(Rachel)
I don't really like clichéd scenarios. I'm a good researcher of plays and musicals, so I look closely not only at the performance of the actors involved, but also at the aesthetic details. And there are certain things I find unnecessary. I don't understand why every funeral is staged with half-light and dry ice smoke to make it look poetic. It's like that in theater, on television and often in movies. Why is it never sunny at a funeral? It's always cloudy, or snowing lightly, or raining. It's only sunny at a funeral when is a cop movie and the detective identifies the bad guy or the key witness right there.
Ironically, my father's funeral had a clichéd setting. It was held in the late afternoon. There was a light fog in the cemetery, it was very cold and people were wearing heavy black winter coats.
After papi said dad was brain dead, after all crying, venting, wondering what we had done wrong? My father took Santana and me to the hospital early that morning to say goodbye. There was a rush because Dad was an organ donor. Although some organs had been affected in the accident, it was still possible to donate his kidneys, heart, liver and corneas. As his condition was unstable, the doctors had to rush through the collection procedure. Santana and I entered the ICU, saw Dad all intubated, surrounded by devices. There was a big cut on the side of his face, it was swollen... it didn't even look like him anymore. Dad was already gone from this world. Even so, Santana and I were able to stay with him for five minutes and say goodbye. As soon as we left the room, my father nodded and the surgical team entered the room to prepare him.
I don't care who his organs were going to. I simply don't need that kind of false comfort.
Our Jewish tradition recommends that the burial be as close to the moment of death as possible. So we buried him two days later, which was time for bubbee and zaide to arrive, and for our community to organize for the funeral. My father, us and my grandparents would have to sign a lot of papers over the next few weeks, because of the various contracts that were made between Dad and Papi in partnership, such as the purchase of the house. Because Papi and Dad weren't legally married, they bought the house in a partnership, called Tenancy in Common. Upon daddy's death, Santana and I would now have a 50% (25% each) right to our house. And the other 50% would still be papi's. Not that it would make any difference. I didn't want to think about it either.
Rabbi Amnon gave an emotional sermon. He and Dad were good friends. The rabbi's sweet words made me cry for the first time at the funeral. I held my papi's hand by my side. He wanted to stay strong for me and Santana. He didn't have to do that. I didn't care if the three of us were broken and needy. We would be in our right. Santana wore Dad's kippah, Shelby was by her side. Beth was left in the care of a nanny at my house. Cemeteries really aren't places for babies. The Lopezes were almost all there, as was the choir plus Kurt, Blaine, Coach Sylvester and Mrs. Pillsbury. Brittany's family was also present. Prudence and Clara with their respective husbands also made it a point to pay respect to Dad and stand in solidarity with us. There were students, coworkers and friends of my parents. Dad was a beloved and highly regarded teacher. His friendly and easy-going manner managed to outweigh the prejudice our family had been subjected to countless times.
Zaide began to recite the Kaddish, and at that moment tears streamed down Santana's face. My grandfather was devastated by the death of his only son, and I cannot imagine what was going on in his mind. What I can say is that he recited the prayer with unparalleled fervor while striving to maintain the firm posture of a strong man. Bubbee had a nervous breakdown and couldn't bear to go to the funeral. She was medicated at my home. It was likely that zaide and bubbee would spend the mourning with us, which consists of three days of confinement in our home. Actually it was a week, but only the three days were essential in our tradition. Where else but home would I want to be on such an occasion? All I wanted was to lock myself in my room and go to sleep only to wake up when this whole nightmare had come to an end. The only problem was that this bad dream was one of those final ones because Dad wasn't coming back.
People greeted us before leaving after the burial. We chose not to have any kind of funeral reception, and I honestly didn't know what the point was in that: bury a loved one and still offer drinks and food? No. I preferred Jewish isolation. When we got home, I glanced into the poll house where bubbee was. She seemed calm in her sedative-induced sleep that my father had given her earlier. Zaide went into the pool house, closed the door and stayed there. Santana did the same I her bedroom. Papi secluded himself desolate in the library. I saw myself in that house with Shelby. My mother then did the best thing anyone could have done for me at a time like that: she held me.
...
December 19, 2011
(Santana)
My body was sore. It was the evil of being a cheerio: when I stopped exercising, my muscles complained. I stopped completely on my days of mourning. Even after the three days, I still didn't want to leave my room. I looked over and stroked Brittany's hair. She slept with me the day before my birthday. She wanted to give me a good night and a few orgasms as a gift. I appreciated the offer, but I didn't want the sex. All I wanted was to sleep cuddled up with someone I loved, I wanted to feel some human warmth and comfort. Nothing more than that.
"Good morning!" She said hoarsely before kissing me on the mouth.
