Chapter 6 - The Light
Suggested listening: From the album, Kaleidoscope Heart, "The Light" by the wonderful Sara Bareilles
"Hey, baby doll. Yeah, I am still here in the hospital. I have a patient that is close to delivering. I probably won't be home till really late. Okay, Quinnie. Good night. I love you, too, " I tell my wife.
I lie back on the couch in my office, thinking about our talk. I should have had that talk with Quinn sooner. I kissed someone else; I kissed Brittany. I think back to that moment on the roof.
Brittany is kissing me
What the actual fuck
My lips have a memory imprinted on them
They remember what this feels like
It's been so long
so very long
I don't mean to kiss you back
I can tell
you are about to pull away
to disengage
to separate
And I don't let you do it
Instead
I kiss you back
I kiss you back hard
The way I used to kiss you
I feel so much in that moment
My heart is beating so fast
I feel like
I am a horse on a racetrack
Out of breath
Racing heart
Sweaty palms
Mind soaring
Abruptly
it's over
You pull away from me
and I am too slow to react
I can see you
running away from me
towards to door
I should stop you
I should run after you
but I cannot
I am stuck
in that space and moment
when our lips touched
I am stuck
were you left me
yet again
You always leave me
That feeling is all too familiar. The last time Brittany left me was for good. We had spent a splendid summer in Lima. We drove back home after her freshman year at Julliard and my sophomore year at Columbia. It was our summer of being BFFs- nothing more, nothing less. We were and always have been each other's best friend since the 3rd grade. After everything we had been through, I had finally been able accept the friendship she always had for me. I realized that it was you who was steadfast and it was I who left our friendship. It was too painful to just be friends, after being lovers in love and so much more to each other. It was difficult, this road back to where we once were. Part of me was happy that I was finally back to this point in our relationship: best friends. I couldn't deny that there was a part of me that was secretly hoping for more, as we drove across state lines. Of course, I had hook-ups (notably, my first one was with Quinn) and even dated some girls. However, none of those girls were Brittany and I knew that I was still in love with her, even after 3 years. We decided to rent a car and go back home. She saw it for what it was, at face value: a summer at home. I, however, saw it as a visitation to where we all began.
I couldn't have asked for more perfect drive. We talked the whole way, taking turns driving, playing "I Spy," gossiping over Klaine, Hummelberry, Faberry, and Tike. By then, Rachel and Quinn had just started dating that past spring semester. We were so happy that they were finally together. We both knew how much Quinn loved her, since high school and it was happening for her. They decided to stay back in NYC for the summer, but they were going to come to Lima for 2 weeks. Everybody goes home at least once during the summer.
It went by in a blur. My time consisted of sunbathing and swimming at my pool and being a research assistant on my mom's current project. My dad was hoping to sway me to oncology, but I knew that I was going to follow in my mom's footsteps. There something about the miracle of birth that drew me in. I wanted to be an Ob-gyn, just like my mom. Brittany was at her old dance studio, helping out her dance teacher with summer dance camp and hip-hop classes. She had convinced me to take the advanced hip-hop class she taught on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Britt reasoned with me, saying that, with both of our busy schedules, we would never see each other if I didn't take the class. I never could say no to her. Being in New Directions did make me a better dancer. I was even taking dance classes thru NYADA's extension program. However, her class was hard, despite those classes. I wanted to take the beginner hip-hop class that she taught but Britt claimed it would be too easy for me. The thing is, I wasn't dancing since I was 3 years old. Everything she does looks so effortless. It took me a couple of weeks to get my bearings and I had so much fun, learning from her. Of course, she were right in goading me to take the more difficult class. I always liked a challenge. We even had a routine for the summer showcase. Quinn, Rachel, Kurt, Blaine, Tina, and Mike were there to cheer me on. I had my own cheering section for a 3 minute routine! I nailed every single move. I felt elated and relieved to have successfully performed a Brittany S. Pierce routine. Afterwards, we went to Breadstix to celebrate. It felt so familiar and so brand new. We were adults now and we had grown up so much from our previous incarnations, as McKinley High Cheerios. Sure, it was easy to fall into familiar patterns. Yet, we were vastly different people, so we were forming new patterns. We were friends again, even better than before.
After dinner, we went to my house. We always go to my house. My parents were at work, per usual, so we had the whole place to ourselves. Brittany raced towards the pool, stripping her clothes off, before cannonballing in with a splash.
"Come on, San! The water feels amazing!" she urged.
