“Mrs. Saint . . . uh, Mathis, it’s Canon Holt.”
There’s a loaded pause on the other end of the line.
“Neevah’s director?”
“Yes, but I’m also . . .” I should have asked Neevah what she told her mother about us. Fuck it. “We’re also seeing each other. I’m not sure if she mentioned—”
“She did. In so many words. Is she . . . is she okay? Is something wrong?”
“I know she’s spoken with you about her lupus diagnosis and the kidney trouble.”
“Yes, I’m being tested, but they think I may be too old. Sixty is not old,” she says with indignant pride. “But they want a younger kidney.”
“Her sister still doesn’t know, right?” An edge creeps into my words.
“I told Neevah to ask her because it’s killing me, not being able to tell Terry. Has something happened?”
“Neevah’s in the hospital.” I glance up the hall that leads to her room. “She’s resting, but her blood pressure spiked again. They want to keep her here to monitor for at least a few days. They said some patients with kidney failure have been known to have strokes or heart problems.”
I draw a sharp breath that does jack shit to calm my rioting emotions. “The medications they’ve been using to manage her kidney function just aren’t doing a good enough job. She’s been trying to avoid dialysis, but her doctor thinks temporary dialysis is the best thing until we find a kidney.”
“Oh, my God,” Mrs. Mathis gasps. “What . . . what can I do?”
“She asked for you. Can you come?”
“I . . . I’m afraid to fly,” she says, and I hear the shame and frustration in her voice. “I know it’s silly, but—”
“Galaxy, the studio producing the movie Neevah’s in, has a private plane. Would you be willing to come, to try, if I could arrange that? It’s more comfortable than flying commercial, and it might be easier for you.”
“Could I bring someone with me?”
“Of course.” I don’t hesitate because she could bring Attila the Hun, far as I care.
“Terry?” Mrs. Mathis asks tentatively. “Could I bring Neevah’s sister? I think I could fly if she’s with me.”
I already know Neevah won’t be happy, but I don’t know how to balance everything she wants with what she needs. She needs a kidney but doesn’t want to ask her sister, who is her best shot. She wants her mother but wouldn’t want her sister to come. I love her enough to deal with the fallout if I make the wrong moves.
“Just come,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Can you come tonight if I make the arrangements?”
She agrees and we disconnect. I immediately dial Evan and brace myself for another conversation I’d rather not have.
“Hey, what’s up?” Evan asks. “Have you seen that last batch of film from the labs? It looks fantastic.”
“Yeah, I watched some earlier today. I need—”
“You should be able to start editing soon, right? I mean, I know we still have a few scenes with Neevah and the band, but Monk says we should wrap this week. We can get at least close to back on track.”
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, man.” I sit in one of the waiting room chairs. “Neevah’s back in the hospital.”
“What? Is she . . . what’s going on?”
“Basically, the meds they have her on aren’t doing a good enough job.” I pass a hand over my eyes and rest my elbows on my knees. “Dr. Okafor wants to put her on dialysis.”
“Dialysis? Wow. That’s . . .”
I know Evan too well not to anticipate how torn he is. He feels for Neevah, and by extension, for me, but his wheels are also turning to work out how we can salvage this production. I never thought I’d say it, but Dessi Blue is the least of my worries right now.
“You have my permission,” I tell him with grim humor.
“What do you mean?”
“To put on your producer hat because I’ll be damned if I can right now, and I guess somebody has to.”
“Galaxy is gonna ride us on this. They don’t want to be all am I the asshole, and they’re concerned for Neevah’s health, obviously—”
“Obviously.”
“But they’ll want a timeline. Trey has another project that begins shooting next month. Jill is booked for another film soon after. So is Kenneth. If we shut this production down now, it could compromise the last scenes.”
“No, it won’t.”
“And how do you guarantee that?”
“Because I’ll still be involved and I’ll make sure we get what we need once Neevah’s able to resume shooting.”
Tension pulls the line taut between us.
“Canon, but what if she—”
“Don’t you say it, Evan.”
“God, I don’t want to, but we have an unfinished movie with a huge budget on our hands. You’re the one who just told me to be the producer here, so I am.”
“What do you want me to do?” I explode, springing to my feet, prowling the waiting room. “I can’t think about that with Neevah sick. I just can’t care about this damn movie until she’s better.”
Story must be protected, at all costs. Sometimes at personal cost.
My words from the night of the New York film festival, the night I met Neevah, come back to haunt me. Damn, I was arrogant. It was so easy to say story must be protected at all costs, at personal cost when I had so little to lose. Now the only thing I care about protecting is Neevah, and there is no cost higher than losing her.
“Canon, I know,” Evan says, his voice sober. “I get it. You focus on her. I’ll buy us some time with Galaxy. They’ve been understanding with the slower schedule to accommodate her illness.”
“Well, I need them to understand that it’s doctor’s orders that she stop production immediately until further notice. Dr. Okafor wants her to start dialysis this week. That’s four hours a day, three days a week.”
“Shit.”
“Lots of people on dialysis can work and lead relatively normal lives. They do the dialysis and then go about their regular routines. Some even do it from home, but that takes weeks of training. Dr. Okafor hopes we’ll find a match for a kidney soon and not have to go that route, which brings me to the reason for my call.”
“There’s more?” Evan asks, injecting the tiniest bit of humor into the question.
“Can we see if Galaxy could bring Neevah’s mom here? She’s afraid of flying, and I think the private route might be better for her, and maybe get her here quicker.”
