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“Is everything a game to you, Callie?” Michelle asked. She didn’t only look exhausted, let on the verge of a nervous breakdown by a case that hadn’t even supposed to be hers in the first place, but which became hers, in a way she hadn’t planned, breaking her along the way; she looked disappointed too. But it was that tired disappointment, the one draining the few strength that was holding you in one piece. It was that weary resignation that left someone empty, mechanically going through the days and forgetting to live them.
And it struck Callie for the first time: she hadn’t only lost a lover, she had lost her friend. For good. There was no turning back in their relationship. Michelle was left exhausted, not strong enough to even break under the weight of emotions. Michelle was left empty; with no other feeling than emptiness. And Callie was seeing it for the first time.
And Callie had just lost her case. And the realisation hit her harder than she was capable of handling. She had lost Michelle. Callie could have said something. She could even have begged, asked Michelle to forgive her, pleaded for a second chance. She could have cried. But Callie suddenly felt scared of her own emotions. Sadness wasn’t for her. Sorrow and apologies weren’t hers to bear. Callie Senate was strong and had no weakness. It was her only truth in a world full of unexpected. And her truth was being shaken by the meaningful realisation that losing a case meant very little to her, when she was also losing Michelle.
And it wasn’t a fact Callie was happy to live with. So she did what she always did. She acted the only way she knew how. She kept playing.
“And you don’t play games, Michelle”.
And she knew the moment the words crossed her lips, she had lost her forever. Had she apologized, perhaps Michelle would have considered giving them another chance. Callie read it on her former friend’s face before she even answered. It was over. After decades of friendship, after months of blurred lines, after finally crossing the line, after loving each other, everything was over. It had only taken the blink of an eye, of Michelle’s eye, and they were now nothing for the other.
And Callie’s voice showed just how much she cared. If her attitude was unchanged, her voice had been kept low. Louder, it would have broken.
Michelle stared in silence, her palms pressed against Cooperman’s desk. She was grateful she had something to lean on. She felt something break inside of her. She felt an ache in her belly. That pain that causes you to bend slightly and stumble backward. Michelle didn’t believe that emotions made someone weak. She didn’t believe that emotions had to be hidden at all cost. Because emotions seen as weakness was exactly the thing that had cost her the woman she had loved. And the woman she probably still loved because when Michelle loved it was with her whole being. She knew it would take time to recover from the pain. She knew she would always be wounded by the ghost of Callie’s love.
But Michelle also knew she was doing what was right for her. She couldn’t tolerate being used. She couldn’t tolerate being a pawn in a game she didn’t know the rules. When Michelle loved, it was sincere and deep. There was no room for games in love. Because games only led to pain.
So Michelle whispered “no,” and she shook her head slightly, trying to swallow back her tears as discreetly as possible. She looked right into Callie’s eyes. She watched her face closely and she couldn’t tell if she was trying to memorise everything about her, knowing they would never meet again, or if she was trying to read something into the piercing blue eyes.
But Callie’s face was blank. She should have seen that coming. And she had, in a way. She knew just how Michelle was despising her. And she would never admit it but it hurt her to know the woman she loved felt nothing but despise towards her. A painful despise perhaps, achingly tangled with remains of love and friendship. A newfound hatred too heavy to bear, slowly taking over Michelle’s heart, breaking into pieces what was left of their long shared intimacy.
And with a quick glance focused on Michelle’s eyes, Callie could see the conflicted emotions boiling in the woman standing there. And she felt the pain she had inflicted to her. Her throat tightened and she knew she had to leave. She knew she needed to step backward and disappeared into the elevator without looking back. Michelle deserved it. Staying longer would only bring them more pain. And for once, Callie didn’t care about her own desire. She wanted to stay. She wanted to close that distance between them. But it wouldn’t be fair. It would cause Michelle too much pain. And she loved Michelle enough not to burden her anymore.
So with one last pointed look, with the desperate will to freeze the image of Michelle in her mind, she turned her back to the woman she would never see again. She stepped into the elevator. She didn’t turn back. She didn’t steal one last glance because she knew it would have had disastrous consequences. Even more than it already did.
“My feelings for you weren’t a part of the game,” Callie managed to speak loud enough for Michelle to hear it. To hear what she wanted to say and to hear the sorrow in her tone.
The doors closed on Callie and Michelle was standing alone in an office she was so desperate to flee and never come back. She fell on the chair and buried her head in her hands. Perhaps it would have been easier to convince herself Callie had never truly loved her. But it wouldn’t be fair to their relationship. They had meant too much for the other, Michelle couldn’t close her heart on that. She couldn’t forget how good it had felt before it went messy.
And perhaps for now, the knowledge that she had sincerely been loved was weighing her heart. Perhaps for now it only made her feel more miserable. But she knew it would one day mean a lot. Michelle knew it would one day be the key to her healing. And Callie wanted nothing more than easing the pain of the woman she had loved in silence for years.