AN: Alright guys, here's another chapter before I'll be too busy for a few weeks. I'm moving into a new apartment, probably no WiFi for a while AND no time until the middle of December. I will still write when I have some minutes to spare, but weekly updates will likely be impossible. I'm not giving up on these stories, I promise. I'll come back.
"Hey A, your mom let me in. You forgot your wallet in my car and you'll need your ID- whoa!", my best friend's ramble comes to an abrupt stop when she finally looks up from her cellphone and sees the inside of my room. "Did a bomb explode in here?" I see green-blue eyes scan the walls, previously plastered with posters, pictures and articles of and about a certain Latina. Right now, I still have some work ahead of me, but one wall is completely blank already, as white as it was the day we moved into this house – and another wall is also halfway back to the original boring white wall. "What's happening in here?"
Cautiously stepping off the chair I have been standing on, I look at my best friend as I blindly put the posters down onto my desk, carefully so I won't damage them in any form. "Does it look like I'm horse-riding, Teds? I'm taking her pictures off my walls", I say nonchalantly and get back on the chair with a wide grin before a small coughing fit hits me. I've been coughing since Monday, but it's nothing major so I keep brushing it off and turn my attention back to my task. These posters have been all I had, they've inspired my stories and gave me good plots for my own personal dreams. But we all got to move on and in a way, grow up. And growing up you did, Arizona, I giggle to myself.
"But why? Did she do anything to hurt you?", Teddy asks, starting to walk back and forth in my room, always making sure not to bump into the chair. "I swear, if she broke your heart or whatever, I'm gonna – celebrity or not, I'm gonna kill her." Seeing my best friend so indignant about something Callie could have done to hurt me, it is actually quite amusing and I can't help the chuckle that leaves my mouth. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because, Teddy, she hasn't done anything bad", I smile at my best friend, secretly loving her protective attitude. "Callie has been nothing short but amazing. She treats me like a queen all the time", I tell her and only stop when another cough finds its way out of my mouth. Motioning around me, I continue, "I am doing this because it feels like it's the right thing to do. Looking at all these pictures from photo shoots and magazines, I can tell that it's not the same." I hold up one of the movie posters that shows Callie all dressed up in fancy clothes and perfect makeup in a man's embrace. "That is simply not the woman I get to know." To be fair, this picture has never been one of my favorites and if it wasn't for the brunettes shining megawatt smile, it would not have been stuck to the wall in the first place. She does look amazing."And I feel like I'm a stalker when I see these pictures all the time."
"That didn't stop you before", she counters and ducks just in time to dodge the hand that was about to slap her up the head. "Seriously A, I think it's good for you. And whatever it is that she does, she makes you happy." Picking up one of the posters, she raises an eyebrow at me and asks, "You gonna throw them away?"
Honestly, I don't really know. Right now, it feels wrong to have pictures of her all over my wall, because we are together? Dating? Whatever we are. It just doesn't feel right to stare at them all the time now. Also, I kind of get the real deal when she talks to me in the evening and not a single poster of her is as good as her voice or hearing her laugh because I tell her a joke I heard in one of my classes. "I don't know. Maybe I put them in a box and see where what we have goes?"
Swooning, Teddy flops down on my bed. "What you have. That sounds so mature, A. I gotta say that I'm proud of you", she states with a smile and I am sure there is more to come, but her words get lost under the loud bellowing sound of my dry coughing. "Geez Arizona, that cough sounds worse than it did yesterday. Are you sure you're not getting sick?", Teddy asks, sounding actually and honestly concerned.
Vehemently shaking my head because I refuse to get sick when I can have almost three uninterrupted days with Callie, I ask her to hand me the glass filled with water that I had put on my desk earlier and let the liquid soothe my throat. It's feels a bit raw and dry, but the water helps. "I can't. I have a flight to catch tomorrow." Nope, you're not getting sick now, Robbins.
"Flight! Right!", she says and jumps at my words. "You forgot your wallet in my car, must have fallen out of your bag, and I guess you need your ID tomorrow, right?" Nodding, I reach for the wallet, but Teddy pulls her hand away. "Say that I am an awesome friend." I scoff at her, but repeat her words – she can be so childish at times. "Thank you, I know", she winks. "Now, what can I do to help? Since I am already here.
