Canon
“It’s a match.”
I look up from the desk in my home office. Neevah stands in the doorway, cautious excitement in her expression.
“What’d you say?” I slam my laptop shut and focus on her.
“Terry finished all her tests, and she’s a match.” She covers her mouth, catching a tiny sob/laugh, then rushing over and throwing herself in my lap. We hold each other and I absorb the sigh of relief that shudders through her. I don’t know if it’s hers or mine, but our bodies share it. I pull back to rain kisses on her cheeks and nose and lips, resting my forehead against hers for a few seconds to let this sink in.
Neevah has a kidney.
She’ll always have to manage this disease, but getting a new kidney should drastically improve things for her.
She cups my face and smiles down at me. “I can finish the movie.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s get through the transplant first. And then Dr. Okafor will say when.”
“But Canon, everyone is going their separate ways soon. Trey has another project, and I know Jill does, too.”
“Let me worry about that. It’s my job to figure all that out, and I don’t want you thinking about it.”
“Of course I’m thinking about it. It’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s your health. It’s your life, and I don’t give a damn about Dessi Blue if you’re not well.”
Saying it aloud is liberating. Mama would be pleased. Her wish for me—that I would find someone to love more than my work, than my art—has come true with a vengeance. This thing that threatened Neevah’s life and our future together shifted my priorities. Changed my lens and brought everything into focus. There is no question what—who—is most important in my life.
Neevah.
Dessi Bluemay be the best movie I’ve ever made—may be the best I’ll ever make. That remains to be seen, but I know it means more to me than everything I’ve done besides The Magic Hour. And still it stands pale and insignificant beside my love for Neevah. I’ve known it, have conducted myself that way in every meeting when Galaxy demanded a timeline for the finished product. When will Neevah be back? When can we start editing? I’ve made it very clear that she is the priority, not just because she’s my girlfriend, but because that is human decency. That’s the way we should approach it. I hope I would feel that way for any actor who trusted themselves to me for a performance, but I know I feel that way for Neevah. Anyone who pressures her to come back a day sooner than she’s ready has to go through me.
That includes Neevah herself.
“We’ll talk more about the movie later. What’s the next step for the transplant?”
“The counselor still needs to talk to Terry and make sure she understands the risks and really grasps what this means. She’ll only have one kidney for the rest of her life.” Neevah presses her lips together, shakes her head. “It’s so much to ask of someone, especially when you’ve been at odds with them for this long.”
“It is, but she’s your sister. Something like this has a way of cutting through all the bullshit that comes between us and keeps us apart. You would do the same for her.”
“I would.” Her mouth trembles and tears shimmer in her dark eyes. “She wouldn’t even have to ask.”
“If you think about it, neither did you. She flew out here before you even got a chance to tell her you needed her.”
“You’re right.” Realization dawns on her face. “Wow, she did. It’s like Dessi says when she and Cal leave Paris and go home to Alabama. When family needs you, you go even if they don’t call.”
I know it’s still a lot for Neevah to wrap her head around—that her sister, with whom she has had so little relationship her entire adult life, is willing to make this sacrifice—but I just want her to start healing. I want her off dialysis and with a fresh start. She and her sister can work out any remaining differences in their own time.
I’ve tried to hide it from Neevah as much as possible because I didn’t want to add to her anxiety, but I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since we found out she needed a kidney. I realized I loved her just before I realized I could lose her, and that has tortured me. I’ve known the pain of losing the person you love most in the world. That is the risk of love, what makes it a radical act. You pour everything into another person who is bound by fragile humanity. You could lose them at any time, but you can’t reason with your heart.
All these years, I managed to convince myself I would never do anything that foolhardy. Why would you open yourself up to that potential pain again? And then someone walks onstage, into the light, and you realize you want to let them in, but they bring with them not only the best of life, but the risk of loss.
And at some point, your heart decides it’s worth it.
Sometimes attraction is the body’s way of keeping a secret from your heart until you’re ready to hear it. Maybe my heart recognized who Neevah was to me immediately—my light, the part that would fit with me like we were crafted for one another—but disguised it as admiration, lust, desire, need. Emotions I could accept, giving me time to fall in love. Inevitably. Irrevocably.
“So what’s next?” I ask, reminding us both that we need to make plans. “When is this happening?”
“Dr. Okafor is coordinating with the transplant center,” Neevah says. “But it could be as soon as the end of next week. I’ll fly to North Carolina for the surgery. I’ll be in ICU for probably a week and then they may keep me a little longer, but after that, I go home.”