(Santana)
As was the case in many universities in the country, students were housed in dormitories that were in line with their economic reality. Some enjoyed the luxury of fraternities. Others had very nice apartments or dormitories with single rooms. Others, like Izabella Richards and Lucy Watson, lived in a rented room in an old building clogged with students. These small places didn't prevent parties happen.
After a complicated and busy Friday, I wasn't in the mood to go out. I fulfilled my domestic obligation, I just wanted to sit on the couch and watch some movie. Preferably a really boring one so I could fall asleep in the middle. It's a pity that my cell phone rang so many times. And most of them were calls from Matt. He insisted so much that I decided to leave my place do party with him. After all, in his words, my college life would only make sense with a little partying and free love. I took the subway to Manhattan and arrived at Izabella and Lucy's three rooms apartment (and a bathroom) around eight p.m.
All of my Columbia's closest friends were there, and others I knew by sight. UB 40's version of "I Can See Clearly Now" was playing, which I thought was catchier than Jimmy Cliff's. Some people danced in the middle of the small living room with kitchen, and others talked and drank in the hallway. One detail about this kind of party: most of the students who lived on the same floor used to open their doors as well. It was a way to avoid fights and disagreements. There was beer in the hallway in huge bucket with ice on it. I greeted my friends, and Brian offered me a can to get me in the mood. I didn't hesitate to accept. The beer was very cold, a delight that went down well. I wasn't in the mood to dance yet. I leaned in a corner of the hallway watching the party that was taking over the floor.
"And our little princess has arrived!" Matt celebrated raising a can of beer. He was dancing very close with another girl and I can't quite tell how his date felt about seeing the guy she was with greet another girl with such enthusiasm.
Matt called me the princess because my family was the best-off financially out of our entire group of misfits. If he knew what I was having to go through… I was almost literally walking around with only my subway card in my pocket and the money to eat at the university restaurant, because that was all I could afford with the... God, how humiliating it was... my sister gave me an allowance for that purpose. My situation wasn't even worse because of the very limited credit card that my father was willing to pay just to help me.
"Aren't you going to dance?" Andrew asked and I still wasn't in the spirit, I continued with the beer. "I thought you were into it judging by that party." He was referring to a reception for freshmen where I met all of my so far closest friends from the college. The welcoming committee used to organize a bash on campus in broad daylight attended by the newcomers. It was a cordiality before the hazing period. I was simply happy to have been able to stay at Columbia and that's why I acted so excited at the reception party.
"I like dancing. But not now!" I sipped a little more of the beer and then turned to Izabella, who had moved closer to her friends to rest a little. "Don't you usually work on weekends?"
"Not today, baby!"
"Isn't Friday a good day to have extra money?"
In fact, it was Izabella herself, who was a scholarship holder, who told us without the slightest fear that she was able to stay in the city doing such work. She said it was better to deal with the truth than to embarrass herself with rumors that she knew to be true. In fact, she should be able to make good money dancing naked in front of an audience of men with bones, plus a few women with wet vaginas. Izabella was as tall as Brittany, she had long beautiful legs, nice breasts, long wavy brown hair, tan skin: she was beautiful. Even I would put good money on Izabella's thong if I saw her dancing on a stage.
"Not really." She began to explain, striking a powerful bitch pose. "The strippers earned a percentage of what they collected on stage and that was independent of the day of the week. The ones who do lap dances earn a little more. There are some girls who has clients arranged by the owner of the club." Izabella took a long sip of beer. "There are some girls who has clients on their own, and they usually pick up customers in the clubs, but those have a cruel fate when they get caught, which I don't like to think about. It's also not cool to mix the jobs. You're either a stripper or a sex worker, you know? They are two different professionals. I dance until I'm naked to pay for this fucking thing, but I don't sell my vagina."
"Why didn't you try burlesque dancing? More artistic, only shows the breasts..." I hinted.
"They pay shit, it's a more stuck-up group..." Izabella added. "I know some girls who do burlesque dancing. Believe me, they're so pretentious, you couldn't stand it. The club I dance at is frequented by Wall Street executives. The money is very good, and the girls have a certain background."
"Still, aren't you missing out on money by not working today?"
"I can do my scales!" Then she smiled mischievously. "You're the kind of girl who would make the biggest hit on the pole. You're always complaining that you have no money... why don't you try it?"
