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I didn't mean to stay out so long. It just sort of happened. One minute I was running out into the night, trying not to cry, that high-pitched relentless cry that so many find grating and creepy. Then I plunged myself into foxness, and ate and slept and ran and rested and hid, and hunted some more. When I came back to myself, with a little shake, and realized I'd missed at least one day of work (since it was night again, and had been day at least once since I shifted), I could hardly even feel concern. I licked my paws a little more, trying to get them extra clean.
Perhaps I should at least shift back so I could call in. I could take off from work and come right back here, I decided, surveying my current domain: the tall grasses that swayed at my eye level; the pleasant rolling land of the meadow; the myriad of tiny noises from birds, insects, and rodents; and the trees shushing and singing nearby. Sometimes, if I listened closely, I could hear the plants taking up water, the way they drew it in thirstily for their nourishment. The whole world sang and danced and turned as one, if you listened hard enough. I'd been listening quite hard.
I can come right back, I told myself. But my heart sank with a heavy feeling at the thought. It really wasn't right to leave without saying anything. And despite what I'd planned, I hadn't thought about that guy at all.
That guy. The one I was having sex with and used to like so much. I couldn't quite think of his name when I was a fox. It was complicated now. Last time I'd been a fox I'd thought of him as almost-my-mate. Now he was: guy I have sex with. And thinking about him made me sad.
So I stopped. I stopped thinking about him again, and went to get another vole.
By the time I thought about work again another day had passed. This time, I finally made myself go back and shift and shower and call in.
It ached to be a human. Some of it was not wanting to go back yet, but a lot of it was Jon. I remembered his name now. And I still didn't want to think about him. I called in, apologized profusely, and asked to take the rest of the week off. They said yes eventually.
I didn't look at or answer any of Jon's texts. Then I turned my phone off (the battery was getting pretty low), and shifted again. I wasn't going back, not today, not for a long time, and I definitely wasn't thinking about not-my-mate, either.
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It was good to be a fox. It was good to forget human things and focus on the present, the details of beauty and life and living. No more what-ifs and speculation and pain. Just life, in all its beautiful quiet strength.
Mostly, I didn't think. I was always about thinking in my day-to-day life. I was at my best when I had some complicated paperwork to accomplish. I relaxed by binge-reading books. I also, perhaps, had the tendency to overanalyze things. But now...I just wanted to not think for a while. And I didn't even analyze it.
I kept track of the days better this time. Even though they had a tendency to bleed from one into the next, it really wasn't terribly hard to keep track of. I didn't overshoot my deadline. In fact, I shifted back a day early so I'd have time to make the adjustment. I showered, changed into some very wrinkled clothes, and drove home, charging my dead cell phone in the car on the way.
Apparently, I'd gotten a lot of missed calls and increasingly frustrated texts from Jon. It didn't hurt as much to think about him now, so I read through them all when I got home. Some were just worried. Some were apologetic. A few times he'd gotten out the shouty capital letters to let me know just what he thought of my dropping out of contact.
At the end of them I sighed, already tired. I could tell him that I'd been away from my phone, and it was true, but I also definitely didn't want to talk, and I didn't want accusations flung at me, either.
How very rude of him.
But it had been rather rude of me not to say where I was going, too. I hadn't, in case he got it into his head to come and find me and force me to talk to him. Jon had all the tact of a buffalo, and it would've been horrible if he'd tried to find me in the park — and succeeded.
I was exhausted already with analyzing things. Sighing, before I could change my mind, I hit the call button and waited while it rang.
"Hello?" said Jon. "Avery? Is that actually you now?"
"You know it is," I told him.
"Not dead, then," he said sarcastically.
I winced. Yes, he was pretty angry. "I'm not dead. Please stop calling and texting me. I needed some time alone, and I took it."
Jon drew a sharp breath. "Sure. Yeah. You know, you could've had the decency to break up with me properly, not just walk off and stop answering your fucking phone."
"I said I needed some time. If that's not good enough for you, it's too damned bad."
"Well, it's not good enough. What's wrong with you, Wallace?" His voice cracked. "I've worked really hard to be a — a partner to you, and as soon as I make one mistake, you drop me like a hot...like a hot…"
"Cop?" I offered, trying not to smile.
He blew out his breath. "Damn it, that's not good enough. For all I could've known, you ran off and killed yourself. People don't just drop off the face of the earth like that!"
"Shifters do. I needed space. And frankly, I'm not sure I owe you any explanations at all."
Silence.
There, no more beating around the bush. My heart sank a little. Maybe I could've pretended it wasn't about him if I'd tried… No. We both knew it was about him. Aboutus.
