Backlog: Artie & Santana
Who: Artie & Santana
When: 2007
Where: Artie’s house
What: a sleepover
Maybe at 11 years old, it would be a little weird for a boy and a girl to have a sleep over, but they had been having them for so long by now it would be weird for them not to. As usual, Santana had the blow up air mattress on the floor while Artie was in his bed. Maybe in a lot of homes the boy would have the floor or the air mattress to be a gentleman, but in this one, Artie always had his bed.
Laying there in the dark, supposedly going to sleep, Artie lay uncomfortably on his stomach, pillows keeping him propped up how he was supposed to sleep. He had had the metal rod in his back replaced a few weeks back since he had grown and it was still uncomfortable sometimes. “You awake, ‘Tana?” he whispered, not wanting to alert his parents that he was still awake.
Santana had been staring at the creepy shadows the trees made in the moonlight against Artie’s wall. They looked like ghosts and though she’d never admit in a million years that was really creeped out by it and sometimes she was worried a monster would like come and snatch her our of the bed. The sound of Artie’s voice made her feel relieved. She blinked up at the ceiling and willed herself to calm down. “Yeah, why?” she whispered back.
“I can’t sleep,” he admitted. His back hurt. Even with the expandable rods, he had to have surgery to replace them every few years and it always hurt. If he asked for more medication though it would knock him out and he didn’t want that. Maybe he had overdone it playing with her earlier? Even though he had claimed to be taking it easy.
“Why can’t you sleep?” She questioned, rolling onto her side. Usually after Artie had a surgery, he had to take medicine and he’d fall asleep like really soon, even during movies and stuff, but he hadn’t had to this time. So, she wondered what was wrong.
“Back hurts,” he admitted softly, “but don’t go get my mom. She’ll just get more medicine and I don't wanna get knocked out like that,” that was no fun. The surgery had been a week earlier, he was off the antibiotics and everything was healing properly. It still hurt though, he had taken some pain medication earlier, just not as much as he could have. He still had a child’s monitor in his room and he could turn it on and call her if he had to, but he didn’t right now. “I want to be awake and hang with you and not be a buzzkill.”
Santana wasn’t eager to have Artie’s mom come in the room anyhow. She was nice enough, but she was kind of strict and sometimes she scared Santana. “‘kay, I won’t call her, but if your back hurts maybe you should take medicine.”
“I’ll see in a little bit,” he compromised, not wanting the medicine to make him sleep, but being in pain all night was no fun either. At least Santana was here. That was good because then he had someone to talk to and things instead of being alone in the room. “I’m sooo not ready for school to start. You’re gonna be in middle school,” leaving him in 5th grade.
This would be the first time since they’d become friends that they wouldn’t go to the same school. It felt weird. Santana was excited to start middle school, but she was also weirdly nervous not to have her best friend just down the hall. “Yeah, you’re gonna be the oldest grade and all the littler grades are gonna think you’re cool,” she teased lightly. She’d been that kid last year.
Artie made a face in the dark even though he doubted she could see it. Then again, she had better eyes than him, too. He had to wear glasses. “Nobody thinks I’m cool, Santana,” he pointed out patiently. “They just think I’m weird. Well, except you,” having Santana as his best friend was awesome because of that. Maybe it wasn’t so cool having a girl fend off the bullies, but Santana was tough, like any boy. And she was amazing at video games, so it didn’t matter.
“You aren’t weird. You’re awesome,” Santana assured him. Sometimes Artie was really worried about not being able to walk. Personally, sometimes Santana thought walking was for chumps. If she didn’t have to do jumping jacks in gym because she had a set of wheels, she wouldn’t complain. Plus Artie was really good at other stuff like playing the guitar and figuring out the cheats to games and stuff. “Plus the good thing about being the oldest grade is you get to make the rules.”
It wasn’t the walking thing that made him uncool, although that was definitely part of it. It was more that he was just...different. It wasn’t so great being different in elementary school. “True,” he agreed, “Too bad we can’t get rid of the tuna surprise,” that stuff was gross. The surprise was how no one had gotten food poisoning yet, “You gonna get a boyfriend now that you’re in middle school? Go kiss on them and make goo-goo eyes?”
