"Hey, what are you doing, honey?" My mom's melodic accent drifts over to me as she leans across the back of the couch, frowning as she peers over my shoulder.
"I'm driving NASCAR, Mami, what does it look like?" I reply sweetly, and she swats at the back of my head. I wince, rubbing the spot of contact, and she tuts loudly.
"Don't be so sarcastic. What are you reading?" She gestures at the book and I shrug carelessly.
"Just some book this chick gave me. Its A Christmas Carol; thought I'd give it a try 'cause I've never read it." I smile innocently up at her, but her eyes narrow.
"Some chick? Just gave you it?" She raises an eyebrow and I nod with a polite smile, "You can quit the butter-wouldn't-melt act, I'm not buying it, chica." She adds, and I roll my eyes.
"Fine. I was just talking to some girl today in Starbucks and we traded books when it was time to leave." I shrug again but I can tell she's not buying it. She perches on the arm of the sofa opposite and folds her arms patiently, attempting to stare me out. I slide my bookmark between my pages and close the book calmly, folding my arms and staring back. My father sighs beside me, rolling his eyes and flicking the television off before getting to his feet, taking the newspaper with him.
"Well, I'll be in the kitchen; call me if I'm needed when you two have stopped playing chicken." Neither my mother or I look at him, constantly holding each other's gaze, and he ruffles my hair as he passes. I blow air out of the corner of my mouth and my fringe waves pathetically, dropping back down into my eyes and irritating my eyelashes. I finally break, pushing my hair back and rubbing at my eyes, and my mother grins triumphantly.
"So who was she?" She asks and I thump the book down on the arm of the sofa with an impatient sigh.
"I don't know." I reply honestly, and she shakes her head disbelievingly, "No really, I don't. I sat down with my book, she came and asked to sit down opposite me. I said yes, she sat down and...we got to talking." I shrug casually with a small smile, but my mother still scowls back at me.
"You let her sit down? That doesn't sound like you." she uncrosses her arms and moves to sit on the couch properly, crossing her legs.
"I know right? But you know, season of goodwill."
"Wow, I didn't know you could even pronounce that word." She teases, and I pretend to laugh sarcastically and fold my arms, feeling very much like an attitude-ridden teenager.
"You're hilarious. But yeah, I let her sit down, we got to talking, and decided to swap books at the end, that's all." I shrug again, but she still looks puzzled.
"So who was she then? This is a small town, I might know her." She replies curiously, and I frown, slightly wide-eyed. I suppose this is true. My mother might know her. This girl, Quinn (if that is her) works in the chocolatiers, and my Mami sure loves chocolate. It's perfectly reasonable.
But would I want to know? If my Mami does know her? Maybe she'll tell me things I don't want to hear, like maybe this girl is actually a gigantic bee-hatch. She didn't seem like one, but I feel like I probably seemed like a perfectly logical, rational, peaceful person. So it's amazing how different people can seem on first meeting.
"Well, maybe you do, but I don't. So how could I tell you?" I bluff with a care-free shrug, but my mother frowns.
"What, not even a name?" Ugh. I had been trying to avoid this part.
"Possibly. In the front of this book it says Quinn Fabray, but that might not even be her. It could be second-ha-"I begin to ramble but my mom cuts me off swiftly.
"No! You know Quinn Fabray! She lives just down the avenue!" Wait, what? She gestures wildly and I frown.
"Um...no I don't?" Maybe she's finally going senile. I mean, she's not exactly old, but still. You hear about these things but never imagine it'll happen to you. Maybe they'll make a TV movie about her. And me. The whole experience will bring us so much closer, and they'll interview me and focus on our amazing mother-daughter bond, and how supportive I've been through her traumatic ordeal.
"Of course you do. Little blonde girl, green eyes." She insists and I grimace in confusion, my lip curling while my nose scrunches.
"Yeah, Mom I know what this girl looks like! I met her! I just have no idea who she is." I lift my legs up onto the couch and curl them under me and she frowns disapprovingly. I ignore her and she sighs.
"Yes you do, of course you know her. You remember her parents; Russell and Judy? She has an older sister called Franny? You remember her!" What?!
"No. I don't." I shake my head and she sighs again.
