Breakdown
(Rachel)
My plan was to spend two weeks in New York. Preferably, two weeks indoors, away from clubbing, fans eyes, paparazzi, gossip, candids, and even friends. I deserved some rest after intense season in L.A filming Slings and Arrows and all the scene I had to do to make my name known. I was still a C-List at Hollywood world, even thought I was quite an A-List at Broadway world after being a Tony's nominee for Across The Universe and have made another three musical plays. Last month I hired a coach to help me with the character I will do in an indie film. Because of that, I was practicing my Spanish, improving my pronunciation at the point to be better than Santana. On my little vacation in New York, I was also planning to dedicate a little more time at my studio and try to write some songs and also take care of my room and take away things that Santana stuck in my closet.
All these things seemed so important when I returned to New York. And all of this lost value in the second my father called me to break the news: abuela passed away.
Quinn asked a few days at work to accompany me back to Lima for the funeral that was going to happen three days after the death, just to wait for the family to meet in full. Santana interrupted her vacation in Hawaii and faced a long flight to be here. She arrived exhausted at dawn in the Cleveland airport. She, Johnny and my grandparents from the Berry side were already on way to the funeral. Julio and Mercedes came by car from Chicago, Tia Rosa arrived with whole family from Indiana, and my parents, who had moved definitively to Columbus, were in their way.
Everyone settled as possible in available homes in Lima. Tia Maria stayed Tia Rosa and family. Judy Fabray was kind enough to have me at her house. It was the first time that I slept one night there. My parents would come from Columbus but I doubt that papi would to stay in town after the funeral.
"Hello girls. The sun is shining..." I heard Judy's voice invading Quinn's old room. I didn't believe she had the chutzpah to invade the room of a couple. Quinn and I were just cuddling, but we could be doing something else. Not that I was in the spirit and mood to do anything else.
"Jesus Christ, mother!" Quinn groaned loudly and I wanted to hide under the covers because I was shirtless.
"But you said I should warn you if you lose time. It's almost eleven. You should eat something and sunbathe before de funeral."
"A knock on the door would be enough!" Quinn complained for both of us.
"I knocked on the door several times before taking this drastic measure, Quinnie!" Was she going to give us privacy? Was it possible? "Shelby called me because Rachel didn't answer her cell. She wanted to say that she and Juan just arrived in Lima in two cars because of Rachel and her sister. So, you girls will have one to drive back to Columbus after the funeral, if it is your wish."
"Thank you, Judy." I said.
She nodded and finally left. I relaxed a little more and felt the comforting arm of my girlfriend around my waist. She pulled me in order to make me closer against her body.
"Sorry to make you go through it." I said softly and kissed her.
"Do not apologize for it, Rach. Know that I am here to provide the support you need."
"Thank you."
I had no words. I just wanted to thank my girlfriend and kissed her again. Then, my stomach complained. That's ok, because I wouldn't do more than kiss at that moment. We put some clothes on, went to the kitchen and found the table still set. Judy didn't question the fact that we are there eating breakfast at lunch time. After all, hunger hit after having spent almost a whole day without eating. When we left the table, it was time to get ready. I put a black dress, Judy also wore a black one, but not Quinn, who opted for a dark blue one. We put our bags in the car and Judy drove us to the St. Mary church in Lima Heights Adjacent, community that abuela worked for during the time she lived in the United States.
Quinn and I walked hand in hand in a place that was incredibly crowded, so they had to reserve seats only for the family. Abuela was a strong woman who had a positive impact in the community and the response of her actions was there: there were all kind of people sitting, standing in the aisles and some other outside: the seamstresses from the cooperative, people from the church, the little farmers, family friends, dangerous-looking people, gang member or something that abuela tried to help. Even preacher Brody, a severe republican that loved argue with abuela about politics, was there paying his respect.
I stared at the crowd in amazement and people looked back with silent vote of condolence. I further squeezed Quinn's hand and made a tremendous mental exercise to not cry right there.
When I arrived at the seats reserved for family, I saw that almost everyone was there, but aunt Rosa. In silence, I gave my father and aunt Maria a tight hug. She seemed stronger, more resigned than the others. My father had swollen eyes and haggard appearance. I hugged zaide, bubbee and then exchanged a long hug to my sister, who was also very tired.