Santana made a face. “Gross, no I’m not gonna do that. Boys are lame,” she answered, folding her arms behind her head as she thought about it. She wasn’t into boys. She couldn’t imagine ever being into them.
“Good,” Artie replied, then paused, “I’m not lame,” he protested, “I’m not going to kiss you though. That’d be like kissing my sister,” also something he didn’t much care for. He had never kissed a girl, but it seemed...sort of strange. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he knew he wasn’t into boys.
The idea of kissing Artie was so weird. They weren’t those kinds of friends. She had kissed him on the cheek once or twice, but only because he really hated it and would whine and rub his cheek until it was all pink. Well, and once because he was really in pain after one of his surgeries. “Well, I didn’t ask you to kiss me. You aren’t lame, but you are gross too,” she huffed, crossing her arms.
Her response surprised him a little. Did she want him to kiss her? Maybe not. Well, definitely not now. It was still gross. “You ever think about sex?” he asked, the late hour and darkness making this the perfect time to ask.
“I’m never having sex. So, why would I think about it?” She questioned. After her mom had explained to her exactly what sex was, she’d decided it wasn’t ever going to happen. She didn’t want to have babies anyhow. They were kind of annoying.
That made Artie laugh, “Good,” he agreed. That was awesome. He didn’t know if he could even, but he had had to go to the talk on puberty and all that with all the other boys anyways. It had not been fun. “This is why we’re friends,” he shifted, sticking a little arm and fist out for her to bump.
Grinning, Santana extended her fist and bumped it against his. That was why they were friends. They mostly agreed on everything. And the stuff they didn’t agree on wasn’t a big deal. They didn’t really fight about it. “Yeah, but how come you asked me about it?” She wondered, thinking maybe there was a reason he’d brought it up.
“Eh,” he sort of shrugged then decided that that was just as bad of an idea in bed as it was sitting up right now, “Just...they made us do the whole ‘puberty’ talk thing at the end of school, you know? How the girls are probably gonna start soon and the boys will too and whatever and just...I dunno,” he sort of wondered if his body would do the same as everyone else’s. It never seemed to do what was normal.
“You wanna know if you’re gonna do it like everyone else,” she said instead of asking. Sitting up, Santana scooted over to the side of the bed, leaning until her back was up against the side and she could see him. “Did you ask the doctor?” Some stuff they said Artie was never gonna do like other boys and he always got super sad when they said that.
“Not yet,” he admitted, “but...I don’t think they know yet. A lot of it is just waiting to see what happens and then dealing with whatever I do,” he loved that he didn’t have to explain things to Santana after all these years. “I mean...yeah, I’ll have puberty. That’s not something I’ll do backwards or whatever, but...sex? I dunno. What’s the point if I can’t?” Not that he wanted to now, but eventually, yeah.
“That’s easy. If you can’t, then I won’t. Then you won’t be alone,” she promised. She’d been serious about never doing sex stuff. It was so gross and she didn’t want her body to change. She wanted to be able to swim everyday in the summer like she always had, but her mom had told her there would be whole weeks where she couldn’t.
As much as Artie liked that promise, he wasn’t sure she would keep it. Or if he would want her to, but he accepted it anyways. Wishful thinking maybe. “You’re the best, ‘Tana,” Artie agreed, his arm draping off the bed to touch her hair and face. It was awkward, but it was dark. Yawning, he shifted awkwardly, “I think...I think if I am going to sleep tonight, I need those meds,” he admitted reluctantly. “My back’s still hurting. It hasn’t stopped.”
Santana leaned into his touch for a moment, before scrambling to her feet. “I’ll go get your mom,” she offered, heading towards the door. She hoped Mrs. Abrams wouldn’t be mad that she wasn’t asleep yet.
