Her Smile Heals Me (part 24)
March 8, 2011
Brittany made her way up the staircase of Santana's house. Nobody had answered the front door when she rang the doorbell. The Latina's white Mustang was parked in the driveway, so Brittany knew she was home. She also knew where there was an extra house key hidden under the shrubs in front of the Lopez home.
Brittany knocked softly on the closed bedroom door.
"Go away," Santana said loud enough to be heard, knowing it was most certainly Brittany.
The door opened anyway, and Brittany stuck in her head, finding Santana sitting cross-legged on her faux zebra-skin rug on the floor near her bed. She was still wearing the tight-fitting purple and black striped dress she'd worn to school that day though she had taken off the black leather jacket with fringe that she loved so much.
Brittany remembered the day she and Santana went to the mall and the brunette bought it. She was so excited about it that she wore it out of the store, and Brittany had played with the black fringe in the car as Santana drove them home.
That happy memory was Brittany's initial thought when Santana walked up to her at the lockers earlier in the day. She had no way of knowing their entire existence would alter by the end of the conversation. Once Santana told her what she needed to tell her, all Brittany could do was watch helplessly as Santana stormed off down the hallway, hurt and angry at Brittany's reaction to her revelation.
"You didn't wait for me after school," Brittany said, realizing just how much her reaction upset her best friend.
"You're right…I didn't," Santana confirmed.
Brittany just looked at the brunette as she sat on the floor, flipping pages in her English book, knowing Santana wasn't looking at any of the words on any of the pages.
"Did you need something?" Santana asked harshly.
"Why are you so angry with me?" Brittany asked innocently.
Santana looked up at the blonde who had taken a seat across from her in the desk's chair. "Seriously?"
Brittany continued to look at the Latina.
"I poured my heart out to you…I told you something I've never told anyone."
"I know that was hard for you, Santana…believe me, I know…because I've been trying to get you to face that part of you for a year now," Brittany sounded frustrated.
"Do you even get what I'm actually saying, Britt?"
"I've known you like girls, Santana…I may be dumb…but I'm not blind," Brittany said.
Santana shook her head and looked away.
"I just don't know why you've tried so hard to hide it."
"What I tried to tell you isn't about me liking girls…it was about me liking you," Santana sounded exasperated with having to spell it out so clearly for Brittany.
"I know that," Brittany confirmed, "How were you expecting me to react?"
"I just thought you'd…," Santana trailed off.
"I'd…what?"
Santana shrugged, "That you'd…be more supportive."
"I am supportive…I will always support you as long as you're being honest about who you are," Brittany said warmly, moving from the chair to kneel next to her best friend, running a gentle caress up and down the exposed part of her upper arm.
"Then…be with me," Santana looked down.
"I can't…," Brittany grimaced, "I'm sorry, Santana."
"Because of Artie?" Santana said the name of Brittany's boyfriend with a bitter tone, "That doesn't make any sense, Britt."
"It's not that simple, Santana."
"Well, it should be that simple…I love you…I've always loved you…and I thought you loved me too."
"I do love you…and I've tried to tell you that several times before now…and all you've done is turn your back on it."
"I don't understand how you can have sex with me for this long then choose a guy over being with me," this concept made no sense to the brunette.
"Why? Because you think I should just drop everything since you've now decided you want to be with me?" Brittany said more harshly than she intended.
"Get out," Santana said coldly.
"No…I want to work through this with you," Brittany held her ground, but she was caught off guard when Santana stood up, pulling Brittany up with her.
"There's nothing to work through," the brunette stated as she pushed Brittany toward the bedroom door, "You've made your choice…now please leave."
"So you'd rather not have anything if you can't have me the way you want me?" Brittany felt hot tears coming to her blue eyes.
Santana didn't respond but continued to push the blonde until she was out in the hallway.
"You're being selfish, Santana!" Brittany exclaimed as Santana slammed the bedroom door, locking it, leaving her on the other side.
Santana turned, her anger immediately turning to anguish, as her thin legs lost all their strength, causing her to slide down the length of the bedroom door until she was crumbled on the floor with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. She tried to hold back any audible loss of control, praying Brittany would just leave, but she felt a vibration of wood against her spine as Brittany pounded on the other side.
"Santana…don't do this…you mean too much to me…please."
The Latina put her hands over her face as tears poured down her brown-toned skin.
"I know you're hurting, Santana…but that was never my intention," Brittany told her, her face pressed against the wood of the door, trying to will the brunette to open it and work things out with her.
She stood there for what seemed like forever, knowing Santana was sitting on the other side of the door, because she could hear her choked-back sobs.
Finally feeling her efforts were futile, Brittany turned and walked away.
I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing
Just prayed to a God that I don't believe in
Cause I got time while she got freedom
Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven…
Her best days will be some of my worst
She finally met a man who's gonna put her first
While I'm wide awake, she's no trouble sleeping
Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven…
What am I suppose to do
When the best part of me was always you and
What am I suppose to say
When I'm all choked up and you're okay…
I'm falling to pieces, yeah,
I'm falling to pieces…
They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
Cause she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven…
What am I gonna do
When the best part of me was always you
And what am I suppose to say
When I'm all choked up and you're okay…
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces
One's still in love while the other one's leaving
I'm falling to pieces
Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven…
You got his heart and my heart and none of the pain
You took your suitcase, I took the blame
Now I'm tryin' make sense of what little remains
Cause you left me with no love and no love to my name…
I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing
Just prayed to a God that I don't believe in
Cause I got time while she got freedom
Cause when a heart breaks, no it don't break even.
