"Yes! The #SaveChristmas challenge,” Hannah says, eyes shining. “It’s where people do something kind for someone else to remind everyone what the season’s really about. But your son and his friend just raised the bar. They’re asking the world to come together so this boy can get his kidney.”
"I'm in shock. I don't really know what to say right now."
She lowers her voice, like even she can’t believe it. “People are sharing it like crazy. The comments are full of folks begging to donate, asking where they can send money. News outlets are already picking it up.”
Everyone knows about this before me?
My fingers curl into my palm as I reach for my phone, wondering exactly what my ex-husband has gotten our son involved in, and why I'm learning about it from my coworker instead of either of them.
I snatch my phone up, fumbling to unlock it. Five missed calls from Woody. Three text messages.
"It's insane, Lane," Hannah insists, perching on the edge of my desk like she's settling in for story time as she scrolls and I spiral.
My brow furrows, and the metallic taste of panic coats my tongue as I scroll through Woody's texts.
Need to talk ASAP. Call me.
Sanders put up a video on social media, and it's taken off.
He's gone viral. Don't freak out.
I exhale slowly, trying to reconcile the image of my quiet, rule-following nine-year-old with this idea of viral fame. Saturday morning flashes through my mind—Sanders at the kitchen table, milk dripping from his spoon as he gestured with enthusiasm.
"Mom, can we do something big for #SaveChristmas?"
The guilt prickles sharply behind my ribs. I'd brushed him off, told him we'd talk about it after his weekend with Woody.
"See?" Hannah swipes to another video. "Your ex-husband is in this one, too. He's explaining Luke's medical situation."
My heart drops at the sight of Woody in his white coat, looking so damn doctorly and responsible. His voice flows with that perfect balance of authority and compassion that used to make my knees weak.
"Luke needs a kidney transplant," video-Woody explains. "But insurance won't cover housing for his family during recovery. That's where we come in."
We?When exactly didwedecide this?
Another video plays. This one is of Sanders and the sick boy distorting their faces with one of those Snapchat filters Sanders loves so much. Their voices blend: "It's Luke Turner's Turn!"
The protective mom in me surfaces immediately, instincts sharpening. My son's face, hisname, splashed across the internet without my knowledge or consent. And yet, the way his eyes shine with purpose, the genuine care in his expression as he looks at his new friend...
I straighten in my chair, forcing a wry smile. "Can you let me see the original one, the one that blew up?"
Hannah hits play, and the sound fills our little corner of the insurance office. The fluorescent light above my desk flickers as I bend closer to the screen, my entire focus narrowing to the small rectangle in her hand.
"Hi, I'm Sanders Beamer," my son's voice rings out, clear and strong, that little Southern lilt he gets when he's excited. "And this is my new friend, Luke Turner."
My heart pounds against my ribs. There he is, my boy. His cheeks are flushed pink, eyes bright with that earnest determination I know so well.
But it's the child beside him that makes my breath catch. Thin, almost translucent skin stretched over hollow cheeks. His little lips are dry, and a plastic tube snakes from beneath his sleeve.
"Luke needs a kidney transplant," Sanders continues, his hand resting casually on Luke's shoulder like they've been friends for years. "He's next on the list for Duke, but his mom can't afford to stay in Durham for his recovery."
Luke nods, a crooked half-smile revealing slightly yellowed teeth. "I've been on dialysis for almost a year." His voice is softer than Sanders', but surprisingly steady. "Four days a week, three hours each time."
Sanders leans forward, suddenly intense. "He shouldn't have to be stuck to machines four days a week." The conviction in his voice forces a lump in my throat and tears to well in my eyes. God, he sounds like me when I'm fighting with the insurance company over a client's claim.
"So we're going to use the #SaveChristmas challenge to help," Sanders grins, confidence radiating through thescreen. "Every dollar helps Luke's family afford the housing they need." His face splits into that goofy smile that melts me every time. "Use the hashtags #GetLuke2Duke and #ItsLukeTurnersTurn!"
The video ends with both boys flashing peace signs, Luke's thin arm trembling slightly with the effort.
