Callie looked in the bathroom mirror and purred. Or came as close to purring as a grown woman could while staring at her own reflection. She looked good. She knew she looked good. And she knew Arizona would think she looked good once she returned home from Boise.
They had a sexy date scheduled. Sofia had been fed, bathed, and put to bed, and Callie had beautiful lingerie, delicious body paint, and a dirty mind. Life had been so blissful for the two. And tonight, Callie was intent on showering her wife in slow lap dances and heavy pleasures.
The hour was getting late, and despite herself, Callie's eyes were drooping while waiting for Arizona's arrival home. She tried desperately to stay awake for their night together, but Arizona was later than expected, and after back-to-back surgeries, Callie found herself giving in to heavy eyelids.
Arizona screaming.
Arizona screaming bloody murder and pushing Callie away.
Callie was up with a start, trying to locate the problem. Trying to fix, fix, fix, and when she couldn't, trying to brush it under the rug. Was it phantom limb? Was her wife having a nightmare? What was the issue and how could it be solved?
Arizona yelling.
Callie trying to identify, categorize, and solve, and Arizona berating. Arizona pushing buttons. Arizona finding a dark side that even she didn't know she had.
Arizona shutting down.
It's time to move on. Come on, come on, come on, remember when we were fine? Let's be fine. Why aren't we back to fine yet? Arizona trying to be fine. Arizona shutting everything down in a big attempt to be fine. Arizona having sex (she wasn't ready). Arizona buying a hospital (she didn't want to). Arizona with another woman's mouth on her body in an on-call room tryst (how did it come to this?).
Callie gasps awake, gulping in air. "A nightmare. Only a nightmare. One hell of a nightmare," she exhales to herself with each deep breath. Her eyes focus in the darkened bedroom, and her mind does too. It all comes back.
Her wife nearly died on the side of a mountain. Callie had to amputate her leg. Their daughter called out for her mother who was quickly slipping away from both of them. The months - years - of mutual pain and confusion, it wasn't a dream. It was their reality. Or it had been, at least. Until three years ago, when Callie had tearfully walked away from their marriage.
Callie regained her eyesight in the darkened bedroom and looked down to the other side of the bed. Owen lay asleep, though restless. Two years into their relationship - two years sleeping next to this man - and Callie was certain his mind taunted him with equally tragic memories. They didn't fill each other's dreams, but they found some type of comfort together. And when the sun rose in a few short hours, Callie was certain they'd both put on a partial smile and greet each other with a forced kiss and a shared breakfast.
Callie sighed. I wanted fine. I wanted to hurry up and be fine. How am I still here, nowhere near fine?