“It’s one of the chemo drugs they gave him.” Bugz’s mom spoke up, appearing not to see anything except for the patch of hospital blanket immediately in front of her. “A really bad side effect. They switched the drug, but who knows at this point.” She teared up and inhaled deeply. “Sing, Bugz. Sing that healing song you know.”

Bugz looked to her feet and searched her memory. After a breath, her sharp, melodic voice cut through the stale, tense air in the hospital room. “Eniwek igo kiga’onji-pimaadiz ndiwe’igan…,” she began. Through my drum you will live just that much more. Bugz belted out the prayer song, absolutely shredding the air with a voice as clear and beautiful as it was pristine in its intention to make her brother well again. “Hey ya wey, ya eh, ya ho, we yo ho wey…” She punctuated each vocable with a burning desperation. Perhaps if she nailed this song, the Creator would have mercy on her brother. She sang the song four times through, more loudly and soulfully with each repetition.

When Bugz finished, the song’s melody seemed to reverberate in the air for a second. Soon enough, though, it dissipated, leaving those assembled, including Waawaate, in silence. He did not move. His EKG pulsed. Finally, he stirred and woke slowly. Tears flowed to the brim of Bugz’s eyes but did not fall down her cheek. Her eyes reddened. Through my drum, you will live just a little bit longer.

Bugz’s father smiled. “Waawaate, you’re a heck of a warrior, my boy.”

“I could hear Bugz singing.” Waawaate stretched with some effort. “Off-key.” He laughed, and everyone else smiled.

“I’d tell you to shut up if you weren’t so weak,” Bugz replied, a genuine look of happiness spreading across her face.

“Still strong enough to take you out, even in the ’Verse.” Suddenly, Waawaate grimaced.

“What’s the matter, son?” Bugz’s mother asked.

“Nothing, I just have no energy. Just talking and moving around, I feel totally—” He started to wheeze, and lost himself to a fit of dry coughs.

The nurse rubbed his back. “I’m going to see if we can give you something else to help with the pain.” Waawaate nodded with his eyes closed as she exited the room, leaving the Holiday clan in silence.

Bugz’s dad finally spoke. “You gotta watch that stuff. It can take you out. Too many painkillers.”

“I tell you what, I never thought I’d say this, but that doesn’t sound so bad right now,” Waawaate responded. The smile disappeared from Bugz’s face.

Her mother sighed and brushed the hair from Waawaate’s forehead. “Don’t talk like that, baby. You’re fighting this and we’re going to help you. But you’ve got to have hope.”