Columbia
(Santana)
"So this is our new economic scenario."
The renewal of our lease for one more year increased 5% in value of the rent, which wouldn't be too heavy divided by four. Rachel and Mike earned a decent amount for development work as professional actors. Rachel was in the Across The Universe's adaptation on Broadway, while Mike continued in Songbook and he had also recently signed a contract for a series of advertisements for a pizzeria network. Quinn continued with her normal part-time job for R&J, and the little increase wouldn't affect her pocket that much.
The difference was on my part: I quit my job in Weiz to devote myself entirely to Columbia. Studying at Stuyvesant and working as an intern was hell. Imagine studying in Columbia? So, I had to prioritize something and this would be my university education. Zaide wouldn't give me more allowance to help on my expenses in New York after he began to pay my college. Fair enough. My dad would pay for Rachel's, although I don't see much the point in studying musical theatre in the day and in the night work as a professional actress on Broadway. I thought it was kind of redundant. If she was studying things like writing or production, I would find relevant.
With Zaide paying my college and without a job, it meant that I would finally stir in inheritance money from my daddy to pay my bills. I made some safe applications, which yielded something, but not so much. Anyway, the amount would be enough for me to fulfill my part to the end of my studies since I had my savings.
"I still think you shouldn't get the inheritance money. We spent a year without touching it, except to pay that loan to Mr. Weiz." Rachel questioned. We were alone in our room while I showed her our spreadsheet of income and expenses.
"Daddy would want me to use that money responsibly and fairly. Well, Ray, paying my part of the rent and the costs of the house is responsible and fair. Moreover, the investment I made had a good yield. Now I have enough to keep me out of work until the end of college."
"But I earn a good salary now."
"And you deserved that."
"I can help you. And I won't even need to touch my inheritance money for it."
"That's beautiful, and I am moved, Ray. But I can't accept your offer."
"Why not? By the time you earned more in this house, you didn't hesitate to pay things for me. You practically paid yours and mine part of the rent and bills for months. I didn't have to work while I was in high school because of you."
"But I had that Zaide's allowance to help."
"And your salary. I think it's time for me to give back."
"I have my money and I will use it." I insisted. "The only thing I ask is to you understand that I won't buy things to home as before."
"All right, you pay your part of the rent. But that's it, Santy."
"Ray…"
"I don't want to argue. It's decided. Now it's my turn. You said that someone in the family had to make money, right? Well, consider this as my investment on you. I'll be a famous actress and you go to college to learn to manage my money. If you've done a great job so far, imagine when you become a specialist? Zaide believes in you. Papi believes in you. I also believe in you. It's the least I could do."
"Okay... I guess..." I had to confess that was a relief. If I had to pay only for my part of the rent, and my personal expenses such as transportation and things in Columbia, I would be able to do some more savings.
"But there's one thing I'll ask of you."
"I'm afraid to know what is it."
"I wish you get along more with Quinn."
"But I do! By chance, I scolded her these past months? Not once!"
"Truth, on the other hand, you weren't very friendly either. I know you don't trust Quinn because of things that happened at McKinley High. But isn't time to leave it behind?"
"I don't know. It's not something you just say, and it's done like magic."
"See my example: she tormented me in school, and look where we are now."
"Yeah, but she tormented you because she loved you and was too afraid to accept it. Our issues are far different. Still, I like Quinn and I know she has changed for the better. But I need more time to solve such of things."
"You shouldn't be so bitter, Santy."
"I'm not bitter! Or… maybe a little... But I have my pride, ok?"
"Fine. Do whatever you want." Rachel made a pause as if she was remanding something. "There's one more thing I would like to require."
"What is it?"
"Reverse the hierarchy."
Rachel called me bitter because I didn't trust Quinn, but apparently she carried it over the years. Hierarchy was concept used by me when we were kids. I used to say my 29 minutes give me a position above her and, therefore, I was the one in charge. Being taller and physically stronger than her also helped on it. Rachel took it seriously and often subjected to my antics. I used to say she was my side-kick because it was what determined our hierarchical plan. Of course Rachel didn't accept all my "orders" as a little lamb. Far from it. There were many times that we had arguments that ended in punches, scratches and jerks. I was stubborn. She was stubborn. But I always had advantage over my sister. I used to say she would only be in charge if she, somehow, reverse the hierarchy, a term I coined at the time. Of course we grew up, became teenagers, and it was forgotten, hence my surprise at Rachel had brought this up. Reverse the hierarchy? Nonsense! It was as if the little Rachel was taking revenge somehow.