When Quinn pulled into the Pierce driveway, she saw Santana sitting on the cement steps of Brittany's front porch. The Latina was dressed casually in light-colored jeans with a fitted, black t-shirt and magenta and dark gray running shoes. Her knees were pulled up to her chest because her feet were on the bottom step, allowing her to lean face down on her crossed arms.
Quinn noticed how small and alone Santana looked sitting there with the dusk increasing around her. The blonde had already left Cate's apartment when she got Santana's text that she needed a ride home from Brittany's, "ASAP" the text said. Still, it took her twenty minutes to get to the Pierce house. Quinn was curious as to why Santana was waiting outside without Brittany.
She was just about to turn off the ignition of the Jetta when Santana lifted her head and saw her in the driveway.
Even in the darkening sky, Quinn could tell instantly that Santana had been crying. She watched as she tried to discretely wipe at her face with the edge of her short sleeve before standing and walking quickly toward her car.
Santana opened the passenger door and got in, closing the door behind her. "Thanks for coming so fast," the brunette said, her voice shaky.
"No problem," Quinn assured her, "I had already left…I just needed to run an errand."
The Latina buckled her seatbelt then sat unusually quiet on her side of the car.
"Is everything alright?" Quinn inquired caringly.
Santana nodded then turned to look out her passenger window as Quinn backed her car out of Brittany's driveway and put it in gear to move down the neighborhood street, turning at the stop sign.
"You sure are quiet," Quinn commented, glancing over at the brunette then back at the road as she made another turn out onto the main street.
Santana shrugged.
"So this should cheer you up…take a look in my purse…there's a surprise for you," Quinn directed Santana, using an upbeat tone to overcome whatever was bothering the Latina.
Santana shifted in her seat and picked up Quinn small handbag from the floor board near her feet.
"There's an envelope in there…check it out," Quinn smiled.
Santana unzipped the purse and pulled the crinkled, white envelope from the top. "What's this?"
"Look inside…I think you might recognize it."
The brunette opened it and saw the multiple green bills in it, counting it until she got the total of $500.
"Becca brought it all back this afternoon…she asked me to apologize to you…she felt really bad about it," Quinn stretched the truth, turning the Jetta onto a side street that led to the Berry house.
Santana sat quietly, contemplating the situation.
"Aren't you excited," Quinn asked, her face reflecting some of the disappointment she felt at Santana's lack of enthusiasm over getting back her money.
"Q…where did you really get this?" Santana asked suspiciously.
"Does it matter…you have what you need to get whatever you've been saving for," Quinn told her.
"It's more than I had left," the brunette pointed out.
"Oh…well, now you have that much," the blonde shrugged off the discrepancy.
"I can't take your money, Quinn."
"Look, some of it really is yours…Becca brought back one fifty…so the rest of it is courtesy of dear old dad," Quinn said with a satisfied grin, pulling the car into the driveway and putting it into park.
Santana sat thinking of the way she left things with Brittany for several seconds before she responded, "Thanks, Q…but keep it."
"Trust me…you need it more than he does," the former head Cheerio assured her.
"No…I don't need it any longer," Santana said sadly, putting the envelope back in the top of Quinn's purse.
"Wait…what's going on?" Quinn put her hand over Santana's as she tried to zip it closed.
The brunette pulled her hands to her face as her emotions broke free.
Quinn unbuckled her seatbelt and put her arms tightly around the
Latina. "What happened?"
"Why can't anything just go the right way," Santana choked out between sobs, "For once in my god awful life?"
"Does this have to do with Brittany?"
Santana nodded, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "I think we broke up."
"What? Why?"
"I don't want her to settle," the brunette tried to explain the jumble of thoughts that had been spinning in her head since her conversation with Brittany about marriage and family.
"Do you think that's what she's doing with you?" Quinn tried to understand Santana's point and try to help her reason through her thoughts.
"Promise me you won't ever say anything about this…," Santana sounded somewhat desperate, "Promise me."
"Okay, yeah…I promise, San…you can always tell me anything."
"Brittany being bi-sexual really confuses me," Santana confessed.
"Have you ever talked to her about how it makes you feel?"
"No…it's always just sort of been the elephant in the room."
"She's always seemed comfortable with being bi…no?" Quinn observed honestly.
"That's just it, but I don't get it…why would she choose to be in a homosexual relationship when she could easily choose to be in a normal one?"
"Because…she didn't have any choice in who she fell in love with, Santana," Quinn reasoned, "She fell in love with you."
"She chose a guy over me once…I don't know that I'll ever be able to forget that," Santana said bluntly, months of stored hurt showing.
"Are you talking about Artie?"
Santana nodded. "What if that's really what she prefers?"
"Santana, only Brittany can give you her reason for that decision, but ultimately…she can back to you, right?" Quinn defended, "Love is love."
"I want Brittany to have everything she ever dreamed of in life…," Santana's voice cracked again, "…and if she'd rather be in a real marriage with kids and cats and dogs and that stupid bird."
"Ok, I'm not sure what a bird has to do with any of this…," Quinn couldn't help but laugh, knowing if it was Brittany then there was probably some strange reason that made sense, "…but you need to stop right now and look at me." Quinn lifted Santana's chin with a gentle touch. "Whatever your life is now…or ends up being later on…is normal. You are normal, Santana. I mean, you may be a different kind of normal…but who of us isn't?"