"Say this is not happening..." I whispered in her ear.
"I wish I could, Ray."
She wiped a tear on my face, rehearsed a smile and I left her alone to talk with others: Johnny, my cousins, my friends. The ceremony began shortly after the arrival of aunt Rosa. The priest made a short speech about the numerous actions abuela made in the community and what a strong and special woman she was.
Abuela's link with religiosity always came involved with politics, in a way. As a member of the Communist Party of Chile, Miranda Echevera Lopez, my abuela, helped in many social work undertaken by priests in Chile. She left school when she was 14, but she read everything: Karl Marx, Dostoievski, Hanna Arendt, John Locke, John Reed, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Pablo Neruda, José Saramago… even Michael Moore. She attracted the attention of a 16 years older Chilean intellectual, and married him. I can't remember it, because Santana and I were two when Ernesto passed away, but papi told us all the interesting discussions abuela and her husband used to have.
After the dictatorship in Chile, some priests helped the Lopez family escape, since my grandparents were targeted by the military. They left the country in 1977 and took refuge in US. After some years, they all became American citizens.
While Ernesto Lopez worked at the OSU's campus in Lima, Miranda tried to solve the difficulties to adapt in such a different country, raise her kids, and somehow continue the community work she loved to do. That was when she learned to speak her odd English and became one of the most beloved people of Lima Heights Adjacent and the of the Latino community.
When the priest asked if the family had prepared a speech, uncle Pedro arose. He looked at abuela in the coffin and took out a paper.
"Good afternoon." He said shy. "I met Miranda and the Lopez family in this church. They had just running away from a dictatorship, unlike me, that I ended up here by the dream of an opportunity. It was here that I met my wife, Maria. When I sit on those seats, I always remember that." He gave a short break. "Miranda was known to all of us to be a wise counselor, one unifying woman, a leader of our community. Few of you know, despite this is not a secret, that she liked to write little thoughts in moleskins. They were messages that she put on paper whenever she felt like it. The last she wrote was eight months ago. She said:
"They asked me what would be my New Year's wish. I've never thought about it because my desires have no date or time to happen. I have desires at any moment: the most trivial to the most valuable. Even so, I stopped to think about it.
Here I am in my old age, going to the end of my life. I realize that I do not have desires for myself. My wishes are for others, for these young heads of my family and my dear friends. I wish these people who I love, to know that they should live intensely and not be afraid of it.
I want everyone to be happy, but be patient because finding real happiness is not even an easy search. I wish health to walk in this life and vision in the hour of great decisions, which sometimes comes in small moments. I wish love. I want each one to find their soul mates, as I found mine.
I wish the arduous search for knowledge, because it's everything we take from this life: experiences, works and wisdom. I wish goodwill and practice the true charity because those are the true food of the spirit. I wish fight, honesty and greatness of spirit. That's all I wish for these young minds so that they can look back and know that they lived intensely, were worthy, and reaped good results. - Miranda Lopez"
Uncle Pedro left the altar under applause. My vision was blurred by tears. To my surprise, Julio, Daniela and Santana were the next to rise. My cousin, guitar in hand, took the microphone.
"Abuela dijo que conoció Violeta Parra. Era su cantante favorito. Cuando nosotros, los nietos, éramos pequeños, abuela contaba historias de Chile. Y cantaba. Esse era su canción favorita. Rachel? Puede venir?"
I was surprised and I hesitated to go the aisle to join my sister and my older cousins. Julio sat down on a chair and played a few notes. I knew the main songs of Violeta Parra, but I didn't know if I would remember the lyrics. Julio began to play and Santana made the main voice.
"Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto/Me dio dos luceros que, cuando los abro,
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco/ y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado/ y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo."
Daniela and I began to harmonize with Santana as she continued to sing prettily.
"Gracias a La vida que me há dado tanto/ Me há el oído, em todo su ancho/ Graba noche y dia grillos y canários/ martillos, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos/ Y La voz tan tierna de mi bien amado."
I took the lead vocals of the next lines.
