I know I really should be writing another chapter of 'What Do You Got?' but this whole idea wouldn't leave my head after last weeks episode. So instead of getting an update of that you get this! Which I hope you guys really in joy because I had a really great time writing it! This one-shot is inspired by 'The Harold Song' by Ke$ha, the lyrics are in italics. I really hope you guys enjoy! Would love to hear some feedback! =D P.S 'What Do You Got?' will likely be updated early next week! Sorry for the slight delay!
I miss your soft lips, I miss your white sheets…
Entering my apartment I head straight to my miniscule kitchen, "You would've hated it." I think to myself just as I always did when I came home. I go straight to the fridge and take the only magnet of the fridge to retrieve what was beneath held securely beneath it; something that back in Seattle had been tucked into my purse with all the other things I couldn't live without. Holding it firmly in my hands, I run my fingers gently over the surface of the picture. I had no memory of it being taken but it was my favorite.
It was me and you curled up in bed, our bodies as close as physically possibly, your arm wrapped tightly around my waist; your tan skin standing out against the white sheets of your bed. I don't know if it had happened hours or minutes later after the picture was taken but I could remember being awakened by your soft lips against my neck, working their way up to my lips just as they frequently did on mornings that you had to go to work before I did; you hated being up all alone.
But this morning you wouldn't have been up alone, no Cristina had come home early from her overnight shift that you could tell had been lengthily and didn't consist of anything cardio related by the look on her face as we entered the living room. She was sitting at the counter angrily eating a bowl of what appeared to be Captain Crunch. You had decided to take a shower before eating, quickly leaving the room at the sight of her, leaving me to deal with the monster.
Before I know it a digital camera is being forced into my face. "The next cardio case you get, I'm your resident. No ifs, ands, or buts. If you don't, this is going to be made the background of every computer at SG." I look at the screen to find the same photo I'm staring at right now. I followed orders because I knew how desperate residents could be, especially Cristina. As soon as I got the chance I printed off the photo, tucking it into my wallet for safe keeping; until now.
I keep it on my fridge, looking at it everyday, reminding myself of what I lost, what I miss. I keep it there to remind myself of how it's not's entirely my fault, though I'm still to blame that I'm here alone.
And this is so hard, cause I didn't see, that you were the love of my life and it kills me.
Just like always I run my fingers over the outline of your body against mine before putting the picture back in its place; as I do I think he things I've been forcing back all day at the clinic. It's hard. I know it's not entirely my fault that I'm here alone but I can't help but think what would've happened I had stayed. Or even if I had not let you let out our anger so passive-aggressively and made you talk to me. Maybe then the last thing I said, well yelled, to you was that we were over; because we're never over. You're always there in the back of my mind, your eyes, your smile, your laugh, everything about you. I didn't see it before, because you were always there, even when we were apart you were always at the hospital, I saw you every day. But now I realize,you were the love of my life and I walked away. It kills me because I walked away from everything I ever wanted, the dream. I walked away for the dream I thought I had wanted my entire life when everything I ever dreamed was right in front of me. It's you, Calliope; you're the dream.
I see your face in, strangers on the street.
I think about how every time I leave this apartment which is only to go to get food of some sort or to go to the clinic like I do every day I see your face. As I'm walking to the gravel road, someone catches my eye. But I don't see them, I see you. It's as if you're a ghost walking around haunting me, forcing me to remember what I once had. And every time I'm left broken; my breath hitches, my vision begins to blur from hot tears, my hands begin to become clammy and shake, my feet feel as if they're rooted into the ground. It's the scene in the airport all over again, but only in reverse. I watch you walk away from me step by step until you're gone. And even then, once you're out of sight, you're never out of mind. It always takes me a few minutes to be able to breathe normally again, to be able to put one foot in front of the other; to begin to move towards where I was going, fully knowing that you're not here beside me, no matter how much I wish you were.
I still say your name when I'm talking in my sleep. And in the limelight, I play it all fine.