"But different is still different, Quinn," the brunette sounded as though she was willing to just give up on any concept of happily-ever-after.
"And you think you can't give that to her because you're gay? Because gay people can buy birds too, San," Quinn tried to lighten the moment.
Santana sniffed and gave her a partial smile.
"Let me give you some very useful advice that somebody once gave me…you are thinking too much," Quinn winked, recalling the night the two of them sat in her car in this same driveway and Santana told her that. The blonde tilted her head to make sure she was looking directly into Santana's eyes, "Your brain is causing you more pain than anybody else in your life."
Santana nodded and wiped at her wet nose. "It's just that…she's the only perfect thing in my life."
"Then that's where you're going to fail."
The Latina narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. "What do you mean?"
"Brittany is human…with human emotions and human fallacies. You need to allow her space to just be. That's where your trust comes in, and I know you have trust issues…believe me, San, I totally understand trust issues," Quinn said, rubbing the brunette's arm gently, "but sometimes you just have to take a chance…and let your heart plunge into the deep end…with no safety vest."
Santana sat quietly a moment.
"Did you hear any of that?"
The brunette nodded and smiled. "I heard you. It's just a lot to think about right now."
"Call her, San…if you have questions about her feelings then at least give her a chance to answer them."
"I should go…thanks, Quinn," Santana said as she reached out to open the passenger door.
"Wait…," the blonde grabbed her forearm, "Don't you need this?"
"I'll pay you back…I promise," Santana told her, taking the envelope from her.
"Just name the bird after me…deal?" Quinn winked.
Santana grinned, "Deal."
Saturday, July 2, 2011
"Finn!" a high-pitched voice called to the tall teen who was down inside the sunken workspace underneath a car.
Finn Hudson removed his safety glasses and looked up to find Kurt and Blaine standing there. He smiled and said, "Hey."
"Where's Dad?" the smaller teen asked, looking for Burt.
"Did you try the office?" Finn motioned to the back corner.
"Thanks," Kurt told him, waving bye as he and his boyfriend walked to the back of Burt's shop.
They found Santana on the phone when they got to the small office which was lit brightly from inside, having clear window panes on three sides of it.
"Yeah, it's ready now, so you can pick it up any time before we close tonight at six," she told the person on the other end of the phone before hanging up. She looked up and asked, "Are you two lost?"
"Hello to you too, Santana," Blaine smirked.
She smirked back, drawing a line through the name of the person she just called.
"Is my dad around," Kurt asked pleasantly.
"Do you see him?" the brunette retorted abrasively.
"Ok…will he be back soon?"
"He just went around the block to test drive the breaks on a car," she told them, adding, "What are you two doing here?"
"Just passing by…on our way to the mall," Kurt stated.
"Oh, is there a sale on sequined bowties?" Santana asked bitingly with a smirk.
"No…," Blaine answered, slightly offended at the insult.
"Besides we would never buy sequins, Santana…they clash with the glitter in our eye shadow," Kurt retorted with a flippant gesture, knowing better how to handle the Latina's moods.
Santana laughed, "That's good…I like that one."
"So why are you so crabby today?" Kurt asked straight up.
She sat back in the desk chair and crossed her legs at the knees, asking, "Is it that obvious?"
"A porcupine is less prickly than you are today," Kurt informed her.
"Brittany and I are fighting," Santana said sadly, pausing a second before clarifying, "Well, by fighting, I mean that I keep texting her and she keeps ignoring me."
"What did you do?" Kurt asked.
"Why do you assume it's something I did?"
"Well…."
"I fucked up…something pretty huge, and now she won't talk to me."
"What's the topic?" Kurt pressed the Latina.
Santana looked at Kurt then Blaine, hesitant, but then realized that maybe they had an interesting perspective to contribute.
"Talk…," Kurt could tell Santana wanted to say more.
"Would you guys be worried…about your future together…if either of you were bi?"
"Is this about Britt being bi?" Kurt clarified the obvious.
Santana nodded, running her index finger absent-mindedly along the edge of the clipboard in front of her.
Both guys looked at each other, but Kurt pointed to Blaine to respond first since it was a topic the two had discussed previously among themselves.
"Well, I personally think sexuality tends to be a bit more fluid than labels allow for, Santana," Blaine explained.
The Latina stared at him for a second then looked at Kurt, "What the hell does that mean?"
"He has a valid point…some people simply fall in love with the person, not the gender."
"But don't most people have a preference?" Santana asked.
"Sometimes yes, sometimes no," Blaine answered.
"Do you always talk in riddles?" Santana asked harshly.
"Listen…Brittany might always find guys attractive…but she loves you…," Kurt speculated, pointing directly at Santana, "…so why are you so threatened by it?"
"I don't know…I just am," Santana responded honestly.
"I'm not going to lie to you…I think you're being just a little bit unfair, my lesbian friend," Kurt gently teased.
"Maybe…whatever…," she tried to shake off her internal torment, stating, "Look, I get that I'm probably overreacting…that's why I just want to move past it, but she's completely shut me out."
"Can't you just apologize?" Blaine asked with a shrug.
"Oh, honey…that's cute…but seriously…," Kurt patted him on the shoulder then sat on the corner of the desk and crossed his legs, "The ways of love aren't always that simple." Kurt rolled his eyes and added, "Men."
