Yeah, I know; I took forever with this chapter, but here it is. I had some major writers block with this chapter; I had two scenarios written and was so sure that I was going to upload the other scenario, but at the last second I changed my mind and decided to go with this one instead. Also, the whole Samcedes kiss wasn't helping my Fabrevans mood. Ew! This one is pretty long, beyond 10,000 words, don't get bored with me. Anyways, enjoy!
We just sat there, all three of us; not talking, not moving, just lost in our own thoughts. At least I was lost in my own thoughts. Could there have been any bigger of a bombshell dropped? Probably not, but I wasn't going to test that. The last time one of us had said something was when Brittany had uttered the name: Sam Evans. There it was; said out loud and in the open, there was no denying it. I don't know when, but somehow I found myself clutching my lower abdomen.
This was scary. Beyond scary; and odd, and shocking, and confusing, and implausible (if I do say so myself), and perplexed, and… I could go on and on, but for all sake, I won't. I was carrying Sam Evans baby. It doesn't get anymore simpler than that. I had nothing to say to that; no response, nothing. I didn't know what to say; or for that matter what to feel. Should I be happy? Sad? Mad? Upset? Worried? I don't know.
I'm staring at the white wall facing my bed, while Santana and Brittany are staring at me, waiting for a reaction they weren't going to get. The tray of food the nurse had brought in, a while ago, remained untouched on the revolving table in front of me. The flowers that were brought in a few moments ago, which were new and I had planned to inspect them, were just sitting on the bedside table. I didn't know what to do.
Sam Evans. That's all that was going through my head at the moment. Sam. Evans. When the hell did this happen? I was pregnant with Sam Evans baby; how? We had of have sex…unless, I was desperate and Sam was a sperm donor, but that seems too far-fetched to be dwelled on, so I didn't, even though everything was far-fetched now. So Sam and I were together? I didn't remember anything of that, and he didn't mention it at all. If we were together, why wouldn't he mention it?
Wait; Braden had said that Sam was just recently divorced because his wife was impregnated by another man. Recently divorced? How recently? One month recently? Because that's how far I was along and we had to have had sex one month ago. Maybe I was just the rebound girl. Maybe that's why Sam hadn't said anything about that; because he didn't love me. To think he did love me was way too fanciful, on my part. Had he known about the baby? If he had, he would've told me that he was the father, even if he didn't love me…right? Why didn't he tell me? Maybe he didn't know. That was possible, maybe I didn't tell him because it might've been a rebounding one night stand, in which Sam was lonely and I loved him so I let it happen. If that was the case, it wasn't his fault.
Yep, I loved Sam Evans. My former mind told me that; my three months ago mind. Sam Evans was the one love I had been holding on since high school. That was as accurate as it gets. I loved him; unconditionally and irrevocably. Okay, when did I start sounding like Bella Swan? There was just no other way to say it. I didn't know how it went down, or how it happened, but in a way I was relived that the father of my baby wasn't some psycho path or criminal or something. Nothing against psycho paths, or criminals. There was nothing I could do about this situation, I was stuck with it. Maybe that was the wrong choice of words; I didn't regret this baby, I would never do that, but there was no going back from here.
In a way I feel mad. Sam failed to mention any of this. Why? I wanted to know. Is this why he was so awkward yesterday? Why he had me moved to a different room? All because he didn't want to deal with me or this baby anymore? That didn't seem like Sam. Not the Sam I knew. Well the Sam I knew was the Sam of seven years ago; people change, but for the better…right? If Sam Evans didn't want to be a part of my or our baby's life, then fine. So be it. I didn't need him.
Maybe that's why he worked so hard to save the baby; because he felt like he was in debt to me and owed me something. Well, we were even now. I don't expect to see him aging in the near future. He'll probably stay as far away from me as possible. And I'm fine with that. I really am. I don't need a guy; I had this perfect baby growing inside of me and that's all I need. Sam Evans is wanted, but not needed. I'm not going to die because he isn't here; I'm Quinn Fabray. I'm independent and I don't need anyone.
"So, are you just going to sit there and stare at the wall all day?" Santana asks impatiently, breaking the long silence with an aggravated sigh. I was actually surprised that she was able to hold off for that long; that wasn't like Santana.
"What do you want me to say?" I say, still not looking at them. Somehow I'm mad at them too; I don't know how or why, but I just am. I'll blame that on the pregnancy hormones later.
"Say something, anything," Brittany says; her tone annoyed and just as impatient as Santana's. I roll my eyes; I don't know what to say. What are you supposed to say in a situation like this? I had too many questions to ponder on, to talk to them now. Hold on, I had questions. Questions that they had the answers to. Why hadn't I thought about that before? Oh well, I'm going to use it now.
"How about you guys tell me everything you know about this," I say coldly, with my HBIC look. That always got me what I wanted, I didn't like using it after high school, but what the hell. They were familiar with this look.
"We don't know much Quinn," Santana sighs, I cross my arms, they were telling me. There's no way they were getting out of this.
"I want to know what you know," I say, pressing on, not taking anything back. I was not letting this go.
They both sigh, a giving up sigh, before exchanging a look, they sit up a little straighter and Brittany speaks, "Well, this is all off of what you told us Quinn," I nod and she continues, "You and Sam… met…again, in your boutique one day. He was there with his wife, Mallory, who's also our boss at the Times."
"So you guys knew about Sam and didn't tell me?" I say astonished that they would keep this from me…whenever it was.
Santana rolls her eyes and Brittany sighs, "we've been through this before. We didn't tell you because we knew you still loved Sam and would've been heartbroken to find out he was married," Santana explains, rather calmly, "which you were when you say him again." That sounds about right. I would've probably been heartbroken. I urge them to go on. "You and Sam did some catching up, talking about your lives and all that. And you, for lack of a better term, were jealous of Mallory." Wow, great job of preserving my pride, guys. I roll my eyes and stat eating my breakfast as they tell me the story; they're store-bought, pre-frozen, pancakes, but my hunger takes over.
