The Only Exception - {TOM HOLLAND}

T W E N T Y F I V E*

 @elle_york97: I'm sitting outside beside the flower boxes.

You look up from your phone and across the swath of people and tables. Sure enough, amongst the midday diners Elizabeth is sitting pretty at a corner table that is mostly hidden from large chrysanthemum bushes.

She's scrolling through her phone with her lower lip between her teeth⏤ she's nervous.

Pocketing your phone, you weave through tables and occupied chairs, only to stop and stand tall at Elizabeth's table. The woman looks up and when she recognizes you aren't a waiter; she clears her throat and sets her phone face-down on the table.

"Thank you for meeting me here," Elizabeth says in lieu of a true greeting.

"I'm not here for you," you say and sit down, "I'm here for Ezra and Tom."

The English woman narrows her eyes for a moment, but sighs as if saying I should have expected as much. Which she should have, you're twice the woman she is, at least in the eyes of people that matter most.

Elizabeth leans to the side and riffles through her large purse, and a few seconds later she returns with a large manila envelope. At the same time a waiter comes by and sets down two glasses of water and offers some specials.

You open your mouth to decline any food, since this isn't really a social call, but Elizabeth orders a cheese platter to share. The waiter nods and scurries back inside to place the order, and you hope Elizabeth knows to pull out her wallet by the end of this.

"So, what's in the ominous envelope?" You ask.

"It's not ominous," Elizabeth says while rolling her eyes, "it's just what the papers came in."

Her delicately manicured nails pinch the brass tabs and she opens the envelope. Her hand reappears with a thick packet of papers, and you can't help but be a little nervous. Elizabeth extends it out to you, and you get a whiff of her heavily floral perfume. It distracts you for a moment, but then your eyes skim the paper.

"Prostate cancer?" You ask a bit loudly.

The two men at a table nearby pause and look over. You wince and shrink in your chair a bit, and Elizabeth looks just as uncomfortable as you feel. The two men return to their food, and you grab the packet from the woman beside you. It ends up being an informational packet on all things to do with prostate cancer, and you'd been so into investigating you didn't see her pull out two more things.

They are two smaller envelopes.

"This is for Tom and Ezra, from my dad," Elizabeth says softly.

You take those too when she hands them over.

"And... what's going on here?" You ask.

Elizabeth sighs and takes a long sip of her water; her lipstick stains the glass rim, "my father was diagnosed with stage three prostate cancer. I thought you and Tom would like to know, for Ezra's sake."

You sit in silence, and you feel your throat tighten as an instinctual reaction. Around the table there is a roar of chatting, chewing, and silverware clanking. Cars zoom past and dogs bark, yet this table feels like ground zero and silence rings in your ears for a moment.

"Oh," you say.

Don't say sorry, you quickly remind yourself, she's heard it a million times.

Elizabeth blinks at you, as if she's expecting you to say more than that. Which you probably should; you definitely should.

"Thank you for letting me know, um, that'll come in handy when Ezra's older. He'll be able to catch it earlier in case he does...you know, get it," you say while nervously fiddling with the seams of the two envelopes in your hands.