"Yes! Yes you do, she grew up just down the avenue! I play bridge with her mother every Thursday." WHAT?!
"So you've said!"
"You know her!" She says persuasively and I slap my palm on the couch cushion next to me, rolling my eyes in exasperation.
"No! I don't! This could go on for hours, Mami! I have no idea." I speak slowly and deliberately, and she scowls as if I'm being purposefully difficult.
"Well you can get an idea!" She stabs her finger at me and I recoil slightly, affronted.
"What do you mean?" She stands and begins to cross the room, towards me and the door, and I follow her through into the kitchen, growing increasingly impatient as she doesn't answer. "What do you mean?"
My Papi, sat at the kitchen table with a drink and his newspaper, sighs as we enter. She turns to face me with a scowl, "Santana, I've told you a million times! We're going there tomorrow."
"What do you mean?" I demand, eyes wide with mild panic. Christmas somewhere other than home? Bitch, you be trippin'.
"My goodness!" My father drops his paper onto the table with a quiet sigh, as I hoist myself up to sit on the counter-top, "I've told you, tomorrow night we're going to the Fabrays' house for a Christmas party!" WHAT?!
"I'm sorry?" My mouths drops open in a small 'oh' and she rolls her eyes again, exasperated, while my dad stands, taking his paper once again and removing himself from the room.
"Santana." she says warningly, and I smile innocently. She rolls her eyes, defeated, answering me in a sarcastic voice, "Hey Santana, we're going to the Fabrays' tomorrow night. She's a lady I play bridge with and all of the bridge ladies are going over for a party, you know, finger food, a little music. There'll be other people there too, of course, and we're all taking our families. So it should be a nice evening. You'll enjoy yourself." That's debatable.
I nod slowly as she speaks, staring down at the kitchen floor, and raise my eyebrows when her monotone voice ends.
"What time are we going?" I ask, trying not to sound strangled and edgy.
"Around 7:30. Wear something nice." She says sternly, and I scowl, offended, before jumping off the counter.
"Okay, will do." I sprint up the stairs to my old room, dodging a child on the way, and throw myself onto the bed as the door bangs shut behind me. I rush back to the door, opening it and shouting "Sorry!" into the depths of the house before closing it again quietly. Jumping back onto the bed, limbs flailing, I take a deep breath and roll onto my back before blowing it out in a long, slow stream of air.
So we're going to Quinn's house, apparently. To hang out with her and her parents and all of my mom's friends for a whole evening. Hm. Okay.
Although, maybe this girl wasn't even her! She could have totally bought that book from a second-hand store or something, and maybe it used to belong to this Quinn chick. It's totally possible!
Maybe not probable. But it's possible. I suppose I won't know until we arrive tomorrow. Until then I'll just have to put it out of my mind, think about other things and not let it both me. Easy.
Haha, imagine if I was like that! Yeah, I'll just obsess over it instead.
-oOo-
Oh God. I'm ready to die, my face is burning already and we're not even at the door! I feel a little nauseous, if I'm being honest. I'm traipsing up their longer-than-average driveway after my parents, the rest of our family troupe snaking behind in a long line. Arriving at the door, my mom ushers us to crowd round, nudging us in the ribs to force us to smile, while my papi wraps his knuckles on the door.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
Here it comes.
Through the frosted glass, I watch a dappled figure approach the door and swallow the large lump in my throat as my chest constricts tightly. Biting my lip, the figure reaches for the handle and the door swings open, displaying a brightly lit hallway. I glare down at the ground until I dare to rake my eyes up the woman's body.
Well, it's definitely not coffee-shop girl. A woman about my mother's age answer the door, and immediately grins, holding her arms out wide as she greets us, "Gloria! And family, I presume!"
"No, just some strays I picked up on the way!" My mother jokes, and I smile politely as the two women cackle, "Thank you so much for inviting us, Judy!"
"No, of course! It's lovely to see you! Come on in." She stands back, holding the door open, and my mother leads the way into the house. The noise and bustling of people spills into the hall from all of the surrounding rooms as we remove our layers, unwinding scarves and struggling to pry gloves off of our freezing fingers.
