A/N: Apologies for the delay. Had to take care of some family medical stuff and Super Storm Sandy related stuff in NJ. Family is A-OK! Hope all is well with you fine readers. Loved your comments on Dr. Lopez and Kurtana – positive and negative – all fantastic and informative, so thank you! I'd like to give you all a heads up that this story will end soon(ish). Count on 5 more chapters, give or take a few. Big thanks to slayhue for being my badass beta!
Maribel hung up the phone and slowly slid her hand down the hard plastic. She stared at the digital time on the phone: 9pm. She just finished listening to Santana describe the apartment her father found them. Maribel could see it clearly in her mind. She remembered her husband showing her the pictures from his colleague. She had hesitated when he told her about it. Part of Maribel wanted Santana to do it all on her own. Find a crappy little apartment that pushed Santana out of her comfort zone. Teach her a little something about sacrifice and making do with little. The other part of her was relieved. The doorman and the guaranteed working appliances and neighborhood all together would let Maribel sleep better at night knowing Santana was safe and comfortable.
Maribel called Susan Pierce, but she didn't pick up. Mrs. Lopez hung up before the voice mail prompt. She poured herself a generous glass of red wine and walked up stairs to Santana's bedroom. Maribel stood at the doorway and surveyed the room. She shook her head and smiled at the mess. The bed was left unmade. Three shirts and a skirt hung over the back of her chair. Makeup littered the bureau top. The closet looked like a tornado blew through.
"At least everything is off the floor," Maribel thought.
She scanned the walls and the bed, the curtains and the desk and bureau and open closet full of clothes and tried to imagine them empty and gone. Would the marks left on the walls and the dents in the carpet taunt her each time she passed this room? Would most of the furniture be here, but so empty and neat, it will look more like a sample showroom bedroom and not one lived in by her daughter? Maribel walked into the room and ran her fingers over Santana's desk. She smiled at the photo booth picture strip of Santana and Brittany kissing. Maribel knew it was from sophomore year but it only appeared on Santana's desk after Valentine's Day this year. It pained Maribel to look at that picture, knowing her daughter was ashamed or frightened or confused, or most likely all three when it was taken. It wasn't evident in the picture though. All Maribel saw was a happy, smiling Santana. It caught Maribel by surprise how happiness was strong enough in fits and starts, to overcome fear and judgment. Maribel worried about not being able to protect Santana when she was in New York, but she was unable to shield her from pain when she lived in the same house. And from what Maribel knew about her daughter now, it looked like Santana could handle herself.
But was it enough? Did she teach her everything she needed to know? Was Santana too sheltered? Too entitled? Maribel started to question everything she had done as a parent.
Maribel took another gulp of her wine and set it on Santana's nightstand. Maribel sat on the bed and sighed.
"Five weeks from now, sitting here will be so painful," Maribel thought.
A pride mixed with the pain, Maribel doubted would ease the sting. The last thing she wanted was Santana rushing out of here to the streets of New York City. All Maribel wanted was her daughter, here, in this bed, in this room, in this house. She bunched up the black sheets in her fist and smoothed the material with her thumb. Maribel smiled remembering the day Santana and she argued over the sheets. Santana insisted on black. Maribel resisted. She already allowed Santana to paint her room dark. The black sheets seemed too much. It all seems so little now. So inconsequential. Maribel was running out of time. It seemed like yesterday, she had "all summer", and now, the end of their lives together was nearer. Maribel wasn't ready. She didn't want to be ready.
Maribel finished her wine in one big swallow, set the glass back down and laid on Santana's bed. She heard the click of the air conditioning turn off and the end of its constant background hum. Maribel inhaled the scent of Santana's shampoo on her pillow, and listened to the silence permeate the room. All she heard was her breathing. This is what it was going to be like in August. This house empty, this bedroom empty, this smell, gone.
Saturday afternoon, Maribel heard the car door slam outside and smiled. She stood up, smoothed her blouse and stepped out the front door to greet her husband, Santana and Brittany.
Brittany bounced up to the front steps and gave Maribel a hug.
"Good to be home," Brittany sighed over Maribel's shoulder. Maribel gave her an extra squeeze.
"Good to have you home, sweetie," she replied.
