"Henry?"
In that one word, spoken over miles of telephone wire, Henry could hear everything.
Panic.
Terror.
Everything he had been refusing to feel for weeks. At least now someone else was feeling it, too.
In some perverse way, that actually made him feel better.
"Hi, Mel."
"Don't 'Hi, Mel' me! What the hell is going on? What do you mean there's something wrong with Shawn? Is he okay? Did he wreck his bike?"
"No, no. Look, I don't want to talk about it on the phone—"
"Well, tough luck! You can't leave me a message like that and then expect me to--"
"Look. Mel. Can you just come down here? Please? I'll explain it when you get—"
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened to my son!"
This was it.
The last straw.
It was just too much like fighting with Shawn, which in and of itself was too much like banging his head against a brick wall.
It all came pouring out of him like boiling, venomous lava.
"He has leukemia! Okay? Are you happy?!"
He hadn't actually spoken that word aloud yet. Like if he didn't say it, it wasn't true.
There was silence on Mel's end.
"What?" She asked finally, her voice suddenly quivering.
"He didn't want you to know. He made me promise…I wouldn't have even called you at all, except…"
"What?"
"Just get down here. Tonight."
"I—"
"For once in your life, just listen to me, Mel."
"I'm coming."