Santana looked down at her hands without commenting further.
"You should buy Britt a huge bouquet of flowers then serenade her outside her bedroom window," Kurt suggested.
"That's dumb," Santana commented.
"It's romantic…who wouldn't love that?"
"Um…everyone?"
"Yeah, Kurt…I tend to agree with Santana on this one…that's a little over the top, don't you think?"
"Said by the man who made a giant fool of himself in a local Gap store," Kurt shot Blaine a look.
"Point taken," Blaine had to agree, "Santana, maybe you should just put it all on the line…perhaps Brittany would reconsider her position if she were just reminded how much you truly love her."
"Maybe," Santana said contemplatively, absent-mindedly playing with one of her cuticles.
"Well, whatever you're going to do…you need to do it quickly before the Fourth of July celebration at the river," Kurt alerted her, with a disappointed pout, "Everybody has already given their RSVP…it would be a shame if either of you missed it…or didn't go together."
Santana looked up and nodded. She had forgotten all about the Fourth of July coming up and the fact that it was their anniversary of sorts. "You're right…I'll figure out something…hopefully."
Santana slowed Finn's old, blue pick-up truck on the main street of Lima's downtown square, finding a parking space and backing into, turning the steering wheel to straighten the tires and pull the truck forward slightly until she was perfectly in the parallel space. As she jumped out, she looked down quickly at the watch on her right hand. 5:01pm. Fuck.
She ran the rest of the distance to the front door of the downtown jeweler and pulled hard on the door, finding it locked. She sighed deeply. I can't win.
She turned just as a short, older man walked past her. She recognized him immediately and stopped him, "Mr. Martin?"
"Yes?" he turned around, fumbling with his old satchel in one hand and a suit coat in the other.
"Do you remember me, sir?" she smiled as sweetly as she could muster "Santana Lopez?"
"Oh yes, Santana," he returned the smile, "I was starting to wonder if you were coming back."
"I took a bit of a detour recently…but I am back to pay the balance…see I have cash," she told him, pulling the crumpled envelope from the front pocket of her jeans.
"Oh, I've closed up for the long weekend, dear…can you come back on Tuesday?" Mr. Martin informed her.
"I know…I tried so hard to get here by five o'clock…please…it's really…really…important."
"I've already cashed out my drawer," he said with a grimace.
"Sir…please?" Santana pleaded with the elderly man, "I'll do anything."
The short, old man sighed heavily then reached into his pants pocket to remove his set of keys. "Okay, come inside."
Santana followed him as he unlocked the front door then turned off his alarm by punching in a set of numbers. "Thank you so much, Mr. Martin," she told him sincerely.
"Yes, yes…I understand young love…," he assured her, remembering the Latina on the day she first came into his shop. He moved over behind his glass case, setting down his bag and jacket. "Let's see where I put that…it's been ready for a couple of weeks now," he told her.
Santana watched the little old man as he put on his glasses to search through a box of claim tickets.
"Lopez, right?"
"Yes, sir," the Latina confirmed, stretching to look over the glass case.
"Okay…let me pull it from the back." He was gone about a minute before he returned with a small, black box. His chunky, wrinkled fingers struggled with pulling the velvet box from the plastic envelope.
Once he had it out, he opened it and turned it toward Santana who felt her stomach do a flip flop.
"Is it what you had in mind?" Mr. Martin asked her, "I tried to stay as close to your sketch as possible."
"It's beautiful," she told him with a huge smile, "You did a wonderful job, Mr. Martin."
"Well, double check the engraving," he instructed, "My eyes aren't what they used to be."
Santana inspected it further, feeling tears welling in the corners of her eyes, "It's perfect."
Santana waved bye to Finn who dropped her off at her house then she closed the front door.
"Santana, is that you?" Trey called out as he stepped from the kitchen to place a bowl of potatoes on the dining room table.
"Yes," she answered, coming out of the entryway to find her family sitting down to dinner.
"Wash up and take a seat…we're having baked cod," Daniel told her, taking his cloth napkin from the table and putting it in his lap.
"Oh, um…cod?" Santana wrinkled her nose.
"Have you ever tried it?" Trey asked her, removing a filet from the baking dish with a spatula and putting it on Rachel's plate.
"I'm not exactly a fan of fish," Santana said hesitantly.
"Well, if you'll try my cod tonight…we'll try one of your favorite dishes another night…is that fair?" Trey smiled widely.
Santana appreciated how much the Berrys always tried to blend her background into their household. It was one of many things that made her love them.
"Sure," she agreed, going into half-bath in the hallway to wash her hands, noticing she had some motor oil stains already on her fingertips. Lovely, she thought…two days in, and I've already ruined my manicure. She wiped her hands and shrugged, grateful for the job and the distraction the job brought with it.
As she walked out of the bathroom, Santana pulled her phone from the side pocket of her pants. She slid open the front screen to check for any texts or missed calls from Brittany, knowing in the back of her mind there weren't going to be any since she had just check five minutes ago. She frowned and her heart sank a little lower when her disappointment was confirmed. She let out a deep sigh.
The Latina sat down at the table and added some green beans to her plate as Daniel past a bowl of roasted new potatoes to her.
"Thank you," she told him, scooping out a few then passing the bowl to Trey who sat at the other end.
"How was it being back at the shop?" Daniel inquired.
"Messy…," Santana grimaced, holding up her stained hands.
