The Aftermath, Chapter 17 – Aggressive Stranger
I do not own these characters. They belong to Grey's Anatomy and Co.
Arizona awoke to the sound of a light, yet persistent knocking. She told herself she was dreaming and rolled away from the sound of knuckles on wood. Sadly, the rapping hastened. Baffled, she checked the time. The numbers on her digital clock read 2:18 am. Knowing only good news waits 'til Noon, she reached for her prosthetic and skillfully slid into it. She then grabbed a wraparound sweater to cover her tight fitting T and a pair of running pants to disappeared her boy-cut briefs.
While making her way to the door, Arizona placed her thumb on the Emergency Call button of her phone, just in case. She'd no idea who would be knocking at such an hour; let alone what she'd do if it were an aggressive stranger.
Once near the door, Arizona switched on the light. The instant she did, the knocking stopped. This led her to believe that whomever was on the other side, could either see light pouring through the peephole or streaming under the base of the door. Cautiously, she put her right eye to the miniature magnifying glass. She felt her heartbeat in her throat as she did.
Arizona was both relieved and taken aback to see Callie on the other side of the door staring back at her. The look on her face made Arizona think Callie could see through organic material. Fear suddenly overwhelmed her. She nearly lost her balance as she swung the door open wide and stepped toward Callie, demanding to know if something had happened to Sofia.
Callie, clearly taken aback by Arizona's swift step-in slurred, "Oh no; nothing like that. Sofia is fine. I'm not here about her. I'm here because we need to talk."
Arizona, familiar with Callie's intoxicated cadence, took a brief second to exam her. She looked amazing in her tight fitting jeans, knee-highs, formfitting, cleavage-promoting blouse, and unzipped leather jacket. Then she took a closer look. This time she noticed slightly grayish skin-tone and puffy red eyes, which made her think Callie had been drinking all evening. She's probably just come from Joe's, she thought. Joe's closes at 2:00 am and Arizona knew it took about 15 minutes to walk from there to her apartment.
Relieved to hear no harm had come to their daughter, but simmering in frustration, Arizona blurted, "If Sofia is fine, why are you here?"
"Hmm," Callie said hoarsely, but added nothing more.
Arizona stared her down. In the process, she saw something in Callie's eyes that she hadn't seen before. Something she couldn't identify. Then she realized it wasn't just in her eyes, but the scowl upon her face, and the way she held her shoulders.
Callie, unable to maintain eye contact with Arizona's sparkling blue brilliance, sighed and quietly offered, "Sofia has a sleepover with Zola."
"Okay," Arizona said slowly. She knew Callie hadn't answered her question and felt the simmer start to boil. "I'll ask again. Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?" Callie replied with a low sexy voice that in the past would have given her the upper hand.
Arizona immediately recognized Callie's tone. It stirred something within her, but at the same time, it had less affect than it did in the past. "Callie, come on; it's late. Why are you here?" she husked.
"Like I said, we need to talk."
With an exasperated tone, Arizona said, "Callie, you've clearly had a lot to drink and I'm sure anything you need to say can wait until tomorrow."
Callie, unappreciative of the out Arizona gave her, laughed. It was a tittered expression that came off as dismissive. "You see that's the thing, Arizona. This can't wait until tomorrow. You know why?" Callie said hearing her words run together.
Arizona resigned, leaned against the wooden frame, inhaled mindfully, and whispered, "Why, Callie? Why can't this wait?"
Visibly pleased with Arizona's willingness to engage, Callie smiled and said, "Because I'm drunk enough to put it all out on the table. Everything! Right here, right now."
Arizona, took a moment to consider what was taking place. Her ex-wife was standing in her doorway, in the middle of the night, drunk. She'd dropped by unannounced and had something she wanted to say; something she believed couldn't wait. But, in order for her to say it, she needed to be intoxicated.
Over the past eight months, she and Callie had experienced many things. They'd danced the dance of anger; cried more tears than either would have imagined; were wrestled to the ground by mind games, and licked the wounds of heartache and betrayal. They'd tried couples therapy to the point of emotional exhaustion; made compromises neither wanted to make, and shared a deep level of intimacy only partners who lost an incredible love can understand.
Arizona let curiosity make an unruly demand and as a result dismissed her better judgment. With a slow and audible sigh, she stepped aside and waved her hand indicating it was okay for Callie to enter.
