okay, so i wrote the miscarriage chapter a while ago and i saved it because i was really proud of it and i don't want it to go to waste so i'm gonna post it. xoxo
*
Brittany's Point of View
"How's Santana?" Quinn asks me through the phone as I'm putting away the dishes
"She was having cramps and she was really tired, so she's in bed taking a nap."
Quinn chuckles, "What are her cravings like?"
I groan, "Oh, my god. I've never seen her eat much. Yesterday for breakfast she had avocado toast and then for lunch she had a salad and then I made salmon, white rice, and yams for dinner. Then she ate pickles and ice cream. But at two in the morning, someone knocks on our door. She gets up and comes back into the room carrying a McDonald's bag."
Quinn laughs, "Sounds about right."
When I'm about to go into further detail, I hear Santana scream and then call my name. My heart jumps out of my throat and I begin to panic.
"Let me call you back."
I run into the bedroom and turn the lights on. Santana's in bed, sitting in a puddle of her own blood and, from what I can see, it's coming from her pants.
The first thing that pops into my head is miscarriage.
I'm remember reading about it because I knew miscarriage is a possibility with being pregnant.
I take a few deep breaths and kneel down in front of her. I take in what is happening and mentally prepare myself.
"It hurts." Santana cries, and she places a hand on her stomach
"What hurts?" I ask and I realize that I'm out of breath
"My back and my stomach," She looks at me and I see her eyes begin to fill with tears, "It's the baby."
I remember reading that bleeding doesn't automatically mean miscarriage, but there is a lot of blood and a lot of blood is never good.
Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.
I pick her phone up off of the nightstand and call our hospital. I place my hand on her knee and listen to it ring five times before someone picks up.
"Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, how can we help you?" A lady asks and more tears fall from her eyes
"Hey, um, this is Brittany Pierce and my wife, Santana Pierce, is pregnant and she just woke up from a nap in a pool of blood." I say really fast. Santana closes her eyes and breathes out,
You know when you have to say something out loud to actually believe it? Yeah, that just happens to me.
"Okay, and how far along is Santana?"
"Five weeks."
"And is there a lot of blood?" She asks and I almost smack her through the phone. Didn't I just tell her she woke up in a pool of blood?
"Uh, yeah."
I hear her type something into the computer and she clears her throat, "Are you able to bring her in or do you want us to send somebody?" Santana opens her eyes and more tears slip out.
"I can bring her." I say and I stand up and walk into the bathroom to grab her two towels that she can sit on in the car
"Okay," the lady says and her happy voice irritates me, "We'll be waiting for you guys."
I pack Santana a bag of underwear, pajamas, pads, wash cloth and soap, and toothbrush and toothpaste. Santana goes into the bathroom to change her pants and underwear and to put a pad on. When she walks towards the front door, I'm waiting with the bag on my shoulder, keys in one hand and heating pad in the other.
I did my research on this when we first found out she was pregnant because I wanted to be prepared for every and anything.
"It hurts," Santana cries in the elevator, with her body pressed against, "It hurts really bad."
I lay my head down on hers and close my eyes. I don't know if she's talking about her heart, back, or stomach. And I want to make everything better but the only thing I can do is drive her to the emergency room and hope for the best.
I read that the person should lay in the back seat with towels beneath them and a heating bag on their abdomen. Them laying down slows down the amount of blood being lost.
The card ride was very quiet and full of tension, as if should've been. I can hear Santana saying things to herself under her breath and her sniffles.
"Santana Pierce?" One of the nurses asks when we walk through the doors. Her voice sounds like the one I was on the phone with but I can't tell because all nurses sound a like to me. They all sound fake,
They roll a bed towards us and helps Santana onto it. She winces as she lays onto her back and places her left hand on her stomach.
"Brittany?" A male voice says as they wheel Santana into a room. I turn around and see Dr. Vazquez, the doctor who's going to deliver our baby or was, "What happened?"
