(Quinn)
Good things about Rachel: not only does she love the word "precisely", she also lives it. The flight was only two minutes late. It was nice not to have to drink airport tea. Rachel was one of the first to leave the domestic arrivals hall pulling her medium-sized red suitcase. I greeted her with a discreet kiss on the cheek, even though I wanted to make a movie scene in front of everyone. Rachel was tired. She finished the play and then headed to the airport in the early hours of the morning. rachel said she only managed to doze off a little on the plane. On the way, while I pretended to pay attention to things about the tour, all I could think about was what I would do to her as soon as we set foot inside the house.
"Quinn..." Rachel tried to protest when I attacked her as soon as we closed the door. "You... can't..." She tried to say between kisses.
"Wait?" I guided her towards our bedroom.
"Quinn, it's not going to... happen... I'm dead!"
I stopped my caresses and I think I looked like a poor thing judging by Rachel's pitying expression. She kissed me lightly on the lips and brushed a lock of hair out of my face.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, my love, but right now I need a bath and a nap. Only later."
"Okay! Well... I have work to do at the R&J and I have some college texts to read. That's all right. I can wait when you're ready."
"Quinn, don't be like that!"
"Rachel. It's okay: you're tired, I have to go to work and we'll do our horizontal tango later."
"Good girl!" Rachel said to tease me a little.
I kissed her before leaving, feeling sexually frustrated at not having been able to fulfill my fantasy. But what could I do? I had to respect her wishes and her physical state. I rushed to work very hungry because I hadn't had breakfast yet. I ended up going up to the R&J's office and devouring a hot dog I'd bought from an old stand nearby. Jill, the owner, prepared the best in town. I swear!
Aaron Smith was in town and they would have some meetings with the production at the end of the week to talk about the movie and the money. That's why Roger and James were putting pressure on all of us. The production company had 10 permanent employees, plus a few others hired on a project basis, like Rachel. We were all working like crazy, mainly because of the movie. There was also the administration of the play ATU and the production of a web series, which was a project that James Golvi was going to start filming. It was one of those cheap productions where you could shot an entire season in a week.
I did my bit, as always, contacting agencies and getting a list of actors to audition for one- or two-line characters during the movie. It was important that they acted reasonably well so as not to spoil the scene, even if they were just set pieces. The auditions would be scheduled for a date close to the start of filming, and we could expect to spend 27,000 dollars on extras in Toronto. The price didn't vary much around the city, but it could go up considerably if we were to get actors in NYC. A question of market qualification. The price would jump to 30,000 dollars more. Of course, you could always get volunteers and there were still the actor friends who would do a bit just for the fun of it. Roger seemed satisfied with the projections I had made and now the work would be done by Aaron Smith's assistant casting directors. As the meeting progressed and topics that didn't interest me were put on the agenda, my patience waned. I couldn't help but start shaking my leg. The feeling didn't get any better when the meeting was over, and I knew I still needed to work on the web series.
"You did a good job, as always, Fabray." Roger met me in the coffee corner, which was a kind of pantry in a private corner of the office.
"Thanks." I forced a smile. "Roger, I know you said you'd give me an answer but..."
"About taking part as a photographer's assistant? Quinn, you know Aaron comes with a full package." This meant that each director worked with the art and photography directors of their choice, and these with the people they trusted. What I wanted was the opportunity to be part of the team. I'd even be happy if I was allowed to work for a week as a camera assistant and then go home.
"Isn't there even a chance of getting a lower job?"
"There's the web series that James is directing."
"But..."
"Frank Mirror is the director of photography."
"I know..."
"James himself is directing."
"I know, but..."
"Fabray!" Roger spoke up to me. "James hasn't talked to you yet for whatever reason, but you've been assigned to the web series team to work as Frank's assistant."
"Really?" The option wasn't bad at all.
"Really!" He patted me twice on the shoulder. "This is your chance, girl."
I couldn't resist and hugged my boss. It wasn't the movie, but taking part in a production as part of the photography team was a great chance and opportunity. I couldn't wait to tell Rachel.
"Do you have anything else to do today?"
"No, sir."
"If I'm not mistaken, the cast of the AtU is arriving from California today."
"Rachel got an early flight." I smiled.
"Oh... Don't get used to these niceties, but go home, Fabray. Go and enjoy your woman. You've done a great job around here today."