Santana walked up with her rolling suitcase behind her. She set it aside and walked into Maribel's open arms.
"If I kill Kurt, will you help me hide the body?" Santana sighed into her mother's ear.
Maribel chuckled, "No, but I will pay for a very good lawyer."
Santana laughed and hugged her mother harder.
"Good to have you home," Maribel whispered.
"Thanks Mama," Santana smiled and kissed Maribel on the cheek.
Dr. Lopez leaned against the car and smiled over his sunglasses at his wife.
"We were gone two days," Dr. Lopez smirked.
"Almost three," Maribel replied. "Plenty of time to think."
"Uh oh," Dr. Lopez said as he walked up to his wife and embraced her. "You getting 'Empty Nest Syndrome' before you have an empty nest?"
Maribel gave a half-hearted smile and a shrug. Dr. Lopez slid his arm around her shoulder and walked her into their home. "We've got time. And when we run out of that, we've got each other," he said.
Dr. Lopez went up to their bedroom as Maribel spied Santana leaning into the open refrigerator.
"I'm starving," Santana complained. "Nothing but pretzels on the plane. Do we have anything to eat?"
"Second shelf, right hand side. I made chicken salad, mixed green salad with goat cheese and walnuts and cranberries. Oh and there's some fresh mango cut up on the top shelf," Maribel replied.
Santana licked her lips as she pulled the prepared lunch out of the refrigerator and placed the containers on the kitchen counter.
"So, why do you want to kill Kurt? You're not even living with him yet. Aren't you supposed to get into fights with your roommates after you live with them?" Maribel smiled as she set out the plates.
"He hasn't stopped talking about how he wants to decorate the apartment. He's talked of nothing else since we left the damn building yesterday. All through dinner last night too. Then, when I thought Britt and I could relax back in our room last night, he sent me text after text and links for decorating ideas. The man has a serious problem," Santana sighed as she took a bite of her salad.
"Are his ideas really that bad?" Maribel asked.
Santana shrugged. "No, not really. It's his obsession with it that's getting on my nerves. Yeah, I want a nice looking apartment, but I wasn't planning on going through a swatch book of fabrics."
"That's tomorrow, right?" Brittany asked.
"Ugh," Santana leaned her head on her hand and took another bite of lunch. "We're gonna need to set some ground rules fast," Santana decided.
Maribel looked over to Brittany. Brittany smiled and shrugged. "As long as it's colorful and not just black and white, I don't really care. I just want it to be comfy."
"What's wrong with black?" Santana asked with her mouth full.
"Nothing. I just don't want the whole place to look…cold," Brittany explained.
"You three will figure it out, I'm sure," Maribel concluded.
Brittany and Santana finished their chores at Brittany's house. Again, Maribel greeted them at the back door with towels, to dry off from their weekly water fight. Dr. Lopez was just off the patio, holding two bottles, trying to decide on which herbicide would rid him of the weeds that always sprouted between the bricks. He looked up at the girls toweling off. Santana chose pants that fit her that day, Dr. Lopez chose Round-Up.
Brittany finished unpacking her suitcase first and walked across the hall to see how Santana was doing. Santana's suitcase was sitting next to her desk, unopened. Santana sat on her unmade bed, texting.
"Making plans without me?" Brittany smiled as she sat down on the bed next to her.
"No, well maybe. No. Quinn wants to get together tonight. Do you want to?"
"Sure! Might need a nap though. I'm beat," Brittany yawned.
Santana texted Quinn again and put down her phone.
"Naps it is," Santana agreed.
Brittany slid behind Santana and pulled the covers over them. She spooned up to Santana and laced their fingers at Santana's waist. Santana rubbed her thumb over Brittany's and pulled her closer.
"You okay?" Brittany whispered sleepily in Santana's ear.
"Don't you like these sheets?" Santana asked.
"Sure I like these sheets. They're comfy. And they've got you in them," Brittany said, kissing the back of Santana's neck.
"But you don't like black," Santana replied.
"I just meant I don't want everything black. Or black and white and gray and that super modern look. Besides, we can't use these sheets anyway. Your bed is too big for that bedroom. We'll have to take mine," Brittany reasoned.