"Rachel... this is... reverse the hierarchy? Really? I might be bitter, but little sis, you are the one rehashing this nonsense over the years."
"You were in charge all the time. But now that you will be solely dedicated to college and I will be out working to earn our bread, that means I'll be in charge."
"That's really stupid and kind of sexist. Not to mention completely dumb and childish!"
"Say that the hierarchy is reversed!"
"No way! My 29 minutes advantage are sacred. It's not my fault God made me to be born first."
"You broke your water. According to Shelby, I was quiet inside and the doctor induced my birth because of you. You own me since the womb."
"See? I could be older by days!"
"Reverse the hierarchy!" She repeated with more emphasis. She wouldn't change her mind.
"Ok, you won! The hierarchy was reversed. Now you are the boss of me. Happy?" I'd regret it.
Rachel clapped and gave me an affectionate kiss on my cheek.
"I'm now the boss and you my side-kick! I knew this would happen one day!" She celebrated as a child, dancing and making faces.
It was official: I was screwed.
…
College was a journey that could become lonely if you didn't deal with adversity. The volume of work and projects was huge and I felt that the teachers had no idea that people had a life outside the classroom. That didn't help making friends. Many circles of friendship began in the dorms and I wasn't in one. Some classmates looked far to chords before establishing the cycle of relationships. Columbia's social-economic world was divided between poor and rich students and the ones floating between two parts. I was in the third case. In Economics 101, I looked to my right in the auditorium classroom and saw the elite group.
Brandon Stoles: blonde, perfect skin, tall (but not ridiculously tall as Finn), charming and he thought he could fuck all the girls on campus. His household assets were valued at several hundred millions outside the money which circulated in the cosmetic companies. The liquid soap that I liked to use came from his father's factories. Joss Faour: white skin, black hair. Neither his pimples nor braces could keep girls away from him and his millions in property. Anita Laurence: unsalted brunette and sole heir of a network of farms and special products for horses and pets. Her father was an Olympic equestrian champion. She gave to all the guys that the "friendships" cycle. I spoke of Fatin Muntasir? His father was an oil tycoon in the UAE. There were some other bastards who walked with them, sons and daughters of lawyers, bankers and politicians.
And there was the other side. The guys who had scholarships. Andrew Mascarenhas: son of a Brazilian father and American mother. He wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg, but for now, he needed to work in the cafeteria and as a waiter at suckers' parties to pay the dorm and eat something. I suspected that Izabella Richards was a stripper. She was a beautiful, breathtaking, and very intelligent girl. Lucy Watson was an asexual being from Iowa. Brian Goth was a football player. Finally, Matt Porter: a charming little genius, gangsta, political idealist, but without a penny in his pocket.
Santana Berry-Lopez? The only material belongs I had was 42 thousand bucks in my bank account and a third of a comfortable well-evaluated house in the prime area of deadpan Lima, Ohio. Zaide's company was valued at some millions (and it operated in Green), the house in Cleveland was worth 1.5 million. He had about 3 million more in other smaller properties, and a little more in other investments. It's what Rachel and I will inherit someday. I was a millionaire in theory, but I hadn't had a penny in my pocket and was still partially supported by my newbie Broadway actress's sister. My family profits did not impress the rich group. Believe me, they were able to talk about zaide's financial history before pronouncing my name. Bunch of idiots. That's why I started to walk over to players, strippers, nerdy, asexual beings, and smart guys who want to succeed in life at any cost. I wonder why I always ended in the company of losers.
"Lopez!" When I looked to the side to see who was saying my name as the teacher lectured, a paper flew into my head. It was a comment from Matt asking if I would go to the pub at night. I grabbed my phone, typed his number and sent him a text with the negative response. I was swamped with things to do at home. It was day to pay bills, separate laundry and had two essays to deliver. And what kind of people still spent piece of paper with a message?
"Come on Lopez? Let's have a beer!" He reached me off the class. Matt's smile was perfect, but it didn't move me.