"So, Mallory's our boss and apparently you came by our office one day and saw her and Nate, an intern at the Times, talking… about how she was pregnant with his baby," Brittany explains and I listen intently. So, I knew that his wife was cheating; did I tell him? Well, now I feel like a home wrecker. But I did the right thing…right? I drown my guilt in my pancakes which are drowned in maple syrup. Sugar always helps fight the guilt.
"And I told Sam?" I ask, because there's something inside of me that makes me think that I didn't tell him. I finish my pancakes and gulp down my orange juice, before pushing the revolving table to the side after I had finished.
"Not exactly," Santana says, "you kind of kept it to yourself for a while." Maybe that's why I had that odd feeling. I didn't think I'd do something like that. This story reminds me of that that had taken place in my sophomore year of high school when I was pregnant with Beth. I was Rachel, Sam was Finn, Mallory was me, and this Nate guy was Puck; that seems about right, although it doesn't feel right to compare Sam to Finn or me to Rachel Berry…eww.
"Then what happened?" I ask anxiously, really wanting to know what I did next. This was almost like a soup opera; so much drama.
"Well, San and I, along with Mallory, had to go to Milan to cover Fashion Week there," Brittany says, I can almost feel where this story's going next. The wife is gone, leaving the husband and the tramp alone in the city. Yep, I knew where this story was going.
"And so, we don't really know what happened next, but you told that you and Sam kind of hung out, you know as friends and stuff and then one day you two kissed," Santana says, somewhat patronizingly. That's Santana for you; just a little judgmental. So he was still married. When 'it' happened. I was a home wrecker; and a slut, and a tramp, and whore. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not better than that tattooed freak that had an affair with my dad back in high school.
"But nothing happened, at that time at least," Brittany says noticing my self-imploding expression. That didn't really help me feel better; that just meant it happened while Sam was still married, just not at that moment. "You said that he immediately put a top to it and said he couldn't do this because he was married and all that stuff," Brittany continues. Oh God, I better not have chased after him. That was so not me; I don't think that happened either. I decide not to ask questions that were sure to be answered soon and just listen to the rest of their story. I nod, influencing them to go on.
"Ok, then nothing really happened, you didn't chase after him or anything, so kudos to you," Santana says giving me two thumbs up, which causes me to chuckle, "then somehow, you guys got really close, you didn't tell us how, and um then…he showed up to your house one night and told you he loved you." Santana got this grossed out look to her face and so did Brittany, but at least she tries to cover it up. So he loved me. My heart was soaring right now. He had loved me; I feel contempt with this cruel world.
"So, I take it, this is when we had sex," I say and Brittany nods. Oh Lord, I was a home wrecker; all those all those other things too. I feel horrible right now.
"Oh did you ever," Santana says scornfully, "the way you described it; you two were like to rabbits, always going after each other." Santana scrunches up her nose in disgust and shakes her; I blush. That's what happens in love I guess.
"So, then Sam found out that Mallory was pregnant and he thought it was his, so he told you that he couldn't do this anymore because he couldn't leave his baby for you or something," Brittany says looking sympathetic, and Santana apologetic. Wow, that was a dick move if I do say so myself. That does not sound like the Sam Evans I knew. The Sam Evans I knew would never do something like that. He wouldn't just put it all behind him and pretend it never happened. But this Sam was different.
"So…so, he just… left?" I ask, to say I was surprised would be an understatement. And why did I have an odd feeling of discomfort in my heart? I try to brush that away; it didn't mean anything.
"Well, you told him the truth about Mallory, but Sam… um he…wouldn't believe you," Santana says somewhat hesitantly. Talk about an asshole; I'm fuming right now. How dare he? Who did he think he was? I guess loving me was a false statement if there ever was. He was just tired of his wife and wanted something new; and me being vulnerable and naïve let him take advantage of me. I guess I can't really blame him for it; what guy wouldn't take advantage of me in a situation like that. I just thought Sam was never like any of those other guys; I just thought he was different.
"And what about this baby?" I ask pointing to my stomach and trying not to show any signs of anger or sadness, he didn't deserve my time, "what did he say when I told him about it?"
Santana and Brittany look at each other nervously, "well, you didn't really tell him about it," Brittany says looking at me shamefully. Well, did that ever put things back on me. Now this was my fault; I was the one being wrong here. So I guess I'm to blame for all of this too…but it's his fault more than mine.
"What do you mean I didn't tell him?" I ask, really asking why I didn't tell him. There had to be a reason behind it, and right now I don't even know where my intentions were.
"You said that it wouldn't have made a difference," Santana says bleakly, "you said that he still would've picked Mallory over you." That makes sense; I guess my intentions were pretty normal. Maybe I felt like he didn't deserve to know about this baby; he didn't. But that takes away my right to be mad at him for not telling me that he was the father of my baby, maybe he never knew.
"So, he doesn't know that he's the father of the baby?" I ask expecting them to shake their head no but when they don't I'm very surprised.
"Oh, he knows," Santana says laughing half-heartedly, "why do you think he went through so much to save both you and the baby?" That's when I understand Sam's true motives behind all of this. I was right; he just wanted us to be even. Well, we were now. I hope he's happy because I'm sure not. He saved the baby so that he could get off the hook; so he wasn't the bad guy anymore, well that's not how I see it. He never even cared about me. And why would he? Who would want to deal with me? I know I wouldn't want to. You know that something's really messed up when you don't even want to deal with yourself.
"Well, then," I say trying to keep my emotions at bay, "I ought to remember all of this soon." Santana and Brittany are studying my face intently, searching for some sign of… any emotion, really. But they weren't going to find any; I went through my entire life trying to hide my feeling and emotions from everyone else; I knew a thing or two about how to put on a façade.
"Quinn…are you okay?" Brittany asks after a while of not finding anything in my blank face. I nod; I'm okay. Okay's a very vague term, and I doubt I'd really be lying if I said I was okay. I was okay.
