Still off the Key of Reason
Chapter 17: Crayons on Walls, I'll Color on them All
The Gerrard Home for Children was a small, red brick, corner building with a stout green hedge running along one wall and a short, black, wrought iron gate right off the sidewalk. Everything was compressed. Too small for the city, like Stuart Little's brownstone between two skyscrapers. The weeds and flowers and grass stood out against the gray of the other buildings.
Rachel's gaze swept over the smooth, worn stone steps and the faded blue sign. It read "errard" now. The "G" had vanished somewhere in years of disrepair.
"I never knew who Gerrard was." Quinn remarked, pulling Rachel's attention back to her. It was a hot, late August day and they were both sweating lightly. Blonde hair clung to Quinn's forehead and she stood on the steps and smiled at Rachel, hands in her skirt pockets.
"I didn't even know he was a real person." Quinn continued, letting Rachel extract one of her hands to hold. "I named an imaginary friend Gerrard, and we pretended that this was his house. Gerrard and Pooh Bear and I."
Rachel smiled, but didn't laugh. And then she pictured little Quinn running around with a stuffed animal and an imaginary friend, and chuckled into her wife's shoulder.
"What kinds of things did you do with Gerrard?" she questioned, tugging on Quinn's arm.
Quinn narrowed her eyes like she wasn't sure if she was being made fun of. She watched a squirrel run along the fence. "I'd…We'd climb the tree in the backyard. And I'd read to him."
Rachel nodded, smiling fondly.
She could feel the sweat in the crook of Quinn's elbow so she shuffled them towards the front door and out of the baking city heat.
"He was a koala." Quinn added, moving where Rachel directed her.
Rachel laughed. "Gerrard was a koala? Your imaginary friend was a koala?"
"When they leave their mothers' pouches, they eat gum leaves, which are toxic for most mammals." Quinn explained, slowly pushing open the large door and looking around.
Rachel wasn't sure what that had to do with anything.
Quinn lowered her voice. "They're only pregnant for thirty-five days, and then the joeys live in the pouch for seven months."
It was like she was conveying a secret. Rachel listened intently, amused, and reached up and tugged Quinn's ear before she could continue.
"Where do we go, babe?" she asked, gesturing around the large, empty foyer.
The floors were dark wood and worn away in places, and the walls were off-white, nicked around the doorframes and running board, but filled with pictures and art projects and certificates. Quinn bit her lip and dragged her gaze away from a large crayon drawing of a rainbow.
"Hello?" Rachel called loudly because Quinn didn't seem to be taking any action.
Rachel could hear music coming from down the hall to the right and raised voices from straight ahead, in what looked like it could be the kitchen. Naturally, Quinn squeezed her hand and pulled her to the left, away from all the noise.
They walked down a hallway, passing two closed doors and a bathroom before Quinn stopped. She stood outside a wooden door that looked exactly like all of the others, and Rachel stared up at her expectantly.
"Are we going in?" Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.
Quinn swallowed and fidgeted her fingers inside her pockets. "This-this was one of the girls' rooms. Where I lived for six years."
Rachel leaned into her wife's side, thankful for the building's air conditioning. "Let's go inside." She whispered against Quinn's arm.
She didn't want to come off as creepy- slinking into children's bedrooms as a twenty-eight year old woman- but nobody was around. It was a public institution; some sort of receptionist should be kept on hand at all times.
Rachel could hardly be blamed for getting lost as soon as she entered the building. She was simply trying to find her way.
She reached for the door handle. Quinn made no move to stop her.
"Hello?" Rachel called again when the door was open a crack. She pushed it further so that she could stick her head through and Quinn did the same, chin resting on Rachel's dark hair.
"You smell like strawberries, baby." Quinn whispered appreciatively.
Rachel laughed and strode inside the room once she saw that it was empty.
It was large, with two fraying purple carpets on the floor and four sets of bunk beds along the walls. There were no windows, but the overhead lights were soft, and the floor was cluttered with clothes and toys and about a million Legos.