"I don't have time. Too much work to do." The bank would close in half an hour. I needed to run.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Paying bills that I can't do in the internet." God, Matt should take a hint occasionally.
"And then?"
"Matt, let's do this: I'm going out with you tomorrow to eat something, ok?"
He was satisfied. I knew Matt wanted me and he was kind of nice. But I wasn't so sure if it would be healthy dating an ambitious guy.
I arrived at the bank almost at the limit of time. I paid the rent, the condo, the ridiculous bills cards with equally ridiculous limits. After that, I took the subway, went home and, surprisingly, didn't have my keys. I made an effort to remember where I might have overlooked: in the morning, during that routine confusion, I forgot my keys on the table. And I was the first to leave.
It was so frustrating! I never knew where Quinn could be with the wacky job she had. That afternoon, she was doing some shopping for the R&J in New Jersey. She was no use. Mike was in Long Island shooting a commercial. I could only count on Rachel. I was starving, wanting to go to the bathroom and with cents in my pocket unable to have something the ATM because it was out of service. I walked into the theater. At the entrance, I called my sister. She didn't answer the cell phone. Then, the security barred me.
"You can't get in without your badge, girl!" That wasn't my day. I must have salted the Last Supper!
"I am Rachel Berry-Lopez's sister, she is rehearsing for 'Across The Universe' in there. I can prove you…"
It was the second time I went to that theater. I waited about five minutes, with a heavy backpack, starving and willing to go to the bathroom. What a drama! The security allowed me to get in and the first thing I did was run to solve my physiological problem. Then, already relieved, I entered the correct room to I found Rachel, her costars and the dancers receiving instructions from assistant director. I had to wait. And the worst was the hunger that would not let me concentrate to advance a line of my essays. Also I had no more strength to walk. Without more, I cringed in the seat and dozed.
"Santana?" Rachel shook me. Two of her castmates were close, watching the scene from real life. "What happened?"
"I forgot the keys..." I replied grumpy. "I'm dizzy with hunger and have a lot of stuff to do at home and for the college."
"Didn't you pay the bills today?" I nodded. "No change?"
"Not enough to pay a Big Mac! I paid my credit card bill today and I need to wait 24 hours before I was able to use it again because I hit its limit." It had a low limit by my choice. It's perfect to control better my money. "And I couldn't catch money from the ATM before you ask me, because it didn't hit me when I was at Columbia or in the bank. The ATM near our home was out of service and I don't know if there is another one nearby because I forgot to recharge my cell, so, no internet. See?" I showed it to my sister. "The battery is dead!" I wanted to cry. How pathetic I was that time.
"What a day!" Rachel's castmate, Lucas Hibbs, I believe it's his name, was listening our private conversation. My sister smiled to him.
"Can you wait for ten more minutes?"
"Do I have any choose?"
"Not really."
Rachel talked to the assistant director and took some notes. I didn't know what it was about. Then, we finally left. We went to a diner down the block and Rachel paid me a cheese burger and an orange juice: the best ones I've ever tried. She had only a piece of apple pie. It wasn't an easy situation for me and it did great harm to my pride. The way I see things, I should take care of Rachel, and pay for lunches at school, as I did last year. While I was eating my burger, the penny dropped: the reversed hierarchy was for real. At the exit of the cafeteria, Rachel called a cab. She said I was too tired and so was she, and we deserved a little more comfort.
I got home and saw my keys on the table with pile of my books. They were there only to remember the amount of work I should do. There was a pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen from the day before. I was like crying: the dishes were my responsibility.
"The dishes are mine today!" Rachel slightly massaged my shoulders. "Don't use all the hot water, okay?"
I showered, lay down on my bed and blacked out. Life was hard.
…
After a dramatic Friday at Columbia in order to deliver an essay, I wasn't willing to go out. I just wanted to sit on the couch and watch a movie. Preferably a boring one so I could sleep in the middle of it. A pity that my phone rang so many times. And most of them were Matt. He insisted so much that I decided to go out to his party. After all, in his words, my college life would only make sense with a little celebration and free love. I took the subway to Manhattan and got to the Matt's apartment near nine o'clock.
