God, I am so tired. Why am I even writing – or more like, why am I attempting to cramp out a chapter? Oh yeah, right. Because I cannot fall asleep. I have not slept a single solid night through since I came back from Miami, since I am sleeping alone again and scared of the nightmares. When Callie is next to me, I am less afraid. Because she is there and she makes the bad dreams less real when I wake up. Now, when I lie awake in my own bed with nobody here to comfort me, it's a terrifying imagination to even close my eyes and try to sleep. Horrifying images invade my mind like a movie that I am forced to watch over and over again. Or like one of those scary movies my brother made me watch when I was younger, giving me nightmares for weeks. Only this time it is no movie. It was real. So instead of sleeping, I am sitting on my bed, writing. If only you would get paid to write multiple different stories about the same hot character or cute couple and how they fall in love in many, many different ways.
I have tried to self-diagnose myself through google searches, and, yes, it is as stupid and idiotic as it sounds. It led me to everything from insomnia to PTSD and a couple of words I had no idea how to pronounce, nor did I know what they meant before I looked them up. Needless to say that it didn't help and that I am still not sleeping aside from those few minutes I am dozing off every now and then. My mother is worried, but at the same time she is supporting my dad – the Colonel – who is not pleased with my decision to drop out of law school. So, I am camping out in my room as much as I can, avoiding my strict father and counting down the minutes until Teddy will pick me up only to drop me off at the airport. I have no idea how to ever thank her for all the picking up and dropping off she's doing. Maybe I can find something nice for her on my mini vacation. Three hours to go, I tell myself.
"Arizona, honey, can I come in?", my mother asks after opening my bedroom door for a small gap. She purposefully forwent the usual warning knock because she knew I would send her away or pretend to not hear her. But the crack is so small that not even her head fits through it. "I just want to talk to you for a couple of minutes. This Christmas... it has not gone as I would have loved for it to go."
Which you are to blame for, too, Arizona and your mother loves Christmas. No one in this family was raised catholic, or religious, by any means. We stem from a military family through and through. But my mother just loves having the family – as small as it is – gathered around the same table and having a nice, peaceful dinner together. "Sure, mom", I reply curtly, closing my laptop and putting it on my nightstand, careful not to push the half empty cup of now lukewarm chocolate over the edge of it. The marshmallows that had been swimming in the hot liquid were already in my tummy. "What's up?" Way to sound nonchalant, A, really. You know damn well what's up. Tim is stationed overseas and hasn't been able to call yet, and you ruined Christmas for your mother by dropping a bomb on your parents two days prior the festivities.
"I brought cinnamon pie", she says and waits for me to take the plate before she sits down at the foot end of my bed. The pie smells amazing, but I am not really hungry. "Your father, he doesn't understand why you want to stop attending law school. He-"
Holding up my left hand, I cut her off, "He thinks I am a quitter and he made that very clear yesterday." I scoff. As if he hasn't seen cases of PTSD before. Admittedly, what soldiers see and live through is worse. Whenever Tim tells me some bits and pieces of what is happening over there, it is intangible for me how he has not gone mad yet. Apparently, he must be stronger than you, Arizona. "Dad is a marine, he trains soldiers and he has worked with some of them who came back from war with freaking PTSD! How can he not understand that sometimes it's impossible to keep going, that stopping what you're doing is inevitable, for your own health and for you to have a chance to move on. "He thinks it's because I don't want to study law, and honestly, I still don't. But mom, I had a panic attack the other day, I am barely sleeping and I just can't go back knowing I will keep hearing the screams and the sound of the shots fired. And I got shot!" Tears are streaming down my cheeks as my mother pulls me into a warm and comforting hug.
She lets me cry, her hands rubbing soothingly over my back and she does not say a single word while holding me. Only when I pull back, she opens her mouth," I don't think I could do it either, Arizona." My mother brushes loose strands of my blonde waves out of my face. "But your father is worried that you decide on a whim and throw a good career away. We don't want you to regret this decision in the future."
