The evening went on. Drinks were had and locations changed, from bar to bar to another bar with a bigger dance floor. Tina dropped off and headed home, then Mercedes, then Mike, all of who I kissed goodbye and told to text when they got home. It was a Thursday night after all, and my friends were semi responsible people with real jobs where they had someone to answer to come 9 am. I had a class tomorrow and work the next night at six, responsibilities and places to be but without the anchor of a full time job. So I stayed out, even if I was functionally sober.
The five of us that were left rotated on and off the dance floor for hours, some drunker than others. Sam was the worst culprit by far. He kept swaying side to side and pointing around the table at me and Kurt and Quinn, rehashing stories from high school and laughing about stupid memories from home. It was in the middle of a rendition of Bruce Springsteen's 'Glory Days' that Quinn stepped in and force fed him fries and water to sober up.
"Don't threaten me with a good time." Sam drawled, complying and gulping down glass after glass of water.
"Trouty, just because you don't have work tomorrow doesn't mean we're gonna let you puke your guts up in the diviest dive bar in all of Philadelphia. " I said, patting Sam on the shoulder.
Brittany interjected. "Why do you call him trouty?"
"The lips". Sam and I said at the same time, his words dragging out for much longer than mine.
"Sam and Santana dated in junior year." Kurt began to explain, "and Santana wrote.."
"For about five minutes!" I cut him off.
"You broke my little heart, Sananana." Sam mumbled and looked up at me from his place on Quinn's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. He was kidding. Sam and I had literally dated for about twelve days, only three of which we actually acted like we liked each other.
"Really?" Brittany asked, eyes wide. I wondered what part of it was unbelievable to her.
"Yes, we dated" I laughed. "But I hardly broke his heart. Trouty bought me some time in the closet, but before long he scurried off back to blondie." I pointed to Quinn.
Brittany squinted a little at me and then nodded with recognition. "Oh, I knew that part. I find that so funny though, because I literally can't picture Sam and Quinn dating, like at all."
"Really?" I exclaimed. It was weird. I still kind of thought of Sam and Quinn as a pair, and that conception of them started when they started dating in high school. The memory of it linked them together. To think of someone else knowing them and not seeing who they used to be seemed strange, in some way.
"Well, that was a good ten years ago." Quinn muttered. "We're both so different now."
The bar suddenly felt smaller. Quinn looked to Sam, then to Kurt, and then back to her drink.
Kurt broke the tension. "We're all different now. For one, I've stopped quaffing my hair up to the high heavens."
Sam lurched forward and gagged, but didn't throw up. Everyone decided to call it a night.
The five of us walked out of the bar, Sam immediately rounded a corner, disappeared, and then came back three minutes later looking as chipper as ever.
"One and done?" Kurt asked, clearly referring to Sam very obviously having just puked on cobblestone brick.
"One and done." Sam replied. "I'll walk you guys home, then the girls." Sam and Quinn, and now Brittany, lived about a ten minute walk from you and Kurt.
"I'm not sure we need your chivalry after that white girl wasted display we all just saw" I jabbed at Sam.
"Don't argue, Lopez."
Quinn and Kurt grabbed Sam by either side and started the walk home, Brittany and I trailing behind. Kurt and Quinn were tipsy, but no where near Sam's level. The three of them were swaying side to side, someone tripping up every few feet.
With Brittany walking beside me, I suddenly felt a pang of guilt. I hadn't really spoken since you'd been in the smoker's section a few hours ago, and this entire evening had effectively been her welcome drinks. She looked a little bleary eyed from drinking.
"So, Indiana." I started, already feeling silly at the ice breaker. "Was it a lot like how we made Ohio sound?" I asked.
Brittany smiled. "It sounds a lot similar to you guys in Lima. Except maybe without all the love triangles."
"Hey, that was no triangle" I said, defending myself. "More like a Venn diagram with Sam in the middle."
Brittany laughed and I continued. "I didn't really date until I got to college. Well, I dated boys in high school, but I was never into them. They were just kind of there." I shook my head a little. Why was I offering up this information?
"I dated so many people in high school." Brittany said, seemingly out of nowhere. I looked sideways at her and she did the same back at me, until a smile crept up on both of our faces.
"Like, how many?" I asked.
