Callie sat before the circle of eager young faces. She had plaited her long silver hair neatly to one side (Just the way Arizona loved it). Around her left wrist, was a single smooth band of pale Jade gifted to her by that very same woman, ten years ago.
Callie gazed at the drawing in its tray of water, confronting herself across a span of 84 years. She could see her wrinkled prune-like appearance reflected in the water, and my goodness, what a far cry she was from the naked Spanish Lolita in the pencil-sketch before her.
Callie pictured herself right back to that secret place, her bare skin against the smooth velvet of the couch; the free flow of Arizona's left hand, the raw scritch-scratch of charcoal to paper, the coolness of the precious stone against her bare caramel bosom; and above all else, the unspoken sexual electricity between Artist and Muse.
"Don't move," Arizona had whispered, where Callie had giggled… "Stay still," Arizona had spoken, where Callie had shifted self-consciously under Arizona's white-hot gaze… My God, those sky-blue eyes of hers, so earnest, so intense that day. The way tendrils of blonde fell in her eyes as she drew, the way she bit her lower lip with concentration. How Callie had yearned to bite that sweet lip for her. Only she wasn't a woman to tease, for she took that Dime seriously. Callie was a paying customer, after all…
Brock Karev pushed a reference photo of the necklace under Callie's nose, instructing her on its monetary value. "Louis the Sixteenth wore a fabulous stone, called the Blue Diamond of the Crown, which disappeared in 1792, about the time Louis lost everything from the neck up. The theory goes that the crown diamond was chopped to recut into a heart-like shape, and it became Le Coeur e la Mer. The Heart of the Ocean. Today it would be worth more than the Hope Diamond."
Callie smiled a lamenting half-smile. Frankly, to her mind, Arizona's drawing of the necklace was infinitely more precious to her than the necklace itself; the latter having been gifted to her, by certain cheating scoundrel she once knew. All those years ago, when that frivolous almost-husband of hers had placed it around her neck, it had weighed her down, like a figurative Ball-and-Chain. It seemed Anchor of the Ocean was a more appropriate name for this necklace.
"It was a dreadful, heavy thing… I only wore it this once," she mentioned, gesturing to the drawing.
Her granddaughter's eyes widened with disbelief, "You actually believe this is you, Grammy?"
"It is me, dear," Callie emphasised. "Wasn't I a hot number?"
The room burst into bemused chuckles. Who is this adorably deluded lady? Somebody get her to the Alzheimer's Clinic, pronto! She might as well have told everyone she was Cleopatra Queen of Egypt, for all their disbelief. Brock felt foolish interviewing this Soft-in-the-Head individual. Nonetheless, he figured he'd test her knowledge with a question only he and his Team knew the answer to. That would certainly settle the matter once and for all.
"I tracked the necklace down through insurance records, and chanced upon an old claim that was settled under terms of absolute secrecy. Do you know who the claimant was, Calliope?" he questioned.
"Someone named Sloan, I should imagine," Callie replied without pause or hesitation.
The entire room fell into stunned silence. Everyone glanced around at each other, in utter amazement. Brock's throat felt instantly parched dry. My God, he was sitting before the Calliope Iphegenia Torres, in the flesh! The granddaughter frowned, confused by the commotion. Callie smiled to herself, happy to be the creator of such jaw-dropping excitement. She winked at her granddaughter, who returned her gaze with quizzical confusion. How have I not heard Grammy tell this story before?! Elizabeth wondered to herself.
Brock forced himself into recovery, his voice escaping him like a strangled squeak. "You're absolutely right! Mark Everett Sloan. An L.A.-based Events-Management Tycoon. He bought the necklace in France for his fiancée… You," Brock gestured to Callie, "…a week before he sailed on Titanic. And the claim was filed right after the sinking. So the diamond had to have gone down with the ship."
Brock turned to Elizabeth, "See the date?"
"April 14, 1912," Elizabeth read out.
"If your grandma is who she says she is, she was wearing the diamond the day the Titanic sank," Brock spoke breathlessly.
He threw his arm around Callie's shoulder, "And that makes you my new best friend. I'll happily compensate you for anything you can tell us that will lead to its recovery," he babbled deliriously.
Put off by the greedy beady-eyed Brock, Callie pulled away from him. She swore she could almost see cartoon Dollar-signs in the salivating young man's eyes.
"I don't want your money, Mr. Karev. I know how hard it is for people who care greatly for money to give some away," she answered, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
Brock cocked his head to the side, perplexed. "You won't want anything? Then why are you here?"
Because she wanted me to tell our story. It was her Final Wish, ten years ago, the love of my life… She could see Arizona in her mind's eye. Wispy pixie-cropped white hair, fair weathered skin, colourful woven-cloth LGBT civil rights bracelet, smooth white-gold wedding band, hands folded neatly over her chest, closed eyes and an expression devoid of pain or regret. Only peace and fulfillment. Asleep in a smooth Mahogany box. Callie hadn't cried that day, for there was nothing to cry about. She had been gifted with 75 years With Arizona. There was only gratitude.
"Ma'am?" Brock said, snapping Callie out of her private reverie. Callie nodded at the drawing, "You may give me this, if anything I tell you is of value."
Brock grinned, proffering his hand. "DEAL!"
"Floor's all yours, ma'am," Bobby O'Malley nodded. Callie took a deep calming breath. My God, she was really going to do it… Share their story with the world.
"It's been 84 years…" Callie began uncertainly.
"Just tell us what you can," Brock interrupted over-zealously. Callie held up a single weathered hand, demanding silence. The room fell quiet, watching the compelling elderly lady intently. This is it. The missing link to our Fame and Fortune! All of it lies right here, in this Dinosaur…
"It's been 84 years… and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in," Callie began grandly.
Her audience looked instantly captivated. Elizabeth smiled. Grammy had always been a fabulous storyteller. Without taking his eyes off the fascinating old lady, Brock fumbled for his mini-recorder, setting it on a table beside her. Elizabeth clasped her grandma's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Callie closed her eyes, losing herself in their story. She had never told this story in her life, and after all this time, good lord, it felt wonderful to open up. As cathartic as releasing a caged dove.
"Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was. It really was…"
Iris - Goo Goo Dolls
And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now