I'M GAY

(Quinn)

I opened my eyes without much ease. I awaked some time ago, but kept my eyes clenched in a foolish desire to pretend I was alone. I felt Sam's hand caressing my back. He knew I was awake and I had no more use in pretending. I turned to his side and saw him and his silly huge grin.

"Good morning."

"Morning." My voice was hoarse.

"How do you feel?"

"Sore." I said without thinking and provoked guilt in my boyfriend. "Oh, not just because of that." I hastened to explain. "I had a busy week with cheerios practice. The Regionals are coming and Sylvester is spitting fire."

It was true. The workouts had been so hard that I caught myself questioning if it was worth going through this to ensure the scholarship. It was so stressful to wake up at six in the morning to practice, then study, and in the meantime to manage a bunch of girls that would love to stab my back in a heartbeat. I made a mistake when I betray Santana to get her place early in the school year. I lose a strong ally and a friend. Kinda. What I know is that Santana didn't trust on me anymore and it would be wiser to remain as the second in command for a while. Santana was a natural leader, I got that, but she was temperamental and would end up making a mistake that would cost her leadership. But my Fabray side spoke louder and I had to kill it outright.

After that messy fight in school hallway, Santana made very clear that I had lost my ally. There was still a little help of Brittany, but only because she always had a strong team drive. Much more than Santana and I ever had. We always liked rival each other. But I knew it was about to break too. After Hiram Berry's death, Santana seemed to lose all desire to be on the cheerios, if she ever had any, and Brittany was determined to support her no matter what. I felt it would be a matter of time to Santana give up, so I really would be alone.

Despite the cheerios, I continued to make the usual nozzles to ensure some money for my personal expenses. My mother's pension is so little that we had the money to pay the basic bills and food, and what left over, we buy personal stuffs. Instead of clothes, my mother began to spend on drinks. She cleaned the home, sewed, cooked, and at the end of the day, she drunk a (large) glass of cheap wine.

The choir worked as a moment of leisure. Although the whole fight and the weekly mess, the activity was a breather. The choreographies were always light, the atmosphere was more relaxed. Sometimes I could sing my demons in musical metaphors and was gratifying to see my friends did the same. And Rachel had increasingly shaped both physically and vocally. I felt I could approach her more as we began to develop a good friendship. A pity that Hiram had to die to I try being part of Rachel's life in a positive way, without caring about what my family or the popular kids were thinking.

If that was all I could have of Rachel Berry-Lopez, I take it. I could be Quinn Fabray, captain of the cheerios, bitch, popular, honor roll student, choir member and friend of the loser diva.

"How are you?" I returned the question to my boyfriend.

"Amazing." He looked like a blown boy. Well, Sam got in my pants.

"That good?"

"It was the best night I have ever had." He blushed. "It was the first time I spent all night with a girl... not that I hadn't many girlfriends before... I actually had one and I think I'm talking too much."

"Not so much. A girl?"

"I lost my virginity to this girlfriend I had before I moved to Ohio. But we were always in a hurry."

"Interesting." It wasn't.

I looked down at Sam and kissed him. I decided to have sex with him because he showed signs that he was losing interest. I wasn't a virgin and so he, a baby went through my vagina, and had no family reputation to uphold. My apologies for keeping my legs closed were getting worse and I had to kept that relationship to ensure my popularity. Sincerely, Sam was the best option of all the bad ones I had at McKinley High. Or we would go all the way or break up.

I decided to make a special date. We dined in Breadstixs, we danced in one of the few pubs that don't expel under 18 for presenting poor quality fake I.D, and then I invited him to come to my house. I bought condoms at the pharmacy and did what I thought I had to do. I tried to enjoy the moment, different from what happened in my first time with Puck, but it wasn't what I expected. Sam would be sad if knew my real opinion about our night.

I kissed him again. First on the forehead and then the mouth.

"I love you!" He shot.

He said the L work too soon. But, again, he was the guy who offered me a ring after a week dating. Too bad I didn't feel the same, but remain in silent would hurt him bad. Sam was a decent guy to have the spell broken at our first time, especially after four months of dating. Then I lied.

"I love you too!"

"I want to stay here forever!" Sam grinned.

"But we have to go to church!" I closed my eyes when I realized how hash it sounded. "You know." I change the tone. "As much as we want to be here, we have our obligations to the church and the community."

"Of course." He looked at me in a funny way. "Quinn, I know it's lame to ask this, but... how I was?"

