Chapter 4
When he let Wanda step inside the kitchen the next morning, his hands had already removed the note from the locket before the thought had even crossed his mind. Today’s response was written in red ink instead of the usual black, but Charles could tell from the still impressively orderly letters that it was written by the same person.
“well then…” was all it said but Charles knew exactly what it meant by the way the phone number had been circled in red and an exclamation point had been put next to it.
Charles could feel his heartbeat increase. They actually wanted him to call. They didn’t just put it there, they didn’t forget about it, they wanted to speak to him about this situation.
He sighed. He was curious who was behind all of this, sure, but at the same time he enjoyed this little game of anonymous scribblings on a tiny piece of paper too much to give it up for something as businesslike as a phone call. He was afraid that once he heard who would pick up the phone all his fun in this would evaporate and he would have to face the reality that after all this was merely the owner of the cat that kept visiting him.
He had by now positively convinced himself that the Lehnsherr person was a man – he didn’t know why exactly, maybe it was wishful thinking – but he was sure it was in the way the letters were pointed and strong, in the cold responses, in … in … his big imagination and absolute lack of a dating life, that was where that assumption lay. He couldn’t help but feel like part of his aversion to calling the number was the risk of having to face the disappointment of the person turning out to be a woman.
Once again it became painfully clear to him that Raven was absolutely and one hundred percent correct whenever she called him a hopeless romantic. How on earth had he managed to develop an emotional attachment to this silly game of theirs that had simply contained this –very brief and not at all personal – conversation?
He was a pathetic mess indeed. Maybe he should reinstall one of the dating apps onto his phone, they had been a great source of entertainment in the past…
A reproachful whine from Wanda pulled him back to reality. She was sitting in front of him, staring up at him with those emerald eyes of hers.
Of course! He hadn’t fed her yet. “Terribly sorry, love. I don’t know where my mind is these days.” He sighed as he picked up her bowl.
After breakfast, his head was still fully occupied by the thought of having to call the number and he secretly cursed himself for having done most of his work preparations the previous day. Now he couldn’t even pretend to himself that he was too busy to call.
He managed to procrastinate it until the early afternoon by finishing the book he had just started reading and trying to actually cook a meal from scratch for once – the first with considerably more success than the latter. When it was approaching 3pm and he actually found himself considering to iron all of his dress shirts – most of them absolutely free of wrinkles and hanging in his closet – he decided to stop this madness and just get it over with.
“You see, Wanda.” He said to the cat that was curled up on the living room couch. “You see what you are putting me through?” He placed a gentle hand on her back causing her to purr loudly. “You’re damn lucky you are irresistibly adorable and have soft fur.” Wanda opened one eye to gaze at him intently. She looked as if she knew exactly what was going on – and she was judging him for it.
“You’re right.“ reluctantly he got out his phone and looked up the number in his contacts. His finger hovered above the “call” button for a second “whatever.” He mumbled. What could possibly happen?
The seconds of waiting while the number dialed seemed to drag on forever. Charles – his heart figuratively in his mouth – tried to calm himself by closing his eyes. He was about to just hang up – there wasn’t anyone going to pick up obviously, he had been waiting for ages, when suddenly…
“Lehnsherr?” A male voice. No doubt.
“Oh —ah, good afternoon — uhm, my name is… is Charles Xavier, I believe you’re the guy with the cat?” Outstanding eloquence, really.
The voice one the other end chuckled and Charles hated that he liked the sound of it.
“I didn’t know Wanda swam across the Atlantic Ocean every morning”, “Oh – I“ the comment on his british accent caught Charles absolutely off guard.
He wasn’t used to people not knowing of his descent anymore … okay perhaps he didn’t talk to new people enough.
“I don't live in England anymore.” Really? Wow Charles, very informative.
Another chuckle on the other side
“I also didn’t know British people weren’t familiar with the concept of sarcasm,” Deep voice, rather rough, sharp consonants. A shiver ran down Charles’ spine. If this man’s looks had half of what his voice had – Charles was a goner for sure.
“Your voice resembles your handwriting.” Charles burst out. Why did he say that?
“Should I be offended by that?” The man on the other side of the line sounded amused – at least one person was enjoying this shit show. “No – no, you have a beautiful handwriting.” The words had left Charles’ mouth before he had processed their subtext.
“Is that so?” The professor had always taken a smug grin for something one could see, not hear.
“A–anyway. I’m calling because of the cat.”
“I suspected that.”
Charles made a mental note to return his three PhDs at the next convenient moment – his brain capacity barely seemed to exceed that of a kindergartener at this point.