"Gracias a La vida que me há dado tanto/ Me há dado el sonido y el abecedario/ com El lãs palabras que pienso y declaro/ madre, amigo, Hermano, y luz alumbrado/ La ruta del alma del que estoy amando."
I began to thrill to see my father turning his face to the side, trying to control his tears. I only saw my father crying freely once in my life. It was the day that Daddy died. And there was he trying to hold back without success. I tried to keep singing with my voice more blurred.
"Gracias a La vida que me há dado tanto/ me há dado La marcha de mis pies cansados/ com ellos anduve ciudades y charcos/ playas y desiertos, motañas y llanos/ y La casa tuya, tu calle y tu pátio."
I couldn't do it more. I let my sister and my cousins sing the rest of the song. Quinn looked at me this time. She was teary-eyed, trying to give me strength even from there.
I hadn't realized, but several people were humming the song with us and it made me even more emotional. Santana took my hand and led me back to the seats. Quinn wrapped me in her arms and didn't pay attention when one of the community members took the mic and speech.
Perhaps the song has been very little to represent the family in front of others. I didn't know what kind of impression it should leave. What could I say? Maybe something humorous in that she was right when she insisted that to make a good cake you should first mix the eggs, butter and sugar together. Santana use to say "the order of the factors doesn't change the product." The mathematics of cooking is quite different: one day I tried to make cake in New York. I put all the ingredients in the mixer and let them mixing for a while. When I tasted the mass, I realized it was missing something: sugar. I put the ingredient and hit just a little more. The cake was a disaster. Abuela was right: the order of the ingredients does matter!
Or maybe I should confess that I, Rachel Berry-Lopez, the Broadway actress who lives in New York, forgot to invite my own grandmother for a trip to one of the world's capital and see me acting. I forgot to invite that old lady who tried to watch all my amateur performances in Lima, that encouraged me to follow my dreams when I was crying in her backyard because Santana, Daniella or some classmate made a cruel comment. Abuela watched me singing along with amateur theater group of the city. They were boring stuff, I now realize that, but she did it because she loved me. Still, I didn't have the courage even to visit her when she was wasting away... I avoided her. I didn't care about her feelings or anyone else. Now it was too late. I felt like the worst of human beings. Just thinking about it, I got sick and had to run out of the church to breathe fresh air.
I supported my hand on the wall outside and threw up on the grass.
"Rach?" Quinn had followed me.
"I'm a horrible person, Quinn." I said between sobs. "The most selfish person in the world... How can you stand next to someone as bad as me? How can you continue with me after all I've done to you?"
"What did you do to me, Rachel?"
"I wanted to punish you because you cheated on me... I felt a pain so immense that I swore to myself I would not let it happen again. I got cold with you, I focused my energy on my career because I didn't want to think of us, I purposely put barriers on our relationship. I put you in difficulty. I wanted to kill you slowly inside me, Quinn. I didn't want to suffer so much if that happen again. I was purposely horrible to you, however, you're still with me."
My voice came out blurry, clumsy, which I wasn't even sure if she understood right, because all she did was hugging me. How was it possible? How could anyone want to stay with me after all I've done?
"Is it all right?" I heard Mercedes and barely had the energy to lift my face and look at my friend.
"Rach just got a little sick." Quinn assured as I cradled her in her arms. "Don't worry: everything is under control." Mercedes left to my relief. I needed time to calm down.
Quinn only freed me from her embrace when we saw people leaving. It was the final moment. My father, uncle Pedro, Julio and three men of the community, close friends of abuela, led the coffin to the car that would transport her to the cemetery. I didn't want to go there. I had no more strength to see the coffin going down. Seeing my daddy's was enough for a life.
"Ray?" Santana came to me and Quinn. "Johnny and I are taking Shelby's car and go straight to Columbus. Will you go to the cemetery?"
"No." I said wiping away my tears. "I'd rather go with you."
She nodded. Quinn went to her mother's car and took our packs. I didn't bother to say goodbye to people. I just wanted to get out. I was feeling the worst of human beings, and took the road to Columbus would be a relief. Quinn took the direction since it was impossible for me and Santana drive with maximum attention. It was almost two hours of the most quiet road trip I've ever done, and I needed that.
