like her. It was oddly soothing.
…
Saying goodbye didn't feel sad this time, Puck thought as he and Santana stood in the security line at LAX. He had to do it now, leave Toronto and Cindy and the dullness of it all. He had promised. He had sworn. And more than that, he really wanted to.
"I just have to check" Santana said as she fanned herself with her ticket. "You're actually going to quit your job?"
"First thing on Monday."
"And it's because you want to live with me and in New York and so on?"
"Yes."
"Not because Quinn lives there too?"
He snorted.
"No, I'm moving to New York despite the fact that she lives there."
Santana kissed his forehead in glee and then patted his cheek, looking almost sad.
"You sound like you did before" she said. "You sound like you hate her again. Like that week didn't happen and you still refuse to admit that you love her."
"It's easier this way."
She didn't protest. She never spoke about Brittany and he never asked. In many ways, it was like the reunion had never happened. They were all back at square one. But at least he was leaving it. He was doing something. He was moving on, even if he was moving closer.
"Do you want me to tell how much I hate Henry or will it only make it worse?" she asked.
He shrugged.
"I don't think it matters either way."
They moved up in the line. Puck only had a small backpack to shove through the x-ray machine. Santana had a thousand small bottles in individual plastic bags. If she got stuck, he would have to leave her. His flight was due to leave in an hour.
"He patronizes her" Santana said. "And she allows it. I don't know which is worse."
"She must really love him."
"She's a fucking lawyer. Got into one of the best law schools in the country and got hired by like the best firm. And he talks to her like she's a child."
"Wow."
"I know."
"Actually, I think this makes me feel worse" he said.
"That she picked that dick over you?"
"Yeah" he grinned. "Exactly."
As he had guessed, he was through security checkpoint in the matter of seconds, while Santana got stuck with her tiny bottles (they weren't that tiny, it seemed. Too large to be taken aboard). He had to run.
"Santana" he called. "I'll miss my flight."
She looked up from her perfume or shampoo or whatever it was and blew him a kiss.
"See you in New York" she called back.
…
He told Steve and the other guys that he was leaving. They all seemed sad but no one mentioned the shop going under without him. During the last couple of weeks, he had been useless and not only because of his bad shoulder.
"I have a friend who owns a car dealership in Tenafly. If you get desperate, call me and I'll help you out" Steve promised.
Puck thanked him even though he had no idea where Tenafly was. And he didn't really want to sell cars. Actually, he felt done with cars. He had spent almost all of his adult years fixing cars.
"I'll think about it" he said.
He said goodbye to Cindy a week later. She didn't even look him in the eye as he told her about New York. He even apologized to her about that hazy morning when he had used her for company. She didn't reply to any of it. He felt bad about her hating him but realized that the best thing for them both was probably him leaving.
"I booked my ticket" he told Santana over the phone.
"When are you landing?"
"Around three on Wednesday."
"Okay" she said, as if she was calculating something in her head.
"What?"
"Nothing" she replied. "Get a cab or shuttle. You know the address, right?"
"Sure."
"Puck?"
"Yeah" he said.
"Well… No, it's nothing" she sighed. "I'll see you Wednesday. Have a safe flight."
He hung up. He packed up all things he didn't want and dropped them off at a homeless shelter downtown. He packed two suitcases full of stuff. He packed two other which he dropped off in Lima. His mother kissed him and hugged him.
"I'm glad you're doing something with your life" she said.
"Thanks" he said dryly.
"You're not moving there to be with her, are you?"
"With Santana?" he asked, playing stupid. "Sure."
"Quinn" his mother said. "Are you moving to New York to be closer to her?"
He groaned.
"I wish that people could stop asking me that."
She kissed his cheeks again. She promised to come and visit him soon. Maybe take Hanna with her. She didn't worry about the fact that he didn't have a job or real place to stay. All she had been worried about was Quinn.
…
"He's coming on Wednesday" Santana told her.
Quinn looked up from the case she was reading on the couch. She had been able to avoid Henry for almost a week by going home at lunch to get clothes and staying at Rachel and Santana's. It wasn't a solution, though. She knew that. And to top it off, Puck was coming to stay.
"Okay" she said.
"Maybe it's time that you talk it out with your partner."
