From Cloudy…with a Chance of Murder
Shawn: You hate that bike! You've always hated that bike! And you've been especially hard-assed about it since I—
Henry: Since you what, Shawn? Since you had your accident? Is that it? Is that where you're Old Man crossed the line? Ok, fine. I'll tell you what. I'm going to lay off…I'll tell you what you do. You take me off your call list the next time the ambulance picks you up and brings you in that door. Alright? Fair.
Note- This can't be in reference to the accident in Spellingg Bee, as Henry wasn't called for that one and Shawn never told him what happened. Even if he figured it out, he didn't see Shawn in the hospital and he was not called. Hence, this is referring to a previous accident.
The phone rang.
"Hello?" Henry grunted, rolling over and looking at the clock through blurry eyes.
4:14.
Who the hell--?
"Mr. Spencer? Mr. Henry Spencer?"
It was an unfamiliar voice.
Male.
Sympathetic.
Definitely a doctor.
"Yeah," Henry sat up, suddenly in Cop Mode.
"Yeah. This is Henry Spencer. Who's this?"
"My name is Dr. Hirsch. I'm a trauma surgeon at Santa Barbara Community Hospital. I'm calling about your son, Shawn. There's been an accident…"
"An accident?"
Henry didn't hear another word.
The drive to the hospital was a blur. He didn't remember a moment of it.
If he's alive, I'm going to kill him!
The thought kept thundering in his brain.
I'll kill him.
I'll kill him.
If he's alive…I'll kill him.
If he's alive…
How had this happened? He had just fought with Shawn yesterday, and now he was doubting whether he would live to see tomorrow? How did everything change so damn fast?
Henry didn't realize it until he walked into the hospital and saw Shawn, awake but dazed and in pain. As he exhaled, relief flooding his body, it struck him.
I haven't breathed.
This is the first time I've breathed since the phone call.
The phone call stopped my life.
My life stopped.
Nothing else mattered…not until I knew Shawn was okay…
Shawn was all that mattered.
Henry stared in wonder at his badly battered and broken, but very much alive, son, who was still unaware of his presence.
Shawn is all that matters.
Henry approached the bed quietly. Shawn glanced up, seeing him for the first time.
"Hi, Dad," he said weakly, attempting a smile. He couldn't wave, as his arms were both in heavy casts, along with his right leg up to the thigh.
Henry hesitated before answering, searching his brain for something to say.
Tell him.
Just tell him.
He cleared his throat.
"What the hell were you thinking? I told you this would happen! I hate that damn bike!"