(Quinn)
I opened my eyes without much desire. I had woken up some time ago, but I kept my eyes closed in a foolish attempt to pretend I was alone. I felt Sam's hand running down my back. He knew I was awake. My body was tense, and I had no way to pretend anymore. I turned to the side and saw him with a silly smile on his face.
"Good morning."
"Morning." My voice came out hoarse.
"How are you feeling?"
"Sore." I said without thinking and provoked a guilty reaction in my boyfriend. "Oh, it wasn't because of that." I hurried to explain. "It's a consequence of the week's practices. The cheerios' state competitions are coming up, and the coach is spitting fire at me."
This was the purest truth, in part, because I was a little sore down there too. The week's cheerleading practices had been so hard that I found myself questioning several times whether it was worth going through all that to secure the scholarship that would get me out of Lima. It was stressful waking up at 5:30 in the morning to practice, then study, and in the meantime control a bunch of vain girls who would stab me in the back in the blink of an eye. It was a miscalculated mistake to betray Santana and take her out of the captaincy at the very beginning of the year. I learned the hard way how delicate losing an ally like her was. Santana was still on the team because of Brittany, but she no longer acted like the second in command, and she no longer had my back.
It would be wiser to secure a return to the squadron and remain second in command for a while. Santana was going to end up making a mistake that would cost her leadership because she was impulsive and emotional. She didn't know how to be like me: cold and calculating when she needed to be. But the Fabray side of me spoke louder and I had to take her down soon. Big mistake. Her five fingers burned on my face for days.
I still had a little shy help from Brittany, but only because she always had team spirit. Much more so than Santana and I, who were equally competitive. I knew that Brittany's support was about to break down as well. After Hiram Berry's death, Santana lost all her motivation to be in cheerios, if she ever had any, and Brittany was determined to support her in whatever it took, including leaving the team. I thought it was only a matter of time before Santana quit for good. All the girls had that thought, even Coach Sylvester, because Santana was also less and less interested in the team and the work. It was complicated to hold all this crap. If I didn't know how to control the girls, the atmosphere inside the cheerios would become unbearable.
In addition to training, I continued to work in order to secure some money for my personal expenses. The pension my mother earned was small, so we sold the house we had and bought a smaller one in a more modest neighborhood. At least we had money to pay for basic expenses for a while. There was nothing left over for the little luxuries, so we had to work for them: a new outfit, shoes... the wines my mother drank every day. Since she could no longer afford the expensive wines with my father's money, she settled for the cheaper ones. One of the cheapest, ironically, was made at Rachel and Santana's aunt and uncle's winery. There was always a bottle or two in the house. Mom started sewing to supplement our income. She would do repairs and make enough money to pay off her credit card. She sewed, do the housework and at the end of the day, she had her (big) glass of cheap, locally made wine.
Sometimes I think the biggest reason I went back to being such a bitch at school was that I need to feel good. I don't want to be the girl who got pregnant and then became poor. Staying at the top of the cheerios pyramid meant forgetting for a moment that my future was in check. The society girls knew about the fragmentation of the Fabray household, so I used my strength as a captain to keep them quiet and submissive.
The choir was a leisure time. Despite all the fights and weekly messes, the activity was my school breath. The choreographies were always light, the atmosphere was more relaxed. Sometimes I could sing my demons in musical metaphors, and it was gratifying to watch my classmates do the same. And I had Rachel getting fitter and fitter both physically and vocally. That was the part I loved the most, especially because I got to get close to her. We were beginning to develop a good friendship. It's a shame that Hiram had to die for me to work up the courage to try to be a part of Rachel's life in a positive way, regardless of what my family or the popular kids thought of me.
If that was all you could have of Rachel Berry-Lopez, then so be it. I could be Quinn Fabray, captain of the cheerios, bitch, with a cute boyfriend on the side, honor roll student, choir member, and loser diva's friend.
"How are you?" I returned the question to my boyfriend.
"I'm fine. It was an amazing time, Quinn."
"Of course." I forced a smile.
"Can I ask you how I… I was good?" He turned red with embarrassment.
"Why are you worried about that?"
