Arizona
I didn't know what to do with that. For days and weeks I had chores, I had things to get done. And now Callie was giving me freedom. I looked down at the omelet and picked up a forkful.
I took a bite and flavor exploded in my mouth. "You remembered."
"How could I forget?" Calliope asked. "You're in my dreams."
I took another bite and tentatively sipped my coffee. Callie ate her own breakfast quickly and slipped into jeans and a cami. I watched her as I ate.
Callie opened the closet and stood in front of it, belt in hand, trying to find a top for that day. My mind focused on the belt. The sound of it hitting Callie's leg was amplified in her mind.
A cold sweat broke out over my skin and I found myself out of breath. I shook my head. "No, please, I'm sorry," I whispered. Callie didn't hear me. "Please, I'm sorry; I'll do better next time."
Slowly, Calliope turned. "Arizona?"
"I'm sorry, don't beat me, please. I'll do better next time," I begged, never taking my eyes off the belt. "I'll do better. Don't beat me."
Callie dropped the belt. "Arizona, no one is going to beat you. Least of all me."
"I didn't mean to sleep late."
"You didn't."
"I should have had breakfast ready for you."
"No," Callie climbed onto the bed and cradled my head. "Arizona, you don't have rules and expectations. If you don't wake up and make breakfast. I'm not going to be angry. Nothing you do will make me beat you."
"The belt," I said.
"I'm going to wear it," Calliope said. "That's what you do with a belt. You don't hit people with it."
"That's what they did."
"Is that how your back got torn up?"
I shook my head. "Whip."
Callie was stunned. "A whip?"
I nodded and watched as Callie tried desperately to not freak out.
"Did they use both?"
"They always had one or the other." Callie watched as my defenses fell back into place. Hopefully, I would open up more with the psychologist tomorrow. My first therapy session was the next morning.
"Let me check your back," Calliope said.
I turned and felt as Callie lifted my shirt. The redness and swelling had gone down. Soon Callie would start putting lotion on my back to help the scars not hurt.
"I'm sorry." I say.
"Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for being so ugly."
Callie turns me around to face her. "What?"
"I'm ugly. I'm sorry."
Callie gets visibly angry. "Who told you you were ugly?"
"Penny and Whitney."
Callie turns around, and I can tell she's trying to calm herself down.
Finally, she faces me again.
"Are you going to finish eating or are you done?" she asked softly.
"I'll finish," I said.
Callie watched me take another bite before she got up. Pulling out a shirt at random from the closet, she pulled it over her head and then went into the bathroom to get ready. She had a lot of time. It was only seven. She didn't have to be at the hospital until nine, but she had to drop off the recorder at the police station. She slowly applied her make-up, hiding the bags under her eyes and making herself look pulled together even if she didn't feel that way inside. Stepping back into the bedroom, she downed the rest of her coffee and carried her dishes out into the kitchen.
"Mark is going to come by at noon, okay Arizona?" she called. "You have to let him in. And if the phone rings, I need you to answer it."
"Okay," I responded softly.
"Mark is going to stay with you until I get home this afternoon," Callie informed me. "You'll have fun with him. I'm sorry I have to go to work on your first day home."
"Mark is nice." I say, but Callie heard the hesitation in my voice.
"Is that okay?"
"If that's what you planned then that's okay," I said.
"But how do you feel?" Callie asked.
I looked at her. "Nervous."
"Do you know why?"
"I don't know if I can trust him."
That chilled Callie. Mark was Zona's best friend. Mark had been a part of her life for years. And Arizona was afraid of him. "Mark is your best friend."
"You can't trust anyone."
The automatic response was so scripted. They had made her say these things, over and over. Callie knew that without asking. "Honey, Mark will not hurt you."
"I - I want to believe you," I said. "I do, but right now I can't."
"Let Mark in," Callie told me. She picked up my hand and kissed my skin. "I have to go."
"Okay."
"Just let him in," Callie said. "Do you remember my cell number and my pager number?"
I shook my head, ashamed. Calliope quickly jotted them down for me and left them by the phone. Issuing me one last goodbye, she slipped out the door as she said, "I'll be home soon."
