Part II: The Month Everything Changed
Chapter 1: Whenever You Remember
Suggested listening: From Carrie Underwood's debut album, Some Hearts, "Whenever You Remember"
I was stunned, standing, with my arms empty, my eyes, heavy with tears, and my heart, pulled in too many directions. I didn't even know how I was still standing.
I could vaguely see Tina running after Britt, which was good, because I didn't think I could even take a step forward right now. I felt something when I was holding her in my arms. All of a sudden, I saw guilt pass across Brittany's eyes before she ran off. Why would she look at me that way? What is does she feel guilty for? If anything, it is I who should feel guilty.
Lately, I have been thinking more and more about Rachel. Specifically, our time before kids and marriage and adult responsibilities. Our time together, before Brittany and Santana, when it was you and I and it was them, and not how we are now. It is was not like I was wishing for Rachel to be mine or that I was having any trouble with Santana. In fact, I think watching my wife try to save my best friend and her baby, made me fall in love with her all over again.
I was just longing for a simpler time, as if the time when were together was ever simple. I guess that time has a way of making you forget all the difficult times and makes only the best times stand out. I can close my eyes and recall when it was just the two of us against the world, learning how to be independent women in New York City. I was so fucking scared of everything when I left Lima for Yale. I kept up appearances and gave no clue to my massive worries and insecurities. I wouldn't even let Judy come and help me move-in to my freshman dorm. I said good-bye to her and my past at the airport. It wasn't until I was all alone in my single room at Yale that I broke down and cried. Since my asshole of a father and absent, self-involved older sister both graduated from Yale, I was able to get my own room. For once, I was more than happy to pull that "Legacy" bullshit if it meant I didn't have to share my space with anyone. I was doing okay that 1st month in: attending my classes, enjoying my new environment. It wasn't until I was all alone in my room, when all of my schoolwork was done, I had nothing else to do to occupy my mind. It would always drift to you and the past I left behind.
A past I so desperately wanted to escape and forget: where I didn't give my daughter away; when I sought love from Finn, Puck, and Sam, knowing that deep down it wasn't them I longed for; when I was so mean to you to hide how I much I loved you; when I acted like a bitch to everyone, knowing that I was just a scared, little girl who didn't know how to reconcile the love I felt for you and the religion I believed in. I needed a fresh, new start, where nobody knew my past and I could be reborn into the person I knew I could be. I saw Yale as my new beginning and it was far away enough away from you, but also close enough to know that you were just a train ride away. We had gotten closer that summer before we started our new lives in the big city, learning how to be friends, after being adversaries for so long. It all felt so new, forging this tenuous friendship with you. I was still so very careful because I didn't want to ruin it.
After you came back from your forced trip to NYC and NYADA, we tentatively started our friendship. Kurt, Blaine, Santana, Brittany, you, and I would go shopping for stuff we needed for college. We were going to Walmart, Target, and Macy's almost every day to get sheets or a lamp or some other thing that was on the check-lists that were sent out with all of our acceptance letters. You were going to be living with Kurt. Santana was going to be living off-campus with her twin cousins, Regina and Rebecca, who were sophomores at Columbia. Blaine and Brittany were going to finish their senior year at McKinley, with hope and plans to follow us to New York after graduation. The funny thing is, at the end of the day, when Klaine and Brittana left, we would still be there, not wanting to leave but not really knowing how to stay. So, I would leave first and the next time you would leave first. It was 5 weeks into our last summer in Ohio when we didn't have to leave each other. We were going to have a slumber party to celebrate because Mercedes and Puck were leaving for California next week. We all ended up in Santana's home because she had the biggest house and no parents around, since they were always working at Lima General Hospital.