"Only you, Teddy. Only you can get away with that. Do you treat Henry the same way?" But my question remains unanswered, verbally at least, instead I manage to catch the pillow which she has thrown my way before it hits me square in my face. "I love you, too!", I laugh out loud and a second later, my friend's laughter joins mine as I get back to the task at hand. With Teddy's help, it all goes a lot faster and when the clock strikes eight-thirty, all my bedroom walls are free of anything that shows Callie Torres, except for the one picture of us together – the one where she kisses my cheek – in a frame that matches the one I gave the Latina for her birthday. The posters are currently piled up on my desk since I still need to find a place to put them, but they will probably end up in a box – for now.
"This actually looks cute, A", my best friend comments with a sigh after staring at the picture for a longer moment and now sinking back into the cushions I have on my bed. "But as your best friend, it's my duty to ask; does she make you happy?"
It's hard not to get all dreamy-eyed and lost in my memories, but I manage – but barely, Arizona - a nod and a shy, "Very." Even though it's been only a few weeks, and only three weekends that could actually validate the real beginning of whatever we are heading to, she really does make me happy. And she makes law-school more bearable, because I know that, at the end of the week, I get to see her. That's because you're so whipped. "She makes me very, out of this world, happy, Teddy. And she's so... kind to everyone."
My best friend chuckles at my swooning but since I hadn't expected anything else from her, I let it slide. "I still get to meet her, right? To see for myself if she's good enough for you?", she asks, getting up and collecting her things, getting ready to head either home or to Henry. "She still needs my approval."
Getting up myself, I smirk. "We'll see about that. I want her to think I have normal friends."
"Bite me!", Teddy counters, a faked expression of shock on her face before we once against burst out laughing. "Alright, I'm gonna leave you now so you can call who we both know you're going to call. But don't stay up too late, with that cough, you should consider an early night and get some rest." She gives me a hug and closes the door behind her. I can't actually remember when I stopped walking her to the front door, it must have been at some point during our senior year in high school. My parents have taught me manners, but to me, my brother and even my parents, Teddy is like family. She could literally come and go as she pleases if she would have a key.
OUAD
My Thursday morning had not gone as planned. Thinking that I overslept, my mom had come into my room, yelling at me to wake me up and discovered that I was groaning and coughing in my bed. Apparently, my body had decided to shut down over night, with fever and a general feeling of being sick. I hate it, despise it even. I knew that there was only one way for my mom to let me fly to LA tonight, and that would be me going to my classes. But as much as I have tried to get up, I didn't stand a chance as dizziness and pure exhaustion caused me to collapse right back onto my pillow. When I tried to argue only to find out that I barely had a voice to talk, I resigned. There was no denying that I was in fact, sick. The doctor had confirmed my speculation later around noon, telling me that I had a very severe case of bronchitis tying me to the bed, and gave me some antibiotics.
So now here I am, lying on the couch since my mother helped me downstairs to let the stickiness out of my room after I took a nap, playing with the phone in my hands. I still have to tell Callie – as best as my voice will allow – that I cannot make it this weekend and it's frustrating. It's so infuriating that I feel like throwing a temper tantrum – not exactly mature, I know. But I can't help it, I always get emotional when I'm sick and I simply want to be with her. "Tha-nks, mom", I rasp out when my mother brings me another cup of hot tea, my voice just a little above a whisper. Tea has never been my favorite drink, but a doctor's order is a doctor's order. Before I realize what's happening, a few tears roll down my cheeks. I detest being sick. I don't like staying at home this weekend. I just want to see Callie.
"Sweetie", she sighs and sits down on the edge of the couch where my body leaves enough room for another person to somewhat comfortably sit. "I don't know what's going on in your life because you're keeping it a secret", my mom starts with a warm smile, letting me know there's no accusation behind her words. "It must be something amazing, someone – a woman, I presume – amazing. I haven't seen you smiling so hard in a long time. But what- or whoever it is, and for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry you can't fly to LA this weekend." A gentle hand strokes my cheek and wipes away some tears. "It'll be better in a few days."
She gets up and leaves the living room, doing whatever a mother does all day and probably setting up a pot of that really gross soup she swears kills every virus. And if disgust actually had the power to strengthen my immune system, she might be right. But it's not. And I really don't like her soup, made after her great-grandmother's recipe. Glancing at my phone, I purse my slightly chapped lips. Man up, Robbins, it's not like you're breaking up with her, I think and sigh again. Still, there is no easy way around this. Leaving Callie in the dark would be anything but nice.