"Santana was complaining about her having cramps and her being really tired, so she went and lashed down for a nap and then screamed and I ran into the room and that's when I saw the blood."
I've only told the story twice and I'm already getting tired of telling it. I just want something spectacular to happen.
There's a white board on Santana's door and he writes her name on it before we both walk in. Santana has stopped crying and is now nervously biting her lip. I walk over to her side and hold onto her hand that is clammy.
Vazquez and a nurse stand in the corner and whisper amongst themselves, occasionally looking at Santana. I hear the word "miscarriage" come out of their mouths once or twice and I really hope Santana didn't.
"Santana," Vazquez says as squirts hand sanitizer onto the palm of his hand and then rubbing it in, "I'm gonna do a pelvic exam to see if you're cervix is dilating. It's gonna hurt a little, but it's only gonna be a ten second thing."
He pulls Santana's shirt up and reveals her little stomach. He uses his pointer fingers to press down on both sides of her body and Santana squeezes my hand when she starts to feel a little sting. Vazquez looks at the nurse and shakes his head. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
"Okay," Vazquez says as his nurse brings the ultrasound equipment around, "I'm gonna do a quick ultrasound to check for a heartbeat." He rubs the gel onto her stomach and runs the thing over her stomach.
I smile thinking about the first time we did this, how happy we were to be going through this process but now we're both hating. I know she hates it more than me, but we have to stay positive.
We all look at the screen, but only he seems to know what he's looking for. He takes the thing off of her and looks back at his nurse and shakes his head again. I'm starting to think that this isn't going well.
He wipes the gel off of her stomach with a paper towel and tosses it in the garbage. The nurse wheels the cart back into the corner and writes something down on the clipboard she's holding. She walks out of the room and closes the door behind her.
Vazquez clears his throat and Santana squeezes my hand. I feel my anxiety levels shoot up from just waiting to hear what he has to say.
"Santana, you have had what we call a missed miscarriage," Vazquez says and the world stops. Santana's hand falls out of mine and I hear a whimper come out of her. I look down at her and tears begin to fall, "The fetus has died but your body hasn't recognized the pregnancy loss until now. Your cervix is dilated so we're gonna do a D&C procedure where we scrape your uterine lining to remove abnormal tissue."
His lips continue to move but all I can hear is Santana cry and that breaks my heart. He says one more thing before walking out of the room and leaving us alone.
"Brittany," Santana whispers and I look down at her. I can tell how sad and confused she is just by the way she looks at me. Seeing her like this really hurts me and I don't know what to do or say.
So, I just bend down and pull her into a hug. I bury my face into her neck and she wraps an arm around my neck, holding me closer. I cry into her neck and she cries onto my shirt and we stay Let this for the next two minutes.
"We're okay," I say, when I pull away. I kiss her on the lips and wipe her tears away, "You're okay."
I stop crying. I can't cry. I have to stay strong for her and not be so weak. We both lost the baby but she was the one carrying it and even though she never met her or him, they still had a connection.
A D&C procedure is only ten to fifteen minutes and they asked me to step outside while they do it. They gonna numb her cervix and then put her to sleep while to clean her out.
"I love you so much." I whisper into her ear before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead
When I walk out the room, I pull my phone out of my back pocket. I sit on one of the chairs in put my phone to my ear, covering my mouth with my free hand to stop any sobs from coming out.
"Hey Brittany." Mrs. Lopez says when she answers the phone after six rings
Tears begin to fill my eyes and I bite down on my bottom lip to stop from crying out.
"Hey," I say and a tear slides down my cheek, "We just, um, we just lost the baby."
Remember how I said you have to say things out loud to actually believe it? Yeah, that just happened again.
"Santana woke up from a nap and screamed and there was blood and I brought her to the hospital and they checked her out and told us that she had a miscarriage."
Now I'm sobbing and I don't sob. My elbow is resting on my thigh and my hand is covering my eyes and I bounce my knee up and down.