You were last arrive and the party was already in full swing. Predictably, San was already two drinks ahead of everyone, encouraging all of us to keep up with her. Britt was jumping off of the diving board, while Arty, Mercedes, Mike and Tina were over at sound system making a playlist off of Santana's iTunes. Finn, Sam and Puck were by the beer keg that Santana's dad got, as a bon voyage present for all of us. I think he was genuinely happy that you finally had friends, Santana, and as long as we swore to not drive that night and stay at the house, he trusted you. Kurt and Blaine had said their hellos then went off somewhere, for some private time. Sugar was mixing the girly cocktails with Santana, which, in hindsight, was not the best idea. They were making ridiculously strong mai tais and cosmos. I remember feeling nervous when I had no reason to. I was amongst friends, the people who stood by my side when I needed them the most. I felt too restless; even Santana, in her drunken haze picked up on it. She dragged me indoors and no one even noticed.
"Q, why are you so fucking nervous, right now?"
"I am NOT, Santana."
"Can't fool me, Quinnie. Whenever you say you are 'NOT' in that tone of voice, you so are."
I sighed in defeat. There was no real point in lying to her. She could always read me like an open book. Before I could even say anything, she says it:
"Berry, right? You are thinking of manhands, wait, sorry. Rachel. You are thinking of Rachel," she says, as she touches my arm and looks at me with sincerity. This is the Santana that I was getting to see more and more of. Perhaps it was Brittany's influence or the idea that this would be our last summer ever in Lima, Ohio, that made her more open and genuine. People always marvel at the closeness between her and Brittany. They always seem to forget that we were all best friends since forever. We had known each other since Santana was the new girl that September day, our first day of 3rd grade. I suppose, it was more of a tense love/hate friendship between us versus the love/love relationship she had with Brittany, even as 8-year olds. Ten years later, standing in her kitchen, with no more Cheerios or Glee, no more hiding her love for Brittany, I saw Santana with new eyes. I saw a confident, self-assured, woman released from all the pretenses and expectations that previously held her back. In her, I could see all of the things I wanted to be, but I wouldn't let myself. Santana seemed to see my face change, as she just pulled me into her arms.
"I know, Q. You love her, you really do. And that's so fucking scary, isn't it? Trust me, the more you push it down and ignore it; the more you try to forget, the stronger it becomes, until all you do is think about her 24/7. "
"But I already do that San. I think about Rachel all the fucking time. What do I do, S? I can't do anything about it. I mean, I cannot tell her. She'll just laugh in my face. She'll think I am pulling some kind of joke. I'm a fucking mess."
I hear the backdoor open and see Britt walk in. She has had the unenviable task of being peacemaker between San and I for years. She had a soft smile on her face as she saw us embracing. I guess she assumed she was going to be breaking up another one of our massive fights. She took one look at me, then to her girlfriend, and she just said, matter-of-factly: "You got it bad, huh, Quinn."
I was so grateful to have them in my life, not just as my oldest and closest friends, but for their experiences with acceptance and coming out. They never judged me or pushed me towards anything I was not ready for. They were just there for me, after I revealed my true reasons for bullying you. After that, Santana stopped calling you all those horrible names, except for "manhands," but she said it ina different tone. She wasn't using it to taunt you anymore; she said it in a caring way, well as much as Santana could say anything to anyone in a caring tone, who was not Brittany S. Pierce. Even you picked up on it and you appreciated this new kindness you were given. You didn't know it was because of me. It was because Santana finally understood the whole Perfectionist Ice Queen persona that I held for so long. Just like I understood her whole Head Bitch In Campus persona. We had to keep up these reputations to hide our true selves from the world and, more importantly, from ourselves. As long as we could play these roles, no one would suspect that we were two scared shitless lesbians in love with our best friends. Well, Britt was Santana's BFF and she was mine too. You and I were just starting to be friends and I was already in love with you for so long.