Callie didn't hesitate for one second. For lack of a better metaphor, she sprung like a rattlesnake, walked directly to the couch, plopped down, and asked if Arizona had anything to drink.
Arizona smiled inside. She really did have a thing for assertive women. It's what initially drew her to Lauren. She thought back to the morning she and Lauren met and how Lauren took her cup of coffee, tasted it, and made it her own. The memory brought her comfort and she made a mental note to give her attraction to assertive, competent, bossy women real thought one day. She then returned her focus to the situation at hand and said, "Do you really think you need any more to drink, tonight?"
"Yeah, I do. I'm not on the schedule tomorrow and I'm clearly not driving. What's the problem?"
Arizona didn't want to fight, but she did want to know if a drunken Callie would be near their daughter. "Are you staying at the apartment tonight or Meredith and Derricks?"
"I'm staying at the apartment."
Once again, Arizona dismissed her better judgment and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of wine. She returned with a half full glass, handed it to Callie and slowly lowered herself on the couch beside her ex.
"Thanks." Callie said and took a generous gulp. She tasted the familiar peppery flavor of Arizona's favorite varietal and let memories of their time together flood her senses. She took another large gulp, placed the empty glass on the table, and turned toward the blonde. After taking in the site of Arizona's curvaceous body, Callie made direct eye contact and said, "I'm so angry with you Arizona. So fucking angry! It's destroying me. I can't seem to move past this. Every inch of my being is angry. Every inch!"
Arizona knew the anger of which Callie spoke. She'd felt the same after the amputation. It consumed her, just like the anger Callie felt now was consuming her. Without thinking, she moved closer to Callie and tried, with soft eyes, to communicate compassion.
Callie read Arizona's look and nodded. "I know you know this anger. I get that now. The only difference Arizona, is you fucking moved on. You moved on and I'm trapped in this state of absolute rage. A rage I can't move past because every time I do, I'm pulled back in by the thought of you fucking Boswell! You fucking Boswell, Arizona! Over and over and over! All these months. You fucking her. Arizona! Her! Not me, her!"
Arizona heard the pain in Callie's voice and without thinking reached out and touched her hand. The second she did, she felt a shift. What followed was something that caught her so completely off-guard that a tiny part of her psyche lifted from her body.
From above, Arizona watched Callie move in quickly, grasp each side of her face, assertively use her upper body to press her back against the sofa, and kiss her hard. Then something else happened; something that caused her psyche to instantly reconnect with her body. She smelled the familiar scent of Callie's arousal comingling with the smell of men's cologne. These two things gave her the presence of mind to push Callie away. And when Callie used her size and strength to clasp onto her hips and try to kiss her again, she was able to turn her head and yell, "Callie stop!"
There was a slight delay between the time Callie heard Arizona say stop and when she actually stopped. After coming to her senses, she felt horrified at what she'd done and loosened her grip. Her realization was sobering, to say the least.
The second Callie let go; Arizona got to her feet and stood well outside of Callie's reach. With a flushed face and anger level dangerously past the boil, she said harshly, "You need to leave, NOW!"
Seeing the look of rage upon Arizona's face, Callie rose to do exactly as told. "I'm so sorry, Arizona, she said as she stepped away from the couch. She repeated the exact same phrase as she walked toward the door. The third time she apologized was from the doorway. Her voice broke at "I'm," shattered at "so," and nearly disappeared at "sorry."
Arizona was too furious say anything, let alone make eye contact or offer forgiveness. She did, however, have enough empathy to refrain from physically pushing Callie out the door, like she wanted.
After Callie left, Arizona stood, frozen, in the middle of her living room for what seemed like an hour. It wasn't until her blood pressure returned to normal that she caught the lingering smell of her ex and someone else's cologne. Her mind instantly wondered what events took place before Callie's arrival that evening. Then something wonderful happened. Arizona consciously and successfully stopped the thought. If Callie was dating someone, or wanted to hook up with random people, it was not only her right, but beyond Arizona's control. What she could control in that moment was what remnants of Callie she allowed to be left behind. Padding quickly toward the shower, Arizona hoped the soapy hot water would wash away both the scent and energetic fragments of Callie's physical and emotional intrusion.