Merry had played the message over and over. He couldn’t even guess how many times, now. Just like he couldn’t’ve guessed what hearing Pippin’s voice would do to him.
He didn’t cry. Nor did he get angry. It was just as though a great, aching, empty chasm had opened up inside of him, demanding to be filled with what had been lost.
He’d never meant to drive Pippin away. Get angry, yell, hurt him--Merry admitted he’d wanted to hurt Pippin, as badly as Pippin had hurt him--but not to drive the young man away. Not to force him out of his life.
But he had.
And Pippin had been the one to find his courage first, to call Merry. The first to reach out. And now Merry was reaching back.
He dialed Pippin’s cell, was surprised when it only rang once.
“Hello?” Pippin’s voice, a little breathless.
“Hey. It’s Merry.” Merry cradled the phone against his shoulder, pouring himself a cup of coffee, adding plenty of cream. A treat, for growing some cojones and phoning Pippin back.
“Hey Merry. Um. You got my message?”
Merry tried not to wince at the uncertainty and, yes, the pain in Pippin’s voice.
“Yeah. How ‘bout we meet for coffee, is Au Bon Pain good for you?”
He could almost hear the shy smile in Pippin’s voice. “Yeah. Um. How about…about tomorrow?”
Merry bit his lip. He really couldn’t, not then. Not when he’d just started teaching. “I’m sorry, that’s, um, really bad for me, I have class all day, summer classes I’m teaching. How about Wednesday?”
“Oh.” Pippin’s voice was soft, sad, and Merry realized that he hadn’t told Pippin he was teaching this summer. “Yeah. Wednesday around two?”
“Yeah,” Merry tried to make his voice warm. “It’ll be good to see you.”
“You too,” Pippin said softly, and Merry could hear tears in his voice. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Merry said softly, and hung up, wondering if this was a second chance, or the final break.