So, with my nose blown and my voice oiled with a few sips of kind of surprisingly delicious mix of honey and tea, I dial her number. When she picks up, I can detect the smile in her voice. She is just as much looking forward for tonight as I am, or was. "C-allie", I call her name, the one word breaking at the cracks of my voice.
"Arizona? Is that you?", she wonders and, judging by the rustling I hear from the other end of the line, she probably checks her phone. Granted, that's what I would do, too. "Arizona? Oh my God, what happened? Are you hurt?"
Shaking my head until I realize that she can't hear that, I say, "N-o. Si-ck." The doctor had told me that talking would be exhausting for the next few days, but I had no idea how right he was until I tried to sound as best as possible over the phone. "Can't c-ome", I manage, hoping she heard me. She probably couldn't, Arizona. And just like that, I am forced to fight the second wave of tears.
There's a short moment of silence before her softly spoken words fill my ears, definitely more relieved now, "Oh honey, what happened to you?" For the next few minutes, she asks me questions and I sort of groan when I want to be affirmative to her words. It's not ideal – nothing about this is how I want it to be – but it's easier than actual talking. "You should get some sleep, my beautiful Arizona. I promise I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
"C-all, to-night?", I ask, my voice becoming sorer by the minute. Even if I wouldn't be able to talk by then – which it looks like right now – I still want to hear hertelling me about her day.
The Latina's laughter reaches my ear and makes me smile. She always has the same effect on you, Robbins. Please don't ever let it go away."I'll call you tonight, Arizona. I- I miss you. Now, get some rest and get better. Ask your mother to make you some soup with chicken and vegetables. It'll help your throat."
Deciding not to gag from the sheer thought about mom's soup, I rasp my bye into the phone and the line goes dead. She is most likely still busy but I cannot find it in me to worry about stealing her time. After all, she's now free for the whole weekend. By the way, it still sucks. Leaning into the pillows my mom had stuffed behind my back, I stare up at the ceiling until another fit of coughing wrecks my body. My hands fumble for a moment to free the blanket that is all tangled up with my legs and tug it closer to my chest – the warmth is supposed to help. I wonder when that's going to happen. Definitely not soon enough for me to catch my 7pm flight today. Ugh!
OUAD
In the evening, my mom and dad already had dined earlier, I am still lying on the couch, propped up on the same pillows and staring at the television, watching a rerun of the last American Bake-Off semi-finale with my parents. It's after nine and I am still not hungry – a typical symptom when I am sick – and my throat feels like someone forced me to swallow acid. Everything hurts. Tea, soup – yes, I had some of it to please my mom – and even simple swallowing. Admittedly, the soup helped with one thing, it warmed me up from the inside, but now I am back to freezing. Despite the thick hoody and the scarf and the skiing underwear – utterly comfy and warm leggings – I put on earlier, I am shivering from feeling so cold.
Teddy has called a few times and texted me throughout the day, asking how I was doing and if I wanted her to come by for some company. But I don't. If I get her sick and she misses too many of her classes, she would only have a harder time passing her exams. And unlike me, she studies what she likes. My best friend wants to become a doctor, a surgeon to be specific and absorbs all the medical knowledge the profs and TAs teach her. I, on the other hand, I don't mind missing classes.
"Sweetie, do you want some tea or anything else?", my mother asks me, already getting up from her spot next to my dad on the second couch. Usually, each would occupy one double-seater, but I don't think my mom minds being close to her husband of almost thirty years, and from the smile that grazes his lips, neither does my dad. They still love each other.
Shaking my head, my eyes follow my mom when she – just like she usually does – straightens the one picture frame on the wall that always seem to hang a little to the left. Two pairs of almost identical blue eyes meet when the doorbell rings and I shake my head again. "No-t Teds", I rasp, trying to tell my mother that she should send Teddy back on her way if it is indeed my best friend at the door. I won't be the reason she gets the plaque as well. She's probably already caught some of the bacteria over the week, but I don't need to make it worse.
"Okay", my mother agrees and I strain my ears when she opens the door, expecting to hear my best friend's voice in an argument with my mother that she should let her in. "And who are you?", I hear the woman who raised me and my brother say instead, and I am about to focus my attention back to the TV-show – since it's definitely not Teddy – when I hear another familiar voice.
