Coming of Age
HEY
The three letters appearing on the screen of his cell phone were innocent enough, and yet, for reasons that he didn't entirely understand, they raised Spencer Reid's antennae. The text was obviously from his older godson, which wasn't all that unusual. They'd certainly exchanged messages many times in the past, even if those messages had become increasingly, and regrettably, sparse over time.
And now, so have the number of words. 'Hey'?
His antennae wanted to be worried, but then he reminded them that the three letters had been sent by a teenager, and one who'd gained that title more than a year ago. As a dutiful godfather, Reid had done a LOT of reading about teenagers, which was why he hadn't been all that surprised when Henry's communications had tapered, and how he knew not to be over-eager in his response. So he spent a long moment debating before deciding to respond in kind. Sort of.
HENRY? HI.
HI!
Okay, we went down a letter but acquired a punctuation mark. That's progress, isn't it?
Reid smiled to himself. Considering that the younger Henry had nearly always spoken in exclamation points, his reversion to texting with one was comforting, and Reid was able to shush his antennae once again.
HI. HOW ARE YOU?
GOOD.
Most of their prior text conversations had taken place around some special occasion like a birthday or a sports victory, something that held excitement at its core. This conversation had come completely unexpectedly and, as far as Reid knew, unattached to any particular stimulus.
Maybe that's why he sounds subdued. If one word can sound subdued. Or maybe he really is just being a teenager.
But those pesky antennae wouldn't leave him alone, and it was Henry, and he never wanted anything to trouble Henry, or his brother, or their mother, even if he hadn't spoken or even texted with JJ in forever, and even if he thought she thought he thought it would better that way, even if he didn't really think it, or maybe he did, or maybe she did, and now he couldn't even remember which of them had sent the last text, and….
The phone vibrated in his hand once again, pulling him from his circular reverie. Faced with the need to answer, he decided to chance a direct approach.
WHAT'S GOING ON?
Long pause.
NOTHING.
Right. Nothing. Now you have me worried. Maybe my antennae were right after all.
HENRY, ARE YOU OKAY?
FINE.
WHAT ABOUT MICHAEL?
FINE.
Reid always preferred talking to texting, but at least texting gave him some grace time to think. The next logical question would have to be about JJ and Will, and he was just a little hesitant to go there. But it was Henry. And he loved Henry. And even If it was none of his business, if something affected Henry, he should probably know about it, right? So…
HOW ARE YOUR PARENTS?
Another long pause. Then..
DO YOU KNOW WHAT AN ONCOLOGIST IS? NEVER MIND. OF COURSE YOU DO. YOU'RE A GENIUS.
Oncologist?!
HENRY, CAN I JUST CALL YOU?
The fact that Henry's response was to make the call himself told Reid how badly his godson needed to talk to him. He tapped on the beckoning phone app.
"Henry? Hi."
"Hi, Uncle Spence."
The once and future profiler did all he could with the three words and the tone in which they'd been spoken, while simultaneously trying to tamp down his own anxiety over the word Henry had used. He could only conclude that one or both of them was terrified.
"Henry, what's going on? Why are you asking about an oncologist?"
"I just….I wondered if people need to see an oncologist if they don't have cancer."
"You…."
Henry spoke right over him. "I looked it up, and all I found was that an oncologist is a doctor who treats cancer."
"Henry…Henry, why were you looking it up? Who is seeing an oncologist?"
Not sure who he should pray it would be, or wouldn't be, because there were no good choices here.
"My dad." Henry had practically sobbed the words. No need for profiling now.
"Your dad? Your dad is sick?"
Immediately running the permutations of possible outcomes, and the fallout for JJ and the boys, without even knowing what type of cancer it might be, or if it was even cancer at all. Experiencing the innately human need to attempt to control the uncontrollable.
"I don't know. They're not telling me."
Reid was confused. "They're not telling you….then how do you know?"
"I heard them talking. Dad told Mom that his test results were good, and….."
Reid released a pent up breath. Maybe it was just a scare.
"…and he said he didn't need to have any more tests for six months."
Maybe not a scare. Who needs to follow up on normal results?
"How did the word 'oncologist' come up, Henry?"
"I asked my mom if my dad was all right, and she said he was. I even made her promise that she was telling the truth, and she said she was, but I could tell that she wasn't. There are a lot of times she doesn't tell me the truth, because she thinks she's protecting me. She thinks I'm still a little kid. But I'm not, Uncle Spence!"
His tone infused with anger and resentment...and fear.
Reid had long realized that a day like this would come, even that a conversation like this would have to take place at some point. A confrontation between protection and truth. He'd known his godsons would one day begin to realize the dangerous nature of what their parents did for a living, and ask difficult questions. He just hadn't expected the first difficult questions to have nothing to do with their occupations.
Having had his own experience of JJ withholding the truth from him, on more than one occasion and, in some ways, for similar reasons, Reid sympathized with his godson. But he also sympathized with JJ. After all, he had his own history of protecting the boys by carefully avoiding conversations that shouldn't be overheard by young ears, and purposely not visiting whenever he was visibly injured. Or psychically injured. Especially then.
Nothing he'd read in any of his research into adolescence had given Reid the wisdom to identify the exact moment when a teen might be ready to process difficult information. He had especially not learned how to tell a teen that, yes, his parents had been lying to him right along. As had his godfather. As best Reid could tell in the moment, such wisdom was not to be found in the printed word. Mostly it seemed to rely on supernatural resources, which meant a lot of praying was involved.
So Reid dutifully threw his eyes briefly upward, heaved a breath, and dove in.
