Dune couldn’t fully tune in. They were living week-to-week on the tiny income she earned running dirty dishes to the kitchen at the Standard, supplemented by Vivian’s social security and the tiny unemployment checks Kama had pulled in since getting fired from her last job for being “honest in the face of the bullshit.”

Dune wanted to hear Kama say something about going to find a job, followed by maybe a couple of years of updates on how she was keeping that job. Instead, every day, her mother woke up with brilliant ideas for “making moves against white supremacy;” making lists of who she was going to call and mobilize. By noon she was caught up in researching conspiracy theories online, house maintenance or a visit with a neighbor to share survival technologies for some vague, pending apocalypse. In the evening she would go to or host meetings, always meetings.

Since she’d lost Brendon, Kama had become the child on the high dive who can’t seem to jump. None of her ideas reached the point of having a fundraising plan, collaborators or anything that Dune could see as steps into reality. Dune felt for her—there was no place for the kind of grief Kama walked with. Her mother’s complaints were righteous, but righteousness wasn’t going to feed them.

The ranting rapids of Kama’s words stopped some time before Dune noticed the quiet. Her mom was still standing at the sink, but now she was silent and totally still. Too still. The light coming in the kitchen window moved more than her mother, dappling Kama’s edges.

The hair on the back of Dune’s neck stood up. “What?”

Her mother didn’t turn, didn’t move, didn’t sway. Just stood there, her back stiff, a wall between nations. Dune stood up and walked over, some deep quiet cell in her body telling her not to touch.

“Moms?”

“No, I don’t think it’s a heart attack, but something is wrong! I don’t know what it is. She won’t respond, she won’t move. Fuck oh my god I think she just wet herself! Oh god—she’s kind of crying, but otherwise she’s really still! Like, frozen! No. No! No just frozen in place! Just please fucking send someone to help us. I’m sorry, but please!”

Dune stood next to her mother, yelling into her phone, waving her hands and trying to get a response. Mama Vivian stood in the living room doorway, fists pressed to her silent mouth.

When the ambulance finally came, Kama gave no resistance as the paramedics pulled her from behind the table, strapped her to a gurney, lifted her down the porch stairs and slid her in amongst the mysterious equipment they began attaching to her as the ambulance doors closed.