The Beamer family. The words echo in my head, a beautiful lie that feels like pressing on a bruise.
"Good morning. Gill Cleaver." A middle-aged Black man in a navy blazer extends his hand with a smile. His grip is firm. His manner is brisk but warm. "You must be Dr. Beamer."
"Woody Beamer," I say, returning the shake. "Nice to put a face with a name. This is Sanders, our son, and Lane."
Gill nods to each of them. "So nice to meet you guys. Thanks for making the drive. We are going to have a fun day."
Fun. Hmm. Not sure fun is the word, but…
"Fantastic. Is there a plan? I know Luke has dialysis, and Carly has some business stuff to do. You just tell us where you need us."
"We decided to just make it about the kids, if that's okay? I'm sure the adults will be happy for a break from the cameras. We plan to mostly get some candid film of them, and we may ask them a question or two in the moment, but we want it to show the natural process and day-to-day routine when the kids get ready for a transplant."
"That works for me." I look up at Lane, who is digging for something in her purse for Sanders.
Once he has whatever it was he asked his mom for, he bounds toward Gill and me, practically bouncing on his toes. "Can we see Luke now?"
"Yessir," Gill replies easily. "He’s getting ready for dialysis. Do you want to hang out with him while he gets set up?"
"Yes!" Sanders practically shouts, earning a quick grin from Gill.
Gill looks at us. "We can all walk down, and then Sanders can stay there for the next few hours. You guys can relax, grab a coffee, go for a walk around the campus. I can text you once we are wrapping up."
"That sounds like a plan." I realize as soon as I say it that I don't have the liberty to speak for Lane. Heat crawls up my neck, and I wish I could suck the words back and let Lane do the talking. But I can't. And she doesn't say a word.
"Alrighty. The team is ready, so let’s head that way."
I stand, brushing my hand over Sanders's shoulder, trying not to look at Lane as we follow him down the corridor.
A massive fish tank bubbles against one wall, tropical fish darting between plastic plants. The medical reality lurks at the edges with monitors beeping in the distance, the rustle of scrubsoutside the door.
"Did you see the TV in the clinic? It's huge!" Leigh bounces on her toes, her blonde ponytail swinging as she greets Sanders at the door. "They said we might be on the news."
Gill taps his clipboard as we all enter the clinic. There are four other children in the waiting area, staring at phones or the television. "Today's schedule is straightforward. We'll capture some footage of Luke's dialysis treatment, nothing invasive, just background context. Then casual interaction between the children, showing their friendship."
He smiles at Luke, whose thin shoulders straighten with importance.
Gill's warm eyes move between Carly, Lane, and me. "The story of communities coming together during the holidays is exactly what people need right now. And we hope it will highlight the importance of organ donation."
A nurse in teal scrubs appears in the doorway. "Ms. Turner? We need you to sign some additional consent forms. Will you please come with me?"
"Of course." Carly squeezes Luke's shoulder. "Be brave, okay? I'll come back in when I'm done."
Another staff member gestures to the kids. "Ready to head into the treatment room? We've got games set up for you guys."
The children follow eagerly. The door swings shut behind them with a soft click. Sudden quiet descends, broken only by the bubbling of the fish tank. Lane stands near the window, arms crossed, staring at nothing.
I clear my throat. "Want to grab a coffee?"
She doesn't look at me immediately. The pause stretches so long I wonder if she heard me at all. Finally, she meets my eyes. “I guess we're stuck here, just the two of us, until dialysis is done. Might as well make the best of it.”
"Sure."
We step into the hall, our footsteps echoing against polished floors. Every inch between us is calculated. Not too close, not too far. We couldn't look more out of sync if we'd just met on the street.
I stop at a desk to ask where the cafeteria is. She directs me to the fifth floor. The elevator at the end of the corridor dings open right away, surprisingly. I hold the door, careful not to brush against her as she steps inside.
The doors slide shut, trapping us in silver-mirrored silence.