“I can get her,” Artie offered, groaning as he tried to reach for the monitor and turn it on. Normally, unless he was confined to his bed, the monitor was off, but he could turn it on in times like these. “Or um, you can. Sure.”
She walked quickly down the hall and past Shay’s room before knocking lightly on the door at the end of the hall. She hoped Artie’s mom answered. She was scary enough, but Santana was actually kind of terrified of his father, who was tall and large.
A moment later there was some shuffling and the door opened with Lashelle Abram’s clutching her robe around her, “Everything alright, Santana?” she asked with a yawn. Her hair was wrapped in a scarf to keep it looking good. “Is Artie okay?”
Santana shook her head. “He says his back hurts a lot and he can’t sleep,” she answered quickly, shifting from foot to foot. She should’ve put her socks back on. The floor was cold right here.
Making a noise that was hard to tell if it was a sigh or not, Lashelle stepped out of the bedroom in slippered feet to go to the kitchen to get his medicine, shooing Santana back to Artie’s room. He hadn’t needed the extra pain pills for the past two nights now, but she had thought he had overdone it playing with Santana earlier. He hadn’t listened though when she had told him to calm down.
Returning to the room quickly, Santana climbed back under her covers. “Your mom went to get your medicine. I think she was mad, but I don’t know. Maybe I should pretend to sleep until she leaves,” she said quietly, almost afraid that the older woman might be just outside the door.
“You always think she’s mad, Santana,” Artie pointed out. Most of the time, she wasn’t. “Are you cold?” he wasn’t, but then, he had a blanket and a sheet on at the moment in addition to his pajamas. Since it was summer he didn’t have to wear socks. Santana was one of the only people outside of his immediate family that he allowed to see him in shorts.
“That’s cuz she always is,” Santana countered. “I’m a little cold, but I’m kind of sleepy anyhow.” she wasn’t, but she didn’t want him to ask anymore sad questions. Sometimes they were really tough and she didn’t know how to answer him and then he got sad.
“Maybe it’s just you?” he suggested, playfully. “You can borrow some socks or whatever if you want,” it wouldn’t be the first time she had done something like that.
Before Santana could answer, his mom came in and turned on the bedside light. “Sorry,” she said unapologetically as she helped Artie to roll onto his back and then sit up. It was clear from the hissing noises he made as she did that that it was bothering him, “You overdid it tonight with Santana,” she admonished him, “that’s why you hurt.”
“Uh huh,” he agreed, “but it was fun. And worth it,” completely worth it.
Santana wanted to tell him not to say stuff like that to his mom. She knew his mom thought she was too rough with Artie or that she, at least, wasn’t as careful with him as she should be. Only, Artie was her best friend and he liked being treated like he was normal and Santana thought he was normal. So, she clenched her eyes shut tightly and pretended to sleep.
“Well, so long as it was worth it,” Lashelle agreed dryly, handing him a couple pills and a cup of water. “Let’s check your bag too,” she added, flipping the sheets back. With the extra water he was drinking now, it was a good idea.
“Mo-om,” Artie protested, blushing. It didn’t matter that Santana was faking sleep or that she knew he had a catheter and all that, he still didn’t want his mother making the fuss!
Trying to be subtle, Santana turned away and faced the other wall. She knew all about Artie’s “bag,” but she didn’t like to look at it. These were the moments when she couldn’t just pretend Artie was like everyone else. For the most part, he was, but this stuff always reminded her that wasn’t completely true.
Artie hated that his mom had just done that, but it wasn’t like he really could do a lot about it. Swallowing the pills and drinking the water, he waited as she got a new bag and reconnected it to the line. It was strapped to his leg where no one would see it, unless he had on short shorts or something, which he never wore. Artie always wore pants at school and even in the summers unless he was swimming, but that meant removing the bag anyways, he didn’t wear that swimming. Enduring it quietly, at least it was quick and physically painless.
His mother tucked him back in to bed on his stomach again, “Go to sleep now, both of you and have sweet dreams,” she admonished quietly, leaving the room and closing the door all but a crack.
