LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Tree!” My mom reached out for me. I was so shocked by how she looked that I just stood there. Her face fell, and I shook myself out of my stupor to hug her.

      “Moms! It’s so great to see you. I missed you so much.” Hugging her felt like hugging a skeleton. My arms could have wrapped around her twice. I pulled away from the hug and looked at her closely.

      Her eyes were sunken, and her skin was pale gray rather than peachy brown. Her usually plump, round cheeks were sickeningly thin. I reached up to touch her head covered with a scarf. I rubbed my fingers over it and realized it was flat on her scalp. Her beautiful, thick hair was gone. She had always been much shorter than both me and Tiffany at five foot five, but now she seemed even shorter, smaller. My mother had always been “a looker” as they called her back in the day. It hurt me to see how much the sickness had stolen her beauty.

      She forced a weak smile, but I knew my inspection of her was making her feel awful. Somehow I’d have to find a way to act like nothing was wrong.

      “Come in, girl. Look at you. Your crazy sister said you looked like . . . Monica! Is that you?” My mom’s eyes traveled downward to Monica’s belly. “Oh my word. Look who done swallowed a watermelon seed.”

      Monica laughed, and we both followed her into the house. The house smelled like sickness—the same smell I had experienced on the few trips I made to the hospital to sit with some of the children from the village.

      Moms’s usually immaculate house was cluttered and messy. Hers was the kind of house where you could stand in the front door and see pretty much everything there was to the first floor. The small kitchen crowded by a large breakfast table. The living room with the old floor model television serving as a stand for the new television. The worn couch that Moms had reupholstered every few years for as long as I could remember.

      Upstairs, there were three small bedrooms. Unless something had changed since I left, me and Tiffany’s rooms looked like we never left. Still had the same beds, dressers, and little school desks. Tiffany’s room probably still had her New Edition posters all over the walls. As always, pictures of me and Tiffany graced the walls everywhere throughout the house.

      As I followed Moms, I realized how slow she was walking, like moving through the house took all her strength. I looked at Monica with a million questions in my eyes. She squeezed my arm and tried to smile.

      This was one of those times it was good for my best friend to be a nurse. I would be sure to have her help me ask Moms about her condition, and then I would grill Monica with more questions later. Maybe she could help me talk to the doctors tomorrow. I was sure I wouldn’t get the straight truth from Moms. In spite of how bad she looked, I knew she’d try to gloss it over and assure me that she would be fine.

      “Tree, you hungry?”

      I started to say no until I felt the grumbling in my stomach. I realized it had probably been a good eight hours since I had eaten.

      Moms looked at my droopy jeans. “They ain’t got no food over in Africa? Girl, you skin and bones.”

      Look who’s talking. “The food is different over there, Moms. Plus we walked almost everywhere we went. Got a lot of exercise.”

      “Well, I knew my baby was coming home, so I had Aunt Penny come over and cook. We got a real welcome home feast for you.”

      She started taking covered dishes out of the refrigerator. It pained me to see her get short of breath as she carried the dishes to the counter. I knew it would hurt her feelings if I offered to help.

      Monica walked over to the refrigerator. “Let me get that, Ms. Michaels. You sit down and visit with Trina. You guys have a lot of catching up to do.”

      I could have kissed Monica. She winked at me when Moms turned her head.

      Moms came over to sit down with me at the kitchen table. I remembered the bills I had been clutching since I came in the door. “I got the mail. It looked like it was about to spill out the box.”

      My mother looked down at the pink envelopes and late notices and grabbed them out of my hands. “Thanks, Tree. I’ll just put them in the drawer over there.” Her eyes didn’t meet mine. When she sat back down, she reached across the table and grabbed my hands. “So tell me about Africa.”

      My heart warmed a little at the sparkle still in her eyes. Typical Moms. We weren’t going to talk about the big, stinky elephant in the middle of the room. Her question made me know I wasn’t to ask about her health or the bills. I was to tell her about my journey, and we were all supposed to act like nothing was wrong.

      As I recounted some of my experiences in Mozambique, she stared at me, eyes wide with wonder. A few times she reached over and pulled her fingers through my afro. She smoothed her hand across my cheeks and squeezed my leg. She kept touching me like she couldn’t believe I was sitting in front of her. At one point, I could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

      “What’s wrong, Moms? Are you in pain?”

      She sat back and waved away my fears. “Of course not, Tree. I’m just so proud of you. I can’t believe everything you did. You sacrificed so much to help those people over there. Our people. You make a mother’s heart proud.” Her voice choked up, and tears spilled from her eyes. “You make me feel like I’m leaving an awesome legacy.”

      I felt a knot rise in my throat. “Eventually you will, Moms. But you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

      She chuckled. “How you figure? They got cures for cancer over in Africa?”

      “As a matter of fact, they do.”

      The microwave dinged and Monica opened it and pulled out a plate heaped with food. The smell of down home, southern cooking filled the room. Even before she brought the plate over, my nose told me there were collards seasoned with pork, candied yams, sweet corn, and fried chicken on that plate. “Goodness, Monica. That’s enough to feed a tribe.”

      She looked down at the plate. “I figured you must be hungry.” She brought it over to the table.

      I pushed the plate over between me and my mother. “You guys have to eat some of this with me.”

      Monica shook her head. “I pretty much eat only organic food.”

      I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. I respected her wanting to be healthy, but it seemed crazy to be picky about food when people were starving in other parts of the world.

      Moms pushed the plate back over to me. “Ain’t got much appetite these days. Chemo done messed up my taste buds.”

      I pushed the plate back toward her. “Please try to eat a little bit. For me?”

      Moms smiled and picked up the fork Monica had set on the table. I wished I had brought enough clothes with me to stay for a month. Maybe if I lived here and made her eat and encouraged her spirit, she’d get better. I knew people with positive attitudes fared better with illnesses like cancer.

      Monica walked toward the kitchen door. “I think I’m gonna step out to the grocery store and see if I can find something I can eat.” I knew she was giving me and Moms some time to talk. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

      I walked her to the front door. “Be careful.”

      “Girl, I know these streets. I’ll be fine.” She lowered her voice. “You okay?”

      I nodded my lie, and she gave me a hug before walking out the door.

      I went back and sat down at the table with my mom, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead.

      “So tell me about this cure, Tree.” My mother looked skeptical already. “Some tree bark or roots they got over there?”

      “No, actually it’s the power of God. You wouldn’t believe—”

      She put the fork down, pursed her lips, and rolled her eyes. “Tree,

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