All my college's closest friends were around and more others who I knew by sight. It was playing "I Can See Clearly Now" by UB 40, which I considered more attractive than that Jimmy Cliff's version. Some people danced in the middle of the room, there was a brass beer with ice. I greeted my friends and then Andrew offered me a can of beer. I didn't hesitate to accept. The beer was ice-cold, a delight that went down well. I was leaning in a corner watching the party who took care of the floor runners. Most of the apartments were occupied by college students from various courses and years, so, the noise was ok for that night.
"And our little princess has arrived!" Matt celebrated lifting a beer. He was dancing very close with another girl and I can't say how well the girl felt to see the guy who she was so enthusiastically greet another girl.
"Not going to dance?" Andrew asked and I still wasn't in the mood, I continued with the beer, so. "I thought you loved it. I saw you at that party" He meant the one at first week of classes.
It was a reception for freshmen where I met all my new friends and we become a kind of a gang since then.
"Of course I love to dance. But not now!" I tasted a little more my beer and then turned to Izabella. "I thought you were working today."
"Not today!"
"Friday isn't a good day to get extra money?" At least it was the legend that ran about the strippers.
"It's not like that." She began to explain as a powerful bitch that won't allow other to despise her. "Strippers earned a percentage of the gathering on stage and in some houses it independent of the day of the week. If you do a lap dance, you earn a bit more." I took a long sip of my beer because the way she was looking at me. "Some girls do programs on their own and used the stage to get customers in the nightclubs, although it is not allowed by the owners of the nice houses. It isn't fine to mix things. Or you are a slut or a stripper. And I guarantee you, my lady, I'm not a slut even though I could make all guys in this party and half of the girls with their pants ruined."
"Still, aren't you leaving money?"
"It won't be missed, you bet!" Then she smiled maliciously. "Are you the kind of girl that would make the greatest success in the pole, and you are always complaining that you don't have money... why not trying?"
"No, thank you!" I finished my first beer.
"Do you think you're better?" Izabella sneered.
"No… It's not like that. It's just…"
Not that I had any bias, but doing this kind of job would be one of the last options to get money. Also, I would never give the taste. Rachel saying I would be in pole years ago still sounded in my mind. It was a rare public discussion on she who won, and immediately in front of the whole Glee Club. Rachel's words didn't tell the truth, but they had a purpose to discredit me. After that day, even after she apologized at home, I vowed never to touch a pole.
"The hottest girls in the party stopped in a corner?" Matt appeared again, this time without the girl's company. He pulled me and also Izabella. "It's not fair and the hottest girls weren't dancing." He pulled us to the dance floor.
At that time was playing "Sunshine Reggae" and I began to move easily around Matt and Izabella. We danced two songs in a row before taking a break to drink another beer. Matt sat on a bench and rolled a joint. He lit and smoked it. Then he offered me. I had tried pot once during the Reading Festival in England. It was an interesting experience, but I was reluctant to go again because of Daddy and the stories he told of how he smoked too mush. He almost lost a year in the college because of this and he also almost lost papi, who always hated potheads.
"Never tried?" Matt smiled loose. The scene was observed by my other friends.
"Yes... but it's been a while."
"Time to try again."
I hesitated, but I saw that all my friends were watching me. Maybe down again wouldn't make me a pothead. It was just a party and I was among friends, right? I took the joint and smoked. I coughed and won back-slapping. I took a sip of beer before trying again. I was better in my second attempt and Matt celebrated. The weed circulated among my friends. The music helped, as well as the beers. I laughed under the effect of the weed, I danced, and I drank.
The weed and the alcohol boggled my head, but there was a moment when Izabella seemed to want to seduce me. She made me to sit on a plastic chair and started moving against my lap. I tried to move my hand on her ass, but Izabella turned aggressively.
"Rule number 1: can't touch." She said provocative and I swear that Andrew ruined his pants just by looking.
Izabella continued to do the lap dance and it left me with fire in my eyes. A beautiful woman like that, curvaceous body and large breasts rubbing all that stuff could kill anyone. When she finished, she was laughing as I felt my face burn. She was used to that. It wasn't big deal to her. But it was for me. I was so in fire that I wanted to grab Izabella in front of everyone. Well, she took the initiative since I couldn't move. She sat on my lap and kissed me.