Santana turned back to him and waited until she was sure his mom wasn’t still in the hallway. “Do you feel better?” She whispered into the darkness.
“Not yet,” Artie replied, “it takes a few minutes to kick in. Ugh. My mom can be so annoying,” he hated it when she did stuff like embarrass him in front of his friends. Well, in front of Santana. He wasn’t some little kid!
“Yeah, my mom too, especially now that she’s married to Hector. She made me wear that stupid dress to her wedding and like makes a big deal about us going shopping together. I hate shopping and I hate girly stuff, but she says I won’t always and when I get to middle school I’ll be happy she did it.” Santana really didn’t believe her. She hated girly stuff always would.
“You looked funny in that dress,” Artie agreed. It was weird seeing her in a dress and all froofy and such. “I mean, not like bad-ugly,” he corrected quickly, “but like....it didn’t look like you,” he had worn a suit too, but that wasn’t quite as different as Santana in a dress. With his father being a minister, wearing a suit happened with more frequency than he might prefer.
“The dress was all right I guess. I didn’t like the junk they put in my hair. That part sucked. She’s still different with Hector,” Santana sighed, thinking about how much had changed in the last two years with her mom since Hector had come into the picture.
“The food was good...” Artie had spent a lot of the reception stuffing his face. It had been delicious. Santana had gotten him onto the dance floor a little, pushing him around as he ‘danced,’ flailing his arms about. “You don’t think she’ll calm down eventually?” He couldn’t imagine having a stepfather like Santana did. Then again, he couldn‘t imagine his parents separating either. Hector was a decent guy though, he wasn’t bad.
Santana scrunched her nose and shook her head. “No, she’s all girly and goopy over him like he’s so great. He’s like nice, but he’s not that nice. Whatever, he’s stupid and I kinda don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”
Artie shrugged too, his back not protesting quite so violently now, “Maybe it’s some weird adult thing? They do stuff like that. My mom gets all weird when they have date night and stuff. And she spends like, hours in her room getting ready and making sure she looks just right and she always just looks like herself, so I don’t get it.”
“He says I should call him ‘dad’ and my mom says I don’t have to, but I know she wants me to. I just think it’s weird. I barely know the guy. He’s her husband. That doesn’t mean he’s my dad.” Plus, every time she opened her mouth to say it, it just felt weird, like she wasn’t supposed to say it.”
That Artie understood a little better. Reaching down, he sort of grabbed at Santana, then made a frustrated noise when he couldn’t find her in the dark, “My mom and dad said I didn’t have to call them that if I wanted. I didn’t even have to change my name if I didn’t want to, you know? But...I love them and it felt right. I wanted to. And sometimes, I think that maybe I shouldn’t’ve because it’s like I’m forgetting my birth parents or something, but...I love them too, but in a different way. My birth parents, whether it was a car accident or choice, they’re not the ones who are raising me, are my family. And it might not be their choice, but it’s how it is. And I don’t know the Joplin traditions or whatever, I know the Abrams’. I’m an Abrams. So...you do what feels right. And if that means calling him ‘Hector’ instead of ‘dad’ then that’s okay. Just remember that he’s the one who chose to be in your life,” There was a framed photo of his birth parents on the table next to his bed, his mother made sure of that. It was important for Artie to know where he came from, even if he wasn’t there now. He didn’t mention his adoption or birth parents too often, and even rarer was the mention of his old last name, even though everyone who saw him with his family knew he had to be.
Santana heard his words, but she didn’t say anything for a long time. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She just wanted to sleep now because her brain hurt. “Geez, Art, you didn’t have to get all mushy. I get it,” she mumbled, turning back on her side. “I’m sleepy. I think I wanna go to sleep before James wakes everyone up early in the morning to watch cartoons.”
James sucked like that. “Okay,” Artie agreed simply. His back wasn’t really hurting anymore too, which helped with the sleeping idea. “See you in the morning then,” he added, closing his eyes.
“G’night, Four Eyes,” Santana teased. She was happy Artie was her best friend even if he was a total know-it-all sometimes.