"Thank you." I smiled, but no hugs this time.
My job had a lot of problems: the pressure was great, and my responsibilities at the production company often clashed with my studies. It was very difficult to do both at the same time, but I had no choice! I always took the minimum number of credits at NYU to keep up my grades, or I'd lose my scholarship. At the same time, I couldn't falter at the R&J because it was my livelihood.
But I worked as hard as I could because there weren't many opportunities like this: I could combine what I learned at university and apply it directly in the field. Not to mention that Roger was almost like a big dad at the production company: he was a demanding guy, but he knew how to recognize everyone's efforts, unlike James, who wouldn't even look at us.
I took the subway and went home happy. Rachel was there and that was all I needed to know. I found her just outside our bedroom door with her hair messily tied up, wearing old shorts and one of my T-shirts. She was sitting on the floor sorting her dirty clothes from the clean ones to throw in the washing machine. Call me blind, sick, whatever, but to me, Rachel looked super sexy.
"Hi love! You're early." Rachel kissed me on the lips as I leaned in.
"Have you had a shower yet?"
"Yes..."
"Have you had a nap?"
"Yes..."
I sat down next to her and kissed her passionately. As I saw no resistance, I began to caress Rachel's body, the side of her breasts, her waist. She had no bra on, a habit she had started to cultivate since we moved in, because there were no men in the house, and she felt more at ease. I slipped my hand under her blouse and Rachel smiled during our kiss.
"Have I told you how much I love it that you don't wear a bra at home anymore?" I said as I caressed her breasts. Rachel took my hand away from her breasts and guided it into her shorts. I widened my eyes. "Since when do you walk around without panties too?" I wasted no time and started playing with her clitoris.
"Since when a beautiful goddess was so thirst to have me..."
I unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down. Rachel took off her own blouse while I started to take off my clothes. She wanted to get up, but I stopped her. I wanted to have her right there on the floor, among a pile of dirty clothes and our newly discarded ones.
"What do you want?" she asked between kisses.
"I want to ride your face."
Rachel agreed. We positioned ourselves so that she was lying down and I spread my legs. Rachel began to work on my body while holding my ass and hips to help control my rhythm. And how good she was at it! It was delicious, but I didn't orgasm in that position. I wanted to feel her inside. When I repositioned myself, Rachel penetrated me with two fingers. Then I climaxed.
"That was great!" I said, catching my breath.
"I'm glad."
"What do you want?" I'd gladly return the favor.
"You inside me."
"Your wish is my command."
Just as I finished giving Rachel an orgasm, we heard keys in the door. With nothing else to do, I stretched out my leg and pushed closing our bedroom door, causing Rachel to laugh at my superhuman effort. All to avoid being caught. Yes, I had my superhero ways. We made out for a while longer until we lazily got up and got dressed. We found Santana sitting at the kitchen worktop, glasses on her face (she'd started using them for reading, especially while she was on the computer), concentrating on the screen. The washing machine was working and the piles of clothes were smaller and organized. This work had started to be done by Rachel and obviously Santana had completed it. Rachel had bought Santana a desk, but she insisted on putting the computer on the kitchen worktop, where we ate our meals.
I swear Santana did it just to annoy me. She was a master at trying to push the boundaries of clutter beyond her bedroom. It was fine to use the computer on the workbench, read a book and leave it on the coffee table, or even the movie box. I even tolerated the flip-flops in the middle of the living room and the blanket forgotten on the sofa - after all, they were harmless household items. It may seem like I'm being overly picky, but if I let her, the harmless computer forgotten on the workbench would generate a pile of sheets, notebooks and a few books in a matter of a day. And if I took all that and threw it on Santana's bed so I could tidy up, Santana would complain because she'd say I'd thrown her things anyway. It was a fight that happened from time to time.
"'B-'!" Santana grumbled as soon as he saw us. "That idiot gave me a 'B-'! I got a B average in the subject and no chance of catching up."
"It's good to see you too, Santana!" Rachel kissed her sister on the head while I went to the kitchen to prepare some snacks for the three of us.
"A 'B' doesn't sound too bad." I said.
"It's just that it takes away my chances of getting the tutoring I really wanted."
"But isn't your professor an idiot?" I retorted.
"An idiot who was a director at Microsoft." Santana grumbled. "But let's talk about good things. How was the LA tour, Ray?" I overheard them talking as I picked up the bread, jam and cookies for our afternoon snack.
