if things don’t work out, you can always come home.
Turning her phone back online has multiple effects. For one, it brings Tony to the place quick as a quip. For another, it brings her physical relief, for all that her heart still aches. There are bandages and salves across her right side, and enough time for the painkillers he’d gotten her to pop.
But later – when her brother has to return to his meeting, leaving the Iron Man suit there with a flat stare and a don’t go anywhere – later, when she finds sleep hard to reach with the ever present fear that’s made itself a home in her marrow – she turns to her phone.
And she finds his voice messages.
Hey! Haven’t seen you around a while, and you’re not replying to my texts. Thought I might reach you like this, though that’s – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you reply to a voice mail in – are you cheating on me.
There’s ten. Twenty. Julie doesn’t know. She could count them, but hearing his voice again – it arrests her, somehow. It opens up a chasm in her lungs, something missing and missing for a while.
I’m at the wedding you promised you’d play with me, and there’s people with no feet AGAIN. AGAIN, Julie. This is why we can’t have nice things. Do you even –
Getting kind of desperate, because nobody’s seen you. Will you hate me if I file a missing person’s report? I don’t care. I’ll do it.
This is for yoooooou, Shield Maiden! [a clip of him absolutely crushing it at karaoke]
Julie. I talked to your brother. You have to get out of there. You don’t understand – Tao, he –
Hope you’re safe. Saw a geyser on the t.v. today. Your doing?
Just so you know, the blue M&M faction won today – those fucking bastards, sneaking out the victory before mine own eyes –
They play for what feels like years. The sun dips below the horizon but she makes no effort to turn the lights on, watching each clip fizzle out to silence and then switch, robotic, to the next. And the next. And the last. It’s from two months ago – the longest pause between messages.
Julie, I – [there’s a long pause, a sigh.] I care about you. And – If things don’t work out, you can always come home.
And she sits in silence.
Tears have made her blankets one stage past damp, but she doesn’t brush them away. Doesn’t make any sound. Her fingers twitch, and move – and that’s when she starts crying for real, when she’s scrolling to his contact and, after a long pause – hitting call.