"Henry, we both know your mom loves you, and would never want to hurt you. If she's ever held anything back, I'm sure she just wanted to save you from worrying."
"But she didn't save me, Uncle Spence! After she promised she was telling me the truth, I looked up the name of the doctor I heard my dad say he'd gone to, and it said she was an oncologist."
Will is seeing an oncologist. Henry is terrified. JJ must be as well.
Not that she would ever have let anyone see it. Even if Reid had still been with the BAU, she might not have told him about this. The JJ he'd known and loved, and been mothered by, and sometimes frustrated by, had more than once withheld information from him, and even lied to his face, mostly so she herself could avoid dealing with whatever unpleasant reality needed to be dealt with. In the time they'd been separated, both emotionally and geographically, he wondered if she'd begun to rely on any of her other friendships for support. Even if he knew theirs had been unique, he hoped she had nurtured another.
Maybe Emily. She's probably closer with Garcia, but there's too much Penelope can't handle. I just hope she has someone.
He knew she had Will, but he also knew there were things she hadn't shared even with her husband. Now, with Will being at the center of her concern, she wouldn't want to burden him with her own fears.
If there's even anything really to be concerned about.
Which reminded him of how this conversation had begun.
"Henry, didn't you say that your dad told your mom he was fine? That he just needs some repeat tests? Maybe he just saw the oncologist to make sure it isn't cancer."
Hoping to reassure his godson even as he moved over to his laptop to start his own research. "By the way, do you remember the name of the doctor?"
"Dr. Emma Harvey. I don't know why, but I keep going back to her page. I don't even know what I'm looking for."
Reid laid the phone down as he typed, thankful that they hadn't chosen a video call.
"You're looking for an answer that you don't have. It's perfectly natural."
Reid looked at his laptop screen, also seeking an answer. Dr. Emma Harvey, who specialized in thoracic oncology, medical oncology and benign hematology.
Who needs to specialize in a benign condition?
"Henry, has your dad been having any symptoms that you've noticed? Has he not been feeling well?"
"That's the thing, Uncle Spence. He's been fine, as far as I know."
"Has he lost weight, or been unusually tired, or lost his appetite? Anything?"
Launching into diagnostic mode, prepared to solve the puzzle of whatever might be ailing Will…and, in the process, briefly losing sight of the actual responsibility of godfatherhood. A sniffle from the other end of the call brought him back.
Let someone else solve the puzzle until you're asked, Genius. Right now, your godson needs to feel like he's not alone.
Henry answered Reid's last set of questions. "None of those things. He hasn't been sick at all. Uncle Spence, do you think my dad has cancer?"
Still sniffling, and although Henry wasn't quite openly crying, Reid didn't need a video link to know how close he was. He launched another glance skyward.
"I don't know of any cancer that wouldn't require treatment, Henry. So if your dad isn't taking any medicines or having any procedures done, then maybe the doctor is just being cautious by seeing him again in six months."
"Really?" Sounding just a tinge more hopeful than before. "I mean, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"
Even if the other formerly-trusted adults in his life might not.
The conversation had landed at a point of crisis, a crucible of sorts, in their relationship. Henry clearly felt isolated by untruth, frightened by an ominous unknown, and unable to find a way to alter his situation. In that moment, and in those circumstances, his godfather felt a fathomless bond. Reid could well remember the ominous unknowns from his own boyhood, the longing for adult guidance in the care of his mentally ill mother, the isolation and helplessness in not being able to reach out without betraying her trust. He was not about to abandon the not-so-little boy he loved to the same kind of experience.
This time he didn't even need a skyward glance. He knew what to say.
"Henry, I promise you that I will never lie to you. You're right, you're old enough to know a lot of things, and I'll tell you whatever I can. But I want you to think about something. Will you?"
"Okay."
"Okay. Well, I want you to think about how much you've changed in the last three years. How much you've grown, and how you look at things differently now, from before. I'm going to ask you to believe me when I tell you that you will continue to change a lot in the next three years. You'll continue to grow, and how you think about things will continue to change. So there may be things that are hard to accept or understand, or even to hear, right now, that will be a little easier for you as you get older."
Not that there aren't a thousand things I still don't understand. Or maybe a million.
"But you'll still tell me?" Insistent, and not at all convinced that fourteen years weren't sufficient to deal with all of the intricacies of the world.
"I will tell you what I know. Which, right now, is nothing. Not about your dad, anyway."
Henry chewed on that for a minute. "Will you talk with my mom?"
"I….. I don't know. It might not be possible. Or even a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because it sounds like your parents would like to keep things private right now."
And besides, I haven't talked with your mom in a very long time. Although, maybe I need to.
"So what do I do?"
What does a son do when a mother can't or won't confront her demons? Reid knew.
He runs interference.
"Just be yourself. Your best self. Help out around the house. Do things without being asked. Do things with Mikey." Which made him think to ask. "Does Michael know there's something wrong?"
"No. I didn't say anything to him. He's too little."
Wisdom arrived in those words, and this time Reid's prayer was one of thanks.
"Did you hear what you just said?"
"That Mikey's too little? He is!"
"And so, you made a decision not to unnecessarily worry him, since you're not sure what's going on. Right?"
"Yeah. Oh."
"Exactly. Try not to be too hard on your mom, okay? Whatever she tells you or doesn't tell you, is because she loves you. Even if it doesn't feel like it. I can promise you that." From personal experience.
After a long pause, Reid heard a sigh that managed to be simultaneously grudging and sincere.
"Okay, I guess." But not quite willing to let it go at that. There was so much more that Henry wondered about.
"Uncle Spence, do you know anything about girls?"