"Do you want to know how it was in LA or who I met there?" Rachel teased. She walked into the kitchen and helped me get juice and glasses.
"You know very well what I want!" Santana sounded impatient.
"Brittany sent you a kiss."
"That's it?" Santana became restless. "She hasn't spoken to me for a while and that's all she said?"
"She sent a kiss to you on the lips with tongue." Rachel got serious.
"Come on, Ray. You talked and she must have said something important or interesting. Just say it!"
"I told you, Santy, Britt didn't say anything to me. She just sent you a kiss, on the lips… with tongue, for me to delivery to you..."
"What? What it means?"
"Okay, but then don't complain."
Without warning, Rachel pulled her sister close and planted a kiss on her lips. It wasn't one of those kisses they exchanged from time to time. It was an open-mouthed kiss, the kind Rachel used to give me. If that was Brittany's message, I wasn't shocked. I was perplexed to see Rachel's courage in giving it up in an incestuous act. The shock made me dumb and paralyzed. But before I could regain my composure, Rachel finally disentangled herself from Santana's lips.
"That was the message." Rachel said apparently without regret, as if it had been pure theater. Santana was wide-eyed (not just her), and speechless. "Before either of you start talking, I'll tell you that this was a light version, because if I was going to take the message literally, I would have kissed Santana for longer, with a silly hand, on top of a bed, just like Brittany did to me."
"You kissed Brittany on a bed? With a silly hand?" I blurted out, more in surprise than anger. It was bad enough that I had to get used to knowing that Rachel was doing intimate scenes with other people on stage four days a week. Imagine seeing her do that with other people, even if it was "innocently"? Imagine seeing her do it with her own sister? Imagine her with her lips glued to Brittany's on a bed, complete with a silly hand from who knows where? It was a lot to take in.
"Brittany kissed me in my hotel room. Is that what you wanted to know, Quinn? That's exactly how it happened: after the session she came up to the room with me, she was really weird. We talked, she kissed me because she said she wanted to fantasize about me being Santana. Then she said some nonsensical things to me and left." Rachel defended herself. "You know Brittany, Quinn. You know she's like that." I looked at Santana, who was still motionless in her chair. I don't think she was even breathing. I thought Rachel broken her sister.
"You and Brittany..."
"NO! QUINN!" Rachel protested. "I would never do that to you!" She spoke sincerely and I could still tell that she was also hurt by my insinuation. But who could blame me? Firstly: Brittany. Second: Brittany has no concept of morality. Third: Brittany is sexy and she can seduce anyone.
"You can't blame me! I just saw you tongue-kissing your own sister!" Yes, now I was more furious than shocked. And Santana remained motionless. "How would you feel if you saw me sticking my tongue down someone else's throat? I don't know... Santana?"
"I didn't do it to hurt you!" She protested, totally ignored my question and then lowered her voice and looked at Santana. "Brittany was strange. More than she usually is. She said that kissing me was a way of saying goodbye because she can't be with you." She said to Santana. "But she didn't say why. She said she was happy because apparently we have the same cackle, whatever that means."
Now, as well as witnessing one of the most stunning scenes of my existence, I was going to have to deal with the information that, apparently, the Berry-Lopezes girls had more in common than I wanted to know? Blow the world up, please! It wasn't enough that they were particularly talented at insults (although Rachel used more words), self-centered, competitive and very emotional. Apart from the little details like the strange preference for grape jelly while the world prefers red fruit. Or black olives instead of the usual green ones.
"For a long time?" Santana finally spoke up. "What did she mean?"
"I don't know, Santy. I think you should call her. This time, insist on talking to her."
Santana left without touching the food, which was understandable, and went to her room. My heart felt like it wanted to burst out of my chest and I felt like screaming. Instead, I dropped the dinner things and stomped off in the direction of our room. I slammed the door in the process and sat on the bed, bringing my hands up to my face. I was breathing heavily, I needed to control myself. I felt like kicking something, maybe the pile of dirty clothes. Instead, I cried with rage.
A few minutes later, Rachel knocked on the door before entering. I looked at her angrily.