"Good morning!" I cracked a shy smile. I hadn't smiled in days, not even forcing one.
"Happy birthday, San." Another kiss. This time I felt her tongue invade my mouth. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the caress.
"Thank you." I said as soon as we broke the caress.
"What do you want to do today?"
"I'm going to stay home. I think papi is going to make dinner for Rachel and me. It looks like Shelby is coming too. Maybe abuela."
"You don't sound excited."
"Dad won't be at any other birthday dinners or any other important family events, Britt."
"But Uncle would be upset to see you like this because of him. He always liked your laugh, San. Me too. Maybe you should laugh a little to make him happy in heaven."
"I'll laugh again, Britt. I just need some more time. It's still too recent... it hurts too much."
I wasn't lying. Losing Dad was the worst pain I've ever felt. Brittany stared at me with those insane blue eyes. I got one more kiss before she got out of bed dressed in her hilarious green alien pajamas. She walked over to the backpack she brought and pulled out a small package.
"For you." She sat on my bed with her legs crossed.
I took the little package and unwrapped it. It was a pair of small, round gold earrings with a pearl in the middle. Simple and elegant. I put on the new ones and I kissed her in thanks.
"Thank you, Britt. They're perfect, just like you are."
"You're wellcome."
We got out of bed and showered together: in a rare moment between us that there wasn't sex under the shower. As we left the room, I ran into bubbee, who gave me a tight birthday hug. Then it was zaide's turn.
"Feliz cumpleaños!" Papi also hugged me. "Dios te bendiga y te hace feliz."
"Gracias, papi." I looked around and saw that someone essential was missing. "Donde está Rachel?"
"En La biblioteca. Siento que Ella es nostálgica. Su presencia le hará bien."
"Veré qué puedo hacer."
I found my sister looking through photo albums. She was sitting at the little table with her head resting on the arm. I kissed her head first and then took a good look at what she was looking at.
"Our 9th birthday party?" I sat down next to Rachel. "Dad ordered pizzas and we spent an afternoon bowling with our friends! That was a cool day."
"And you threw the bowling ball at the foot of the clown who was cheering up the little party next door." Rachel burst out laughing. I couldn't resist and started laughing at the memory. It was good to have a good laugh after days. Dad had to pay compensation for the inconvenience to the poor clown.
"He called me a clumsy wimp."
"Unacceptable!" Rachel ironized.
"Totally." I took a good look at my sister. Rachel's face was still swollen from crying, which was understandable. "Do you have any plans for today?"
"None."
"Not even with Finn?" I ventured.
"I haven't spoken to Finn since the day... you know."
"Good. All our friends except Britt are giving us space."
"Yes..."
"Besides, we're going to Cleveland for New Year's Eve..."
"You're going to Cleveland?" Brittany surprised us. "Oh, and happy birthday, Rach!" She hugged my sister.
"Yes. Didn't I tell you?" Brittany shook her head negatively. "We thought zaide and bubbee would like that. Papi is going with us too. He took a few days leave to stay with us."
"Oh! Well, I'm going on a trip too."
"Where to?" I was curious.
"To Los Angeles. The newspaper there offered my father a job, and there is a publisher interested in publishing his comic book. I think he's going to take it. I'm not sure... my parents have been talking a lot about it."
The news dropped like a bombshell. If uncle is going to Los Angeles, and he's the type to carry everyone along, that meant there was a good chance Brittany was saying goodbye to Ohio. I wasn't sure what to think. It was freaking California full of opportunities for her. But what about me? I lost Dad. Now would I lose Brittany too? My mind went into a tailspin.
...
(Rachel)
My birthday had no celebration. There was no spirit for it. Not when Dad had been buried less than a week ago. I received phone calls from Kurt, Mercedes, Mrs. Pillsbury, Mr. Schuester and surprisingly Quinn. Not to mention calls from my relatives. I noticed that Santana's phone was ringing much more frequently than mine. Not that this was unusual. Every year it was the same. I missed Finn. After everything we'd been through together, even our breakup screamed at each other in the school hallway, I'd expected greatness from him. But all I got was condolences on the day of Dad's funeral.
My family was at the dining table that we rarely use except on special days. There weren't many people. Just us, papi, zaide and bubbee, Brittany, abuela, plus Shelby and Beth. We had a dinner party because Dad didn't want our anniversary to go unrecognized. He wasn't the kind of man who liked people to mourn for him. On the contrary, he always had a horror of that sort of thing. Zaide sat at one end of the table and Papi at the other. He had been so depressed that we had hardly talked throughout the day. Abuela and bubbee prepared my and my sister's favorites: babaganouch with olive oil, quinoa and soy dumplings, baked lamb, a beautiful green salad with mushrooms and strawberries, and banana pie for dessert. The dishes didn't match each other, but it was a detail that no one noticed.