"Try mineral oil…," Rachel said in-between bites, "…Finn swears by it."
"Thanks," Santana nodded, taking a big bite of potato.
"Don't think I'm not seeing you eat around your fish, young lady," Trey winked, taking a sip of his wine.
Santana flaked at a piece with the tip of her fork, picking up a small chunk and bringing it to her mouth, wishing it would somehow transform into a juicy bite of hamburger with cheese before it hit her tongue. She closed her mouth and chewed politely then quickly followed it with a large roasted potato, telling Trey, "Mmm…delicious."
"You're a horrible liar," Rachel laughed from across the table.
Everyone at the table broke into laughter.
"How did I end up in a family of vegetarians?" Santana groaned.
"Daniel and I aren't vegetarians, but we do try to eat healthy," Trey corrected the notion.
"On my night to cook…I'm making hamburgers," Santana warned with a smile.
"Hamburgers?" Rachel was instantly grossed out.
"With bacon," Santana teased.
"Ugh…no way," Rachel put her hand up in protest, "We're Jewish, Santana."
"Dad said I can make my favorite…but that's fine…I'll invite my fellow gentile, Quinn, over that night...she loves bacon," Santana teased some more, "And you can have a trough of lettuce up in your room."
"Oh god…I can only imagine the smell that night," Rachel faked barfing in her cloth napkin.
"That's right…sizzling pig fat," Santana winked at the smaller brunette, "Yum."
"Ok, girls…enough…eat your dinner," Trey tried to tone down the growing topic.
"So how's the wedding reception looking for tomorrow, honey?" Daniel asked his partner.
"If I survive this one, it will be a miracle," the dark-skinned man told them, "I seriously need three or four more assistants."
"Rach…Santana…why don't you two help Trey out?" Daniel suggested.
"That's a great idea…I'd pay you for your time…what do you think?" Trey said.
"Sure…what do we have to do?" Rachel asked.
"Just help me set up everything inside the tent where the reception is being held," he explained, "The wedding is at eleven…we just need to have everything ready to go by noon...Santana?"
"I don't know…weddings aren't really my thing," the Latina confessed.
"Come on…I think you'd really like this one," Trey coaxed.
"It'll only be fun if we both do it," Rachel added.
Santana gave in with a shrug and a roll of her brown eyes, "Okay."
Sunday, July 3, 2011
"David Karofsky," Detective Sheldon stated with a smug grin, "Welcome."
"Detectives, my client is here to turn himself in as per the terms of our agreement," Thomas Lowell reminded them.
Detective Mills looked at his watch. "Ten o'clock on the dot…I appreciate promptness."
"Where are your parents, David?" ADA Eric Cole inquired.
"We felt it was best if I escorted David here," Thomas answered.
"Well then…let's get this party started…right this way, David," Detective Mills pulled the oversized teen by the upper arm until he was at a tall, wooden counter.
The uniformed officer behind the counter set a plastic bin on the top of the huge desk.
"Take off your watch…and place it and any other valuables, including your wallet, in the bucket," Detective Sheldon instructed with an authoritative voice.
David looked down at his much shorter attorney who nodded for him to follow instructions.
As Karofsky took out his wallet, he accidentally dropped it to the floor. As he bent over to pick it up, he heard Detective Sheldon tell him, "Be careful there, son…you need to learn to watch behind you."
Detective Mills, who was at least two inches taller than Karofsky, leaned over to whisper in his ear as he straightened back up, "You never know where someone might stick their fist."
David swallowed hard and removed his watch to place in the plastic container next to his wallet.
"Ok, step over here and they'll get your prints," Detective Sheldon directed him.
After David's prints were on file, he was moved to an area to have his mug shot taken.
"You are hereby officially known as Prisoner 08122008," Detective Sheldon announced.
Detective Mills grinned, asking, "How does it feel to be known as a 'perp'?"
"David, don't forget about your meeting that's been scheduled for tomorrow," ADA Cole told him.
"If he survives the night," Detective Mills stated in jest.
"Cut the good cop, bad cop routine, fellows…I think he gets the point," Thomas spoke up on Karofsky's behalf.
"If your client thinks this is rough in county lock up, Thomas…he won't stand a snowball's chance in hell once he's moved to State prison," Eric Cole said bluntly.
"Look, let's just be clear…he hasn't officially admitted to anything until after that meeting tomorrow…got it?" Thomas spat out, "So you just make sure Ms. Lopez shows up…or I'll have all three of your asses before Judge Bradford in a heartbeat."
Sunday morning turned out to be a gorgeous, sunny day. Rachel and Santana met Trey at a popular Lima country club known to have beautiful gardens where many brides chose to have their weddings.
He immediately put them to work, unloading bouquets of flowers and center-pieces made of the hundreds of yellow roses that Trey had to special order for the occasion.
"This is so romantic in here, isn't it?" Rachel asked Santana as they set decoratively-folded cloth napkins at ever place setting on the big round tables.
"Yeah, I guess," Santana wrinkled her nose, straightening a spoon and knife.
"Don't tell me that you don't think about marrying Brittany some day," the petite brunette elbowed the Latina.
Santana paused, feeling a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had wanted so much to ask Brittany on Friday night about the possibility of them getting married at some point in the future, but the whole topic got derailed. Santana had replayed that entire conversation in her head at least thirty times since that night, and if she were being honest with herself, she knew the path it took was her fault…and she felt badly about it now.
