Chapter 5
As difficult as it was for him to do so, Don didn't press Charlie for details that evening. He simply stopped at the pharmacy long enough to fill the prescription, and took Charlie home. When he pried the remainder of the papers the doctor had given him out of Charlie's hand, he found the referral information for the next afternoon. With Alan and Charlie both standing in the kitchen with him, Don flipped his cell phone and speed-dialed Megan.
"It's Don," he said when she answered. "I need to take a personal day tomorrow. Can you handle things for me? I'll explain . . ." he looked hesitantly at Charlie, who Alan had guided into a chair, and finished, " . . . later. Yes, I'm fine, Megan, I don't need anything. Thanks for asking, and for covering for me. I'll talk to you soon."
Don clicked the cell phone shut and sat at the table opposite Charlie. Then he got up again, and pulled the bottle of antibiotics from his jacket pocket. Alan quickly filled a glass with water, and handed it to Don. Sitting down again, Don hesitantly touched Charlie's hand. Charlie looked at him, and the stunned confusion in his eyes nearly broke Don's concentration — and his heart. Focusing on Charlie's hands, Don took one in his and dropped a pill into it. "Here," he said. "You need to take this now." Charlie studied the pill for a moment, and then obediently popped it into his mouth, washing it down with a gulp of the water Don had ready for him. Then he looked at Don for more instructions. He couldn't seem to think of anything to do himself, a realization which annoyed him, but didn't frighten him. Not as long as Don was here. Don would know what to do.
"Do you want to take a shower now?" Don asked. "Maybe go to bed early?"
"Wait," Alan interrupted. "I made soup. I'll heat some up while you take a hot shower, Charlie. Come down and eat with us before you go to bed."
Charlie raised a hand to rub his temple. He didn't understand why everything sounded like a radio not quite on the station. Static-y. He looked up at Alan, then across the table at Don. "What?" he said, wondering if he was getting laryngitis. His voice didn't sound right.
Don stood, grabbing Charlie's arm to encourage him to get up as well. "Shower," he said. "You're going to take a hot shower now."
"Good idea," answered Charlie, as they headed for the stairs. "I'm a little cold."
Alan turned toward the stove and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. No one had to tell him what the test results were. He had seen this kind of shock before. Hell, he had felt this kind of shock before, when his beloved Margaret was diagnosed with the cancer that eventually killed her. He wasn't sure he could do this again.
Don guided Charlie up the stairs, and once in the bathroom, Charlie seemed to figure out the shower all by himself. He turned it on, looked in the mirror for a moment and then turned to Don, who was still hovering in the doorway. "It's all right," he said, actually smiling at Don a little. "I can do this part."
Don smiled back. "I know you can, Charlie. Come downstairs when you're finished."
Don closed the door, turned and leaned heavily against it. He closed his eyes and tried to make his mind blank. After a minute, he walked toward the stairs. He flipped his cell open again and called Larry. He explained that Charlie would not be in the next day, and asked Larry to notify whoever he had to at the university in order to get Charlie's classes covered. Larry was concerned, and wanted details, but Don found himself unable to tell him much. "I'm sorry, Larry," he said, "I really can't talk now. We'll all talk soon, okay? In fact, I may call again and ask you to come to the house sometime this weekend."
"Of course, Don," Larry answered. "Just let me know what I can do."
"Thanks, Larry," sighed Don. He flipped the cell shut as he hit the last stair and turned into the kitchen. His father was seated at the table, but his eyes looked into the dining room. Don followed his gaze, and saw that his father was looking at a picture of his mother, one of the last taken while she was still healthy. In it, she was standing with Charlie beside the koi pond in the back yard. Charlie was pointing at something, and they both were laughing, unaware of the camera. They looked…happy. Don forced his eyes away, as if he were looking at something he shouldn't, and joined his father at the table. He picked up one of the brochures Charlie had brought home. "All right," he thought, opening it. "Rule Number One: Know Your Enemy."
