"Let me in!" Henry demanded. "My mother works here."
The bouncer crossed his impressive arms and gave him an amused once-over. "Don't think so," he said. "Never seen you before. Go home, kid! Come back when you're legal."
"Please!" Henry insisted. "I swear my mum's in here! Her name is Emma Swan. She plays tonight."
The bouncer burst into a resounding laughter. "That's a good one!" he said gleefully. "I've never heard it before! Can't wait to see Swan's face when I tell her!"
"But it's true!" Henry protested. "Emma Swan is my mother. Let me in please, I have to see her!"
"Listen, buddy," said the man, still grinning broadly, "First, she's on stage at this hour. She won't come out and climb back into that bug of hers until 2 a.m. And secondly, I've known Emma for years. She has no kids. Not really the Mum type, like, at all."
"Hm," Henry hesitated, "in fact, she hasn't met me yet, but if you let me in…"
"OK boy, that was fun. But you're unaccompanied, and there's no way I'm letting you in. That's what I'm here for, got it? Now, can you go back home on your own, or do I have to call the police and tell them there's a lost kid who needs a ride home over here?"
Henry opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it and turned around with a sigh. He had sneaked out after Regina went to bed, and could probably do without the police bringing him back home. Slowly retracing his steps to the subway station, he suddenly stopped before even realizing why, and some of the bouncer's words just clicked. This strange curvy yellow car, parked a few blocks away from the club… It was a bug! Like the one in the Disney movie! His heart thumped harder. How many yellow bugs like this one could there be? This was his mother's car.
He sat on the sidewalk next to the bug and started waiting.
"Hey, kiddo, are you OK? Do you need anything?" A hand shook Henry's shoulder and he jerked awake. He had fallen asleep, his head on his knees. He sprung up awkwardly, not fully used to the length of his teenager's arms and legs yet. The person who had awakened him was a young woman in her thirties. She had long blond hair, was dressed in skinny jeans, riding boots, a tight t-shirt and a red leather jacket. He recognized her face at once from his Google search.
"Are you OK?" she repeated gently, looking concerned.
"Yes I am," Henry stammered, "Sorry, I just fell asleep. The guy at the club wouldn't let me in, so I decided to wait for you…"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "You're a bit young for night-clubbing. Not that I don't appreciate having new fans. You love music that much?"
"Actually, I do," Henry confessed. "But that's not why I'm here," he added, reddening. "You… You're Emma Swan, right?"
"Yes I am," she answered, frowning. "I thought you knew, since you came to see me. Why are you asking?"
"Just checking," said Henry. "I'm, er… Your son. The one you gave up at birth, fourteen years ago? My name's Henry."
Having introduced himself, he automatically held out his hand for a shake, then dropped it and seemed at a loss about what to do next, staring awkwardly at his feet.
Emma was speechless. She had never told anyone about the baby. If that boy had found her, he had to tell the truth. She looked at him. In the streetlights, he was a lanky teenage boy, already as tall as she was, with shiny dark hair, dark eyes and a nose that had grown a little too big for his still smooth and childish face. She couldn't see any likeness to herself or to his father in him. Fuck, what was she supposed to do? Hug him?
"Oh," she finally said. "But what are you doing here? Don't you have school tomorrow?"
The boy looked at her, his eyes full of expectation. "I had to meet you," he said in a hoarse voice. "My mum is horrible. The one who adopted me, I mean. She hates me. I can't stay with her any longer. Please, help me."
"Wow," said Emma, overwhelmed. "Wait a minute – you do realize that giving you up means I have no legal rights over you anymore?" She suddenly felt on the verge of freaking out. How are you supposed to react when your teenage son, whom you haven't seen since the day he was born, suddenly materializes in front of you in the middle of the night and begs for your help? She had no idea about what a mother would do. After all, she never had one herself.
Henry, visibly torn between his feelings and his wish to behave like a grown-up, was trying his best to pretend it was no big deal, but was wearing his heart on his sleeve, and seemed upset enough to burst into tears at any moment if she didn't do something. Emma had been a mother for barely five minutes and she was already a disappointment to her son. She took pity on him and made a decision. As a parent she had no idea what to do, but she was a good listener. "Come on, kiddo," she said, "There's a diner over there. Let's go grab something and talk."