It was just that she had never really gotten over Brittany's initial reaction when she first confessed her love for her back in March. Bottom line, Brittany chose to stay with Artie instead of immediately jumping in her arms and confirming that she loved and always wanted to be with Santana. It hurt then…and it still stung now when Santana thought about it.
"Santana?" Rachel prodded the silent Latina.
"Yeah…of course I have," she confirmed with a shrug, "But I don't know if that's realistic."
Rachel frowned as her dad approached them.
"Santana, I need you to do me a favor, sweetheart," Trey walked up to the brunette who was straightening the fabric chairs around the final table under the large white tent.
"Sure," she agreed.
"Go out to the van and find another roll of tape so we can finish securing the extension cords."
Trey looked at his watch, taking a deep breath. 10:50 am. They were doing really well on timing at this point in the morning. The wedding would be starting in ten minutes so he could expect the guests to start filtering into the tent around 11:45 am. Nearly an hour, he thought…plenty of time.
Santana hurried out to the white delivery van which was parked near a large oak tree behind an adjacent building. As she approached the van, she saw an older, auburn-haired woman under the tree, sitting on a cement garden bench. Santana could tell the woman was crying, and even though she felt slightly uncomfortable with the strangeness of the circumstance, she passed near the woman and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Hmm? Yeah," the woman answered, dabbing at her perfectly-adorned face with the corner of a white tissue.
"You don't exactly look like you're okay," Santana pressed.
"I'm not faking it very well, am I?"
"Not really, no." Santana gave her a partial smile.
"You're honest…I appreciate that quality," she complimented the teen, "I'm Laurel, by the way."
"Santana," she answered politely.
Santana saw that the woman was dressed in a lavish, white wedding gown and surmised, "Having cold feet?"
"More like a mid-life crisis," Laurel joked, dabbing again at her eyes.
"Not exactly the best day to have one," Santana pointed out, wrinkling her nose.
"Right," Laurel nodded then broke into more of a cry.
"Hey, listen…I'm sorry…I can be a real jerk sometimes," the Latina apologized, "I'm especially bad with all this wedding and romance shit…I mean, stuff."
"No…it's not you, dear," the older woman took in a deep, calming breath then let out a small chuckle, "And you're right…it is just a bunch of shit…I never wanted this huge wedding."
"Well, it's not too late…I think my dad's keys are in the van…I can bust you out here," Santana joked, trying to lighten the moment.
That made Laurel laugh more, "I appreciate that, Santana…but then…I'd have a lot of explaining to do."
"It is your life…you shouldn't commit unless you're absolutely sure this is what you want."
"No, no…I'm sure…it's definitely what I want…I've waited for nearly fifteen years to have this opportunity…I just didn't envision doing it in front of three hundred strangers," Laurel explained.
"You mean…you don't know any of those people?" Santana was confused.
"No…they're my partner's family and friends…I say partner, but technically, she's already my wife."
"Hold up…your wife?" Santana was taken aback by this revelation.
"Cassie," Laurel confirmed, "We met several years back…we've been together six…then a few months ago we decided to get married. We made it official down at the court house in Newton where we live…Massachusetts, that is…but Cassie always dreamed of a giant wedding and reception with all her family from Ohio and Texas…so here we are."
"With three hundred strangers," Santana smiled.
"Exactly…and my mid-life crisis," Laurel returned the smile, "I really hate large gatherings…with a passion, but I love her…and I wanted her to have whatever she wants, you know?"
"Yeah, I know what that's like," Santana looked down at the graveled pathway, thinking of Brittany, "I guess I never really thought that two women could have a wedding like this…with the tent and the flowers and all the food."
"Oh god…yeah…if I flake out now…I still have to pay for all that food," tears welled up in Laurel's eyes again.
"Hey, don't cry anymore…your mascara is starting to run," Santana said sympathetically.
Santana stepped closer to the bench and handed Laurel a clean tissue. "What's so scary about all this anyway?"
"I don't know exactly…I just…want everything to be perfect…and everything's gotten so out of control," Laurel confessed.
"Well, you're here now…and you look lovely in your gown…and if you love Cassie as much as you say you do, and I think you truly do…," the teenager cajoled the older woman, "…because your face lights up like a Christmas tree when you say her name…then I think you just have to suck it up and make your way to the garden and do what makes her happy."
Laurel wiped her runny nose and nodded.
"Cause let's face it…when you've made her happy…that's when you're your happiest, right?"
"Definitely," Laurel agreed, sniffing and standing up to smooth any wrinkles in her skirt, "You're very wise, Santana…wise beyond your years."
"Please, I suck at this whole love thing…I didn't even know all this was possible for two women," the Latina dismissed.
"Well…now you know."
"Yeah, now I know," she wasn't sure if this newfound knowledge made her feel better or worse about her current circumstances with Brittany. She took a deep breath and added, "So put on a big smile and go remember what made you fall in love Cassie…then all those strangers will just fade into the back ground."
The taller woman took a step toward Santana and hugged her, "Thank you, Santana."
"You're welcome."
"But just in case…keep the van running, ok?" Laurel winked at the teen as she nervously tucked a wayward strand of auburn hair behind her left ear.
"You bet," Santana laughed.
Rachel walked out of her bedroom Sunday evening to go downstairs to the kitchen for something to drink. She stopped at Santana's bedroom when she heard what sounded like sobbing on the inside of the Latina's room.
