Chapter Thirty-eight: Mighty Oak Trees Grow
Quinn was apprehensive about returning home, but she couldn't put it off forever. As it was, time was pushing up against her curfew when she pulled into the driveway.
The silence and the darkness were overwhelming after the chatter and brightness of an evening at Breadstix, and so poisonous thoughts decided to sprout like mushrooms; their puffy tops taking up too much of her head. Like Brittany knew! and while Quinn trusted her intentions to keep the secret, she did not trust her ability to do so. Or her Daddy had spoken to Rachel and warned her to stay away. By Rachel's account he had been civil about it, which, well, it was surprising because she couldn't imagine he'd felt like being nice when seeing Rachel's name flashing on the screen. . .
No, not Rachel, RuPaul, oh God! That made the betrayal feel so much worse. It made Quinn another step removed from the whole thing, distancing her from Rachel's feelings and it was so what she needed to do right now, but it was also why Rachel was so upset with her. She'd once promised Rachel they were in this together and now Rachel knew that was a lie.
In Glee they'd begun performing the assignments – with Mercedes and Kurt and then Brittany and Matt taking their turns in the spotlight. She and Rachel had been the only pair to not sit together while they watched. Rachel had sat at the front alone, refusing to make eye-contact with anyone and she had sat behind Santana and Mike, listening to them bicker about their own song choices. She actually felt a little sympathy for Mike, he must be feeling like he was never going to have a girlfriend without having a Cheerios bitch getting in the way.
Her evening had been pleasant enough though, in fact once she'd started talking about Finn she'd monopolized the conversation completely. Telling them how wonderful he was being about the baby, how he'd taken steps to educate himself for her – she only touched lightly on Rachel's interference because she was talking so hard about this to put her out of mind for as long as possible – and generally gushing about what a great boyfriend he was.
Things had only started going downhill when their check was finally forced upon them – they'd finished their meals and spent an hour just getting diet coke refills by this time. She'd hesitated before pulling the money out of her purse. Not because she didn't intend to pay her share, but staring at those few folded bills just brought the subject of money crashing back to her. She shouldn't have done this; she couldn't afford to be eating out.
She didn't think her expression had wavered, only her hand, but Brittany immediately looked concerned. "My Dad forgot he gave me my allowance already this week so I got two lots. Would you like some?"
It was such a simple, genuine offer – the rare kind that came with no questions asked and no strings attached – it brought tears to Quinn's eyes and a sob escaped.
"For fuck's sake, your damn baby hormones are starting to drive me nuts!" Santana pushed a wad of napkins decorated with the Breadstix logo across the table.
"I'm fine." No tears actually fell, but when Santana fixed her with a 'Yeah, right' look, what followed was a ten-minute rant.
It was more whiny than angry, about how her Doctors bills were piling up and she had to pay at least one of them by tomorrow or she'd have Repo at the door and Finn's part-time job on minimum wage just wasn't enough no matter how much they both pretended it was going to be okay.
When she'd finished, a few tears falling now as she just stared miserably across the table at them, Santana let go of Brittany's hand and sat forward to lean on her elbows.
"Q, how long have you been sitting on all this financial shit?"
She sniffed, "I went to the free clinic to get it confirmed but ever since then, I suppose. Then, seeing how high in the triple digits my ultrasound was, sent me into a panic and I've been trying to forget about it ever since. But that's not an option any more."
"Panicking can't be good for the baby, right?" Brittany asked.
"She's okay. I had my blood pressure checked and another scan on Tuesday." She gave a wet chuckle, "I'm looking forward to getting the bill for that any day now."
"I don't think my extra allowance will cover three numbers, sorry."
"It's okay, B. I appreciate the offer, but it's not your problem anyway."
"No," Santana agreed fiercely. "It's Finn's. Why the hell hasn't that jello sack dropped out of school already and got a real job?"
"He's sixteen, San, I can't expect him to do that."
"Bull. He put that thing inside you, it's his responsibility to make sure your ass is covered, both financially and in dresses that actually fit."
Quinn looked down with a frown. "This one fits!"
"For how much longer? You look like you're about to super-size any second."
"And when that happens, I'll still be hotter than you."
"Never, Bitch." Santana smirked, "So, don't you have any money saved?"
"No, I've never needed to. I mean, I have a college fund, a good one, but I don't have any access to it and even if I could figure out a way to get at it my Dad would find out in about two seconds and would want to know why hundreds of dollars were suddenly missing."