"I'm not an experienced guy." And am I? I got pregnant on my first try, but to the boys' minds, it seems I gave it to everyone. Anyway, I tried not to take offense.
"Me neither, Sam. I haven't had anyone but Puck... and now you."
"It's just that my first time was a disaster." He laughed. "It was with a girl at my old school, and she made sure to spread the word how I was bad. But it was my first time! I think I got trauma."
Oh, poor him! I felt like rolling my eyes and getting out of that bed. Instead, I took a good look at Sam and pressed my lips together, thinking carefully about what I should say to him. If I had known he was so insecure, I might have found a way to exploit that and put off our first sexual relationship any longer. I decided to go to bed with Sam because he was showing signs that he was reaching his limit, that he couldn't hold back any longer. I wasn't a virgin, a baby had passed through my vagina, and I had no family reputation to uphold. My excuses for keeping my legs closed were getting worse and worse, and Sam didn't deserve such indifference. Either we went to the next step, or we broke up. I chose the first option, out of an idiotic fear of being single in that school, and worsening my image. Sam was a year younger than me, he was handsome, he beat Finn for the starting quarterback position. In other words: a safe bet.
So I decided to make a special date. We had dinner at Breadstixs, went dancing at a bar that doesn't care if you show fake ID cards of terrible quality, and then I invited him to my house. I bought condoms and did what I thought I had to do to keep my boyfriend. I tried to enjoy the moment, unlike my first time with Puck, when I was drunk and had an esteem crisis. I pulled my boyfriend's face and kissed him. First on his forehead, then on his cheek, then on his lips.
"You were great. Don't worry."
"I love you!"
There was the damn word, great for the one who says it, and distressing for the one who receives it and doesn't feel the same. Staying silent would hurt him, kissing him without answering would hurt him, and the whole mood would be broken. I kind of liked Sam: we could hold a conversation for five minutes, whether it was about music or the game schedule.
"I love you too!" I lied and complemented it with another kiss on the lips.
"I wanted to stay here forever!" Sam cracked a smile.
"But I have an appointment." I closed my eyes as the sentence came out too pragmatic. "You know..." I softened my tone. "As much as I want to be here with you, I have this obligation to go to mass with my mom."
I got up from the bed and went towards the bathroom. I locked the door so he wouldn't think I was inviting him to take a shower for two. I turned on the water and the first thing I did was wash downstairs. I still had that feeling that a penis had been between my legs. As much as Sam had tried hard to do it right, it wasn't that time that I could say I had a satisfying sexual experience for two.
I couldn't tell what was so wrong with me. I had pacified myself the fact that I was attracted to women. But shouldn't sex with men be okay? Santana loved Brittany, but she enjoyed having sex with Puck. Couldn't the same thing happen to me? The male body didn't appeal to me. Sam had a perfect body, but one that I found too rigid, too heavy. Besides, he was short-lived. Not in a ridiculous way like Finn Hudson, but out of the two rounds we had, he cum well before he had a chance.
The water on the back of my neck was relaxing and energizing, but I couldn't stay there forever. I stepped out of the shower. The steam from the hot water fogged up the mirror. I wiped it clean and stared at my still blurry reflected image.
"Why can't I like men?"
…
Claudia was moving out. I didn't know if I was sadder because of the loss of a good client, or if I would miss the little one, or the casual conversations over coffee table after she got home. I think it was a bit of everything. Besides being a nice woman, Claudia was pretty and very young. She was 25 and already making a good career for herself. She had been offered a job in another city, and she was very happy. That afternoon, she didn't hire me to babysit her son, but to help her pack boxes. I know that she would ship most of her things by courier and then get in the car heading to Baltimore.
Moving out was very tiring. My mom and I can say that. It took us days to pack our stuff. I found that I kept a lot of useless stuff, so much so that I couldn't even sell it at the garage sale we had. The solution was to donate part of what was left, and throw the other part in the trash, literally. Claudia had already had experiences like that. So much so that the things I helped her pack were basically clothes, her son's toys, a few appliances, books and work materials. She had few ornaments that she would take with her, and a few picture frames. Still, it was a lot of work. Lucky for me, I was able to earn good money because of it.