I was so horny and needed to get it off somehow. Izabella lived in the same building, two floors above. We went upstairs kissing like crazy. She opened the door with some difficulty because I didn't leave her neck. We practically ran down the door and she kicked it. I unbuttoned her pants while she lifted my dress. I put my hand on her sex. She was so wet, ready for action. I felt Bella's hands working on my clit. I didn't need much stimulation. I was so wet and ready. A finger penetrated me to confirm it and I rolled my eyes. I felt another finger getting in and then out. In, out, in, out. I was so high and so horny.
Izabella fucked me against the door before she guided me to her bed.
It was great. She was awesome.
…
(Quinn)
Rachel walked from one side to another, just wasn't able to sleep, and it wasn't my fault. My girlfriend was trying to summon the National Guard, firefighters and the New York Police Department because of Santana. The four of us never fail to warn our steps. Not that it was a pre-established obligation, but in a city like New York, it didn't hurt to call and say: "I won't sleep at home," for example. A lot of things happen in New York, the best and the worst ones. The other day, I read in the news a story about a 16 year old girl who was raped by two guys near the Central Park. These things happen every day and we couldn't afford to think that this kind of tragedy would never hit on our doorstep. Unfortunately, shit happens. That's why we called each other or leave a text message: to avoid unnecessary worries.
Santana said she was going to a party near the Columbia campus, but she said nothing about sleep in someone's home or going back home. We would be cool if she had answered any of the messages we send. Nothing. I had my differences with Santana, but I did care about her. Mike was also tense. He wanted go in this party to find Santana, but I dismissed it immediately. It would be ridiculous for her and for us. So he suggested to call Johnny to go there to check on things. It would be ridiculous in the same way. Mike crossed his arms and I also couldn't sleep.
"What time is it?" I've never seen Rachel so worried.
"Almost eight." Mike answered
"Maybe we should call the police."
"Rachel" I held her both arms and tried to transmit confidence. "Just wait a little more. Maybe her cell's battery is dead again. Isn't she said she would have to buy another one?"
"Maybe... I should send another message..." She wiped a tear and ran to the table. I didn't know whether to be angry with Santana or feel sorry for Rachel.
"Just tell me you're alive." - Ray
She texted and placed the cell phone on the table. Then she hugged me. Two minutes later, we heard the message ring.
"In the subway. Get in 15" - Santy
Rachel nearly had a nervous breakdown when she read the message. Santana was alive and well, by the way. The cell rang again.
"Sorry not warn. My bad." – Santy
Rachel sat in the chair and began to cry with relief. We all relaxed. Mike sat on the couch and breath. Then he got up to fix our breakfast. I tried to stretch my own neck, and I was surprised with my pops caused by tension. The muscles of my shoulders were burning. But irresponsible Santana was fine and in her way home. That was the most important.
Rachel went to the bathroom to wash her face as I stood idly walking around our little living room. Now that I was relieved, I was getting angry, so angry that I imagined slapping Santana as soon as her put her foot in this house.
Everything started in dawn when Rachel woke up from my bed. Having sex on a single bed may have its advantages, but actually sleep on that was another story. It's not that comfortable to share a narrow space with another person. That's why I wasn't annoyed by every time Rachel leaves in the middle of the night to her own room. Of course I would like to share a king size bed in a great bedroom with her and sleep by her side every single night. Maybe soon. Well, she left my room after taking a pos-bliss nap in my arms.
I didn't know how to precise the time, but I woke up with Rachel shaking me. It was four in the morning and Santana wasn't at home. She didn't have left a single text, neither answered Rachel's calls or texts. So, since four in the morning, I was up trying to figure where was Santana.
We heard the sound of the key in the door. Rachel flew there in amazing speed. Santana barely opened the door and she already received a tight hug from her sister.
"Never. Do. This. To. Me. Again." And then Rachel hugged her again.
"Sorry." Santana hugged her back. "Actually I didn't plan to sleep out and I forgot to text something warning you guys."
"You should have some consideration for your sister!" I approached with arms crossed and frowning. "Rachel went on almost all night awake thinking of a thousand bad things that could have happened to you."
"At least you're okay!" Mike gave a mealworm on Santana's head.