Santana and Brittany look skeptical but they don't have time to further question me because the door all of a sudden opens and Sam Evans enters.
I hesitantly open the door to room 387; letting my eyes settle to the woman on the bed. Her face is unreadable, and it gets more so after she sees me…odd. Santana and Brittany are sitting beside her bed, looking slightly uneasy. I give a small smile to Quinn. She looks troubled by something; all my confidence in talking to her flies out the window in a hurry.
"Uh, hey guys," I say stepping inside the room; letting the door close behind me. Brittany smiles politely but Santana still has that perturbed look to her face. What had happened? Quinn is looking at me in a strange way; I can't read her face at all. I can usually tell what she's thinking or what she's feeling but now I can't even tell what emotion is on her face.
"Hey Sam," Brittany says, her voice unsure and her face worried, as she looks over at Quinn. Quinn is looking at me, I study her face carefully, trying to find out what she's thinking; she's looking like she doesn't know what to say. Like she wants to say something but doesn't know where to start; that's how well I know her, I can tell things like this…unless, none of that was true and she was just looking at me normally and I was totally wrong about all of this.
"I just came by to check on Quinn," I lie, after a period of awkward silence. I have no idea why I came in here. What had I expected to say to her once I did? I didn't know for sure. I just needed to see her, that's basically it. I didn't know what to say to her at all. Maybe it's best if I should just leave. "So…um… looks like she's fine," I say giving a small chuckle, which Santana mockingly nods, "I'll…just leave you guys to it then." I'm already opening the door before I finish my sentence; I'm about to leave when a voice bring me back.
"Uh…actually, Brittany and I were just leaving," Santana says, her voice oddly high "we have to go to work, and if you don't have anything to do, you can keep Quinn company." Quinn is giving her a confused glare and that makes my stomach turn uncomfortably.
"Um…yeah, sure," I say nervously. What else was I supposed to say? I guess I could lie and say I had to see a patient or something, but my heart couldn't give up this opportunity to talk to Quinn, even though it seems like she doesn't really want to talk to me.
"Great. Come on Brit, we have to get to work," Santana says pleasantly, which is highly fishy, looking at Brittany who is still seated.
"What? No we don't," Brittany says looking at Santana questioningly and Santana glares at her; never thought I'd see Santana glare at Brittany.
"Yes, we do," Santana says to Brittany sternly, which causes Brittany to immediately stand up; Santana looks over at Quinn and puts her smile back on, "we'll see you later, Quinn." She takes Brittany's hand and they both walk over to the door, where I'm standing. "Later, Sam," Santana says looking at me with slight…guilt? Brittany's doing to same; that's weird. They walk out the door, shutting it on their way out.
I watch them go. That was odd. Why were they acting like that? I swear they looked at me guiltily; what was going on? Oh God, what if Quinn knew about…well everything. I am going to be in so much trouble; it's not even funny. Maybe she got her memory back, that would be better than if Santana and Brittany had just told her; it sounds a lot worse than it actually was, if Quinn had her memory back, I would somewhat be spared…right? I take a deep breathe, I should stop jumping to conclusions and just know for sure. I hesitantly turn around and smile at Quinn; she is looking at me with an intensity and emotion that I can't name. It's almost like sadness; that's not good.
"So, how're you doing?" I say walking over to Quinn and sitting in the seat that was previously occupied by Brittany.
"I'm fine," Quinn says expressionlessly, not meeting my eyes. I shift in my seat uncomfortably; I was really starting to get worried. She isn't usually like this.
"Okay…cool," I say giving a small half-hearted chuckle. We sit there in silence for a few moments before I can't take it anymore; the awkward silence is getting to me. I take a deep breath and replace the silence with my voice.
"So, it seems that your healing pretty well," I say trying to strike a conversation with Quinn but she just gives a short nod without looking at me. I hold back the urge to sigh; this was going to be harder than I thought. "You might even get released soon, I bet you hate it here," I say, getting another nod in reply. Why is she being like this? As far as I know I haven't done anything. What the hell am I saying, I'm the reason she's in this God damned hospital. It's probably the pregnancy hormones or something.
"Look Quinn, I don't know what I did, but whatever it is, I'm sorry," I say getting right to the point, hoping she'll get the message that I know that something's up. Hopefully it's nothing, but the way she's acting, it doesn't seem like nothing.
"Oh you know well what you did Sam Evans," Quinn says crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking forward.
"No, I don't," I say slightly annoyed. Was she always this difficult? What did she mean I knew what she was talking about? She couldn't possibly know about the baby. I doubt she had her memory back; if she did, she wouldn't be like this; she'd be a little more understanding, and not so difficult.
Quinn rolls her eyes and sighs, turning her head to look at me, "I know Sam, okay. I know and you can't blame me if I'm mad about it," she says calmly, I almost fall over when she says so. She knows? Like, she knows about the baby? About everything? Oh Lord, this was not good. Not good at all. I feel myself breathing deeper and feeling slightly dizzy. My head was going through a million different thoughts; I was in the dog house now.
"Know what?" I ask, trying to play the idiot. I was going to make her tell me what she knows, not just assume that she knows what I think she knows.
Quinn rolls her eyes again, "Everything Sam," she says in an aggravated tone, "about the baby, about what happened between us, everything." Yep, suspicion confirmed. Did I really think it was going to be anything else? Santana and Brittany probably told her everything. I always knew that they were going to ruin this. I was so screwed. I try to find the right words to say; but nothing will come. What are you supposed to say in a situation like this? I sigh; there was no point in thinking about this, the damage is already done.
"Listen, Quinn; before you jump to conclusions, I think you should know the whole story," I say straight from the heart; not trying to say the right thing, but saying the thing I want to say.
"The whole story? I know the whole story, Sam. I know, and I'm not mad, I'm not upset," she says looking at me, I give her a confused look, "we're even, you saved the baby so you no longer owe me anything anymore, I get it." What is she saying? What does she mean we're even?
"What do you mean, 'we're even'?" I ask, completely confused. I really had no idea what she was talking about.
