ANOTHER WORLD
(Rachel)
The first difference between New York and Lima is the gigantism, obviously! One thing is visiting the city as a tourist, another one is living in it. The impact is huge in a metropolis when you know that you will have to live with all the benefits and the problems of it. It's scary. The impression I got was that New York was more noisy and hectic than ever. We reached the town in the middle of the afternoon and we checked in the same hostel Quinn already was in the Bronx. Mike and I tried to spend the first few days as mere tourists, since Santana was solving problems about the rental contract, and Quinn was already working on the Flea. Mike suggested relax a little more, so we did silly programs like walking in Central Park and visiting museums.
Early in the Friday morning, Santana and I left to sign our new home's lease. I wanted to stay in Manhattan, but my sister had irrefutable arguments about the rent's prices. So, we found an three bedrooms and a bathroom apartment for a reasonable price in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. There was a subway closer, which was one of the main reasons to Santana chose that specific real state as our new home. We walked to the nearby street until reach a brown and unattractive building. We rang the intercom and met with our landlady in the apartment on the third floor (no elevator). She was a woman in her 50s, not very well dressed who looks not so much friendly.
"This is my sister, Rachel." Santana introduced us. "She will debut a musical on The Flea, in Tribeca."
"Oh, I love small theaters, they are the most welcoming. If you can, get tickets!" The landlady smiled, revealing protruding canines. It gave me chills.
"Of course!" I said forcing a smile. "It will be a pleasure."
While Santana was dealing with the contractual terms – one year lease, renewable for another year – I explored the property. The bathroom had been recently renovated, and also the kitchen cabinets. According to the landlady, it was the second lease after the improvements, but the previous occupant only stayed for four months. The kitchen was small and connected with the living room. The refrigerator and stove were in good condition but we would need to buy a microwave and other appliances.
The room was small, but enough to set of two-seater couch and a bookcase. We could better organize these two environments over time. The larger bedroom would be occupied by me and Santana. The other two ones were much smaller and narrower, leaving space only to a single bed. The cabinets were built, which was good. I suggested Santana to buy a double bed to divide under the condition of some basic rules like: no sex in our room. She didn't answer.
I returned to the room to see Santana shaking hands with the landlady. The woman said goodbye satisfied, counting the two months of advance rent. Santana shook the keys and we hugged, I gave a peck on her lips and cried. Our moving had become reality.
"We need to make three copies of the key." Santana told me as we toasted sitting on the floor of the room, drinking the water of the bottle we shared. On our side: the folder with the contracts and receipts. I've never figured that walking with this type of document would be a constant for us.
"I'm going to study in the morning and will only start in Weiz Co in a few days, so I can do things in the house while you're out rehearsing."
"Mr Weiz said something about your job?"
"What I have to do is go to the human resources department on the first day and talk to someone called Kate."
"Austen?"
"Please don't remind me!" Santana was a Lost fan and she got dissatisfied with the series finale. Not because it's over, but she still didn't understand anything of what happened.
Quinn sent me a text message. She and Mike were on their way with our suitcases. We decided to wait then on the sidewalk in front of our new home – how strange to say this – to help them with the baggage. What's odd is that most of our stuff was still in Lima. Santana took the opportunity to go to a keychain at the corner of the neighboring block. Meanwhile, Mike and Quinn arrived. Quinn and I went up to the first two bags while Mike got to pay the taxi driver. Quinn left the suitcase in the middle of the room and began to circle the apartment with a curious expression: a mixture of wonder and enchantment. I couldn't read her features properly.
"Something is wrong?"
"On the contrary, it's actually much more than I thought." She looked at me and took my hand. "To you it is just an opportunity that if it doesn't work, you can go back to your father. To me, it represents everything. I was ordered to stay in Lima... and suddenly... it's like I had another chance in life, thanks to you! And Santana... but don't let her know I said that."
"So, which room will get?" I asked after kissing my girl.
"The same as yours?"
"Not that I don't want to, but... mission impossible!"
Quinn was going to comment on something when Mike came in with the bags with Santana. We had so much to do before unpacking: clean the house, buy some stuffs, and food. But first, Santana gave the keys for each one of us before we descend to a cheap nearby restaurant and toast our first lunch as official residents of New York City. Quinn, with her now inseparable camera, recorded the moment.
