Saturday, April 26, 2014
“Delores?” I looked up from the kitchen table where I sat gingerly nibbling the edge of a piece of plain toast, as my dad escorted the familiar woman into the room. Delores was sporting hot pink scrubs adorned with kittens, a jarring sight at first, but I was instantly obsessed with how proudly she wore it. Her strut had a confidence I’d long since been missing in my own. “What are you doing here?”
“New job, hun. When I saw your name on the roster, I was like ‘Oh, I know that girl!’ Figured it’s a good first assignment for me since I just saw ya’.” Delores spoke as if she had known me for years, though we’d only met a few times. Still, I had bonded with her more than with any other hospital staff member over my stays.
“So, you’re not at the hospital anymore?”
“I am. Doing both, got a teenager who’s eatin’ me outta house and home. But let me tell you, I’m lovin’ this job better already. Boss lets me pick my own scrubs, not those boring hospital blues. A girl needs a little color every once in a while!” She bopped up and down with every word, placing her bag on the kitchen table as she spoke.
I was surprised she had a kid, let alone a teenager. She looked too youthful to have lived so much. I watched her extract from her bag sterilizing pads, gauze, needles, and vials.
“How’s the nausea today? Did you have a treatment yesterday?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, before I was discharged. It wasn’t too bad yesterday, but I threw up once this morning.”
“You eaten anything yet?”
I glanced down at the nearly intact piece of toast in front of me, only a tiny bite taken from it. “Not much.”
“Honey, I know it seems twisted, but the more nausea you feelin’, the more you need to be eatin’,” Delores said, filling a syringe with clear liquid from a vial.
I wondered if she could pronounce the letter g, even though I liked her dialect without it. It was comfortable and familiar, instantly filling me with trust and assurance. “That does seem twisted,” I agreed.
She shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth, hun. You need food and energy to fight that tumor in ya head.” She put down the needle and opened an alcohol swab packet.
I pulled up my shirtsleeve so she could administer the anti-nausea medication, but she shook her head.
“Gotta get ya to bend over for this one, hun.” She stood in front of me, shot in one hand, swab in the other.
My eyes widened. “What?”
“The shot goes in your tush, hun. Needs the deep muscle.”
“My tush isn’t very muscle-y,” I stammered, stalling.
Delores smiled innocently like a shot in the ass while bent over my kitchen table wasn’t a big deal. “You ready?” she asked, undeterred.
“Um…I guess. Will it hurt?” I stood and turned my back to her. Pushing down the band of my favorite yoga pants that had never seen the inside of a yoga studio, I bared my cheek.
“A tiny pinch. You’ll be fine.”
The cold, wet alcohol swab swept a small circle over my ass, causing me to shiver. Seconds later, I felt the pinch and inhaled sharply at the pain. The cold liquid injected into me, invading my body.
“Oh wow, wrong moment to come get some breakfast.”
I turned my head to see my dad standing in the doorway, looking ten shades of red past uncomfortable. I wanted to laugh or tell him it was fine, but nothing really felt fine about today. My mind was blank and overloaded all at once.
“Ain’t nothing you hadn’t seen changing her diapers,” Delores reminded him.
My dad quickly turned on his heels and shuffled out. “Yeah, uh, Tessa, I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” he called over his shoulder.
Delores chuckled. A moment later, the needle pulled away. “There, see? Not so bad.”
Gauze swabbed the injection site and I breathed out, relieved the sharp pain had been replaced with the soft cotton. Finally, Delores returned to her supplies and I pulled my pants back to my waist.
I stood awkwardly, wanting to sit, but unable since my ass was stinging. I ran my hand through my hair, taking care to avoid where the biopsy had been done.
Delores clucked her tongue softly. “Oh, hun.”
Her voice sounded so sad that I looked at her in alarm. “What?” I croaked out, surprising myself at the raspy scratch in my response.
Her gaze was on my hand, and I followed it to see my fingers tangled with clumps of light brown hair.
“This been happening for a while?” she asked.
If anyone else had asked me this, I would have lied out of embarrassment. I’d have been irritated they even asked in the first place, and probably had a snippy reply ready for them, but not with Delores. Her words came from a place of maternal love, radiating care and kindness that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. She wasn’t teasing or prodding, only caring.
I nodded in affirmation, afraid if I spoke again, I might cry.