Quinn hadn't told her about the fight. Not in so many words, anyway. Santana's hatred of Henry would cloud her judgment and make it impossible for her to discuss the situation. Quinn had just said that she needed some time to figure things out, which wasn't really a lie.
"I'll go home tomorrow after work."
She went back to reading the case file. It was ridiculously boring. Tax fraud. She pushed it away. Everything was boring.
"Have you heard anything about the show?" she asked Santana. "Are you picked up?"
"Not yet. Soon, though."
"I could read a hundred of those contracts instead of this boring file."
"Like I said, you're hired when I'm the next Rihanna."
"Rihanna isn't an actress."
"Fine, when I'm the actress version of Rihanna."
Quinn looked around the apartment. Where was Puck going to sleep? On this very couch, probably. Quinn had slept there herself, it was fairly comfortable. He would manage. He wasn't very picky.
"You shouldn't stop coming around just because Puck will live here" Santana said.
"I'll learn his schedule and sneak in when he's out."
"That's mature."
"Thanks."
The idea of him being here, so close, was terrifying. She still didn't know why he had called her in the middle of the night. And she still couldn't stop thinking about it. It was just a phone call and she was dying to know what he had wanted to tell her.
"Don't let Henry talk you into something you don't want" Santana told her.
"Like what?" Quinn asked, raising her eyebrows.
"I don't know. An engagement?"
"Henry doesn't believe in marriage. He tried it once already, remember?"
"Okay… A kid?"
"He tried that too, San."
"Well, I don't know. Just don't let him force you into anything."
"I'll do my best to keep my backbone" Quinn said tersely.
"Thanks" Santana grinned. "That's all I wanted to know."
…
When Henry came back from work the next day, she was waiting for him. He lit up at the sight of her. She felt herself cower in her corner. It was easy to imagine asking him the hard questions but in person, he had so much more authority than she did. He seemed taller, wider, smarter. She felt like a dumb little school girl.
"Hello" she said.
"Hi, darling."
He never called her pet names like that. It was an unspoken agreement. She guessed that it followed along the lines of not really being in love with each other.
"I'm glad you're back."
"Thanks."
He kissed her. It could have been a fatherly kiss. No passion. God, was all she thought about passion?
"What do you want for dinner?" he asked. "Anything."
Clearly, he thought that the argument was over. For a shrink, he was very good at ignoring problems.
"Anything" she repeated, tasting the word.
"Anything" he echoed.
"Chicken?"
He smiled.
"Sure."
This could be the rest of her life. She realized that. Almost always pain free. Chicken for dinner. This nice apartment that Colombia had helped them with. Year after year with companionship in front of the news or working side by side. All she had to do was shut up and this life was hers. But she couldn't.
"How did you and Mary meet?" she asked.
Henry looked surprised but not upset. He probably thought this was further proof of that she had accepted their life and moved on.
"We met in high school" he said. "She was much, much cooler than I, but went to prom with my anyway. I still, thirty-five years later, can't believe it."
"Were you in love with her?"
"Yes. Fiercely."
"Were you ever in love with me?"
He sighed.
"Quinn-"
"You weren't. Not like you were with Mary."
"Mary and I were kids. Teenagers. I was eighteen when we started dating."
"I was almost the same age when I met you."
"And you weren't in love with me?"
"No, not like that."
He turned away from her, opened the fridge and started selecting ingredients. He hummed quietly, as if he was still pretending that everything was fine.
"Don't you want to feel that way you did when you dated Mary?" she asked. "Don't you feel crazy with love?"
"Mary and I got divorced, Quinn" he reminded her. "That kind of love can never last. It burns and burns and burns and you think it will burn for your entire life, but it doesn't."
"It's better to feel less?"
"I stopped being in love with Mary before we graduated from college. It took maybe three or four years before the flame was gone. We should have broken up then, of course, but… well, I guess we both remembered those passionate first years and stuck together. So we got married and had children and bought a house" he told her. "But it was never… comfortable. Not like it is with you, because Mary and I… we could have had more."
"And we couldn't?"
"Quinn, we've been together for more than five years and we almost never fight. I still feel the same for you as I did five years ago. That's amazing. Don't you think?"
"Not if you don't really feel anything."
He began to cut the chicken into pieces. She didn't offer to help. She didn't set the table. She just stood there and watched him.
"I was in love with him" she said. "With Puck."
