(Santana)
The Columbia choir was different from what she was used to in Lima. It was a different level and category, something that Schuester would never achieve. The first 40 minutes of the Tuesday meetings were for discussion and musical appreciation. I was delighted to be able to talk about and research Motown, modern pop, the political importance of punk, why the Beatles were so revolutionary, classic rockers, soul music, hip hop and many other subjects related to contemporary music. Professor Tomini would lecture for about 40 minutes, show a YouTube video or play a song and then open up a short debate, which was always lively. I thought that sometimes colleagues would get into a fight. I myself almost hit a colleague who said that Alanis Morissette was nothing compared to Joni Mitchell's work. It was an insult. Of course, I recognized Joni's importance and pioneering spirit, but I didn't understand the common logic that some people had in denigrating some things in order to legitimize others.
Alanis and Joni, both Canadian, played their respective roles in music with mastery, and each had their own historical importance in the style and content of their compositions. Joni pioneered the female voice in strong, authorial themes in the world of folk music in the 1960s. Alanis inherited this burden and contributed by updating themes to the reality of women 20 years after Joni's words. Therefore, one does not negate the other, but one is the consequence and continuation of the other.
To calm the tempers, Tomini would always spend 30 minutes on technical exercises and in the meantime he would select the main pieces he would use. The second meeting of the week was dedicated to rehearsals for campus performances and events. There was the monthly choir concert, the campus music festivals and, finally, the half-time performances at the games. But in this case, only volunteers were part and rehearsals took place on a Friday with the cheerleading squad independently of Tomini's tutelage. I was one of the student volunteers who sang one or two numbers during breaks at basketball games, mainly. But not everyone, because there was a rotation and it had to fit in with the plans of the cheerleading coordinator, who was a more reasonable woman than Sue Sylvester.
I was looking forward to those days. The choir's first performance would coincide with Beyonce's concert. I would have to rely on the British punctuality of the events organized by Columbia to get out of my performance, take a cab and rush to Madison Square Garden in Chelsea, watch the show and, at the end, go backstage to meet Brittany. My best friend was due to arrive in New York on Friday and she managed not to get booked to accompany Beyonce to her series of engagements in the city. Brittany would be free to spend time with me. Saturday would be busier for both of us, and we wouldn't see each other until practically after the concert, in case I couldn't sleep with her for some reason. On the other hand, we'd have Sunday to enjoy another series of Beyonce's engagements. Brittany was due to leave for London on Monday morning, where she would face an almost month-long tour in Europe.
I had a lot to do and show her. I looked through the notes I'd made on the moleco and I didn't like the schedule. Brittany deserved better. She always deserved better. The problem was that I would never be able to offer her anything expensive.
"You doodled again?" Andrew said in astonishment.
"It doesn't look good."
"But that script you put together was fantastic. I wanted to do it. Imagine? Sightseeing in New York avoiding all the touristy places? That's pretty cool. And I don't even get to go to those places as often as I'd like. Imagine? Going to Suzanne Vega's Tom's Diner? Dylan's music scenes? What a treat! I'd like to do that tour with you if I could."
"Too touristy."
"That friend of yours must be really important to make you so anxious about her arrival." He smiled awkwardly.
"She's my best friend who I haven't seen for months." I went back to doodling.
"I may be talking nonsense, but maybe she wants to spend more time with you for a good chat than hanging around." Andrew speculated. "Maybe a simple program where you two can sit down somewhere to talk and spend more quality time together would be better than going from place to place in the city just to get tired for nothing..." He suddenly stopped talking. I think he was startled by my frown.
The point is that Andrew was one of those geniuses who spoke the obvious where no one could see it, and things started to make sense. It was another of the aspects that made him lovable.
"When did you get so clever, you dork?"
"Sometimes I can be brilliant at these things too." He smiled awkwardly.
"Sometimes!" I reinforced and winked at him.
"So... Brittany... what's the story between you?"
"It's a long story." I smiled just thinking about her, knowing that I was so close to seeing her. "We've known each other since I was seven and we've spent all those years together like flesh and blood. I think I've spent more time with Brittany than with my own sister during that time. She was my best friend, my first love, my first secret girlfriend."
"Secret girlfriend?"
"I went to a school in Lima where bullying was the norm: the popular kids tortured the losers on a daily basis. My sister says so! Rachel suffered a lot. Brittany and I were popular girls, but not immune to bullying, so we kept our relationship a secret. Eventually, our relationship became known, especially among the choir class I was in. We split up when I came to New York to finish high school at Stuyvesant, and Brittany moved with her parents to Los Angeles."
"That's sad."
"It is a little."
"But I'm glad you're going to see each other. It must be exciting to meet someone so important again after a while."
"It's really exciting. I can't wait. The last time I saw Brittany was the night my sister had emergency surgery. Everything was so rushed. This time it won't be like that. At least, I hope not."
I said goodbye to Andrew and took the subway back home. When I arrived, I bumped into Johnny doing housework. I was startled to see my friend with plastic gloves washing the toilet.
"Hi, beautiful!" He flashed his usual smile.
"It's not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"
"Mike said the sink was leaking and asked if I knew anyone. So I came to have a look and saw that it was just some worn parts. I replaced the parts in the kitchen and bathroom sinks... only I made a bit of a mess and I'm tidying up now."
"You fix sinks too?" I could have sworn that every week I discovered a different skill in Johnny.
"I don't, I just do the basics. And the problem was basic."
"Oh..."
"If you're moving out, you have to hand over the apartment as you found it."
"Did Mike call you crying by any chance?" I opened the fridge and offered him a beer.
"He mentioned the conversation you had a few days ago."
"The conversation Quinn had a few days ago."
I got myself a beer and opened the bottle. That day, Quinn basically went on about how difficult it was to live with four people in a small apartment, and that she and Rachel would like to find a place of their own. I almost panicked at that point, but then came my sister's remark that I, like a piece of furniture, would be dragged to the new place, wherever it was. I couldn't have any say in the matter, as Quinn made a point of emphasizing between the lines, or I'd become a homeless ciollege student.
"Has Mike commented on whether he's going to stay here or find a new place?"