When: 2007
Where: Artie’s house
What: a sleepover
Maybe at 11 years old, it would be a little weird for a boy and a girl to have a sleep over, but they had been having them for so long by now it would be weird for them not to. As usual, Santana had the blow up air mattress on the floor while Artie was in his bed. Maybe in a lot of homes the boy would have the floor or the air mattress to be a gentleman, but in this one, Artie always had his bed.
Laying there in the dark, supposedly going to sleep, Artie lay uncomfortably on his stomach, pillows keeping him propped up how he was supposed to sleep. He had had the metal rod in his back replaced a few weeks back since he had grown and it was still uncomfortable sometimes. “You awake, ‘Tana?” he whispered, not wanting to alert his parents that he was still awake.
Santana had been staring at the creepy shadows the trees made in the moonlight against Artie’s wall. They looked like ghosts and though she’d never admit in a million years that was really creeped out by it and sometimes she was worried a monster would like come and snatch her our of the bed. The sound of Artie’s voice made her feel relieved. She blinked up at the ceiling and willed herself to calm down. “Yeah, why?” she whispered back.
“I can’t sleep,” he admitted. His back hurt. Even with the expandable rods, he had to have surgery to replace them every few years and it always hurt. If he asked for more medication though it would knock him out and he didn’t want that. Maybe he had overdone it playing with her earlier? Even though he had claimed to be taking it easy.
“Why can’t you sleep?” She questioned, rolling onto her side. Usually after Artie had a surgery, he had to take medicine and he’d fall asleep like really soon, even during movies and stuff, but he hadn’t had to this time. So, she wondered what was wrong.
“Back hurts,” he admitted softly, “but don’t go get my mom. She’ll just get more medicine and I don't wanna get knocked out like that,” that was no fun. The surgery had been a week earlier, he was off the antibiotics and everything was healing properly. It still hurt though, he had taken some pain medication earlier, just not as much as he could have. He still had a child’s monitor in his room and he could turn it on and call her if he had to, but he didn’t right now. “I want to be awake and hang with you and not be a buzzkill.”
Santana wasn’t eager to have Artie’s mom come in the room anyhow. She was nice enough, but she was kind of strict and sometimes she scared Santana. “‘kay, I won’t call her, but if your back hurts maybe you should take medicine.”
“I’ll see in a little bit,” he compromised, not wanting the medicine to make him sleep, but being in pain all night was no fun either. At least Santana was here. That was good because then he had someone to talk to and things instead of being alone in the room. “I’m sooo not ready for school to start. You’re gonna be in middle school,” leaving him in 5th grade.
This would be the first time since they’d become friends that they wouldn’t go to the same school. It felt weird. Santana was excited to start middle school, but she was also weirdly nervous not to have her best friend just down the hall. “Yeah, you’re gonna be the oldest grade and all the littler grades are gonna think you’re cool,” she teased lightly. She’d been that kid last year.
Artie made a face in the dark even though he doubted she could see it. Then again, she had better eyes than him, too. He had to wear glasses. “Nobody thinks I’m cool, Santana,” he pointed out patiently. “They just think I’m weird. Well, except you,” having Santana as his best friend was awesome because of that. Maybe it wasn’t so cool having a girl fend off the bullies, but Santana was tough, like any boy. And she was amazing at video games, so it didn’t matter.
“You aren’t weird. You’re awesome,” Santana assured him. Sometimes Artie was really worried about not being able to walk. Personally, sometimes Santana thought walking was for chumps. If she didn’t have to do jumping jacks in gym because she had a set of wheels, she wouldn’t complain. Plus Artie was really good at other stuff like playing the guitar and figuring out the cheats to games and stuff. “Plus the good thing about being the oldest grade is you get to make the rules.”
It wasn’t the walking thing that made him uncool, although that was definitely part of it. It was more that he was just...different. It wasn’t so great being different in elementary school. “True,” he agreed, “Too bad we can’t get rid of the tuna surprise,” that stuff was gross. The surprise was how no one had gotten food poisoning yet, “You gonna get a boyfriend now that you’re in middle school? Go kiss on them and make goo-goo eyes?”