We dispensed gifts for us. The only ones we got were the ones Dad had already bought, which Papi delivered to us later in the afternoon. He gave me a box set of classic musicals with all those extras that are always nice to watch. Santana got a "big chemistry lab," as an inside joke of theirs, as well as a piece of jewelry with a pendant in the shape of a Star of David. She immediately replaced the necklace she wore with the cheerio pendant with Dad's gift.
"And now for the girls' birthday gifts." Zaide announced as we ate dessert.
"We had agreed not to give them." My father said angrily.
"I just lost a son, Juan. I think I can and deserve the satisfaction of giving something to my granddaughters."
No one argued against it. How could we? papi didn't like being bullied yet again by zaide. I could even hear him muttering "stubborn Jew". An awkward atmosphere settled over the table. Abuela was holding back from saying a few good ones, and bubbee was keeping her head down. Zaide stood up and handed an envelope to Santana and me.
"Tickets to New York?" I showed the contents of my ticket. "And tickets to see Chicago?"
"They're booked for early January. Accommodation at the Hilton is also booked. I think this trip will do you and your bubbee good."
"Thank you zaide."
It was a perfect gift and would have been celebrated had circumstances been otherwise. I looked at Santana who was frowning at her envelope.
"Zaide, I have tickets to New York too, but where is my ticket to the musical?"
"I would like you to be my company for a few meetings. It's some business I'm going to do. I also want you to talk to Caleb Weiz, a good friend of mine." Zaide stood up, spun the table around and tapped Santana on the shoulder. "You need to be well prepared, my granddaughter."
"Joel." My father got up from the table even more irritated. "Could we talk privately in the library now?"
I charted my destiny at the age of two. I knew from an early age that my future lay in New York, in the role of a big Broadway star. Everything I did was so that I could prepare myself for a dream that I would build myself. I knew how fortunate I was to chart my own path, and to have a family that provided everything for me to achieve my dream. I was much more fortunate than Santana. I realized and understood the pressure she was under to follow other people's dreams. Maybe that was the reason why Santana loved gardening so much: plants don't talk, they don't require much and they don't require math.
...
January 16, 2012
(Rachel)
Santana and I didn't return to school until mid-January. Strictly speaking, we only missed one week of school in December, because soon came the winter's break. Instead of parties at Abuela's house, we opted for seclusion in Cleveland along with bubbee and zaide. My father took leave from the hospital to stay with us as well. New Year's Eve was just as "hectic". Bubbee made supper with help from Santana and me, while papi and Zaide tried to seal the peace with a game of pool. At midnight, Santana and I exchanged a peck in the lips. The next week, we flew to New York. The musical Chicago was splendid. I sensed that Santana was a little jealous. Instead of enjoying herself on Broadway, she went to a business dinner with Zaide and his billionaire friend of years, Caleb Weiz, and toured at the Stuyvesant. Zaide was playing dirty. She said the school's principal was already waiting to speak with her. Santana eventually agreed to take the school's internal selection test, which would take place in February, since she had all the academic prerequisites to study at a school like that.
Back at the old McKinley High just before first period, I got a surprise when I opened my locker: there was a rose and a note from Finn asking me to meet him in the choir room. I wasn't surprised by Finn's note. But I was touched when I saw that his note was among sympathy cards written by my classmates and friends. For some strange reason, my heart didn't race, I didn't feel anxious, although I really wanted to talk to him to solve our problems. After Dad's death, all this teenage drama seemed unfounded to me. First period was history, a class I took with Mike and Noah. Mike greeted me, asked if I was okay and if I needed anything. I thought it was nice of him, but I would appreciate it if people could just go back to normal. It also bothered me that the rest of the choir looked at me like I was a poor thing. I hated the feeling. It was better to just keep the cards: no pitying looks. When the class was over, I went to the choir room with an open heart to talk to my ex-boyfriend.
"Hi Rach!" He reached over to hug me briefly. "Happy birthday, merry Christmas and happy new year. Everything's overdue, isn't it?"
"It happens!"
"Are you feeling better?"
"I wish people would stop asking that."
"Sorry."
"It's not your fault." We sat in the chairs and were silent.
"I've been thinking about everything that happened. As much as I tried to focus on other things, you kept coming back to me. I miss you, Rachel. I know I'm not perfect, but you complete me, you support me and make me feel good. I really love you and I really wish we could get past everything... Santana, Puck, Jesse. We should get past all these obstacles and give each other another chance."
