The First Time Ever chapter nine
ARIZONA'S POV
It had been four hours since I had last seen Callie. Four whole hours since her father turned up at the hospital, and that had been at eight pm. It was now approaching midnight and Callie had yet to return any of my calls or inform me that she was still alive, and I found myself growing gradually more worried as I watched the clock tick on from my spot on the couch, from which I hadn't moved for almost an hour.
This was so unlike Callie. Normally if anything happened that meant she wouldn't be home on time she would tell me immediately. It was a given that she would return home later due to the unexpected arrival of her father, but it was approaching the four hour mark now and that was more than I had expected.
I checked my phone hopelessly for the millionth time that night, sighing in annoyance yet again when there was no message from Callie. I was beginning to get worried now. I picked up my phone and tried to call her again. It rung five times before I eventually gave up and tossed my phone aside yet again, focusing my eyes yet again on the clock. Normally, I would have gone to the hospital to look for her, or called Mark. However I knew going to the hospital was out of the question because I knew that there was a high chance Carlos Torres was still there, and Mark hadn't seen Callie since he informed her that her father was in the hospital.
Giving up all hope of sitting still, I got to my feet and started pacing anxiously, my eyes glued to the door. I continued this pattern for nearly ten minutes, when finally, a flustered and apparently slightly drunk Calliope Torres burst through the apartment door.
"I know I should have called."
"Yes, you should have."
She dropped her bag to the floor helplessly, leaning on the table for support when she swayed dangerously. "I'm sorry." She said in a voice so small that my resolve immediately melted in to a pile of goo and I walked over to throw my arms around her in a gentle embrace.
"I was just worried about you." I told her, leading her over to the couch. Once we were sat down I wiped her hair from her face and was sad to see that her eyes were puffy and red, clearly from crying. "It didn't go so well, huh?" I said, referring to the situation with her father. Although he hadn't done anything but stare me down before she arrived, I could clearly tell that he wasn't impressed. This suspicion was confirmed as Callie began to rattle off the conversation she had staged with her him, my heart breaking for her the whole time. I found myself thanking my lucky stars that my parents had taken it a lot better when I had come out.
I sat on my bed with my left knee bouncing rapidly, my mind racing through eighteen different scenarios that I may have to face after I delivered this news to my parents.
"You need to calm down, Zona." Tim told me, placing a hand firmly on my jittering knee and lacing his arm around my shoulder in support. He was the only person that I allowed to call me Zona, and that was only after he'd ignored every single one of my protestations and I had given up on trying to stop him.
"Easy for you to say. It's not you that they'll kick out." I snapped, to which Timothy chuckled and shook his head.
"If they kick you out, I'll go with you. Team Stardust all the way, right?" He said, making me chuckle. I took a minute to think about the night that Tim and I had hid in the treehouse in the garden of our house in Indiana. We were hiding from our mother, whose favourite green vase we'd broken that day by skateboarding in the house despite her constant reprimands for doing so. I was eight and he ten, and together we dubbed ourselves Team Stardust, it was us against the world, or so it seemed.
"Right. We'll live in the treehouse if anything goes wrong." I laughed. We remained silent for several minutes, both of us looking back on that day. Suddenly, Tim stood up and looked down at me expectantly.
"Come on. Now or never." He said, marching out of the room, making me laugh.
Ten minutes we had successfully convinced our parents to sit around the kitchen table. By this point I felt as if my stomach was about to burst through my ears. I nervously played with my nails as my parents observed me closely.
"So, I, um, have something that's been a thing for a long time, and I wanna tell you…" I began, stumbling over my words and not making eye contact with anyone at the table. "And I don't want you to flip out so please just remember that I'm still the same person…"
My dad immediately sprung up from his chair, startling us all. "You're pregnant! Aren't you?" He barked, causing Timothy to snort with laughter and everyone to stare at him questioningly. I gave him a stern glare, although I had to admit it was quite ironic that my dad automatically assumed the exact opposite of what I was trying to tell him.
"Totally not what it is…" He mumbled under his breath. My dad took a deep breath and sat back down and continued his expectant stare while my mother looked at me confusedly.
"So what is it then?" My mom asked me.
"I'm kinda sorta, um, like, gay." I mumbled, unsure if they could even make out what I had said. I felt sick to my stomach as a silence dropped over the kitchen. My mother was the first one to break the silence as she stood up and rounded the table, pushing Tim's arm away from around my shoulders and pulling me in to a hug.