But I can't handle it when I turn off my night light.
Every time I did something in this apartment you came to my mind; this was the place where you completely ruled my thoughts. Every night when I'd come home my first thought when I come through the door is that you'd hate how small the kitchen was, then I'd proceed to the fridge to admire the one picture of you and I that I had here that I could physically hold in my hands. Those two things always came first, and then I do the one thing I never did at home, except for that one girl's night out.
I take out a bottle of beer; I hated the smell, you'd always have some bottle of white wine in the fridge next your six-pack so that I wouldn't have to drink beer with you. It was a simple gesture but it made me know that you cared. But here I'd take a bottle of beer to nurse while I e-mailed Teddy or whatever I could do that night simply because you liked it.
As I shut the fridge door and begin to walk out of the kitchen, I look back over my shoulder to catch a last glance of you before proceeding into my room, those words always killed me; my room, not ours. Sitting in bed before starting what I had planned to do that night I would sit in the slight silence the room offered; the walls were paper thin so you never had complete silence unless your neighbours were out. And unfortunately for me, at night they were never out. It was an evening not much unlike this one that made me realize how thin these walls were.
I was awakened in the early hours of the morning, I remember it was exactly 2:18 because I had rolled over and the bright angry red numbers from the alarm clock that had once been yours were staring back at me. I had only got a moment to realize the time before I remember the reason why I woke up.
There is a furious sound of someone banging on my door. It is only now that I realize that I've broken out into a cold sweat. I slowly crawl out of bed, grabbing the only other item of yours that I had left as I hesitantly begin the short journey to the front door. As I enter the main living area of the apartment I throw your University of Florida sweatshirt on; it was like you were right there next to me, protecting me from whatever was on the other side of that door.
I tiptoe up to the door and begin to peek out through the peephole that the clinic's maintenance man installed the day I arrived. My eyes are met with the sight of my next door neighbour, Freddie; he was one of the young residents hired by the grant committee to work in the clinic for six months as part of their residency from their respective hospitals. He looks half scared to death, his face filled with worry. I immediately take the chain of my door and yank it open.
"Freddie?" I ask open the door. "What the heck is wrong? You don't go banging on people's doors at two in the morning you know." I whisper in a slightly angered tone.
"Well, I wouldn't be banging on a certain person's door if they were scaring the crap out of me." He hisses, obviously trying not to wake the other neighbours.
"What do you mean, Freddie?" I ask, completely confused as of what he was going on about.
"You're going to play that game, huh?" He asks, obviously still worried. "Well I'm not going to let you because it can't keep going on like this Arizona, you've got to talk to somebody and that person might as well be me."
"Freddie, I don't have a sweet clue what you're talking about." I say as I step back into the apartment, not wanting to continue this conversation out in the middle of the hallway.
He sighs deeply as he follows me, shutting the door behind him. "Arizona, how long have we known each other, for what two weeks? Three weeks tops?" I nod as I take a seat at the lonely bar stool in front of my small kitchen counter. "Well every night you talk or cry in your sleep. But ever since two days ago you haven't talked, or cried, you've screamed."
At his words I put my elbows on the countertop, putting my face in my hands. That was it, the straw that broke the camels back. "Are you sure?"
"I am absolutely positively sure." He says nodding his head as he speaks. "We all see it, Arizona. You come to work and you think that the tears and the bloodshot eyes are checked at the door. But they're not, we see them Arizona. You're not happy, we all can see that."
"But," I say in a weak attempt to defend myself but I don't get very far as Freddie keeps talking.
"No buts, Arizona. It's time to let it out. It's time for you to let us in." He says as he leaving the small entrance area, walking over to the other side of the counter. Freddie takes my forearms in the two of his hands, pulling them away from my face, forcing me to look at him.
"What is it?" I ask, even though I have my doubts that I don't know what it is, even if I don't remember it.
"What is what?" He asks, tilting his head; obviously not realizing what I was asking him.