Rachel wondered where all the children were. It could be the start of a horror movie. She spied a Barbie who'd had all of its hair chopped off, or styled, with its feet glued to a Tech Deck skateboard.
Quinn bent over and picked up an Easy Bake Oven spatula and Rachel smiled. She knew Quinn probably would've loved to make herself cookies as a child.
"It's not as…oppressive." Quinn mused quietly, moving towards the closet to their right. "It's lighter."
Rachel hummed vaguely. She wondered if she'd ever have a need for Supernanny or Nanny 911 with her own kids. Hopefully she and Quinn would be able to keep them in line. A flock of talented, neat, fluffy-blonde-haired, big-brown-eyed Berry-Fabrays.
Unfortunately, Rachel could easily picture herself on TV five years down the line, holding a screaming toddler in her arms in the middle of the night and arguing with a four-year-old about the benefits of staying in the corner for time-out and obeying the chore chart.
Unheeded rules and warnings, screeching, crying, slapping.
The woman who lost control of her kids.
"Rachel." Quinn interrupted her thoughts, smiling knowingly at Rachel from the closet.
Rachel shook her head and smiled back because she had Quinn, and Quinn could only raise wonderful babies.
"I used to sit in the closet when the other kids weren't being very nice." Quinn explained, circling an arm around Rachel's waist and pointing at the back of the wardrobe, behind the clothes. Rachel half-expected a door to appear, to Wonderland or Narnia.
"I'd-I'd color on the walls." Quinn continued, eyes sparkling. "You can see there's a little house. And Gerrard and Pooh Bear."
Rachel squinted. She could make out a yellow square, and then a yellow blob next to it with a red splotch, and a gray blob above all of that.
She grinned. Four-year-old Quinn had been talented.
"Is that you?" Rachel questioned, pointing at a few stick figures next to the gray blob. Two of them were inordinately tall. Rachel tilted her head. "And your parents?"
Quinn nodded softly, lips quirked up. Rachel straightened up and kissed the side of her head. She wondered why the drawings hadn't been painted over. And why Quinn had drawings on the wall of every place she'd ever lived. It made Rachel laugh.
"Hello, Quinn."
Rachel jumped at the rumbly voice, whirling around and clutching Quinn's waist to keep her balance. Quinn spun as well, careful to avoid the Lego buildings on the floor.
"I knew we'd see you again before we closed." The voice belonged to a stocky older woman with white hair and a dated floral dress. She was smiling, maybe patronizingly, but her blue eyes were kind enough.
Quinn blinked exaggeratedly. "Hi, Mrs. Nelson." She greeted, gaze on the woman's collar.
Rachel's first instinct was to say something to fill the ensuing silence. She could rarely stop herself.
"Hello! I'm Rachel, Quinn's wife." She said brightly, stepping forward with an outstretched hand, screaming internally when her flip-flop slipped and she stepped on a Lego.
Mrs. Nelson's handshake was solid and warm, and she took a good minute to exchange pleasantries with Rachel.
"How are you, Quinn?" she asked when Rachel stepped back.
Rachel turned around, suddenly aware that her wife hadn't said anything. Quinn's fingers were dancing in her pockets and her hair had flopped over her eyes. Rachel held a hand out and brushed the blonde hair back when Quinn was next to her.
"Very well, thank you. How are you?" Quinn replied softly.
Mrs. Nelson smiled, sticking her hands on her very prominent hips. "I see nothing's changed at all." She remarked, eyeing Quinn.
Rachel frowned. She wondered if the Lego was now embedded in the flesh of her heel.
"I never saw much of her eyes when she lived here." Mrs. Nelson addressed Rachel now, waving a hand in Quinn's direction. "I still remember when she was four and my Roger was still with us, and she came to us after losing her parents, God rest their souls, and she sat in that closet for two weeks straight."
Rachel squeezed Quinn's forearm, not really liking how this woman was speaking like Quinn wasn't present.
"We brought her food, but she wouldn't touch any of it." Mrs. Nelson remembered, eyes drifting upwards like she was picturing it in her head. "Always complaining, you were, Quinn. Silent and stubborn." She shook her head like they were fond memories.