"Okay," Mrs. Lopez says really calmly, "Where is she now?"
"They're doing a light procedure on her where they clean her out. It only takes fifteen minutes."
"Okay its 6 over here, so that means that it's 3 by you guys and it's a four hour flight, so I'm gonna call Abuela and tell her to pack some clothes and we'll be on the next flight over to you guys." She says, still so calm. I don't know how she does it.
Seven minutes later she texts me and tells me that she'll be landing at 8 and that they'll come straight over here from the airport. I nod my head and take a deep breath.
I wanna say that everything is going to be okay, but I know it's not. It takes you a while to bounce back from something like this.
No more crying, Britt. No more crying.
"Brittany," a nurse says with her head sticking out of the room, "She's waking up now. You can come in."
I smile at her as I walk past her but then quickly turn my attention to Santana, who's looking up at the ceiling with no expression. I grab her hand and she looks at me and tears begin to fill her eyes again.
"The surgery went really well and we were able to get everything. We're gonna ask that she stays here for the night, so that she can bleed out whatever's left while she's here." Vazquez says and I nod my head, "She's also going to have to come back in a week to make sure that everything is healing okay and that there's no infection. She also cannot eat or drink for the next twelve hours. Any questions?" I look at him and shake my head and he smiles before leaving us alone again.
"I called your mom and told her what happened. Her and your Abuela will be here later on tonight." I whisper, scared that if I say it any louder she might break. She looks down at her hands and then up at me.
"I'm gonna go take a shower." Her voice cracks and she slowly gets out of bed and brings the bag I packed with her into the bathroom
About thirty minutes later, she walks back out in an old cheer shirt and a pair of pajama pants. I knew the blankets here at the hospital are thin, so I brought her one from the house and she covers herself with it.
"Can you lay with me?" She asks me and her voice cracks when she asks
I nod my head and she scoots over to make room in the small bed. I lay on my back and and she lays her head on my shoulder. She starts to cry and I rub her back.
"I can't believe this is happening," she cries and she bunches my shirt in her hand, "To us."
I remember reading that after a miscarriage, your emotions go all over the place. First it's, shock and denial, next it's guilt and anger, then it's depression and despair, and finally it's acceptance. I already know that shock and denial is gonna go by really quick and that guilt and anger is gonna be hard, but the worst one is going to be depression.
When she gets really sad, she shuts down...completely. She doesn't wanna talk to anybody or do anything because she just wants to be alone in her room. It's gonna be hard to get her to acceptance, but I'm gonna help her get through everything before that.
I hold Santana in my arms and continue to rub her back while she cries. Vazquez and a few of his nurses come in to check on her throughout the hours, but nothing really changes. We try to make small talk, but everything just ends in her crying.
When Santana's finally calmed down and is now just looking at nothing, my phone begins to vibrate in my lap. I pick it up and see that Scooter is calling me.
"Do you want me to tell him or..." I ask, showing her the caller I.D
She nods her head and I get out of the bed and walk out of the room, out of the lobby, and out front.
"Hey." I say and I look down at my feet
"I've been calling Santana all day and she hasn't answered. Is everything okay?" He asks and I clear my throat, preparing myself to tell the story once again
"No, not really," I whisper, "Um, we lost the baby today."
"What?"
"Santana had a miscarriage and she just got out of surgery."
"Oh, my god. Are you guys okay? Is she okay?"
"She will be. She's just going through the motions." I sniffle, "We all are."
"Wow. Um, what hospital are you guys at?"
"Ronald Reagan Medical Center."
"I'll come over there in the morning to see her," Scooter let's out a deep breath, "Shit. Um, tell Tana that it's all love coming her way."
I walk back into the room and see that Santana's crying again. I close my eyes and lay next to her and she lays her head on my chest again. I run my fingers through the ends of her hair in an attempt to try to calm her down. She likes when I run my fingers through her hair; it's comforting.
