Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Just as I looked back at Mom with the same idea, Henry’s voice rang out.
“I’m done hiding how amazing these past few months have been since Lark came back into my life.” My eyes sprang to his, and I could see the fire in his irises. “Lark is important to me, and I…well…I love him.”
Holy shit, was this really happening? In front of our parents? How fucking brave was Henry being right now? Just throwing it all out there, consequences be damned.
“I…” My breath caught as my emotions swirled from the sheer effort of holding them in. It felt like my heart might burst open from pure joy and affection. “I love you too.”
Henry’s eyes softened, and mine stung as I blinked away tears.
“Love?” Mr. Albrecht said. “What are you—”
“Haven’t you ever wondered why I never date girls?” Henry’s tone was timid, quiet. “I tried, believe me. But I’m gay, no matter how much I’ve pretended I wasn’t. When I saw Lark after all this time, I realized I must’ve had feelings for him even way back then. Feelings I tried to deny all this time.”
Mom stepped up to rub my back in support. I was dying to reach out and touch him. Instead, I stepped to the foot of the bed so he knew I was there.
“Did you know about this?” Mr. Albrecht asked Mom.
She hitched a shoulder. “It’s easy to see if you watch them together. How loving and supportive they are toward each other.”
Mrs. Albrecht reached for Henry’s hand. “I just want you to be happy. And so does your father, even if he’s stubborn and thinks he knows best.”
Henry looked at his dad. “It’s honestly hard to tell sometimes. You never…” His voice trailed off, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “You make me feel like you only care about what I accomplish and how it reflects on you. About football and our family’s legacy at Roosevelt.”
His father shook his head, seeming to shrink a little on himself, as if ashamed, but he didn’t push back, just listened.
“And though you probably didn’t mean it this way, it felt like you thought being sick was something to be ashamed of. People who are fighting cancer—or managing with a disability, or epilepsy, for Christ’s sake—just want to be able to live their lives like everyone else. You know it’s true because it was that way for you. I’m sorry your experience was so scary and terrible, but it’s time for me to make my own decisions and handle my own stuff.” Henry met his father’s gaze. “And instead of hiding it or throwing money at it, maybe we should be talking about our experiences openly, in case it helps other families.”
What a fucking great idea. But I didn’t say it out loud, not yet.
Mrs. Albrecht must’ve thought so too because she was nodding and swiping at her cheek with the heel of her hand.
Mr. Albrecht took a deep breath and then seemed to completely deflate. “I’m so sorry, Henry. That I disappointed you.” He frowned, his shoulders rounding inward. “I suppose I went about it all the wrong way. I never wanted you to struggle like me. To go through any more challenges than you already had.”
“I know, Dad.”
Mr. Albrecht embraced Henry, and it was so emotional and personal that I turned away to give them privacy. “And whatever these tests show…we’ll get through it together.”
Mrs. Albrecht turned to us with tears in her eyes. “Thank you for always being supportive of our Henry.”
“Of course,” Mom replied. “Their struggles made them who they are—amazing young men. And as long as they have our support, they’ll be okay.”
“You’re right. No amount of money…” She glanced at her husband. “Or a ridiculous plaque can take the place of our children’s health.”
Mr. Albrecht nodded in agreement just as we heard the door open, and the doctor walked in.
“I have your results, Henry.” He glanced at me and my mom, then back at Henry. “Would you like anyone to leave the room?”
Henry’s voice was shaky when he replied, “No, that’s okay.”
It felt like we all collectively held our breath as he neared the bed.
“I’ll cut to the chase because I know you’re worried. All the tests came back negative,” he said, and I felt a rush of relief. “We’ll run a couple more, but my suspicion is that what you’ve described is more than likely panic attacks.”
“Panic attacks?” Henry asked as I glanced at Mom with widened eyes.
“Everyone is different, of course, but when your stress levels skyrocket, your body can produce a fight-or-flight response. Your chest gets tight, your sweat glands overproduce, your breathing feels restricted, and in your case, you hyperventilated and passed out.”
“Holy crap,” Henry said, his hand against his mouth. “So that’s why I’ve been feeling this way?”
“That’s my best guess, but this conversation needs to continue with other professionals.”