"Well…Quinn's changed a lot." Rachel offered, contemplating the cost of surgical extraction of a Lego from her foot. She didn't really know what else to say.
Mrs. Nelson kept her eyes on Quinn. Rachel could feel her wife squirming under the gaze.
"It's been twenty years." Quinn stated defiantly, finally dragging her eyes up to meet the lofty blue ones fixed on her. Her voice was soft but steady. "And…I wasn't always complaining, Mrs. Nelson."
Mrs. Nelson hummed, amused. "Well, if you want-"
"You know she's an associate veterinarian at the Bronx Zoo now?" Rachel interjected, feeling the need to brag for her humble, sweetheart wife. "She rescues animals. She makes me rescue animals because she is determined and kind and loving. And you're right, very stubborn."
Quinn laughed shortly and Rachel squeezed her arm.
"I've never heard her complain. She's quiet, but she started her own organization for autism awareness and has recklessly entered us in various 5K runs." Rachel continued, smiling genuinely and glad that Mrs. Nelson looked interested. "She likes Sunny Delight, but not orange juice, and she won't eat anything that's come within five feet of onions."
Mrs. Nelson tilted her head and watched Quinn curiously. Rachel kept up her rambling and Quinn pressed her lips together to suppress her smile.
"I don't know if you ever got to know her, but she hates apple juice as well." Rachel remarked, on some kind of unstoppable roll now. "She likes wearing fleece pajamas to bed, even in the middle of the summer, and she doesn't pay attention to the plots in movies. She just likes peoples' facial expressions and the setting, but she'll sing along to every musical we own."
Rachel didn't really know where she was going with this. Her audience was listening, so she plowed on.
"And she tries not to smile too much because she thinks her smile is too big, but really it's the most gorgeous, contagious smile I've ever seen." Rachel grinned just thinking about it. Quinn was pulling it now. "She loves dresses and sweatpants, but only if they're long enough, and she makes ice cubes using the tray instead of the automatic ice maker because she says it gives them more character. When we do laundry, she uses three times the amount of necessary detergent, just for the smell, and she wears turkey sweaters at Thanksgiving and snowman socks in July, and she's-she's just…"
Rachel sighed and laughed at herself because she didn't know what in the world she was talking about. Or where she was or how she'd gotten started.
"That's who she is." Rachel said, staring easily at Mrs. Nelson. "She's changed, but she's Quinn. And Quinn likes bears."
Quinn laughed into the silent room, giving Rachel a look that clearly said "you are a ridiculous person."
Rachel shrugged. She was aware of that fact.
Mrs. Nelson smiled. "No apple juice, huh?" she asked, watching Quinn. "That would explain a lot."
Quinn shrugged, flushing and burying her hands further in her skirt pockets.
"I like this one." Mrs. Nelson continued, nodding her head at Rachel, who was bent over and fumbling around with her flip flop and her foot to see if the Lego had created a need for medical attention.
Quinn smiled and rocked on her heels. "I like her too." She murmured.
"I'll let you two wander freely." Mrs. Nelson offered with a warmer smile. "You were a good heart in a group of not-so-good hearts, Quinn. Make sure you say goodbye before you leave."
Quinn nodded. She seemed pleased and her eyes sparkled as she held Rachel up.
"Is your foot alright, baby?" she questioned when Mrs. Nelson left and Rachel straightened again, bones popping, Lego in hand.
Rachel now had a permanent Lego imprint on her heel, but her foot was fine.
She took Quinn's hand and allowed her wife to lead her out of the bedroom and through all of the nooks and crannies of her childhood. Quinn pointed out the old bookcases by the big window where she'd read about Clifford the Big Red Dog, and a small table where a boy had knocked over a lamp and blamed it on Quinn. She showed Rachel the linen closet, which she used to pretend was a fort, and the fireplace where she was allowed to roast marshmallows one Christmas.
"I got them everywhere and we had to cut my hair, but it was funny." Quinn explained with a smile. She gestured to the doorway between the large living room and the dining area. "And that's where I threw it all up."