"If I saw you kissing Frannie, I'd think you were crazy or on drugs. If you'd kissed Brittany, I'd be jealous." Rachel said suddenly. "But I'd forgive you, because that's Britt, and you're the most beautiful woman in the world. I've known Britt since I was seven and I know that she doesn't do evil things intentionally, except when she's under my sister's influence. If you kissed Santana... I've been through this years ago and I remember how painful it was to know that Finn had sex with my sister, even though it was at a time when Finn and I were off. Only with you it would be much worse because what we have doesn't even compare. If it were anyone else, I'd feel just as helpless and heartbroken. I honestly don't know if I'd forgive you."
"Even so, you kissed someone else, and without the excuse that it was work."
"It was Santana." Her voice was still low.
"And Brittany… As if there weren't siblings fucking each other out there, especially between twins."
"Quinn." Her voice was warning. "Santana is my sister and what I did was wrong. It was a silly, thoughtless act, okay? It won't happen again, not least because I'm tremendously sorry now because I hurt you and my sister as well..." She lowered her head. "It's just that Brittany was acting strange and made me uneasy. And I thought kissing Santana would be a hilarious joke. But I see now how wrong I was."
"You could have just told Santana that!" I crossed my arms. "It didn't need the rest."
"It really didn't." She agreed. "I'm sorry, I was very unfortunate. It won't happen again." There was sincerity and regret in Rachel. "But it hurt to know that you don't trust me."
"I never said that."
"But you thought Brittany and I had done something else. Quinn, the kiss only happened because she forced an absurd situation. Britt didn't seem very sane to me, more than usual. Then there was Brittany: my sister's best friend and love of her life; the girl who had been coming to my house since she was a child and who I consider to be part of my family."
"I understood that part." I said harshly.
"I know, but I want to tell you... in fact... I want to assure you that I'd rather end everything we have before I hurt you like this. Quinn, I beg you by all means not to distrust my honesty, much less the respect I have for you. I love you and I would never deliberately cheat on you."
"Rach..." We were interrupted by knocks on our door.
Rachel opened it and we saw Santana standing on the other side, at the edge of the bedroom door without entering as if she were a vampire and needed an invitation. I thought about saying something rude, but backed away as soon as I realized she was crying. Santana took a deep breath and spoke in a choked voice.
"Britt is pregnant by her boss and they are moving in together. She's not coming to New York anymore, as she promised. I need a drink."
Funeral silence. Rachel rushed to hug her sister. It made me forget the argument and I rushed to support her too. Santana's pain must have been immense. Feeling compassion for her at that moment was a matter of doing a simple exercise: putting yourself in the other person's shoes. I imagined being in her shoes, and I imagined that Brittany was Rachel. I imagined the pain in my chest if I knew that Rachel had gotten pregnant by some guy. I would want to die at the first impact of the news. Santana must have been exactly like that.
Santana escaped from our arms and went to her room. I didn't know what was going to happen, but Rachel seemed to have a perfect idea. She ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine. We always had one or two at home, and we liked to have a glass or two every now and then. When Santana came out of the bedroom with her blouse changed and ready to get the change from the emergency money pot, Rachel held her by the arm and showed her the bottle.
"You're going to have your drink, Santy, but you're not leaving this place today. Your safety comes first."
I was shocked by Rachel's attitude, but this time in a positive way. I knew I'd have to put up with a lot of nonsense from Santana over the next few minutes, but this time I couldn't condemn her.
...
May 20th, 2014
(Santana)
"Can you stop?"
Rachel had been staring at me for half an hour and it made me nervous. All right, she was just playing the role of caring sister and even went out drinking with me on her day off. But there were limits. I wanted Rachel to understand that I wouldn't kill myself or do anything stupid because the love of my life was pregnant by an asshole. Worse, that she chose to stay with him. True, I'd like to go to Los Angeles and punch the little guy who had sex with her without a condom in the face. Damn. I wanted to hit everyone. Too bad I was still a rational being who, even with enormous and legitimate pain, had a boyfriend and end-of-semester exams to take.
Rachel helped me. She acted like a mother throughout the week. Only she, as always, took everything very seriously and the way she watched me doing my final report gave me the creeps. The only reason I didn't kick her out of my room for good was because Quinn was about to arrive and I'd love to make her a little more paranoid about catching my sister sitting on my bed "flirting" with me.
"I was thinking..."
"Here comes trouble." I grumbled and she looked offended. I rolled my eyes and sighed. "What were you thinking, hobbit?"
"It's been a while since we've walked around the city just for the sake of walking."