It took them another few minutes of Charles helplessly stammering and Erik – that was his name – audibly enjoying the other man’s misery just a tad too much until they finally got to an actual conversation. Charles had always hated phone calls, ever since his mutation had manifested. Telepathy had become a normal sense to him and talking to someone on the phone without being able to sense their emotions or surface thoughts was like trying to guess the taste of something while having a stuffy nose.
However, eventually he got more comfortable with the situation, coming out of his shell a little when they got to their actual topic of conversation.
He learned that Erik lived in a street that was familiar to Charles and merely about a block away, was of German descent, and had brought his two cats – Peter and Wanda – with him when he had moved to the US six years prior. About a year ago, however, Peter had unfortunately been hit by a car when roaming around and hadn’t survived the accident. Devastated – and concerned for Wanda who had never been without a companion in her life – Erik had adopted a Kitten a few weeks later, hoping it would help Wanda feel better.
At first it had worked out marvelously. The kitten – Lorna – had learned how to hunt for mice from Wanda, they were getting along quite well, everything was getting calm and peaceful again, until all of the sudden, things changed. When Lorna had grown up to be near Wanda’s size, the older cat had refused to stay in the same room as her, had disappeared for longer and longer episodes of time, only dropping by for food, until eventually she didn’t return at all.
“When she came home two days ago it was the first time in three weeks and I must admit I had more or less given up on seeing her again so I decided to give the collar another try. She hates the thing – I know – and she’s gotten rid of all previous ones – but what was I supposed to do?”
“I absolutely understand that.” Charles was glad he had regained his ability to form full sentences: “I don’t know if it helps to know that your street is just a block away.”
“I know.” What? When Charles didn’t reply it was the first time Erik’s confidence appeared to be staggering.
“I – the locket on her collar. I can … track it.”
“You mean like a chip?”
“Yea … well … not exactly.” Erik appeared to take the lack of reply as a demand for explanation. Charles was deeply confused by the change of tone – had he done anything wrong?
“The locket is made from an alloy that’s barely found in household utensils or at least not around here so as long as she doesn’t wander too far I can … feel its atoms.”
Charles gasped.
“I’m a –“, “Metallokinetic.”, “How did you …”, the German sounded absolutely baffled until – once again – his mood slipped into something darker: “listen, if you have a problem with mutants, if you’re some kind of mutantphobic asshole, then this conversation ends right now and I will pull my cat out of your house by her collar if I must.”
Now it was Charles' turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. “Me?”
He couldn’t help but let out a scoff at the absurd accusation. He was so used to interacting with the academic community at NYU that someone not knowing that he was perhaps the top expert on genetic mutation in the country – if not the world – and if nothing else, exactly because of his personal experience as a mutant, was something so absolutely unusual that he needed a moment to gather his words:
“a mutantphobe? Listen, my friend, you got me all wrong, I am a mutant myself – and an expert on the topic, I might add.”
“You are?” Erik was back to sounding absolutely delighted: “Then I apologize for the accusation. I had no idea.”, “it’s alright, I understand you’re being cautious.”, “it’s just – I haven’t met many mutants since I moved here – I haven’t met many mutants, period. And I –“
“You are not alone, Erik.”
“I… I’m sorry, something’s come up. I will have to hang up now.”
Erik’s weird changes of tone were definitely something that took some getting used to… but Charles' heart sank at the other man’s words. As much as he had dreaded to initiate this phone call, the thought of it ending filled Charles with a weird sense of emptiness – were they ever going to talk to each other again?
“I’m glad that Wanda is in good hands when she’s not at home.” Erik’s voice had softened a little: “just … would you text me every now and then to let me see that she’s alright?”
“Uh… of course, yes I can –“
“Good. Thank you very much. Talk to you later.”
Silence.
Charles couldn’t help but feel like he did something wrong. But he didn’t, did he now? He lowered the hand holding the phone and let out a deep, miserable groan that made Wanda get up and cheerfully nudge her head at his side.
All this time he had wanted to just get this over with, and now?
They had gotten along well, hadn’t they? They had laughed a lot. Charles checked his watch. He hadn’t even realized that they had been talking for nearly two hours.
What was he supposed to make of this? And why did the thought of the man’s low chuckle send a shiver down his spine?
No, no, he would not do that. He would not let this get to his head. He was just a lonely fool, and Erik could just as well be some hideous, old creep, who just happened to have a nice voice. He had never even seen the man! Hell, they had only talked to each other because it was necessary. He could be straight for all that he knew! They happened to be emotionally attached to the same cat. Nothing more.