Rachel committed everything to memory. She listened carefully and laughed when Quinn laughed and squeezed Quinn's hand when her wife got quiet.
It was a quiet childhood. Bumpy, but positive, and the memories made Quinn's eyes bright.
Quinn pointed to a water faucet when they were standing in the spacious backyard, bare except for a metal swing set and an empty plastic sandbox.
"We were playing with water balloons once." Quinn started, half-smiling and making sure Rachel was listening. "And I was running because some boys were throwing them at me, and I tripped on the step and hit my chin on the faucet, and that's where I got-"
"The scar on your jaw!" Rachel finished loudly, realization dawning. She reached for Quinn's jaw and held it softly to examine the scar, ignoring the amusement in her wife's eyes.
It was small and pale, and only noticeable to Rachel because she'd discovered it herself six years ago.
Quinn puffed out her cheeks to get Rachel to let go of her face. Rachel just leaned up and kissed Quinn's lips, laughing at all the air that was expelled.
"Rachel." Quinn said a moment later, flushed from the heat and gripping Rachel's hands.
Rachel raised her eyebrows.
"I think there's a child following us." Quinn whispered, trying to gesture with her eyes.
Rachel followed her gaze to the side of the building. There was a gap between the red brick and the hedge, and a small, dark head was peering around the corner. Rachel was surprised. All the children seemed to be keeping to themselves, so she tried not to make any sudden movements which would scare this one away.
"How long as he been there?" She asked softly, watching a nervous smile play on Quinn's lips.
Quinn shrugged. "He's been following us since we left the bedroom."
Rachel's jaw dropped. "You should go talk to him!" she whispered loudly.
Quinn faltered. "I-no-I don't…he's a child-I can't-children-they're unnerving."
"Everyone's unnerving to you." Rachel said reasonably.
Quinn flicked Rachel's cheek.
"Maybe he wants to play, bear." Rachel insisted, amused with Quinn's reaction.
"Why don't you talk to him?"
Rachel scoffed. She didn't actually have a reason other than "little kids have sticky hands" and "he's the first child we've seen today, which screams horror movie." But that was insensitive and mean. This was where Quinn grew up.
The boy moved away from the hedge and approached Rachel and Quinn, bounding forward on his hands and feet like a dog. He settled a few feet away, and it was extremely unnerving. This was exactly how demon possession stories started.
Rachel didn't know any exorcists.
"Hello there!" Rachel greeted, waving brightly because Quinn seemed to have frozen and the boy was just staring.
He scooted forward about a foot.
"Are you a dog, honey?" Rachel asked sweetly, wondering if a seven-year-old would take that as an insult.
Quinn snorted a laugh and then covered her nose.
"I'm Simba." The boy stated clearly, holding his chin up high.
Quinn's expression turned completely serious. Her eyes lit up and she fixed her gaze on the boy, awed. Now Rachel had to laugh.
"The lion?" Quinn questioned, crouching down so she was on his level. She tipped sideways and gripped Rachel's calves for balance.
The boy nodded.
"So you were following us like a lion." Quinn clarified with a wide smile.
He nodded again. "You be the zebras and I'm the lion."
Quinn looked absolutely delighted. She didn't even bother telling the boy that male lions aren't the hunters. Instead, she tipped forward onto her hands and knees and shuffled a few feet away into the grass, careful that her skirt was long enough to keep her covered.
The boy looked surprised that he'd actually gotten somebody to play with him.
Rachel was not surprised.
She rolled her eyes and dropped into the grass as well, not wanting to be the only sane person in the backyard. She'd rather be a zebra, so she neighed like a horse because she had no idea what kind of noises zebras made, and took off after her wife.
The grass was wet on her knees, but she tilted forward so that her head was low to the ground like a grazing zebra.
And when the boy rushed Quinn, like a lion pouncing on its prey, and Quinn ran through the grass on her hands and knees, laughing and yelling at the boy to "Go after the other zebra," Rachel knew that she was ready for this in her own life.
She watched Quinn neigh and paw at the air as the boy climbed on her back.
She was ready for a baby.