We stayed in the kitchen for awhile, enough for Santana to sober up, Brittany to snake her way in between us, and for me to calm down, thanks to my best friends. I think it was Sue who first called us "The Unholy Trinity" and I know we did reek havoc upon McKinley. Brittany and Santana were my oldest, closest, and dearest friends. I know that, while I was ready to move on, I was hoping that I would never move on from them and our friendship. I excused myself from them so that could have some private time. I always knew that there was something more between them, even when we were little kids. It was electric, in the air around them, and it was undeniable. I know that it took them a long to figure out what it was and that it took San even longer to accept it. Before I went back out on the deck, I looked back at them, just holding each other, and I smiled to myself. I knew that there was nothing that would ever come between those two. Brittany and Santana had become Brittana.
As soon as I got to the pool area, Sugar handed me a cocktail, and I saw you over by the boys. They were making you laugh and I could see that Finn was trying to get close to you. I cringed as I saw it happened, the alcohol making things less awkward between the two of you. I downed the insanely strong drink, grabbed another one, and headed over to the keg. Since I had dated all three of them, made out with them, gave birth to one of their daughters, I knew that I still had a hold over all of them. Well, not so much on Finn, since he was still in love with you. Sam was a sweetheart; he so full of love that he gave it to me, Mercedes, and maybe even Santana. Puck did care and I knew that he was in love with me, when I was carrying Beth. That was the thing: all of these men, at some point, were in love with me, over the last three years. What did I feel for them? I realized, taking in the scene before, that I never did love any of them. I was only in love with you. I downed that 2nd cosmopolitan and I walked into the conversation. Sam was doing his ridiculous impressions and it was obvious that everyone was buzzing. The cocktail Sugar made gave me the liquid courage I needed to do what I so afraid of doing.
"Hey, Rachel. Can I grab you for a second?"
You looked at me curiously, but I know you would come with me. You just nod your head and, before I know it, I am shepherding you over to the gazebo. I didn't think this far ahead and Sugar's knock out cocktails are really hitting me now. I look at you and recognize the glassy, goofy look upon your face. The last time I saw it was at your dads' house the night we all got wrecked.
I sat us both down on the bench in the gazebo. It was far enough away from everyone that they we couldn't really hear what was going on. It was private. Santana had turned on the white Christmas lights they had here all year long. They had lit citronella candles to keep the bugs away. I didn't even know what I was doing and you didn't either.
"Quinn, what are we doing here?" you asked, looking around. It was the first time you were here. This new friendship gave you access to Santana's home since I was always here, instead of my own home. Britts, San, and I were always sleeping at each other houses since forever. We were so close that it didn't dawn on me that maybe this was the first slumber party you ever had. It was certainly your first one at Santana's house. and she basically lived on an estate. There were so many parts you had not been to yet, just like this one. I smiled as I remembered what this spot was to us; Britts, San, and I used this place to make out with boys, then they used it to make out with each other. Fuck! Is that what I thinking of doing here, with Rachel? The alcohol fog was clearing my mind and I could see that Britt and San had set this up for me: the lights, the music, the candles. It was what they were hinting at in the kitchen:
"Q, you just need to relax. Have a couple of those awesome cocktails that Sugar is making. Give some to Rachel and just go with the flow. Stop thinking so much. It will make your head explode. Spend time with her. Let her get to know this Quinn, the one that we love."
Santana adds, "Yeah, Quinn. Listen to my girlfriend. Give her that Fabray charm. Take over to, well, you know the place, where the magic happens, "as she gives me a wink.
Well, we were there, were all of the magic usually does happen and you were looking at me expectantly, since I was the one that brought you here. I was glad that you were more buzzed than me and I could see that they had left a bucket with champagne and 2 flutes. They also left me a note, that I snatched out of your view and quickly read, in Santana's chicken scratch:"Go get you girl, Quinnie, even if it is manhands." Then, in Brittany's crayon scribble: "Be bold. Be you, Q. xoxo p.s. look in the fridge"
"What's that?" You ask me.
"Oh, it's a note from Santana on where everything is." Apparently, they also left strawberries and vegan whipped cream (there was such a thing?) in the mini fridge that was normally stocked with more liquor.