"No, thank you very much, but no!" I finished my first beer.
"You think you're better?" Izabella sneered.
"No... it's just not my way... I wouldn't give her that taste either..."
Izabella didn't understand what I meant at all. I don't blame her. It's not that I had any bias, but doing that kind of work would be one of the last options to get money. Only if I was totally desperate. I would never give it a go either. Rachel's line saying I would end at the pole years ago still rings in my mind. It was one of the rare public arguments where she won, cruelly, and right in front of the entire McKinley High glee club. Rachel's words didn't tell the truth, but they were meant to demoralize me, because those people would understand that my end in that underworld as a real possibility because of my behavior and attitude in school. After that day, even after Rachel apologized at home, I vowed never to touch a pole in my life, if only to seduce, in private, the person I liked.
"But if you got another job, would you give up the pole?" I asked.
"The hottest girls at the party in a corner standing around?" Matt appeared again, interrupting my conversation with Izabella. He pulled me and Izabella along at the same time. "It's not fair! The hottest girls at the party need to dance and make everyone else jealous."
At that moment "Sunshine Reggae" was playing, and I started moving easy around Matt and Izabella. We danced two songs in a row before taking a break to grab another beer. Matt sat down on one of the plastic stools in the hallway and rolled a joint. He lit it and took a puff. Then he offered it to me. I had tried it once during the Reading festival in England. It was an interesting experience, but I was reluctant to continue because of Dad and the stories he told of how he smoked pot as a teenager and, as an adult, said he regretted it, wished he had been more prudent. He even tried cocaine once. Dad also almost lost Papi, who has always hated smokers, especially potheads, because he simply has an aversion to the smell. Dad said he had to drastically change his habits to win over the former athlete who would be a doctor.
"Never tried it?" Matt smiled faintly. The scene was watched by the rest of my friends.
"I did... but it's been a while."
"You didn't like it?"
"It was good, but..."
"Time to get nostalgic then." I was cut off by Matt.
I hesitated, but saw that all my friends were watching me. Maybe smoking one more time wasn't going to make me a pothead. It was just a party and I was among friends, right? I picked up the joint and took a drag. I coughed and got pats on my back from Lucy Watson. I took a sip of my beer before trying again. I did better on my second attempt and Matt celebrated. Joints circulated freely among the students. The sound of the music helped the mood, as did the beers. I laughed under the influence of weed, danced and, at one point, in a joke with my friends, I won a lap dance from Izabella.
The weed confused my mind, but there was a moment when Izabella seemed to want to seduce me for real. She made me sit on the plastic chair and started to move against my lap. I tried to run my hand over her butt, but Izabella turned away aggressively.
"Rule number one: no touching." She spoke provocatively and I swear Andrew teased in his pants just watching us.
What could I say about Andrew? He was the nerdiest and perhaps the most observant of our group of misfits. He wasn't handsome, like Matt, but he had his charm. He was always very thoughtful in everything he did, drank a little, didn't do drugs, but didn't criticize anyone who did. The most interesting thing was that Andrew had everything to be anti-social, but he wasn't like that. He was even a good guy. I liked him: he was a good friend. Knowing that I had unintentionally provoked him like that would give me good ammunition to make fun of his face later.
Izabella continued to do the lap dance which I didn't know if it was for me or just to show off, but it set my eyes on fire. A beautiful woman like that, with a curvy body and nice breasts rubbing all that material is to kill anyone. By the time she finished, she was laughing and I felt my face burn. She was used to it. It wasn't personal for her. But it was for me. I felt like grabbing Izabella and grabbing her in front of everyone, from the hard-on she gave me. That's exactly what I did.
I pulled her in and kissed her with gusto, with desire. She was the first woman I had kissed since Brittany. In fact, I had never kissed any woman besides Brittany. How good it was. Izabella knew things. I thought I would dominate her, but two minutes later she was dominating me. It was obvious that she was much more experienced than me in casual sex. I was on shaky legs, horny as hell. I wanted, at that very moment, to have sex with Izabella more than anything. I had been abstinent for three months, and I had been a good girl all this time. I wanted it, I craved it.
"Shall we get out of here?" I whispered in her ear.