"Don't they know?" Brittany frowned.
"No."
Santana sat back with a hiss. "I mean, I figured, but . . . when are you going to tell them?"
"I'm not." A napkin started to shred in her fingers.
"Quinn . . ."
"Santana, I don't want to talk about that."
"You know you can't hide it for much longer, right? I get your freaking out about telling them, shit I'd rather tell my folks that I was dreading my hair and joining a Rasta commune before telling them I was stupid enough to get knocked up . . ."
"You're really not helping!"
". . . but this isn't the kinda shit you can keep on the down low indefinitely. You're smart enough to know that at least?"
"That's my problem and I don't want to talk about it!"
"What about Rachel?" Brittany asked out of the blue, instantly gaining Quinn's undivided attention. A fact that probably wasn't lost on Santana.
"What? What about Rachel?"
"Doesn't she have any money?"
"B, how many times do I have to tell you? Berry isn't really the baby-daddy?" Santana said.
"No, I get it now. Quinn explained earlier, but couldn't she help anyway?"
Santana slowly looked from Brittany to her. "Actually, that's not a bad idea. I mean, she's fucking obsessed with you right now. Slip her a little tongue and then whisper in her elvish ear how much you need her help and I'll bet she'd throw herself out of a plane to get you the money. Actually, if you can get her to throw herself out a plane, I'll find a way to get you the money."
She was blushing, smiling and frowning all at the same time, but her voice was steady enough when she said, "I'm not going to use her like that."
"Why not? She'd love it. Hell, the chance of helping you out would probably get her wet."
Now she was definitely blushing. "First of all, can we never talk about Manhands getting . . . that again, it's disturbing. And second of all, she's already offered." Seeing Santana's eyes light up she quickly added, "And no, I didn't have to slip her my tongue first."
She was still waiting for the right moment for that.
"Then why aren't you taking her up on it?" Santana asked and Brittany nodded.
"Would you want to be beholden to Berry?" she rolled her eyes. "She's already blackmailed me once. I'm not giving her the opportunity to do it again."
Her words felt too cruel when she knew Rachel only wanted to help, but despite the many problems they had with each other and their situation, they'd always agreed to perpetuate that lie.
Their waitress came to stand right next to their table and glare at them then, until enough money had been placed on the table to cover their check – but no tip because glaring was rude! – and they finally left the restaurant and went their separate ways.
Quinn would like to say that talking about it had helped, but it hadn't really. It had just left her fully aware of how dire her situation was going to become tomorrow when Finn didn't have the money she needed.
All in all, she'd had a shit day and all she wanted now was to go inside, get into bed and call Rachel. It was the only thing that would make her feel better at this point. Except Rachel probably wouldn't even pick up and she'd probably have to face her Daddy first and for all she knew he could have decided to take away her phone in case Rachel tried to call again.
She wasn't going to find out sitting in her cold car though and as it was she was going to be a minute past curfew. Last week a minute wouldn't have got her into trouble, tonight she couldn't be so sure.
Going into the house quietly, she almost tiptoed towards the kitchen. Hearing her Daddy barking into his speaker phone in his study allowed her to relax a little – if he was caught up in work he didn't have time to accost her in the hallway – and she let out a little sigh of relief to see her phone on the kitchen table, just where she must have left it that morning.
She snatched it up and then, just because if she didn't show herself they might think she wasn't home yet, she stopped by the family room on her way upstairs. Her Mom was sitting in the high-backed armchair watching a made-for-TV movie but looked up as soon as she entered.
"I'm home," she said needlessly. "I'm going to go straight up to my room, if that's okay? Long day." It was ten in the evening, so she wasn't lying.
"Of course, Quinnie."
She said goodnight and then made her way up and sat on the edge of her bed for a few minutes, staring at her phone and trying to get up the energy to take a shower. She had no missed calls and no texts. Rachel hadn't tried to get in touch with her, which wasn't really surprising given the last time she'd contacted Quinn's phone.
She had it back now though.
Scrolling through to the 'R's she selected the number she wanted and hit send. It rang and rang until eventually the voice mail service cut in.
"Hi, it's me. I'm so sorry about earlier. Please believe that I never meant to hurt you. I know it's late, so you might not have picked up because you're asleep, but if you're awake and didn't pick up because you're mad at me, please don't be." She looked at the ceiling until the urge to cry left her and then murmured, "Call me back, Rachel. Please."