I still don't cry. I'm just letting it all build up, and I'll let it fall when it's just me. I don't want her to see me cry.
"This isn't happening, it can't be happening." Santana says over and over again
As I'm standing in the corner talking to Dr. Vazquez about medication, her mom and Abuela come into the room with their luggage.
"Mommy." Santana says and her lays in the bed next to her and pulls her against her chest. Santana begins to cry again and I bite down on my bottom lip.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Vazquez," he says and he shakes her Abuela's hand, "I was just discussing medication options and she has two options: misoprostol pills, which are placed into the vagina and helps the bleeding last for another three to five hours or she can just use a heating pad and ibuprofen to deal with the cramps, and just act like she's on her period."
"What do you want, mija?" Her mom asks and Santana wipes her eyes
"I want to go home."
"If she does the pills that go inside her..." I say and he nods his head, "she will still have to stay her over night?"
Dr. Vazquez nods, "Either way, the bleeding is going to be done by tomorrow."
"She'll be fine with the heating pad and ibuprofen." Her mom and he nods before walking out
I look feel somebody looking at me, so I look over and see Santana staring at me but she looks away when she realizes I'm staring back. Tears begin to fill her eyes again and her mom and Abuela whisper things in her ear.
I can't take it. I can't see her like this.
So, I run out the room and press my back against the wall, sliding down it. I cry into my knees and let it all out. Santana was that one out of ten women to have a miscarriage. The percent for having a miscarriage at our age is very low, but it still happened.
I feel someone hand on my shoulder and I look up and see Mrs. Lopez. I sniffle and wipe my eyes.
"This is all too much," I breath out, my voice shaky, "This wasn't supposed to us. This wasn't supposed to happen to her."
"This shouldn't happen to anybody, but it does." She says as she leans her back against the wall also
"I don't know what to do or what to say, because I feel like it's only going to make it worse." I smile and look straight ahead, "Five weeks ago, we were the happiest couple when we found out she was pregnant, but now it's just, like, a big blur. You know? And I know it's okay for me to hurt, but not when she was the one carrying the baby. I want to be so strong for her and not cry, but its hard when everything is going wrong and you can't do anything to fix it. This isn't fixable. I use to be so good at turning sad things into happy things but I can't with this because it's over. It's all over." I begin to cry into my knees again and Mrs. Lopez throws her arm over my shoulder and pulls me against her
"Right now, we just have to make sure that she knows it's not her fault and that you know it's not your fault. You guys did everything you guys could and no ones mad at you." Mrs. Lopez says and I wipe my eyes, "Just keep reminding her that you love her and remind yourself that she loves you. We all know that Santana is tough but her shell is easily broken and the only thing that fix her shell is all of us loving her."
I nod my head and stand up. Mrs. Lopez pulls me into a hug and kisses me on the cheek before walking back into the room. I wrap my hair up into a messy bun and walk back into the room.
Santana is spinning her ring around her finger when I walk I walk in, but she stops when she sees me. I bite down on my bottom lip and sit down on the chair, since the bed is currently occupying three bodies.
At 9:30, the nurse tells them that visiting hours are over and that Santana has to choose on person to stay with her for the night. She automatically chooses her Abuela, leaving her mom and I to go back to the house.
It makes me kind of sad that she didn't pick me but it's okay. She needs someone like that to be with her in a time like this. Someone older and much more wiser.
I walk over to Santana and sit on the edge of the bed. I grab her hand and she looks away from me, not wanting to make eye contact.
"I love you." I whisper before placing a soft kiss on her cheek
She bites down on her bottom lip and nods her head, her eyes beginning to fill with tears again.
When Mrs. Lopez and I get back to the house, I make the guest room up for her. When she's completely settled in, I walk into my bedroom. I take all of the dirty sheets off and put on clean sheets. I take a shower and wash my hair to try to help myself feel better but it doesn't work. I just want to lay with Santana in our bed with her in my arms.
