Should I call?

Henry got home from the hospital Friday afternoon. His friend, Phyllis,* drove up to Miami to get him. I guess his condition could not be that enduringly serious, or that would not have released him to her instead of Reg, his husband.

I got all this from brief texts from Patrick, an old friend of Reg's who is staying with them.  I haven't heard from Henry or Reg directly now in a week.

I know I could call. The worst that would happen is that no one picks up.

No, wait. That's not the worst that could happen.

Henry could be super angry at Reg and tell me how he wants a divorce. Those are unpleasant conversations because 1) it's just Henry's rage and vulnerability talking; he doesn't mean it and 2) even if I thought he meant it, Henry can't support or care for himself independently of Reg, so it's a moot point. Or Henry could be mad at me over some imagined slight. It happens. He can't help it and I understand that. But it's depleting to listen to his anger.

Or I could say the wrong thing to Reg and get the back of his hand. Either over the phone or on social media. An old friend of Henry's ran into Reg and expressed shock at Reg's latest hospitalization, saying, "I just talked to him and he was fine yesterday!" Reg tore into him on Facebook, asking how he could be so self absorbed as to see Henry was not "fine" and wondering why the fuck people don't read up on traumatic brain injury and understand that Henry's condition will continue to change in the blink of an eye. I know Reg is tired, guilty and overwhelmed and it manifests itself in anger. I've recommended therapy to him repeatedly, telling him no one expects him to handle all this without help. He says he knows, and then he doesn't follow up ... and then lacerates the well meaning.

So to be honest, I'm afraid of them both.

Every time the phone rings, I want it to be one of them ... and I don't.

*I cannot stand Phyllis. She drinks and tokes way too much. She and Henry were at her house, enjoying their wine, the night he got on his bike and pedaled into a van. I will bet you any money that, on Friday's long drive home to Key West, they stopped for drinks.