We Are Going to Make It: Chapter 4/16
Quinn rolled her eyes.
“Don’t make this longer than it has to be, Rachel.”
Rachel blushed and decided to be completely honest, no antics.
“Well, senior year I applied to a bunch of different schools. My heart was set on Julliard though. I had to do all types of preparation for the audition. I had to send a tape of myself both acting and singing as well as write a very elaborate essay on why I love music. It did not seem too difficult and it wasn’t. My fathers helped me with the song choice and recording of the video. It seemed too easy but when I sent out my application and tape I felt confident in myself. A few months later, a letter came in the mail from Julliard. You know that feeling when you get mail, those butterflies you get in your stomach? I had them and I knew I was going to get it. It was inevitable; but when I opened the envelope, it was not an acceptance letter. It was a declining one.”
Quinn gasped, her eyes completely fixed on the brunette across from her. She could hear the pain in the girl’s voice.
“I-I had no idea,” she breathed.
“That was the point. I didn’t tell anyone. I was too embarrassed. Anyway, NYU declined me as well and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t upset. I was more than upset. I felt like there was no hope for me to ever make it in New York. My fathers kept telling me it wasn’t the end of the world but it felt like it. All of my life I had dreamed about going to Julliard. I spent my entire childhood planning and this one letter crushed those plans. I stopped trying in Glee Club. What was the point? The only reason I joined was to give myself a competitive edge when I reached college, and then eventually Broadway. No one really noticed, not even Finn. Everything began to feel pointless. I got into Columbia so I decided I would go there and major in music, minor in theater. Senior year flew by and before I could process anything I was on a plane with my fathers going to New York. Finn and I broke up. I knew, we knew that we couldn’t handle the distance.”
“Did you love him?” Quinn interrupted, her voice soft, vulnerable.
Rachel contemplated the question for a moment; then she shook her head.
“No, not the way I wished I could. It would have been easy if I did.”
Quinn nodded, seeming to understand that feeling, the feeling of loving someone because it was easier. A thin hand gestured for the brunette to continue. Rachel took a deep breath.
“New York was incredible. I mean, I loved it. The first week I was there I did everything. I saw the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Central Park, ate cupcakes at Magnolias. Kurt and I explored the city together and learned our way around. It was humongous, Quinn. I felt so overwhelmed by it all. If I felt small in Lima imagine how minuscule I felt in the big city. My roommate Chelsea and I met a week before our classes started. She is really sweet, a little shy, but she has a fantastic voice. She majored in Opera singing. The best thing about New York though wasn’t the sights or the food or something trivial. It was the people. I felt like I could be myself without the fear of being slushied or tormented.”
Quinn’s gaze dropped to her hands, her guilt engraved on her porcelain skin. Her heart wrenched at the memories of tormenting Rachel. It was her biggest regret.
“I enjoyed college a lot. I was taking classes I wanted to take and I felt myself growing up. I ditched the argyle and animal sweaters for a more modern look and became Rachel Berry: College Student. It was thrilling, kind of like a fresh start. No one knew me and that was the best part.”
Quinn nodded, remembering how badly she had wanted that fresh start but how she had been robbed of the opportunity.
“What happened after college?” she prompted.
Rachel sighed and took a quick sip of her water.
“I began to audition nonstop. We are talking three a month. I started out small with off Broadway productions, thinking that I would master those and then move on to bigger and better things. I was wrong. No one wanted me.”
Quinn’s heart broke. No one wanted her? Were they blind? More importantly, were they deaf?
“I’m sure someone-,”
“No, Quinn,” the brunette said coldly, “No one.”
The tone frightened the blonde and she was not used to Rachel being like this, passive, depressed. She was used to the hyper, sunny, Rachel who talked at a mile a minute about how she was going to be a star one day. Despite her snide remarks, Quinn truly believed that Rachel would be successful in New York. Like she had said, it was inevitable. It was shocking to hear that she hadn’t made it.
“I kept pursuing roles and continued being rejected. I did get one role, a small extra role in a production of Hair off Broadway. To be honest, that was the worst experience of my life. I began to get impatient so I decided to try my luck and audition for a Broadway show. Somehow I managed to get an audition and studied as if the audition would decide if I lived or died. I spent all night memorizing my lines and all day practicing my song. It had to be perfect.