"Look Sam, I really don't want to talk to you right know," Quinn says, not looking at me, "can you please just leave." If she thought I was going to do that, she was crazy.
"No," I say plainly, "I'm not leaving until you tell me what you're talking about." Quinn rolls her eyes and gives an exasperated sigh.
"You don't have to feel bad about leaving me Sam, you saved my baby and I thank you for that, you're no longer in debt to me, we're even," Quinn explains and somehow I understand that time. Is that really what she thought? I couldn't believe this; who had gave her that idea? Santana and Brittany? Why would she think like that? There is no doubt that I would've saved the baby under any circumstances, even if it wasn't mine. I didn't do this because I felt like I was in debt to her; I never meant for any of this to happen. When will she get it?
"Quinn, you don't understand," I say trying to take her hands in mine but she snatches them away, "Quinn, please just hear me out. It's not what you think."
"Then what is it Sam?" she says looking at me and that's when I see the tears that have formed in her eyes. I want to kick myself for making her cry. I need to fix this.
"Quinn, I didn't save the baby because I felt in debt to you; there is nothing I could do Quinn that could fix what I did to you, but Quinn what happened between us can't be understood by a retelling," I say, my eyes boring into hers, "I'm assuming Santana and Brittany told you what happened, because you don't seem to be understanding what we had and still have. Quinn once you have your memory back you'll then understand."
Quinn looks at me for a while before turning her body to face mine in the bed, "if no one but us can understand what happened between us, why don't you tell me what happened," she says challengingly.
"You won't understand unless you have your memory back Quinn, trust me," I say, and then immediately realize that those weren't the right words to use. Why would she want to trust me? After everything I've done?
"I always thought you were different from the other guys," she says shaking her head, "I thought you actually wanted me. But I was just stupid"
"Quinn, please, no you're not, I do want you," I say pleadingly, "I love you." Quinn scoffs and I know she doesn't believe a word I say.
Quinn sighs, "can you just go Sam, please?" she says leaning back onto the pillows of the reclined bed and closing her eyes. I don't know what good will come from me staying here any longer, so reluctantly, I oblige. I stand up and walk over to the door, turning around one last time to see her in the same position I last saw and walk out the door. Hoping for a miracle.
After Sam left I just sat there for a while, thinking of what he had said. "You won't understand until you have your memory back." What did that mean? Was he just trying to save himself or was he actually speaking the truth. Was he right about me misunderstanding? This was confusing. I didn't know what to feel right now; all I knew is that I didn't feel so great.
Was I too hard on him? Didn't he deserve it? Wasn't he the reason that I was still alive? Shouldn't I be at least a little more thankful? Well makes me feel like a bitch. I was never good at making myself feel better. The way he had looked when I told him to leave was evidence enough that he had felt bad; he had looked so hurt, so…broken. It pained me to see him like that. It really did; maybe I had blown the one chance I had to be with Sam Evans. But then again, did I deserve that chance? More so, did he deserve the chance?
No. He didn't. He didn't deserve to have me. He played me for his own benefit; he never wanted me, he just wanted a change from his wife for a while. I doubt I'll feel any differently about this even after I have my memory back. How much differently could I have felt back then, to not feel the way that I feel now? I feel so…used. Unwanted, unloved, and unneeded. Hadn't I always been that? If so, why did I feel so much worse now than I did before? What had changed? Sam Evans had come into the picture, that's what had changed.
I felt like everything I did, was dictated by him, on no fault of his own. I remember Puck proposing to me during college, when he did it, I wasn't thinking about him but I was thinking about the one man that I hadn't seen in years, Sam Evans. That's what made me say no; I could've had a nice, rounded relationship if it hadn't been for him. Sometimes I feel like my mind is playing tricks on me; I kept holding onto this hope all throughout senior year of high school, and all through college that he'd come back to me, come back to me and sweep me off my feet on his white horse, like some pathetic fairytale. Well, there's something that I should've learned a decade ago, fairytales are not reality. And neither is the perfect relationship I thought I would have with Sam.
I don't know how long I sat there thinking, but somewhere in that long thought process I had started crying silently. A light knock on my door made my insides jump with anxiety. I quickly wipe away my tears and take a deep breathe before saying, "Come in." The door opens slowly and at first I think that it's Sam, I'm ready to tell him to fuck off and leave when a tall, dark haired man with a white lab coat, who I knew as Dr. Braden Michaels, came through the threshold. I hold back a sigh of relief, as I see Braden; I just didn't want to deal with Sam right now. Yeah, that was it, I didn't feel anything for Braden or anything; I didn't even know the guy! God, Quinn, what the hell is wrong with you?
"Hello Quinn," Braden says walking towards my bed after the door automatically shut behind him, making me feel slightly nervous. "I just came back to give you some new medication because the old ones seem to not have been working so well and are gone." I look to my IV supplement and sure enough the bag is empty.
"Yeah, okay," I say and Braden gives me a small smile before walking beside my bed to the IV stand and attaching a new bag to the IV after throwing the old one in the garbage can. This bag looks different from the others, I note, the liquid was also a different color; almost bluish instead or clear. I look from the bag to Braden with a confused look on my face.
"This is Neotropin; it ought to help bring your memory back," Braden says adjusting the bag so that the liquid can flow to my wrist. I don't think much of it when he tells me about the Neotropin. I did really want to get my memory back. My brain feels oddly relaxed as the medicine gushes into my body. It feels really good; my throbbing head has finally calmed down. I close my eyes and lean back against the reclined pillows of the bed, sighing in contentment.
"Good huh?" Braden asks, with a smile in his voice. I nod without opening my eyes.
"It's great," I say finally opening them to see Braden standing on the right side of my bed with a smile and a somewhat unreadable look on his face.
"I thought it would make you feel better," he says pulling a chair over to him and sitting down beside my bed. "So, Quinn, I see you're doing better with time," he says making himself comfortable in the chair, "your ribs should heal in no time and you'll be out of here before you know it." I smile at that; I don't know why, I just did.