There is a pause as we sit in silence – a silence that is much less intimidating than the silence over Christmas Eve dinner, might I add. "I won't. To be fair, I don't think I would have chosen a career that has anything to do with law anyway, degree or not. It's just not what I want. Dad went behind my back and submitted my application letter, the one I wrote before I went to travel the world and changed my mind. He had no right to do so. And I only continued and kept going to classes because I wanted dad to see that I am not a loser", I confess with a lopsided, sad grin. "But I have already looked into the university programs and what they offer here in Boston, at the California State University and at the University of Miami." It might be a shock to my parents- especially to my mother – but if I switch the subject of what I am studying, I might as well transfer to a university that is closer to Callie.
Deciding to ignore the last bit of information I just spilled, my mother asks, "And what did you look into?"
"Languages. Mainly English and maybe Spanish or Italian as a side subject. Or something like German or Danish." I think I haven't talked this openly with my mom in weeks, months even. It's good to feel understood and to be heard. My mother and I always had a good relationship. When I came out to my parents, I told mom first so she could support me when I would finally tell my father. She has always been there for me and I have missed this. "You know I have always loved languages. And I could become a teacher, a translator or a writer." I am still thriving for the latter to happen, eventually.
A smile identical to mine appears on my mother's face and I know she can see that happening as well. "Well then, I will talk to your father and try to get through that thick head of his. Maybe I can get him to come around until you come back from wherever you are going this time", she jokes. "I love you, Arizona." She gives me one last hug – and it is not just any hug, it's one of her momma bear hugs – before she eventually gets up and moves towards the door "Tell Callie and her family we say merry Christmas. And please be on your best behavior."
Yeah, Arizona. Be on your best behavior. No obnoxiously loud sex with your girlfriend's parents sleeping in the same house. With the level of exhaustion I will have reached when I get to Fort Lauderdale, I will hopefully sleep like the dead with Callie's warm and curvaceous body wrapped around mine.
Sunglasses pulled down onto my nose to shield my tired eyes – and the dark circles underneath them – from the bright winter sun in Fort Lauderdale, I patiently wait to be picked up by a certain Latina goddess. Those close to five hours on the plane, I tried to ignore the loud and hyperactive children and chose to concentrate on what lay ahead of me. Namely, six whole days I am about to spend with the most amazing woman walking the face of the earth. And when it comes to my favorite singer slash actress, I can never spend enough time with her. And this time, with her family as well. Which makes me nervous, I admit. I have never met any girlfriend's parents before. Mostly because we never got to that stage in our relationship. Seriously, A, you know that Callie is only the second woman you have an actual serious relationship with and that your other serious girlfriend was keeping you a secret from everyone. But with Callie, the stages pass by so fast. Sometimes, I feel like it was yesterday that I met her for the first time for what was supposed a simple meet and greet. Yet, it feels so amazing. So amazing, that my fears and concerns, my doubts about all of this have disappeared. She is everything I have ever wanted in a girlfriend and the relationship we have is everything I have always dreamed of when I imagined being in one when I was younger. Still, I am nervous. What if they don't like me? What if I make an idiot of myself?
When a black car with tinted windows finally pulls up, I quickly grab my luggage, anxiously waiting to get away from the airport and go somewhere where I can rest. "Hey, beautiful", Callie welcomes me after exiting the car. Right, George is with his family. A swift look around to make sure that we are remotely close to alone, she tugs on my hand to pull me closer. "I have missed you." The whisper that brushes over my bottom lip is sultry and filled with love at the very same time. I have no idea how she does it. She is graciousness and sexiness fused into one person. "Are you okay?"