"He didn't talk to you?" Johnny sat down with me on the sofa to talk. "He's obviously pissed off, but as I told him: it'll be good to have the experience of living alone. He'll only grow with it. Here, he had three sisters doing most of the stuff and little responsibility."
"Making the pancakes is a big responsibility!"
Johnny gestured for me to toast the beer with him. That's how he used to do it when he agreed to something and had beer in hand. I looked at my watch and was surprised by the late hour. Mike and Rachel should be at work, and Quinn god knows where. I send a text message to find out their whereabouts.
"Dinner with sponsors. I'll be back later." - Ray
"At the bar with a girl. Don't expect me." - Mike
"Seeing houses." - Quinn
"Looks like they're all busy at the moment. Would you like some frozen food, instant noodles or pizza?" I offered Johnny.
"Pizza's fine, San. I'll help pay for it."
We ordered a large one and enjoyed it. We had another beer while we watched TV. I had some studying to do, but I decided I'd have the rest of the week off. No college assignments until Tuesday, because I was sure I wouldn't be in an emotional state on Monday. Linear Algebra and Econometrics could take a back seat. The best thing was to have a lot of fun with Johnny doing Beavis and Butt-Head on VH1's music video program, cretinous giggling and all. Johnny only left when Quinn came home looking tired. She went to her room, dropped off her things and, without saying much, swallowed a piece of cold pizza.
"Beer?" I offered.
"You know I don't drink beer." Sometimes Quinn answered so rudely that I wanted to slap that idiot upside the head. But as I knew our days weren't easy, I simply took a deep breath and didn't comment.
"How was your visit to the houses?"
"I saw some good options. If I were you, I'd start organizing your things. Not that we have much to pack apart from clothes and books."
"Wow, have you closed the deal yet?"
"I haven't closed the deal yet. But I want you to know that we're moving soon."
"Okay..."
Quinn never helped me feel better. It's not that our apartment is good, and it's not that I don't recognize that some things have gotten out of hand, but I fixed up the place where we live when we got here. It wasn't easy one day to have a say and the next to just bow my head and obey, because I didn't have much in my pocket. Quinn started to act as if she could boss me around, and that annoyed me to no end. You know that experiment at an English university that students have to play the roles of prisoners and jailers? And that the jailers began to physically and psychologically abuse the prisoners simply because they could? That was Quinn. She was the jailer, and I was the prisoner just because I'm not working and living by papi and Rachel's costs.
I knew that Rachel and Quinn were looking for an apartment of at least four rooms (two bathrooms desirable) with a rent of between 2,500 and 3,000 dollars. Rachel had been talking to Papi, and he said he would pay my share of the rent, since I was the only one of his daughters who studied and deserved his financial help. As this amount would still be a smaller contribution than they would pay, it left me in the same position.
I had other options. I could stay with Mike and work part-time. Or I could share the rent with Izabella and Lucy and become a stripper. On second thoughts, my hands were tied. I had to face the reality that if I really wanted to study without hassle and do well in college, I would have to live with Quinn and Rachel for now.
...
February 13, 2012
(Quinn)
I was swamped with things to do. Rachel and I shared the tasks of looking for a new apartment. She would visit properties in the morning or on her days off. If she approved, I would also go to the place at a time available in my schedule, i.e. lunchtime between college and work, or after seven in the evening, when the realtors were short on patience and humor because they were no longer in business hours. The problem was that Rachel liked the more luxurious apartments. She still didn't understand that we had a rent ceiling, even though she earned 10,000 gross a month.
In order for everything to go smoothly for her and me, we set the rent ceiling at 3,000 euros. Unfurnished apartments were cheaper, and we were willing to take on one of these because of the savings we had made where we could buy second-hand furniture little by little, since these apartments always offered a full kitchen. Initially, we would only have to buy the beds, and then it would take us a while to buy the rest of the furniture. What was certain was that, this time, we wouldn't have furniture taken from the dump or from church charity bazaars, as Santana did due to an absolute lack of money. It wasn't going to be our reality this time: we might even have second-hand furniture, but all in perfect condition and offering a unity in the decor. I wanted something to call home, not an arrangement that looked more like a poor student dorm.
Rachel liked a three-bedroom, two-bathroom Gerritsen Beach apartment in Brooklyn for 2.6 thousand. The property was beautiful, but far from everything. The value for money wasn't worth it. We found another in Park Slope, where I wanted to live, but the apartment looked and smelled old. There was another neat one in Chelsea, but it was the same size as the one we lived in: just because it was in Manhattan. Of course, she'd seen a stunning one in Murray Hill, but hadn't noticed that it was priced at 4,000 dollars. Rachel had her head in the clouds because of the success of the play and thought that she could do anything, that the play would be eternal. It wasn't quite like that.
Mike was also going to move out of that old apartment. But he was a more pragmatic guy: he was going to rent a small, functional one-bedroom apartment. He didn't need more than that. Mike said that given the plans to move, as well as the good salary, he was going to live on his own to experience it. I thought that was great.
My phone vibrated.
"Quinn?"
"Rachel? What's up?" She avoided calling me in the mornings when I was in class. A sign that it was something serious.
"I have a casting meeting now for an interview about the play and I need you to go and talk to a realtor for me now at half past ten."
"In half an hour?" I freaked out. "Rach, I'm going to class and I have a meeting with a realtor at noon in Harlem."
"But this is in Park Slope!" I thought better of it.
"What's the address?"
"479 4th avenue. It's between 11th and 12th. The realtor's name is Eric Lesley. He said he only had those hours. Sorry."
"I'm on my way there."
"Okay, let me know."
I left college flying. Getting to Park Slope was easy because of the subway lines, even though it was farther than my current address. I ran to the subway station and took a line towards Brooklyn. The address Rachel had given me was close by. I looked at the clock: it was 10:40. I prayed that the realtor was still there. I found the building and it was pretty ugly. It was one of those solid red brick buildings that must have been about 80 years old. It faced a two-way avenue, but there were no shops below and no noisy bars around, which could have been an advantage. I knocked on the hall door and a bespectacled man came to answer.
"Mr. Lesley?" he nodded. "I'm Quinn Fabray and I've come to look at an apartment."
"Oh, Miss Lopez said you'd come instead, but I thought you'd given up." I said in a mixture of scolding and joking.