"That's fantastic," I say laughing nervously, trying to sound like I hadn't been crying a few minutes ago, "the hospital food isn't really serving me well." Braden laughs at my statement.
"I thought about that so I had some real food brought to you," he says texting someone really quickly on his phone, "have you ever had food from The Courier? It's the best place to go to for lunch; I eat from there all the time." I shake my head no. I know what The Courier is. It's one of the most famous lunch restaurants in Los Angeles; and with fame comes expense, maybe that's why I'd never been there before. There were two types of regular people in Los Angeles, the rich and the not so rich. I fell in the not so rich category; Sam and assumedly Braden fell into the rich one.
Just then a nurse walks through the door, rolling a food cart with two trays of food on them. Presumably one for me, and one for Braden. I look at the food on the tray; they're wrapped up with tinfoil and plastic wrap, but that doesn't contain their smell and that's when I realize how hungry I had been. I really haven't taste real food in a long time; the aroma coming from the cart smelled so good that I could feel my mouth start to water. The nurse puts the cart beside my bed and looks at Braden who nods, she then walks away without another word; it was almost as if she was compelled or something, she looked like she wanted to say something, but she said nothing.
"Here we are," Braden says standing up after the nurse left and walking over to the cart. He lifted a tray and set in on the revolving table beside my bed, before sliding it in front of me. I looked at the tray in front of me and then to Braden. Why was he being so… nice? I had never had any guy be this nice to me if he didn't want something in return. I looked from the tray of food to Braden who was smiling down at me. Just then a felt a familiar aching in my chest; he did want something… Maybe Brittany and Santana were right about him 'liking' me, but that wasn't the question here, the question was how I felt about him.
"Uh…I… thank you Braden," I say looking at the food and then to him. He's looking at me as if he wants me to say more but I really don't know what else to say.
Braden seemed like a decent guy. Don't get me wrong, he sounded like a total asshole at first, but the more I spent time with him, the more of a good guy he presented himself to be. He was handsome, not like Sam handsome, but he still was desirable; good form, pretty eyes, nice smile, but they couldn't compete against Sam's…there I go again! Comparing every guy I've ever thought to be worth something to Sam. It's like he had this hold over me that I couldn't get rid of. Ugh! It was like he was haunting me; his voice, his smell, his face… everything.
"Well, um…I hope you enjoy your meal Quinn," Braden says breaking the somewhat long silence between us, "I'll just leave you to it then." He walks over to the cart and starts wheeling it towards the door. I watch him do so; why can't I open myself up to any guy that likes me? I mean why would this guy even want me? I was pregnant with some other man's baby; a man that he didn't seem to like very much to top it all off. Why?
More importantly, what was I so afraid of? If he wanted me, shouldn't I at least be a little flattered? Why is it that I keep thinking about Sam and what he would say if he were here? Sam would want me to be happy…right? What was the harm of spending some time with a nice guy? There was no harm. Then why couldn't I make myself to do anything about it? Sam Evans didn't want me; so why did I still feel like I owed him? I didn't. And I wasn't going to hold off for him anymore.
"Wait, Braden!" I call just as Braden is about to walk out of the door. Braden turns around and looks at me confusedly, I just smile, it was nice to feel wanted. "Would you want to eat lunch with me? I could really use the company," I say with a coy smile on my face, Braden doesn't do anything at first, probably in shock or something, but then his face breaks out into a smile and he nods.
"I'd like that," he says rolling the cart back over inside the room and picking up his tray, placing it on a table to the left of my bed and sitting in the chair that was previously occupied by…Sam. I swallow hard and put a smile on my face. Sam Evans was no longer going to hold me back. I vowed to forget about him, to not think about him anymore; sure it was going to be hard, but I had done hard things before and if anyone could get over heartbreak, it's me. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger…doesn't it? The problem was that his baby was currently growing inside of me; every time I'll see my baby, I'll see Sam.
"Alright," I say unwrapping the sandwich from the tinfoil and setting it on the plate, staring at the size of it. To say it was huge would be an understatement. It was enormous; packed with everything you should ever put in a sandwich: bacon, ham, turkey, chicken, steak, probably every type of meat known to man, even some fish, with olives, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, peppers, apples (yes, apples), and don't even get me started on the cheeses, there was Swiss, cheddar, mozzarella, American, blue smoke, and many other cheeses that I had no idea what they were called, and it was drenched in dressing; all of this was layered on to colossal pieces of sub bread. Just looking at it made me full; I continue to stare at it…it was just so big. Probably fat loaded too, but who cares, I was going be huge in a few months anyways, so what was the hard in getting an early start?
I hear Braden laugh at my reaction to the size of the sandwich, "big huh?" he asks laughing, unwrapping his on mammoth sized sandwich.
"Uh…yeah," I say looking over at him, my eyes still wide, "how is anyone supposed to eat this?"
"Oh lots of people have ate this," he says smiling, "now tell me how long have you lived in Los Angeles?"
I was sort of taken aback by his question but nevertheless answered, "I went to college here, so for about 6, 7 years," Braden's shocked expression makes me smile, "what?"
"You've lived here 7 years and you haven't had a Courier megawich?" he asks clearly stunned. I just shake my head no and he gives a small chuckle. "Wow, well we're about to change that, because you Quinn Fabray are about to have your first Courier megawich," he says it like it's a life altering experience.
"You say that like it's so important," I say laughing and looking down at my 'megawich.'
"Oh, it is," he says, "you're are not considered a Los Angelesian until you've tried a megawich," he says like I didn't get the most obvious thing in the world.
"Okay," I say challengingly, "if I can take a bite of it, we'll see how great this 'megawich' really is." I pick up the sandwich using every inch of my hands and bring it to my lips; I look over at Braden who is watching me intently for my reaction and open my mouth as wide as it'll open, taking a bit of the ginormous sandwich.