Izabella smiled, kissed me, and continued dancing as if nothing had happened. Obviously she knew how to deal with horny people at her job. She was having fun with the situation, because it didn't affect her. But she did affect me, a lot. I ended up having a taste of my own poison. I also used to tease some guys at school parties when I was at McKinley and then ignore them. All just to reinforce my fame and popularity. But I didn't have to do much to get an asshole horny teenage boy. Izabella was another story, another level of teasing.
"It's serious! Let's get out of here!" I looked for her in the middle of the dance floor.
"Is the princess that horny?" She teased me.
"You have no idea."
Izabella laughed. She looped her arm around my waist, and danced like she was going to fuck me right there. If I laughed at Andrew's face for getting hard while watching me, if I had a penis, I would have cum right there. It had been a long time since I'd been so wet, so breathless without being directly touched. Only Brittany seemed to have that effect, but Izabella proved right there that she was also very capable. She got tired of trying to make me miserable and had a little mercy. Izabella took me to her room, even with the party still going on next door, and decided to put me out of my misery.
"Why are you so miserable, princess?"
"Shut up and fuck me."
Izabella smiled. She knew what she was doing, and obviously wanted some orgasms in return. She got the right person, because I was willing to do everything right. She unbuttoned my pants and unzipped them. I pulled down my pants a little to help with the contact. Her hand went inside my panties, and two fingers slipped inside as she pressed me against the door and kissed me. As I had anticipated, it didn't take long for me to reach orgasm. Her little fingers barely moved inside my vagina, her thumb barely pressed against my clit, and I was already gone. Izabella laughed, still without removing her hand from my sex.
"Already?" She teased me.
"It was only the first wave. To lighten things up so I can work properly."
"Work how?"
I got down on my knees, and showed Izabella that I knew things too. I forgot about the party, I forgot about friends, I forgot about life. At least for that night.
...
September 15, 2013
(Quinn)
Rachel paced back and forth. She just couldn't sleep, and it wasn't my fault, it wasn't for a pleasant reason. My girlfriend was wanting to summon the national guard, the fire department, and the NYPD over Santana's disappearance. Aside from Mike, who liked to have his freedom, the three of us never failed to give notice of our steps. Not that it was a pre-established obligation, but in a city like New York, it never hurts to leave a message saying, "I'm not sleeping at home," for example. A lot happens in this city, the best and the worst. The other day, I read in the popular newspaper the story of a 16-year-old girl who was raped in Central Park by three guys. These things happened every day, and we couldn't afford to think that this kind of tragedy would never knock on our door. Unfortunately it did, and young women like us were prime targets. Hence the need to warn to avoid unnecessary worry.
Santana said she was going to a friends' party near the Columbia campus, but didn't say anything about whether she would return the same night or sleep over. We would have been reassured if she had at least saw to any of the messages we sent. Nothing. I had my differences with Santana, but I cared about her. Mike was tense too. Rachel suggested calling Johnny to come over there and check things out. It would be ridiculous, but my girlfriend send him a message anyway… Johnny also didn't see her message probably because it was early in the morning, he was a grown-up person and he had a girlfriend and a life. Mike crossed his arms and couldn't sleep from the middle of the night either.
"How many hours has Santana been missing?" I've never seen Rachel so distressed. "Is it 12 hours that the police say to expect? But I don't know..."
"Rachel." Mike held her in both arms and tried to convey confidence. "Let's exhaust our options first, okay? We can't call the police… yet. Maybe her cell phone battery went dead."
"It could be... maybe if I send one more message..." She wiped away a tear and ran to the table. I didn't know whether to be angry with Santana or pity with Rachel because of her trembling hands.
"Just tell me you're alive..." - Ray
She typed and placed the device on the table. Then she hugged me. Two minutes later, we heard the phone vibrate.
"On the subway... I arrive in 15" - Santy
Rachel almost had a nervous breakdown when she read the message. Santana was alive and well, by the way. My girlfriend shook herself. The cell phone rang once more.
"Sorry for not send you a message" – Santy
Rachel sat back in her chair and started crying with relief. We all relaxed. Mike sat down on the couch and began to rub his face. The problem was that Rachel was very nervous and her state contaminated us. I tried to stretch my neck, and was surprised by the pops caused by my tension. The muscles in my shoulders burned. But the irresponsible Santana was fine and on her way home. That was the most important thing.
