brittany, albeit still jetlagged, was feeling absolutely giddy with excitement. she’d arrived in lima at just six o’clock that morning, crawled into her old childhood bed for a hearty four hours, and then gotten up for the day. she couldn’t sleep knowing that, after years of being apart, she was again inhabiting the same space as santana. she had to see her old best friend — thoughts of her had permeated her mind for hours. thinking about how excited the other women would be made her stomach flip and twist into knots. her naivety forbid her from even considering that santana wouldn’t feel the same excitement. she had dropped by her parents house just to find out that she was living and taking care of her abuela — the news had made brittany’s heart swell. that was the santana she knew; so thoughtful and caring, so sweet. after another short drive and thirty minutes of pruning herself in her drivers side door, brittany was there — beaming on her best friends doorstep. she gave the doorbell a ring and felt her heart soar, she was basically bouncing. every second of waiting felt like years, and then the door open: an unmistakable sight of dark hair was before her, and brittany almost tackled her with a fierce hug. “oh my god, oh my god,” she squealed, “santana, oh my god, i can’t believe i’m touching you right now! you still smell so nice! oh my god.”
❝ un momento, por favor! ❞ she had been elbow deep in their brunch--omelets, with the last of the vegetables, already brown at the edges--when the bell sounded. almost immediately, alma was cued to call for her, loudly, above the surround sound of her telenovela, and wiping her hands impatiently at the apron about her waist, santana reluctantly set her knife down upon the counter to step into the living room. as always, they weren’t expecting visitors. and as always, she supposed, she would pull open the door to find yet another friendly churchgoer who, dios mio santana, was NOT a gentlemanly suitor, but instead a concerned member of the parish. alma was a regular celebrity; it made sense, after all, that her friends should visit to pray her post-op pain away with get well bottles of tequila tucked into the backs of their muffin baskets.
the tv, as always, was deafening, so on her way to the door, there was a brief, but rather heated struggle for the remote as santana snatched it from the coffee table--alma bitching all the while. when, finally, she pried it from her grasp to lower the volume, she dropped it into the front pocket of her apron, shooting a murderous look in her grandmother’s direction to quiet her. then, plastering a sickly sort of smile onto her face, she checked her hair in the foyer’s mirror, tucked the strays back up and into her bun, and unbolted the latch.
she had long ago grown used to the slow moving men of alma’s affections, so for a moment, she was too shocked to react. caught in the embrace, arms pinned to her sides, she stiffened immediately, warring with a mixture of emotions: surprise, anger, relief. thankfully, she had NOT been assaulted by señor alvarez. for all his leering, a double knee replacement could not have allowed this range of motion. but the realization settled slowly. and when it had, she was flooded, again, with feeling--this time strong enough to catch in her throat.
she disentangled herself only to grip brittany more fiercely, nails digging into the fabric of her shirt as they rocked precariously upon the front steps. she was crying, quietly, the tears dripping down her cheeks slow as molasses. and silent save for her sniffling, but unabashed in her reciprocation, it was only alma’s voice, barely audible above the pounding of her heart, probing, questioning, demanding explanation, that shook her from her trance. she hardened again. now it hurt to breathe, to think, and she pulled herself apart carefully, crossing her arms over her chest to keep the beginnings of a sob deep, deep down where it belonged. she wiped maddeningly at the corners of her eyes, cleared the thickness from her throat, settled for a look she hoped was steely. ❝ what are you even doing here, britt? ❞
