The room we’re in is like a cage. I twist my hand around the rail on Mama’s bed, hoping it’s Marcus so he can explain to this white boy that we didn’t leave her burning up for three days on purpose. We ain’t neglectful like those folks they see on the news. Ace always says I’m doing my best.
I wait for Marcus to yell and tell her that’s his “fucking Mama,” but then I remember he got up and went to work this morning for the first time in a week.
“That’s my mom,” Ace replies. “Ms. Lisa, at intake, said I could come back here.”
I try to turn around, but my body won’t move because my brain’s yelling at it, telling it that if it moves enough for me to see his face, I won’t survive.
The nurse’s round face relaxes, and she waves him in like she invites strangers into patients’ rooms all the time.
“Sorry, hun.” She smiles. “Come on in. We’re trying to get Mom taken care of.”
“I understand.”
I smell him first.
It feels like it’s been so long since I got a whiff of his earthy scent because separation is funny like that.
I feel him next.
He hovers over my shoulder and drops his hand on Mama’s head, stroking the few hairs that survived chemo and radiation. She hasn’t opened her eyes since the EMTs loaded us onto the back of the ambulance so she can’t smile up at him and call him “son.”
I want to touch him so bad that my fingers tingle.
He looks up at the white boy, eyeing his white coat and stethoscope pressed to Mama’s chest. “Are you the attending or a resident?”
He sounds so sure of himself and the words he’s using—words I don’t understand. He squares his shoulders and looks at everybody in the room like he owns the hospital and he probably could.
“A resident. I’m Dr. Morris,” the boy replies. “But you can just call me Andy. Gnarly game last night, by the way. I caught it at my buddy’s. He’s from SoCal. He talks about that buzzer beater against Villanova all the time. He was there.”
“Oh yeah? What’s his name?”
Andy’s eyes dart around while he skirts around Mama’s bed in Jordans that I notice for the first time.
“Donald. He’s been following you since you were at Pittman—we both have. You’re sick, man.”
His tone volleys up and down, and it isn’t accusatory anymore. For a minute I think he forgets he’s a doctor and I forget there’s still a swarm of basketball fans that worship Ace on Earth no matter what he does. The internet and news outlets have a funny way of distorting things.
“’Preciate that, bro.” Ace folds his bottom lip under his teeth and keeps stroking Mama’s head.
The tingling in my hands gets more intense. Now they want to grab at his Lockwood athletics shirt so I can bury my face in his chest. He’s so calm that it’s contagious and my heartbeat slows.
I inhale to get another whiff of him while I wait on his next breath and word.
“After you take care of my mom, I want you and Don to come see me hoop. We play Tech next. My lady will hook y’all up with the specifics.”
Andy’s white face glows like he’s thirteen and my stomach folds because Ifeelthirteen. He looks over at me, connecting the dots, but I don’t have time to act shy because the man I hate and like has doctors fawning over him. For the first time in a while, I forget about Cheyenne, Blake, and sports reporters and melt into the calming force that’s Ace.
“That would besick, man. Wow.”
I scoff, swiping at my wet cheeks with my tingling fingers, trying to get their shit together.
“Cool. Can you explain what’s going on, Andy?”
“Oh, for sure—for sure.” Andy nods, taking a deep breath.
The death stare he gave me when I asked why Mama wasn’t opening her eyes isn’t there anymore. He’s excited to explain why Mama won’t move.
“So I was telling your girlfriend that Mrs. Hines has a major case of hyperpyrexia. Her body temperature is exceedingly high. It’s a good thing she got here when she did because this can be deadly. We’re running tests and the nurses are getting the IV drip going for her. She’s super dehydrated, man, and it looks like she’s got pneumonia. All signs are pointing to sepsis.”