"You were great and I am fully satisfied."

It was a lie and I pretended orgasm. Yes, I knew what is like to have one. My fingers and Lady Barbra gave me some. The male body doesn't attract me. Sam had a perfect body, but it was too hard, too heavy. There is no connection. Moreover, he didn't last longer. Not in ridiculous Finn Hudson way, but the two rounds we had, he came well before I had any chance.

"Where are you going?" He asked when I got up from bed and put on my hobby.

"Bath." I replied drought.

"Can I?" I leaned back on the bed to kiss him and forced a smile.

"There are things I'd rather do it myself."

I had my bath. A long one. The water on my back was relaxing and it energized me. The steam from the hot water fogged mirror. I cleaned it up and stared at my still blurry reflected image.

"I think I'm gay!"

…

(Santana)

"This town is so dull."

"I don't think so. It's better than Lima." Rachel pondered.

"Two things that I still don't understand. A: why Shelby decided to stay in Ohio. B: Why are we here?"

"Do you want an honest answer?" Rachel snapped and I decided it was for the best to keep quiet.

Once adopted Beth, Shelby had considered returning to New York, but decided the city wouldn't be the healthiest environment for a single mother raising a baby. Then, she accepted a job offer in a Middle School at Dayton. She financed a house that was only five minutes from work.

Shelby went more into our lives after Dad died. Papi received her well, I loved Beth, and Rachel wanted her mother in her life. There was no drama about it. For my part, while she kept reasonable distance it would be okay. I didn't want to connect emotionally with anyone else. It was too painful to know that the people I loved the most were abandoning me. Dad is gone for good. I'll never see again his smile, gardening, playing the piano or arguing with Rachel about music and divas.

Brittany was going to leave Lima. Uncle P took the job in the Los Angeles Times as art editor. He was already on the west coast arranging everything and the rest of the family was moving definitively in the summer. It was the damn Los Angeles, full of opportunities. Brittany has a chance to join the best dance companies. It was her destiny. What about me? I was inclined to accept Zaide's offer. Maybe I should do Stuyvesant's admission test, and live one year in New York to prepare for Harvard. I talked with zaide's friend, Mr. Caleb Weiz, and he assured me that I could have an internship at his company and any assistance I needed. If I wanted, I could even stay at his mansion in Kings Point. It was a large place for an old millionaire, widower and lonely, despite his younger girlfriends. His two sons died young and Weiz didn't have a heir to enjoy his fortune. Poor bastard.

Papi hated the idea. He blamed me for letting myself be influenced by Zaide. On the other hand, there was a cogent question: Stuyvesant was one of the best schools in the country and it opens some doors to great universities. Since Brittany wouldn't be here, what was the point of staying at William McKinley High?

"Turn left." Rachel looked the GPS.

"This one?"

"Yes!"

Rachel was a bad navigator. She warned at the last moment.

"This is the street."

It was a middle class neighborhood with equal houses, cut lawns, collective backyards.

"I think it's that green house."

"Are you sure?" I drove slowly down the street.

"It matched with the description." I pulled over the car in front of the house. I took a deep breath to create the courage. I was doing my first official visit to my birth mother.

We barely got out and saw the front door open.

"Girls!" Shelby was with Beth in her lap.

"Hello Shelby." I said.

"Hi mom." Rachel said.

I clapped my hands in front of Beth to see if she would come on my lap. She should be coy, or grumpy, because she turned her face. I was rejected, but in a whole cute way. Shelby, of course, laughed. I insisted more. It didn't work. I took her anyway and threw her into the air. Beth started laughing. I was so good in won princesses. Rachel waited to embrace Shelby before get in the house.

The residence was functional. The living room has a TV and a comfortable sofa. Beth toy's was scattered. The bathroom was nicely decorated, Shelby's room was simple and elegant. Beth's one had light yellow decor. There was a smaller room that Shelby called the mess room. Everything was in place and clean. It was surprising to know that a sophisticated woman like Shelby could also be a homebody.

"The entrance to the basement is outside, next to the garage. But it isn't worth showing. It's just the washer and the dryer place." She explained.

"It's a nice house." Rachel praised.

"The neighborhood is good?" I questioned. "I mean, looks like a red neck neighborhood. These people have a problem with you being a single parent?"

"You shouldn't judge without knowing, Santana. And I have nothing to hide. Or would I?"

"I don't know your life, Shelby."