"Do you take beer?" Claudia asked from the kitchen, while I stood in the living room, sealing the last box.
"I don't usually drink." I replied. The last time I got drunk, I was pregnant.
"We have blueberry juice. Would you like some?"
"Sure thing." I thanked her.
From where I stood, I could get a privileged view of Claudia's ass as she bent over to pick up the drinks. She was wearing a pair of tiny shorts, the kind made from old jeans. She wore an orange tank top and no bra. Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail. I had to admit that Claudia was sexy. I thought she was much sexier and more attractive than my own boyfriend.
"Here!" She handed me a large glass filled with juice. "You deserve it. You've worked hard today."
"Do you have anything else to do?" I asked. Claudia looked around and shook her head.
"I think that's it for today." She smiled. "Thanks, Quinn."
Claudia quickly went to her room and grabbed an envelope with my payment. She had this thing about handing over money in an envelope, which I thought was a careful thing to do. I took the envelope, folded it and put it in the back pocket of my shorts.
"Be my guest." I thanked her.
Claudia sat down on the floor facing where I was and opened the bottle of beer. She drank from the neck and stared at me. Suddenly, I began to feel uncomfortable. Not because she was blatantly flirting with me, but because I was enjoying the attention.
What should it be like to be with a girl? What should it be like to kiss a girl? I imagined it would be better than kissing boys, at least as far as my own experiences were concerned.
"How's that boyfriend of yours?"
"Sam?"
"Do you have another one?"
"It's not like..." I ran a hand through my hair. "Sam's fine."
"If he knew the indifference in which you speak about him, he'd be devastated." Claudia laughed.
"He's just a guy I'm dating."
Claudia laughed even louder.
"What about that girl you told me about? The one who's the soloist in your choir?"
"Rachel?"
"That one... you talk about her with more enthusiasm than you talk about your boyfriend."
"Because Rachel... she drives me crazy. That girl has a naivety that would make you think she'd be easy prey. Only it's all illusory. While I think Rachel is too naive for a lot of things, she is endowed with a disconcerting arrogance and overbearingness. She is self-centered, Machiavellian when she needs to be. There are times when she drives me crazy... in fact, she drives everyone around her crazy."
"It drives you crazy, doesn't she?" Claudia finished her beer. "Anyone who hears you thinks you're in love with that girl."
"I... um... oh..." I choked on the juice, but that didn't seem to affect Claudia at all. "I just care about her... a lot."
"To the point of wanting her?"
"I..."
"I'm not here to judge you, dear. I, for one, like girls and boys!"
"I feel like choking Rachel when she has fits of self-centeredness in the choir. She can be absolutely annoying. But you know what, there are times when I don't know if I want to grab that girl and slap her around, or if I want to kiss her, and do things to her right on the floor of the choir room. Usually I feel like kissing her."
"Quinn Fabray!" Claudia laughed. "Who knew?"
"I don't know why I'm telling you this?" I was embarrassed.
"Because I'm the cool, sexy, pretty, older gal... and I've been through stuff like this. Believe me, Quinn, it's not an easy thing to process."
"How did you work it out?"
"Dating with the girl I liked. It didn't last long, but it was great! And it helped solve a lot of the crickets in my head. I like guys, but sometimes I feel like getting with a girl, and there's nothing wrong with that."
"I wish I had your confidence in that department." I said sincerely. "I... I think I like girls too… but I don't like guys like that. My conviction that I don't like being with guys is growing stronger and stronger."
"But you're dating a guy. Believe me, Quinn, you won't be the first or the last to go through this. It's just that there will come a time when it will really suffocate you, and it will become unbearable."
"Things are moving towards that... But I can't come out."
"You're coming out to me right now."
"I am… Am I?" I was perplexed by it. I was coming out to my client. "But, I can't come out to my mother or at school… I just can't."
"Well, the most important thing is you to come out too yourself, Quinn. The rest is consequence and things will happen in their own time."
"Yes, I think so…"
"Quinn... have you ever kissed a girl?"
"No." Suddenly my mouth was dry and Claudia had my full attention.
"Do you want to try it? I can help you get some crickets out of your head."