Avoiding the question and leaning closer to give her a chaste kiss instead, I cannot contain the moan bubbling up in my throat from the taste of her lips against mine. When we break apart and Callie takes off her sunglasses, full brown eyes are staring at me, worry evident in those deep orbs. But she doesn't push me, hopefully understanding that I will talk to her eventually. Just not in an airport were breaking down crying is the farthest away from my comfort zone as it could be.
Oh, what a headline that would be – Callie Torres: tearful breakup at the airport. Yeah, that's not happening. Neither. The crying nor the breakup. Those pictures taken from you on campus have already been all over the tabloids. "So, where are we headed?", I ask when she opens the trunk and I heave my suitcase into it. "I mean, is it far from the airport?" There is one thing I can say for sure about the United States. In most states, you have to drive for hours, and leave a lot of miles behind you, to get from one place to another. Heck, you can ride for hours and still be in the same state. Being born and raised here, I never noticed that. Until I traveled around in Europe, where you can cross three to four different borders within seven hours, this was all I knew.
Her reply comes after we got into the car and I am already buckled up. "It's about an hour car ride to Riviera Beach, with no traffic." Her seat belt clicks as well and this time, she inches closer and connects our lips for a longer kiss. "You can get some sleep, if you want to, Arizona. I'm sure you need it. And I promise I'll wake you before we get there.
As if on cue, I stifle a yawn that tries to escape and my eyes are dropping close. Sleep sounds awesome. So so awesome. Callie starts the engine and I can already feel that I am drifting away into a soft slumber. Oh sleep, how I have missed you.
A little over an hour later – according to the digital numbers on my cellphone – Callie woke me up from my undisturbed nap as promised, giving me enough time to ruffle through my locks and pull them back into a much less messy ponytail after she put the car in park. The nap, even though not as much sleep as I am lacking, was well enough to make me feel a little rested. Once I exit the car, my mouth falls agape. The house in front of me if huge. And by huge I mean gigantic. How many people can live here? Geez, Robbins, you better not get lost and stumble into a room that you should not enter. Seriously, this looks as big as beast's castle, and knowing me, I will find and open the door to the forbidden west wing in no time. "How could you forget to tell me that your parents live in a palace?"
Callie chuckles and comes up behind me, wraps her arms around my stomach and breathes in my shampoo. "I think I forget how big it seems to people who didn't grow up in a house like this."
Damn right it does. My eyes are wide open, moving up and down the beautiful embellishments adorning the exterior walls and the cirrus weaving its way along the banister leading up to the front door. It smells amazing around us. Fresh and flowery, added by the touch of the close ocean. "You grew up here?" I knew she was well off – after all, Callie Torres is a huge name in the movie and music industry – but I had no idea she grew up rich.
She shakes her head behind me and replies, "Not in this house, but it was similar, maybe a little smaller. My father is an investor and my mother is a lawyer. They worked their ways up to where they are now. And the better they got, the bigger the house became, I guess. You get used to it."
No, you don't get used to it. My family is not poor, by any means, to be honest. But we aren't considered rich either. And with my dad being in the military, we moved around quite a bit, but we never lived in a house with more than three bedrooms. Because we didn't need it. When I finally force myself to quit staring, my nerves are back. You can do this, A. She met your parents, so you can meet hers. But Callie is an amazing person. With everyone. And I often feel like a klutz when I meet new people, especially if I desperately want to impress them. Just the way I did when I first met my girlfriend. And the first time I met Teddy, all those years ago in high school, I almost jammed the door of my locker into the quarterback. Yes, I did have a tiny crush on Teddy when I first saw her.
"Are you ready to go inside or do you want to camp out here", she teases, my suitcase in one hand and the jacket I brought – because you never know - in the other. "I promise they won't bite. And if they do, I am here to protect you." We make our way up the stairs and Callie takes my hand, squeezing it for support.
You can do this, A, I tell myself over and over again.
Before my gorgeous girlfriend has the chance to open the door, it's swung open and a middle aged man dressed in a suit and a neutral facial expression welcomes us. Of course they have housekeepers. They probably also have a chef and a person to keep the garden tidy and pretty. "Miss Torres, welcome back. And this must be Miss Robbins?"
