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.