My heart raced so fast, I thought I was going to have a stroke sitting there on that floor. Claudia approached slowly, nullifying the short distance that separated us. She was crawling, on all fours, like a mischievous cat. That was so sexy I almost had a stroke. It made me understand Finn Hudson's problem: if I had a penis, I would have been embarrassed because I got wet down there.
Claudia held my face with unparalleled delicacy and kissed me. My brain exploded. It wasn't just any kiss: it was a revelation. Finn, Puck, Sam... none of these guys had been able to make me feel the pleasure Claudia was giving me. Her lips were soft, experienced, warm. Her tongue knew exactly what to do inside my mouth. When she broke the kiss, I kept my eyes closed for a few more seconds.
"Well?" She pulled away, but not too far.
"That was... great."
Claudia smiled and winked at me. I think she thought about stopping there, but I was impulsive. It was my turn to narrow the distance and kiss her, this time showing her a bit of my style. It was a longer, wetter kiss. I couldn't believe this was happening. So what? Claudia took my hand and led it to her breasts. It wasn't something I expected, but I didn't back down either. I just enjoyed fondling a woman's breasts for the first time.
"Quinn... do you want to know what it's like to fuck a woman?"
My brain exploded for good.
...
I was back home late at night. Claudia had given me a ride and said goodbye to me without getting out of the car with a friendly kiss on my cheek. I could hardly believe that I had had casual sex... and with an older woman. I could hardly believe that it was, until then, the best sex I had ever had!
"Quinnie?" My mom was waiting for me in the living room. I held my breath, scared to death that she would smell me. "What took you so long? You didn't even answer your cell phone. I was worried."
"We just finished the packing, and Claudia offered me a pizza afterwards." There was no lie: the job was indeed heavy, and Claudia did offer me a reheated piece of pizza after we had sex in her bed.
"But you could have warned me..."
"Sorry mom... look, I'm really tired and stinky from carrying moving boxes. I really need to take a shower."
I ignored my mother. I went upstairs, walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. When I fucked Sam, all I could feel was emptiness. But this post-fuck shower was completely different. I was feeling good. I couldn't even close my eyes and soon all the images of Claudia came into my mind. When she took me to bed, I didn't think about the age difference, since I was 17 and she was 25. That passed away. All I could remember was how pleasurable it was.
I could still feel the sensation in my breasts of her hands massaging them just right: so pleasurable I didn't even know it was possible. She kissed my nipples, sucked and nibbled them in a way that drove me crazy. She kissed and licked her way down my body, sucked my clit, until she went down to my sex and fucked me. I could never imagine, not even in my best dreams, not even when I fantasized while touching myself, how good it felt to be eaten like that. Claudia gave me the first orgasm I ever had with another person.
When it was my turn to reciprocate, I was so dazzled that I went very thirsty. I wanted to devour that woman. But with skill and a little patience, she taught me how to make a woman feel pleasure. She guided my hand and I penetrated her with two fingers, where I could feel for the first time what a vagina other than my own was like. I thought it was amazing, perfect. So incredible that I felt a crazy urge to try it. First I removed my fingers and sucked them. I liked it. Then I took the initiative, made her spread her legs just like she had made me do minutes before. First I kissed her clit, running my tongue slowly over that little mound. I thought it was amazing. Then I penetrated her again with my fingers while continuing to kiss and suck her clit. When Claudia reached orgasm, I was so proud of myself.
I was sorry she was leaving, because I would definitely repeat the experience. Or maybe I still could. I would call her in the morning, and ask if she had time for a goodbye.
Just remembering my first time with a woman, my still-sensitive clit began to throb. I was so wet. Extremely wet, and it wasn't because of the water running down my body.
I thought how amazing it would be if one day I could do that with a woman I really liked. Who wasn't merely horny. I thought about how great it would be if one day I could do these things on Rachel Berry-Lopez. Just thinking about having sex with her made me start masturbating. As I practiced self-pleasuring, I thought about how nice it would be if my fingers could one day penetrate her. I wondered if she tasted better than Claudia. I could bet she does. Then I had an orgasm under the shower.