Rachel knocked softly. "Santana?"
There was no response, but worried, Rachel turned the knob anyway, slightly surprised when the door unlocked.
"Santana?" the petite brunette repeated, hearing sniffing even though the room was dark, "Are you okay?"
"No," the Latina answered honestly, lying on her stomach on the bed, her face buried in her pillow, having no energy for pretense.
Rachel kneeled next to the side of Santana's bed, rubbing her gently on her shoulders. As the smaller brunette's eyes adjusted to the moonlit bedroom, she could see that Santana's face was soaked with tears.
"I didn't know you had gotten back from Brittany's," Rachel said, concerned, "What happened?"
"She wouldn't even let me inside."
Rachel grimaced, knowing Brittany had to be extremely angry or hurt or both for her to avoid contact with Santana for this long.
Santana had already told Rachel some parts of what had happened between her and Brittany.
"Her mom said Britt didn't want to see me…that she told her to tell me to go away," Santana's voice was thick with emotion.
"I really sorry," Rachel caressed the top of her head.
"I don't know what to do, cause I have that meeting with Karofsky tomorrow morning…," she reminded Rachel, knowing she still wasn't sold on the idea, "…I can't go by myself, Rach."
The smaller girl crawled on to the other side of the bed and settled next to Santana, hugging her tightly from behind. "You don't have to…I'll go with you," she encouraged Santana, "I'm sure dad would go too if you want."
"I'm so scared," the Latina confessed, crying harder, "I need Brittany."
Rachel squeezed harder, resting her head on Santana's back, "Just focus on facing your fears, like you said, ok?"
"Every time I face a fear then there's always a new fear that replaces it," Santana sniffed hard, her voice catching in the back of her throat, "What's my problem? Why can't I just let go of things?"
"You feel things deeply…I get that, because I do too," Rachel lamented.
"There's something else…but you can't say anything to anybody," Santana pulled herself up, sliding her long legs over the edge of the bed, "Promise?"
Rachel sat up too, "Yeah, of course."
Santana turned the switch on her bedside lamp then pulled open the drawer on her nightstand. She reached in and removed a small, black box, turning to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing Rachel.
"What's that?" Rachel asked, her eyes wide.
"It started out as a promise…a commitment for when Brittany and I move to New York," Santana raised the top on the hinged velvet box, the lamplight shining off the polished silver of the ring inside it, "Then you told me about New York allowing same-sex marriage, and I don't know…I sort of…."
"You're going to propose to Brittany?" Rachel interrupted, overwhelmed with excitement.
"I was going to…tonight…but she told me to go away," Santana's tears renewed themselves, escaping down her full cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," Rachel leaned forward to hug her, hating the amount of pain she saw in Santana's face.
"Things was going so great with Britt…I messed it up, like I mess up everything."
"So what exactly is she so angry about?"
"I said some really mean things to her Friday night."
Rachel grimaced, her nose wrinkling out of sympathy for both of them, asking, "What did you say?"
Santana shook her head, "I don't even remember the details…I was just so jealous and hurt."
"Why jealous?"
"Because of fucking douche bag Artie," Santana's bitterness was clear.
"Artie?" Rachel sounded surprised.
"It probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me…and every time I say it out loud…it makes less sense even to me."
"What are you talking about?" Rachel was confused.
"She stayed with him…I told her how much I loved her and that I wanted us to be together…and she stayed with him."
"And…?"
"She chose him over me, Rach…it was brutal…and so unlike her," Santana remembered back to that day and how much Brittany's reaction hurt her, "In the back of my mind, I think I've been scared to trust her ever since."
"Actually, San…that sounds just like Brittany," Rachel confirmed.
"What?" Santana looked wounded.
"Brittany didn't choose Artie over you…she chose to stay true to her commitment…if anything, that should only make you trust her more now that she's committed herself to you."
"I just want to die," Santana said dramatically, popping shut the hinge on the ring box, the accuracy in Rachel's statement hitting the Latina like a ton of bricks. She had let all of her personal insecurities mask the integrity that she knew was inside Brittany.
"No, sweetie…don't say that…love will find a way," Rachel squeezed her tighter, "It just has to."
"It's hopeless…I've never known her to be this angry…ever."
"Nothing's hopeless, Santana," Rachel assured her, "She just needs to see this beautiful ring."
"Here…take it…I can't even look at it now," Santana told her, forcing the small box into Rachel's hand.
"Santana, don't be like that," Rachel tried putting it back into the Latina's hand, "You worked so hard to get it for her."
"It's doesn't matter…it was a fucked up idea anyway," Santana cried, tossing the box toward the doorway. When it hit the floor, it rolled the rest of the way out into the hallway, "Just go, Rach…I want to be alone now."
"Santana," Rachel grabbed her by the wrist as she started to turn back over on the bed, "Promise me back…you won't do anything drastic."
"I won't…I promise…," Santana turned face down in the pillow again, mumbling through fresh tears, "…unless you can die from a broken heart."
When you're weary
And haunted,
And your life is
not what you wanted.
When you're trying
So hard to find it…
When the lies
Speak the loudest
When you're broken
By people like me…
I hurt too,
I hurt too…
When an ocean
sits right between us
There is no sign
That we'll ever cross
You should know now
That I feel the loss…
I hurt too,
I hurt too…
Even though you are drowning
In valleys of echoes,
I believe there is peace in
Those hills up ahead.
You will climb 'til you find places
You'll never let go.