…
I thought theater rehearsals were relaxed. What a mistake. Quinn, Mike and I met with the cast in Flea's north room, where our musical would be mounted. The director James Golvi (bad-tempered beard man) said absolutely nothing when we reached 10 minutes earlier, but he gave a scary scolding in Mary Stein, one of the actresses, for arriving five minutes beyond schedule. At the meeting were also the writer Mark Millar, producer Roger Benz, stage director Lisa Brumm, costume designer and set designer Brian Mortinson, choreographer and voice coach Eric Grove, the assistant Gabriela Montenegro, the "slave" Quinn Fabray, in addition to light and sound technicians. Quinn worked with any of these people: she would be where she was needed to do: load scenario, serve as counter-rule, buying things on the street.
"We gonna work with a tight schedule." Roger explained with James standing next to him. "I know it takes at least three months to do the rehearsals, but we are experiencing a different situation and we are a mouth and a half from the great opening, so our rehearsals will be full-time." The most experienced staff complained. "We will increase earnings to compensate." And there was celebration. Extra money made difference in our situation.
"It will be a hell, I'm warning you." James continued. "Even with the tight schedule, I demand perfection. The lecture table is today and we will leave here with the schedule of rehearsals of scenes and choreography done. So tonight you've got to start decorating lines. Any questions?" No one spoke. "Great. Hell is here, but I guarantee that will be compensations!"
Gabriela took the scripts and distributed to each of us with the name of the corresponding character. My heart throbbed: I was finally doing a musical with a professional team, even if the cast was still an amateur and fresh. Mike frowned when the director told him to stay in a specific chair. He won the part that would make the connection between the stories of the other five characters. Lisa started reading. James and Roger were not kidding: the first reading table was quiet but the more the rate increased, the more discussions were frantic. Mark Millar modified details on time and we had to follow all the changes, James discussed the divisions, the acts, and the actors were involved throughout the intensity of events. When I looked at the clock, I startled: it was midnight. That's why we got a cab to go home.
"Santana must be worrying like crazy." I commented Mike and Quinn so we left the Flea.
"I sent her some text messages." Quinn reassured me. "Otherwise, don't you think she would have calling you?"
We were so hungry, but the markets were closed at that time and we had no energy to sit in a bar to eat any crap. Then, we got home and found everything different. There was a chair in the middle of the room. The small kitchen counter had a bag of bread, cereal box and bananas on a small basket fruit. In the fridge: gallon of milk, juice and water, some vegetables, jam, butter, cheese and ham. In the freezer, a few packages of frozen food. Over the sink was a trash bin and plastic bags with biscuits, pasta, cans of tuna, corn, soup, tea sachets, a new pan, some plastic containers, and a package with six glass plates, cups and cutlery plus the same amount. On the kitchen floor: bags with cleaning products and toiletries, plus a basket for laundry day. I think Santana got so tired that she didn't arrange such products in the closet.
While Mike and Quinn attacked the food, I walked into the room I shared with my sister. I was surprised to find two brand new single mattresses. Well, then I knew she hadn't had accept my suggestion to have a queen size bad. I shared with Santana for a weekend, a hell of a bumpy single mattress that Johnny got to us to supply an emergency situation. It was leaning now against the wall next to plastics. Our new ones were lined with sheets, pillow covers and stowed. On top of one of them, my sister was asleep facing the computer screen already blackened.
"Ray?" She turned to me with a voice hoarse from sleep. "What time is it?"
"It's late. Go back to sleep."
"Okay…"
I fixed her covers, closed the computer and gave her a goodnight kiss on the head. It was an act of love and gratitude for all she was doing. But, suddenly, my stomach growled loudly. What a way to end a lovely scene.
…
I was tired for death. I just wanted to spend the morning sleeping, but the noise of the jackhammer working on the other side of the street was taking my cool and there weren't enough pillows to stop the continuous tatatata noise. The smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen invaded my senses. I forced myself to get up off the mattress. Two weeks in New York City and I wasn't anymore that peppy Rachel Berry-Lopez who woke up at six in the morning to exercise.
"Good morning." I said quickly to other mates before entering the bathroom like a zombie.