"It's raining." I pointed to the window. "And it's almost six in the afternoon. That doesn't sound like a good day for walking, drinking a beer and window-shopping."
"Did I say it would be today or now, asshole?"
"And you want to spontaneously go out and walk around the city on a scheduled day and time?" I started laughing. That wouldn't be unlikely coming from my sister, who could even plan her bathroom trips.
"Do you want to listen to me or not?"
"No!" I went back to concentrating on the computer screen. "Look, Ray, I really need to finish this report, and I swear I'm not emptying any bottles today. So can you get off my back?"
Rachel grumbled and I had to laugh a little. She got up from my bed and walked over to my desk. Since my room was big and it wasn't okay anymore to spread my books around the living room, as I did in the old apartment, Rachel had bought me this piece of furniture so that I could store a lot of my college stuff properly, in her words, and so that it would be comfortable enough to study. It was a simple black desk, the kind that looks like a small bookcase, with drawers next to my legs and a few shelves above. It was comfortable. I had a lamp, my books were within easy reach and my documents filled the drawers. The downside was that sometimes I felt isolated, so I would take things to study on the worktop that divided the kitchen from the living room. Rachel didn't mind, but Quinn hated it, I don't know why.
"You should change that picture." Rachel pointed to the only picture frame in the room. It was a picture of Brittany and me in cheerleader uniforms.
"I like her." I said, carrying on indifferently.
Rachel didn't argue, which was great. Instead, she put her head on my shoulder to see what I was writing.
"This looks boring." She grumbled. "You write well, but this looks really boring."
"Do you swear you have nothing else to study from the Beatles? Maybe a script to read, prepare for an audition or something?"
"You want to get rid of me so desperately?" She pretended to be offended.
"Actually, I do! I need to finish this really boring report, and it has to be done today!"
Rachel looked at me seriously as if she wanted to make me laugh. She couldn't. She grumbled and finally left my room. That was a relief. I could finally concentrate on finishing the report for Professor Harris. The tutoring experience had been excellent and was worth a lot of extra credit, as well as a small fee. Unfortunately, I couldn't repeat it in Economics 101 because of the student rotation rule. But I wouldn't miss out on seeing my closest professor, since I would be taking one more subject with him: one that lasted a year, but which was practically the entire basis of the Mathematics Applied to Economics course. I used to pick on Professor Harris a lot, and he was on my back all the time. He was almost unbearable, but if you ask me, Professor Harris became a mentor to me, and I was even dreaming up some projects to develop with him for my final thesis. We hadn't discussed it, but I already took it for granted that he would be my advisor.
Thinking about college helped me forget about Brittany and her pregnancy. My problem was never with her pregnancy, but the fact that she chose to stay with the guy. I was never upset about the child because it could happen to me. I'm dating Andrew, for example, and I have sex with him. Even if I use a condom and has an IUD, accidents happen. If I got pregnant and Brittany asked to take care of me, I would let her, I would choose her. That wouldn't exclude the child's father from my life: I would just choose to be close to the love of my life. But it wasn't as Brittany thought. She was pregnant, she was going to finish her tour with Beyonce, and then she was going to dedicate herself to setting up her home with this Jim Belford. They weren't going to get formally married, but they were going to put their toothbrushes together, so to speak. Holy shit.
I shook my head and went back to concentrating on my final report. It had to be perfect. Minutes later, as I was preparing to write the conclusion, Rachel opened the door to my room once again. I made an outline to complain about her, but I was silenced when I saw that she was carrying a tray with a snack. I really was starving. Without saying a word, she placed the food in the corner of my desk so that it wouldn't get in my way, but would be within easy reach. It was a turkey ham sandwich with cheese, a lettuce leaf (she never forgot the "green" in the sandwich) and some cream cheese. The juice was freshly made orange. Without saying a word, Rachel kissed me on the head and left my room.
I was touched by Rachel's little attitudes. I didn't always say "thank you" to her, but I repeated it every day in my prayers for having such a good sister who cared about me, even if she was a bit annoying. Truth be told, I'd be lost without her in my life.
...