"Where is the new home of your parents?" Quinn asked as we entered the city. I had no idea, nor Santana. None of us have been there before. All we knew is that our parents were already in the new house and it was still reforming.
"Upper Chelsea Road." Santana consulted the GPS and went on to say directions.
It wasn't hard to find the new address. The neighborhood was good, the same socioeconomic level that we lived in Lima. And when we came across the house after made a little mistake with the streets, we came across a two-story house with modern design, but smaller than the one we had. There was a container in front and we could see construction debris and empty paint cans in it. Santana triggered the garage opener so Quinn could park the car.
Santana tried some of the keys to open the door. When she made it, we saw that the garage was connected to a corridor leading to the access to the basement, on one side, two small rooms with double bed in each and a shared bathroom on the side other side, and the same corridor lead to the living room. The kitchen was done, but the living room was still a go with stacked boxes, and plastic lined the floor to avoid drips and fresh paint stains. The walls were freshly painted and finished. There was a fireplace in the living room and it was connected to a space that could be the dining room or a second room. I thought it would be a dining room because it was next to the kitchen and that led to the stairs to the second floor. The dining room had some pads in the corners, and it gave access to the backyard. Upstairs there was a huge master bedroom that was easy to understand that it was my parents, with one hell closet and bathroom. The closet was still messy, full of boxes, there wasn't a curtain in the room but the bathroom was ok. There were only other room with a smaller bathroom upstairs, it wasn't difficult to presume it was Beth's by the single bed, wardrobe and boxes with toys.
"I think the two bedrooms downstairs near the garage are ours." Santana said with some embarrassment. "But the house is beautiful. I liked it a lot."
"Yes, It is. I liked it too." And we went downstairs.
"The basement is very nice." Johnny said with moderate enthusiasm. "It has a bar counter there, apparent stones and even a stylish difference of a step. And it seems to be reinforced in case of storms."
"The backyard one." She replied without hesitation. "This house has no curtains yet..."
"Fine..." I wasn't willing to give a show for the neighborhood anyway.
The bed was still wrapped in plastic. I would throw myself on it if not for the dust. I silently asked for help. Quinn understood and we both took off the protecting plastic. Only then I threw myself over and closed my eyes.
…
I woke up covered with a blanket and a pillow with pillowcase under my head. From that little bedroom, I could listen the continued movement of noise around the house. My parents were already at home, circling, fixing this and that with Johnny and Beth's help. Quinn and Santana were fixing something in the kitchen. My girlfriend smiled when she saw me. I went to her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
"What are you doing?"
"Pancakes."
"For dinner? Interesting."
"Rachel." Santana warned. "Have you looked out the window today?"
That's when I noticed: it had daylight outside.
"What?" I was confused.
"You slept for eleven hours!" Quinn was admired. "When your parents arrived late at night, Shelby provided the bedclothes, but I didn't want to wake you up."
"Oh!" I was even moved. "What time is it?"
"It's almost eight in the morning, Ray."
I was astonished. I went back to the room and looked for my toothbrush and a comb. After a stop at that tiny bathroom, I went back to socialize with my family. Santana and Quinn was setting the table in the kitchen while Johnny was chatting with them, Beth was washing her hands, papi speaking on the telephone, and Shelby was ordering Lassie to stay in the backyard.
"Hey again." I said.
"Feeling better?" Shelby asked.
"Yes, mom. I am feeling much better."
"Yesterday wasn't easy for anyone."
"Yeah…"
"Ok guys!" Shelby said louder to everybody. "Let's eat!"
And we had breakfast as a family as long ago hadn't happened. Honestly I don't remember when was the last time that papi, Shelby, Santana, Beth and I were all together doing something so trivial together, much less with the presence of Quinn and now Johnny. I think it was our first time with all those people gathered. Despite the bad circumstances that let us together, there was a good feeling there, an encouragement that warmed my heart.
"Maybe in two weeks we can finish setting things up in here." My father said. "I know I left almost everything in Shelby's back, but I think I can help more in this final stretch."
"The job is almost done. We still have to finish some facilities, clean and start furnishing." My mother finished.
"This house is really beautiful." Johnny cringed.
