The Aftermath, Chapter 19 – Epiphany
I don't own these characters. They belong to Grey's Anatomy and Co.
Arizona awoke with the arrival of first morning light. The quiet that rang in her ears was blissfully deafening. The last time she'd experienced such solitude was in Big Sur. The only difference between Big Sur and Ashevelle was Big Sur didn't include the pleasure of reaching out and touching the warm soft flesh of a 5'7" amber-eyed Goddess who less than seven hours earlier had brought her to such orgasmic heights that she shed tears. Yes, that's right - tears. For the first time in Arizona's life, she cried unrestrained tears from having experiencing ecstatic euphoria; unrestrained tears from feeling the full effect of untethered release; unrestrained tears from having tasting the tantric dimension skilled practitioners spend eons seeking-yet she and Lauren arrived there with little effort whatsoever.
Arizona watched Lauren's chest rise and fall. The look upon her face was one of absolute redress. It brought Arizona back to the exact moment when her final wave crested. She recalled the way her body shook so severely that she was disoriented to all space and direction. Had Lauren not held on as tightly as she did, she surely would have fallen to the floor.
Deep in her bones, Arizona knew the feeling of Lauren's long lean fingers inside her would be forever imprinted upon her soul. Just as the rhythmic pattern established by Lauren's pelvic thrusts would continue to resound in her psyche, again and again and again. It was a sequence uniquely their own. A cadence set by two women who ids were so extraordinarily open that they created an otherworldly yet primordial song. That Lauren came at the same time (and just as intensely) without penetration or touch exemplified the affect such openness can have the human body. It wasn't the first time she or Arizona experienced a sympathetic orgasm with the other, but never before had one been as satiating. Both women collapsed into each other's arms. As Arizona wept, Lauren held her close and stroked her hair. Neither could speak. Both knew there weren't words for what had transpired. They let the energy dancing between their bodies address what verbs and adverbs could not describe.
Acutely aware of how wet she was becoming (simply from replaying the events from the night before), Arizona decided to get up and surprise her lover with coffee in bed. After all, it was coffee that brought them together. She reached for her prosthetic and remembered exactly how it got to the side of the bed next to her. She and Lauren were famished after hours of naked abandon and Lauren escaped to the kitchen for water and a plate of fresh fruit and Medjool dates. Upon her return, she retrieved Arizona's prosthetic from the bathroom and placed it alongside the bed. She did this without being asked or need of acknowledgement. It was an act of normalcy brimming with compassion. Even the handrails in the shower held significance. Arizona noticed them the instant she stepped in and suspected they were mounted for her visit. Handrails were far from common and did little for cosmetic appeal. She didn't ask and Lauren never said, but she knew in the hollow of her bones that Lauren was the type to consider such things.
From day one, Lauren was comfortable with the fact that Arizona was an amputee. This was something Arizona felt extremely grateful for. The plane crash and her amputation had absolutely nothing to do with Lauren, or their relationship. Nothing! And, Arizona loved the fact Lauren never once gave any indication that there was something Arizona couldn't manage. Her acceptance was an absolute gift. Arizona treasured it and could say with absolute certainty that she was "enough" for Dr. Lauren Boswell, just the way she was.
Arizona didn't consider herself disabled. In fact, she struggled with taking on the identity. It was something she was working on. She could recall, with absolute clarity, the first time someone referred to her as a disabled. The person who did so was an HR specialist with GSM who asked her to participate in a committee that focused on better serving people with disabilities. Arizona was asked to Lead Chair, which infuriated her. She remembered blurting out, "I'm not disabled," before storming off in a fit of rage. She later reached out to the specialist and suggested there might be someone more qualified for the position, but didn't apologize for her refusal.