It's not bad, pretty good actually…okay, it was really good; but in the process of trying my first megawich, I had gotten mustard, ketchup, ranch, mayonnaise, and some other types of dressings all over my face. Coating my mouth, my chin, and my nose. Braden burst out laughing as I chewed and swallowed my bite.
"Not bad for a first timer," he says still laughing, I glare at him playfully.
"Shut up," I say reaching for my napkin and trying to wipe off my face, but I don't really think its working.
"You're making it worse," Braden says laughingly, picking up his own napkin and helping me wipe of my face. After a while, I just stop trying and let him wipe off all of it, since I'm obviously not really helping. I can't help but think how easy it is to talk to him; how easy it is to laugh with him, I don't have to worry about letting my guard down or anything. It felt…good.
"There," Braden says after finishing cleaning my face, he looks at me and then realizes that I was staring at him while he was doing so; but he doesn't make anything of it, which I thank God for because if he mentioned it, I would've died from embarrassment. He just puts his napkin down and picks up his megawich with both his hands, but a hell of a lot more orthodoxed than my try, and takes a bite; managing to not get anything on his face.
I watch in amazement as he chews and swallows his bite, "and that," Braden says finishing swallowing, "is how you properly eat a megawich." I smile at him; he was making me forget. Making me forget how screwed up my life was, making me forget that I was currently in a hospital, making me forget that I had memory loss, making me forget Sam…
"Wow, it's almost 3 o'clock," I say the giggle from the last thing Braden had said still on my lips. He had come by around noon and it had almost been 3 hours since. Our lunch was long gone; in the garbage can hours ago. I couldn't believe how long it had been; it felt like it was no time at all. All throughout those few hours, I hadn't once thought about Sam; all I thought about was what Braden was saying or doing at that particular time.
I had learned a lot about Braden over the past few hours; Braden Eduardo Michaels was son of very successful business man, John Michaels, He had been born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina, characterized himself as a city boy, with a southern spirit. His favorite movie was The Godfather, the original not the remake. He had said that "the sequel is never as good as the original." He was a huge Harry Potter, and Prince fan. He loved to play tennis and was very good golfer. He loved Adele, and was afraid to sing in front of people because he was "terrible." He was an only child so after his parents died last summer, he inherited the entire family estate and fortune. He had never been in love, stating that he hadn't "met the right one yet." He was a huge baseball fan, but never played it. He went to Duke University and moved to Los Angeles right after he graduated and got a job here a few months later. He lived by Venice beach in a beach house because he loved the beach. And he had a chocolate lab named Coco.
I felt like I had known him my entire life; he was so open and honest about his life that it made me too. I told him about everything, my parents, Lucy Caboosy, Beth, Glee Club, USC, designing, Santana and Brittany, even Sam; although I left out the part about what I knew had happened between us recently. Not once had he been judgmental, he just smiled his way through everything I had said.
Braden looks at his watch and nods, "yeah, time flies, huh?" he says standing up, "I probably should get going now; I stayed way past my lunch break."
I laugh, "well, I hope I didn't get you into any trouble," I say pretending to feel bad.
Braden laughs too, "I'll survive," he says smiling at me, "It was really fun talking to you Quinn." I nod and realize how true his words had been, it was fun.
"Yeah, it was," I say returning the smile.
Braden picks up my hand and kisses it, taking me by surprise, "I'll see you later Quinn," he says after dropping my hand, "have a good rest of the day."
I don't know what to say, "Um…yeah, you too," I say. Braden smiles and pushed the cart out of the room, exiting with it.
I sit there for a while after he left; staring at the hand he had just kissed. I smile to myself. Today hadn't been such a bad day after all. Maybe, just maybe, I was starting to 'like' Braden Michaels.
Over the next several hours, I indulge myself in work; I work on other doctor's patients, I see patients without appointments, something I never do, and I even help the med students research methods to stop reduce the happening of frequent heart disease; and I hate research. I don't even eat lunch or dinner; don't even think about it. I can't eat anything right now, I feel sick to my stomach and I doubt food will help that.
I try, the hardest I've ever tried, to not think about Quinn. Isn't that the reason I've been working like a maniac. I know if I think about her, I will end up having a nervous break down and that I something else I can't deal with right now. I was mad at everything and everyone, except Quinn. I was mad at myself for being such an asshole, I was mad at Finn for kissing Quinn during high school, I was mad at Mallory for lying to me about her pregnancy, I was mad at Nate for ruining my marriage, I was mad at the driver who had hit Quinn to have made her lose her memory, I was mad at Braden for wanting Quinn, I was mad at Santana and Brittany for telling Quinn about what happened between us, I was mad at God for putting me through this. So basically I was mad at everything and everyone.
"Dr. Evans. Dr. Evans!" Sally tries to get my attention as I'm madly mixing different medications in order to be making…well, I forgot what I was trying to make.
"Huh? What?" I say almost rudely, which takes Sally and me by surprise, I'm never rude.
Sally takes a deep breath, "Dr. Evans, it's almost 9 o'clock," she states, "I think you should go home now; it would be good for you to get some rest." She says this almost sternly. I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. She was right; I needed to get out of here. Staying here won't do me any good; if I wanted to get my mind off of Quinn, I had to go home and get some rest.
I take a deep breath, "you're right," I tell Sally, sighing, "I should go." Sally nods and walks behind me to my office, making sure that I am actually leaving. I hang my lab coat on my door and walk out of my office, heading for the elevators. I make it down to my car but I don't start my engine. I just sit in my car for a while. Where am I supposed to go? Home? I don't have a home anymore. That apartment is not a home. I can't go there. Going there will only make me realize how screwed up my life really is.
Instead I fish my phone out of my pocket and speed dial the only friend that I can turn to, Ryan. I wait for him to answer and surely enough after a few rings he answers. "Yo, man, what's up?" he asks, I can hear commotion in the background, he's probably at a bar or strip club or something, a typical place for Ryan to be.
"Ryan, I need to take my mind off of something," I say honestly.