"I'm sorry, but she told me at short notice and I had to rush over here."
The realtor smiled and pointed to the stairs. I preferred a building with an elevator, but it was very difficult to find a perfect property.
"This is a building built in the 1940s, but it's in excellent condition." The realtor began as he opened the door. The information didn't surprise me because thousands of buildings in New York were very old. "It underwent a general renovation last year. All the wiring and gas pipes were replaced."
When he finally led me to the door, I was a little dismayed by what I saw. The living room was a good size, the apartment was freshly painted and looked cozy, but it was dark and the air was heavy.
"The floors in the living room and bedrooms are all oak. It's rare to find something like that these days." It was. I'd been to enough apartments to know that the information was true. We moved on to the kitchen, which was isolated from the living room, which I also liked. "The kitchen is very functional and elegant in dark wood. It also has a washing machine and dryer." These were facilities that not all apartments had. "The landlords also left the kitchen fully equipped for rent, which is another plus." Not so much, because the kitchen used to be complete, with or without the addition of a microwave. In any case, it was a good, well-distributed space. The realtor led me to the bedrooms. They were both the same size and a bit narrow. "As it's an open-plan apartment, the bedrooms overlook the green area behind the buildings. It's a very pleasant environment."
Finally, he showed me the bathroom, which was small and simple. It really was a nice apartment, but only slightly better and bigger than the current one. It wasn't right, anyway. I didn't want a low-rise apartment like that facing a major avenue and my idea was a two-bathroom one, even though I knew it would be difficult with the ceiling I'd set for the rent.
"Something tells me you didn't like it." The realtor smiled mirthlessly.
"It's a great option in one of the neighborhoods I'd like to live in, although it doesn't exactly face the avenue, and it's within budget."
"May I ask how many people you'll be living with?"
"With my girlfriend and her sister."
"So you're not looking for ordinary roommates. Would you also like double facilities?"
"That was my wish. Something for a couple with an unwanted 19-year-old kid."
The realtor seemed to think of something and picked up his cell phone. He excused himself and called someone. He chatted for five minutes while I took another spin around the apartment.
"Miss Fabray." He turned to me. "Do you have any restrictions on living in Queens?"
"It depends on where."
"Would you mind driving me to another property?"
I hesitated. Accepting a ride from a stranger wasn't a good policy in that city. But my intuition was telling me that it might be a good opportunity. I accepted the ride. We got into a Ford sedan and Mr. Lesley, a middle-aged man with a good family man's manner, turned on the radio to a jazz station.
"Do you like jazz?"
"It's not really my style." I smiled. "My girlfriend loves standards. I think she knows all the tracks made for musicals. Her sister likes the divas Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone. I'm a white girl."
"Do you like country music?"
"Not that much. I like black music, black performers, but what I like to listen to in my day-to-day life is pop and ballads."
"If you like this kind of music, I can change the station."
"No need. It's very good music here."
No jazz diva was playing. What was on the radio was the cool version of the genre, the variation invented by the great and controversial Miles Davis. The traffic was calm outside the island, so we arrived in Queens, in the Astoria neighborhood, and went to a street that was nice and cozy. Mr. Lesley pointed to the tall building. We got out of the car and he met a girl.
"Miss Fabray, this is my colleague, Mrs. Ayer. She has the key to the apartment I'd like to show you." I held out my hand to greet her.
We took the elevator with the button pressed to the sixth floor. In the hallway we went up to the apartment and when Mrs. Ayer opened the door, my eyes lit up. I was standing in front of an apartment that was perfect for what I wanted. The entrance door was next to the small kitchen, but with enough space for at least two people to move around without bumping into each other. The counter separating the kitchen from the living room was made of dark stone and showed no signs of wear.
"The kitchen was recently renovated." Ayer began to explain while I checked out the cupboards. They were all good, not to mention beautiful. From the sink/counter, I looked into the white, well-lit living room. It was a great space and I could already see a place for a sofa, a rack, a television and some paintings. "The bathroom has also undergone recent renovations." She continued the tour and I went into the bathroom, which was small but still bigger than the one in the current apartment, as well as being very beautiful and well laid out. You didn't have to put your knees against the toilet to open the door. The sink was on a small counter with a cupboard, a large mirror, lights above it and even paintings that harmonized well with the environment. Opposite the bathroom was a tiny hallway. To the right was the walk-in closet and ahead was one of the bedrooms. I entered it. "The floor is all oak and, as you can see, the owner left the curtains. They're new, but you can of course replace them. All two bedrooms have a balcony and are painted in this greenish gray tone, but the suite is larger, of course."
"Did you say suite?" I asked with a giant smile on my face.
We left that room, which was much brighter, airier and twice as big as the one we'd been staying in for a long time. In the room there were two doors side by side. One in Venetian style hid the washing machine and dryer. The other, smooth and white, gave access to the suite, with two windows, a balcony and a small closet, but with enough space to fit Rachel's and my clothes. The suite's bathroom wasn't much bigger than the guest bathroom, but it had a bathtub, which sparked my imagination. That apartment had the perfect layout: a small but decent kitchen, great living/dining room, a bathroom with a shower, but with plenty of space, and there was a living room between the two bedrooms: in other words, no wall-to-wall contact, which would make me much more comfortable with my Rachel. Not to mention that we would be occupying a suite!
"The windows are anti-noise. The big disadvantage of this apartment is that it's not for people who like dark environments." The realtor smiled. "The previous resident was the owner himself. He's an interior designer, and he only put top-notch materials in here."
"I could tell." I smiled. "I mean, the apartment is top-notch and very tasteful."
"Yes, he bought another, bigger property right here in Astoria. We helped him find the perfect space."
"I'm glad!"
"Well... this building offers bicycle storage, a gym, access to the roof deck which has an excellent view of the island, concierge service, as you saw below and a recreation area, and a party room. The building is new, the apartment was bought off the ground by the owner, everything in it works properly and the maintenance is up to date. The Astoria metro station is relatively close, but there are bus stops right across the street."
"How much is the rent?"
"It's 2,940 a month. The price is promotional, because the owner wants to rent quickly. Water, electricity and gas are charged per apartment."
"Where do I sign the reservation contract?"
...