Santana made a face. “Gross, no I’m not gonna do that. Boys are lame,” she answered, folding her arms behind her head as she thought about it. She wasn’t into boys. She couldn’t imagine ever being into them.
“Good,” Artie replied, then paused, “I’m not lame,” he protested, “I’m not going to kiss you though. That’d be like kissing my sister,” also something he didn’t much care for. He had never kissed a girl, but it seemed...sort of strange. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he knew he wasn’t into boys.
The idea of kissing Artie was so weird. They weren’t those kinds of friends. She had kissed him on the cheek once or twice, but only because he really hated it and would whine and rub his cheek until it was all pink. Well, and once because he was really in pain after one of his surgeries. “Well, I didn’t ask you to kiss me. You aren’t lame, but you are gross too,” she huffed, crossing her arms.
Her response surprised him a little. Did she want him to kiss her? Maybe not. Well, definitely not now. It was still gross. “You ever think about sex?” he asked, the late hour and darkness making this the perfect time to ask.
“I’m never having sex. So, why would I think about it?” She questioned. After her mom had explained to her exactly what sex was, she’d decided it wasn’t ever going to happen. She didn’t want to have babies anyhow. They were kind of annoying.
That made Artie laugh, “Good,” he agreed. That was awesome. He didn’t know if he could even, but he had had to go to the talk on puberty and all that with all the other boys anyways. It had not been fun. “This is why we’re friends,” he shifted, sticking a little arm and fist out for her to bump.
Grinning, Santana extended her fist and bumped it against his. That was why they were friends. They mostly agreed on everything. And the stuff they didn’t agree on wasn’t a big deal. They didn’t really fight about it. “Yeah, but how come you asked me about it?” She wondered, thinking maybe there was a reason he’d brought it up.
“Eh,” he sort of shrugged then decided that that was just as bad of an idea in bed as it was sitting up right now, “Just...they made us do the whole ‘puberty’ talk thing at the end of school, you know? How the girls are probably gonna start soon and the boys will too and whatever and just...I dunno,” he sort of wondered if his body would do the same as everyone else’s. It never seemed to do what was normal.
“You wanna know if you’re gonna do it like everyone else,” she said instead of asking. Sitting up, Santana scooted over to the side of the bed, leaning until her back was up against the side and she could see him. “Did you ask the doctor?” Some stuff they said Artie was never gonna do like other boys and he always got super sad when they said that.
“Not yet,” he admitted, “but...I don’t think they know yet. A lot of it is just waiting to see what happens and then dealing with whatever I do,” he loved that he didn’t have to explain things to Santana after all these years. “I mean...yeah, I’ll have puberty. That’s not something I’ll do backwards or whatever, but...sex? I dunno. What’s the point if I can’t?” Not that he wanted to now, but eventually, yeah.
“That’s easy. If you can’t, then I won’t. Then you won’t be alone,” she promised. She’d been serious about never doing sex stuff. It was so gross and she didn’t want her body to change. She wanted to be able to swim everyday in the summer like she always had, but her mom had told her there would be whole weeks where she couldn’t.
As much as Artie liked that promise, he wasn’t sure she would keep it. Or if he would want her to, but he accepted it anyways. Wishful thinking maybe. “You’re the best, ‘Tana,” Artie agreed, his arm draping off the bed to touch her hair and face. It was awkward, but it was dark. Yawning, he shifted awkwardly, “I think...I think if I am going to sleep tonight, I need those meds,” he admitted reluctantly. “My back’s still hurting. It hasn’t stopped.”
Santana leaned into his touch for a moment, before scrambling to her feet. “I’ll go get your mom,” she offered, heading towards the door. She hoped Mrs. Abrams wouldn’t be mad that she wasn’t asleep yet.