"Oh, Sammy boy, you came to the right guy," Ryan says laughing, "I'm at The Strip, you should come join me and we can totally help you forget." The Strip is a local Los Angeles bar and one of Ryan's many often visited bars. I hear a couple of girl giggling in the background and glasses clinking together; typical bar sounds.
"Alright man," I say, without even really thinking about it, starting my engine, "I'm on my way." With that I hang up the phone and start driving to The Strip as fast as I can, getting drunk will help me get my mind off of things. I don't like to use that method, but it's really all I got right now. It'll help me get off of Quinn and that's really all I want right now.
I get to the bar in no time and am out of my car as soon as I park in the parking lot; all while knowing that I'm probably going to have to have to take a cab home tonight. I walk to the door of the bar and open it, walking inside; smelling alcohol, perfume, and…sex. I sigh before stepping inside; it didn't take me long before spotting Ryan sitting by the bar, a couple of girls all over him. Against my better judgment, I enter the loud, crowded pub and walk over to Ryan. Loud music hits my ears and I maneuver my way between the people dancing towards my friend.
"Sammy boy! You made it," he says sitting up and shooing the girls away, "sit, sit." He gestures towards a bar stool beside him and I sit down putting my hands on the table. "Hey can we get the man a drink here?" Ryan calls the bartender, a young woman with short red hair, comes over.
"What can I get you sir?" she asks me flirtatiously, I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
"The strongest shot you have," I say watching the bartender smile and Ryan look surprised.
"Make that two shots babe," Ryan says to the bartender before punching me playfully on the arm, "adventurous are we today Sam?"
"I just want to get my mind off of everything," I say in a bored tone. The bartender leaves to go get our drinks and Ryan turns to me.
"What's going on in that blonde head of yours Sam?" he asks curiously, "it's not like you to be trying to get wasted, even if it is a Friday night."
I just shake my head, "it's along story man," I say not wanting to bore him with my life story.
"I got time," Ryan says as the bartender puts two shots in front of us, "keep em' coming babe." He says to the bartender who nods.
I sigh and pick up my shot glass, "you know that girl Quinn, you met her at the pier that day," I say drowning my shot into my mouth, Ryan doing the same. I swallowed the liquid and it burns in my throat but I could care less.
"The really hot blonde, who ditched me after you two, went to talk privately?" Ryan asks and I nod, "what about her?"
"Well, she and I dated in high school and she was my first," I say as the bartender puts down a few more shots on the table in front of Ryan and me, "She was my first love and I hadn't really every gotten over her, and while Mallory was away, I realized that I was still in love with her." We drowned another shot.
"Whoa dude," Ryan says after swallowing his shot, "love's never a good thing. Go on." I laugh humorlessly.
"We were having an affair and I was ready to leave Mallory for her, I really was, but then Mallory showed up and claimed to be pregnant with my baby," I say bringing the shot glass to my lips and knocking it back, Ryan following my suit.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that man," he says and I shake my head.
"It's not your fault," I say and Ryan urges me to go on, "I just couldn't leave my baby for Quinn, you know, I just couldn't do it so I ended it. I didn't want to end it; I really loved her but I just couldn't abandon my baby. She was devastated and hated me."
"Wow, dude, that even makes you sound like an asshole," he says knocking another shot back.
"But she was pregnant at the time too, and she really with my baby, but she didn't even tell me." I say and Ryan's eyes go as wide a saucers and he almost chokes on his shot.
"Whoa, man," he says stunned, "what happened then?" I find it quite amusing how he's so interested on what happened next.
I knock back another shot before answering, "Well, she didn't tell me about the baby cause she probably felt like I didn't have the right to know, which I didn't," I say and Ryan nods in agreement, "then everything with Mallory went down and you know what happened there." I drown another shot, Ryan nods putting his finished shot glass on the table after knocking it back.
"Well, I didn't really talk to Quinn for a few weeks, I was just overwhelmed with everything that happened, but throughout it all I still loved Quinn and I really missed her, so I went to her apartment one day, but she wasn't there so left her a note saying I wanted to talk to her," I say nonchalantly, "and that night; she ended up on my surgery table after a bad car accident."
"Whoa man, this is like one of those soup operas," Ryan says blinking a few times, "all you need is someone having amnesia and you could be on a one way train to soup-ville." If I hadn't been in the mood I was in, I'd laugh, but instead I just glared at him and Ryan's eyes got super wide again. "Omigod, she has amnesia?" he asks shocked.
"Yeah, but we'll get to that later" I say knocking back another shot, "I did the surgery on her and as a miracle the baby, my baby, survived."
"Dude, you're a hero," Ryan says obviously really intrigued by this whole situation.
"Yeah, well, it was then I found out the baby was mine and the next morning I found out she had no memory of what happened between us whatsoever," I say indifferently, "but then her friends told her what happened and know she hates me because she doesn't fully understand cause she still doesn't have her memory back."
Ryan's eyes are wide and stunned, "wow man, I never knew your life was that screwed up," he says and I laugh grimly.
"I really love her man," I say knocking back another shot. How many was that so far? I've lost count.
"Well dude, there is only one way thing that can help you forget about Quinn," Ryan says after knocking back his shot, "you won't get over her because you can still picture her naked, the only way you can get over a girl is if you can no longer picture her naked. You need to replace the images in your brain with her boobs with new images of other women's boobs; and soon enough you'll forget about her because our brain's can only hold a certain number of boob images."
I just look at him, "that's disturbing," I say what's on my mind; I feel like I've heard his little monologue somewhere else before, "you know you totally sound like Barney off of How I Met Your Mother?" Yep, there's where I had heard that before.
"His is my idol, but not the guy who plays him, he's gay. Charlie Sheen's also my idol and the guy he used to play on Two and A Half Men." Ryan says and I hold back my urge to laugh, Ryan should be Barney and Charlie's idol. "Look at those two smoking brunettes over there," Ryan says pointing to two girls sitting on the other side of the bar, "look's like we're about to have you forget about Quinn." I roll my eyes; I was not sleeping with random girls to get over Quinn.