"Santana!" Rachel warned. "We didn't come here to fight."

"You're right. I came here to play with Beth" I still provoked.

"Enjoy and play around with your little sister while Rachel helps me with lunch. I hope you like bolognese sauce."

"I do. But Rachel..."

"The pasta is vegan. That's why I made the sauce apart."

Rachel smiled gratefully for the consideration. I couldn't deny that Shelby can cook. She was struggling to keep a nice chat and a good relationship that was able to erase our disastrous first dates. During our meal, Rachel told stories about our childhood. I kept silent and only spoke when I thought I needed to defend myself.

"I am curious about the time you spent in New York." Rachel said when we were helping to clean the dishes.

"Those were the most insane years I have ever had." Shelby said with nostalgic air.

"And Broadway?"

"What can I say, Rachel? I've worked on a lot of small productions."

"You made some porn?" I taunted and Rachel wanted to kill me with her glance. "Like Cameron Diaz and Jackie Chan?"

"I took erotic photos once, maybe twice." She didn't seem embarrassed and gained my respect.

"That's disgusting!" Rachel bad reacted.

"I'm not proud of it. Moreover, when you are 24 and desperate for a job because your rent is two months late and you desperate for a burger, you do whatever you need to do to survive. I never prostitute myself or worked as striper or was on a porn movie, but did things by necessity."

"How could you do that?" Rachel was indignant. "Didn't you have the money my dads gave to you?"

"I made bad investments."

"And what else?" I wanted to continue.

"I did plays, local TV advertisements, small characters on indie movies. And I also was waitress and a production assistant, I distributed flyers, worked in a clothing store, sang in pubs, I majored in Theatre at Lehman College and applied for Tirch's Special Programs for Adult Learners. I lived intensely in New York."

"Did you fall in love in New York?" Shelby blushed and grinned embarrassed by Rachel's question. Then she asked us to follow her.

"I lost a lot of things in the various moving houses." She pulled out a cardboard box on the mess room. "But I would never forgive myself if I stayed without certain stuffs. This box saves much of my emotional New York City memories."

She allowed us to take away the objects of the box. It had ticket stubs, posters of the plays she worked, trinkets, a miniature of a yellow cab, many photos of a younger Shelby.

"Who is this man?" I pointed to a dark, very handsome man who appeared with some frequency in the photos.

"Peter Lawson, ex-boyfriend. He was a musician and used to play in the pubs of the Village."

"He made it?" I asked.

"No. He got a formal job and then married another woman."

"Why didn't work with you guys?" Rachel asked.

"Sometimes you're so in love and blind that you think that you're living the most true and sincere love, until life tells you otherwise." She searched the box and pulled out a tape K7. "This here would be our hit record." She put the tape on the stereo.

The arrangements weren't good, the guitar was flat and soon I understood why Peter Lawson didn't succeed. The letters were kinda nice and Shelby's vocals were gold. What I didn't understand was how she couldn't succeed on Broadway? She has what was needed: voice, beauty, posture.

"Not bad!" I commented.

"A critic would hate this, but this is one of the most important records in history because here are my feelings, my own words. If you want to know how my life was in New York, it may be simpler hear this demo."

"Can I have it?" Rachel asked excited.

"I will make you a copy and send you later. This is ok?" Rachel nodded positive.

We left in the early evening. The visit was surprisingly pleasant. It was not yet possible to say that Shelby did or not part of the family as I understood. It was a first step.

…

(Quinn)

I had some recurring customers since I started working. The Dimeries usually needed me on Fridays to take care of little Pamela (3). Friday was their date day, so the couple goes out to dinner or attended adult social engagements. I think they go to swing parties. I arrived at seven in the evening and found the little girl already bathed. All I needed to do was give her milk, make her brush teeth, play a little, let her watch some cartoons, maybe tell a story and put her to sleep before ten o'clock. The couple arrived between midnight and one o'clock. Until then, I read a book or watch television. Sometimes I am dozing on the couch.

I taught math and grammar to Bart Smith (10) twice a week. I was a cheaper solution for the parents and the boy liked me. My schedule also had space to teach any subject to Emma (11) on Mondays. That would depend on the difficulty of the week. Emma was very smarty and was more interested in asking questions related to hormones and their effects, for example, why she started liking a boy she used to hate.

There were occasional customers, as Kevin Brody (13) whose parents just called me to give reinforcement when he failed in some test. And I had Owen James (4), whose I babysitting when his mother really needed.