"Are you hungry, Rach, cause there are some strawberries, if you would like some."
I think, I was just happy to have something to say. I felt my phone vibrate and looked at the new message: 'Good, you made it over there. Go get her, tiger.' I text back Santana: 'Thanks for the set-up, I think,' as I open the fridge and grab the items.
Rachel's eyes go wide with anticipation as she sees the strawberries and cream. I should have guessed that strawberries would be her favorite, with Berry as her last name. We ate those and had some fun with the whipped cream, flinging it at each other. I opened the bottle of champagne, thankful for the benefit of more alcohol, to ease my nerves. If Rachel were a boy, I'd already be rounding 2nd base by now. I was so clueless with her. I poured us two glasses of the bubbly and handed her one.
You said, "I think a toast is in order..."
I know enough to never steal a moment of spotlight from you, "Go ahead, Rachel. You make the toast."
You clear your throat and I think you are also trying to clear your booze-filled mind, before you speak: "To Us...(I nearly choked on the strawberry I was eating) this new friendship we are starting. I am really so glad, Quinn, that we can be friends now. I never thought it was possible. So, to us, and to our bright new futures away from Lima," you conclude, with your champagne flute raised high.
I add, "Yeah, Rach, to our friendship and our new beginnings at NYADA and Yale."
We clink glasses before tasting the the golden, bubbly liquid. I was sure that this was the first time drinking champagne, because you had this giddy look on your face as you felt the beverage enter you mouth and go down. I took a second glance at the bottle and realized that Santana had stolen this from her parents' secret stash of alcohol, the one they thought we didn't know about. Besides the palacial house, the accessibility of alcohol was another reason why Santana hosted these parties. Her parents trusted her and she was raised to have respect for the pleasure and power of alcohol. It was very European, which made sense, because her mother spent her childhood in Spain and France before moving to America for high school. Dr. Lopez raised her daughter to have an appreciation for wine with meals, for aperitifs and after-dinner drinks. It gave Santana an alcohol lexicon far beyond her 18 years and it did make her responsible. Her parents would rather she have us (meaning Brittany and I) at their house, drinking and spending the night, instead of us getting wasted at some houseparty or frat house.
"This is the good stuff, Rachel, so enjoy it. This bottle here costs $100." I say, as I savor another sip.
You look at me in amazement. "How do you know that?"
"This is from Dr. Lopez's private collection. Santana must have smuggled it out when they were not looking. This is really good champagne. You can taste the fruity notes..."
"Wait, so you have had this before? Private collection?"
I laugh as I begin to explain Santana's upbringing and how she taught me everything she knew about wine, champagne, and cocktails. It was because of San that I couldn't drink beer, not when all this other stuff was so much better. I forgot that there was so much Rachel didn't know about Santana. There so much more that she didn't know about me.
As I finished my explanation, I poured us another glass. I could feel my buzz coming back and I was feeling more at ease with the situation at hand. I saw you and you took my breath away. With the twinkling lights illuminating you, wearing an pretty sundress that showed off your legs, I could feel my desire for you growing. I blushed as I looked at your lips lingering on the rim of your flute, wondering what it would be like to kiss you.
I put my glass down and stood up. I extended my hand out to you:
"Rachel Barbra Berry, may I have this dance?"
You looked up at me, with those beautiful brown eyes, put down your glass and gave me your hand. I spun you around until we were in proper position, as I led us all around floor of the gazebo. We took turns dipping each other. Being in Glee had made us both better dancers and we enjoyed dancing around for the fun of it, with no competition at stake. I was having so much fun, just being with you like this. I looked in your eyes and could tell that you were having just as much fun. I detected a bit of surprise and shock, too. After all, a couple of months ago, this would have never happened. We would never be alone, drinking champagne, dancing, in Santana Lopez's backyard. Yet, here we were and it all felt so right. It was the first time I was in this gazebo and it all finally made sense. The feeling I was searching for, longing for, with all those boys, I had found it with you. It so exhilarating and so terrifying at the same time. I knew that I did love you I had for a long time. But being like this, in this moment, it made me remember what Santana and Brittany looked like. It made me remember what it looks like to be in love. Santana told me that when she finally realized she was in love with Brittany, it felt like the most wonderful feeling in the world, like she was free. But that she was also so scared, that her love for her was so overwhelming, it terrified her. And that was exactly how I felt.