As I'm getting under the covers, my phone wakes and I'm hit with all of these twitter notifications. I furrow my eyebrows and open the app.
just saw @brittanypierce leaving the hospital....is everything okay?? ❤️
Then there's the likes, and retweets, and comments and dms and I can't take it. The last thing she needs is this to be out. It's only going to cause more stress and problems that she doesn't need.
It's fine. I turn my phone off and set it on the charger. This will all be over in the morning.
But it's not.
I wake up at eight and get dressed in a pair of jeans and a zip up sweater. I brush my hair up into a high ponytail before walking into the living room, where Mrs. Lopez is sitting on the couch looking at her phone?
"Did you see?" She asks and I roll my eyes
"Someone's always watching." I say as I pour myself a cup of orange juice
@brittanypierce @santanaaa is the baby okay?
@brittanypierce @santanaaa omg , i hope the baby is okay
@brittanypierce @santanaaa we love you two
everybody come to Ronald Reagan hospital to support @brittanypierce @santanaaa
"I'm gonna stop and get a smoothie for Santana from Whole Foods, do you want anything?" I ask when we're in the car
"No thank you." She says, giving me a warm and comforting smile
Santana's favorite smoothies contains of strawberries, mango, pineapple, raspberries, blue berries , bananas, and oats. It always makes her smile.
When we get to the hospital there's a small crowd of people standing by the door callinag my name as I get closer. There's also two guys holding cameras and they begin to take photos of me as I walk closer.
"Is everything okay?"
"Is the baby okay?"
"Where's Santana?"
A big mistake celebrities make is talking to fans and paparazzi at times like this. They either make the problem too small or too big, and most of the time it's too big.
When I walk into the room, Santana sitting up and is on her phone. She looks up at me and then at the drink in my hand. Her eyes are red and puffy and she has really deep and dark bags underneath them and she's still so beautiful.
"Got you your favorite," I say as she takes it from my hands and I sit on the edge of the bed, "How do you feel?"
She shrugs her shoulders and takes a very short sip from the plastic cup before placing it next to her on the table. She gets back on her phone and clears her throat.
"They're all gonna know it's my fault," she says and I shake my head, "Us losing the baby was all my fault."
Guilt.
"It wasn't your fault." I say and she rolls her eyes
"Then who's fault was it? I was the one carrying the baby and I'm the one who had the miscarriage. Right now all fingers are pointing at me." She says and tears begin to fall out of her face
"No ones blaming you for anything," Mrs. Lopez says and Santana looks down at her ring and twists it around her finger
About thirty minutes later, Scooter comes storming in. I roll my eyes because I already know he's going to complain about what's happening outside.
"Why's there a crowd of fans and a handful of paparazzi?" He asks us, but he only looks at me when he asks it
"Why do you think? We're almost trending on Twitter." I say, a bit too harsh and everyone gives me a funny look
Scooter clears his throat and turns his attention to Santana, "How are you feeling?"
Santana shifts in the bed a little and licks her lips, "I don't know. You tell me. How would you feel if you just found out that the baby you've only been carrying for five weeks has just fucking died inside of you?"
Anger.
Scooter looks at me and I bite down on my bottom lip. I can't say anything because I have to let her deal with this how she wants.
"I feel like shit, Scoot. Like shit." Santana says, a bit more lower and softer
Vazquez walks in with the brightest smile on his face and it irritates me.
"Are we all ready?" He asks and we nod our heads, "Great. Don't forget to come in next week Saturday for a checkup."
I sign Santana out at the front desk while they get her situated. I take a cherry Jolly Rancher out the jar for Santana because the cherry ones are her favorite. I hold it out to her but she shakes her head, turning it down. She hasn't drank the smoothies I got her either and she always drinks them.