May 21, 2014
(Quinn)
It's been a hell of a week with Santana depressed about Brittany's pregnancy. But what did she want? I don't doubt the love between them, but the distance and the kind of life each led tended to drive them apart rather than bring them together. There's no phone conversation in the world that avoids accidents like that. Santana herself was dating Andrew, or something close to it. Did she really think that Brittany would be in Los Angeles or traveling the world expecting her to be pure and chaste? That didn't even happen at school, when they both lived in the same city and went to the same school. Brittany kissed almost all of McKinley students and had sex with a lot of people, especially when we were sophomores. Brittany had sex with a lot of people, while Santana was all talk. It seemed quite logical that she would have sex with other people in Los Angeles, not least because she was an independent and free woman.
But an accident happened. Now there was no way out: it's time to wait for the baby to be born while thinking very carefully about its fate. And it will be Brittany and the dancer's decision, not Santana's, who thinks she's to blame and has obligations to fulfill Brittany. Rachel? My girlfriend built a wall around her sister and stood guard. Apparently, Santana had to be treated like a big child, with all the patience and care, because she was suffering.
It was difficult to understand the relationship between these two. One minute they're killing each other and the next they're in love. I don't know if it's the difference in age or upbringing or the distance itself, but my sister Frannie and I have a very different relationship from Rachel and Santana. Frannie is three years older. We were raised in molds to become the perfect American girls who would major in anything in college just to drop everything to take care of the family as soon as we got married, preferably virgins. But if that wasn't possible, everything should be done with the utmost discretion in order to meet the urgent needs of the eventual boyfriend, who was from an equally Christian family and was preferably rich. We had to be popular and desirable girls at school, homecoming queens, athletic, understand the rules of the main American sports, be on the honor roll, and be president of the relevant clubs to show how well we used our time. Speaking of time, it was too precious to waste on losers. And if we got out of line, Russell Fabray, my father, had a spanking that reminded us of all the good family principles and life goals.
Frannie tried to follow his instructions to the letter. I particularly remember one night, a few months before her graduation. Frannie had been accepted at the University of Texas at Austin. I was to inherit the position of queen bee. I went into her room and we chatted in the manner of our master/apprentice relationship. Among the warnings were things like: "Watch out for Santana. She's your biggest threat. Do whatever it takes to keep her under you at all times"; "There are no good kids at McKinley right now, the least worst for your age is that Hudson guy. He's a jerk, but he's on the school team and you should stick with him"; "Keep ignoring not only the losers, but the average ones and some of the popular ones too. The more selective you are, the better"; "It's better to lose your virginity soon"; "Friendships are for later: at school it's better to have allies."
One day, when I found myself remembering these conversations in Frannie's room, I asked Rachel if Santana ever talked about school or gave advice to each other. She said that they talked very little about school. They even avoided the subject, and I imagine that's true because of the distance between them when they were at McKinley High. But the only advice she received from Santana was: "whatever happens, keep your head up because you know you're better than everyone else".
Basically, I exchange a few messages with Frannie. I confess that I avoided her a bit after our last meeting in Lima. It's really bad having to swallow the subtle comments about how I'm the black sheep of the family. I did everything wrong in relation to what I was taught and determined. I lost my boyfriend to the girl I tortured and secretly loved. I lost my virginity to the school bully, and I got pregnant. When I was thrown out of the house, Frannie didn't give me a word of consolation at the time, and my father sold everything I owned: car, furniture, jewelry, and had the clothes I left donated. All the family jewels went to my sister. My father did everything he could to leave me without a penny in my pocket, but I accepted the terms because, deep down, I really thought I had screwed the whole family.
When I thought that living with my mother would give me my life back, I was no longer the same person, and my goals had changed. As for Frannie? She started interning for a good company in Huston and was engaged to an heir to a chain of small, roadside hotels. Santana could explain why, but it's a lucrative business. Frannie has good relations with my father and stepmother, whom I've never met. Unlike my mother, Antonia Bettes is a very wealthy tattooed woman. While Frannie's future was guaranteed and well on track, as my father had wanted, I was sweating a bit to get mine. But I was very happy living in New York, with my relationship with Rachel, and I was at peace with my choices. I just wanted my sister and my mother to recognize that.
"Two cents for your thoughts." Rachel hugged me from behind and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
"Frannie sent an e-mail. She said she's coming to New York and wants to see me." I guided Rachel to sit on my lap. Then I could bury my face in my lady's neck, inhaling her good smell. "Frannie said she wanted to see our place, she wanted to see how I live. She seemed so interested that I'm afraid."
"When is she coming?"
