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Grey’s Anatomy Fanfiction: A Date with Chavela
Genre(s): Romance, Supernatural
Fandom(s): Greys Anatomy
Character(s): Arizona Robbins, Callie Torres
Author Notes: Disclaimer: The main characters belong to Shonda Rhimes and ABC; others are invented by the author. Author’s Note: This is a little tale for any of you who follow Calzona on Grey’s Anatomy. It takes place in season 11 after Callie decides to move on from Arizona. However, in my telling, she has second thoughts and receives help from a few friendly ghosts, including those of George and Mark, but more importantly from the spirit of Chavela Vargas. At her prime, Vargas was one hot butch with black hair and black eyes and so much sex-appeal. It was rumored she carried on a long-time affair with Frida Kahlo and allegedly had many sexual liaisons as well during the 1950s with famous Hollywood starlets who partied in Acapulco’s Champagne Room in the restaurant La Perla. She died in 2012 a grand old dame of the ranchera-style of Mexican ballad. She looked like hell in her later years, but hey, she led a wild life of too much drink and smoking and hot women. Although her looks left her at the end of her life, her voice remains one of those that can charm the panties right off me, and I suspect, a number of other women as well! Of course, Sara Ramirez’s voice is equally seductive, in my opinion.
Callie meets Chavela Vargas and gets advice about love.
Alone in a corner of Bimbos Cantina, Callie Torres sipped her jalapeño infused tequila. The bar was moments from closing, and few patrons remained. By now she was on her third shot, not much really, but she’d already finished off four Pacificos. So she was quite sloshed in that dark corner of the bar she usually didn’t frequent. It was on the other side of town from the Emerald City Bar, Joe’s bar, where most of her chums hung after their shifts at Seattle Grace Hospital. But she was in no mood to socialize either with her close friends, the other attending docs, or with the needy residents and immature interns. No, she needed alone time away from her usual habits, to think through the mess that was her life.
“I should’ve stuck with men,” she muttered to herself. “They’re easy and uncomplicated.”
She sipped her drink, looked into her glass, and shrugged. Enough of this sipping, she thought, and shot the liquor down. The fire in her throat caused her to close her eyes, and she kept them closed a long moment while her head spun around.
“No, Callie,” a voice said. “You see, we aren’t less complicated. We’re less cluttered.”
She opened her eyes to see George sitting across from her.
“What the heck, George.”
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re not saying shit. You’re dead.”
He bobbed his head side to side. “Yeah, but I’m still just saying.”
Callie closed her eyes again. I must be really drunk, she thought. I haven’t hallucinated George in a long time. She peeped one eye open to see him smiling his dopey grin.
“Damn, you’re still here,” she said. She waved to get the bartender’s attention. “Another round?”
“We’re closing in ten minutes,” the barkeep said. “Time for you to catch a cab home.”
Callie groaned while she glared at her ex-husband…her dead ex-husband.
“What do you want, George?” she asked
“Thought you’d like someone to talk to, maybe help you work this thing out with Arizona,” he said.
“Because you’re such an expert on women.”
He shrugged. “I did okay.”
Callie scoffed and dug in her wallet for cab fare. “Sure, if moving from me to Izzie all the while being in love with Meredith and never telling her is considered okay, then, I guess you’re an expert on women.”
She found the fare and got up to leave, looking down at him. “But you can’t understand what’s going on with Arizona and me. You can’t know how I hurt her, how she hurt me, how much resentment is built up. You never resented anyone, George. You were too good of a guy.” She left the bar without turning back.
Outside she gathered her coat around her. It’d rained earlier that evening, and the air was still damp and cool. She walked to the curb and spotted a cab parked across the street. After she whistled and waved, the cab turned and pulled alongside her. She teetered on the side walk and was thankful to slip into the back before she fell prone on the seat. She rattled off her address and closed her eyes for the ride.
“What I meant to say is we really are less cluttered.” George turned around and faced her. He was sitting behind the wheel. “You know, us guys focus on one thing at a time. Women have a dozen things going on all at once.”
Callie stared at him. “How drunk am I?”