“I walked into the theater and saw a line of about thirty-five other girls. It was intimidating but I couldn’t let my nerves get to me. I watched each girl go up onto the stage, belt their hearts out and act as best as they could. With each girl my nerves grew. They were all so tall, and lean and beautiful. I am short and have a big nose. I felt my chances lowering with each minute. Finally, it was my turn. I was the last to perform and I’ve never felt as nervous as I did that day. When I audition, the nerves don’t really hit me and if they do they are practically nonexistent. That day they were rampant and I was terrified out of my mind. I sang On My Own, my favorite Broadway song if I had to choose one. For a few minutes, as I was singing, my nerves went away, as they always do when I perform; but the minute I opened my eyes and looked at the panel of producers looking my way, the nerves returned, and they brought their friends. I waited a week before I received a phone call from the producer.”
Quinn was hanging on each word that left Rachel’s mouth. The waiter had come with their food but she hadn’t even noticed.
“Well?” the blonde asked, the anticipation killing her with each moment of silence. Why did Rachel insist on being such a drama queen?
“I didn’t get the part.”
The brunette’s head dropped and Quinn knew she was still devastated about not getting it.
“Well, you should have,” Quinn whispered, not sure if the brunette even heard her above the loud roar of the other customers in the restaurant.
Rachel’s head snapped up.
Did she just say that? Did Quinn Fabray just…compliment me?
Quinn’s eyes avoided the bewildered brown ones staring at her. Had she actually said that? It just slipped out; but she meant it.
“Sorry, I-,” she began but Rachel placed her hand on the blonde’s causing her to fall instantly silent.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Quinn’s body was shaking as Rachel’s warm palm burned through her skin. They sat there for a while, one hand on top of the other, each too scared to make a move. What was going on?
“Is there something wrong with your meal?”
Quinn’s hand shot back into her lap.
“No, everything’s fine. Thank you,” she said, thankful and somewhat annoyed at the man’s interruption.
The man walked away and Quinn rubbed her hand, still feeling the warmth from Rachel’s hand. It was a new kind of tingly feeling. Rachel cleared her throat and Quinn looked up, a blush pervading her glossy skin. She could sense the cheerleader’s nervousness, although she didn’t understand why. Quinn was never nervous around Rachel; she was confident, cool, collected, and bitchy. Right now she seemed shy and maybe even a little bit embarrassed.
“What happened after you didn’t get the part?” Quinn asked, trying to erase the memory of Rachel’s soft skin on hers.
Rachel decided not to pry and surrender to the sudden change in subject.
“Uh, well I was crushed. It seemed like it would just happen, like I wouldn’t need to work I’d just get the award winning lead role and the rest would fall into place; but I guess life isn’t that easy. I called my fathers and cried. I decided I was done with New York. It was too painful to stay there anymore, so I moved back home with my fathers and got a job here at the theater. Being that people are much less talented in Lima, I got all of the leads I auditioned for. And I guess that is where the story ends.”
Quinn gaped at the girl in front of her.
“So you just gave up?”
Rachel didn’t understand why she was so shocked.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” she said, defeated.
“Are you serious? Rachel Berry gave up? I don’t believe what I am hearing.”
“Why is that so hard to believe? They didn’t want me.”
“It is so hard to believe because the Rachel Berry I remember never gave up. When she wanted Finn Hudson she did everything in her power to get him, even after I slushied her and tortured her; she still went after him. When she wanted a solo in Glee Club she worked her ass on it until it was perfect. Most importantly, when people said no she said screw you I’m doing it anyway.”
The blonde was breathing heavily now, her cheeks flushed with anger. Rachel was taken aback.
“I had no idea you felt so strongly about this.”
Quinn sighed, trying to compose herself in vain.
“You never used to let people, especially me, get to you. You kept your head high. What makes this any different then me being a total bitch to you?”
Rachel was shocked by the girl’s forceful words.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Exactly. Rachel, this is no different. Don’t let anyone tell you are not good enough.”
“This is quite odd coming from the girl that spent four years drilling that into my brain.”
The words had slipped out of her mouth; but Quinn didn’t get defensive or upset as the brunette had expected. She simply nodded and looked down at her hands. When her gaze finally met Rachel’s, her eyes were shiny and for a moment Rachel thought she was going to cry, but she wanted to know why the girl had said that to her.
“Why did you do it?” Rachel asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.