And I will also be here praying
Just like I said…
I hurt too,
I hurt too.
Brittany lay on her bed, crying into her pillow, listening to every sad song she had on her iPod through her headphones. She wasn't even sure what time it was now though she knew there was still some light in the room when her mom told her earlier that Santana was downstairs and now the room was totally dark.
She didn't hear the knock on the door the first time or the second time before her mom entered.
"Brittany," Mrs. Pierce said as she shook her daughter's shoulder.
The long blonde startled from the gesture, sitting up quickly and yanking out her earphones with one sharp tug.
"You scared me," she told her mom.
"Sorry," the older woman apologized as she reached under the lampshade to turn on Brittany's bedside lamp.
"Don't turn that on, Mom," she whined slightly.
"Brittany Susan Pierce…you have done nothing but mope around and cry for two days now…you haven't showered, you've hardly left these four walls…and I've barely gotten you to eat anything at all."
"It's bedtime anyway," Brittany said, looking over at her tabletop clock, seeing that it was 9:08 pm, "Just let me turn the light out and go to sleep."
"Since when have you gone to bed at nine o'clock in the last few years?" her mother tried to tease her.
"Since everything in life sucked," Brittany said sadly, lying on her side, facing her mom and hugging her pillow close to her chest.
"You had an opportunity earlier to make life suck a little less, and you sent that opportunity away."
"I'm just so angry at her," Brittany revealed.
"Clearly," her mom confirmed, "But she loves you."
"She doubted me…after everything I've done to try to prove to her how much I love her too."
"Life's not perfect, sweetheart…neither is love. It's in those moments of imperfection that love is most powerful."
Brittany let out a deep sigh, hearing a knock on the bedroom door that was partially open.
"Hi, may I come in?" a soft voice asked.
Brittany sat up to see around her mother.
Rachel Berry pushed the door opened the rest of the way and stepped inside Brittany's room, "I hope it's okay…your dad let me in."
Mrs. Pierce smiled broadly, realizing her husband was clueless of all the teenage drama happening under their roof.
"Hello, Rachel…come on in," the older Pierce welcomed the petite brunette, "I think Brittany could really use some company tonight. She looked down at her daughter with a stern look, adding, "Wasn't that nice of Rachel to come over to cheer you up?"
"Hey, Rach," Brittany said reluctantly, standing up to move over to her floral-print lounge chair, tightening her blonde ponytail as she sat down and pulled her long legs up underneath her.
"I'll leave you two alone to chat," Mrs. Pierce said sweetly, patting Rachel on the shoulder as she passed her, walking out of the room and closing the door.
"Hi," Rachel repeated once the two teens were alone.
"If Santana sent you then you are both wasting your time."
"She didn't send me, Britt…in fact, she doesn't even know I came over here," the brunette told her, "She'll probably strangle me if she finds out."
"Then why are you here?" Brittany stared at the shorter girl with a stone look.
"Because I care about Santana and about you, and I know how much you're both hurting," Rachel told her.
"Yeah, well…Santana caused this."
"And she's trying so hard to fix it…but you have to meet her in the middle, Britt."
Brittany looked down at her bent legs, twirling a string that was in the seam of her cotton pajama pants.
"She has her meeting with Karofsky in the morning at ten thirty. It's a pretty big deal. She has to go to the county jail for it."
Brittany looked back up at Rachel but did not verbally respond.
"I know you realize how frightening that is for her," Rachel moved closer toward Brittany and sat on the edge of her bed, next to the chair where she sat.
Brittany nodded.
"Brittany…she's hurting so much."
"I'm hurting too, Rachel…I don't know the Santana who left here Friday night."
Rachel paused, contemplating anything she could say that might help the situation. The smaller girl stood to leave but stopped first to open Brittany's hand, setting in it a black, velvet box. "Yes you do, Britt…she's the same girl who loves you with all her heart…the same girl who had this made for you."
"What's this?" the blonde asked, confused.
Rachel smiled sweetly and said, "A box…that hopefully has just the right fix inside."
She didn't wait for Brittany to respond before she turned and left the room.
Brittany turned the little box around, her curiosity overtaking her anger. She knew what the box looked like it contained, but she thought it would never be something Santana would do…would she?
The blonde noticed her fingers where trembling as she popped open the hinged-top, seeing exactly what she would have guessed would be in the box. She pulled the silver ring out of the soft holder, noticing a unique design of intertwined hearts etched on it. Her throat tightened, and something internal compelled her to look on the inside of the ring.
There was a message engraved inside…one she instantly recognized, one that made her heart swell and fresh tears well up in her eyes.
The message said simply: There's only us, There's only this ~ S
Author's Note: The songs referenced in this chapter are Breakeven by The Script and I Hurt Too by Katie Herzig.
To ensure clarification, the inscription on the ring is from No Day But Today (from the musical Rent – which was referenced in Chapter 7 of HSHM).
Also, since I have so many International readers, I should clarify, for anyone scratching their head over what's going on down at the river, that the Fourth of July is a national holiday in America (the U.S.'s day of Independence). It is celebrated with fireworks displays all across the nation.
Please be sure to let me know your thoughts on this chapter, especially my interpretation of what may have happened after the "Hurt Locker" scene. I am still trying to wrap my brain around Brittany's reaction.
I love hearing from all of you, and I really do appreciate the reviews you guys leave. I try to answer each one of you. Thanks again, Kim