(Rachel)
Quinn complained that I wasn't trying hard enough to find a new apartment. That was untrue. The point is that her ideal home is not the same as mine. I'd pay the rent on a four thousand dollar apartment in Murray Hill. She thought differently and wanted something cheaper so she could share the rent equally. I didn't understand Quinn's pride, but I was tired of arguing. I picked up an ad for an apartment in Park Slope, where she wanted to live, and saw that it might be ideal. I was willing to do her bidding and I made an effort to like the idea.
My phone vibrated on a morning when all I had to do was visit yet another apartment in Park Slope. It was Emily, the R&J press officer who works for the play. She was reminding us of an interview that I had completely forgotten about. I don't know why I didn't write the appointment down in my calendar, I'm always very responsible about these things. Anyway, I was forced to call Quinn to go to the meeting with the realtor instead of me.
I put on an outfit, combed my hair, put on some light makeup and left the house in the direction of the old metro station. Within half an hour I was at the Public, where I met up with some of my playmates. I met up with Lucas, who quickly became the closest person to me, largely because of our characters, who were lovers, and that required us to have good chemistry and friendship.
"The little one's here!" Lucas celebrated.
"Hi, big guy!" We exchanged a hug.
"Great, Lopez's here." Emily, as always, came up to us, dressed smartly and with the radio in her hands. "We can start."
"What's this about?" I asked and Emily looked at me as if I were an alien. I realized that I should think about hiring a press and media assistant.
"It's Broadway Express podcast."
Broadway Express was a huge new website specializing in theater. It was put together by some of New York's leading critics who combined credibility with a young and attractive style. It soon became a hit because of the new people who started working under the tutelage of these renowned critics. The podcast was a hit on YouTube. Our make-up artist gave us a boost before we sat down on ottomans arranged on the stage. The B.E. team was small, limited to the two technical people who would be recording the podcast, the producer and Phill Brazol, who was one of the young commentators. He chatted with us briefly and jotted down a few things on the pad before starting to record. It wasn't live, but Emily always imposed a time limit, otherwise we'd be at the mercy of the journalists for eternity.
"There's nothing better than spending a day this late winter in Mahanttan with today's hottest young cast. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with the cast from Across The Universe, a great show currently playing at the Public." We waved in the meantime. "So, guys, the play is the first high-profile one you've done, right?" Most of us nodded, except Steve.
"I'm an older guy, you know? I'm the elder of the cast."
"Can you say how old you are?" Phill challenged.
"I'm 27 years old." We applauded. "The truth is that the cast is young, but very well selected and close-knit. We're all friends and the chemistry on stage couldn't be better."
"Rachel." I became alert and straightened my posture. "You're the youngest member of the cast, correct?"
"Yes. I turned 19 in December." I heard shouts from my colleagues.
"Did you really come all the way from Ohio to New York to audition?"
"It was almost like that. I was in a choir at my old school from Lima, Ohio, and we came to compete in New York. That was almost three years ago. Roger Benz was there and handed me a card calling me to audition for the play Songbook after he'd seen me. Well, I auditioned, got called back and ended up staying in the city."
"Did you graduate from high school in New York?"
"Yes, my twin sister came to study in New York anyway, because she's a math genius. So my father allowed me to stay in the city too. And I was already working on Songbook anyway."
"Are you all from other cities?"
"Nick and Steve are from here." Sarah replied. "I'm from North Carolina, Rach is from Ohio, Lucas is from..." She snapped her fingers to remember.
"Washington State. Go Seahawks!" He shouted proudly.
"And Heather is from Arkansas." She added.
"Did you come with your families? How was your arrival in the Big Apple?"
"Dude." Lucas began, "I came as a roadie for a band I worked with. But then we had a fight and the band dumped me in New York. I was too embarrassed to call my family to send me money, so I decided to live the adventure. I worked in a record store and slept in the store's storeroom, meanwhile doing some auditions. I'd been working as an actor in Seattle since I was 13, but I'd never left the state. I was called back on my second audition and never stopped since." This was a recurring lie in interviews. Lucas came to study theater and graduated from the University of Brooklyn.
"What paper for?"
"Tree!" We laughed. "I was the big talking weeping willow in Twigg, which was a children's play."
"Did anyone else have to work at other things before making a living from theater?"
"I worked as a nanny during the day and sang in a bar at night." Sarah said.
"I was a horse handler's assistant." Steve smiled, but that was a lie he sometimes told to make interviews more interesting. "I basically cleaned the stables."
"Does anyone in the cast live together?" Lucas and Nick raised their hands.
"We share an apartment in the Bronx." Nick explained.
"Party almost every day!" It wasn't exactly true, but it was another thing Lucas liked to say to make him more attractive.
The interview dragged on a little longer without changing the shallow tone. Over time, I learned to automatize certain answers, especially how grateful I was to be part of that cast. Which was no lie. After recording the podcast, I said goodbye to my colleagues and just wanted to go home, take a nap and rest before having to go back to the theater for two sessions. I took a cab back to Brooklyn. I went upstairs with heavy feet. To my surprise, I ran into Quinn. I was betting that she would meet the realtor and then go straight to work, but it seems that she had changed her plans.
"I take it you liked the apartment." I said before quickly kissing her on the lips.
"Yes, I did, but not the one in Park Slope." I frowned. "Rach, how do you feel about living in Queens?"
"What? Since when do you want to go to the suburbs?"
"It's not the suburban Queens I'm talking about. I found a beautiful apartment in Astoria. It's well located, the building is new, it offers all kinds of services, such as a gym, a leisure area and a terrace. If we want to have a party for more people, for example, we can just book the room. And best of all: it's within our budget!"
"That's..." I was taken aback. "Well, we can think about it..."
"I left a deposit for the pre-contract."
"What?" That was definitely a surprise and I didn't know if I liked it.
"I've made an appointment with the realtors tomorrow at the building to show it to you. I'm absolutely sure you'll love it!"
Quinn was so enthusiastic that I didn't want to take my anger out on her for all this negotiating ahead of time for something I hadn't even seen. I took a deep breath and counted to ten.
"Good. I need to have a nap. I'm tired and I have two sessions today..." I retired to my room.
"Rachel..." Quinn held my arm. "What's wrong?"