"Oh I don't know, ten? I was trying to figure out what I liked." She shrugged.
Her candor was refreshing. There was something sweet about how matter of fact it was. Brittany swayed to the right and bumped her elbow into mine. "Bet you broke a couple of hearts, though." She seemed a little drunk, but the kind of drunk that had some charm to it.
"Ha. Definitely not." I cringed at that response. Brittany's attempt to playfully flirt was cute, but I hated this topic.
"I can't believe that." Brittany retorted. I think she sensed my discomfort, because the topic was abruptly changed. "What about these guys?" Brittany gestured to the three idiots in front. "Who broke the most hearts?"
"Oh, that's a title reserved for Fabray. No question."
"Thought so." Brittany's voice went quiet. "Did she break Sam's?"
It was a loaded question. "I don't think so. At least not in the real way." I looked ahead and saw Quinn cuddling into Sam's shoulder, no hint of romance between them. "I think maybe they helped each other more than they ever hurt each other.
"I like that." Brittany said. "What about you and Kurt?"
I looked at Brittany, confused. She laughed. "No, I mean. Your friendship. Is it like theirs? Or different?"
"It's different." I said quietly. "But he did.. change everything."
Brittany didn't say anything for a moment, just picked some leaves off a bush you were both walking past and ripped them up.
"Those are the best kind of friends."
Days came and went and so did emails, and essays, and drinks. It had become cold in the city all of a sudden with the advent of autumn. My days felt longer when the weather got colder. Quinn had been hounding me for days about the dinner with her parents I'd promised to attend. I kept agreeing to go, but I knew she was preparing herself for the possibility that I wouldn't come. There was no way that I would bail, but I'd be lying to myself if I said I hadn't fantasised about getting out of it.
One afternoon at work, I started bracing for impact. Dinner would be that night. I wondered what version of Quinn's parents we would be getting. There was the boastful kind, the version that talked and talked about Yale and finance and high school achievements and money. Then there was the mean kind. That incarnation was covert, and bitter, and they always made the put downs sound like jokes when they were anything but. And then there was the indifferent version. Bored, disinterested, and slightly amused.
Your own parents seemed like a prize compared to the Fabrays. They were a little removed emotionally, but they never made you feel the way that Quinn's parents made her feel. Your parents never made you feel like you were an outsider in your own family, or that their love for you was conditional and dependent on certain ways you behaved. I had never known how to tell Quinn this when we were younger, but in spite of your adolescent behaviours and lack of displays of friendship toward each other, I always cared about her.
"Okay, here's the plan. Dad will ask me about work, and I'm gonna say something like 'actually Daddy, I made a career change."
"Please don't utter the word Daddy in my presence."
"And then he'll say, oh? And I'll say, yeah. I'm a kindergarten teacher."
"And then good old Gwen will fall to the floor, clutching her heart, fainting because her little Quinny has lost her mind."
This was the worst plan I had ever heard in my life. Dinner was in twenty minutes. Quinn was obsessively dabbing at her her face trying to blend in her concealer. I considered offering her a valium, but then she grabbed me by the hand and told me it was time to go.
The restaurant was huge and intimidating and full of wait staff who said ma'am. I could rarely afford a night out like this. I hoped Quinn's Dad would be footing the bill, but I didn't count on it because he'd never been particularly generous. The hostess took us to our table and Quinn's parents were sitting there surveying the room, no doubt trying to ascertain who their imaginary competition was out of the rest of the patronage.
"Quinny!" Gwenyth stood up and grabbed Quinn by the shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. Quinn stood stone like for a second and then began to soften to her mother, sneaking her arms out from her sides and offering a small hug in return.
"Darling" said Charles. "Looking as gorgeous as ever." Quinn's father kissed her on both cheeks and stepped back to look his daughter in the eye. "How's things at the office?"
I stood to the side awkwardly, as though if I tried hard enough I might shrink into the background and everyone would forget I was even there. It was no use. Gwenyth walked over to me and gave you the tiniest, most pathetic kiss on the cheek she could muster.
"Santana. What a surprise." Quinn's Mom managed to choke out. It wasn't a lovely surprise, or a pleasant surprise. Just a surprise.
"Yes… a surprise. Hi, Santana." Charles nodded toward me.