"How do you wanna leave?" Scooter asks, looking between Santana and I
"I can walk to the fucking car," Santana says, already walking towards the doors, "I lost my baby, not my legs."
I close my eyes for a few seconds and try to not let what she just said bother me.
First, they all gasp when we walk out. Then the sound of flashing cameras and screaming fans sound.
"Santana, are you okay?"
"Is the baby okay?"
"Can we take a picture?"
I'm glad that they don't follow us to the car because if they did then Santana would be probably lost more than half of her fans. She just needs to be away from all social media platforms.
Santana gets into the backseat with her mom and Abuela sits upfront with me. Scooter knocks on my window and I roll it down.
"It's would be smart to go on Twitter and tweet something along the lines of you guys wanting privacy and if they can all respect that and give you space." Scooter whispers, so that only I can hear him, "You dont have to do it today. You can wait for new to spread and then post it or you can post it now. Completely up to you."
"Okay, Scoot."
"Santana," he says and she looks at him with those red eyes, "I love you and I'll be checking on you later." Santana nods and looks back out the window.
When we get home Santana doesn't say anything to anyone. She just goes right into the bedroom and showers. We give her her space because we all know that's what she wants.
@brittanypierce tweeted : santana and i are going through a really hard time right now and we would both really appreciate if you guys could give us space. we love each and every one of you deeply but we want to deal with this with each other ❤️
A few seconds later, Santana retweets it.
Santana stays in our room for the rest of the day. We each go in there one by one and try to get her to open up but nothing works. I offered to pick her up whatever she wants to eat but she turned me down.
Each time I went in there she was either on her phone, crying, or staring up at the ceiling or at a wall.
Depression.
Santana was like that for the next three days. She didn't come out of that room for anything. And I made me sad because I didn't know what to do. And we weren't intimate. I mean , I don't expect Santana to wanna make out or anything, but she didn't want me to hold her until she fell asleep. She didn't want to do any of the little things we did before all of this took place.
In the group chat, that contains all of our friends, they all sent hearts and 'I love you.' I replied for both us because Santana wasn't answering any texts. I know she saw them because she was on her phone, but she didn't reply.
And then it hit me. She was missing something- someone.
Her dad.
He was always able to make her feel better and make her smile when I couldn't. And that's why I flew him out here and why he's standing in the kitchen, wondering how he's going to approach her.
"Santana's a tough cookie. You can't just walk up to her and be like 'get out of bed.' You have to actually give her a whole essay on how everything is going to be okay." Mr. Lopez says and I laugh because he's telling the truth, "If I'm not out in thirty minutes, call the cops."
Mr. Lopez likes to brighten the mood by telling jokes. I like to make the situation happy. Mrs. Lopez goes out and buys things. And Abuela make rice and beans.
Mr. Lopez walks out twenty minutes later; I was counting. We all watch him as he walks into the kitchen and makes himself a plate of food. He doesn't say anything.
He turns towards me and I see a wet spot on his chest. His eyes are a little red and puffy and he's constantly sniffling. We continue to stare at him and wait for him to say something.
He clears his throat, "It's bad."
I let out a deep breath, "I know."
"I've seen her cry for twenty-two years, but..." his voice cracks and Mrs. Lopez places a hand on his back, "I've never seen her like that. The cry and the sadness just isn't her and.." he clears his throat and stands up straight, "And right now she needs you to go in there."
I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head, "She doesn't wanna see me."
"She does but she won't admit it. She's gonna keep pushing you away until you invade her space." Mr. Lopez says and I run a hand through my hair
I slowly get off of the stool and walk towards my room. My heart beats faster and faster as I get closer and closer. My hand hangs on the doorknob for a few seconds before I open the door.
Santana's laying on her side, her back facing me, and she's crying softly. I climb into bed and contemplate on if I should hold her or just sit here like an idiot.
She needs to be held.
I push my chest against her back and lay my head on hers. I go to place my hand on her stomach, but I stop myself because I don't know how she feels about that. So, I rest my hand on my side.