Funny thing is, I've imagined Finn giving a similar speech countless times since he broke up with me. But after I heard the real thing, it didn't sound right. The way the words were put together, it even sounded like Noah and my sister were villains in this story. They were so far from it. Noah was decent to me, and Santana... all the anger I felt about her having sex with Finn had passed. I found it empty and childish to bring that up. Noah and Santana were never problems if you think about it. It was our relationship that always had a lot of downsides. Which ones exactly, I hadn't stopped to think about yet. Finn was a good friend. Maybe the first good friend I'd had in all these years, besides Kurt. But Santana was right: he was never a good boyfriend.
"Have you ever thought of being my friend, without any other interest behind?" I asked still thinking out loud.
"What do you mean?"
"Friend. Like Kurt is my friend. A friend without romantic interests?"
"Kurt is gay. That's why he can be friends with a girl without being interested in her."
"So the answer is no!"
"I don't understand..."
I stared at Finn. I grabbed one of his shoulders to make him lean in. Then I kissed him slowly, deepening the caress little by little. As good as it felt, the butterflies in my stomach were quieter. I needed to think harder about what that meant. What did I want more: the boyfriend or the friend?
"Does that mean we're back?" Finn said with a silly grin on his face.
"That means we're okay, but not that we're back." I pulled away. "Santana was right about some things about us, and I need to think more about it."
"Santana?" His expression tightened. "You're going to listen to the expert at ruining people's lives right away?"
"She's my sister, Finn. Did you know that?"
"She could be your sister, Rachel. That doesn't mean Santana cares about you or your feelings. All she knows how to do is criticize us and put us down."
"My sister is a bitch a lot of the time, I agree. But she has a very interesting characteristic of being extremely honest with people. Anyway, Santana often says that I need friends more than a boyfriend. That people pretend to call me much more because of my talent and because they need it in the choir."
"She's wrong."
"Is she? You, for example. Why did you stay with me if I'm not sexy like Santana or pretty like Quinn?"
"Because I love you, Rach... I might be one of the few people who love some of your flaws. Not to mention that you have so much talent and..." He closed his eyes as soon as he realized he said exactly what I didn't want to hear.
"I love you too Finn. You're the man of my dreams. Maybe my number 1. But I don't know if I want to be with you right now."
"Rach..."
"Be my friend first. My accomplice. Then we'll see."
I turned my back and went to calculus class, the same one Santana and I were pulled out of when they reported Dad's accident. The conversation with Finn made me late, but the teacher turned a blind eye. I had a feeling she would go easy on me and my sister for at least this first week. I apologized and sat down in the vacant chair next to Quinn, who kindly showed me some notes in her notebook. There were things I'd missed during my week away at school, but I'd be able to catch up in no time if the math genius I had at home helped me. Otherwise, Quinn's notes were very welcome. I appreciated Quinn's gesture. In the middle of an explanation, the eyes of the class turned to Santana. With the subtlety of a hippopotamus, my sister corrected the teacher's misplacement.
"I swear the teacher was going to put Santana in detention after she was corrected the third time. Sometimes I don't know which Berry-Lopez is the craziest." Quinn said good-naturedly as we left the class, which surprised me. We walked side by side down the hall, since we would be taking the English Literature class together.
"At least I don't fight my teachers." I said as I reached my locker to change my books.
"You? Rachel Berry-Lopez?" Quinn laughed. "Half the teachers is there to disagree." I was in awe of Quinn. I didn't know this sarcastic, humorous side of her. It was pleasant and charming. Quinn raised one of her eyebrows, a move that was typical of her, when she noticed my admiration. "What?"
"You, Quinn Fabray, are talking to me in the middle of the school corridors? What's worse, you're smiling at me?"
"So what?"
"It's something that doesn't happen every day."
"You're a dwarf who steals your grandmother's clothes to go to school, and you're annoying most of the time. But I kind of like you. What I said that day in your room was true. I care about you... and your sister."
"Thank you?"
"Give it a rest Rachel. I'll still find plenty of ways to make your life hell. But for now, I'm just not into it."
"I'm not sure that's a reason to say thank you." I smiled as we made our final way to the next class.
"You bet it is, Lopez 2." She tapped the notebook lightly against my back. "Just like that, we have one more class to endure. And that's going to be a lot easier if you remain silent. So if you could please, don't spend half the class arguing with the teacher about whether or not Othello was a victim of jealousy."
"What's wrong with furthering the discussion?"
"We've been stuck on 'Othello' for ages. My essay on the book has even grown moldy! Then I want to get to Tennessee Williams soon."
I shook my head and smiled. Life goes on. Sometimes it creeps up on us, presses down on our shoulders, strips away our illusions to place before our eyes a harsh reality. Losing a father was an indescribable pain, and I can't even venture to say how things will go from here. It's simply impossible. But life goes on, time goes on and we take it.