I shot Quinn a look. I had figured she'd do this, sneak attack her parents by having you tag along without telling them. But I'd certainly hoped differently, that she'd give them the courtesy of a heads up. Unfortunately when it came to her parents, Quinn was terribly conflict averse.
"I hope you don't mind, I invited Santana along. You both haven't seen her in years, I thought it would be nice for everyone to catch up." Quinn tried to explain. She'd brought me here to be her bodyguard, actually.
"Nice to see you again, Charles, Gwyneth. You're both looking.. well" That was the extent of bullshit niceties that I could offer.
Quinn looked in my direction and we both sat down. What followed was a nauseating ten minutes of discussion by Quinn's parents about wine and appetisers. They never asked you or Quinn your thoughts or opinions on what to order. It made you feel twelve again.
Charles looked over at me and blinked slowly. It was like he was trying to figure out why I was there, what my role would be in this farce of a dinner. He didn't say anything for a moment, just chewed the inside of his cheek and watch intently at the glass while the waiter poured his glass of pinot.
"So, Santana." He started "what are you… doing with yourself… these days?"
It felt like more of an accusation than a question, like perhaps he couldn't conceive of the fact that anything you were doing would be good.
"Santana's in law school." Quinn blurted out before I even got the chance to open my mouth. "She's in grad school now. Isn't that amazing?"
"Oh, that's lovely." Gwyneth said. I wasn't sure that studying to be a lawyer was the kind of thing that was lovely.
"Huh." Charles said. "Gave up the life of a starving artist, huh?"
I furrowed my brow. Starving artist? I'd never really been starving. I'd certainly always felt like an artist, but my graduate job was for a big record label, not an indie one. I knew that now wasn't really the time to correct or argue. I fidgeted under the table.
"Guess so. Yeah, I decided to make a bit of a change I guess." I gave Charles a sickly kind of smile. If I couldn't outright drag him with your words, the very least I could do was offer some passive aggression.
Quinn and Gwenyth's eyes were mirroring each other's, flittering back and forth between you and Charles.
"Daddy, that's sort of why I wanted to bring Santana to dinner." I cringed at the term of endearment. "She decided to make a career change, and so did I". Oh boy. What a terrible segue.
"Honey… law? Ohhhh!" Gwenyth started to clap her hands together as though in celebration. Quinn must have not thought through that segue, because her face went white.
"Well.. no. I'm uh… I'm teaching." Quinn tossed her hair back and straightened her posture.
"Teaching college? Wonderful!" Gwyneth clapped again.
Quinn laughed. "No, Mom". A long pause. "Kindergarten."
Charles dropped his face into his hands. "Oh Jesus fucking christ."
"Charles!" Gwyneth swatted her husband. "Quinny… what do you mean?"
"I mean I'm teaching kindergarten."
I just sat there and waited for Charles to say something. Evidently, so did everyone else, because no one did until Charles spoke.
"You know, it's one thing for you to bring your mother and I all the way to.. Philadelphia for this. But it's another thing to…" Charles looked at you.
Quinn looked at her father looking at me and scrunched up her face. "To do what? Bring my best friend?"
"Bring the girl who helped you do what you did."
"Dad, I did that all on my own." Quinn was raising her voice now.
"You wouldn't have done it alone." Charles stared at Quinn.
"I… uh. I think maybe I'll wait outside." I offered. There was no universe in which your continuing to sit at the table was going to help the situation.
I started to rise when Quinn barked at me. "Santana. Sit down." I sat.
"Dad, I will not have you blame Santana for a choice that I chose to make." Quinn was near yelling now. People were staring.
"Quinn, let him blame me. I'm the one that paid for it." It was only a half truth, but I didn't mind being the scapegoat. I never had. "And I'd do it again if it meant Quinn got to make her own decisions about her future."
Charles eyes widened. Gwyneth started crying and asking everyone to stop.
"I don't need your lecture, Santana. I don't know how you live with yourself."
Quinn jumped up from the table and pointed her finger at her father. She was gritting her teeth. "She saved my fucking life." A cry left her throat. "What have you ever done that meant that much?"
Quinn grabbed my arm and led me outside.
I couldn't believe it. Quinn had just told her father to go fuck himself.