"Talk to me," I whisper, "Tell me what's going on."
"I failed you," She says after a moment of silence, "I let you down. You trusted me to carry this baby and I couldn't. You probably hate me."
"Are you kidding me? You didn't fail me and I could never hate you. I love you so much, Santana, and this isn't gonna cause me to stop."
"I would hate me. I do hate me."
"This wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault. Santana, you gotta stop blaming yourself for what happened."
She covers her eyes with her left hand and begins to cry.
"I feel empty. This baby made me feel something and now that it's gone I-I feel nothing."
"Let me help you feel something," I say and she shakes her head, "Let me help you out of this. I can't do much from out there. Let me in," I bite down on my bottom lip and tears begin to fill my eyes, "It hurts me to see you like this. After all these years I see you. I know you. You don't think I know you? I know your struggles and your fears and I love you for them. I want you to share your dark places with me. So I can help you heal, so we can help each other heal. So, my love can show you you're enough. Because for me you're everything."
"I failed you, Brittany," she says again, "Why don't you hate me?"
I move my hand onto her stomach and I feel her body go stiff. As I'm about to pull my hand away she places hers on top of mine.
"I don't hate you, Santana, because you are the love of my life and there's too much love inside of me to ever hate you," I close my eyes and start to rub her stomach, "I'm gonna help you get out of this. You have the right to grieve and you can grieve for as long as you want, but I'm not leaving you alone. We're gonna get through this together. Okay?"
"Okay." Santana whispers and I kiss her cheek
We lay here for a few minutes and breathe. This is the closest me and Santana have been since Saturday. I'm really enjoying it.
"Your Abuela made rice and beans and I have your favorite episode of The Office ready to play in the living room," I say and I feel her smile, "Are you ready to get out of this room?"
"I don't know."
"Okay," I say before kissing her on the cheek, "I'll be out there waiting."
I get off of the bed and walk out of the bedroom. I rub my eye as I walk into the kitchen where the three of them are waiting to hear what happened.
"We're gonna get there." I say to them as I make myself a plate
I sit at the island and begin to eat and we make normal conversation. Santana walks into the kitchen and wrap her arms around her dad. He says something in her ear and she nods her head.
"Are you hungry?" Her grandma asks, "I made your favorite."
Santana sits next to me as her Abuela makes her a plate. She looks down at the food and bites down on her bottom lip. I place my hand on her thigh and give it a light squeeze, telling her that it's okay.
She doesn't eat much of it. We're not gonna force her to eat, especially not at a time like this. Once everybody's eaten, we all go into the living room to watch her favorite episode of The Office. It's the one where Dwight gives Stanley a heart attack.
Surprisingly, Santana sits with me and not in between her parents. She lays her head on my chest and I place my hand on her lower back. Whenever she would zone out, I would kiss her forehead. Santana hates zoning out.
Her favorite character in the show is Dwight. He makes her laugh the most and there was light laughter coming from her while we were watching it and that made all of us happy.
"I'm gonna go to bed now," Santana says as she gets off of the couch, "Love you guys." She gives everyone a kiss before walking back into the room.
I go into the kitchen to box the food and wash the dishes. Mrs. Lopez comes into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine.
"Santana is always so calm around you," She says as she takes a seat at the island, "She's not the girl with the bad mouth when she's with you." I laugh and shrug my shoulders.
"Help yourself to whatever," I say to herself as I finish the last of the dishes, "I am going to bed."
Santana's in the dark and on her phone when I walk in. I only take my pants off, leaving me in a hoodie, before getting in bed. Santana scoots over and lays most of her body on me. I wrap my arms around her waist and she snuggles her face into my neck.
"When you left for college, one of the things I really missed was your laugh because with your laugh comes a smile and your smile just makes everything better." I whisper and I feel her smile against my neck
"I love you, Brittany."
"I love you, too, Santana."