Words 12
"How tedious is a guilty conscience!" John Webster
Once, when Rachel was a child of about 8 or 9 years old, there was this other girl in her class that was very talented, more talented than her she had to admit. Her name was Marise.
The teacher would always stop by Marise to give her a compliment or to take her as an example for the other children to see the proper way of executing their exercises. When their teacher created their group's choreography for the annual show, Marise being her favourite, she gave her a more prominent part. Since it was from common use for their teacher to show to all of them every single part of the dance, Rachel got to learn Marise part too. She rehearsed it in her room until she could execute it perfectly, but, still, she couldn't perform it nearly as good as her classmate. Now, Rachel could have admitted her defeat, but she hated not to be the one in the spotlight which she considered her rightful place.
A few days before the show, Rachel was playing in the park when she saw Marise sitting on top of the monkey bars, swaying her feet happily as she stared at the kids running below her. At first, when Rachel climbed up there, it was only to have a conversation - which they did indeed have- but, then, she started paying attention to how gracefully the other girl's hand moved when she talked and she got jealous. It just didn't seem fair to her that, no matter how hard she worked, she could never be as good as Marise.
It was at that moment that the idea crossed her mind.
"I have to admit that I am deeply impressed by how comfortable you seem in this position." She told the other girl.
"I know! My mom's always scared I'll fall down, but I never do" Marise replied laughing.
"Have you ever tried walking on top of the monkey bars? I'm sure you could do it" Rachel exclaimed with exaggerated admiration.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea. My mom wouldn't like it."
"You are probably the most agile person I know. You would have to be very unlucky for something bad to happen to you." Rachel insisted.
Marise glanced from side to side, nervously, before slowly getting up. Rachel could see the fear in the other girl's eyes, but the adrenaline rushing through her veins stopped her from thinking of the consequences of what she was about to do.
"Wait!" She said, bringing her knees against the cold metal and rising a little. "I want to try it too!" Then, all she had to do was to pretend to lose her balance, look like she was trying to catch it back by grasping Marise's hand, and push her to the grown.
She wasn't exactly sure when she realized how wrong it was. It might have been when she heard the girl's cry of pain or when she saw her disappear in an ambulance, but she didn't truly feel guilty until her next ballet class when she saw Marise sitting in a corner with a cast on her arm.
She was the first one to sign it.
"I hope you'll get better soon! We'll miss you" She wrote.
And, when the teacher gave her Marise's part, instead of being happy like she thought she would have, Rachel felt ashamed.
She went to visit Marise at her house every day until her cast was gone, bringing her cookies, and filling her in on what she had missed. When the poor girl came to see her perform, Rachel gave her the flower bouquet her fathers had bought for her.
"It should have been yours!" She told her. It was her way of saying sorry.
"You're the best friend in the entire world" The other girl replied engulfing her in a hug.
The year after, Marise moved away and Rachel was back at being the best of her class.
That Sunday morning, when Rachel woke up, she realized she had spent the night dreaming of Marise. Santana's teary face came back to her mind and she felt guilty. It was the second night in a row she had spent having these strange nightmares. It was probably for that reason that she ended up driving to the Latina's house with a box of homemade cookies.
When the door opened on Santana dressed in a football shirt and black lace underwear, an odour of cologne and man's sweat hit her nose. Rachel, disgusted, immediately felt like turning back.
"Don't worry. He's gone" The Latina told her. She stretched lazily and her eyes fell on the box in Rachel's hands. "What's that?"
"I made you some cookies." Santana narrowed her eyes and scowled.
"Why?" Rachel sighed and indicated the inside of the house.
"Can I get in?"Santana crossed her arms over her chest and moved to the side.
Rachel closed the door and stuffed her box into the Latina's unwilling hands. She, then, proceeded into removing her winter attire under the other girl's glare. She wasn't even finished that Santana had already moved into another room with an indifferent sway to her hips. The singer started wondering why she had had the foolish idea to pay an unexpected visit to the cold brunette.
She spent a fair amount strolling around the sumptuous rooms of her classmate's impressive house before she found her sitting down on an uncomfortable leather couch in what Rachel guessed was their family room. Santana's body was draped in a blanket. Her attention was concentrated on a television which was screening a childish cartoon. One of her hand was holding a half-eaten cookie and she was vaguely smiling.
Rachel made her way towards and sat down on the couch with her back straight. A nagging feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach which made her feel like running away, but, instead, she reached for the cookie box which was now displayed on a small wooden table and took the smallest one of the bunch. She nibbled it lightly, hoping it would relieve her from her tension.
"I'm sorry I was sick in your car." She whispered shamefully.
"My father was pissed off." Santana replied with her attention still focused on the screen.
Rachel tried to follow the childish story portrayed by the cartoon, but her nerves were stopping her from appreciating it. She wasn't exactly sure where Santana had developed her taste in movies and TV shows, maybe it came from spending too much time with a childlike teenager. Rachel found it, not only extremely uninteresting to watch, but, also, in deep contrast with the image the Latina tended to project.
Santana suddenly exploded in a loud sounding laughter. When she finished wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes, she took another bite of her cookie and dropped her head on her free hand.
"What did you do last night?" Rachel asked her, tired of being ignored, but immediately regretted her question when she remembered how the Latina was dressed.
"Jack and I fucked all night." Santana replied in a neutral tone. She briefly glanced at Rachel before putting her cookie down on the table and getting up. "Would you like some milk?"
"No, I don't drink milk." Santana stopped on her way out of the room to frown at her answer. Rachel shrugged her shoulder. She knew the Latina wouldn't understand her life style so she let her disappear without giving her an explanation of what it was like to be a vegan.
When she came back, Santana was juggling with a glass of milk and what seemed to be various packages of candies.
"We used to- I used to-There's a cupboard full of these and I don't like eating them alone" She said dropping them all over the diva's laps. "Chose your favourite!"
Rachel blinked with surprise. She looked into Santana's dark eyes, trying to read an ulterior motive, before hesitantly picking a licorice bag. The Latina shrugged her shoulders, carefully placed her milk glass on the table, sat back on the couch, took a lollipop, and slipped it into her mouth. She started sucking it suggestively before winking and laughing at the singer's horrified expression. Then, she took the remote control, threw her legs over Rachel's laps, and picked another channel.
"Do you like Jersey Shore?" She asked her.
"I've never seen that show before." Rachel replied.
"You're such a loser." Santana bent towards the other girl and dropped the remote between her legs. "Change it if you don't like it."
Rachel scrunched her nose at her repulsive smell.
"Don't you shower in the morning? You're corporal odour is absolutely revolting." Santana gave her a light kick of the heel.
"Last time I checked morning is not over." Then, she smirked. "I think someone's jealous 'cause she's not getting any."
"Hardly."
Santana snickered and, even though it was hard for her to do so, Rachel had to admit that spending time with the other brunette wasn't as bad as she first thought.
part13