We all break off, my sister and her husband indulging their whining children and heading straight for the buffet table, whilst my mami and papi follow Judy Fabray into the dining room to collect glasses of mulled wine. My grandparents stayed back at the house for a quiet night, and I'm left alone in the hallway, staring up at the gigantic tree.
The hallway is more of an entrance hall, as this house is huge, and looks like a scene from a Christmas film. The giant tree is covered in baubles and lights, shining and glittering in the dim lamplight. A staircase curves around the right side of the room, whilst all of the doors to various rooms stand on my left. I sigh quietly, my jaw dropped slightly in wonder. If this is where Starbucks-girl lives, I have no idea how she could ever not have a perfect Christmas, I shit you not, this is like a movie scene! It's hardly a log cabin or a little English cottage, but it's almost identical to Miracle on 34th Street.
"Santana?" My mom pokes her head round a door frame and frowns at me. I raise my eyebrows expectantly with a small smile, "You want some mulled wine, sweetie?"
"Um...yeah, sure." I follow her into the dining room and find the table carrying the huge bowl of liquid, and smile to myself. Hmm, okay maybe I feel a little better. I start to whistle Fairytale of New York, stirring the fruit around with the large ladle as I hear a party guest enter the room. A soft melody joins mine and I smile as I realise said anonymous is humming the tune along with me.
"Hey, that's my song." A familiar voice makes me jump, and I quickly spin on my heel and come face to face with the blonde.
"Yeah well..." Intelligent, Santana, "I was singing it first." Mature.
"I don't think you were, I've had that song stuck in my head all day." She raises an eyebrow, challenging me and I shake my head dismissively.
"No, I've had it stuck in my head for a week." I counter, and she frowns suspiciously.
"You weren't singing it yesterday?" She replies and I curse inwardly.
"Well I would have been, but some blonde interrupted my alone time." I shrugged with an apologetic look and she giggles. Phew. Successfully navigated an awkward social situation.
"Well I'm sure she's very sorry. Regretting it horribly, I'd bet." She smirks and I narrow my eyes to glare at her.
"So your name is Quinn, I think?" I raise my eyebrows in question and she nods with a shy smile.
"Yes, and yours is?" I open my mouth to reply, but I'm interrupted by an older blonde entering through the doorway.
"Hor D'oeuvres? Hor D'oeuvres, anyone?"
I turn to glance at the door and see a woman enter, almost identical to Quinn, just a few years older. Same eyes, same hair colour and possibly a once-similar build, although age and children has altered this woman's somewhat. However, she's still an attractive woman, I guess.
Using my Sherlock-like powers of deduction, I assume this is her sister.
"Ooh, I will." Quinn reaches out a hand, but the woman slaps it away with a stern glare.
"They're not for you, pig. They're for the guests." She gestures to me and I smile awkwardly, shaking my head a little as the woman thrusts the tray forwards into my face.
"Huh. Fine." Quinn rolls her eyes before smiling at me, "Well I'm sure I'll see you around. It's becoming habit these days."
She grins cheekily and I smile back, blushing under the force of her 100 megawatt smile, "Yeah, hopefully." Oh God. That was needy. Jesus.
Her sister raises an eyebrow at the interaction as Quinn turns and leaves the room. I resist the urge to watch her leave, turning back to her sister with a polite smile.
"Would you like some Hor D'oeuvres? Or there's other food in the living room if you'd prefer?" She's smiling politely, and I'm aware that I'm just stood, mouth hanging open slightly awkwardly, staring into her eyes. Probably looking a bit creepy, actually. Her eyes are exactly like Starbucks-Girl's. Sorry, Quinn's. Oh God, answer her.
"Um, no. I'm fine thanks. Uh, do you have a bathroom I could use?" She stares at me and I shift awkwardly. To be fair, I don't think I'm coming off as well as I could be, "Just you know...to freshen up?"
"Yeah, uh, there's one upstairs you can use." She smiles, pointing back into the hall, "Straight up the stairs, fourth door on the left."
"Cool, thanks." She stares at me, unblinking, as I shuffle past her into the hall. I glance nervously over my shoulder, and find the woman's eyes still trained on me as I wander across to the stairs, ascending them slowly.