"How can you sign a contract without consulting me. Aren't we in this together?"
"You didn't hear me right. I just gave them a sign! A guarantee that they won't rent the apartment to someone else until we've made up our minds. That's all, Rach. I wouldn't do any of this without you and if you don't like the apartment, it's settled, we'll keep looking. All I want is for you to come with me tomorrow morning to see the property. I've even brought the photos!"
I sighed. Quinn was so enthusiastic that I gave in. We sat down at the table in front of the computer and she began to explain everything there was that the photo didn't show. In fact, it looked like a very nice place. The main door was a small hall that gave access to the kitchen and living room. To the right of the living room was the access to "Santana's bedroom" and the guest bathroom. To the left of the living room was the door to the suite. I found it interesting that the bedrooms were not wall-to-wall. The laundry area was a built-in space, which sounded impractical to me, but Quinn assured me that the building also had its own laundry room because not all apartments had such a space. The kitchen was already equipped and the cupboards were new. All we needed to do was carry our microwave. It seemed to be a good place, on a good street, well located in Astoria, Queens.
"Okay, tomorrow I'll go with you to see this apartment."
Quinn gave me a gentle kiss on the lips and smiled.
"You're going to love it, Rach. I'm sure we're looking at our next home."
"Okay... but right now I really need to get out of these clothes, take a shower and have a nap."
I kissed my girlfriend once more and went into the bedroom. I found my sister lying on her bed while humming a song she was listening to on her headphones.
"Hi, Ray."
"Hi Santy. Looking forward to the big day?"
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep properly. I'm going to see my Britt, Ray."
"Yeah... you will." I kissed my sister on the cheek, grabbed my towel and headed for our small, messy bathroom. I kept thinking under the shower that by the end of the month I wouldn't be complaining about the morning commute. The idea sounded… good.
...
February 14th, 2014
(Santana)
I could barely sleep with anxiety. I woke up at seven in the morning. I was finally going to see my Brittany, this time with time to spend with her: almost an entire weekend. I went over a few things in my head. She would be arriving mid-morning along with Beyonce's entire team, but we would see each other at the hotel, because it would be quieter than the confusion at the airport. The security guards would never let me near it, even if Brittany was there to get me inside. So the hotel was better. I sat cross-legged on my bed. My stomach was aching. I watched my sister around the room to distract myself. She was getting ready to go out, but I had no idea where.
"I've booked tickets for Britt tonight." Rachel said as she picked up her bag. "Do you think she'll agree to have dinner with us?"
"I'll call you to confirm, but I think it's on."
"You're not sleeping over, are you?"
"You and Quinn can start celebrating." Rachel laughed.
"Good luck, Santy."
I rubbed my eyes and started getting ready for the big day. I had coffee and washed the dishes, while Mike spent his eternity in the bathroom, probably masturbating. He too would soon be moving out on his own. I looked at the clock. It was still half past nine in the morning. I regretted not going to Columbia. At least I'd have my friends to distract me. I picked up a book, but I didn't have the concentration to read it. I started browsing the internet aimlessly. Nothing interested me. Mike left the bathroom smelling nice and tidy. He said he was going to a professional appointment and gave me a kiss on the cheek before leaving. Good for him. I looked at the clock once more. Ten o'clock. Time was ticking away. I turned on the television. Nothing. I turned on the radio. The programming was garbage. My cell phone rang. Brittany's name appeared on my screen and my heart raced.
"Britt!" I said almost out of breath.
"San, hi, I'm in town." It was a delight to hear her voice.
"That's great. Did you have a good trip?"
"It was fine... San, write it down: I'm at the Ritz-Carlton. It's in front of the Central Park. Do you know where is it?"
"Of course!"
"I've booked a room just for me this time. When you arrive, call me on my cell phone and I'll come down to reception to pick you up."
I went into the bathroom and got ready at breakneck speed, but I made sure I smelled nice and pretty for my Brittany. I took the first available cab and headed for my destination right in the city center. I could barely see the landscape from the car window and the impression I had was that the fifteen-minute journey had taken forever. The city seemed more gridlocked than ever, but it was only a red light. My heart felt like it was going to explode when the taxi driver stopped in front of the hotel. I paid the fare and didn't even bother with the change, something that would have been inconceivable in any other circumstance. I picked up my cell phone.
"I'm here!"
"I'm coming down!"
The world stopped when a beautiful blonde woman with incredibly blue eyes pulled up to me. I was speechless. We just hugged each other tightly in front of the hotel reception. Eternity was welcome this time.
"There's so much I..." I was silenced by Brittany's index finger on my lips.
"Talk later."
Brittany took my hand and led me into the hotel. The room she was staying in was one of the simpler ones, with a double bed and a bathroom. I imagined that Beyonce's was one of those luxurious ones bigger than my house in Lima. My Brittany wouldn't care about such things. Neither did I. All she wanted was for us to have the privacy we needed. As soon as she closed the door, we started kissing as if we wanted to devour each other. It was delicious. It was even better when Brittany lifted my dress, ran her hand over my thighs and pulled my legs apart so that I crossed them around her waist. Then she carried me on a short journey to the bed. I was in heaven. Happiness was going to explode in my chest.
"You don't know how much I've missed you." She took off my dress, pulling it over my head. I wasn't wearing a bra, and Brittany didn't shy away from attacking my breasts with her mouth. I moaned with happiness and pleasure.
"It's not fair." I complained in a hoarse voice a few minutes later. "You're wearing too many clothes."
I sat down on the bed and made a point of slowing down. I took off her blouse, bra, pants and panties. I remained kneeling, admiring the sight. Brittany was stunning. I reversed our original positions. She was now on top and I made sure to take advantage of this before I made my final move. I kissed her slowly, sensuously, then her neck while my hands missed her breasts and the rest of her body. I also allowed my mouth to miss those beautiful pink nipples.
"San, now you're overdressed." She slipped her hand under my panties, which were completely ruined by then.
I smiled and allowed her to remove it. Then my mouth longed for the taste of Brittany. It was so good to see how her body reacted to the touch of my tongue and my hands roaming over her legs, breasts and the sexiest abdomen I've ever seen.
"San..." She pulled my head away. "You have to stop or I'm going to come."
