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It was something tiny. And it blossomed. Growing second by second. Forming into something Callie had half expected to be lost forever.
A conversation.
“That custard looks disgusting,” Arizona said. Her nose wrinkled like it always did at the sight of something gross and not medically related.
“I can’t believe she’s using roe in it.”
“I don’t think she’s nearly Japanese to pull that off.”
They both winced as the fishy custard was plated.
Arizona’s disgusted face turned to a thoughtful frown. “Why do they even try savory custards? Who sits down and says, ‘You know what? I want a custard that tastes like fish eggs.’ Couldn’t they just stick with sweet and be done with it?”
“Or something less sweet. Like pumpkin.”
“Right. Or yam. A sweet potato can really go either way.”
“And the judge is sniffing it.”
“And the judge is about to vomit.”
“And the judge is—commercial break. Always at the best part!”
Neither woman spoke. Callie’s heart started beating fast. Something like panic scurried through her. She prepared herself. Prepared herself for a swift shift into anger from Arizona. Or sullen silence.
Carefully she looked over at her wife. She was leaning on the couch arm with her foot up on the cushion watching the commercials. The blanket covered her legs and if Callie looked quick enough she couldn’t even notice the residual limb. It was a trick of the fabric and lighting. Arizona twisted a little and the illusion disappeared.
She glanced again up at her face to see if she’d been caught staring. Arizona still stared at the television, her lips pursed in thought and her bangs brushed a little roguishly in front of her face. She was like marble over there. Cold. Passionless. Hauntingly beautiful.
Callie turned away before Arizona could notice the lingering gaze. Or before urges she was doing her damnedest to sequester flared up again.
“Karev came by today.”
That got her glancing over so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. The urge to preemptively defend herself rose.
But Arizona continued, “He asked when I’d be back.”
There wasn’t any anger. For the first time in a long time there was no accusation in her words. They were just gentle. Soft. Fragile.
As fragile as the shaky breath Arizona took. “David says my socket should be here soon. Then we can work on walking.”
She had to be perfectly still. Had to tell her heart to stop beating so loudly or Arizona would hear it. Had to be like a statue or the spell cast might shatter.
“I could be back to work in a few months.”
She couldn’t say anything. Words opened her up to her wife’s ire faster than silence. She’d learned that since the surgery. So they went back to watching the show in silence.
When it ended she started to stand and found Arizona still beside her. Asleep. She never saw her sleeping anymore. Arizona was awake in the morning when she came in and at night when she left. Truth be told she couldn’t remember seeing her wife sleep at all since the amputation. Like she didn’t trust Callie enough to close her eyes around her.
Because the last time she had she’d woken up without a leg.
Afforded an opportunity she hadn’t had in so long Callie quietly knelt and studied her wife’s face. She was surprised to find her own irritation and anger drifted away at the sight of her sleeping wife.
She’d grown exhausted over the last month. There was only so much blame she could shoulder. So many nights of painful silence and mute accusations she could face. Half the time she found herself wanting to give in. To take Sofia and leave Arizona to her misery.
She’d never tell anyone that. It was a desire late at night alone in a bed that wasn’t her own that smelled of a friend she’d lost and only served to remind her of the wife she’d lost as well.
And really, it didn’t even smell like Mark anymore. She’d washed the sheets and dealt with all his clothes and now it smelled more like her own home. She’d wake up in the night reaching out for the warmth of a wife that wasn’t there and her eyes would open and she’d see Mark’s apartment.
She didn’t cry though. There weren’t any tears left. There was only her new life as a celibate caregiver to a woman who hated her and a daughter too confused by events to know what she should be doing beyond crying in the darkness.
But there she was looking at a sleeping Arizona. Her face was slack and gentle. The unconscious frown on her lips would likely be permanent but the constant furrow in her brow disappeared in sleep.
She was struck by the urge to kiss her. Or at the very least reach out and stroke her cheek. Her fingers itched with the desire. But Arizona’s eyes would open. All the anger and hurt would come rushing back and this little moment of reprieve would disappear behind a storm of wrath and despair Callie couldn’t deal with so late at night.
So she kicked her boots off and took the other side of the couch. Slipped her feet deep into the cushions behind Arizona’s back and hugging the throw pillow to her chest.
It wasn’t the same as holding her wife and watching her sleep. But it wasn’t sleeping in a dead man’s bedroom and dreaming nightmares all too real. The warmth of Arizona along her legs. The familiarity of the couch, and her own home. It was, for a night, peace.