unwritten25
March 15, 2012, 8:04 a.m.
Whether Near to Me or Far: whether near to me or far
M - Words: 2,901 - Last Updated: Mar 15, 2012 Story: Complete - Chapters: 8/8 - Created: Mar 15, 2012 - Updated: Mar 15, 2012 309 1 1 0 0
[many scratched out beginnings]
This is a novel about--
When I was thirteen--
Goddamnit--
I can’t--
[many more scratch-outs, scribbles, a very bad drawing of a cat]
This is how it begins: a warm summer day, 1937. I was thirteen years old.
America
Summer 1937
“Rachel? Rachel!” Hurrying footsteps. “Where is that damn girl?!”
Rachel, hidden in a side staircase, giggled quietly. Unfortunately, the sound carried in the now quiet hall.
“Rachel Hummel!” the head maid, Elaine Anderson, stuck her head inside the staircase, glaring at her.
Elaine was older than Rachel by a good fifty years, but she didn’t look it. Her hair was still a dark brown, and her eyes were still clear and alert. Right now, though, she looked angry - her hair a wild tangle, color high in her cheeks. Rachel admitted reluctantly that she might have a reason to be. Rachel was supposed to be meeting her newly arrived cousins right now, and her mother would be furious once Rachel showed up late.�
“Come on, silly girl,” Elaine said, taking Rachel by the hand. “What in the good Lord’s name has gotten into you today?”
Rachel bit her lip and held Elaine’s hand more tightly. She didn’t want to tell Elaine that her cousins intimidated and frightened her. Elaine would just tell her to gather her courage and get over it. Elaine put a lot of stock in courage - Rachel didn’t like it nearly as much. It always got one stuck in situations they couldn’t get out of.
“Come, come, we still need to get you tidied up--”
“Oh, dear. What have you done this time, Rachel?”
Rachel’s body warmed. She looked up to see Elaine’s son, Blaine, grinning down at her. He was covered in sweat and his shirt-sleeves were rolled up - he must’ve been doing work out in the garden. Rachel suddenly felt flustered.
“She was hiding in a stairwell,” Elaine told her son, softening a bit. She reached out and tried to press down one of Blaine’s wayward curls - it didn’t do much. Blaine’s hair had a mind of its own. “Blaine, honey, you were supposed to get cleaned up as well to meet the Puckerman children.”
Blaine sighed. “Mr. Hummel wanted some last minute yard work done before they got here,” he said quietly.�
Elaine huffed. “Like two fifteen year olds are going to notice yard work. Honestly, Mr. Hummel is a good man, but he works you to death sometimes, Blaine--”
“Mother,” Blaine said, tired expression softening. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Rachel very determinedly did not think about how much she wished it was her cheek Blaine was kissing. “I’m fine. Mr. Hummel is good to us, you know that. He’s a nice man.”
Elaine sighed. “I know,” she murmured. Then, as if just remembering Rachel was there, she turned to her and said loudly, “C’mon you! Up to your room, so we can have you looking like a proper lady!”
Elaine swept Rachel away. Rachel smiled when she heard Blaine yell, “There’s nothing wrong with not being a proper lady, mother!”
-
Kurt was hot and tired and very, very cranky.
He also wanted a cigarette.
He was trying to quit, he really was. Jesse had told him over and over again that it was bad for his throat, and how could he pursue that singing dream if he couldn’t even use his instrument, hm? But cigarettes took the edge off of everything that went wrong in Kurt’s life. Which, right now, covered quite a bit of it.�
He glanced over at them. Santana and Noah Puckerman, just arrived in from San Fransisco. Kurt sighed quietly. His dad had explained the situation with their mother - Kurt’s aunt - a few months back. Apparently her husband was a huge dead-beat. He sat around at home and went out gambling every night, and it wasn’t long until the entire family was up to their elbows in debt. Kurt’s aunt had finally had enough a few weeks back and decided to leave him, taking her children with her. Well, her child. Noah was the only one who Kurt was blood-related to. Santana had been born in the husband’s first marriage - apparently the mother had died and her father had been forced to take her along to his next conquest.�
Santana and Puck shared a certain vague resemblance due to their shared father, but little else. They were both brown-eyed and dark-haired, but Santana’s face was sharper, leaner - it made her always look alert and intense. Kurt, despite himself, was impressed by her. She seemed very intelligent.�
Puck, on the other hand, had a square, rugged face, and from what Kurt had seen, he seemed to be more little more than a pretty face and a flirt with little brainpower to spare. From the moment Noah and Santana had arrived, Noah had tried to woo no less than seven maids, all with varying degrees of success. Kurt was almost looking forward to seeing him try it with Elaine or Quinn or even Brittany - if anyone could put the kid in his place, it would be one of them. Especially Elaine, who was one of the most strong-willed women Kurt had ever met.
And, as always, thoughts of Elaine brought the thoughts of Blaine--
No, Kurt thought. Focus. You have to stop thinking about him.
