The days that follow THE day, are frighteningly normal. I can tell she is making extra efforts to make things ordinary between us. We go through our days in our typical fashion: she operates, I write, fetch coffee, make small talk, etc. We talk about nothing but the day-to-day hospital gibberish. And when I leave the hospital, I don't come back and join in on her dance party. Despite this "normalcy", things have changed. She let her guard down, long enough for me to cross over the line and realize I never wanted to go back. To an outsider, we appear to be going about our daily, normal business. But there is electricity that has rolled between us since that day. When we are anything less than 3 feet apart, she stiffens, like a teenage girl expecting her first kiss. Her eyes are softer, and they roam when they previously were laser focused. It always seems like she's pondering something, when she used to seem so direct, so self-assured. For me, nothing has changed other than my acceptance of what I have felt all along. Calliope Torres has captivated me from the start. But these thoughts were all fleeting and incomprehensible until we danced and I was allowed to really see her. In that moment, it felt like my life had been set on fire.
Four full days went by before we talked about anything substantial. That night just as I was grabbing my coat from her office, she asked me to wait for her to walk out to the parking lot. Smiling, I said, "Sure, I would love to"
She anxiously put her things into her purse, locked her office, and began walking in step with me. We walked without speaking about halfway through our walk. I wondered if she felt the same way I felt, like it just felt good to be next to one another. But then, she spoke.
"I'm...sorry about the other day. In my office" She said quietly.
"You don't need to apologize Dr. Torres" I said with a smile "It was kind of...nice actually"
"Please, Arizona, call me Callie" She said. I looked to her confused; she stopped, turned to me and locked eyes with me.
Breathless, I uttered, "Callie".
We were close, closer than we had ever been. Our faces mere inches apart. And she let us remain that close for a few moments, until she finally stepped back, hanging her head low.
"Arizona I have really enjoyed working with you this last month or so. But I am requesting a new scribe, effective immediately" she spoke strongly. My face fell, simultaneously, hers fell too.
"I don't know what to say" I said quietly. I felt like she had knocked the wind out of me. "Why?" I asked. Though I knew why. SHE knew why. But as desperately as I wanted her to, she wouldn't say it. She wouldn't acknowledge why. She just let the still air hang between us, refusing to make eye contact with me.
"Goodbye, Arizona" And she left, without another word.