"Joanne's your girlfriend, isn't she?" She asked softly, referring to my 'friend' Joanne, who I'd been dating privately for close to three months now.
"Yeah." I admitted, leaning in to the embrace. "Please don't me ma."
"I only have one question." My father said, standing up again. I swallowed, mentally going over my escape plans for when he asked me to get the hell out of his house. "Are you still who I raised you to be?"
I smiled up at him with tears in my eyes. In that moment it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my shoulder. "I am."
I continued to hold Calliope as she cried it out. Occasionally she would murmur incoherent words, but most of the time she just cried. I found myself feeling helpless as I looked down at the broken Latina in my arms. I also felt anger. Anger at Carlos Torres for making someone who I loved cry. I was not going to have this.
I threw a half glance to the other side of our bed where Callie was sleeping peacefully. My eyes flicked to the alarm clock that told me that it was 7:00am. Without making a noise I slipped from Callie's arms carefully and tiptoed through to the bathroom, throwing on the nearest set of clothes I could find. I quickly brushed through my messy curls before grabbing the bag that I usually took to the hospital. My shift didn't start until noon, but I had a mission complete before then.
After sending a quick text to Teddy asking her to cover for me if Callie asked where I was, I left Callie a quick note that said I had been paged into the hospital, and with that I was on my way.
Pulling up to the hotel in my car, I let out a nervous sigh. Not only was I about to speak to a man who quite frankly scared the crap out of me, but this hotel was extremely extravagant and intimidating, which didn't help my nerves in the slightest.
"Excuse me, can you please give me the room number of Mr Carlos Torres?" I asked the stony-faced reception lay who looked up at the clock before glancing back at me with raised eyebrows. However she did as I asked.
"Room 413." She told me in a bored voice.
"Thank you to you too." I mumbled under my breath as I walked towards the elevators. I held my breath as I watched the number that indicated the floors rise, until eventually it stopped at the floor I had requested, floor 4.
I wrung my hands together as I scanned each door as I walked along the corridor. Once I located number 413, I took a deep breath before knocking. Most people would have dubbed me rude or crazy for turning up at 7:00am when any sane person would have been sleeping, but from what Callie had told me about her father, I had no doubt he'd already be awake, and my expectations were met as the door swung open to reveal a fully dressed Carlos Torres standing in the doorway, wearing an unimpressed expression.
"Dr Robbins?" He asked in a short tone. I didn't wait for him to say anything further before I began the speech that I' spent all night going over in my head.
"She's your daughter." I began, but he cut me off, stepping away from the doorway and walking back into the room. I quickly followed him.
"I don't know you well enough to talk about her. We're not gonna do that." He told me simply taking a step away from me. However I just took a step closer and continued talking, not looking him in the eye but staring out of the window.
"Most people think I was named for the state, but it's not true. I was named for a battle ship. The U.S.S. Arizona." I continued. "My grandfather was serving on the Arizona when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and he saved 19 men before he drowned." I told him proudly. The story of my grandfather was one that was very close to my heart, and it made me proud to tell it.
"Pretty much everything my father did his whole life was about honoring that sacrifice. I was raised to be a good man in a storm. Raised me to love my country. To love my family. To protect the things I love." I remembered my childhood, following my father's patriotic actions with pride and swearing by the life lessons that he had taught me.
"When my father - Colonel Daniel Robbins, the United States Marine Corp - heard that I was a lesbian, he said he had only one question. I was prepared for, 'How fast can you get the hell out of my house?' But instead, it was, 'Are you still who I raised you to be?'."
I let my words hang in the air for a few moments, the memory of that day hitting my hard for the second time within twenty four hours.
"My father believed in country the way that you believe in God. And my father is not a man who bends, but he bent for me because I'm his daughter. I'm a good man in a storm. I love your daughter." I said and he looked up in surprise. "And I protect the things that I love. Not that I need to. She doesn't need it. She's strong, and caring, and honorable. She's who you raised her to be. " I finished, feeling the emotions build up in my chest. Carlos Torres remained silent, although his gaze had softened considerably.
Sensing that my work here was done, I left the room quietly without saying goodbye. I smiled to myself. I had a good feeling about this, and all I could do was wait and pray that Mr Torres did too.