“I can get her,” Artie offered, groaning as he tried to reach for the monitor and turn it on. Normally, unless he was confined to his bed, the monitor was off, but he could turn it on in times like these. “Or um, you can. Sure.”
She walked quickly down the hall and past Shay’s room before knocking lightly on the door at the end of the hall. She hoped Artie’s mom answered. She was scary enough, but Santana was actually kind of terrified of his father, who was tall and large.
A moment later there was some shuffling and the door opened with Lashelle Abram’s clutching her robe around her, “Everything alright, Santana?” she asked with a yawn. Her hair was wrapped in a scarf to keep it looking good. “Is Artie okay?”
Santana shook her head. “He says his back hurts a lot and he can’t sleep,” she answered quickly, shifting from foot to foot. She should’ve put her socks back on. The floor was cold right here.
Making a noise that was hard to tell if it was a sigh or not, Lashelle stepped out of the bedroom in slippered feet to go to the kitchen to get his medicine, shooing Santana back to Artie’s room. He hadn’t needed the extra pain pills for the past two nights now, but she had thought he had overdone it playing with Santana earlier. He hadn’t listened though when she had told him to calm down.
Returning to the room quickly, Santana climbed back under her covers. “Your mom went to get your medicine. I think she was mad, but I don’t know. Maybe I should pretend to sleep until she leaves,” she said quietly, almost afraid that the older woman might be just outside the door.
“You always think she’s mad, Santana,” Artie pointed out. Most of the time, she wasn’t. “Are you cold?” he wasn’t, but then, he had a blanket and a sheet on at the moment in addition to his pajamas. Since it was summer he didn’t have to wear socks. Santana was one of the only people outside of his immediate family that he allowed to see him in shorts.
“That’s cuz she always is,” Santana countered. “I’m a little cold, but I’m kind of sleepy anyhow.” she wasn’t, but she didn’t want him to ask anymore sad questions. Sometimes they were really tough and she didn’t know how to answer him and then he got sad.
“Maybe it’s just you?” he suggested, playfully. “You can borrow some socks or whatever if you want,” it wouldn’t be the first time she had done something like that.
Before Santana could answer, his mom came in and turned on the bedside light. “Sorry,” she said unapologetically as she helped Artie to roll onto his back and then sit up. It was clear from the hissing noises he made as she did that that it was bothering him, “You overdid it tonight with Santana,” she admonished him, “that’s why you hurt.”
“Uh huh,” he agreed, “but it was fun. And worth it,” completely worth it.
Santana wanted to tell him not to say stuff like that to his mom. She knew his mom thought she was too rough with Artie or that she, at least, wasn’t as careful with him as she should be. Only, Artie was her best friend and he liked being treated like he was normal and Santana thought he was normal. So, she clenched her eyes shut tightly and pretended to sleep.
“Well, so long as it was worth it,” Lashelle agreed dryly, handing him a couple pills and a cup of water. “Let’s check your bag too,” she added, flipping the sheets back. With the extra water he was drinking now, it was a good idea.
“Mo-om,” Artie protested, blushing. It didn’t matter that Santana was faking sleep or that she knew he had a catheter and all that, he still didn’t want his mother making the fuss!
Trying to be subtle, Santana turned away and faced the other wall. She knew all about Artie’s “bag,” but she didn’t like to look at it. These were the moments when she couldn’t just pretend Artie was like everyone else. For the most part, he was, but this stuff always reminded her that wasn’t completely true.
Artie hated that his mom had just done that, but it wasn’t like he really could do a lot about it. Swallowing the pills and drinking the water, he waited as she got a new bag and reconnected it to the line. It was strapped to his leg where no one would see it, unless he had on short shorts or something, which he never wore. Artie always wore pants at school and even in the summers unless he was swimming, but that meant removing the bag anyways, he didn’t wear that swimming. Enduring it quietly, at least it was quick and physically painless.
His mother tucked him back in to bed on his stomach again, “Go to sleep now, both of you and have sweet dreams,” she admonished quietly, leaving the room and closing the door all but a crack.