Mike was making pancakes and my mouth watered. It was a shock when we discovered that not only he was able to cook fairly well, but also he had the ability to leave the basic and make a sophisticated meal. Santana was stunned when he prepared salad another day. Quinn and my sister whispered while chewing the delicacy. They were sitting at our new/old second hand round table. The furniture appeared on Thursday and made me think that Santana was visiting New York garbage dump after school. We had four chairs to sit, for example, with four different models. She kept saying that she walked in Brooklyn every day looking for cheap furniture. So, everytime we came home, we had to cleaned, tightened the screws, glued something. That's ok. At least my sister was doing everything she could to improve our home without spent so much money. Of course, with time and money, I was planning to replace some of the furniture with a better one.
Grumbling, I took a gallon of orange juice and the jam to eat with my bread.
"You won't drop this rabbit food to taste this delicious?" Quinn, the bacon's devouring, said with her mouth full.
"I'm great!"
Throughout the week, a few things were discussed about the division of labor and supermarket. We had no time to do anything during the week, so we would have to clean our home on the weekends. Quinn and I would do the cleaning and the laundry. Mike took care of the kitchen and Santana… well, she just had to sleep and study. Fair enough. My sister bought new mattresses, our beds, the microwave, filled our pantry, purchased for new kitchen things, and on and on. You could tell that the 17 years old ex-cheerio was giving a darn hard to make that place a real home.
"Imagine if we started spending our time in cafes, as in 'Friends'?" I smiled as I remembered daddy, who was fan of the show.
"No. I'd kill myself if I saw you and Quinn acting like Ross and Rachel, or Mike as Chandler making a boring marriage with Tina!" Mike looked extremely offended by Santana, who didn't care at all. "Then I prefer to spend my free time with my friends in a bar, as in 'How I Met Your Mother'. Barney Stinson is my idol... oh no." Everyone looked curious to my sister's dramatic arrest. "I just realized that Quinn and Rachel may be the most perfect embodiment of Marshall and Lily. What a pain in the ass."
"As long as I don't panic and scrape my hair on our wedding day!" Quinn smiled and stood with her mind far away.
"As long as your first time aren't in my room in the best Ted Mosby style." I spit my juice, it still came out through my nose. "But of course, I'm not like Ted Mosby and I would certainly kill Quinn before she had chance to deflower you before my eyes or ears!"
"Could you please stop discussion my sex life?" I complained. Santana sometimes exaggerated on these ramblings.
"Rachel, you don't have sex life!"
"If you think so..." Quinn said quietly, turning away, but I was still could hear.
It wasn't that we had done something truly sexual, but Quinn was the person who quickly came to "second base" without asking formal permission and with more passion, I might add. Apparently, seeing me rehearsing the scenes turn Quinn on, and at the first opportunity, she drags me to the Flea's basement. It was the most peaceful place we had. We were still working on a way to make out with more ease. The Flea would never be ideal and, at home, Santana didn't facilitate our life, even in Quinn's room. Not that she cares that much about my virginity. This has to do with how she lost hers and she would hate if the history repeats with me.
When I was thinking about having sex with Jesse some time ago, Santana confessed in particular that her first time was with Andy Mastrantonio, a senior in that time, and it was awful. It was consensual, she guarantee, but the way it happened was very painful. I remember she cried for a week. I understand that my sister didn't want the same to happen to me, but sometimes she exaggerated. Quinn and I were dating a little over a month and my girl made me feel things, want to try things, but some of my beliefs were still standing. I talked to Quinn and she always reaffirmed that she would wait as long as it took. I just didn't want to lose my virginity during a make out session in the Flea's basement.
Quinn, personally, had a week of small achievements and I wasn't speaking about the "second base." The other day, while she was putting crepes ribbons on stage for our scenes, Roger, our producer, inspected her camera and he got impressed with what he saw. He had to close the art the posters and folders quickly but hated the ones proposed by the publicity agency. Quinn's photos were perfect for what he wanted, so he bought them all: $50 per individual and $100 for one that Mike and I were dancing in the streets. It was taken on our first weekend in the city, next to the hostel. We celebrate it with pizza: the four of us. I won't forget the proud on Quinn's face that day. And my photo with Mike became the official poster.