"Tomorrow. She said she's coming to sort out some work and that she'll have a day off on Saturday. She's staying the weekend to enjoy New York."
"You can bring her to see the play and go out to dinner with her, I'll ask tickets for the first session, and we can have Sunday lunch. What do you think?"
"Lunch? Here?"
"As long as she doesn't attack me or my family, we'll be fine. Just ask your sister to behave, or I'll be happy to unleash the dragon Santana Berry-Lopez on her."
"Well... you're a pit-bull when you want to be."
"Exactly! I'm a Berry-Lopez!"
"I'll talk to Fannie. See what the plans are. But I like your idea."
...
May 24, 2014
(Quinn)
I was looking forward to meeting Frannie. We were supposed to meet in front of the Public to get into the reserved seat together. I think I'd seen ATU about ten times and had come to understand the play as a kind of "Pretty Woman", in other words, one of those movies you watch 50 times and never get tired of. I understood perfectly why ATU had even won fan profiles. Many of the girls were screaming for Steve and Nick, and there were even ships. Rachel had hers with Lucas, but there was a colorful part of fans who would have loved her to have a relationship with Sarah, because of an interview in which Rachel came out as bisexual. If only those fans knew the truth. Rachel was in a relationship with another blonde woman and Sarah was living with her boyfriend.
"Good evening, Quinnie." Frannie surprised me by looking very elegant in a low-cut black dress and high heels. She wore her platinum hair in a neat bun. I felt underdressed next to her, but my attire matched that of the other people who had come to see the play.
"Frannie!" I hugged her quickly. "You look beautiful."
"I really am." She said with her usual lack of modesty. "And you don't look bad. I swear I'd have to look for a new hippie or see you in jeans chewing gum with a rainbow keychain."
"I'm grateful that you don't stick to stereotypes." I raised an eyebrow. "We're on time to get in. Let's go?"
It was another quiet night at the play. Rachel was great, as always. It's a shame that no one from ATU actors was individually nominated for the 2014's Tony, even though the play was nominated for best musical. They considered it an injustice, especially that Rachel wasn't nominated for supporting actress. It didn't happen this time, but that didn't make me any less proud. ATU was a popular and beloved play. I took my sister to the dressing rooms and she looked unimpressed, despite Rachel's willingness to introduce her cast mates and tell us some good behind-the-scenes trivia. Finally, we headed off to dinner while Rachel concentrated for the second session of the day.
"Your little girlfriend is hot." She commented when we were already sitting at a table in the Shun Lee Palace, a Chinese restaurant in Midtown that cost an arm and a leg.
"I'm practically married to this 'little girlfriend', Fran. Have more respect, please."
"If there's no signed paper, little sister, she's just a girlfriend. It's not a little silver ring with the same design that's going to define that."
"Whatever... I don't care!"
"Sorry, Quinnie. It's just that I keep wondering... if you were supposed to be gay, why didn't you take the other Lopez? At least Santana is sexy all the time. Rachel is annoying... how do you put up with all that actress talk? Make-up jokes? Give me a break." I counted to 10.
"Rachel is super-sexy, Fran. And very intelligent. But it would be a waste of time explaining what that is to a blind person." I took a bite of my chop suey with pork.
"Uhu, little Quinnie still has some sass."
"Do you really want to waste our time teasing me?"
"I didn't come here for that!"
"Good! Then let's enjoy the meal, shall we?"
"Dad called me the other day." I thought the conversation was civilized enough not to give me indigestion. I celebrated too soon. "He said he'd like to speak with you again. He said he had a proposition for you, but he wouldn't waste his time if you weren't interested."
"What offer?"
"He'd pay for your law degree at OSU, with a fat allowance, if you'd drop this movie-making nonsense and forget about this gay relationship."
"Well... I'm not interested."
"I thought not. You seem too comfortable with this free life." I tapped the table impatiently.
"Fran. I have a full scholarship to NYU, one of the most prestigious universities in the world. I study something I love, I have a job where I can work in the field. In fact, I'm already doing that. I also earn some extra money from my photography. I live in a wonderful apartment in a good area of the city, together with the woman I love and her sister who I don't love so much, but Santana at least helps more than hinders. I have good friends, I have Mike and even that pothead Johnny, I have contacts and I have opportunities. Why would I give all that up for an offer from Dad to practically live in an undercover prison?"
"Anyone who hears you talk like that even thinks your life is perfect."