Getting out of the shower, I wrapped the towel around my body and stood in front of the mirror. I ran my hand over it to clear the fog, but all I got was a wet, unclear image of myself. That's when I said to myself out loud for the first time in my life.
"I am gay!"
…
(Santana)
"This town is garbage."
"No. It's just small." Rachel pondered.
"Two things I still don't understand. One: why did Shelby decide to live in this hole? Two: why are we in this hole at this very moment?"
"You want a straight answer?" Rachel retorted, and I decided it was best to keep quiet. I wasn't willing to listen.
After adopting Beth, Shelby considered moving back to New York, but decided that the metropolis wasn't the healthiest environment for a single mom to raise a baby. She accepted a job offer to be a beginning music teacher at a Dayton elementary school. Then she rented a house in Troy, because it was cheaper and that hole was only 20 minutes from her job. She also left it between the lines that she chose the job in Dayton because of us, so she wouldn't be far away from us.
Shelby became a more present person after Dad died. Papi welcomed her into our home, I adored Beth, and Rachel wanted her mom in her life. There was no drama about that. For my part, as long as she kept a reasonable distance, it was fine. I didn't want to connect emotionally with anyone else. It was too painful to know that the people I loved most were abandoning me. Dad was gone for good. I would never see him smile again, tending the garden, the greenhouse or arguing with Rachel about musicals and divas.
Brittany was also leaving Lima. Uncle took the job at the Los Angeles Times as art editor. He was already there packing up to welcome the rest of the family, who were leaving permanently for the summer. It was freaking Los Angeles, full of opportunities. Besides studying, Brittany would have the chance to join the best dance companies. It was her destiny. And mine? I was inclined to accept zaide's offer. Maybe I should do the Stuyvesant test, live in New York for a year and prepare myself for Harvard. I talked to Grandpa's friend, Mr. Caleb Weiz, and he assured me that I would have a job as an intern at his company, plus any assistance I needed. If I wanted, I could even stay at his house in Kings Point. It was a huge house for an old billionaire, a widower who paid for young girlfriends. His two sons died before they could provide grandchildren to inherit a fortune. Poor unfortunate bastard: one the last of his line.
Papi was against me going to New York, of course. He accused me of letting myself be influenced by zaide. On the other hand, there was one irrefutable point: Stuyvesant was one of the best schools in the country and would open the doors to the big universities. I could choose any one. Dad, for example, dreamed of Princeton or Yale. He wasn't admitted to either. He stayed at OSU, which was very good, but far from the ideal he dreamed for himself. I never dreamed of Harvard, Yale or Princeton. But I would be a fool to deny the importance of getting into those institutions. Since Brittany would no longer be here, what was the point of staying in Lima, at a half-assed school like McKinley, knowing that New York was a real possibility?
"Turn left." Rachel looked at the GPS on her cell phone.
"This left?"
"Yeah!"
I turned the car at once. Rachel was a terrible navigator. She'd announce turns on short notice. Lucky the town wasn't much of a city and traffic was nonexistent.
"It's the street."
The street Shelby lived on was one of those neat, suburban places, with identical houses, mowed lawns, communal yards. If you ask me, it had no personality at all. The place screamed home to a bunch of middle-class cheapskates who worked like dogs to enjoy that standard of living without necessarily living it.
"I think it's that green house over there."
"Are you sure?" I drove slowly down the residential street.
"It matches the description." I pulled the car over in front of the house. I took a deep breath to build up the courage to get out the car. Who knew I was making my first official visit to my birth mother? "Take off your kippah!" Rachel commented. We were at the synagogue before hitting the road.
We barely got out of the car, and saw the front door open.
"Girls!" Shelby looked up with Beth in her lap.
"Hi Shelby." I said.
"Hi Mom." Rachel said.
I clapped my hands in front of Beth to see if she would get on my lap. She must have been cranky, or grumpy, because she turned her little face towards me. I was rejected, but in the most adorable way. Shelby, of course, laughed at our interaction. I insisted some more. It didn't work. So I picked her up off Shelby's lap and threw her into the air. Beth started laughing. There, I won the little princess. I waited for Rachel to hug Shelby before we went in. I didn't care for Shelby's hug, but I promised Rachel I would try to behave.