“How was your train ride?” Kurt forced himself to ask.
Puck, distracted by the nearest maid, didn’t answer. However, Santana’s eyes flickered up towards him. Her mouth curved into something that was probably supposed to resemble a smile, but was entirely too bitter to be convincing.�
“Pleasant enough,” she murmured. Her voice was low and raspy, as if she’d smoked her entire life, and Kurt wondered what she’d sound like singing.�
“I’m glad,” Kurt murmured, almost uncomfortable with Santana’s focus on him.
“Where’s the rest of the . . . family?” Santana asked, a faint sneer on her face.
Kurt frowned at her. “Your family will be here shortly,” he snapped, irked by her tone. They were taking her in, despite the fact that they weren’t even related to her - Santana could damn well be thankful for it. Santana looked startled for a moment.� “Just give them a few minutes. It’s been a busy day.”
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Kurt knew who it was before the door opened - no one in the house ran like Rachel. He opened up his arms as soon as the door knob turned and Rachel, true to form, flung herself in them. Kurt whirled her around and then set her gently down on her feet. For a moment, he realized that Rachel was getting heavier - soon they wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Santanas’s face, full of something very close to jealousy.�
“Kurt!” Rachel chirped excitedly. “Do you like my dress? Do you?”
Kurt eyed her critically. Elaine had fairly good taste, even if she tended to be more conservative than Kurt liked. Rachel was dressed in a clean cut navy blue dress and matching shoes, a ribbon in her hair. Kurt smiled.
“You look lovely, doll” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top her head. “Now, come see our cousins.” He directed her to the two teenagers. Noah had finally stopped flirting with the maid, to Kurt’s relief.
Kurt felt Rachel’s hand tighten in his and sighed. He had only met the cousins once before, briefly - since they were closer in age to Rachel, she had spent more time with them. She’d confessed to Kurt once before that she was scared of Santana. Kurt could understand that a little better now. He had no doubt that Santana could be very intimidating when she wanted to be.
“Rachel,” Santana said, her eyes dark, expression washed clean.
Noah grinned, shark-like, and his resemblance to Santana suddenly became much clearer. “Nice to see you again, kid.”
“Hi, Noah, Santana,” Rachel said, her usually exuberant voice rather small. Kurt gathered her close to his side and glared at Santana. She met him stare for stare.
“I’m sure you’ll all get along wonderfully,” Kurt snapped.�
“Of course,” Santana said smoothly, smirk curling at the edge of her mouth.
Noah looked confused, looking between Kurt and Santana with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, of course,” he murmured.�
The door opened again to admit Kurt’s father and step-mother. Kurt relaxed a little bit as Santana’s haughty expression cleared away. He doubted she’d try anything the presence of the people who were taking her in. Still, he kept a close eye on her.
“Son,” his father said, sweeping towards him with a wide smile.�
Burt Hummel had been busy with work the past few days, and this was Kurt’s first time seeing him in almost a week. Burt pulled him forward for a half-hug, then dropped a kiss on Rachel’s head. When he pulled away, he strode to the Puckerman children, holding out a hand for Noah to shake and exclaiming over how pretty Santana had become.
Carole, Kurt and Rachel’s step-mother, came forward next. She smiled warmly at them both and pressed a kiss to their cheeks. “Everyone behaving?” she murmured to Kurt.
Kurt shrugged. “They’re fifteen and their family is in ruins,” he murmured back, eyes on Santana. “They’re behaving as best they can.” He didn’t really believe his own words, but he didn’t want to make Santana’s attitude an issue.�
Carole nodded. Kurt liked Carole well enough, though she was only older than him by ten years or so. His father had married her after Kurt’s own mother had died when he was ten due to a long-term illness that had wasted her away for almost a year. Kurt could still remember the round of nurses and doctors that had come to the house every day, and those last few months his mother had spent in one of the local hospitals. It was the reason he refused doctors, even when he’d dislocated his shoulder before he’d gone to Yale falling out of a tree. His father had been furious with him, but Kurt had been stubborn. And, in the end, Blaine had been the one to set his shoulder, his hands warm on Kurt’s arm--
No, Kurt reminded himself. No.
“Dinner will be in two hours,” his father said, drawing Kurt’s attention. “And I have an announcement to make.” He turned towards Kurt and Rachel, beaming. “Sam will coming home tomorrow.”
A pause.
Rachel screamed. Kurt grabbed her again and swung her around, heart beating fast with joy. “Really?! He’s really coming home?” He asked, setting Rachel down.
His father and Carole were both grinning. “Yes, he is,” his father said. “He called us this morning. His plane comes in tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Rachel exclaimed, clapping her hands. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight, I’ll be so excited! What time?!”
“Three o’clock,” Carole said, slipping an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “He and a friend from work will be staying with us for the rest of the month.”
