My Only Exception 2/20
Later that night, Quinn found herself sitting on her cot in Puck’s basement. Her iPod was playing her funk song softly in the background. She sang along under her breath, embarrassed by the sounds coming out. The song had to be letter perfect, no mistakes; if not, she’d be even more of a loser and Quinn just could not take another slushy. The school, prior to her pregnancy, came to believe and accept that Quinn Fabray was perfect. Perfect body, perfect grades, she was supposedly good at everything. Quinn would never admit it, but when it came to singing, she was far from confident. She was insecure even.
The house was empty due to Puck being at football and his mother and sister at a friend’s house for a play date. Quietly, Quinn made her way up the stairs, an affair that grew more challenging as the pregnancy progressed. Finally, she reached her destination. Inside the room was a guitar, an unused desk, and an even more unused piano. She sat down at the bench and ran her fingers over the keys.
Then her fingers began their dance, gracing over each key with purpose. The baby had been quiet fussy that day for some reason, even though literally three hours ago she was kicking hard for Rachel. Quinn had been too busy preparing her funk number that she hadn’t had a chance to comfort her daughter. Clarie de Lune, hell anything by Debussy, calmed the infant inhabiting her. As she progressed, she felt the baby roll over sleepily. Soon she became lost in the music, the notes echoing in her ears. Her shoulders slowly unraveled as her body noticeably relaxed.
Quinn had become so deep within the instrument that she did not notice that it had become night time and both Puck and his mother had arrived home. She looked out the window; it was pitch black. The clock read 7:25 pm.
“Shit,” she mumbled under her breath as she quietly exited the room.
Just when she though she had gone unnoticed, a little girl stopped her by the door to the basement.
“I heard you playing my daddy’s piano,” she said quietly.
Quinn froze, her throat void of speech.
“It was very pretty,” the child said with a toothy smile before skipping off to the kitchen.
Quinn sighed, relieved that she hadn’t gotten in any sort of trouble.
“Hey,” a voice said from behind her.
Quinn whirled around and her eyes met Puck’s dark brown ones.
“Hey,” she breathed back, the baby quieter than ever.
“You know you don’t have to sneak around. If you want to play, play. It was beautiful. No one’s played since my dad. My mother’s in tears.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was his…”
“No, Quinn. It was great.”
Like a gentleman, Puck took her hand and led her into the kitchen and got her meal. For the next hour, Quinn endured some documentary on Super Mario Brothers while eating a crappy T.V. dinner. Finally, she excused herself and thanked Puck and his mother for the meal. As she walked down the hallway to the basement, a firm hand caught her arm. Before she knew what was going on, a pair of hard lips met her cheek.
“Goodnight,” he whispered softly into her ear.
Quinn remained in shock long after Puck had returned to the living room. Truthfully, Quinn had only been with two guys, Puck and Finn. In both relationships, she didn’t feel what she though she’d feel. With Finn, it was safe. He did what she told him, loved her unconditionally; but she never truly loved him back. From what she can remember, being with Puck was far from pleasant. Besides the fact she was drunk, he felt rough when he was inside of her, thrusting hard. Even when he kissed her it hurt; but in the hallway a few minutes ago, when he kissed her ever so softly, she considered maybe loving him. Then she remembered he’s an inconsiderate manwhore and that thought quickly dissipated.
Quinn finally went down to her “room” and showered and got ready to go to sleep. It was only 9:30, but she was exhausted. She gently lied down on her cot, rubbing her stomach affectionately. Her mind wandered from Puck and somehow landed upon Rachel Berry, her brown eyes, the feel of her hands massaging her hair. At the memory, Quinn smiled and the baby kicked, suddenly awake.
“You really like her, don’t you , baby?”
Her hand felt a small movement of approval. Quinn suddenly remembered her performance and her stomach immediately fluttered with butterflies. She was nervous, but not about getting up in front of the class; she was nervous about getting up in front of Rachel. Despite her torturous acts towards the brunette, Quinn has never hated Rachel. Quinn admired her, how even after two slushies the brunette still held her head high, her confidence never shaking. In fact, Quinn was jealous of Rachel. All her life she was taught to lie and put up a front tougher than steel. She was forced to please everyone, even if that meant changing who she is to do it. Rachel didn’t care what the rest of the world thought of her because she knows who she is. And all her life Quinn wanted the starlet’s approval.
“You know how to pick em, baby,” she whispered quietly and went on to sing the infant a lullaby. Her voice echoed through the basement, rang in the blonde’s ears. As she sang lovingly to her daughter, she though about what it’d be like to see the infant, raise her, sing to her each night, read her a story, watch her grow up. She couldn’t do it. Puck and she couldn’t do it. Even though he preached to her that he was reliable and would take care of her and the child, she doesn’t trust him. Doing it alone was not an option. She had no money, no home, and no support. She couldn’t do it, it wasn’t possible.
A tear fell from her hazel eyes as her mind battled in the dark. Her hands still held her stomach, massaging it in a way. Now that the pregnancy was almost done, she actually dreaded giving her daughter away. Feeling her kick, roll, and tumble about inside of her formed a connection between the two, a connection that would never die. A connection that would haunt the blonde for the rest of her life.