"Shelby's choice. She's the one who has good taste here."
"And what will you do in the basement?"
"The idea is to make a family corner with books, albums, pictures… we want to put the piano there in the basement, because I put sound prove in order to practice some songs and plan my classes at OSU."
"You will put daddy's piano there?" Santana asked with a lint voice.
"It's the idea. Hiram's piano is a vertical spinet kind, so it becomes easier to go down with it, and it's beautiful. There is no reason to sell it." Santana nodded in agreement. She would be upset if the piano was put on sell, and so I.
"And about our rooms?" Santana spoke serious. "They had to be pretty much in the garage?"
"They aren't in the garage and they are good bedrooms, girls." Shelby defended. "You aren't living here anymore, so you don't need a big space to spend some days of the year in here."
She was speaking the truth. They were rooms with enough space to put a double bed and a small wardrobe. It was more than enough to me and Santana. The bathroom we share is quite small, but again, we weren't living with our parents anymore and we didn't need a bathtub. I was glad that my parents took us in consideration when they let us have our own room in the new house.
"And the beds?" Santana asked. "I mean... they aren't our old ones."
"I sold them, as well as your old furniture."
She didn't need to say any more. It was part of the deal and, again, I was glad that my parents bought new furniture, smaller furniture, to us. In the rest of the meal, we talked about a lot of things nut abuela's funeral. There was no need to remember it. And I was so glad to be there having my breakfast with the people I love the most in the world. Not that I love Johnny that much… but he's making my sister happy, and I'm glad for that.
The weather was good in Columbus. The blue sky was fabulous, but I had no desire to leave the house, even in a still messy and dusty one. I didn't want to walk around, explore the neighborhood and the rest of the city. I just wanted to stay in touch with the ones that mean a world to me. Quinn and I put the sheet in the bed and we lay down again cuddling in the process.
"You should walk a little, Rach. Breathe fresh air, you know?"
"I know, but I don't want."
"You scared me yesterday, in the church... I've never seen you so upset. I don't remember on seeing you like that even in Hiram's funeral."
"I was on automatic pilot in my daddy's funeral, that's why. I wasn't processing right what was going on that day. But in abuela's… I was actually paying attention. I don't know if it was her message or singing one of her favorite songs… or that huge crowd. All I know is that I started realizing things about my own life: important stuffs. And things I regret most."
"As the story of you punishing me?" I looked at Quinn. She didn't seem angry or rancidity of my revelation.
"That too." I looked her in the eyes. "I love you so much, Quinn. So much! But what happened to us... I didn't realize how much I was hurting myself on trying to hurt you."
"I won't say I'm ok with it, Rach, because you actually were hurting me. I knew why, but didn't understand the ratio, the continuity. I just thought I must have done something wrong besides that mistake, and that I deserved that treatment anyway. So I tried to figure out in a bad way."
"That's why you've been drinking more than your usual?"
"I'm afraid to draw any conclusions that go sound simplistic and accusatory. So I'm seriously inclined to accept Santana's suggestion and talk to a psychologist or somebody qualified to help me dealing with our relationship and to figure things about myself... To be fair: I wasn't being myself and our relationship's problems were just an excuse."
"Really?" My heart raced.
"I'll try a session. Who knows?"
"I'm glad, Quinn. I'm so glad that you are looking for help."
"Maybe you should do the same."
"I'll try someday." I ran my hand on my girlfriend's hair. "My personal life is kind of a mess right now, but I do have a certainty beyond death right now."
"Which one?"
"I want stop trying to kill you inside me. I'm done with this shit. I tried really hard, but I couldn't love you less. I just love you, Lucy Quinn Fabray, more than you think." Quinn's eyes flashed. I swear they flashed. But no words came out of her mouth. "Could you forgive me?" I asked and I was sincere.
Instead of responding with words, she kissed me on the lips: a slow wet kiss, accompanied by a few tears.
"Quinn..."
"Huh?" She opened her eyes after this little bliss.
"Happy Birthday."
She gave a shy and grateful smile. Quinn was completing 23.
"Quinn..."
"Huh?" Her features were lighter.
"I don't have a ring here, but would you marry me?"