The deal with all the children's parents were professional. I do my services, I am paid for them and leave. No emotional involvement. Except, maybe, Nina James. She was the young single mother who became pregnant by accident at 21 by a useless, as she set the kid's father. I went to her house usually in the afternoon of the midweek. Nina offered me a coffee and sometimes even invited me to dinner.

Nina was an attractive woman and was hard to take my eyes off of her boobs. She had a formidable pair, shaped, valued by the blouse and tops she wore.

"We're moving." She said when offered me coffee and a piece of cake before I say goodbye. "I got a better job in Toledo, and I must leave Lima by the end of next week."

"Congratulations." I smiled politely. I took another sip of my coffee and inadvertently lowered my eyes again to her boobs. Nina noticed and put her hand covering the tiny valley between them. I looked away, to the refrigerator, as if the pictures I've already known become interesting. "Too bad I will lose a nice customer... I will miss Owen... and you."

"I still need help to pack my things. Do you want to earn a little extra money to help me pack and clean the house?" She slowly took the hand of her boobs, sliding the fingertips on one breast, as if she was trying to seduce me. Was that how Puck had sex with some housewives?

"Sure. When?"

"On Sunday?"

"I will be here."

In three days I would be back to the James almost ex-house. I worked hard to earn my dollars packing stuffs and helping to clean up the little house so she could give back the keys to the owners. Almost everything was prepared to put in the truck and go.

"Would you like a beer?" She asked.

"No thanks."

"Don't you like or have another reason?"

"Beer is not my favorite drink."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Juice?"

She served me a juice and sat beside me on the floor. And we talked more. It was interesting to talk about certain things to an older woman who isn't my mother or Ms. Pillsbury. Nina was an engineer, single mother, lives alone since she was 18.

"You will see. College is a time of definitions. No wonder that many girls experiences. And some continue to experience for a longer time."

"Have you ever dated women?"

"I'd dated one for three months and I had one night stands with some. But, overall, I dated guys."

"How... how was to be with a girl?"

"Different. The touch is different" She drank the beer. "It's easier to be with men. It's more practical. But sex with girls can be a piece of art."

"Really?"

"Have you ever kissed a girl, Quinn?" I waved negative. "Do you like any girl?"

"There are two girls at school. They are best friends with benefits and seem to be very happy. I wouldn't try to be with them, but there is another girl... the one who I can only imagine."

"Platonic love? That's romantic."

"But not very practical. I have a boyfriend and she is in love with a guy."

"Do you like your boyfriend?"

"He's nice." Nina looked at my very skeptical so I elaborate better. "This girl I like is the only one. I know I can't have her but I also know how terrible is to be alone in high school. Sam is a nice guy, but I don't feel connected…"

"Feel free to not answer, Quinn, but are you feel attraction for other girls? Like physical attraction?"

"Yeah…"

I answered without really thinking. But that was true. I am attracted to the female body, I only watch lesbian porn and I enjoyed looking that Puck's Hustles. But I wouldn't tell it to anybody else in school or, especially, at home. Talking so easily about my sexuality to Nina was unexpected and it didn't make feel self-conscious.

"Have you ever tried other girl?"

"I have this curiosity, but I've never…"

"Would you like to know how is to be with a girl?"

I didn't answer, but it didn't matter when I felt Nina's lips on mine. The touch was amazing. We kissed there on the living room floor between cardboard boxes for a few minutes until Owen appear. Nina put him for a nap. And when the boy fell asleep, my lesson continued in her bedroom.

Not only I touched that desirable bust, but also tasted it. And it was amazing to have those firm nipples in my mouth. Nina taught me how to touch her body, and also showed how light my fire. She was an amazing teacher. When she got down on me, I almost exploded. It didn't take much to have an orgasm. The first I've had with someone else. I explored her with my fingers and let myself be exploited. I had no qualms about going down. I longed for it and imagine how it would be in that same position with Rachel Berry-Lopez.

We knew it was just a moment, that as soon as I left her house, that relation would be over. I was happy with it. And grateful.

I used the bathroom before leaving. I took a quick shower and then found myself in the mirror. There are some defining moments in life. That was one of them. At that mirror in that the Nina James almost ex-house, I saw my sharper image and not felt guilty. I understood everything. I finally understand the genuine connection of my body with another female one. The taste, the curves, the touch, the breasts, the smell: it all made sense.

"I'm gay."

I finally said it to myself.