"We have a lot of memories in this bed," Santana said, almost to herself.
"We do," Brittany agreed. "We have a lot of those in my bed too."
Santana smiled at the thought. "Yeah, yeah we do."
Santana sighed as Brittany shifted her weight and got herself more comfortable.
"Britt?"
"Mmm?"
"Is it okay if we get new sheets and comforter for your bed in New York?" Santana asked.
"Sure," Brittany replied. "Is it the flowers? You don't like the flowers."
"They're not my first choice, but no that's not it. I just like the idea of us buying bedding together. For our bed and our bedroom," Santana confessed.
Brittany pulled Santana over to face her.
"I love that idea too," Brittany smiled and brushed Santana's hair back away from her face. "New life, new city, new sheets."
Santana giggled. "Ours."
"All new ours," Brittany repeated and kissed Santana on the nose.
Quinn returned from her kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn and set it in Brittany's lap on the couch.
"How late is your mom going to be out?" Santana asked.
"Nine or ten," Quinn shrugged. "Maybe later. It's dinner and a meeting and some kind of church social thing."
"She dating someone?" Brittany asked.
"Oh no, not that kind of social thing, " Quinn smiled. "It's the church board and some senior parishioners. It's just an excuse to get together under the guise of 'church business'".
"So what movie are we watching?" Santana asked, looking through the DVDs.
"Before we do that, I wanted to ask you ladies something," Quinn said, readjusting her dress over her legs in the overstuffed chair.
"Yes you should try sex with women, and no, not either of us," Santana quipped.
Quinn's frown was off set by a smirk when she threw the pillow at Santana.
"Not what I was going to ask," Quinn corrected. "I was thinking about that tattoo idea you brought up last month."
"The phoenix?" Santana asked.
"The tree?" Brittany asked with a smile.
"Well, something like those, yes. What do you think?"
"I think it's a great idea," Brittany replied.
Santana nodded with a smile.
"Good, because I've already got a place picked out down in Cincinnati to do it. I have an appointment for a consult and design ideas next Saturday, and I'd like you both to come if you don't mind."
Brittany let out a little squeak of joy and got up and climbed on Quinn to hug her.
Quinn laughed and shook her head in a little disbelief that she was going through with it.
"One more thing," Quinn added, holding onto Brittany in her lap. "I was thinking, since you said you wanted to come, what you two thought of getting tattoos?"
Santana smirked and Brittany "oohed".
"Unholy Trinity tattoo?" Santana guessed.
Quinn nodded shyly. Brittany bit her lip and squeezed Quinn more.
"I'm ready to get out of Lima and leave high school and this town and those lives behind me. But I guess I'm getting nostalgic. I want to mark this milestone and our friendship," Quinn explained.
"I'm in," Santana said.
"Your dad will kill you," Brittany replied.
Santana shrugged. "You in?"
Brittany nodded with a grin.
"Your mom will kill you, so we're even," Santana smirked.
"Let's talk designs," Quinn said, clapping her hands together.
"I might already have some ideas," Santana confessed.
"Are you two grocery shopping after you meet up with Kurt?" Maribel asked Brittany and Santana as they opened the front door Sunday morning.
"Not if I shoot myself first," Santana replied.
"Be nice to Kurt," Mrs. Lopez admonished as she walked toward the front door. "He's a nice young man, he's in the same situation as you, and he means well."
Santana rolled her eyes and smiled, "I know Mama, he just gets on my nerves."
"Why? Is he too nice?" Maribel smirked.
"He's too…Kurt," Santana replied.
"Go on," Maribel shooed them out the door. "Discuss. Plan. And for god's sake compromise."
Santana shook her head as she got in the driver's seat of her car.
"You're just messing with your mom, right," Brittany asked Santana as they drove away from the house. "Because I know you like Kurt more than you let on."
Santana shrugged.
"Come on. It's me. No one else," Brittany implored.
Santana sighed. "You're right. No. I mean, yes, Kurt's alright. Under all those layers of ridiculous fashions, and all his…flamboyance and drama queen ways, I do respect him. Aside from that one time he made out with you, he's always been himself. He never apologized for who he is. I respect that. I just don't have to respect his fashion sense or what I fear to be an apartment decorating coup that will not only bombard my sense of good taste, but also my bank account."