~oooooooooooooooo~
Rachel stood in the kitchen dumping chocolate chips into a bowl of cookie dough and contemplating how best to approach the "baby" subject with her wife. Quinn would just blurt it out. Slip it into normal conversation and then compliment Rachel's eyes or talk about feline osteoarthritis.
Rachel wanted to give the topic the attention it deserved.
She couldn't remember how many cups of chocolate chips she'd added, so she dumped in another two and mixed it all together. Quinn would appreciate the extra chocolate. It was all vegan, so Rachel would too.
She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to find her wife strolling towards her through the living room. Quinn had Cornelius in her arms, smiling obliviously while black fur clung to her shirt and the dog's tail whacked her shoulder.
Rachel was immediately alarmed. "Is he okay? Why are you carrying him?" she asked urgently, dropping her spoon and scanning for signs of obvious injury to the border collie.
Hacking on bones, open wounds, lumps, cavities, lacerations.
He seemed content to be squished up in Quinn's arms.
"He's fine." Quinn assured with a smile, bouncing Cornelius up a bit so that she could kiss his head. "I was giving him a hug."
Rachel relaxed and laughed exasperatedly. She went back to the cookie dough and smiled to herself when she heard Quinn gasp behind her.
"Seal!" Quinn proclaimed excitedly. Rachel suddenly felt paws pressed into her back and warm breath on her neck. "Rachel's making us cookies!"
Rachel laughed and swung her free hand behind her, slapping Quinn's thigh. "I'm making you and me cookies, bear." She corrected, bouncing on her toes because of the talk she wanted to have.
Quinn moved up next to Rachel, pressing Cornelius's face into Rachel's side and trying to catch Rachel's eye. "You and me and Cornelius."
Rachel knew that tone. That wheedling, playful tone which meant Quinn was pressing buttons and trying to make Rachel laugh. Rachel shook her head, maintaining a straight face. She began doling dough onto the cookie tray and grimaced at the small black hairs floating through the air.
"Rachel." Quinn whispered, adjusting her grip on the dog.
Rachel's lips twitched. "You're getting hair everywhere." She chided.
"It's not me. Fur's just naturally pervasive."
Rachel rolled her eyes and knocked her elbow sideways into Quinn's arm. "You're dangling the source of the fur over my cookies."
Quinn smiled again. She looked pleased with herself. "Our cookies." She corrected. "Yours, mine, and Seal's."
Rachel finally snorted a laugh. She put the spoon down and faced her smiling wife and rested her hands on Cornelius's fluffy back.
"You're ridiculous." She stated, brown eyes sparkling.
Quinn shrugged, holding her gaze. "When will the cookies be ready?"
Rachel ran her fingers through the splotches of black and white fur on Cornelius's back. She tilted her head and eyed Quinn curiously, ignoring the question because she knew for a fact that Quinn knew how long it took for cookies to bake.
"I want to talk to you." She said instead.
Quinn leaned forward and put Cornelius on the ground, heaving exaggeratedly and brushing all of the fur off her t-shirt. She sneezed into her arm and Rachel put the cookies in the oven before they could be further contaminated.
"Are you still worried about returning to the stage?" Quinn asked seriously, rubbing at her nose. "Because that's-"
Rachel shook her head immediately and grasped Quinn's cheeks, smiling slightly. "Go sit down, bear. I'll join you in a second."
Quinn looked suspicious. She nodded and kissed Rachel's forehead and backed out of the kitchen, pausing twice to pet Jelly and Butter. Rachel put all of the cookie ingredients away and loaded the dishwasher, hands shaking from excitement. Or sugar or insanity.
Rachel wanted to run down the street and sing and dance, which wasn't much different from her normal attitude, but she was only barely keeping her enthusiasm bottled up.
When she strode into the living room, Quinn was rubbing her back against the closet doorway, up and down like a tree.
"You know you're not actually a bear, right?" she said with a smile, heading for the couch.
Quinn's eyes lit up at her voice. She pushed off the doorjamb and hurried towards Rachel. "Baby, scratch my back." She instructed, sitting next to Rachel and draping herself over the arm of the couch. "Please."