"It is for me! It may not be for you, but it works for me. Sometimes I really wish you were less Fabray and more my sister." I went back to concentrating on my meal.
"What do you mean?"
"It's just that I'm so jealous of Rachel and Santana's relationship. They fight almost every day, but when one needs it most, the other is always there. It's unconditional and natural. You wouldn't believe the things they do for each other, the sacrifices... And what do we have Fran? Blood? Surname? Is that enough?" I was controlling myself to keep the volume of my voice at a reasonable level.
"And what do you want from me?"
"Just to accept me as I am. Without ironies and jokes. It's not that difficult."
"I accept you, Quinnie. I accept that you're gay now. I accept it better than Mom. I just don't agree with you or your actions. Because I think you could be so much more. I think you could be a powerful gay woman if you listened to Dad and me."
"Well... That's a start." I sighed and took a sip of my wine. "You could come over for lunch tomorrow, since you're in New York for the weekend."
"Your place? The one you share with the Berry-Lopezes?"
"Yes, my house is inhabited by two other people. One of them is my girlfriend, and they both have the same surname."
"All right."
"All right?" My heart beat faster.
"Well, that would be important to you, right?"
"Immensely."
"Then I'll come and take a closer look at your new lifestyle."
"Great."
...
May 25, 2014
(Quinn)
I was even more nervous. The last time Frannie and Rachel had met last year, my sister had burst into offensive little innuendos and Rachel hadn't been able to take it, responding with less subtlety. This peace treaty mattered a lot to me, and I made a lot of effort to make the best lunch I could. I didn't go to church and Rachel to synagogue so that we could leave the house sparkling. Our apartment was usually clean and tidy (except for Santana's room), but I wanted to impress. Rachel even tidied up that war zone that was her sister's room, took down Santana's clothes hanging in the bathroom, made everything smell nice. I vacuumed the whole house, dusted the furniture, tidied all the other rooms and threw out the garbage. Then we went into the kitchen to prepare a simple but tasty meal. Rachel got the salad ready and even made the fruit jelly dessert. I prepared "Fabray-style pasta", which was one of the few things Frannie and I did together to have fun... as sisters.
Santana arrived from the synagogue. She had an avowed hatred of Frannie, but promised to behave. When my sister arrived punctually at 1pm, I was proud to show her our place. I think it was a pleasant surprise for her to see that I lived in a good neighborhood and in a good building, that my house was nice and beautiful. When we served the meal, Rachel tried to be polite and restrained, even brushing aside the little ironies and criticisms that Frannie unleashed from time to time. Santana didn't say a word, which was fine with me. Finally, Frannie made a point of helping with the dishes. Santana went to her room to study and Rachel had to shower and get ready for work.
"So what's the verdict?" I asked.
"Are the Berry-Lopezes girls always like this or were they just being very polite to me?"
"The second option, I confess. Our meals tend to be noisier... they get out of hand when Mike and Johnny show up."
Rachel appeared in the kitchen freshly showered. She said goodbye to Frannie with a gentle kiss on the cheek, and to me with a satisfying kiss on the lips.
"Break your leg!" I said.
"Thank you." Rachel had a sincere smile. "As Santana says: I'm going to knock them all out. Bye Frannie!" She hugged me and whispered in my ear. "How about using that little friend of ours today?" My smile widened. My little friend was my vibrator. We only used it in the most... special moments. Maybe that was one. "See you later, little lion." She shouted before opening the door.
Frannie raised one eyebrow in disbelief.
"Little lion?"
"She's a lady." I didn't want to give any more explanations or the conversation would become dirtier and I was sure my sister wouldn't want to hear such explanations.
Frannie and I said goodbye. She didn't make it clear whether she was okay or not with what she had seen. But she was satisfied in a way. It still wasn't what Santana and Rachel had and it was likely that I would never achieve such intimacy and rapport with my sister, but something different had happened: our master/apprentice interaction had been broken by something better, even if it was still strange and undefined. Santana left her room and went to the fridge to get some water.
"Weren't you taking the Queen of England to the hotel or the airport or whatever?"
"Santana, fuck off."
"Wow, you've changed from water to wine, Fabray?"
I shook my head in disbelief and started laughing. Santana had that spiteful half-smile on her face. I knew that, deep down, she was happy for me. And as soon as Rachel got home from the theater, I could properly celebrate my good day.