The truth is, I feel silly for still being so vainly attached to my hair. I’ve known that I would lose it eventually, and I also know that when treatments are over it will grow back. That’s just the nature of radiation, and after all, it’s just hair. Even still, every lost tendril was a stab to my heart. As if my femininity, what made me a woman, was being taken from me.
As if, I was losing myself. Maybe silly, but…maybe not.
“Hun, how about you let me take care of that today?” Delores asked, her voice softer than before—if that’s even possible.
I returned to the kitchen chair, positioning my offended ass cheek off the seat’s edge to avoid direct contact. “What do you mean?”
Delores shrugged, calmness to her movements that in return, calmed me, too. “I cut my boy’s hair all the time. It’d only take a few minutes to shave it off and then you don’t have to be shedding pieces of yourself all over Chicago.”
I swallowed hard, picturing a bald head. “I don’t know…”
“Hun, it’s coming off no matter what. You know that, right?” Delores was blunt, but somehow her words still came off as kind. It was an impressive feat, and it ignited a small flame in me. She suddenly became my teammate, and her support filled me ever so slightly with a strength I’d been missing.
I bit my lip, studying her gentle expression as I considered her proposal. Finally, I nodded.
She clapped her hands triumphantly. “All right, let’s do this. It’s time you got the first say about something.” She headed toward the doorway. “Fuck cancer.”
I laughed at her sudden energetic outburst, my flame growing hotter. “Fuck cancer.”
“Hey, anyone got an electric razor?” Delores called out, sticking her head into the hallway. “We ’bout to kick some cancer ass in here!”
My dad quickly brought everything she needed, his eyes on the ceiling the entire time, probably worried he’d see my naked cheeks again. This only made me laugh harder—especially when he clipped the doorjamb with his shoulder on his way out and cussed up a storm.
“Men, I swear,” Delores muttered, rolling her eyes at his retreating figure.
I waited as she put everything together, running my fingers through my hair again and again. It was still soft against my skin but had thinned dramatically. I hadn’t noticed how much until now, and my flame flickered, dampened ever so slightly.
As silly as it may or may not be, I’d miss this feeling. I’d miss my hair.
“Here we go; I have everything ready.” Delores fluffed the ends of my hair and smiled. “You’re gonna look great. You look like ya’ got a smooth head under that hair.”
“I…what?” Was that a compliment? “Is that good?”
“Oh yeah, you want a smooth head, means your mom did somethin’ right.” Delores tied a towel around my neck and plugged in the electric razor. “See, me? I didn’t know all that when I had my boy. Was just a teenager, no one told me I gotta make sure he had a smooth head.”
“What would you do if he had had a lumpy head?” I laughed even as I heard her turn on the razor. I was nervous and terrified, and a mix of other unpleasant emotions, yet Delores’s voice and storytelling distracted me.
She stood facing me, parting my few remaining hairs into smaller sections with the razor. “If? Girl, that boy’s head is like a mine field of speed bumps. Momma said I should have smoothed his head when he was a baby, rub it until it had no more lumps. Babies heads are like Jell-O, make ’em into whatever shape you want.”
“You shaped a baby’s head?” She had to be lying.
“Girl, you listening?” She put one hand on her hip. “I was supposed to, but I didn’t know, so I didn’t do it. Shoulda though, ’cause that boy is a walking mountain range.”
I laughed, enjoying the banter. “What happens if you shape it wrong?”
“I dunno, you end up with an ugly ass cone-head baby? Or maybe that little football head baby on that cartoon. Don’t do that, though—nobody wants to play sports with a baby’s head.”
Tears invaded my eyes for a new reason, my flame brighter than ever before. My insides were light and warm, and I wanted to throw my arms around Delores to thank her for bringing laughter to this ugly moment. Hell, I was laughing so hard she had to stop shaving so she wouldn’t nick my skin.
Delores joined in alongside me. When our laughter finally subsided, she was ready to get back on task. “You good, hun?”
Seamlessly, the intensity of my laughter turned serious and stoic. I wondered if she had done this on purpose. It was as if she knew laughing and crying were almost the same, and she hadn’t wanted to see my tears. A lump formed in my throat as I nodded, satiated from the strength she’d given me, but fully aware of the seriousness of this moment. “Go ahead.”
Delores eyed me as if she knew I was lying, as if she knew I wasn’t ready. No woman was.