Rachel smiled fondly and ran her fingers over Quinn's back a few times, tracing shoulder blades and the dip of her spine through thin cotton.
"Let's talk first, Quinn." She requested, and Quinn sat up immediately and turned around, settling back into the cushions and gazing at Rachel expectantly, hazel eyes focused and blonde hair swept up, casual in sweats and bare feet.
"Of course." Quinn murmured. "I love you."
The best way to start off any conversation.
Rachel couldn't contain her smile. "Quinn, bear, how ready do you think you are for a baby?"
Quinn's mouth dropped open and she shifted forward slightly.
"I mean, a month? A year? Two years?" Rachel gestured with her fingers. "Because I feel like I'm ready, and I don't think we should wait too long. I'd like to open the topic up for discussion."
Quinn's eyes darted between Rachel's. They looked hopeful, searching for something. "You-you want to have a baby?" she checked quietly.
Rachel took her wife's hand and nodded.
Quinn's lips curled into a smile and she laughed, loud and melodic. "Rachel! Of course I'm ready to have a baby with you!"
Rachel tilted forward automatically and pressed her lips against Quinn's, steadying herself with her hands on Quinn's thighs. Quinn pushed the dark hair out of Rachel's face when she pulled back.
"You know, the gestation period of a koala is only thirty-four days." Quinn offered with a smile. "They don't have a lot of time to prepare."
Rachel could only nod. Quinn had given her that information before. She was too excited to come up with a response, or to figure out why Quinn was talking about koalas.
"How fast do you want to do this, baby?" Quinn asked, leaning forward and gripping Rachel's knees. "Within…a month? A week?" Quinn chuckled. "Today?"
Rachel laughed and pitched herself sideways into Quinn's shoulder. Quinn wrapped an arm around her and kissed her head and Rachel was so pleased with how this was going. "Soon." She sighed.
Quinn hummed agreeably and rubbed her back. "Do you think I should carry it?" Quinn wondered. "You'll be on the stage for a year and we don't want you to have to leave the show early. But I would like our baby to look just like you."
Rachel knew the logistics didn't need to be worked out right at that moment. She relaxed and listened to Quinn's excited musing, running her hand up the soft cotton t-shirt to scratch her wife's back.
"And we can turn the guest bedroom into a nursery, and paint a giraffe on the wall." Quinn continued animatedly. "Our donor will have to be a very nice person. Somebody who likes Barnaby and says thank you to the bus driver."
Rachel smiled against her shoulder. "And my dads can finally send us all the baby clothes they've been buying."
Quinn agreed. "And all those toys and picture books. They'll be grandparents!"
Rachel tapped Quinn's cheek. "You'll be a mommy."
Quinn's smile dropped until it was small and genuine and fixed on Rachel. Her eyes were shining. Her jaw worked up and down, but no sound came out, and Rachel just leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
"All I can see are elephants." Quinn murmured.
Rachel tilted her head. All she could see were von Trapps.
"And I see you making cookies with our little girl." Quinn continued. "Or frosting a cake with our little boy."
"You're not passing on your eating habits." Rachel interrupted, half-joking.
Quinn ignored her. "And I see them calling you mama, and I'll teach them how to ride a bike, but you'll be the one running after them with a video camera and Band-Aids."
Rachel grunted, unable to suppress her smile.
"And I see you in a rocking chair in the middle of the night, singing a lullaby with our beautiful little baby in your arms and your hair tied back and missing one of your socks, and Rachel…" Quinn tilted her head down until her nose pressed against Rachel's head. "I think it's the most perfect thing I've ever seen. And there's an elephant sitting next to you, so that's even better."
Rachel snorted. She could picture it all perfectly. Even the elephant sitting next to the rocking chair.
"Seal's cookies are burning." Quinn whispered.
And Rachel shoved her away, and then pulled her back for a hug, ignoring Quinn's laughter, because this woman would be carrying her baby soon and Rachel was just so in love with her that she didn't know what to do with herself.
So she let Quinn kiss her cheek one more time and decided to start with milk and cookies.