I’m trying to be patient.
They took Neevah back an hour and a half ago, and no word. I’ve started pacing because apparently that’s supposed to help.
“Pacing won’t help,” Takira says, not lifting her eyes from the ESSENCE magazine she’s reading.
“I know that.”
Still pacing.
“Then stop.”
Shit.
“Is this what they do?” I demand of her . . . and the empty waiting room. “They just leave people out here wondering for hours if their loved ones are okay?”
The magazine lowers and her eyes set on me, sharp and alert. “Love?”
Shit again.
I haven’t even said that to Neevah. I’ll be damned if Takira hears it before she does.
“Loved ones.” I stop pacing. “Friends. Relatives. You know what I mean.”
“Oh, I do.” She gives me another one of those stupid secret grins. “I see you, Canon.”
“Speaking of relatives, should we call her mom? Or . . .”
Her sister?
I know things haven’t been great between Neevah and her family, but they would want to know this, right? But does Neevah want them involved?
“I think we wait on that.” Takira sets ESSENCE aside. “As strained as things have been with her sister, I don’t think we can assume anything.”
“She mentioned she and her mom had a good talk at Christmas.”
“Yeah, but it’s all been weird for so many years, I think we let Neevah decide when she brings them in.”
Takira’s phone rings, and she frowns down at the screen, rolling her eyes. “Somebody from set. I had to drop what I was doing to leave. Lemme get this. I’ll be right back.”
She answers and walks up the hall, disappearing around the corner.
A long sigh exits my body, and it feels like my first full breath I’ve expelled since I saw Neevah fall. My hands ache from being clenched so tightly. First around the wheel driving here. And ever since they took her away. But when I open my fists . . .
I hold my hands out, watching the fingers tremor, a reflection of the quake happening inside of me. I had to drive here. I could not let the ambulance take her. No one else knows because no one else was there the night they took my mother for the last time in a wail of sirens and a specter of flashing lights. Her palliative nurse had left for the evening. I was home for the weekend from school.
Bacterial pneumonia.
In the end, that’s what took her—a complication of the disease she had fought so valiantly that snuck through the back door.
I’ll never forget the sound of her gasping for air, fighting until the end for every breath.
The idea of seeing, hearing Neevah taken away in an ambulance the way they took Mama . . . in the moment, I couldn’t withstand it, so I prayed to God and chased the devil to drive her here in record time.
Slowly, deliberately, I curl my shaking fingers back into fists. It’s a time for control. Not to indulge emotions or to be plagued by fears. Neevah needs me to be strong. To be here, which means I can’t walk out, fleeing the warring scents of disinfectant and disease and the eerie, careful quiet of a waiting room.
I have to stay.
And despite all of that, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
I can’t believe how little thought I’ve given to what’s happening on set or how this will impact production. Best believe Evan and the rest of the cast and crew are thinking about it. Not to mention Law Stone, once he finds out. No doubt I have some difficult conversations ahead of me tonight, but for now, I don’t give a damn about any of it.
Just her.
One small woman has turned my world upside down, capsized all my priorities. And not knowing how she’s doing, I’m adrift.
A young nurse in pink scrubs walks into the waiting room holding a clipboard. “Are you here for Neevah Mathis?”
“Yeah, we are,” Takira answers, speeding up the hall just as the nurse appears.
Did I really not even know my girl’s government name? I’ve fallen in love with Neevah Saint, and it’s a stage name?
“You can see her now,” she says, smiling and turning for us to follow.
When we reach the room, Takira rushes over to the bed and hugs Neevah. Her eyelids droop and there are circles beneath her eyes. Even in just a few hours, there seems to be a darker cast to her skin. She smiles weakly at me over Takira’s shoulder and extends her hand, which I take, and move to the opposite side facing Takira.
“I’m sorry about all this.” She flops back on the pillow, lines of exhaustion sketched around her mouth. “I’ll get back on set as soon as possible.”
“Don’t even think about that right now.” I frown and rub my thumb over the back of her hand. “That’ll all get figured out.”
Before I can reassure Neevah any more, a tall man with salt and pepper hair walks in.
“Ms. Mathis?” he asks, glancing from the chart he’s holding to Neevah. “I’m Dr. Baines.”