Mike was increasingly confident and I noticed that he was getting more and more comfortable on the stage. James said he was a mediocre singer, but Mike was a fabulous dancer and promising actor. My sixth sense said that, in the end, my friend would be called for other professional productions soon. He talked to Tina every day by texting or by skype, and he said she was coming to town, but that would be a bad idea. We were too busy working, and there were some kissing scenes. I don't know how Tina would react seeing her boyfriend kissing an actress, five, six times in a row. And Mike got closer and closer with Angela Sobbs, one of the understudies.
"What are we doing today?" Mike asked casually while Quinn was cleaning the dishes.
"I was thinking to go to Prospect Park. It must be nice walking there." Quinn mused.
"No way! Today we have that Catholic church bazaar." Santana showed us pamphlets of bazaars and garages sales. She was obsessed.
We made a list of furniture priorities. Santana had already bought our beds at GoodWill Store. Now we need: a sofa, a bookcase, and if some money left over, a TV.
We went walking on our way to church, which wasn't far. But halfway there, we saw a couple who had just put a couch in front of their house. Mike ran up to them to ask what they would do with it. They said they had bought a new one and were taking action to get rid of the old. Mike offered $30 and they sold it to us.
"It is comfortable. Somebody could sleep on it." Mike sat on the couch.
"It's horrible! Looks like it was made from the same fabric of Rachel's skirts!" Santana protested with her usual rudeness.
"But it's comfortable!" Mike insisted.
"Rachel could camouflage on this thing! Imagine we sit down to watch TV and all of a sudden being bitten by a hobbit?"
"Shut up, Satan!" Quinn defended me. "These placements against Rachel have reached the limit daily quota. That's enough."
"Who do you think you are?" My sister shouted.
"Her girlfriend!"
This discussion was long. Quinn and Santana were pushed each other in the street, and I was desperate in the middle of the two while Mike lay on the couch to watch it. Finally, after the nerves calmed down, we decided to stay with the three places couch that barely fit in our room, but it was comfortable enough to take a nap on it. Mike and I held one side, Quinn and Santana held the other one, and we loaded it in the streets of Brooklyn. What an anthological scene. I couldn't see what was in front of me and stumbled my foot twice, and we still had to endure the jeers and whistles that people were sending us. Plus: that day was hot as hell. The worst part was climbing three floors with that couch. It took half an hour!
"I'll never do it again." I collapsed on the floor when we finally put the couch inside the apartment.
"I just wanna die." Quinn collapsed beside me.
"At least I could die on the couch!" And Mike collapsed right there.
"Does anybody want to go to the bazaar?" Santana wanted to look lively, but I knew she was dragging. She heard a collative "hell no" as Mercedes would say.
We stayed at home.
…
Every morning was a rush. First we disputed the bathroom. It wasn't unusual to have two people vying for the sink to brush the teeth or in the mirror to comb the hair. The knocks on the door, the cursing, all of it was routine. Santana always claimed priority because she was the one who needed to leave early. It was strange to see my sister leave the house on jeans and a far less sexy outfit she normally would wear. It doesn't mean she was less beautiful: her hair was always neat, and her light makeup was always on. She put her computer in the backpack and got out in search credits that would allow her to graduate in the regular school year. After the school, she ate something before work in Weiz Co. Santana could get another job with better salary, but this was the agreement. In addition, she received $500 from zaide's allowance.
Mike and I used to rush out to the Flea. Not always Quinn's way was straight to the theater. As a "slave", sometimes she had to go pick up folders, pamphlets and whatever else was asked. Almost every day, she had to get Starbucks coffee for the staff, buy bottled water for the cast, carry scenario, be a secretary, take pictures (and she liked it because it yielded some extras). And in her spare time, she makes out with me in the basement until the phone rang or someone yelled for her, which had become routine.
Mike and I learned the art of sitting in chairs and waiting, or standing on the stage to repeated a line a million times, a move a million times, an expression, intonation, a dance step... all gazillion times. There were moments we laughed because someone faltered somehow and no one could control itself, not even James. In such cases, all ended well. Other times, we argued so bad that we needed to take a little break.