I was in this moment, my head spinning from love and alcohol, dancing with you, looking at you and just wanting you so much. I had never felt like this about anyone before. It was never more crystal clear to me: I was in love with you and being in love you meant that was gay. I could no longer deny these two truths I had been running from; not when you were so close to me, I could smell your shampoo and feel your hand at the small of my back. I closed the small space between us and embraced you. It was the first time, I ever hugged you. Sure, you had hugged me in the past, but I never reciprocated and most certainly, never initiated it. I held onto you, buried my nose in your hair, and breathed in your intoxicating scent. Time stood still. It was just you and I, in this space, where nothing else mattered. I could feel your arms encircling me. I didn't even realize I crying, until you said it:
"Quinn? Are you okay? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
You grabbed me by the shoulders and took a step back, to see the tears rolling down my cheeks. You thumbed them away, in a such a caring and gentle way, that it only made cry more. It made me feel guilty for all those times I made you cry and I wasn't there to comfort you. It was not your fault that I loved you and you never deserved any of the torment I put you through. I was so selfish. How were you to know that it made me die inside, every insult I said to your face? I didn't know how to ask for your forgiveness. I know that I had no right to even ask for it. After that toast you made, sincerely wanting us to be friends, I knew that I had to give you some sort of explanation. You deserved that much for me; to know why, for four long-suffering years, I bullied you. I took several gulps of air before I spoke:
"I am so sorry, Rachel. I know that you might not believe me, but I really am sorry, for all of it: the nicknames, the sneers, the looks, for making your life a living hell. I am so very, very sorry, Rachel. You need to believe me. If I could take it all back, I would. Every single word. But I cannot. I know that you don't have to believe me. I don't even know why you are here with me right now. How you can stand to even be near me, after everything I put you through. Shit. I just...I apologize, Rachel. Please for forgive me. As difficult as it may be for you to believe this, I honestly never meant to hurt you. I just had, well I still have so much to deal with and I guess I just took it all out on you. Which was completely unfair and unnecessary. You did nothing to deserve the way I treated you. I am ashamed and embarrassed at my behavior. I would understand if you never wanted to see me or speak to me ever again. Just know that I am truly sorry, Rachel, ok? I am sorry."
I broke out of your embrace, because I couldn't stand to look at you looking at me like that, with pity and understanding, instead of the hate and anger I deserved. I thought I was fast enough to make my escape, but you pulled me back into your arms. You soothed me, rocked me, until I stopped shaking, until I cried out all of my tears. It was long time after, as we sat back upon the bench, still in each other's arms, that you spoke:
"Quinn, I always admired you. Ever since the first day I met you, in 9th grade. You always had this aura of confidence and bravado about you. You were the prettiest girl I ever saw and you looked nothing like me: Tall, slim, with gorgeous, long blonde hair and hazel eyes. You were athletic, already picked for The Cheerios. You were in the popular crowd from the first day of high school. You were smart too, in most of the honors classes, with Santana. I was enamored by you, but so was everyone else- the boys wanted you, the girls wanted to be you, the teachers wished all of their students were like you. I guess I was happy that you just noticed me. Sure, the words hurt, but your insults were always so clever; not the usual things I would hear. As the years went on, I just expected it from you and grew to accept it. I knew that I didn't have "manhands" or looked like a "hobbit;" I did have self-worth and self-confidence. It just made me wonder what you were hiding. I could tell that there was something you were holding back and I could see that you were playing everyone. You were the perfect student, cheerleader, girlfriend, until you weren't and got pregnant with Beth. Then everyone abandoned you. Except Glee club...except me."