Shelby's home was small and functional. The living room housed the television and a comfortable couch. Beth's toys were everywhere. The bathroom was nicely decorated, Shelby's room was simple and almost spartan. Beth's little room, right next door, had bright yellow decor. There was a smaller room that Shelby labeled the messy room. There was also a small, functional kitchen with a corner table for four. Everything was in place (except the little toys in the living room), everything was very clean. It was surprising to learn that a sophisticated woman like Shelby could also be homely and organized. On the other hand, it was annoying to realize that Shelby and Rachel were alike in points beyond physical resemblance and passion for musicals. Shelby was the mother Rachel had always been looking for.
"The entrance to the basement is outside, next to the garage. But it's not worth showing. It's just a place where you have the washer, dryer, and tools." Shelby explained.
"It's a great house!" Rachel complimented.
"Is the neighborhood good?" I questioned. "I mean, it's a red neck town. Do these people have a problem with you being a single mom?"
"I don't have to share my life with any of them, Santana. I don't have anything to hide either. Or do you?"
"I don't know about your life, Shelby. Would you?"
"Santana!" Rachel warned. "We didn't come here to fight."
"You're right. I came here to play with Beth."
"Enjoy playing with your little sister while Rachel helps me with lunch. I left the pasta to cook after you arrived. Food tastes better when it's freshly made. I hope you like bolognese sauce."
"I do. But Rachel..."
"She's vegan." She cracked a smile. "I didn't forget, kid, so I bought soy noodles. There's no one to bar my garlic and oil noodles with a little basil. I made a great salad, which is in the fridge!"
Rachel smiled gratefully at the thoughtfulness. I couldn't deny that Shelby had a good hand in the kitchen, from what little I experienced. She was making an effort to keep the conversation pleasant. She wanted to rebuild a relationship that would be able to move past the disastrous first encounters we had. Rachel recounted episodes about our childhood with an embarrassing wealth of detail. I remained silent, and only spoke up when I felt I needed to defend myself.
"I'm curious about the time you were in New York." Rachel said as we finished helping in the kitchen.
"Those were the most insane years I've had in my life." Shelby said with a nostalgic air.
"What about Broadway?"
"What can I say, Rachel? I've worked on Broadway and off-Broadway productions. I also lent my voice to a local commercial. I had a shitty agent, then I had a decent agent, I met respectable directors and producers and some very shitty harassers. There are all kinds of people in this business. New York is a complex city that requires you to lose your innocence and naivety as quickly as possible in order to survive."
"Did you sleep with these guys?" I was curious to know Shelby Corcoran's dirt.
"I'm only going to tell you this, because Rachel needs to know that these things exist and that she will need to deal with them when it's her turn. Once because I wanted to join the cast of Les Mis, and I slept with the director to get it."
"That's disgusting!" I reacted and Rachel remained silent.
"I don't disagree. I made a mistake and I didn't at the same time. I was getting tired and frustrated that I hadn't gotten any leading roles after all this time trying and trying and trying. Arnold Bosh, the director, promised me a place in the play when I auditioned. He was interest in me and delivered his promised after we did that, but not as I had hoped."
"I don't understand mom." Rachel looked disappointed. "You have so much talent. Why did you put yourself through this?"
"Les Mis was the last play I did on Broadway before I left that career to go into teaching. I really had talent, that was never a question... so much so that I was cast in productions. But I wasn't lucky, I guess. As my twenties went by without me having the opportunity for a starring role, my frustration only grew. I studied, I worked and nothing! I lived in horrible places to save money, I lived with a dark side of the city because I invested much of the money I received in my education. And things just didn't happen. I slept with this director as a last attempt because I've known people who have used sex to boost their career and benefited from it. But what I say, from my own experience, is that it's not worth it. I was very happy acting, but I don't think my stardom was really meant to be."
"You decided to leave the stage just like that... out of the blue?" My sister was very curious.
"I matured this idea during the season of Les Mis. As you know, there is a cast rotation in these long-running Broadway plays. There are casts formed just for the tours, others when the play goes to other places, like Los Angeles or London. So when it came time to renew the cast of Les Mis, I wasn't invited to take over a character. I was offered a contract extension as understudy and ensemble. That's when I quit. I went into depression at that time. It was the most terrible six months I've ever spent in my life."