I reach the top and am greeted with a long hallway, carpeted with a thick blue pile and begin to tread carefully along the hall, counting the doors on my right. I reach the fourth one and take a step back, checking I've counted enough doors, before reaching out and turning the brass doorknob, and swinging the door open.
But instead of tiles on the floor, my gaze falls on another carpet, brown this time, and I frown as I poke my head round the door to peek into the room.
It's Quinn. The blonde starts, looking up from her book with her eyes wide in alarm. She's sat cross-legged in the middle of a large bed, probably a king-size, with her nose stuck in a book, and I recognize the book as The History of Love. That is, that's how she was sat until I burst into the room and peek round the door like a creepy Latina Peeping Tom. She jumps, startled, and the book snaps shut on her lap, and I immediately back out of the room, swiftly shutting the door behind me.
I flail around in the hall for a second until I hear the girl's feet padding towards the door. I grab the handle of the door opposite, pushing at it and rattling the door knob. Locked. Shit. I turn on my heel as the blonde reaches the other side of the door, leaning casually against the door as she pulls her own door open with a bemused frown. I say casually; I've never felt less casual in my life.
"Hi?" She raises an eyebrow at me and I clear my throat, giving her a polite smile.
"Hi. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to like, break and enter." Her eyes narrow suspiciously and I point to the stairs, "I mean, I just needed to freshen up so your, um, sister?" She nods slowly and I nod, "Well she sent me upstairs but, I got the wrong door. Fourth on the right?"
She stares at me for a few seconds longer and I shift my weight from foot to foot, staring at the thick carpet beneath my feet.
"Left."
"Okay, well good to know. So I'll just go. I'm sorry. I'm not weird or anything I promise, I didn't even know you lived here until today! I'm sorry, I'm going." I turn to leave and am almost at the top of the stairs, until I hear the girl jogging after me. She places her hand on my upper arm, and I turn to face her again.
"I'm sorry, that was just a little odd. Yes I'm Quinn, and it's fine I understand. Truthfully, it was nice to see you after yesterday. I just wasn't expecting to see your...at that exact moment."
"Yeah, I'm sorry." I blush again and she waves a hand dismissively.
"It's cool, I understand. So, I still didn't catch your name?"
"Sorry, I'm Santana."
"Stop apologizing."
"Sorry." I repeat with a cheeky grin and she rolls her eyes.
"Well it's nice to meet you. Again." She adds, blushing, and I giggle, nodding my agreement.
"Definitely. Yeah it was nice to meet you the other day, too. So how come you're not downstairs with all the guests?" I raise my eyebrow and she shrugs, leaning on the bannister and gazing down at the entrance hall, now half-filled with new guests. I rest my elbows down next to her and peer over; the tree is almost tall enough for me to reach the star, and I tilt my head to make shapes out of the patterned tiles below.
"I dunno. I'm kind of anti-social, I suppose. Big parties aren't really my thing; I would rather stay alone and read, and I was going to watch a movie later, maybe." she nods slowly, standing and turning to lean her back against the bannister.
"Fair enough. I have to say, if at 22, I had any free-will I wouldn't be here. But sadly, being a grown-up doesn't actually mean I don't have to do everything my mami tells me...so I'm here against my will. No offence."
"None taken." She smiles, folding her arms, and I sigh as I stand beside her.
"Yeah, personally a book and a movie sounds way better than three rooms full of middle-aged strangers drinking mulled wine and talking about bridge. If I ever play bridge please kill me." I shake my head disbelievingly and she chuckles.
"Ah, so that's why you're here?" She raises her eyebrows and I nod with a smile.
"Yup, my mom plays bridge with your mom, I believe."
"Sounds about right. Well, if you want to...you can come hang out with me?" She stares at the carpet as she extends this invite, biting her lip, and my mouth drops open slightly.
"Um...yeah. I mean, if that's okay with you?" I twist my hands nervously, frowning down at the floor, but she giggles again.
"I did invite you?" She turns her head to look at me, eyebrows raised, and I nod quickly.
"Okay then. Yeah, I mean, I'd love to." I finally look up, and am filled with relief when I see she's grinning at me, and can't resist smiling back.
"Come on then." She jerks her head in the direction of the hallway, and I nod, following behind her as she heads back to the door.