"What do I say? What is it that I'm screaming so loudly that you can hear through the walls?"
"You talk about her or to her, usually. But the past two days," he stops, taking a deep breath. "The past two days Arizona you've been yelling for stay where she is, to not close her eyes, to not dare leave you. You tell her that they'll be here in a minute and to hold on, that Teddy and Owen will be there and they'll be able to fix you. You tell her that you were wrong, that you wanted kids, her kids specifically with her brown eyes and her goofy grin, and you tell her that you can't live without her. You tell her over and over." He stops as he realizes that tears are cascading down my face.
"I miss her," I say as sobs begin to take over my body. "I miss her so damn much."
"What is this? Goodie-goodie Arizona Robbins cursing, it's an outrage!" He says with a chuckle as he pulls me into an awkward hug over the kitchen counter.
"Shut up, Freddie!" I say, as I slap him on the arm as he pulls away.
He just chuckles, obviously taking no offence to the gesture. "Is that her?" He says, nodding his head towards the fridge.
"Yes, that's my Calliope, well it is Calliope, but I don't think I should consider her mine any more." I say as I mentally hit myself up the backside of the head.
"She's beautiful." He says his tone is as if he's simply stating a fact rather than making a comment about her looks.
"She is." I say, as the words leave my mouth I can't help but gasp for breath; it was like the wind has been knocked out of me. "Oh my god, I am such an idiot!" I yell, slamming my fist against the kitchen counter. "I am such"
Freddie grabs my hand before I can get the chance to slam it down again. "A great person."
"No Freddie, I am a complete idiot who left the love of her life in the middle of an airport after yelling at her that we were over."
"You apologize to her, Arizona. You tell her why you did what you did and it makes perfect sense to me. You know that it makes sense, that it was a good reason for you to go, you've got to know that or you wouldn't have done it. It was incredibly selfless to make her stay Arizona, she may not see that now or maybe she does, but you'll never know her opinion if you don't ask her."
"Is that what I say in when I'm talking to her when I talk to her in my sleep? Is that what I used to say before?" I ask, trying to make sense of my subconscious.
"Every night." Freddie assures me. "You'd tell her that you were ashamed that you walked away because you know how much Erica hurt her and how you and her were completely different but you know that she'll compare the two of you any how. You tell her that you walked away for her, so that she wouldn't have to come here and be miserable because she'd miss Seattle and everyone in it. You tell her that you wouldn't let her give up something for you, again."
"I think that my subconscious is a better man in a storm than I am." I say to myself, sighing as I wish I had simply been able to write all this out in a letter so that maybe then I'd finally be able to know if she hated me or not. That was one of the hardest parts; not knowing. "I told her that I couldn't live without her, and then I walked away. I am such an idiot."
"And sometimes a good man knows when to abandon ship." Freddie says calmly.
"Only when it's their last resort. I abandoned her and it wasn't my last resort. I could've, no, I should've stayed."
They say that true love hurts; well this could almost kill me… I would give it all, to not be sleeping alone.
I knew as soon as I stepped onto that plane that I had left my heart back in that airport; I left it tightly fastened around your neck. I was taught that sometimes no matter what you're better judgement tells you that in some situations you've just got to walk away.
But I know now that my father may be a smart man but in that case he was wrong. I know that I should have stay. I know that I loved you enough to leave you behind but it would have proved how much I truly loved you that much more if I had stayed.
I know now why I was screaming in my sleep a month ago; because it all was true. I simply can't live without you. I can't live with a pain in my chest excruciating enough to kill me because I'm too far away to hear you laugh, to see you smile, to feel your heartbeat. My hold on my sanity was strained, but it was the last straw, it snapped the line.
And I'm giving it up. Tonight is that last night, I pray, that I'll have to sleep alone because tomorrow I'll be home; where I belong, with you. So I take one last swig off beer, putting the empty bottle down on my bedside table before putting my head down on my pillow, hoping that from now on the only beer I taste is from your lips.