“I don’t see why that would be a problem. They’ll probably want to do anything that could move this along.”
“Right. I honestly don’t care about their motivation. I just want to give Neevah something. I feel pretty useless right now.”
“You’re where you should be doing what you should do. Now I’m going to go do what I should do. Let me talk with Trey’s agent and the rest of the production team. Update them and talk through some possible solutions.”
“Thanks, man.” I glance up to see Dr. Okafor approaching. “I gotta go. Keep me posted and I’ll circle back.”
Dr. Okafor’s usual impassive expression is tinged with concern.
“How is she?” I demand, slipping my phone in my jeans back pocket.
“She wants to see you. I’m glad you got her here when you did. This could have been a lot worse. She could have had a stroke, Canon.”
My heart palpitates. Skips several beats and the bottom drops out of my belly. I grip the back of my neck and have to sit down.
“Did you tell her about the dialysis?” I ask, my voice wobbling and scratchy.
“Yes.” Dr. Okafor’s brows dip into a frown. “She’s not happy about it, and I tried to reassure her it’s a temporary measure, but . . . she’s not taking any of it well, especially when I advised that she stop production for now.”
“Well, obviously she’s not going back to work until she’s better.”
“She feels an inordinate amount of pressure that the movie is on her shoulders. Honestly, I think that pressure has contributed to the aggressiveness of this flare—of her disease progressing this rapidly. Flares are a part of this condition, and most people have to learn to adjust their lifestyles to make this work. She’s no different.”
Guilt gnaws at my gut hearing Dr. Okafor voice what I’ve been wrestling with. Doing this movie triggered all of this.
“Can I see her now?”
“Yes.”
“Her mother may be flying in.” I hesitate. “I might be speaking out of turn, but I don’t really care. I’ll deal with Neevah being pissed later. Her sister may be coming, too. How much testing could we get done if she’s here a few days?”
Dr. Okafor’s eyes light up. “You know a sibling is our best shot. Only a twin is a higher likelihood. Beyond blood, there is extensive testing. It’s not fast, which is why Neevah has to go on dialysis while we wait.”
“How many tests are we talking? How long?”
“There’s a general medical history and physical exam before we start the more invasive tests, but blood and tissue tests like the ones you took. Beyond that, a long laundry list of labs, EKG, chest exam to test lungs, a psych eval.”
“Good grief.”
“For women, gynecological and mammograms and—”
“Okay. A lot of damn tests. And how long does all this take?”
“Usually weeks. Is her sister coming prepared to at least begin the process?”
“Uh . . . her sister didn’t know Neevah needs a kidney as of ten minutes ago, but their mother is talking to her and hopefully bringing her here.”
“Neevah hasn’t even . . .” Dr. Okafor chops the sentence off and presses her lips together. “You want to see her now?”
“Please.”
As soon as we enter Neevah’s hospital room, her disappointment burdens the air. Her skin looks darker even in the few hours since I brought her in. Her face seems a little swollen, like her ankles. The rash across her nose and cheeks, more prominent. I should have grabbed her headscarf when it fell as we rushed out of the house. I was so freaked out, I just put her in the car and drove like a madman. Now, though, she reaches up to touch the spots where her hair has fallen out, and I wish I’d thought of it. Not because it bothers me, but because I know it bothers her. I’ll text Takira and ask her to bring some.
“Hey.” I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand. “How are you feeling?”
Her lips quiver, even though she presses them tightly together, as if she’s fighting for control of the emotions spilling out. “Did Dr. Okafor tell you about the dialysis?”
“Yeah, she did. It’s only temporary, baby.”
“I wanted . . . she says I have to stop shooting, too. Did she tell you that?”
“She did, and I’m in complete agreement.”
“Canon, come on. I know you. I know this movie means everything to you and I’m messing up . . . I’m sorry.”
“You’re wrong. It’s not this movie that means everything to me.” I run the back of my hand over her cheek. “That’d be you.”
I can’t say I wish I’d never cast her because then I might not have met her or loved her, and I cannot imagine life without her now.
“Don’t think about the movie right now,” I tell her.
“And you aren’t?”
“I’m not. I’m letting Evan and the team worry about that.” I lean in, kissing her forehead and cheek. “I’m only worried about you.”
I go to pull back, but she doesn’t let me, gripping my arm and tugging me up.
“Will you hold me?” she whispers. I’m so used to her confidence, her fearlessness, that I almost miss her fear.
“Yeah. Of course.” It’s probably breaking some hospital rule, but I don’t give a damn, climbing up into the bed, squeezing into the tight space and tucking her head into the crook of my neck. After a few seconds, she starts sniffing quietly and her tears wet my shirt. God, hearing her cry is ripping me apart inside.
“Baby.” I stroke her arm and back. “It’ll be alright. We got this. We’ll fight this.”
“Can you just . . .” She pauses, her voice breaking on a sob. “Can you just let me be sad? Can you just let it hurt? I don’t need you to tell me why it shouldn’t, or that it will be okay. I just want to not fight for a minute. Can you be here for me, with me, while I stop fighting and let myself feel this? I promise I’ll get back up, but for just a minute, let me fall.”
She doesn’t need words from me right now, and anything I say will only sound like I’m trying to make it better, so I simply nod and kiss the top of her head while my shirt absorbs her tears. And for the space of a few minutes, I don’t think of Galaxy, or Neevah’s mother and sister, or anything beyond this room and the two of us in this bed. For a few minutes, she wants to fall. My only thought is to hold her and be here when she gets back up.
