DISCLAIMER: I do not own, or claim to own, glee, any of its characters or any of the songs mentioned in this story.
Of Mothers And Mums
- Chapter 9 -
Taking The Next Step
She got home slightly later than she would have if she had accepted Rachel's offer to give her a ride home, and a lot earlier than she would have if she had accepted her half sister's other offer to grab something to eat or have some drinks together. And she was fully aware of the fact that her Mum was bound notice, but she didn't really care about that at the moment. The anger that burned within her was still fresh, and thus she even slammed the door to their appartment shut behind her so forcefully that she flinched at the sound herself.
She'd never acted like that before. So ... almost bitchy. But sometime during the last few days, she'd been pushed over an edge she'd never even got close to before, and now she did things she wouldn't have thought of ever doing in the past.
Like yelling at her supposed half sister in the parking lot of her school.
It was almost impossible to imagine anything that would be more out of character for her. She was certain that everyone who knew her would describe her as a quiet person. She wasn't nearly as loud and theatrical as Shelby or Rachel - whom, of course, she inevitably compared herself to on any occasion these days. Usually, the more upset she got on the inside, the calmer she got on the outside. She'd never exploded like that before, and she could already feel something that resembled guilt nagging at her.
No.
She refused regretting the tirade she'd hurled at Rachel about half an hour ago. She refused feeling bad for having yelled at her. She highly doubted the tiny brunette diva would have gotten the message any other way, and she couldn't have beard to just watch her and Shelby living the perfect mother-daughter-relationship right in front of her.
"Beth?" Her Mum's one-worded question was hesitant, and Shelby was obviously contemplating whether or not to enter her adoptive daughter's room now that she had gently pushed the door open. Beth, who had been slouching on her bed, sat up and looked up at her, schooling her face into an indifferent expression.
"Yeah?" The word came out in the coolest voice she'd ever heard escape her mouth, and she had to fight not to flinch at the sound. She didn't want her Mum to be able to read her right now, so she did the one thing she knew exactly she could do just as well as Rachel, thanks to the years of practice she'd had with Shelby: she put on a show face.
"I heard the door." Shelby, who'd settled for standing in the doorway for the time being, arms folded across her chest, stated in a matter of fact voice.
"So?" Beth returned monosyllabically.
"I just wondered what happened." Shelby said, genuine concern and interest in her tone. She let her arms drop and took one slow step into her daughter's room, still hesitant, but crossing the boundary she'd shied away from before.
"I booked a trip to L.A. for us." She said when Beth didn't give her an explanation for her behavior. "One week, during Christmas break."
"But that's in, like, two weeks!" Beth exclaimed in a voice that was a good two octaves higher than her usual speaking voice, instantly knowing what her Mum was up to in L.A.. "I haven't even found the guts to answer her e-mail yet!"
"I know. But I do think you need a little push." Shelby explained calmly, finally walking over to her daughter's bed and sitting down beside her. She chose her next words very carefully, willing for Beth to understand.
"You will never be ready for facing her. That situation is something you'll always feel an urge to run from, no matter how long you wait or how well you prepare. It's what happened to me and Rachel, in a way."
The last sentence sounded sad, and Beth looked up at her Mum questioningly, putting her earlier resentment towards her and Rachel aside. For the moment, at least.
"When I met her, I was terrified. So I ran." Shelby said, a sad smile tucking at the corners of her lips. "I will not allow that to happen to you. You're about as old as she was back then, merely a year younger. I know Quinn wants to be in touch with you. And I know that you yearn for an opportunity to really get to know her, not just exchanging superficial information via e-mail. Even though you yourself might not know it yet."
"I will not let you run. I know you'd regret that later." Shelby finished her little speech.
Beth swallowed the lump in her throat, letting her Mum's words settle in. Then, naturally, she asked what was probably the stupidest question. But she had to know.
"Why would you do that? You didn't seem too, well … fond of my contact with Quinn last time."
"Was it that obvious?" Shelby asked, almost laughing now. She calmed herself down quickly, however. This was a serious conversation, after all, and she wouldn't allow herself to spoil what might be a key moment for Beth's later relationship with her biological parents out of amusement.
Instead she calmly, reasonably, told Beth the truth.
"I realized that, while I may be jealous of Quinn in a way, I have no right to keep you away from her. And I knew that if you thought I didn't approve of the thought that you might have a relationship with her, it would be harder for you to establish one."
Shelby sighed, looking down at her daughter. Whether or not Beth was adopted didn't have any influence on the way she felt about the girl sitting next to her, and it was true: in a way, she felt threatened by Quinn Fabray, even though the actress had never technically spoken to Beth before.
"I just want you to be happy, Beth." She concluded in full honesty.
"Thank you," was all Beth could say before she engulfed her Mum in a tight hug.
Noah Puckerman looked around the room he'd been led to. It was simple, white walls that were decorated with posters illustrating the basics of musical theory and lined with shelves that were stacked with sheet music of every genre. The ceiling was wooden with holes in it here and there, probably to improve the acoustics. There were several instruments: a grand piano, some keyboards, guitars, basses, violins, cellos, drums, flutes, trumpets, saxophones and lots of other instruments he couldn't name.
In a way, the room reminded him of the choir room back at McKinley, and, while it was not what he had dreamed of as a teen, he did believe that he could be happy here.
"This is our main room, where choir, band and orchestra rehearsals are held. Everything that requires a lot of space." The man who'd introduced himself as Jim Harrison, director of the Lima School of Music, explained. Puck estimated that he was about fifty years old, and he did seem nice enough. He was dressed in a light blue shirt and blue jeans, and Puck thanked God that he hadn't given in to his mother and worn the only suit he owned.
"There are smaller rooms, too, where the classes for individual instruments are held in small groups or privately."
Puck nodded, knowing that a small smile had formed on his face. He did like this place. It relaxed him, made him feel calm.
"You say you have stage experience?" Jim asked. Puck studied Jim's expression, but the older man looked nothing but curious. He wasn't fooled, however. He had been invited to be shown around the place, no obligations attached. But he knew that he had just launched into sort of a job interview, and he certainly wasn't going to give an all too detailed description of his years with the Lionskulls.
"Yes, I was on a band for the last few years." He confirmed. "We travelled and made enough money to support ourselves, but we certainly weren't too successful. You could say that these were my wild years." He admitted, remembering every bit of advice on how to act on a job interview he'd ever got - and his mother had been sure to refresh his knowledge in the last few days.
Admit to your flaws.
"And you want to settle down now?" Jim dug deeper. "For what reason?"
The question caught him a little off-guard, as did everything that breached the topic of Beth.
"Family." He replied, and the other man seemed satisfied with the answer.
"So you're planning on staying here in Lima." Jim concluded, and Puck nodded affirmatively.
"That's right."
He could practically watch Jim think, contemplating whether or not to offer him the job.
"We are in need of a capable guitar teacher, and I can picture you handle children well. And I do think that someone like you might draw a young, maybe teenaged to our school." Jim told him, and Puck knew that was probably a reference to the mohawk he still wore after all these years, the washed-out jeans and the leather jacket.
"Plus, our other guitar teacher is more in the classical department, so you and your modern pop-rock style would be a good addition to the team. Mix things up a little." Jim concluded.
Puck stared at the man, waiting for him to finally make a decision.
"You can start here on Monday."
... Thoughts?