"We'll work something out," Brittany assured her with a pat on her leg.
Brittany and Santana walked into the Lima Bean and found Kurt with a tall stack of home decorating magazines. Brittany went up to the counter to order their drinks. Santana approached Kurt's table and watched him scrutinize a pad of graph paper.
"Okay Kurt, let's do this," Santana said as she sat down.
"Where's Britt?" Kurt asked. He had a nervous look in his eyes that made Santana secretly smile.
"She's getting our drinks," Santana explained.
"Oh, I should go put in my order. I was waiting for you ladies," he said as he started to get up.
Santana put her hand on his. "Britt's got yours too, don't worry."
"How does she…?"
"You'd be surprised," Santana smiled.
"I am," Kurt smiled back.
"So," Santana began, pulling a magazine off Kurt's sizable stack. "Decorating ideas? I assume you have 10 variations on one theme?"
"Let's wait for Britt," Kurt smiled.
Brittany arrived at the table with their coffees, and her eyes widened at the stack of magazines.
"That's a lot of decorating," Brittany said, staring at the magazines.
"Just if I totally missed the mark on my thoughts for the apartment," Kurt assured Brittany.
"Whoa Hummel. Hold up. We get to decide together how we decorate the apartment," Santana protested.
"Of course! Absolutely! Just wanted to start with some suggestions. See how far apart or close we are, okay?" Kurt said, trying to ease Santana's worries.
"Fine," Santana said, folding her arms across her chest. "What do you got Kurt?"
Brittany slid her hand over Santana's arm and pulled her hand onto her lap.
Kurt, Santana and Brittany discussed what furniture they had, what furniture would fit, and colors for curtains, rugs and the couch. To Santana's surprise, they weren't too far off when it came to the common living areas. Their two disagreements were on the couch and the rugs. Santana did insist any new furniture they bought would have to be dual purpose, for the sake of space. A bench with storage, a coffee table with shelves underneath, a desktop that folded up against the wall could double as a small dining table. All agreed on dual purpose furniture and a lot more shelves.
"Looks like we're spending some time at IKEA," Kurt concluded.
"I love their cinnamon rolls," Brittany replied.
"Let's sleep on it. We've got about four weeks until we move. Let's make a plan for next Sunday to take a trip in and check out the stuff we need," suggested Santana.
"Sounds good. I'll get the measurements online and put them on my floor plan, and we'll see what works," Kurt said with satisfaction.
He excused himself to the bathroom.
"That was really kind of painless," Santana said to Brittany with confusion.
"Weird," Brittany nodded with a small smile.
"Yeah, weird," Santana replied with all seriousness.
"Oh my god I'm so glad I ran into you two!"
Santana's face scrunched in pain. Brittany squeezed her hand.
"Rachel," Santana greeted. "What do we owe the pleasure?"
"I'm leaving for New York tomorrow. Kurt told me you three found a place! That's so exciting! You're only going to be 10 blocks from me! We can have dinner parties, and you can help me run lines and…"
"I'm going to be working and taking classes. So is Santana. We'll be very busy Rachel, just like you," Brittany explained.
"Well, yes of course," Rachel conceded. "But I'm sure we'll find some time in our busy, yet glamorous New York lives to perhaps, hang out. Once in a while?"
Santana sighed. "Yes. We could, probably, manage that," Santana acquiesced. "It'll be nice to see a familiar face, even if it's yours Berry."
"Likewise," Rachel said curtly, and then beamed with a smile.
"Oh this is going to be awesome!" Rachel cheered, and bent down to hug Santana and Brittany in their seats.
It was an awkward hug, but not entirely unwelcome. Santana knew she'd put up with Rachel every once in a while for a taste of home and maybe some inside information on what she'll be learning at NYADA. Brittany ended the hug quickly and sat back.
"Have a good trip Rachel," Brittany said, in an effort to move Rachel along.
"Thank you Brittany. I will. Bye you two!" Rachel waved as she walked towards the door. "New York here we come!"
"She's going to invite us to singing parties," Brittany complained.
"Don't remind me," Santana sighed.