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It was the worst telephone call of her life.
A call from Shelby was usually exciting, usually the highlight of her week, or month, depending on the call frequency. It had been awhile since she’d heard from Shelby and Beth, so it didn’t seem out of place.
She’d answered, fully expecting Shelby to happily pass the phone to Beth after some small talk. That’s how it usually went. Shelby would greet her, tell her briefly how things were going, and then get Beth, who could tell her herself how she was. Beth was a teenager now, and was getting a little aloof and moody, but Quinn still enjoyed their talks, and she thought Beth did, too.
But this time, as soon as she answered, she could tell from Shelby’s voice that something was wrong.
“There’s been an accident,” Shelby said, her voice raw with tears, but steady.
Quinn dropped the phone.
Rachel hadn’t been sure what to expect when she had an incoming call from Shelby. They weren’t close, not really, but they talked on occasion. Now that Beth was a teenager, Shelby seemed even more upset with herself for missing out on a relationship with Rachel when she was a teenager. Their phone calls usually elicited a mixture of emotions from Rachel, some hurt, some regret, some bittersweet joy.
This one had only one emotion tied to it.
“Beth is…” Shelby hadn’t even really been able to complete the sentence, but Rachel knew. Rachel understood right away. She even understood why Shelby was calling. Rachel cared about Beth, sure, but they weren’t close. Shelby was calling because she needed her other daughter there, she needed the support of family during the painful process of saying goodbye to Beth.
But Rachel didn’t go to the funeral for Shelby, not really. She went for Beth. For the little girl she’d known practically since her conception, for the little girl who’d had the mother she always wanted, for the little girl who Quinn had held and then said goodbye to and then who had been mourned for the next two years.
For that little girl, who had brought Rachel and Quinn close, for just a minute, and who had deserved so much more than the short, happy life she’d had.
She hadn’t expected to see Rachel there, but when she did, she wasn’t really surprised. It made sense.
Rachel approached her right away, her face grief-stricken. Quinn knew she must look the same. Rachel reached for her, and Quinn fell into her arms.
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel murmured. Quinn just squeezed tighter, her eyes blurring. She couldn’t speak.
Rachel couldn’t explain it, but seeing Quinn hurt far more than seeing Shelby. Both women were keeping relatively composed as people filed in for the funeral service, but it was Quinn who broke Rachel’s heart, and it was Quinn who Rachel hugged first.
She hadn’t seen Quinn in years, not since college, but they still fell into a hug effortlessly. Rachel didn’t want to let go.
Shelby said her name, nearby, and Rachel pulled away from Quinn delicately to give Shelby a perfunctory hug. Shelby gave her a watery smile and pulled back to give her a thorough, searching look. “You look good,” Shelby told her.
“Thanks,” Rachel said awkwardly, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Shelby pursed her lips and looked away, trying to keep composed. Rachel had to keep moving, past them, over where she could find a seat. She was glad the casket was closed. She didn’t want to see the skinny teenager with Quinn’s jawline and Puck’s cheekbones.
The funeral service seemed to fly by as Quinn felt more and more out of place. She was here for Shelby, it seemed, to help support her, because no one else in attendance seemed to have any idea what Beth meant to her. Shelby was the mother, and Quinn was…who? Nobody knew her. Puck hadn’t been able to make it, apparently; last Quinn heard, he was working over in Europe somewhere. He probably didn’t have time to travel. The only other person there who seemed to understand was Rachel.
Quinn hadn’t begrudged Shelby for being Beth’s mother for years, but today, it screamed inside of her. It screamed that she was Beth’s mother, and she had lost her blood, her baby, and no one had any idea what that felt like.
Except Rachel, who kept meeting her eyes across the room, grounding Quinn, and making the screaming in her guts quiet for a moment.
Rachel could see Quinn’s turmoil, but didn’t know what to do. She stood next to Quinn during the burial, watched as some of Shelby’s friends, clearly a group of gay theater types, carried the casket to the gravesite. As the casket lowered into the ground, Quinn grabbed her hand and squeezed, hard. Rachel squeezed back, until, hands still joined, they both leaned over to grab a handful of earth to sprinkle on the casket.
The group moved back inside for the reception. Guests had prepared and brought food, and Rachel felt bad for a moment for neglecting to do so. Though, honestly, she hadn’t expected to stay this long. She was here for Quinn, now.
But where was Quinn? She searched, frantically. Had Quinn left? And she saw her, down the hall, hurrying away.
Rachel followed.
Quinn couldn’t bear it anymore. She watched everyone offering comfort to Shelby, offering her food. She saw Shelby smile at their kindness, and she walked away.
She didn’t know if she could allow herself to leave yet, so she found a bathroom down the hall and stepped in. She stared at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes lingered on every single feature she shared with Beth, and she wanted to smash the mirror.
She caught movement behind her in the mirror and turned quickly. Rachel was there, standing uncertainly in the doorway.
They stared at one another for a long moment.
“Quinn, I…” Rachel started, but she stopped. She seemed to not know what to say.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Quinn told her roughly.
“I wish I could find the right words,” Rachel murmured, stepping fully inside and letting the door swing shut behind her.