I wasn't too sure. I had set in my mind that we were just friends. But I couldn't deny what I felt, knowing that she was naked and that I would be too. Trouble is that I could never really refuse any of her requests. So, I obliged, but kept my bra and underwear on, before diving into the pool. She didn't tease me about not skinny dipping along with her. She knew that this was difficult for me. We had a great time in the pool, swimming laps and just being together. Being this close to her again made me remember all those summer nights we spent here, cooling off after the suffocating heat. It also made new memories, of us just being friends, with no expectations of something more.
After the pool, I went and made us some cocktails, while Britt dried off. She would have preferred to be naked, but she knew what that would do to me. She was tugging on her shorts when I emerged from the back door. I couldn't look away from her sinewy body. She was perfect. I shook my head out of my Brittany haze.
Britt said, "Hey, San. It's hard, huh?"
"What? Oh, umm, yeah, it is, "I reply, as I hand her a mai tai.
I sit down on a recliner and look up at the stars. It was a glorious night sky, the heavenly host twinkling down.
"It will get easier, though. I need to stop wanting more. I need to stop wanting you. It has to get easier, right, Britt?
She gets up from your chair to lie down next to mine. Brittany turns her head to look at me, before clasping my hand.
"Yeah, San. It will get easier. It did for me. Right now, I don't feel like I want to jump your bones, but that took awhile for me. At first, I really missed you physically. Once I knew that that wasn't going to happen anymore, it helped me to move past it. What I missed even more than the sweet lady kisses, was my best friend. There was a long time when we weren't and I understood why we couldn't be friends. Even though my head got it, it took awhile for my heart to grasp that. Finally, we are a point where we can be best friends again, Santana.
I bashfully admit, "I know that I shouldn't want to but I really want to kiss you right now. Under other circumstances, I would totally be kissing you."
"You can if you want to. If you do, San, you need to be willing to deal with what happens after that. You might not be able to stop after just a kiss. You would want more. Heck, I think I might want more," Britt says, with truth behind her eyes.
I lean into her and capture her lips. They move of their own accord, as do my hands. The touching of our lips this time feels different. I can feel myself saying good-bye to that part of me and that part of her. I release her and look into her eyes.
"Did you feel that, Britts?"
"I did. It was our good-bye kiss. Now, we can just be us, as friends," she says, as she wraps her arms around me. Like always, she asks me about the constellations and I just lie back and enjoy being in the presence of my best friend. That was our last kiss, up until the one on the roof. Now that I talked to Quinn about it, I need to talk to Brittany about it.
It's kinda funny how letting Britt go led me to Quinn. At the time, we were two wounded birds, healing both physically and mentally. She allowed me to hold onto her heart and protect it. What I didn't realize is that, by holding her heart, she was holding onto mine. This love caught me off guard. It took me a long time to acknowledge what was happening between us. I had fallen in love with another one of my best friends. Would Tina be next, I jokingly wondered to myself. This time around, loving Quinn felt different from loving Brittany, as it should. They were both different people. I guess I thought that love is love and that it would feel the same. This time my love for Quinn felt so much more organic and true. I was taking all the lessons I had learned, from loving Britt and loving myself, to us. I was free and wide-open; I completely accepted being gay. In fact, I embraced it and, in doing so, allowed myself to feel hope and joy. I was so far removed from 18-year old Santana. We were 5 years from that Santana and I had grown exponentially by leaps and bounds. It was 23-year old Santana that watched Quinn fall down the well of depression. It was I who threw down the rope, encouraging you to grab hold, pulling you back unto solid ground. I was here for you, steadfast in my friendship.
It wasn't anything special that made me realize my feelings for Quinn. It was all the little things: the way she would immerse herself in whatever book she was reading; her smile after she took her fist sip of coffee in the morning; her silly lamb slippers would scuffle across the hardwood floor; her sundresses that she would bring out of her storage in the spring; the matching woolen mittens she knitted for us; the way her forehead would scrunch up, as she did the New York Times crossword puzzle. It wasn't some grand gesture. It was all of it and all of her. It was subtle and these feelings grew out of a place of love and concern for her.
Ever since Quinn's discharge, I felt responsible for her. She scared me shitless and I was still reeling from her suicide attempt. I put up a good front for her. It was at night, after I made sure she was tucked safely in bed and I was alone in my room, that I would allow myself to let go of the heaviness, crying myself to sleep. As the weeks wore on, I could see her progress and I was giving Quinn the space she needed. We developed a routine that we stuck to everyday. The structure helped her, knowing what would be coming and she could prepare her day and her mind for it. Slowly and surely, I could see the light that only Quinn could project. I could recognize parts of this Quinn, from the past. I could also see a new Quinn emerging from that shell of desperation and depression. I welcomed this Quinn with open arms. We all did.
