“The best at my boyfriend?” I ask in harsh disbelief. “You were the prettiest girl at our school. In the whole town, T. You could have had anyone you wanted, and you chose the one who should have been off-limits.”
“I was young and stupid. I paid for it.”
“It’s not so bad, Terry,” Mama says, her voice low and gentle. “You have a husband who loves you and an amazing daughter. A great job. A great life that most folks would envy. Learn to be content.”
“I am satisfied.” Terry casts me a baleful look. “Until she comes around, and I think of all the things I don’t have. What I gave up.”
“I bet you were glad I couldn’t bring myself home to face you, weren’t you?”
“I really didn’t want to hurt you,” Terry says. “But on some level, I did want you to know how it felt not to have what you wanted. For someone else to have it, because it felt like you had it all. Ironically, I drove you out of town and onto all the things I always suspected you’d have and I wouldn’t.”
“What exactly did you think I had?” I ask, puzzled. “You were the popular one. The prettiest one. The one everybody wanted.”
“I wasn’t the one Brand wanted,” she said softly. “I’m ashamed to say it now, but I went after him to prove I could do it. And once I had him, he hated me. Do you know how it feels to be married to someone who’s in love with someone else? Who loves your sister and resents you for ruining that?”
“Are you saying that he still—”
“Not anymore.” Terry chuckles, a wry grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “I think he finally accepted he was stuck with me and decided he may as well get on with loving me, since we had no choice. At first, though, yeah. So I didn’t want you around, no.”
“Quianna mentioned some trouble between you two,” I venture. “Are you—”
“We working on it.” Her lips tighten and she fiddles with the pile of yarn in her lap. “Marriage is hard, but we trying like everybody else.”
“I’m . . . well, I’m glad.”
Dr. Okafor enters, carrying a clipboard and her usual air of efficiency.
“Terry,” she says, a bright smile on her face. “If you’ll come with me, we’ll start the first battery of tests.”
Terry sets her knitting aside and stands to follow Dr. Okafor. I can’t let her go like this. We just spent the last ten minutes talking about things we should have been discussing the last twelve years.
“Terry,” I say, not sure what should come next.
She turns at the door, her expression guarded again—braced for the resentment, the anger that has characterized our relationship.
“Yeah?” she asks warily.
“Just . . . thank you.”
She doesn’t smile exactly, but relief flickers in her eyes and maybe the first kindling of hope. She’s my sister. Used to be my best friend. Has been my enemy. Bad blood has been between us for years—maybe we can finally find our way to a clean start. I’m literally hooked up to a machine taking all my bad blood and making it clean. Making it new. Surely, somehow, she and I can do the same.
64
Neevah
“I’ve missed this,” Takira says, sitting down with her popcorn on the massive leather sectional in Canon’s living room. “Our girl time.”
“Me, too.” I cradle my bowl of blueberries and snuggle into Takira’s side. “I’ve missed you.”
“Canon needs to learn the rules of girl gang. You do not roll up and steal my best friend in a time of crisis. Does he realize you do have a place here in LA? And a roommate who is perfectly capable of making sure you take your meds and follow the doctor’s orders?”
“This is one of the few times over the last three weeks Canon has not been glued to my side. If he didn’t have this meeting with Galaxy he can’t miss, he’d be right here. I think if I told him I wanted to go home, he’d be like, ‘Sure. Gimme a minute so I can pack my bag.’”
“He got it bad, girl. That man is in love with you.”
“He is.” I can’t hold back a sigh. “And it is definitely a two-way street. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m just as gone over him.”
“Oh, that is evident.” Takira laughs when I punch her arm. “It is! I saw it the night we met him.”
“You did?”
“Girl, you could barely keep your eyes off that man. I thought you were gonna jump him at the table, po thang.”
“I was not that bad!” I close my eyes and crack one open. “Was I?”
“And remember when he called that first time and you almost maimed yourself?”
“You are literally cackling over this. I have no shame about it. My massive crush is now the love of my life, so everything is perfect.” My smile slips. “I mean besides the part where I’ve been in the hospital for approximately a quarter of our relationship and I need a kidney if I want to live to see our first anniversary . . . things are perfect.”