"Dude, I'm not doing that," I say firmly, watching Ryan roll his eyes, "she's the mother of my child, shouldn't I at least try to be with her." Ryan just shakes his head.
"Look man, you can still be part of the kid's life, but you can't be pining after her forever. This is the only way dude and I'm going to help you get over this girl," Ryan says to me, "now which one do you got?"
"Ryan, I don't think this is such a good idea," I say uneasily, looking over at the two girls.
"Oh, come on man, its full proof," Ryan says assertively, "now which one you got?" he asks again pointing to the two girls. I assessed them both carefully, they were in their mid-twenties, the one to the left was quintessentially gorgeous; she had light golden brown hair and pretty, soft brown eyes, her lips were a light shade of pink, she looked somewhat uncomfortable to be here. She was wearing a short dark blue dress that fit her curves perfectly, with her hair let down in soft curls. I didn't know why, but somehow, the girl intrigued me; I wanted to know more about her.
"The one to the left," I say to Ryan, if I have to pick one, I might as well pick the prettier one.
"Oooo, Sammy, good choice," Ryan says checking out the two girls, "knew you would pick the pretty one, oh, well, I'll take the other." I roll my eyes again; I hate the way he talks about girls, like they aren't even human beings. Ryan calls over the bartender, "hey babe, give those girls over there two margaritas on us." The bartender nods and walks away. I looked over at the two girls; yeah, they were hot but not like Quinn, they didn't have her beauty, no one did. Comparing them to Quinn wasn't right; wasn't I trying to forget her?
We continue to watch the two girls as the bartender walks up to them and sets two margaritas in front of them, before pointing to us, probably telling them they were from us. The two girls smiled and waved at us, Ryan smirked and drowned the last shot on the table.
"Come on, they're basically calling us over there," he says starting to walk toward the girls, I sigh and knock back my last shot and follow him. My head is spinning right now, I knew I was drunk; those shots had been pretty strong. I was fully intoxicated; I just hoped I didn't do anything too stupid.
"Hey ladies," Ryan says as we walk up to the two girls, "the name's Ryan and this here is my friend Sam." The dark haired girl giggles and takes Ryan's hand to shake.
"Nice to meet you guys," she says flirtatiously, "my name's Natasha, and this is my friend Ashley." Ashley smiles softly at me and I smile back, she really is beautiful.
"So, you guys come here often?" Ryan asks trying to make small talk.
"Well, I do," Natasha says, before looking at Ashley, "but Ash here doesn't really come to these type of things." I nod, well, neither did I.
"Well, Sam here doesn't either," Ryan says turning around and smiling at me, "so what do you say Natasha, let's leave these newbies alone, shall we?" Ryan asks taking initiative right away, Natasha smiles and takes Ryan's out stretched hand.
"I'd love to," she says seductively, following Ryan towards the dance floor, leaving me and Ashley alone. Ashley smiles and my shyly and I sit down on the stool beside her.
"So, um… I'm Sam," I say nervously. Well, duh idiot, you're Sam. She knows that already.
"And, I'm Ashley," she says giggling softly; I smile, she was trying to make this easy on me.
"You don't come here often?" I ask, like Ryan, trying to make small talk.
"Coming to bars aren't really my thing," she says looking around the place, "Natasha dragged me out here tonight saying I needed to have some fun; she claims I work too much."
"Really? What do you do?" I ask curiously; this girl really did intrigue me, there was just something in those pretty eyes of hers.
"I'm the head chef at Valentino," Ashley says proudly. I look at her in surprise; Valentino… me and Quinn had gone to dinner there… Snap out of it Sam! you're supposed to be trying to forget about her.
"No way," I say to Ashley, "I love Valentino, it's one of my favorite restaurants. You make the best food."
Ashley laughs, "thank you Sam," she says sweetly, looking over towards the dance floor where Ryan and Natasha were grinding up against one another, before back to me, "so what about you?"
"I'm a doctor at the UCLA Medical Center," I say just as proudly as she had said hers; if there's anything I'm proud of in my life, it's my job.
"Wow, a doctor," Ashley says surprised, "that's really sexy." She says this so nonchalantly that it causes me to laugh.
"I'd like to think so," I say still laughing, "the whole chef thing is pretty hot too." I feel wrong flirting with Ashley, I was having a baby with another woman, maybe this wasn't the best idea in the world. But the alcohol that clouded my mind didn't receive that thought. Anyways, what was the harm with flirting with a pretty girl?
Ashley smiles and starts watching as Ryan and Natasha make out in the middle of the dance floor. I clear my through unconsciously, time to take initiative Sam. "So, um… you want to dance?" I ask standing up and offering Ashley my hand. Ashley looks at my hand and flutters her eyes up to me softly, before smiling and nodding.
"Sure," she says taking my hand, I smile and lead her to the dance floor away from Ryan and Natasha because I really didn't want to deal with them right now. We turn around to face one another; Ashley puts her hand on my shoulder and I put one hand on the small of her back. We sway to the slow song together, slowly and peacefully. I didn't know how or when it happened, but all of a sudden our faces were really close together and we were leaning down ever so closely. It was probably due to the amount of alcohol that I had in my system or that I was just lonely and was missing Quinn especially now, but I think I was the one who had kissed Ashley first.
Heat and hunger grew in the kiss and before I knew what I was doing, I was asking Ashley, "let's get out of here." She just nods and takes my hand, leading me out of the door and into a taxi cab, since we both seem to have been intoxicated. We end up making out outside of my loft and before I can process what I'm about to do, and the consequences of my decision; we stumble into my bedroom and fall back on my bed.
Never once do I think about how much I'm going to regret this in the morning, or how wrong this is; I just let what is about to happen, happen, not thinking about Quinn once.
Don't worry, Fabrevans will be endgame. So, you guys hate Braden, how about Ashley. I happen to really like Ashley; she brings more drama, which I love. There has to be mistakes on the way to every good love story right?
So tell me what you guys thought. Love it? Hate it? Tell me what you think.