“Okay, I’ll give you that. It’s bad. But not as bad as it sounds. I promise.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s a brain tumor. You said ‘growth,’ but I Googled it. That’s a tumor,” she whispered harshly.
“I know. The words sound so scary. But, I promise you, from everything the doctor has explained to me, it’s not dangerous. Not in any life-threatening way. In fact, it’s probably been there my whole life, and now it’s just grown or moved a tiny little bit.”
She scrunched her face up, studying him suspiciously. “Really?”
“Really. I swear. By the time it got big enough to make me seriously sick, I’d be 150 years old. That’s how slow it is. That’s what more than one doctor told me. Including the specialist I just saw.”
She let out a giant breath and nodded, then dipped her head to try to hide the fact she was wiping tears away.
His heart tore right in two. This was why he didn’t want to tell people. Look at the pain it caused.
But, he reflected in sudden revelation, that’s actually why I need to tell them. She’s not crying because of what’s happening to you. Not really. Not right now, at any rate. She’s crying because of how alone she felt, and that she couldn’t talk to you. Which is worse, in a way.
He shook his head. Crap. He had to go have some seriously not-fun conversations, and it was probably going to suck. But it had to be done.