Rachel went to the bathroom to wash her face while I stood with my arms crossed walking around our small room. Now we were waiting for Santana to arrive so we could rest. I needed to take a shower to relax and sleep. I'd been up since 3 a.m, because that's when Rachel woke up and didn't see her sister at home. She sent messages, she actually tried to call her sister and nothing. That's how all this tension began and nobody else couldn't sleep anymore.
We heard the rattle of the key in the door. Rachel flew in at astonishing speed. As soon as Santana opened the door, she was already getting a hug from her sister.
"Never. More. Do. that. to. me!" Rachel slapped Santana on the back demarcating each word and then hugged her tight once more.
"I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was sleeping out." Santana hugged her back. "I really didn't plan on it, and I didn't even listen to my cell phone over the music."
There! Rachel's relief was so great that the fact that Santana had almost killed us with worry would be forgotten in less than five minutes. That wasn't how things worked. Not with me. Not when I'm the one who's been up since three in the morning holding Rachel, who was shaking with nerves because she saw her sister wasn't home, not answering her texts, not answering her phone calls, and she started thinking about the worst possible scenarios.
"You should have a little consideration for your sister!" I approached with my arms crossed and a frown on my forehead. "Rachel spent most of the night thinking about a thousand and one things that could have happened to you."
"At least you're okay!" Mike patted Santana on the head. "Just don't do that anymore, okay? One message and that's it! It won't kill you, San."
"I deserve the scolding. It won't happen again!" Santana replied as Rachel finally released her. "Sorry guys, I should have remembered to text you to let you know."
I wasn't so convinced that the lack of warning was a mere oversight. Santana could play innocent for her sister. She wasn't fooling me. We attended the same parties at McKinley, and I knew what was going on there. I had never seen Santana with marijuana, only with booze in hand. I stopped going to some of the parties, especially after I got pregnant, but I knew very well how Santana behaved. I knew she would be able to experiment. True, she spent a year quietly behaving, but now that she was in college, then, it seems logical to me that she would want to live out some of the clichés. I realized this as soon as that smell of marijuana invaded our apartment. She didn't answer the phone because she didn't hear her cell phone. Her cell phone vibrates, by Christ that's in heaven! She didn't answer it because she was so high and possibly drunk she didn't even realize it. The worst part was seeing Rachel so grateful her sister was home that she would overlook something serious.
"I may be a grumpy grimace as you say, but I know that disgusting smell that's impregnated in you!" I hissed.
"Good!" Santana tried to get past me, but I blocked her front. "Look, Quinn, I know I messed up and made you worry. It won't happen again. I swear! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take a shower."
"You didn't hear the phone because you were on drugs." Without taking my eyes off Santana, I said louder. "Since when do you have this disgusting habit?"
"That's none of your business!"
"Quinn, let it go." Rachel tried to pull me back, but things wouldn't be let go that easily.
"You live in the same roof as me, and now you eat the food I pay for. The hell it's none of my business. I don't need to share my space with an addict, a criminal. God knows what kind of filth a person like you can bring into this house!"
"I didn't know Russell Fabray lived here." Santana crossed her arms and said cynically.
"You have to respect me!" I pointed my finger.
"Next you'll be saying I have to obey you too." Santana spoke ironically. "You know what, Fabray, fuck you."
Santana pushed me and that was the limit. She was very wrong if she thought she could leave everyone worried and at her mercy. She deserved such a lesson that she would never want to go near a marijuana cigarette again in her life. I came out of myself and slapped her across the face. Everyone seemed to go into shock, there was a brief silence before a growl was heard. Things happened fast, and the next thing I knew, Santana was on top of my body strangling me. Mike and Rachel pulled her off me, then Rachel got between us.
"Enough!" Rachel shouted. "I am tired! Enough!" Still panting, she turned to her sister. "Please, go take your bath or whatever... then we'll talk more calmly..."
Santana nodded and walked to her room, staring at me before turning her face and back.
"Can we talk in private?" Rachel lowered her voice to me.
Although I still felt like going after Santana to fight back, I agreed. We went into my room and I sat on my bed in silence for long minutes. I needed to get some adrenaline down and so did she. I tried to take a deep breath and let the tension out. Rachel did the same. I saw that she was crying and taking deep breaths to control herself. I respected that moment, waiting for her to calm down.