"Albert, let the girls come in!" The voice belongs to a very beautiful woman who, from the looks of it, is clearly Callie's mother. The resemblance is remarkable and I can only imagine that, in a couple of years, the younger brunette will look exactly like that. "Don't stand there, Callie, let me take a look at that girlfriend of yours. Oh my, aren't you gorgeous!"
Not able to stop the blush from finding its way into my cheeks, I hear my girlfriend's melodic voice as she chuckles. "Tha- thank you, Misses Torres", I stutter out. Yup, I knew it. I'm making a fool out of myself. "Your home is impressively beautiful. I mean, from what I have seen so far, it is. Beautiful, I mean." God, stop talking, now!
"Thank you", Callie's mother replies. "But none of this Misses Torres nonsense, I'm Lucia. And this man over there, Carlos, come here, Callie and Arizona are here, is my husband and Calliope's father." She waves for the man that steps into the foyer, his demeanor calmer than his wife's as his eyes fixate me with a hard glare. "Oh Carlos, don't be like this. I can already tell that Callie chose well."
"Máma, I didn't choose anything, it just happened", Callie objects, now blushing as well.
Waving it off, Lucia smiles, "Still very good. I can see what you meant when you said that her beauty is radiating."
My eyes go wide as I stare at my girlfriend and at the same time, my cheeks turn beet red. She simply shrugs her shoulders and shows me her million dollar megawattsmile.
"What are your intentions with my daughter?" It's the first words Carlos speaks, his tone is harsh and his icy blue eyes are squinted in my directions. A swat to his arms from both, his wife and daughter accompanied with two yelps of disbelief, force him to elaborate. "What? I don't mean to cause any trouble, Calliope, but you have a lot of money. This family has a lot of money and I just want to make sure that whoever you decide to bring into this family is not with you for the dollars you earn but for your rich heart."
I can completely understand where he is coming from. It was one of my worries as well, that people would think exactly that. That the media would label me as some blonde gold digger. Callie is about to say something, but a tactically placed hand on her forearm stops her. "Mister Torres, I can assure you that my intentions are honorable. I love Calliope with everything that I am. And if she'd earn only a single penny a day, I would still love her the same. Trust me when I tell you that her fame scared me in the beginning. I would never deliberately go for someone famous since I don't like being put into the spotlight. But I fell utterly in love with your daughter's big, warm heart and the amazing character she is." To my own surprise, my voice is as calm as my nerves seem to be. Honestly, how did you do that? "Have you ever felt your heart beating so hard in your chest that you could hear it loud and clear in your own ears, Mister Torres? Because that is how I feel about your daughter. She makes me feel things I have never felt before and all I honestly want is to make her happy as long as she allows me to do so." Ending here, I give it some time to let my words sink into his head. Callie's eyes show a little wetness, her mother's as well, but I cannot focus on them. My eyes are locked onto the man of the house.
When Carlos Torres' posture visibly relaxes, I can also see a small smile appear on his face. His hands scratch through his gray beard before he says, "Very well then, welcome in our home, Arizona. You earned the right to call me Carlos. Would you like to hear some Christmas memories over a glass of eggnog?" And just like that, I apparently convinced Carlos Torres enough to change his view of me and the role I play in his daughter's life. And you did it on only a few hours of sleep, Robbins. You go, girl.
Carlos and Lucia walk ahead and I want to follow when Callie holds me back. "You are amazing", she whispers, "and before we follow my parents I want to point out that we are standing under a mistletoe." Not giving me any time to look up, she presses her lips to mine in a lingering kiss. Mhmm, I have missed her plump lips on mine. I could melt right on the spot. Then again, I also want some eggnog and hear Christmas stories from when Callie was little. I choose to enjoy this feeling of being home a little longer first.
So, thoughts?