“How the fuck that happen?”
“It’s the chemo and the cancer. She can’t fight off shit she used to.”
Marcus accepts his short answer and I’m glad for it. I can’t take another in-depth explanation of everything that’s wrong with Mama.
“Is—is she gon' wake up?” he asks, tearing his eyes off Mama and looking at us for the first time since he bulldozed his way into the room.
His eyes rake across Ace’s arms cradling me, and my fingers curled around the neck of his shirt.
“For sure, brodie.” Ace nods. “God don’t make no mistakes.”
It’s a good lie that Marcus needs to hear. I already saw the truth in Andy’s eyes in the emergency room because he was still learning about that good bedside manner. He didn’t need to break it down for me. It wasn’t no guarantee Mama would wake up, but I’m following Ace to the end of Planet Ace again, so I swallow the lie too.
Nurse Shelby lets out a soft hum and thrusts the visitation paperwork out toward us. “You feel up to filling this out or should I give it to—”
“Nah, I got it.” Ace shakes his head, beckoning her to us. “Marcus, me and Phat gon' get up outta here and—”
“Huh?” Marcus’ brown face turns ashen.
“Lourdes needs a break. She needs to eat, to shower, to sleep.”
“Man....” Marcus blows a breath, swiping his hands down his face. “I can’t stay up here. I—I don’t know what to do.”
My slow beating heart amps up at the thought of leaving Mama with Marcus. The last time Granny left Marcus in a hospital with Mama, he left and never came back.
Nurse Shelby’s head ping pongs back and forth between us, even though she said only two visitors were allowed in the room. She twists over to Ace, pulling the rolling table in front of him, and sitting the visitation paperwork next to the apple juice.
My tired eyes don’t know who to focus on, so they jump around to everybody—even Mama, even though she’s not awake.
Ace slides his arms from under my legs and grabs the pen Nurse Shelby’s dangling in his face. He reads the paper, mouthing the words while me and Nurse Shelby stare at his pink lips.
“I love you, Mar,” he says, scribbling onto the paper in slow strokes. “I respect you. I value you. We have our moments and shit, but I wouldneverdisrespect you on purpose. You’re the closest thing I ever had to a brother.”
Ever since I could hold on to memories, Marcus has been the only man in me and Mama’s lives. Mama didn’t believe in keeping other men around long enough for us to remember their faces, names, or have a say in the way we lived, but Ace is here now and he’s not even Mama’s. He’s mine.
“What you tryna get at?” Marcus asks.
Ace lifts his head up and hands me the pen. “Put your granny’s information down. I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as Marcus tells her what’s going on.”
“Hold up. I just got here. You need to answer me. I asked what you was tryna get at.”
I press the pen onto the paper, but it won’t move because it’s the only thing I’ve been responsible for since Ace popped into the emergency room. For the first time in my life, I forget how to spell Granny’s name.
“I’m not tryna get at nothing. I’mtellingyou that today ain’t a day for you to put Lourdes in a grown-man position.”
“I—I just worked a twelve-hour shift! I just got all the texts and calls from Bry. I just found out about all this. I ain’t even sat with this shit yet, man.”
And neither had I. I hadn’t sat with Mama’s diagnosis since the day we found out about it. I never had the time.
“Lourdes been working twelve-hour shifts since I met y’all,” Ace replies, widening his eyes. “She found her on the floor. She rode with her in the ambulance. She was next to the gurney when they rushed her in. She saw it all—too much, if you ask me. She won’t ever be the same after today and I won’t ever compare my situation to yours, but I laid up in the hospital with my mom for three days, Mar.Three days.I sat in the same clothes because a motherfucka’ was always putting me in a grown-man position when I was just a kid. You hurting her feelings again, man, but I’m not going for that shit today.”
I’ve never seen fear in Marcus’ eyes, but I see it for the first time today, floating behind the wetness that won’t go away.
“How the fuck you gon' tell me what to do with my sister?”
“Out of everything I just said—that’s what you took and held onto? That I’m trying to tell you what to do with Lourdes?”
“Don’t. Don’t try to play me right now.”