"How did you get through that phase?" My sister asked.
"Because I knew a producer called Timothy Starr. He died five years ago and I grieved deeply for that. He was an old bastard, but he helped me when I needed it most. He was the one who convinced me to change careers and try teaching when he asked me to help a group of beginners with singing techniques."
"And you slept with this Timothy Starr?"
"No Santana. Not all old bastards charge sex to help someone. Starr became a friend. The best and most unusual friend I made in New York. I started teaching and made a career out of it."
"Do you intend to go back to New York?"
"I got a job offer to go back to New Jersey. But I decided to stay in Ohio for a little longer."
"Because of us?" Rachel was hopeful to be the cause of Shelby's stay.
"Also this. I stayed because of you, and Santana, and Beth. Because I also wanted to have a quiet place and a job where I could go just three times a week until I restructured again between my new role as a mom and a professional. I wasn't going to be able to do that in New Jersey. The work there is just as demanding as it is in Carmel."
"I know it may be selfish of me, Mom, but I would have liked to have seen you on a Broadway stage." My sister's eyes even sparkled with stories.
"Well, I have a box of souvenirs I can show you."
Shelby went to her room and came back carrying a desk box and set it on the living room floor.
"Here is some of my little treasures." She said as she opened the lid.
Inside the box were photos of her with other actors, photos of friends, flyers, Playbills, ticket stubs, a few objects like trinkets with sentimental value, a miniature yellow cab. Rachel looks a lot like her, physically speaking, and the photos of younger Shelby only reinforced that impression. Whereas I was more and more convinced that I had inherited from my biological mother only her hair and her height. And maybe the fact Shelby and I were both left-handed. The way I am, I possibly also inherited all those genetic predispositions that nobody wants, like bunions and glaucoma.
As we explored the box, Shelby told us stories. We noticed there was a picture of her kissing a guy.
"Is this Arnold Bosh?" I showed her the photo in question.
"No, that's Peter Lawson. He was my boyfriend."
"You fell in love in New York?" Shelby turned red and cracked an embarrassed smile at Rachel's question.
"Yes, Rachel. Everyone falls in love sometime."
"What was this Peter guy like?"
"Peter Lawson was my longest-lasting boyfriend in New York. He was a musician and we used to play in the various folk bars that exist in the Village."
"Did he become famous?" I asked.
"Not at all!" Shelby laughed. "He got a formal job and then married another woman. "
"Why didn't it work out between you?"
"Sometimes, even the love you think is the greatest and most sincere, doesn't work out for one reason or another. Distance, different goals, different careers. Betrayals and loss of trust." She rummaged through the box and pulled out a K7 tape. "This here would be our supposed hit record. We wrote all the songs and recorded them in a studio owned by his friend. All in one take. The record never came out, obviously, but the proof of it is here." Shelby put the tape in the stereo.
The arrangements weren't good, the guitar wasn't well played and one could soon understand why Peter Lawson wasn't successful. The lyrics had some appeal and were enhanced by Shelby's excellent vocals. What I didn't understand was how she couldn't make it on Broadway if she seemed to have what it took: voice, beauty, poise... maybe she was just unlucky.
"Not bad!" I commented.
"A music critic would certainly have blasted this work, but this is one of the most important for me, because here are my feelings, my own words. If you want to know in depth what my life was like in New York, maybe it's simpler to listen to this tape."
"Can I have it?"
"No Rachel. This is the matrix. If you can wait a bit, I'll make a scanned copy and give it to you as soon as it's ready. Is that good?" Rachel nodded in the affirmative.
We left in the early evening. The visit was surprisingly pleasant. It was still not possible to tell whether or not Shelby was part of the family as I understood it to be one. There were things about my birth mother that still bothered me, and I didn't know how to overcome them right away.
...