"That's my intention." I smiled and didn't shy away from continuing my caresses.
"But I'd like us to try this together after all this time."
That made my heart stop for a second. I cracked a smile.
"Do you miss our scissoring?"
"A lot!" She smiled and we changed positions.
It was delicious to feel my sex against hers after so long. I hadn't even realized how close I was too. We started to move and I rolled my eyes with pleasure. We were both so wet that the friction between our sexes was easy. I came first, but made an effort to keep moving soon after. Then Brittany came and I was able to lie down next to her to breathe for two seconds.
"That was..."
"Spectacular!" She completed my sentence.
"One more round?"
"This time, I want you to fuck me mercilessly."
I laughed, turned sideways and kissed Brittany passionately as my hand slid down. Exploring Brittany's body was like riding a bike: impossible to forget. In the same way, she knew the ways of my body better than anyone else. She had knowledge of all my buttons that not Puck, not Paul, not Matt and not even Izabella were able to fully decipher.
When I felt her channel contract around my fingers, I slowed down to help her orgasm until the effect wore off.
"I need to taste you too, San."
"Your wish is my command!"
I lay on my back and spread my legs so that my Brittany was between them. The thing is, I was so turned on that I lasted very little, yet Brittany didn't stop and continued to fuck me until she herself was satisfied.
"I think I've gone blind!" I smiled after recovering from my last cum. "I can't move my legs!"
"I'm ready for another round." Brittany hugged me tightly.
"Let me breathe first. I don't have that cheerio shape anymore."
"You look perfect to me... as skinny as ever... only softer."
"I'm not that skinny." I pretended to be offended.
"Oh, but you are." Brittany scratched me a little, which was a bad idea because my body was ultra-sensitive after intense sexual activity.
"I had planned a script of things to do to entertain you." I smiled as I played with her fingers. "But your plan was much better."
"What were you thinking?"
"Showing you the city, my favorite places, eating churros and chatting..."
"Since I started working with Miley, and now with Beon, I've traveled to so many places. You wouldn't believe it. I think I've spent more time in an airplane than you could ever imagine."
"Isn't that nice?"
"It is and it isn't. For me, the cities aren't that different from each other. I spend more time with the other dancers: we go out, drink, dance in a nightclub. That's when there's time. Sometimes I only know the airports and hotels... and the concert venues. Beon has a private jet, but the team travels by commercial aircraft. So I started looking more at the airports than the cities themselves."
"I've never noticed airports. Only the check-in queues."
"There's always some story going on there."
"Tell me one?" Britanny adjusted her body against mine, as if she wanted to lull me to sleep.
"Once, in Portland, I saw a family crying a lot. They were hugging a little girl. They held her little face and kissed her, saying loving words. After a while, the girl said goodbye, her face was red and she was sobbing. The family stayed in the lobby until well after the girl had passed through the boarding gate. Then I approached and asked one of the people why they were crying so much. The girl lived in Oklahoma. She had traveled to Oregon to donate her spinal cord because she was a match for a boy who had leukemia. So they did the transplant and said that the marrow worked, or something like that. So the boy now had a chance of living and it was all because of that little girl. The whole family made a point of taking her to the airport because they were so grateful that she existed. And that she would be part of that family forever. That's why they were so emotional."
"It's a nice story."
"I liked it too."
I looked out of the bedroom window and noticed that lunchtime had already passed and I was hungry. I rolled over and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost half past three in the afternoon. In other words, we'd spent four hours in that bed, in a delicious sexual marathon.
"Rachel has booked tickets for the play for you to watch. You don't have to go if you don't want to..."
"Of course, I want to see Rachel sing. I miss her and her voice. What time is the play on?"
"Nine o'clock. Last session this Friday."
It was tough, but we gradually got out of that bed and headed for the bathroom to shower and do other things. But no fun business, not least because we needed to take a breath. Me, especially. She put on a nice casual outfit and we went downstairs to get something to eat. We avoided the hotel because of the other dancers and people working on the tour. Brittany wanted to disappear that day and not be remembered just to have the day with me.
I took her for a snack at a good diner in Manhattan, taking advantage of the fact that Rachel had left some money in my wallet so that I could enjoy the city with Brittany. We had a juice and a sandwich, while she told me more stories about her tours and the dance company she was part of. One of the members of the company was a guy called Jim Belford, a dancer who was almost six feet tall and graduated from Julliard. Because of his connections, once a year he would invite teachers and some of his former colleagues to run a week-long intensive dance workshop exclusively for the company's dancers. Brittany said she attended two of these workshops, which she barely had time to eat, but which were simply spectacular.
Brittany wanted to see the Columbia campus, so we went there. As we walked around the central square of the ever-busy campus, I told her some of my college stories. They weren't as exciting as hers, after all, all I had to talk about were classes, books, my classmates, parties and how stressful and hard it was to study there.
"...and this semester I decided to join the choir." I told her as we sat on the steps of South Lawn on campus.
"Oh, you didn't say you were singing again. That's very good, San."
"It's what keeps me from going crazy! The pressure in here is too much."
"Nothing your big brain can't handle."
When it got dark, we went to the Public in NoHo. The cab stopped in front of the imposing, historic brown and red building, with arched windows and doors, with banners of the plays hanging from poles. Old on the outside and beautiful on the inside, with white paint and large columns. The ceiling was framed and the chandeliers were elegant. I was used to this landscape, but Brittany observed everything with a certain fascination. We entered the largest room, and I was glad Rachel had remembered about the fourth row. Sitting in the gargoyles was for amateurs and fanatics, something for the ATU fangirls who shouted Steve and Nick's names. We found Quinn settled in the armchair. She smiled when she saw her old friend. The last time they had seen each other, months before, was in an odd situation, in hospital, when Rachel had an appendicitis.
The play began and Brittany was enthralled by the story. She didn't know the movie and I spent our time in the cab explaining the plot. Brittany wasn't a Beatles fan either, despite the long music appreciation classes she was still giving in Lima. For Brittany, "Obladi Oblada" followed by "Yellow Submarine" were tracks she sometimes chose when we were having vaginal communion. But Brittany's favorite Beatles song was "Lucy in The Skys With Diamonds" because of the movie "I Am Sam" with Sean Penn and Dakota Fanning. Her mother said the movie was a great inspiration.