I couldn't believe that you saw thru it all; that you could tell I was hiding something from the entire world.
"I wanted so much to be your friend, instead of enemies. But Finn got in the way and we were constantly vying for him. And now? Here we are. Finn is out of the picture for me and for you. And we can now be friends. So, Quinn, I accept your apology. And I forgive you. Let's leave it all in the past. I don't want to carry this heavy baggage over to New York City, I have enough bags to carry, don't you?"
I swear, I couldn't love you even more in that moment. You forgave me and did feel some of the weight I was carrying lift from me. I almost told you that night, how I felt, but I think that one big emotional cry fest was enough for one night. I still had a lot to sort out and think about. So, I took a napkin and dabbed your eyes. I looked deep into them and just acted. I gave you a quick peck on the lips and said, "Thank you Rachel. You will never know what this means to me." I took you by the hand and led you back to the party, before you could even process what just happened. Of course, I would tell you much later on what that night meant to me; how it began my journey of self-acceptance; how it led me to you, three years later, underneath the blanket of stars, when I finally, really kissed you that way I wanted to for so long.
"Here, Quinn, I got you a hot tea with lemon, " Sam says as he hands me the warm cup. "You okay?" he asks, full of concern. I shake my head, as if that action could stop the memories from coming.
He wraps me in a hug and I give myself into the comfort of his arms. Mike had to go back to the studio and Tina was presumably with Brittany. Mercedes, Arty, and Marley came and left, as did Blaine and Kurt. I didn't know how long we were all in the waiting room. It felt like all time had stopped. Slowly, people had to leave, get back to the kids. With promises of updates, soon it was just Sam and I waiting.
"She'll make it, Quinn. You'll see. She's got the best in there. Your wife will do everything she can to fix her."
Hearing Sam talk about Santana just makes me remember how dramatically our dynamic has changed since high school. How the Unholy Trinity and Rachel Berry has turned into what it is now. I never could have imagined this, in any dream. I prayed that my wife could do it; save Rachel. She already saved her daughter, she had to save Rachel too.
As if on cue, the door of the waiting room opened, and a tired and dejected Santana went straight into my arms. I didn't know how to gauge this action, so I just waited until my wife spoke:
"Rachel is still alive. We almost lost her a couple of times. We still might. But, for now, she is alive. Dr. Novick and I tried to do everything we could to prevent it, but she had to have a total hysterectomy. She is in recovery right now, then she will taken to the ICU. Where's Britts?" San scans the room, seeing just Sam and I.
Sam speaks: "She ran out of here a while a go. I assume that she is with Tina, unless she is still running all over this hospital, trying to find Brittany."
A small smile creeps unto Santana's face. "I know where she is. How is the baby?"
"We don't know because we are not immediate family." Quinn answers.
"Well, fuck that. Don't they know who are her parents are? Who I am? I do enough for this goddamn hospital..."
I know, from experience, to just let you go off on a tirade, especially when there is so much at stake. Sam and I just follow after you, on a rampage towards the NICU. Seeing the entrance makes me remember the last time I was here, when Holden and Harper were born. You could feel my apprehension, as you turned around and took my hands.
"Baby, I'm just going to go and talk to Lisa and see what is going on with the baby, ok? Stay here with Sam. I'll be right back," Santana says, as she kisses me, to reassure me and to center herself. I can tell what she needs when she kisses me like that, so I kiss her back, to let her know how much I love her. She squeezes my hands before she lets them go. She uses her badge to let her into the locked down unit and smiles at me, before the door closes behind her. Sam just puts his arm around me and we wander off to the big window in from nursery, where there are a bunch of overjoyed fathers, grandparents, and siblings pointing at healthy babies, swaddled in standard hospital blankets, with blue or pink caps on their heads. As I looked at all of those babies, I wished that Brittany and Rachel's baby was here, instead fighting for her life in the NICU.