"I am sincerely sorry to intrude so late in the evening, Mrs. Robbins, but I'd like to visit your daughter." Callie? No, Arizona, you must be dreaming. Callie is in LA and not in Cambridge. She's a busy person when you're not around to distract her. "I have to apologize, I seem to have lost my manners on the flight over here. I'm Callie Torres. Would it, maybe, be okay with you for me to come in and say hi?" It really is Callie! Oh God.
Knowing my mother, she's eyeing the brunette up and down, in all probability recognizing the actress from the posters on my wall while she decides whether to let her in or not. "And how do you know my daughter?", my mom asks in full momma-bear-mode. I know she also squares her shoulders, I've seen her do it many times when she thinks she has to protect her children – no matter how old me and my brother are. She sure did the same with my last girlfriend, sensing that she wasn't treating me right the moment she officially met her and she kept glaring at her until we broke up. My mom is the nicest woman when she likes you, and even if she is not too fond of you. But if she thinks a person is going to hurt her 'babies', she can get scary.
Now, what will Callie tell her? Oh my God, momma is probably staring her down – even though the Latina is taller than my mother – nobody is safe from Barbara Robbins' glare. "I'm your..." Your what? "Your daughter had planned to come and spend the weekend in LA with me, Mrs. Robbins", Callie explains the not yet clarified status of our... relationship? Are we girlfriends? "And I had planned on taking her out on a date." Definitely more than friends. Thank God she knows my parents know I am gay.
"Very well", my mother answers and the next thing I hear is the door falling into the lock. "Would you like some coffee or tea? We still have some leftovers from the casserole I made for dinner, I'm guessing you didn't have dinner yet, Callie?" MOM!, in internally scream. You can't just call her by her first name. But, wait. Wait, wait, wait. Does this mean that mom already likes Callie? She's never been like this with my ex-girlfriend. Polite, yes. Offering dinner and coffee two minutes after meeting her, with a very welcoming tone in her voice, no.
"I don't want to cause any troubles, Mrs. Robbins. I'm just here to see Arizona, she didn't sound too well on the phone", she courteously declines, not knowing that momma doesn't take no for an answer.
And sure enough, my mom brushes her off with a quick but sweet 'nonsense' before leading the way to the living room. "Arizona, you have a visitor. Daniel, would you mind emptying the dishwasher?"
Dad gets up with a tight nod and stops in front of the Latina, who looks absolutely gorgeous in that pair of tight jeans that show her long, toned legs. And the white blouse with the deep red cardigan is just sexy as hell, effortlessly so. I may be sick, but I am definitely not blind. "Good evening, Ms-"
"Torres. Callie Torres. But please call me Callie", she rambles and exhales audibly before saying, "Good evening Mr. Robbins" I witness the exchange of a firm handshake and my father's stare immediately softens. And so does the brunette's whole body, relaxing visibly after getting past the first meeting of both, my mom and the Colonel. When my dad leaves us alone, she walks further into the living room and I bend my legs at the knees to make room for her before I try to sit up. "Don't", she stops me, combing some of the stray strands out of my face. "Hi." She leans closer, her lips cool against my cheek when she kisses me there. "How are you feeling?"
"Si-ck." I would love to groan and roll my eyes at the nonexistence of my voice, but that sound would never be loud enough to be heard. It's still hardly more than a whisper when I try to speak. "How-"
"Shshh, no talking. Go a little easy on your voice for a couple of days", she cuts me off and cups my cheeks before moving her right hand up to feel my forehead. "You're pretty warm. Fever?" I nod. "How high?" Grabbing my cellphone I show her the text I sent to my best friend earlier, reading 102°F. "It could be worse, but it also could be better."
Nodding again, I attempt a weak smile as I look down at my own hands in my lap. "I'm sor-" But she stops me again, this time with her index finger pressed against my lips. Furrowing my brows, I look up and see warm brown eyes and a heart-stopping smile greeting me.
"Don't be sorry. You are sick. It happens. It's not like you planned this, right?" I quickly shake my head, I would honestly think I lost my mind if I did something so stupid. "I am here now and your mother was nice enough to let me in", she chuckles. "So, we'll stay in Cambridge this weekend. Granted, the weather isn't as good as it is in LA, it's rainy and cold. But the company here is the best."
Okay, so, Callie met the Colonel and Barbara. How will it go? Will they really like Callie? Interrogation? And how will Arizona be since she can't exactly talk, that poor girl?