Brittany loved the play and Rachel's performance even more. I was proud that my sister was making great strides towards her biggest dream. At the end of the play, I led her to the dressing rooms. Rachel greeted her with one of those mama bear hugs.
"It's so good to see you!" Rachel smiled.
"You were splendid, Rach!" Rachel raised an eyebrow. Since when did Brittany say splendid? "Did you see the word Beon taught me?" Brittany clapped her hands. "She keeps telling me I'm a splendid dancer." Rachel laughed and then introduced Britt to her fellow cast members.
Britt, Rachel, Quinn and I went to find somewhere to eat. Down the street from The Public, in the next block, there was the Chinatown restaurant, which used to be full after the plays, but the owner always booked a table or two for the actors and people who worked at the theater. There were even discounts. Rachel, for example, was a familiar face because of the many meals she was paid for during the months she worked at the theater with ATU. We were welcomed and sat at a table inside the restaurant. We placed our orders. Quinn and Rachel were amazed at how hungry we were. We had done a lot of physical activity during the day.
Brittany gave an overview of her life in Los Angeles. That year she decided to move out of her parents' house and started sharing an apartment with a fellow dancer, but didn't have the chance to decorate it because of her and her friend's constant traveling. She told some stories about Beyonce and what it was like to shoot the music video for Miley Cyrus' song. All in all, it was a fun evening for the four of them.
"It's time to go." I looked at the advanced time on the iPhone screen.
"It's a shame Mike didn't show up today." Brittany lamented.
"He said he's going to the show tomorrow. Johnny's going too. Have you met him?" Rachel asked.
"I did. We went to the hospital together the last time I was here."
Brittany and I went back to the hotel and I got ready to have one of the best nights of my life in the arms of my great love.
...
(Rachel)
It's rare that I see Quinn jumping around like an eager child waiting for the toy she wants, but that's exactly how she was at breakfast. Her and Santana. My sister was finally going to be reunited with the love of her life, and I could only pray that they would hit it off and not go any more years without seeing each other. My girlfriend was jumping up and down because she wanted me to see and approve the apartment in Astoria. I promised that I would go with her to meet the realtor later that morning before the hammer came down.
After kissing my sister on the cheek and wishing her good luck on her date with Brittany, Quinn and I went to Astoria. Quinn was holding my hand the whole time. When we arrived, the realtor was waiting for us. He greeted Quinn and asked if this beauty standing next to her was her girlfriend she talked about all the time.
"Yes, I'm the girlfriend." I greeted the realtor. "Rachel Berry-Lopez."
"Very good, ladies. Let's go upstairs then."
We took the elevator (the building also had a garage with one parking space per apartment). The realtor was advertising specifically for me as we went up. He opened the door and, indeed, I was in front of a very nice place. I soon noticed that it was bright and very well ventilated. The kitchen was small, American-style, with a counter facing the living room, which was reasonably large. A beautiful living room could be set up there. I liked the guest bathroom and my sister's supposed bedroom. It was the double size of the bedrooms in our current apartment. In other words, there was room for a double bed, furniture and circulation. The window was large enough to circulate the air and ensure natural light and also there is a balcony. The built-in closet was small, but it was new and she wouldn't have to share space with me, which would be a huge gain.
Quinn and the realtor showed me the suite. It was a good-sized room. The built-in closet was slightly larger than the one in the other room, but the difference was the attached closet, which was small, but would accommodate our things well. The suite also had a balcony, separated from the bedroom by glass doors that the realtor assured me they were anti-noise. I tested the acoustics and, indeed, the sounds from the street were very muffled.
"Look at the bathroom!" Quinn opened the door leading to the suite's bathroom.
If it were compared to the bathroom in our current home, it would be a real spectacle. But if it were, for example, compared to the bathroom I shared with Santana in our house in Lima: it was quite ordinary. It was more spacious than the guest bathroom and had a bathtub - whereas the guest bathroom only had a shower.
"Can you imagine the baths we'll take in this tub?" Quinn whispered in my ear.
I looked at my girlfriend and I swear her eyes lit up. It was an interesting apartment, but far from better than some I'd had the chance to visit in Manhattan. The problem was that Quinn had set a ceiling on the rent that would make it difficult for us to find such a good apartment in Manhattan or in the more upmarket areas of Queens, the Bronx and Brooklyn.
I asked the realtor to show me the building while I made up my mind. The ballroom was ideal for an event with up to 50 people, the gym had only five types of equipment, the terrace had a good view where you could even see the island of Manhattan, the inner courtyard had a modest garden and a discreet playground. The garage required good driving skills to maneuver, but as we didn't have a car, we could rent the space. The laundry room only had three washing machines and three dryers, plus a tank, but that wouldn't be a problem because the apartment had a washing machine and dryer built into a false cupboard between the kitchen and the living room. The bicycle storage room was just a room with bikes.
Despite seeing things that weren't so advantageous, Quinn seemed to be loving it there. She was so excited that I didn't have the heart to say no. If the building's facilities weren't that great, I couldn't deny that the apartment was satisfactory. So I turned to my girlfriend and the realtor.
"Okay, it's approved. Let's close the deal!"
...
February 15th, 2014
(Santana)
I'd forgotten how good it felt to be used as a pillow. Brittany was literally drooling on my breasts, but I didn't care. It was the paradise I didn't appreciate when I had it on a regular basis. If regrets could kill... I wish I could go back to the beginning of my sophomore year at McKinley, when I was kissing Brittany in her bed. She hinted that we should come out, and I had a senseless gay panic. If it were today, I wouldn't have reacted like that: I'd have made our relationship public. I wouldn't have prevented her parents from moving to California, but maybe she would have stayed in New York with me. Unfortunately, it was too late. I had a life in New York and she had a career in Los Angeles.
"San?" she said lazily. "What time is it?"
"It's early."
"Hmm." She snuggled against my body. "I wanted to spend the day here. But I have to work."
In a way, I did too. It was my first performance with Columbia's popular music choir and I couldn't miss it.
"Coffee here or in the hotel restaurant?" I asked.
"Here! I'm too lazy to get dressed."
