“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.
62
Neevah
“This must be the worst food I’ve ever tasted,” I complain, pushing the tasteless cabbage and cauliflower around on my plate. Even the salmon, which I usually enjoy, has little flavor.
Dr. Okafor said a renal diet avoids foods with too much sodium, phosphorus, and potassium. Blueberries, apples, pineapple, cranberries—all my new best friends.
“Eat,” Canon says, from the small table he’s set up in the corner, not lifting his gaze from his computer.
“If they gave me food instead of cardboard, I would.”
He shoots a wry look over the edge of his laptop. “It’s not that bad.”
“Oh.” I lift a forkful of the bland morsels. “Then come see for yourself.”
He rolls his eyes, but walks over to the bed and leans forward, mouth open. I shove the fork inside and watch his face closely. He grimaces before catching himself and humming approvingly. “Delicious.”
“Liar.”
He grins and bends down to kiss my lips lightly. I reach up and grip his neck, holding him, kissing him deeper. I’m in no shape for anything more, but just the closeness, the intimacy of his tongue exploring my mouth, gives me something to look forward to.
“I love you,” he whispers into our kiss.
“I love you back. You’ve been so good to me, Canon.”