“There are no right words.”
“No. I know. I just wish…” Rachel stopped, shook her head, and continued on doggedly, “I wish she could’ve grown up to become as beautiful as you.”
“Stop,” Quinn croaked.
“I’m sorry. I just wish everyone else could see how badly you were suffering right now.”
“Stop,” Quinn could barely see, but she surged forward, pressing Rachel against the door.
For a moment, Rachel felt like she was in high school again, and Quinn was a bully. Except that Quinn never touched her like this, even at her angriest.
Except that Quinn never grabbed her hair and tilted her face up to meet hers.
Except that Quinn never kissed her, messily, to shut her up.
Rachel moaned thoughtlessly for a moment, because the entire length of Quinn’s body was pressed against hers as her tongue swept roughly past her lips. It wasn’t Rachel’s favorite way to be kissed, so she pressed back, her fingernails scratching at the back of Quinn’s neck as she moved her own mouth against Quinn’s, controlling this kiss.
Quinn moaned, now, and Rachel felt it reverberate all through her body.
Quinn’s hands roughly cupped Rachel’s breasts through her shirt, and then struggled with the shirt buttons. Rachel helped, still pressed against the door, still kissing her, until her shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and Quinn was pulling her breast out of her bra. She pinched Rachel’s nipple, hard, causing Rachel to almost squeal. Quinn lifted a hand, covering Rachel’s mouth, as her own mouth lowered.
It was half agony, half ecstasy, the way Quinn’s mouth moved over her breast. So much teeth and tongue, causing a storm of pain and arousal to break over and over inside Rachel. Rachel whimpered against Quinn’s hand, gripping Quinn’s hair hard. She pulled at the hair, once, when Quinn bit too hard, and Quinn stifled her own moan against Rachel’s breast.
Quinn stood up and pushed Rachel back completely against the door, though Rachel hadn’t really moved from it. Quinn’s thigh pressed between her legs, and Rachel pressed back, her eyes rolling back in her head. She felt like she was absolutely throbbing against Quinn’s thigh, and her head tipped back against the door as she gasped, trying to keep quiet. Quinn just watched her with hazy eyes, her mouth parted, her cheeks flushed. Rachel could see, in the mirror behind Quinn, how Quinn moved against her, languid yet rough. She looked away. She couldn’t bear to see the pleasure on her own face.
At once, Rachel became aware that she was making tiny sounds in her throat, as the storm boiled in her belly. Quinn’s hand was there again, covering her mouth, stifling the noise, as Quinn continued to watch her. Rachel had to touch her. She wrenched away enough to make some space between their bodies, and then her hand slid up Quinn’s dress to find her panties.
Without preamble or permission, Rachel pushed the panties aside to press against the wetness she found there. Quinn shuddered, her body relaxing for the first time. “Fuck, Quinn, you’re so—” the rest of the words cut off as Quinn replaced her hand over Rachel’s mouth, and then her other hand started pushing down on Rachel’s head.
Rachel complied, falling to her shaky knees, her own body a mess of need, and allowed Quinn to push her head under her dress. Rachel pulled the panties aside again and pressed gingerly with her tongue. She could feel more than hear Quinn’s shuddery breath as Rachel’s tongue pressed and flicked. With her other hand, Rachel slid two fingers inside. She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to feel Quinn come against her face.
It didn’t take long, for Quinn’s hips to start rolling against Rachel’s movements. Rachel felt fingers in her hair, gentle at first, then gripping. She felt tightness around her fingers and continued to flick her tongue steadily.
She felt Quinn’s orgasm more than anything else, felt it in the pulsing around her fingers, the jerking of her hips against her face, the pulling on her hair. She felt Quinn’s gasping breath, and she felt Quinn pull away quickly and help Rachel to her feet. Then, Rachel’s back was against the door again, and Quinn’s thigh was between her legs again, and Quinn was back to moving against her, as if that orgasm hadn’t just happened. Except that the evidence was all over Rachel’s face. She tried to wipe at it, but Quinn’s hand was there, doing it for her, and all Rachel could do was hold on and ride Quinn’s thigh.
Quinn’s hand moved, then, pinching and rolling Rachel’s nipple, and her mouth was on Rachel’s neck, biting hard enough to leave marks. Rachel’s eyes rolled back as her orgasm completely snuck up on her, but Quinn’s lips were there to swallow her moans and whimpers as she bucked against Quinn’s thigh. Rachel felt a shuddery moan in her own mouth and realized, abruptly, that Quinn had come again while pressing against Rachel.
They caught their breath, foreheads pressed together, until Quinn pulled away slowly. Rachel kissed her nose. Quinn looked away, and moved into a bathroom stall. Rachel washed her hands and face, straightened her clothing, and stepped outside the bathroom to wait.
Quinn emerged a few minutes later, her own clothing straightened. She looked at Rachel for a long moment, gave her a sad half-smile, and turned and left.
“Quinn, wait,” Rachel called, but Quinn didn’t slow or turn. Rachel followed, watching as Quinn got into her car and drove away.
They never spoke again.