Kurt frowned. “Friend from work?” he asked, nonplussed. Sam had never mentioned anyone from work in his letters home or his phone calls. Kurt had been worried about that - it had seemed like Sam was lonely.
“Yes, a young man called David Karofsky,” Carole explained. “He doesn’t have any family to visit, poor lad, but Sam invited him to come and stay with us during his vacation time.”
“Do you think Sam would like a performance tomorrow night?” Rachel asked excitedly. She turned to Kurt, tugging on his hands. “Oh, Kurt, you’ll sing with me, won’t you? Won’t you?”
Kurt smiled and ruffled her hair. “Of course, darling.”
“Sing?” Noah asked. Kurt jumped. He’d forgotten they were there in the excitement.
Rachel drew herself up proudly and announced, “I’m going to be a professional singer one day! And so is Kurt!”
Santana barked out a laugh. “Really,” she scoffed, raising an eyebrow.
Rachel glared at her. “Yes,” she said, meeting Santana’s eyes without fear for once. “We’ll be on Broadway!”
Santana’s mouth tilted at the corner, a small, cruel sneer. Then she looked at Burt and Carole and collected herself, pretending to smile. “I’m sure you will be,” she said with false cheer.�
“I’m sure Sam would love a performance, sweetheart,” Carole said, eyeing Santana closely. “How about after dinner tomorrow night, hm?”
Rachel’s anger disappeared as quickly as it had come up. “Kurt, Kurt, come on, we need to practice!” She tugged at Kurt’s hands, dragging him out of the door.
As Kurt left, he glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Santana’s bitter half-smile.
-
“Kurt, you’ve got to be nice to this girl.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t be nice to her, Jesse.”
Jesse St. James rolled on his stomach and looked up at Kurt skeptically. Kurt gave in after a minute.
“Oh, alright, maybe I was going to be a little mean. But you should’ve seen the way she was looking at Rachel!”
Jesse softened a bit - he’d always had a bit of a soft spot for Rachel. “Look, I don’t care, but if she’s been through what you’ve said, then she’s having a hard time. She’ll probably get over it eventually. Don’t blow it up into something more than it is.”
Kurt hid a smile in his hand. Jesse liked to say that he didn’t care a lot, usually right before he said something that proved how much he did care. It was one of the reasons Kurt was still friends with him, despite his sometimes irritating arrogance and Kurt’s envy over how perfectly coiffed his hair was.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with them,” Kurt said, laying down. He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that complained about grass stains. “It’s not just Santana. Noah was flirting with everything that looked remotely female, and I’m half-worried that some of the young maids will take him up on it.”
Jesse sighed. “Better that he lust after maids than ladies, Kurt,” he said. “Although you’d better get it into his head that he can’t act the same way around dames like Quinn or Brittany. Or Rachel, for that matter.”
Kurt shook his head. “She’s thirteen, Jesse, I doubt Noah is going to attempt anything with her.” If he did, he’d find himself lacking the necessary equipment to have sex.�
“I’m just saying. Although, if you leave it be, Quinn will probably give him a talking to herself. She doesn’t let anyone walk over her, that dame.” Jesse sounded admiring. Kurt snorted. Jesse admired any woman who slapped him instead of giving into his wiles.�
“I’ll talk to him,” Kurt murmured, wondering what the least awkward way to tell someone to be less of an obnoxious flirt was.�
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of movement and turned his head. He froze, tensing up. Blaine stood near the fountain in the middle of the yard, his sleeves rolled up as he pushed a wheelbarrow full of dirty fruits and vegetables up the thin cobbled path that led up to the main house. Kurt absently realized he was coming from Carole’s vegetable garden. She’d came up with the idea, but she didn’t actually spend much time in it. Blaine harvested most of the plants.
Jesse, sensing the sudden change in Kurt, turned his head and caught sight of Blaine too. He sighed deeply, breaking Kurt out of his trance.
“Kurt,” Jesse said quietly. “You’re still . . .?”
“No,” Kurt said quickly, feeling a blush creep up the back of his neck. “No, I just. He surprised me, that was all. What were we talking about?”
“Kurt, you know you can talk to me about--”
“Jesse,” Kurt snapped. “I’m fine, okay, I just wasn’t expecting him to suddenly appear. It’s fine. I’m over it. It was--I was just confused, that’s all--”
Jesse’s hand found his. Kurt tensed. Jesse was never physically affectionate, not unless he was feeling particularly sentimental.�
“Kurt,” Jesse murmured. “You need to be careful.”
Kurt’s hand tightened around Jesse’s and his eyes returned to Blaine, who had stopped to catch his breath. For a brief moment, he stretched up on his toes, and the sun was directly behind his head, giving him a halo. An ache opened up in Kurt’s stomach, and he forced himself to look away, to focus on Jesse instead: Jesse, who was staring at him with warm, concerned eyes.
“I know,” he whispered.�
But it’s already too late, a voice whispered in the back of his head. Kurt buried it back until he couldn’t hear it anymore.