"I deserve the scolding. It's not going to happen again! My bad!" Rachel finally freed her.
I wasn't so convinced that the lack of notice was a mere oversight. Santana could make innocent to her sister. To me she wasn't mistaken. We attended the same parties in McKinley and I knew what was circulating there. I've never seen her with marijuana, but I saw her drunk enough times and I knew she could try other things. I understood she had a quiet year and now she was studying like hell because of Columbia and maybe she had the right to spill in a party. Not my problem. I was studying Cinema in NYU, I also had a bunch of books to read and schoolwork to do. Plus: I had a part-time job! And I wasn't complaining and giving some excuses to live some college's clichés.
The fact was: Santana was smelling marijuana and I bet she didn't answer the phone because she was too high. The worst was to see Rachel so thankful for her sister being safe in home.
"I can be a repressed as you say, but I know that disgusting smell that is ingrained in you!" I said seriously.
"How nice!" Santana tried to pass me, but I blocked her. "Please Quinn. I said I was sorry. My bad. My, could you get out of my way? I want to take a shower and I have much to do."
"You didn't hear the phone because you were doing drugs." I said without taking my eyes off Santana. "Since when you have this disgusting habit?"
"It's none of your business!"
"Quinn, come on." Rachel tried to pull me back, but things wouldn't be left out so easy.
"The hell it's not my business. God knows what kind of crap a person like you can bring to this house!"
"I didn't know that Russell Fabray was here." Santana crossed her arms and said cynically.
"You have to respect me!" I pointed my finger.
"Next time you'll say that I also have to obey you?" She said with irony. "You know, Fabray, go fuck yourself."
Santana pushed me and that was the drop. I was tired by the sleepless night because of her. She deserved a lecture to not get close to a joint and whatever she tried again, not a tight hug and a smile. I lost my cool and I slapped her. Everyone was in shock, there was a brief silence before I hear a growl. Things happened fast, and next thing I knew, Santana was on the top strangling me. Mike and Rachel took her off me.
"Enough!" Rachel shouted. "I'm tired. God! Enough!" She was still panting when she turned to her sister. "Please, go take a shower or whatever... then we'll talk more calmly..."
Santana nodded and walked to her room staring at me before turning her face.
"Can we talk in private?" Rachel lowered her voice to me.
Although I was still willing to go after Santana to fight back, I agreed. We walked to my room and we sat on my bed in silence for long minutes.
I needed to low the adrenaline a little bit, so I took a deep breath and let the tension go. Rachel did the same.
"Daddy says he smoked marijuana in college." She began. "He said the experience was bad from the moment he set it. He always warned us of the dangers, but never forbid it."
"You knew!" I accused my girl. "You didn't seem surprised." Rachel nodded positive.
"I was there the day she first experienced..."
"What?" I was surprised and disgusted at the same time. "Don't say you..."
"I never smoked, ok?" Rachel anticipated. "I don't like that my sister is messing with this kind of thing, but I understand that may be part of the process, as happened with Dad. She spent a year in this city being too controlled, too preoccupied, maturing more than she should. All of us. So what if she decided to let it go for a day? Not that she is the only person to do this."
"You are too lenient. Santana deserves an intervention."
"Quinn, I love you so much. You are the woman of my life."
"But…"
"I wanted you to respect certain principles. What Santana does is her business. In a slightly smaller scale, is mine. And a very small fraction of it is your problem and Mike's. Then I would ask that your charges and trials should befitting the role you have in her life. You were right to be angry with her for not having warned us that she would sleep in other place or whatever. She afflicted we all here, especially because we know that this city is not easy. You can argue with her because of this. About what she did in that party? So not your problem, love." Rachel said firmly and left me baffled, discredited and without morals.
Those words fell traversed. I needed to take some fresh air, so I went to my closet and pulled out a coat. Maybe a walk would be good to dilute the anger I was feeling.
"Where are you going?" Rachel grabbed my arm.
"Walking around. I can't stay in this apartment right now!"
"Where are you going?" Mike did the very same question when I passed the room.
"Out there!"
"I am going with you." He ran after me.
It was cloudy October in New York, and everything would start to cool down dramatically in that city. The weather was falling like a glove on my mood. Mike walked beside me in silence, following my footsteps.