“Hi.” Neevah looks a little wary, but smiles. “Did they tell you I have a rheumatologist in New York and one who’s been consulting locally since I’ve been here? I told them when I came in that I have discoid lupus and gave them my doctor’s information.”
“Yes, I’ve seen your records and spoken with both rheumatologists.” He hangs the chart on a hook at the foot of the bed. “You’re on top of it.”
“I think we can safely say,” Neevah offers with a wry grin and waves a hand over her hospital bed, “that it is on top of me.”
“I need to discuss what we’re seeing in your case so far.” He glances at Takira and me. “So if we need some privacy—”
“Oh, no.” Neevah squeezes my hand again and smiles at Takira. “They’re fine. They know as much as I do so far, and it’s okay if they hear.”
“Alright.” Dr. Baines nods and adjusts his glasses. “I’ve seen the notes from both your doctors. I’ve seen the blood, urine, and antibodies test results, which prompted them, very wisely, to order a kidney biopsy. You haven’t had that yet, correct?”
“Correct,” Neevah says, a frown knitting her brows. “They wanted to get some of the supplements I take out of my system first.”
“I understand. Your blood pressure was extremely elevated. You were complaining of a headache. You’ve been nauseous.”
“Yes.” Neevah laughs nervously. “Why do I feel like you’re building a case, Doctor?”
His smile is faint and kind. “I’m not building the case. Your body is.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, unable to stay quiet.
“Neevah,” Dr. Baines says. “We won’t know for sure until we get the results from the biopsy, but you’re obviously in the midst of a flare-up. Been under a lot of stress lately?”
Guilt tightens a hand around my throat as I consider what the movie has demanded of her. God, just yesterday I chewed her out for being late.
“Maybe some.” Neevah looks down at the hospital sheet.
“She’s been starring in a movie,” I interject. “For the last four months it’s been rigorous dancing, late nights, a very demanding schedule.”
“You wanna get kicked out?” Neevah asks, the look she shoots me only half-joking.
“He does need the full picture,” Takira says. “So they can know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
Neevah heaves an exasperated sigh. “So maybe there was some stress, yeah, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“I’m sure you’re aware stress is one of the main triggers for flare-ups,” Dr. Baines says. “In talking with your rheumatologists, we suspect your lupus diagnosis has evolved and we may need to broaden the original assessment of what we’re dealing with.”
The corners of Neevah’s eyes tighten. “What does that mean?”
“We won’t know for sure until we see the results of the biopsy,” Dr. Baines says, hesitation obvious in his voice. “Neevah, all signs indicate you’re not just dealing with discoid lupus, but possibly nephritis. Probably systemic lupus, but again, I don’t feel comfortable confirming that until we get the biopsy results.”
Neevah draws a sharp breath, and her fingers tighten around mine, but I don’t give any indication I see her fear. I stroke along the ink decorating her thumb, hoping I can offer some measure of comfort even silently. I’m trying to remain as calm as possible, but inwardly, panic takes off like a runner, sprinting past reason. Evan’s voice echoes in my head and I hear him telling us just this morning that systemic lupus is the life-threatening one, and what a relief that’s not what Neevah has. I’d never heard someone use the phrase systemic lupus until today, and they’re suddenly the most important words in the world.
“No.” Neevah shakes her head, her wig going a little more askew. “Dr. Ansford said . . . she told me it was discoid.”
“And based on the information your body presented to her a few years ago, even four months ago, that diagnosis was appropriate,” Dr. Baines says. “But a lot has happened over the last four months, and things can escalate very quickly. We can’t say for sure until after the biopsy, so let’s go ahead and get it done so we can see what comes back.”
“Okay.” Neevah stares at the bed with wide, unfocused eyes, like she’s looking at something none of us can see, and I guess she is. Takira and I are here for her, but it’s her body.
It shocks me that I would literally put myself in her place if it meant sparing her the possible road ahead, but the truth of it hits me standing by her bed and watching the fear soak into her eyes. I felt this way with my mom over and over. Watching MS steal so much from her, feeling helpless, but wanting to be strong for her. I don’t know what those test results will tell us, but I do know what it’s like to walk a hard road with someone you love.