Noticing Lauren's breathing shift, Arizona followed through with her earlier attempt to climb out of bed. She slid into her prosthetic then padded to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She peed without flushing (as to not wake her lover) then headed toward the kitchen. What she saw along the way caught her off-guard. The view from Lauren's living room was spectacular. So, spectacular it stopped her in her tracks. She must have been a sight to see, standing there motionless, jaw slightly dropped, wearing boy-cut hipsters and a curve-hugging Lambert House T. For a brief second Arizona contemplated God. Natural resources of sheer magnificence like the West North Carolina Range often made Arizona her question whether or not there was some great force that created earth and sky. She was in no way a religious woman; yet deep down inside knew something Divine played a large role in her life and all that surrounded her.
Once the kettle was on, Arizona peaked in on her lover. Lauren's slumber provided an opportunity for uninhibited observation. She stared intently at Lauren's long muscular leg sticking out from under the covers. She then focused on Lauren's long forearm and the hand attached to it. Oh, how she loved her hands. From day one, Arizona was drawn to them. They were the kind of hands that belonged to a surgeon. Long lean tapered fingers, delicate and nimble. And now, as Arizona stood adoring every exposed inch of her lover flesh, she decided the driven craniofacial surgeon was exactly the type of woman she was attracted to. Yes, a little bit thin, but not sickly thin. She had clear muscle definition and a healthy glow.
As the kettle sent off the first warning of a pending screech, Arizona hurriedly answered its call. Luckily, she caught it before it went into a full-fledged shrill. She then spooned a generous amount of Organic French Roast into a glass French Press and stole another glance at her lover. Pleased to find Lauren still asleep, Arizona gathered the press, a cup from the cupboard, sugar and spoon, and a cashmere throw from the couch. She impulsively decided to let Lauren sleep a bit longer and headed outdoors to a stone patio adorned with a canopy and outdoor fireplace.
Curious as to why only three chairs accompanied a four-top, Arizona's searched out the missing member. Spotting it near the edge of the lawn, she went to it and was once again taken aback by the view. She stared in awe at a piece of farmland below that showcased rows of crops following a curve rather than a straight line. The bending lines lured her and brought up images of the Feminine Divine. Next to the chair sat a small table where Arizona deposited her things. She sat down gracefully, wrapped herself in Lauren's throw, and sipped slowly. Images of the love she and Lauren made once again inundate her senses, and just like earlier that morning, her body responded. The body always remembers, she thought to herself. The body always remembers!
Arizona was happy and at ease. It occurred to her that the anger she felt toward Callie less than thirty-six hours earlier had dissipated. In part this was because her Seattle life was literally on the other side of the country, yet something else loomed. For the first time, she saw her anger toward Callie as a culmination of many things, not just one. She wasn't solely angry with Callie for showing up in the middle of the night drunk. Nor was she angry about the amputation as a singular betrayal. Finally, she understood that her anger was caused by a series of frustrations. She did her best to source out the origin and settled on Africa. Sighing audibly, she realized she had never fully let go of her anger toward Callie for not supporting her work in Malawi. As she examined the wound Callie's lack of support caused, another epiphany occurred. Her current situation with Lauren and Syria paralleled Callie's feelings about Malawi. Granted, Syria and Malawi were completely different environments, but the thing that tied them together was fear. Callie, felt fear around the idea of moving to Malawi; fear that she may never carry a child; fear of leaving her family and friends behind; fear of the not knowing what the future might bring; and fear of having to start over in her career once again. And, Arizona felt fear that Lauren would be hurt or killed if she were to take a lead position on a MERC.
Arizona sat with this realization for a long time after she finished her coffee. She did not punish herself for not fully recognizing Callie's fear back then, nor did she castigate herself for making a fear-based decision to break up with Callie at the airport. Instead, she acknowledged her human imperfections and felt grateful that she was capable of learning the lesson fear had to teach her.
Minutes later, the longing for closeness drew Arizona back to Lauren's bed. She headed back to the kettle for another round then placed two cups of steaming fresh coffee on the nightstand beside Lauren's bed. Lightly she touched her lover's face. Her heart skipped a series of beats the instant she saw the morning sun reflecting in Lauren's amber eyes. She planned on bringing up Syria, but only after they shared their favorite beverage. It was a rare occasion when they had a quiet morning with no place to be. Such an indulgence was meant to be savored.
To Be Continued...