Henry didn't reply but he stopped humming. Maybe he was cutting the meat a bit harder than he had before.
"It was a stupid and reckless and destructive love" she said. "And it was wonderful and compassionate and liberating."
"You broke up" Henry said. "Just like me and Mary."
"We were kids."
"You can't use that explanation when you feel like it and reject it when you don't" he told her.
"Fine. Our friend had just died. We were upset and stupid and handled it badly. I could probably have done and said the same things now."
He heated up a frying pan and poured oil into it. The chicken slices sizzled as they hit the hot surface.
"What is your point here, Quinn?" Henry said, finally turning to look at her again.
All the tension and fight seemed to leak out of her. It was easier to be tough when he wasn't looking directly at her.
"I don't know" she said.
"Do you want to have more sex? Less time by the TV? More romantic weekends?"
"No" she almost whispered. "I just want… more."
They ate in silence. The chicken tasted burnt but she didn't comment on it. That night Henry reached over in bed and placed a hand on her stomach. She rolled away from him.
…
It had to be fate that the day he arrived was the day that she left Henry. She didn't think of it like that. Actually, because of all the fighting and tense silences, she had almost forgotten that he was coming. No, she hadn't forgotten. It had slipped her mind. All she could think about was what she was going to do about her life. She sat in the office she shared with three other people and pretended to read case files. She ate lunch alone; thinking about how she had ended up here. She came home from work and didn't talk to Henry. Not until Wednesday. And it was he who brought it up.
"We need to talk about this" he said.
"Yes" she said and nothing else because she still no idea what to say.
"I think that you have the choice of accepting our life or moving on."
"Yes" she repeated.
He looked older every time she looked at him, it seemed. Frailer. Less imperious. He wanted her to stay. Maybe not for the reasons she wanted, but still. For the first time ever in their relationship, she felt like she had the upper hand.
"This is the life we wanted" he said, taking her hand softly. "Don't you remember? We've talked about this? About a place of our own. You working at Lewis & Stroke. Togetherness. Dependency and individuality."
She nodded because it was true. They had talked about it. Discussed life goals. They were both the kind of people who had life goals. She had wanted to go to law school. To work at a good firm. To make a difference. Henry wanted to further his research. Leave New Haven. Maybe go a term to Spain.
"I hate my job" she said.
"Quinn…."
"No, I do. It's horrible and boring and I hate it."
She knew that she sounded like a spoiled brat. Like the little rich kid that she was. Henry looked at her like she was a child too. In his eyes, she kind of was. It was something they could never escape.
"You haven't been there that long" Henry said.
"Long enough."
"Quinn, this was your dream."
"Was it?"
They had agreed on the future. No kids. No suburbs. No marriage. They weren't like everyone else, didn't need to prove their love or fidelity. He had children already. She had too, kind of. They didn't need to adapt to societal rules. Their relationship was stronger than that.
"I can't remember why I wanted this" she said.
"Any of it?" he asked.
"This job… Why did I think that I wanted to work with company merges?"
"It is the best firm."
"I always wanted to be the best. That's the issue."
"There's nothing wrong with that" Henry assured her.
"You always wanted me to be the best."
He pulled his hand back, crossing his arms. Instinctively defensive. He had taught her that in Freshman Psych.
"Do you think that this is all my fault? Because I wanted you to succeed? To do great?"
"No" she hurried to say. "I just… I don't know."
"You didn't want to become like your mother" Henry reminded her, his voice still guarded. "A housewife with no education or aspiration. Trapped within her home. A modern angel of the house. You wanted more. Always. Even before you met me."
"Yes, I know."
"Are you saying that you want kids? Children? A marriage? A domestic life?"
His tone was so sharp it made her finch. She backed away from him.
"I don't know."
They weren't going anywhere. She began to talk in circles around the apartment. Henry stood still and watched her. In the end, he reached out and pulled her to a halt.
"Quinn" he began. "You're still so young. I understand if you want… more adventure. I would be stupid if I didn't understand that."
"I don't want adventure" she spat. "I just don't want…"
She trailed off. Henry let go of her again. Her hand fell to her side.
"You just don't want me?" he filled in.
She didn't correct him.
…
"It's not like I tricked you into this" he said.
They were in bed. The lights were off. She couldn't see him, just feel and hear him, next to her on the bed.