Rachel tried not to look at Quinn; she knew how harsh she was being but she had to know. She didn’t trust her just yet. The blonde was silent.
“Quinn, why did you do it? Did you even realize how much you hurt me? Because I was affected by it, I am just an incredibly good actor. You hurt me more than the others. You hated me with every fiber of your being. I don’t believe that you can all of a sudden say that I am talented after the hell you put me through. What the hell happened? What the hell changed?”
Rachel could hear her heavy breathing from across the table.
“I never hated you,” she breathed, her eyes now staring deeply at the brunette.
A tear cascaded down her porcelain skin. Rachel suddenly felt angry. Why was she acting like the victim? For a while it was kind of nice; now she wanted to punch the blonde in the face.
“No, you don’t get to act like you are the victim here, Quinn. You don’t get to cry. You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself because you were a bitch to me. I am the victim here. I should be pissed. I should want to rip your head off right now. Why the hell did you do all of those things to me if you never even hated me? Is that your sick way of having a good time? Was that fun for you? Oh, hm I’m bored. Let’s go torture Rachel, that’ll be fun.”
Her blood was boiling as she glared at the blonde. Suddenly, something changed and the blonde wiped her tears away viciously with her free hand, the other clutching her stomach as if she was about to vomit.
“You’re right,” was all she could choke out.
With that, she ran to the restroom, leaving the diva alone with her now cold meal. A wave of nausea suddenly overcame her as she ran into the room. She fell to her knees and grabbed onto the toilet, her knuckles turning white. Her insides were on fire as she vomited her breakfast. Barely able to move, she leaned against the cold porcelain and buried her face into her hands.
What am I doing?
Yes, what was she doing? What was she thinking inviting Rachel Berry to dinner? Of course she’d be mad at her, she had every right to be. There were a few things Quinn regretted in her life. One, marrying Sam. Two, not going to New York for college. Three, moving back in with her parents. And finally four, her biggest regret was being a bitch to Rachel, for torturing her when she never hated her. Rachel didn’t deserve it, any of it. And now Rachel hated her. Another surge of nausea overtook her and her face was suddenly in the toilet.
“Quinn?”
Her head snapped out of the bowl and turned to the door. Was that…
“Quinn?”
Rachel? Is she still here?
Quinn’s breathing was labored and another wave of nausea began to form. She heard a knock on the door. It wasn’t locked. The room was silent save for her breathing and she stared at the doorknob as it slowly unturned. The door opened. She began to wipe her mouth and face, trying desperately to conceal her tears.
Rachel stared at the girl on the definitely unsanitary floor. Her face was pale and her lips were dry and cracking. It was obvious she had been crying and there was puke in the toilet. It was pathetic, absolutely pathetic.
“You are pathetic,” she spit out venomously.
“I know,” she said, her voice shaking and cracking on the word know.
“Oh shut up!” Rachel yelled.
Quinn’s eyes were wide now, the nausea returning to her stomach. She knew everything Rachel was saying was true.
“Look, I don’t know why you even invited me here but I know you cannot make me guilty for taking all of the crap you gave me in high school. Get up, clean yourself up because you look pathetic and disgusting, and get over yourself. You are not a victim, Quinn. You survived teen pregnancy, being homeless, and losing everything you had. All during that time you never acted like this, you never acted so weak. It is repulsive. What the hell happened to the bitch in high school that stood up for herself, that didn’t take crap from anybody, especially me?”
The tears were falling freely now from Quinn’s hazel eyes. All she wanted was to make things right with Rachel.
“Rachel, please forgive me?” she begged, her voice cracking and her head spinning.
The girl standing above her scoffed and was amazed at the blonde’s lack of dignity. Admittedly, Rachel couldn’t stand Quinn looking so weak and so hurt and the impulse to take it all back and help her clean up was strong, but at the same time, what about her dignity? If she forgave Quinn she’d look even more pathetic.
“No,” she said defiantly. “Quinn, I cannot forgive you like this. We haven’t seen each other in seven years. We talked for about one hour and you expect me to just cave and forgive you? Sorry, you’re going to have to give it a little more effort and stop feeling sorry for yourself. Once you can get over yourself then maybe I will consider forgiving you; but not like this.”
With that, Rachel turned and opened the door, leaving the blonde speechless and alone on the bathroom floor.