January 30, 2012
(Rachel)
The visit to my mom's house was truly inspiring. I spent the evening thinking of various things we could do for regionals. We didn't make it past this past year, but it was deserved because our preparation was terrible and Vocal Adrenaline was epic. I knew Mr. Schuester was more willing to receive my ideas, so I hoped he would take into consideration one that could be the whole difference in this round. One that could take us to nationals. During our choir meeting, I asked to speak in front of the class. Everyone was there except Quinn.
"Guys, I've got an idea that might get us to the nationals. Finn, please, the drums." He smiled at me and tapped the drum box. When he stopped, I fired up. "Original songs!"
"What?" Santana was the first to question. "That's ridiculous, and I know damn well where you got that idea from! It won't work, Rachel!"
"We'd never be as good as the songs the other groups might come up with." Artie jumped into the discussion. "Imagine if someone does Bowie, Beast Boys or even Amy Winehouse, like we did at the venues?"
"It would be humiliating!" Kurt completed dramatically and Mercedes gestured negatively with her head.
"Let anyone who supports my sister's ridiculous idea raise their hand!" Santana challenged me.
No one raised their hand. Not even Finn. Not even Mr. Schuester spoke up.
"Great, now who's in favor of planning something epic for regionals using really good music?"
Everyone raised their arms. I left our room defeated. Mr. Schuester wanted to do the "Sing" number, which was just an average song with a completely different original context than the one we performed along with Coach Sylvester. My feet felt heavy and I dragged myself through the halls.
"Rachel!" I heard a voice behind me. It was Quinn.
"What?" I don't know why, but I hoped she was going to throw a slushie in my face. It would even be refreshing.
"What's wrong?" She asked with a worried look.
"Didn't Sam tell you?" she nodded in the negative. "I suggested doing an original song for the regionals. Something in our own words, our own feelings. I think that would be more surprising than if we did the usual karaoke covers arranged for multiple voices. Unfortunately no one in the choir supported it. They thought the idea was stupid."
"But that's a great idea." I widened my eyes. Was Quinn agreeing with me? Was the world about to end? "I think we can come up with better lyrics than a lot of the hits out there. Something much better than... I don't know... 'I, I love you like a love song baby/ and i keep hitting re-pe-pe-peat." Quinn did a funny Selena Gomez impersonation. I decided to get in the mood.
"Or even this one: 'So i put my hands up/ they're playing my song/ and the butterflies fly away/ noddin my head like yeah/ movin my hips like yeah.'" I did an out-of-tune and all-out Miley Cyrus impersonation.
"This one, which is unsurpassed: 'It's Friday, Friday/ Gotta get down on Friday/ everybody's lookin forward to the weekend, weekend/ Friday, Friday/ gettin down on Friday/ everybody's lookin forward to the weekend'."
We laughed.
I had never paid attention before, but Quinn had a great laugh. Then there was a strange moment. She looked me in the eye and I felt captured. She had beautiful eyes, but they never looked at me with that intensity. There was something different. I couldn't tell what.
"Well..." She broke the spell and I felt awkward without knowing exactly why. "We can get together later to work on an original song."
"That would be cool. How about we start discussing it tomorrow at lunch? I'm sure we can use this time at home to think of something brilliant."
"Perfect." Quinn cracked a smile. That was rare too. Sam and Finn walked over to us together, so we said our goodbyes. "See you tomorrow!" I said louder. Quinn looked back and waved. Then she walked hand in hand with Sam.
"Agree on what?" Finn was curious.
"A project we're going to work on together."
"Oh! Cool. Do you want a ride home?"
"No, I'm going back with my sister. But thank you. That's very kind of you."
"You're welcome." He put the half-smile on his face. "You know, Rachel, I didn't say anything, but I wanted to say that I think your idea of original music is interesting. And if there's anyone capable of showing that Santana and the others are wrong, it's you."
"Thank you, Finn. Your support means a lot to me." I wanted to add to that and say that it was a shame he didn't have the courage to defend an idea of mine in public. It was things like that from Finn that always made me relive the things my sister said about him the day Papi locked us in the bathroom together. On the other hand, that was Finn Hudson!
He leaned down and gave my lips a light, brief kiss.
"Rachel!" Santana yelled down the hall. "Come on! I don't have all day."
"I have to go... my sister..."
"Yeah, I know..." He said slightly annoyed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure."