"I know" she replied.
"You needed someone too. Just like I did."
"I know."
"You were broken. I helped you to feel better."
"Yes."
She felt him shift next to her. How could it be that he was still so physical close to her but so mentally far away?
"I don't think it makes it better, though" she said. "We both just wanted someone. Not each other."
This smell of him. Would it leave her skin if she left? He smelled nice. Safe. She was used to smelling like him, smelling his impression on her skin. She didn't remember her own scent. Did she even have one?
"I'm not the bad guy here" he said and that was when she realized that he had given in.
They were over. She lay in his bed, three inches away from him but it was the last time. He sounded resigned. Defensive. On damage control.
"I know, Henry" she whispered into the darkness.
"What are you going to do?"
She wished that he hadn't asked because she didn't know what to say. All she could think about now was that she was leaving him. She had never ever thought that she would be the one walking out of this. He was more experienced and more intelligent and still she was one ending it all.
"I think I'm going to quit my job" she replied.
"You know what I mean" he sighed. "Are you going to go to him?"
"I don't know" she said.
It struck her that she owned so little in this world. All the furniture was his. The apartment too, of course. She had her clothes and her shoes and that was it. She would be going to from a full life to living out of a suitcase.
"He might not be solution, Quinn" Henry warned her. "He might break your heart again. You might stop loving him."
"I know" she said (it seemed like it was all she said). "But I want a shot. The same you had, when you were my age, with Mary."
"Even it leads to divorce and heart ache?"
His tone was bitter now. He was going to be alone too. Would he find another student? Or was he finally too old? Quinn realized that she didn't care.
"I think it's worth the risk."
"You're still a child in so many ways."
She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. He hadn't been able to turn her completely into a grown up, despite the fact that they both had tried hard. A piece of her was still rebelling against the pant suit and the quiet nights and the lack of passion.
"He might not want me" she said.
"Quinn, I don't want to talk about him."
"You brought him up."
"My mistake."
They were quiet for some time. His breathing remained uneven, he wasn't asleep yet. She felt like she wouldn't sleep at all. Her entire body was tingling with excitement or fire or something in between.
…
She cried when she packed her life into the only two suitcases she owned. She cried when she found her clothes intermixed with his. She cried when he took her name off the door and held his hand out for her key. Right then, she wanted to take it all back.
"This is what you wanted" he kept saying.
"I know" she kept repeating.
It was so sudden. It was unplanned. She wasn't used to things happening without being in her calendar.
"You could still change your mind" he said.
She almost nodded. Then she thought of Mary and his students and of Santana and of children she might want to have. She tried not to think of Puck, because she wasn't doing like Henry had done, leaving one person for another. That wasn't fair. She was moving on with herself.
"I still love you" she said instead.
He took the key from her. She would never come back. The thought was frightening. Terrifying.
"Should I get you a cab?" he asked.
Gone was all softness. She was nobody to him now. A former student. Someone who had once sat in the back of his lecture hall.
"Thanks" she whispered.
They didn't kiss when they parted. They didn't touch at all. She clambered into a yellow cab and told the driver Santana and Rachel's address. He stood on the street and watched at the car drove off. An old man. He looked ancient now. A part of her past.
"You moving out?" the driver asked.
"Yes" she replied.
"Bad or good?"
"Both, I guess."
"Your daddy looked sad."
She laughed. She laughed too loudly and too shrilly. She laughed because it would be the last time someone mistook Henry for her father. She was done with that.
"He'll get over it" she said.
The cab ride took a long time. She had chosen to move at the height of traffic. She didn't mind.
"Here we are" the driver told her at last.
She paid him and retrieved her bags from the back. She ran up the stairs and knocked on the door. Hard. She grabbed the handle, pressing it down to show how badly she had to get in.
"Calm down" she heard Santana's voice from the inside.
She unlocked the door and Quinn stumbled inside. She dropped her bags and flung herself around the neck of Santana.
"I did it" she said.
That was when she saw him. When she remembered. That was here. He had arrived yesterday. How could she had forgotten? How had it slipped her mind? He stood there in hallway, looking at her like she was an alien or the Loch Ness monster. She had said that it would be easy to stay away from him in this big city and she hadn't even been able to avoid him for twenty-four hours.