We usually came home between eight and nine o'clock and met Santana already showered and fed. Sometimes she was lying on the couch reading any book. Sometimes I was sitting at the table doing schoolwork. We didn't have time to the internet as before, so Santana worked as a news lady: "Beth has one more tooth"; "Our father officially entered the midlife crisis when he bought a Porsche", "Shelby received new proposal to direct The Vocal Adrenaline again, they are desperate"; "Puck now works at a store"; "Finn and Kurt are going to Disney"; "Mercedes is in New Orleans for a spiritual trip, as she said, and must come to New York for Quinn's birthday"; "Schuester is dating Mrs. Pillsbury", "Artie is dating a girl called Sugar Motta"; "Britt moved to Los Angeles permanently."
Yeah, the world keeps moving.
Tina was the first friend from Lima to visit us because of Mike. She arrived on Thursday and that was weird. Mike and Angela were very close friends at that time: friends that made out at least once. On Sunday afternoon, Tina and Mike locked in his room to have an argument. Santana and I thought it was better to give them space by spinning around the town and enjoy the sunny afternoon. My girlfriend, by the way, was out making a freelancer photography job to Mr. Weiz's friend.
"Do you think they'll be okay?" I asked Santana as we drank a Coke while walking unconcerned in the Brooklyn streets.
"I don't think so. The distance between them increased a lot and I'm not talking about the geographical one. Mike met himself here and Tina is still a girl from Lima who will stay in Lima for one more year."
"But we're also from Lima."
"Yes, and we always will be. But we're no longer belonging to that city. Or would you honestly live there again after what you tried here? Do you think you can go back to being what you were after spending a month in New York living by your own sweat and everything?
"You're right. I wouldn't be the same."
After a moment thinking about what Santana was saying, I looked at my sister. She lost some weight and was kinda blue.
"You're lonely these days." I said on our way home "It's strange to see you with anyone."
"I confess that I am enjoying this lonely and quiet phase... for now."
"Have you talked to Brittany?"
"Not much."
"Why?"
"I'm still trying to get over my feelings for her and move on."
"Don't you even think of anyone? From school maybe?"
"Eww, no!" She put her arm on my shoulder as we go walking. "Don't worry, Ray: by the time I hit my eye on someone really interesting, I will go back to the game." After a while in silence, Santana asked. "And you and Quinn?"
"What about us?"
"I saw you going to her room the other day. Rachel, are you having sex…"
"No! I mean... not yet. I'm not ready to go all the way."
"I know it's irrational, but I like the idea you still be a virgin."
"Santana!"
"You're my little sister and cut my heart to know that you've been deflowered by someone who I just tolerate."
"I'm only 29 minutes younger."
"But I'm responsible for you until December."
"Santana... I know that your first time wasn't good. But while you were with Noah and Brittany... how did you know they were right for you?"
"When I slept with Puck for the first time, I was half drunk, but I liked that cock."
"Santana!"
"Don't you want to talk about sex? You must be prepared to hear these words. cock, balls, vagina, boobs, clitoris and everything else."
"I think you can have a conversation without being so graphic."
"All right. Anyway, despite my first time was a huge mistake, and my night with Finn was the second worst of my life, I like cocks. But I needed to have the balls to try it again with Puck to figure some stuffs about sex and about myself. I can't tell if sex with a woman is better or easier in the physical way because I only had Brittany and we have this crazy connection since we were seven. She was the only one I had sex with that I truly loved, then of course it's better and more emotional with her. I think it's a matter of trying and figure out."
"I don't think I would do that without love, Santy."
"Are you sure Quinn is the right person? I don't want to be demagogue here, Ray, but the first time is important. It doesn't mean you have to choose somebody you will spend the rest of your life with, but it should be with someone you truly care about. I chose badly and I don't want you making the same mistake."
"I still have my doubts that I need to solve in my head, but I'm pretty sure that in the near future Quinn and I will... share a special moment."
"Okay... I don't like the idea, but I accept your choice." And raised her finger in warning. "And don't rise your hopes up, midget: I won't stop being a bitch to her."
We found Tina in the lobby of our building. She was waiting for the cab with swollen red eyes. It didn't need much to understand that she and Mike broke up. So, we hugged her and stayed with her until transport arrives. Santana, wisely, went with Tina until the train station. Mike was in his room with the door closed when I got in home. I respect his space the space and time. And when he allowed, all I did was support my friend without being judgmental. I knew better than anyone that it wasn't easy to give up a long relationship even when there is already someone else in the picture.