"How could she say such things to me?" I complained. "The impression is that Rachel doesn't care for that sort of thing. Drugs?"
"Marijuana..." Mike tried to argue. "They will vote its legalization in Colorado, I heard."
"Drugs are drugs." I said. "If there's one thing I appreciated my father was giving me a painful lesson to stay away from these things or suspicious companies."
"But Johnny also smoke and you don't complain of it."
"I don't live with Johnny. He's not my problem. Don't you think I don't like him. He is very cool and helpful. Except I'm not in love with him as you all are."
"As much as your concern is legitimate, we must give her the benefit of the doubt. It is not like she was a lazy person, Quinn, and she is far from marginal." Mike pondered. "I also don't like drugs. On the other hand, I won't fight her because of it. But, if I see that she needs help because she crossed the line, then I will act." We found a bench and sat. Mike continued. "You should get easy. She didn't commit a crime and I think tonight was just an accident. She still has credit. Another thing: if you didn't reveal certain things or your relationship with her, which is no longer the best, it will worsen. It's not fair to ask Rachel to make choices."
"I've never asked her that" I defended myself.
"But it's what you do most in the subtext. It's not fair to your girl. Santana is Rachel's blood and also her best friend, do you understand this connection? If you don't reveal some things, you can lose. And it's not just about marijuana, Quinn. Sometimes you act as if Santana was a competitor who wanted to steal Rachel from you."
"I won't apologize because I know I'm right! Santana deserves an intervention, but I'll wait for the right moment, when she stumble on her own legs."
"This is the Fabray I know." Mike smiled and put his arm on my shoulder, pulling me to him.
We just returned home in the afternoon. I found Rachel reading a book about theater while Santana was sitting at the table writing an academic essay. I didn't apologize and even commented about what happened. It was just a bad day.
…
(Rachel)
It was hard to get all the time between the lion Quinn and dragon Santana. There were three strong-willed women who could kill each other any time. So, all this time together, I had to stop and control myself to assume the role of moderator. I loved too much those two to let things explode. I understand Quinn's reasons and agreed with many of them. Moreover, Santana needed protection. I feared that her approach with marijuana, but I needed to give her some credit, that she wouldn't get carried away.
When Quinn left home for a walk, I felt relieved. I knew she would come back calmer. Further, Mike accompanied her, so he wouldn't let anything bad to happen. I went to my room and sat on my bed enjoying the brief silence. I heard the bathroom door unlock and my sister came out wrapped in towel. She dressed in silence, brushed her hair and didn't bother to dry them. I liked when she made it. Her hair had light natural waves and earned a handsome volume.
"I am sorry, Ray. I only checked my phone this morning. That's when I saw all your calls. Maybe it was my hangover speaking louder. I don't know. But I swear not to get you worried again like that." I got up and put my finger to her lips. Then a tear escaped her eyes. I knew my sister too well to know that she was truly upset and embarrassed.
"How was the party last night?" I tried to put some enthusiasm in her voice.
"I got a lap dance!" She opened a shy smile.
"Really? And you were with the person who graced you?"
"You had to see the hottie, Ray"
"Potential girlfriend?"
"Oh no! She is a stripper. A real one"
"Santana! No way!"
"She does this to pay the rent. Izabella is her name, I've told about her once. She has a scholarship, so..." I rolled my eyes at the cliché. Whenever there was a girl who paid the studies in her manner. What I didn't realize was that my sister was getting involved with one. "You know what I saw on the way home?" She changed the subject. "Miley Cyrus will do a performance in New York!"
"Since when do you like her?"
"I don't like Miley Cyrus, but Brittany was hired to be one of the dancers on tour."
"Really?" Now, I was excited. "You will be able to see her again after..."
"One year, three months and four days. But who's counting?" Santana laughed at her own joke, but it was sad.
I kissed my sister on her cheek and went to eat something. I was starving because of all seizure and I was sure Santana also needed to put something in her stomach. We ate in silence, she cleaned the kitchen while I was studying a bit. Then, she join me with her computer, her heavy books and a pad full of notes. Quinn and Mike got in the meantime. My girlfriend went straight to her room while Mike stopped at the television to watch something. I sighed. We had a long way to go.