x. dubois
Sunday, she hadn't replied, until Monday, when lo, there was another missed call: and he wasn't taking hers. Tuesday passes, and Lux - well. Let's just fast forward, shall we.
Wednesday. 5:02. Nate calls Lux; hangs up. The sun doesn't set until 7:24. He doesn't get a response from her until around 6. Precision? Fine: 6:10.
A text from X. Dubois that reads: What's up? Or is this the fourth instance of the dreaded butt dial in action?
Nate
Butt dials leave voicemails. Very long, very muffled, very rarely funny voicemails. Nate has left no voicemails and he hasn't taken return calls.
At 6:15 comes the response:
You busy?
x. dubois
6:31.
X. Dubois: Not too busy to text. Might be slow though.
Nate
He does not respond right away. Does not respond within ten minutes. Fifteen minutes go by.
At some point X. Dubois will come to the conclusion that their boy isn't going to respond. Like oh okay never mind then without actually saying that because text is the easiest medium in which to misunderstand each other and it's better to say nothing.
Or maybe he's too busy to text.
x. dubois
X. Dubois won't cascade-text back; won't call. She'll leave it.
Nate
Fast forward to Thursday night.
8:28 p.m. Lux's phone rings.
x. dubois
The call goes to voicemail.
Nate
He might be able to keep up phone tag for the next fifty years or so but Nate has a shelf life. He knows he has a shelf life. Maybe 60 seconds after the death knell of the ring tone the phone tells her she has a message.
Nate's phone voice is normally lazy in the way all confident young men are lazy on the phone. Canned like this he sounds like he's trapped at the bottom of a well and thought it'd be fun to call and see what was going on up at the surface.
"Hey. It's Nate. Uh... haven't talked in a while. Thought it'd..." Breath. "You know. Be prudent. With everything." Long pause. "Okay. See ya."
End of messages. To erase this message, press seven. To save, press nine. To...
x. dubois
The wariness that his message elicits in Lux cannot be over-emphasized.
8:28 he calls.
9:01, she calls him back.
Nate
He picks up this time and doesn't sound any perkier than he did when he left the message but at least she can't hear anyone in the background. No distress in his voice and no strain suggesting he's hiding distress.
"Hello?" he says, like he can't see who's calling when he answers the thing.
x. dubois
"What's up?"
Historically, Lux launches right into the conversation without identifying herself. Less reason to now. Her tone is a question because that's what she's asking.
Nate
"The night I got sick in City Park."
This is going to be one of those conversations.
"Did you just happen to be there, or did I call you?"
x. dubois
Lux sounds...
Hm, what does she sound?
Her response isn't immediate, perhaps because low on her list of things she thought Nathan might want to discuss after the week of phone-tag and their last conversation is: that night he got sick in City Park.
"You didn't call me," she says, like there's a question in it. "I found you. Did something else happen? Did you see your attacker again?"
Nate
When she came to see him the night after the attack Lux had found Nate pale and weak and holding onto a kitten that could not tolerate her presence. He fell over returning the then-nameless baby animal to the ground so she did not hurt herself leaping from his shoulder.
He didn't ask the questions then and now he's asking them and Lux is understandably paranoid.
"Someone else did," he says. "She went on to describe him as being 'hook-nosed,' 'handsome in spite of it,' and 'infuriatingly self-assured.'" A beat. "How do you know him, Lux?"
x. dubois
"Know who? A hook-nosed guy?"
"Wait, someone else did? Are they okay?"
Nate
"She's an ER nurse."
Non sequitur, ho!
"How do you know him, Lux?"
x. dubois
She's an ER nurse. "And?"
And then: He repeats that question.
He can hear her take a breath, not to speak, but just because: hear the sound of it recede from the receiver, so he won't hear the final cut of the sigh. This is not a sigh of longing; this is a sigh of anger, or frustration, or - something she is restraining.
Of course. Flood. Fucking Flood. Lux says,
"Your attacker."
Then - " - you really want to know? We met at a party."
Nate
That's the thing: he doesn't really want to know. If she's picked up any common threads of the narratives involving his formative years it's been that most of the things he did before he joined the Marines he did because some authority figure in his life would not approve. The Marines have a way of beating the standoffishness out of young people. This is not a rebellious act. He doesn't want to know but he's finding out anyway because he wants to stay the fuck alive.
He has a kitten to raise, dammit.
"Did this party take place after sundown?"
By this point he just sounds weary, like he sees no point even haranguing her like this but he's doing it anyway because he's lost way too much sleep the last several months.
x. dubois
"Most parties do. Nathan, seriously: what the fuck happened?"
Nate
"What happened," he says, "is a woman I thought was actually somewhat sane compared to the last one who told me vampires are real felt the need to tell me this fellow we've both encountered while minding our own business after sundown wasn't breathing, didn't have a pulse, and inspired her to spend many many hours reading books - this is a medical professional, by the way - reading books, and after all the reading and the however-many minutes she's spent with our mutual acquaintance she believes it's entirely possible for a person to not show any signs of life and still... function."
"Now I'm not saying it is or isn't possible. All I'm saying is - what the hell is up with the people in this city that this is a recurring... thing with people I meet in bars?"
x. dubois
Quiet.
If he's listening, he can hear another indrawn breath, but fainter; like she's once again moving away from the receiver, shifting, shiftless. Where-ever she is, whatever she's doing.
But she comes back to say, softly: "Vampires are very 'in' right now and there are plenty of idiot medical professionals." Pause. "Although ... well, who's to say what does exist and does not exist, really. I mean... You know that, don't you?"
Nate
"I also know what would happen if I were to tell my therapist I hear dead people."
x. dubois
Lux is quiet. At least for a space -- long enough for him to say something else or feel the need to say something else or expand or who-knows.
Nate
And that quiet stretches out until he has to do something with it. He got what he didn't want out of this conversation. His sigh batters the connection the moment he decides to leave her alone.
"Can't go complicating things by seeing them, too, right?" A long enough pause for the tonal shift before the end of a conversation to register but not enough time for her to interject. "Take care of yourself, Lux."
x. dubois
"Nathan, wait."
Nate
Nathan, wait.
The light on her phone doesn't flash to indicate he's hung up. She doesn't hear the stutter of a broken connection. But he doesn't speak.
x. dubois
He doesn't appear to have hung-up.
Lux listens for a moment.
Then says, ruefully, "Just didn't seem like a fitting place for the conversation to end. If I call you later, will you answer?"
He has a space to say something; or to hang up.
But she also says, "Just stay away from that guy if you see him again, huh?"
Nate
She asks if he'll answer and he doesn't hang up.
He says, sounding tired still but not angry or impatient, not frustrated or fearing for his sanity: "Of course."
Her last question doesn't sound like much of a question at all but more of a request or a suggestion and Nate does not pause to consider his options.
"I'll try."
x. dubois
"Good." Pause. And " - 'night."
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