Santana turned back to him and waited until she was sure his mom wasn’t still in the hallway. “Do you feel better?” She whispered into the darkness.
“Not yet,” Artie replied, “it takes a few minutes to kick in. Ugh. My mom can be so annoying,” he hated it when she did stuff like embarrass him in front of his friends. Well, in front of Santana. He wasn’t some little kid!
“Yeah, my mom too, especially now that she’s married to Hector. She made me wear that stupid dress to her wedding and like makes a big deal about us going shopping together. I hate shopping and I hate girly stuff, but she says I won’t always and when I get to middle school I’ll be happy she did it.” Santana really didn’t believe her. She hated girly stuff always would.
“You looked funny in that dress,” Artie agreed. It was weird seeing her in a dress and all froofy and such. “I mean, not like bad-ugly,” he corrected quickly, “but like....it didn’t look like you,” he had worn a suit too, but that wasn’t quite as different as Santana in a dress. With his father being a minister, wearing a suit happened with more frequency than he might prefer.
“The dress was all right I guess. I didn’t like the junk they put in my hair. That part sucked. She’s still different with Hector,” Santana sighed, thinking about how much had changed in the last two years with her mom since Hector had come into the picture.
“The food was good...” Artie had spent a lot of the reception stuffing his face. It had been delicious. Santana had gotten him onto the dance floor a little, pushing him around as he ‘danced,’ flailing his arms about. “You don’t think she’ll calm down eventually?” He couldn’t imagine having a stepfather like Santana did. Then again, he couldn‘t imagine his parents separating either. Hector was a decent guy though, he wasn’t bad.
Santana scrunched her nose and shook her head. “No, she’s all girly and goopy over him like he’s so great. He’s like nice, but he’s not that nice. Whatever, he’s stupid and I kinda don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”
Artie shrugged too, his back not protesting quite so violently now, “Maybe it’s some weird adult thing? They do stuff like that. My mom gets all weird when they have date night and stuff. And she spends like, hours in her room getting ready and making sure she looks just right and she always just looks like herself, so I don’t get it.”
“He says I should call him ‘dad’ and my mom says I don’t have to, but I know she wants me to. I just think it’s weird. I barely know the guy. He’s her husband. That doesn’t mean he’s my dad.” Plus, every time she opened her mouth to say it, it just felt weird, like she wasn’t supposed to say it.”
That Artie understood a little better. Reaching down, he sort of grabbed at Santana, then made a frustrated noise when he couldn’t find her in the dark, “My mom and dad said I didn’t have to call them that if I wanted. I didn’t even have to change my name if I didn’t want to, you know? But...I love them and it felt right. I wanted to. And sometimes, I think that maybe I shouldn’t’ve because it’s like I’m forgetting my birth parents or something, but...I love them too, but in a different way. My birth parents, whether it was a car accident or choice, they’re not the ones who are raising me, are my family. And it might not be their choice, but it’s how it is. And I don’t know the Joplin traditions or whatever, I know the Abrams’. I’m an Abrams. So...you do what feels right. And if that means calling him ‘Hector’ instead of ‘dad’ then that’s okay. Just remember that he’s the one who chose to be in your life,” There was a framed photo of his birth parents on the table next to his bed, his mother made sure of that. It was important for Artie to know where he came from, even if he wasn’t there now. He didn’t mention his adoption or birth parents too often, and even rarer was the mention of his old last name, even though everyone who saw him with his family knew he had to be.
Santana heard his words, but she didn’t say anything for a long time. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She just wanted to sleep now because her brain hurt. “Geez, Art, you didn’t have to get all mushy. I get it,” she mumbled, turning back on her side. “I’m sleepy. I think I wanna go to sleep before James wakes everyone up early in the morning to watch cartoons.”
James sucked like that. “Okay,” Artie agreed simply. His back wasn’t really hurting anymore too, which helped with the sleeping idea. “See you in the morning then,” he added, closing his eyes.
“G’night, Four Eyes,” Santana teased. She was happy Artie was her best friend even if he was a total know-it-all sometimes.