"Dad said he smoked pot and tried other drugs a lot in college." She began. "He said the experience was bad from the moment he got hooked on it. He always warned us of the dangers, but he never forbade us to try it. Dad wasn't the kind of guy who put chastity belts on his daughters or lectured us unnecessarily. I think he knew things like that would happen, so he tried to raise awareness rather than scold. At that point, he was a much more evolved person than Papi, you know? Papi would have reacted in a more similar way you did."
"You knew!" I accused. "You didn't seem surprised when I told you Santana smoked pot." Rachel nodded positively.
"I was there when she tried it for the first time. It was in London. We both had some first-time experiences on that trip."
"What?" I was surprised and disgusted at the same time. "You're not going to say that you..."
"I've never smoked, okay? I'm afraid of what it might do to my voice. Also because I'm just like papi on that point: I hate the smell." Rachel jumped in. "I don't like Santana messing with that kind of stuff, but I understand that maybe it's part of the college experience, part of her maturation process, just like it was with Dad. My sister spent a year in this town being too controlled, too worried, maturing more than she should have. It happened to all of us. So what if she decided to let loose for a day? People our age do that, Quinn. Straight girls have a lesbian experience, boys too, some smoke pot or experiment with other things. There are people who, I don't know, decide to become hippies in the 21st century. These things happen. Okay. It's part of growing up. Santana smoked pot at a party and did who knows what else. I still want to kill her for not warning me with a small text, and for making me worry, but I'm not going to condemn her for it."
"You are too condescending. Santana deserves to feel the consequences."
"Quinn, I love you so much. You're the woman of my life..."
"But?"
"I want you to respect certain principles. Santana is 18, and what she does is her problem. On a smaller scale, she's my problem because I'm her sister and because right now I'm paying for her bills. Sorry, but her real family is me. I am her blood, not you. Santana would only be your problem if she did something that directly involved you and would affect you in a significant way. So I would ask you very much that your charges and judgments be commensurate with the role you play in her life. You were right to be upset that she didn't let we know she was going to a sleep out. We are all distressed here, particularly as we know this town is not easy or safe. The rest? Not your problem!" Rachel said firmly and left me disconcerted, discredited and without morals. "Another thing: Santana is only not working because we can hold her back so she can study. And all I see is my sister spending late nights over the books, not to mention doing her part here at home. You required her to be practically a maid to pay her share, and my sister leaves this house shining! As far as I'm concerned, she owes absolutely nothing to either you or Mike! So don't go saying she eats your food! You seem to forget that for over a year she was our financial mainstay and that you ate from the food she put on the table. If it wasn't for Santana, we would have gone back to Lima with the rest of the choir after nationals. I don't remember her throwing those things in your face either!"
Those words came down hard. I hadn't expected Rachel to shut me out like that. I needed to get some fresh air. I went to my closet and pulled out a coat. Maybe a walk around the park near home would be good to dilute the anger I was feeling.
"Where are you going?" Rachel held me by the arm.
"To walk around. I can't stay inside this apartment right now!"
I slammed my bedroom door. I urgently needed some fresh air.
"Where are you going?" Mike asked the same question when I opened the door.
"Around!"
"I'm going with you." He ran after me.
The weather was cloudy in New York. It was September, the beginning of fall, and everything would start to cool down steeply in that city. The weather suited my mood like a glove. Mike walked beside me in silence. He followed my quick steps. We walked to the park near our home and I slowed my steps when my feet hit the grass.
"How could she say those things to me?" I complained. "The impression is that Rachel doesn't give a shit about this kind of thing. Santana is messing with drugs!"
"Joint..." Mike tried to argue.
"Drugs are drugs." I said quietly. "If there's one thing I'm thankful my father did, it was teach me a painful lesson to stay away from those things or suspicious company."
"But Johnny smokes too and you don't complain about him."
"Johnny doesn't live with me. He's not my problem. Don't think I don't like him. I do, he's very nice to us and helpful. I'm just not in love with him like you all are."