I felt privileged watching Quinnie acclimate to her new life, leaving the tragedy behind. She allowed me to watch her triumphs and struggles. She had a renewed fervor, embracing life again. She was an active participant in the present, not just letting it happen to her. She living in the now, not in her past or future. Quinn let me in, in a way that she never did before. Being friends for as long as I could remember did grant me some access into Quinn's mind. However, her mind had changed dramatically after the rape and the ensuing depression crept into every part of her being. It led her to a depth far below that I wished she never reached. She believed that ending her life was a proper solution. If Rachel hadn't called me, I shudder at the probability that she wouldn't be here now. She didn't vanquish the demons in one day. It wasn't easy, the process of becoming this new, actualized Quinn. It took time and hard work for her to move out of that headspace, where depression touched every aspect of her life. As she surged forward, what I saw was a beam that twinkled and overcame her darkness.
I fell in love with her light. Quinn was able to accept her past and the rape, with assured confidence in herself. She knew that her life wouldn't be all daises and roses. She knew she had developed the tools necessary to make it through the difficult times. Quinn realized that if she could survive her past, she could thrive in her future.
I recognized my feelings for her about 10 months into her rehabilitation. Q was in her Spring semester of her Doctorate program. I barely surviving my first year of medical school. Yale was in full bloom and so was Quinn. I could see that she was releasing herself from the baggage that was weighing her down. It was as if she appeared from the hibernation of winter, shaking off those formidable feelings. She was like those first crocuses, pushing out of the frozen ground, heralding the spring of Quinn.
It was the simple act of her silly grin one morning that set my heart ablaze, beating for her. I set her giant coffee mug in front of her, while she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, bed head in full effect. Quinn sat down in front of me and gave me a wide smile, grateful for her caffeine fix that I always had ready and waiting for her. A daily morning patented Quinn smirk was all it was but really, it was everything. In that simple upturn on her lips, I realized that I wanted this every morning of every day. I wanted to be the first one to witness Quinn like this. I wanted to see the unadulterated version of Quinn, before she washed off the night. If I could be the one she told her crazy dreams to each morning, I would try to make those dreams come true. Quinn was stunning, even in her plaid pajamas and striped socks. Honestly, she looked sexier to me in pajamas, then if she were all dolled up. I must have lingered in my look, because she called me out of my haze.
"Hey, San! Why you looking at me like that? Is my hair that bad?" Quinn asked me.
I just nod and say, "Yes," because I had no other words to say. They were stuck in my throat. I was silent because I realized, in that moment, I was in love with her.
I wasn't frightened by it. I wasn't even scared if she would reciprocate that love. I feared what my love would do to her. I didn't know if she was ready for that kind of admission and I worried if it would be detrimental to her progress and to our closer friendship. Whenever I feel confused in my life, I turn to song. I was studying late one night when Howie Day's Collide played on my iTunes. I always liked the song but I heard it differently. I heard it with a heart full of love. I wanted to collide with Quinn. She made me uneasy and unsteady in a good way. She kept me on my toes and danced with me, through the difficulties and frustrations of medical school. I decided to sing that song to her on open-mic night at Coffee Grounds. I would lay myself out there and gauge her reaction. When I heard the applause and looked up, all I saw was Quinn.
Quinn, full of light, is beautiful, and not just in a physical sense. It is her spirit, her being, that sparkles. She challenges me to be a better person than I was yesterday. She loves me in ways I have yet to discover. Everyday, I wake up next to my own sunshine. She makes me happy when my skies are grey. She will never truly know just how much I love her. My sunshine was almost taken away from me. I will never let that happen again. Quinn's luminescence brightens every part of my life. Her brilliance dazzles my existence. I let her doubt my love for her, with that kiss. I vow to her (and to myself) to never see that look on her face ever again. The look of anguish, disappointment, and contempt as she realized what I was confessing. I can never dim her light again.
beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep
I look down on my pager. Hopefully, Mrs. Jacobs will be the last delivery of the night, then I can head home. Home, where our babies will be fast asleep. Home, where Quinnie will be waiting up for me, nose deep in a book, in spite of me telling her I would be home late.
I miss my Lucy Q.
I miss my wife.
I miss her so very much.
