"Roy."
"She's still with us," he assured me and nodded toward the monitors.
I took Mama's hand in mine and held it tightly, held it as if I was holding her from falling into the grave itself. She didn't stir.
"Mama," I found strength enough to say, "it's me, Rain. I'm here, Mama, with Roy. Don't die, Mama. Please don't die," I pleaded.
The tears that streaked down my face felt like drops of boiling water.
"You'd be proud of me, Mama. I'm doing so well at school and I was in this play. I had the starring role and people think I can be an actress, Mama. Mama..."
Roy put his hand on my shoulder when I lowered my head to catch a breath. My chest was so tight, I could barely get enough air into my lungs. A nurse came over to the bed and looked at Mama. She checked an I.V. line and then glanced quickly at us as if the truth in her eyes would destroy us. I looked up at Roy and he looked down.
"Mama," I chanted as I stroked her hand and then stood to touch her hair and kiss her face. "Why didn't you tell me the truth, Mama? I would have stayed with you."
"That's why she didn't," Roy muttered.
I stood there, my hand-on her hair, gazing down at her quiet face, recalling the sound of her laughter, the way she held me and spoke so hopefully to me, always hopefully, dreaming my dreams, urging me to have more confidence in myself, telling me I was beautiful and special.
"Is she in any pain, Roy?"
"They say no," he replied. He gazed at her. "She doesn't look like she is."
I sat again and buried my face against her shoulder and the bed. Roy stood by me patiently. After a while, he touched my hair.
"Maybe we should go down to' the cafeteria and get something to eat, Rain. What do you say?"
"I'm not hungry, but I'll go with you," I told him. I kissed Mama's cheek and we left the intensive care unit.
I let him buy me some coffee. He got himself a ham and cheese sandwich and we sat alone at a table near the window. There were mostly hospital employees in the cafeteria, all of them chatting away and looking through us or past us as if we were invisible. I supposed the sight of troubled relatives was common enough to them.
"Tell me about what you've been up to," Roy urged. I knew he wanted to keep me talking because while I was talking, I couldn't cry.
I described everyone and what I had been doing in school.
"Horses?" he said with a smile. "You, riding horses?"
"My teacher says I'm good, too."
He laughed.
"Why didn't you call me more often, Roy?" I asked. "Didn't you get my letter?"
"Yeah, but for a while it wasn't easy to make a call and then, when I called and heard how you were so busy and involved, I figured you didn't want to hear from me."
"That was stupid, Roy," I snapped.
He looked sorry so fast I felt bad for getting angry.
"I was waiting for you to call again. I was very worried about you."
"I figured I'd see you soon enough," he said with a deep sigh.
"You knew about this, then? You knew from the start?"
"No, Rain, I didn't. She didn't tell me until you were gone from D.C.," he said, "and she made me promise on her life that I wouldn't tell you. That's the truth, Rain. I swear."
"When I first left," I began, "I was so heartbroken because I thought Mama couldn't have loved me as much as I thought if she could just let me go like that. I was even angry and thought I wouldn't call her, but when I heard her voice, I knew she loved me just as much and what she was doing, she was doing for me, putting me first. No one's ever going to do that for me again, Roy. Not these people, not this side of my blood, no one."