We ordered room service and twenty minutes later we received a lovely breakfast, which we enjoyed lazily in bed. We still had time to make love one last time that morning before taking a shower and leaving that temporary nest. Around lunchtime, I went down to the lobby where I met some of the dancers and crew, including Jim Belford, Brittany's boss. From there, I said goodbye to Brittany temporarily. I needed to change and get ready for the choir performance.
I found Quinn and Rachel talking conspiratorially as soon as I set foot in the house, in the way that a person abruptly changes the subject.
"What?" I said suspiciously.
"Nothing." Rachel put on the theatrical smile that didn't fool me. "You just... weren't you going to come back on Monday?"
"I have choir today, did you forget? I need to change and go to Columbia. But what is it?" I pressed.
"Santy, there's something I need to tell you that I didn't tell you before because of Brittany." My sister said, treading on eggshells.
"Oh, how much unnecessary drama, Rach!" Quinn squawked. "Here's the thing, Santana, we're moving to Astoria at the end of the month. So please organize your things."
"Astoria?" I was slightly confused. "Have you made a deal to rent an apartment in Astoria?"
"It's a great apartment. You'll like it!"
"Oh!" Was all I could say.
"Is that all you have to say?" Rachel frowned.
"It's not like I have a vote. When I signed a contract to rent this apartment, I didn't ask your opinion about it. I simply did what I thought I had to do."
"Maybe not by choice, but you're entitled to your opinion since our father is going to help us with the rent just because of you." Rachel insisted. "You're going to live with us and I don't want to drag you to a place you don't like."
"I don't know the apartment, Ray, and I only pass through Queens to go to dinners at Mr. Weiz's house. Astoria is more or less where we are in relation to Manhattan, so just further up... It's not bad. I'd be more worried if I moved further inland to Queens. I'd even live in the suburbs if I were married with children. But Astoria is okay, and that's all I can say." Quinn looked triumphantly at my sister. "I hope that means you're going to see me in the choir." I joked. But I was sure that Quinn would attend with Johnny, since neither Mike nor Rachel couldn't.
I changed my clothes and waited for Quinn before we left in the direction of the Columbia campus. We would be performing in auditorium, which was huge. We would be the first to open for the classical choir, which was accompanied by the university's philharmonic orchestra. I was nervous, my hands were sweating. The popular choir would perform four pieces and then the classical choir would sing three more songs. I wouldn't stay to see the classical choir. I loved it, but I had the Beyonce concert to go to, so I would say goodbye with my colleagues in the interval between the choirs.
The theme chosen by the popular music choir for their first monthly performance was by female composers. First "Big Yellow Taxi", by Joni Mitchell, in a more furious arrangement than the gentle, yet political-environmentalist, original folk style. We saw that people were positively impressed, but the Columbia choir has always had a good reputation. The direction was excellent and the vocal arrangements very well organized. The choreography wasn't superior to that produced by New Directions. Even so, they were consistent with the musical piece. The band finished the last chord. The choir was all gathered in the center of the stage. A cappella, one part began to vocalize "do do do do do..." and the other part began to sing: "I am sitting/ In the morning/ At the diner/ On the corner/ I am waiting/ At the counter/ For the man/To pour the coffee..." Modesty aside, this was one of the most incredible versions of Tom's Diner, by Suzanne Vega.
Our choir was applauded immensely at the end of that piece. But the return of the band (which never left its place) made people sit down again. So I took a deep breath. I was the soloist for the next number. I went to the front and unleashed the first verses of Alanis Morissette's "Hand in My Pocket". I chose a furious interpretation, but with a vocal that was always controlled and sharp. My technique has improved a lot. I loved the applause I received, so I went back to my position and we did an acapella arrangement of Adele's "If It Hadn't Been For Love". The choir received a standing ovation. Me, my classmates and our professor hugged each other backstage. We were even praised by the classical choir. But the tightest hug I got at the time was ironically from Quinn. She seemed thrilled, as if the performance brought back good memories.
But we had no time to lose. We grabbed a cab and rushed to the Garden. The tickets we'd received guaranteed access to the VIP area, yet this privileged place was packed and we couldn't find Johnny, Rachel or Mike. While Quinn was trying to text during the show, I was just enjoying Brittany. The bounce, the body movement, for God's sake, she was hypnotic. Beyonce was an almost supernatural diva with a stunning voice that didn't need any autotune although some parts of the show she sings with a playback. There were times when I didn't know who to look at.
The group only managed to get together at the end of the show. Rachel was with Johnny. Mike was with a fellow cast member of his play. And we were all petted backstage. We got kisses and autographs from Beyonce. Rachel tried to advertise the ATU, but was silenced in a very unkind way by me. Beyonce was shocked by my gesture, but understood when Brittany explained that we were the twin sisters she had once commented on. I got an autograph and we took a picture with the diva before leaving and walking to a tiny pizzeria called Amadeus. No one had heard whether it was good or not, but we decided to try it anyway. It wasn't excellent, but it was good enough. Brittany felt happy and welcomed among the people she loved so much. She confessed that she missed Lima and the whole gang. She was especially grateful for Mike's presence, as she missed her dance partner at school.
...
February 16th, 2014
(Santana)
I woke up in almost exactly the same position as the day before, but this time there was no concert or Columbia to get me out of that room. At the end of the night, sweaty and a little sore, I decided to stop and take a breather. I took a shower and put on a Brittany T-shirt to go to sleep. I lay back down and snuggled into her arms.
"I don't want this day to end." I said in a small voice. "I have a bad feeling. That I shouldn't let you go."
"That's silly. We'll see each other soon."
"When soon?"
"Beon will finish her world tour in May, to start with the American summer circuit until the end of July. Then I think she'll take a break to take care of her family... anyway... I want to take a vacation and when I'm free, I'll come here to stay with you. What do you think?"
"It's a good plan. You can definitely stay here. Rachel, Mike and Quinn know people in the industry... you can dance on Broadway, teach classes... there's so much you can do here in New York. There's no shortage of opportunities."
"I'd like to!"
"Well?" I looked at her with hopeful eyes. "Will you stay with me?"
"We'll talk about it in August." Brittany kissed me softly on the lips.
"In August..." I repeated, feeling the pleasant sleep come over me.