A/N: So, here it is! And, it is not 200-some words, might I add. Okay, so on our plate today, we have a bit of Erica and Callie POVs. I think it's beyond obvious which is which. This is set the morning after the break up. Anyway, do enjoy.
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Erica Hahn bent over the heavy cardboard box, blinking furiously o stop the impending tears that threatened to break loose. Her once-furnished apartment was now nothing but a maze of cardboard, tape and emptiness. It felt to her as though with each box she filled full of trivial items collected or kept, a piece of her soul was also being shoved away, hidden beneath this last weeks article of Times magazine or a figurine she received as a birthday present from her brother last year. And every time she reached for a trinket of some sort that reminded her of Seattle, anything that still had threads of memory connecting her to… to Callie. Her eyes stung once more.
She was stronger than this. She was better than this. She had been through relationships that had ended badly. Relationships, might she add, that had lasted a whole lot longer than this stint. And, just as before, she would handle this one rationally and stoically.
'So why are you moving away?' came the dreaded voice of reason from within her head. Erica scowled. She did not need this right now. Things were hard enough as it was. She had no need for her conscious to take a hold of her—now of all times—and wreck the perfectly clean exit she had planned.
Erica took a deep breath. She could do this, she had to. With one last moment to compose herself, she began to pack more of her belongings into the black pit of boxes.
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Callie woke up on her side of the bed slowly. Her eyes were dry and irritated—the telltale sign of having cried herself to sleep. The previous evenings events flooded back to her, bringing a new wave of misery with them. She didn't know what she had done wrong. What had she said? It didn't make any sense. There were things they had disagreed about before and, as before, they should have been able to get over it. All they had to do was talk… Of course, Callie had to admit to herself, she had hardly talked to Erica since their relationship had come into bloom. They had devolved. Callie had backed away, pulling against Erica's wishes the whole time. Despite her constant claims of happiness, Callie had no doubt that Erica had been all the wiser. Hell, Callie had left after they had had sex! Who did that? After Erica's revelation and her self-accepting speech of understanding, Callie hadn't known what to do. Sure, she'd loved it the second time around. Once she had figured out what was happening; once she had gotten over the whole chick thing, then it had been great. But then it had been all Eureka! for Erica and she began to see leaves… Callie was scared. She wasn't seeing leaves or glasses or whatever the hell had been going on. She'd had fun sure, she'd enjoyed herself. But, she hadn't 'seen the light.' She hadn't felt a change come over her. She hadn't had a realization regarding her sexuality. In fact, as far as she had been concerned, Erica was just an anomaly. She didn't like girls… she'd never… But Callie knew now. She had the revelation. It was different than Erica's, granted, but it was a revelation nonetheless. She had realized, as soon as Erica had left last night, as soon as she saw her disappearing across the pavement and she had felt that heart-wrenching feeling of having something you love torn from grasp. Then it hit her. And it was too late.
Or was it?
Callie dove for her cell phone on her nightstand, frantically pressing her #1 on speed dial.
"C'mon, pick up. Pick up!" She muttered, wiping away all her residual tears and pacing the length of the bedroom. Her eyes combed the ceiling, praying with all herself to have Erica pick up the effing phone. Her heart was beating double time, pounding in her chest. Her breath, too, was irregular, coming out in sporadic, sharp bursts.
After two rings, the phone went to voicemail. Callie's heart sank and a strange empty feeling washed over her. She was ignoring her calls. She didn't want to talk to Callie. Or hear from her. Or see her. Or have anything to do with her. Callie shook her head. She didn't need that. She needed to keep focused. She could deal with her own meltdown after. She waited impatiently for Erica's recorded message to end. The sound of her voice sent daggers though Callie's heart while still succeeding to give her stomach butterflies. After Erica finished, the computerized woman's voice came into play. Generic and static-y, she explained the well known rules on how one records phone messages. Callie felt her teeth grind together in irritation. C'mon! Play the goddamn—
The sharp tone sounded, cueing her to speak. She jumped and stumbled through a message.
"Erica! Listen, it's uh Callie. Of course, you know that… but, um… Look, I'm really sorry about last night. I don't know what I did to you or what I said wrong but if we just talk it through, maybe…" Callie paused, squeezing her eyes shut. She sounded whiny, pathetic, weak; even to her own ears. God, why did this woman drive her so nuts? "Erica, I know you're ignoring this call. I know you're there. If you don't pick up this phone, I'll…" She winced. Now she was yelling at her! Erica would never answer to anger; it was just as bad if not worse than self-pity. "Erica," She began again, her voice calm and faintly unsteady, "Erica, I love you. I do." She let loose her held breath with a small laugh. She'd said it: the thing that seemed so hard to say, the thing that had her head reeling and confused and irrational. She'd said it. "I love you. God, I don't know why I didn't know that before. I guess I didn't think I did love you because you were—are—a woman and I didn't think I could love a woman because I wasn't gay. At all. And… I was scared. I was terrified actually. The last time I felt this way… well, I didn't feel this way, I guess, not exactly anyway. I mean, George hurt me. I gave him everything and he broke everything. Then you came along and you're beautiful and wonderful and you put me back together. You helped to heal me. But I was scared. I thought I was crazy or that my mind was not under control… I don't know. I was confused. I'd never felt this strongly about George. Never. He was great, and I loved him the way I thought I should love him but I didn't have… this. This thing we have it's great. Its—"
Callie was cut off by another shrill BEEP as the computerized woman kicked in to inform her that she had run out of time. Callie shut her eyes tightly, willing away the pain. Now she had to wait. She hated waiting, especially when waiting entailed scary, important, life-changing things. Of course, if Erica had picked up her fucking phone then she wouldn't have had to wait! Callie groaned and threw her phone—a little too exuberantly—to the opposite corner of the room. She groaned again upon hearing the loud clatter the phone made as it came into contact with the wall, leaving a faint dent in the wall.
She let herself fall back onto her bed, face-first. She had run out of time alright, in more ways than one.
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A/N 2: I hope you got the personality switch. If not, tell me. If so, tell me anyway. Reviews are great that way. ;)
