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Shy
by Nicola
Rating: PG
Spoilers: #3.22, 'Where the Heart Is'
Ephram had locked himself in one of the stalls in a gas station bathroom. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, except that it was somewhere in central Spain. The bus had stopped and he'd gotten off; it had seemed like an impulsive thing to do—poetic, even. Except now he was stuck in some good-for-nothing one-horse-town and was being harassed by a squinty-eyed Spaniard. Ephram's high school Spanish had officially failed him, but his best guess was that the guy either wanted to give him a blowjob—or cut him open and eat his entrails for dinner. The bathroom had been his nearest getaway, although all things considered, perhaps it wasn't the best place to be hiding out.
Ephram sighed and bent down to retrieve his cell phone from his pocket. He tried to dial a number and was greeted by static. He redialed and this time it began to ring on the other end. He didn't know how much it must cost to call the US from his cell phone, but his dad picked up the bill, so he wasn't going to spend too many hours crying over it.
"Abbott house of loooove," Bright growled into Ephram's ear. Hannah's shrill laughter formed a counterpoint.
"Hey, it's me," Ephram replied.
There was a brief scuffle—"Yo, it's Ephram," he heard Bright explaining in a muffled tone. Then, more clearly: "What's up, dude?"
"Not much," Ephram said, shifting his shoulders pointlessly into a shrug. Using his thumbnail, he scraped at a piece of graffiti on the bathroom wall, feeling inexplicably depressed that he couldn't read what it said.
"Where are you, anyway?"
Before Ephram had a chance to reply, a minor spat broke out at the other end. He listened as Hannah chastised Bright for burning the spaghetti sauce, before the entire conversation descended into laughter and the smacking noises of kisses playfully evaded.
"I'm in Spain," Ephram said loudly.
"No shit," Bright said after a moment. "What are you doing there?"
Ephram glanced around him. "I'm finding myself," he muttered. There was a burst of static and his words were lost.
"What?" came Bright's reply.
"I'm FINDING MYSELF," Ephram yelled. He rolled his eyes as Bright broke down into hysterical laughter.
"That's great, man," Bright choked out. "Really great." Faintly, in the background, Ephram heard Bright add, "he's finding himself."
"I know, I heard," Hannah told Bright. Briefly, her voice was amplified as she apparently brought her mouth close to the receiver. "Good for you, Ephram!"
"Yeah, thanks," Ephram said gloomily.
Bright reclaimed the phone. "What she said, man." Ephram could hear the tint of laughter that remained in his voice.
"You been spending a lot of time with Hannah, huh?" Ephram asked. "You two getting on well?"
"Oh sure. We're busy planning the wedding."
Ephram could imagine the look Bright was shooting Hannah. He laughed morosely.
"We are not!" cried Hannah, through her laughter.
"I think she's leaning toward the Elvis chapel in Vegas," Bright continued, as Hannah's laughter redoubled.
"Well, you guys have fun," Ephram said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I have to go," he added, although he couldn't actually think of anything less true.
"Call again soon, okay?" Bright said. His voice was suddenly absolutely neutral—unreadable.
"Yeah . . . yeah," Ephram said in a low voice. He could feel the words sticking in his throat. "Hey—" he added suddenly. "I miss you."
"What? Didn't hear. This line sucks."
"Never mind," Ephram muttered.
There was another flurry of movement in the Abbott house. The doorbell rang and Hannah hurried off to answer it. Ephram heard a door close.
Bright's voice: "You still there?"
"Yeah. But I gotta go . . ."
"Okay. Goodbye, amigo!" Bright said with a joviality that seemed forced.
"Bye."
A moment before Ephram lowered the phone, he heard Bright's final words. A low, sloppy, "I miss you, too." And then—click.
August 2005
Note: for zeelee
Muse music: 'Shy' by Ani DiFranco
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