Neevah
“How do I get tested?”Mama asks.
Her voice, the question, seems to come from much farther away than Clearview, North Carolina. After all these years making do without her, I need her now more than I ever have. I want one of those hugs only mothers can give that make you feel, even if only for a few moments, like everything will be okay. I’ve spent the last hour discussing lupus and the kidney transplant and the need for a donor, but what I want most right now is her.
“I’ll send you all the info.” I try to smile, hoping she’ll hear it in my voice.
“You should have told me as soon as this all happened.”
“I know. The meds they put me on actually made me feel a little better, though they warned it’s not a long-term solution. I guess I just dove right back into my routine and . . .”
The excuse probably sounds as lame in her ears as it does in mine.
“You’re right,” I say. “I was putting off asking. I’m sorry.”
Her sigh is weary and the slightest bit disapproving. “You still trying to do it all on your own, baby. I want to be there for you. You gonna let me?”
I clear my throat, not sure how to fix some of the things that remain broken between my family and me. Old habits die hard, but I need to try.
“Yes, ma’am,” I whisper, feeling like the little girl she used to chastise. “I’ll try.”
“Good, ’cause this is serious. Your Aunt Marian—”
“Aunt Marian was a long time ago. They know a lot more and can do a lot more now. I’m not saying this is easy. It’s not. It won’t be, and even the transplant won’t be an end-all solution, but it’s the next thing we do, and then we hope for the best.”
“A transplant sounds expensive. All of this does. You got insurance?”
“I do, yeah. Through the stage union.”
“How are you feeling?”
Exhausted. Depressed. Overwhelmed.
“I’m fine.”
She’s right. Even now, I find myself sheltering my mother from the full extent of what’s going on with me. Why do I do that? Why can’t I just unburden myself to her? All my life I’ve seen her shoulder other people’s troubles, help them when they needed it, but when I need her, I always hold back. Maybe on some level I still feel she chose Terry over me, and I’m not sure if when I really need her, she’ll be there.
“Have you talked to Terry yet?”
I knew she would ask, but something inside still startles at the mention of my sister. Most of the cast and crew are being tested, and I’ve only known them four months. Yet the hardest person to ask when it’s life or death is my own sister.
“I will. I’m just busy trying to wrap this movie.”
“You’re still working?” Mama’s volume rises with her disbelief. “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital or on dialysis or . . . something? You need a kidney, for God’s sake.”
“I’m on lots of medicine, Mama. The prednisone makes me feel like I can conquer the world, until it doesn’t. I’m actually really tired, like, can barely keep my eyes open.”
“You need to get some rest.”
“I will. We’ve been on location the last couple of weeks, but we’re back in LA now. I don’t have many scenes left to shoot, and believe me, Canon makes sure I do as little as possible.”
“How are things with your director?” Mama’s teasing makes this feel more like a normal conversation, and not one in which I ask for organs.
“Canon has been amazing and supportive.”
As much as I appreciate it, I keep asking myself if he really wants to be here? Still? We were just getting off the ground, just really started dating, and then this. These are higher stakes than he saw coming. What if he feels trapped?
“I want to meet him,” Mama says.