"As much as the concern is legitimate, we need to give San the benefit of the doubt. She's not a lazy irresponsible person, Quinn, and she's far from a lowlife." Mike mused. "I don't like that stuff either. I may drink sometimes, but I don't smoke because it's just not my thing. On the other hand, I'm not going to lecture because this is a grown person. Now, if I see that she needs help because she's crossed some line, I'm going to act. That's it." We found a public bench and sat down. Mike continued. "You should take it easy on San. She hasn't committed a crime, and I think tonight was just an accident. She still has credit. Another thing: you need to let things go or your relationship with San, which is already not the best, will get worse. It's not fair for you to ask Rach to make choices."
"I never asked her to do that." I defended myself.
"Between the lines is what you do most. It's not fair to your girl. Santana is Rachel's blood, she is her twin sister, do you understand that connection? If you don't let some things go, it's you who could lose out. And it's not just the marijuana, Quinn. The day you freaked out because Santana gave Rachel a peck on her lips is a very clear example that you need to get a grip. From your reaction, an inattentive person might think Santana was having sex with Rachel in the middle of the room! Sometimes you explode over very trivial things."
"Sometimes I'm unfair on Santana, don't I?"
"A lot!" Mike smiled and ran his hand over my back.
"I won't apologize because I know I'm right! Santana shouldn't have done that."
"That's the Fabray I know." Mike smiled and slung his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him.
"You up for a hot dog at McGolrick's?" He was referring to the park that was smaller and a bit farther, but that we could walk to. It really had the best hot dog stand we've tasted in New York.
"Let's go!"
We didn't get home until late morning. We found Rachel sleeping in the couch, while Santana was sitting at the table writing the academic essay for one of her classes at Columbia. I didn't apologize or even comment on what happened. I went straight into my room because I needed to sleep as well. It was just a bad day.
...
(Rachel)
It was hard to stand between the lion Quinn and the dragon Santana all the time. My sister and my girlfriend were two strong-willed women who could kill each other at any moment. So, during this time of coexistence, I had to restrain myself and control myself to assume the role of moderator. I loved those two too much to allow things to explode. I understood Quinn's reasons and agreed with some of them. On the other hand, Santana needed defense. I feared her approach to marijuana, but I needed to give her my vote of confidence that she wouldn't make a habit of it.
When Quinn left home for a walk, I felt relieved. I knew she would come back calmer after a walk. Plus, Mike was with her, which put my mind at ease. 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 her towel. She dressed in silence, combed her hair and didn't bother to dry it. I liked it when Santana let them dry naturally. Her hair had such beautiful waves. Trying to act natural, as was her nature, Santana hung up the towel and tidied some things around the room.
"There are a few things I can do on campus. In fact, I've even been looking into something. There should be a position opening up soon in the cafeteria..." She tried to speak casually. "It's not much, but it can help contribute to some expenses around here. I can also go back with Mr. Weiz and..." I stood up and put my index finger to her lips. She didn't need to justify herself to me. Then a tear escaped from her eye. I knew my sister too well to know that she was embarrassed and as upset as I was.
"How was the party last night?" I tried to put some enthusiasm in my voice.
"I won a lap dance!" She cracked a shy smile.
"Really? And did you sleep with the person who graced you?"
"You bet."
"Oh... potential boyfriend or girlfriend?"
"It was with Izabella."
"Izabella? Isn't she that colleague of yours you said was a stripper?"
"The very one! It was a one-night thing. I wouldn't have a relationship with Izabella. It would be too complicated. I don't want a serious relationship with anyone right now either."
"Which, in your case, means an open relationship that for you is just lip service, because you're more like papi than you'd like to admit."
"You know what I found out on the way home?" It was her turn to change the subject. "A poster of Miley Cyrus' upcoming concert in New York!"
"Since when do you like her?"
"Think Ray! Who dances for the little bitch who has the voice of a 60-year-old woman who smokes three packs of cigarettes a day?"
"Brittany!"
"Bingo!"
"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 I didn't think so. I thought it was sad that my sister was still in love with Brittany. She hadn't been able to move on.
I kissed my sister on the cheek and went to the kitchen to make something. I was starving because of all the apprehension and I was sure Santana needed to put something in her stomach too. We ate in silence, she tidied up the kitchen while I went to study a bit. My sister thought I didn't go to college, but I did...only in the mornings and I took the minimum credits. It wasn't long before she joined me with her computer, heavy books and a pad of paper filled with notes. I tried to read a book about the history of theater, but fatigue got the best of me. I ended up sleeping on the couch after a long, long night.