I thought of Kyle as she turned the razor back on. He’d suggested I shave off my hair a few times. He saw me crying one day when I found too much hair on my pillow, so his solution had been simple: chop it off. If it wasn’t on my head, I couldn’t be sad when I saw it fall out. It hadn’t occurred to him I’d be sad every time I looked in the mirror or ran a hand over my smooth head.
Yet here I was, taking both his and Delores’ advice because simply put, this problem needed solving. My emotions would just need to get with the program because they were both right—this wasn’t something I could avoid.
A large lock of hair dropped past my face and I gasped, stiffening as she continued to shave my head. Keeping my head still, I glanced at the floor, or at least as far down as I could see without tilting my head.
I was surprised by the lack of hair beneath me. I knew Delores was at least halfway done because I felt the coolness on my bare skin, but I’d pictured a massive mountain of discarded hair at my feet and that just didn’t exist. There hadn’t been much left to shave off.
“All right, I’m almost done,” Delores said. “After this spot, I’ll even everything out.”
“Is there anything left?” I asked, hopeful I’d grown a thick mane impenetrable to her razor, to radiation, to cancer.
“Oh yeah, I left a big Mohawk down the middle,” Delores said.
I squawked, my eyes wide. “What?”
“Relax, I’m teasing! It’s just a lil’ peach fuzz all over. When we were kids, my sister had a lil’ mustache, and Momma said we weren’t allowed to tease her about it, so my other sister and I started calling her Peach Fuzz.” Delores laughed at the memory. “Told her it was just a cute nickname, but really, we were poking fun at her mustache without Momma knowing.”
I laughed, remembering more than a few occasions when I’d teased Elly growing up. The razor was now off, and in its place, she held a pair of scissors and was closely examining my head, I’m assuming to catch any stray hairs the razor had missed. Finally, certain she had cut them all, she stepped back and smiled.
“I used to bleach my upper lip every month before all this. Haven’t needed to lately, because it’s gone. Haven’t needed to shave my legs, either,” I mused, not having thought of it before.
I raised my hand to my eyebrows, soft and feathery, lighter than before. I wonder how long until I lose those, too.
“I wanna call that a silver lining to cancer, but—” Delores paused for a moment, tapping her finger against her jaw as if in thought.
“It’s still cancer,” I finished for her.
“Yeah.” Delores removed the towel from around my neck, wiping at a few stray hairs, and put her things down on the kitchen table. She picked up a handheld mirror and gave it to me.
I lifted it to my eyes and stared at my reflection.
Sliding a hand over the fuzzy surface of my head, I studied my new look. My scalp was white—very white. Pale with tiny brown dots of hair barely poking through the surface. Some areas had no brown at all, just completely bald. Then there was the still-healing scar where the biopsy had been.
My appearance reminded me of Frankenstein. I felt hideous. No hair. Gross scar.
Hideous.
I put the mirror down on the kitchen table and chewed the edge of my lip. Delores patted my shoulder then returned to putting her things away. I avoided eye contact with her, not wanting her to think I was upset with her. She’d actually been the best part of this, distracting me with funny stories during the worst moments, but I was suddenly worn and tired.
Finally, Delores finished packing her bag and winked at me. “At least you got a smooth head.”
I burst out laughing, and Delores quickly joined in.
At least I had a smooth head.
“I’ll be back tomorrow for your next shot. You have yourself a good Saturday; try and do something fun,” Delores instructed as she headed for the door.
I followed her out slowly, feeling self-conscious of my new hairdo—if you can call it that.
“Tessa?” My dad’s voice sounded behind me in the hallway after I closed the front door behind Delores.
I turned to him, noting the pull of his brows and frown on his lips.
“Wow.” he said, after a long exhale. “How do you feel?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Kind of tired.”
He nodded toward my head. “I remember your mom when she did that. You look so much like her right now; it’s like I’m looking at her.”
“Oh.” I touched my head gingerly, cringing. “Is it bad? Do I look okay?”
“Sunshine, you look beautiful. You always have and you always will,” he assured me, taking several steps forward to hug me tightly. “Just like your mom.”
I leaned into him, allowing the comfort to envelope me.
“Tessa?” Kyle’s voice broke our embrace.
I turned to see he’d arrived home from work and was standing in the doorway. Part of me wanted to cover my head, but my body froze under his scrutiny. “Hey,” I said, nerves shaking my voice.
“You’re beautiful,” Kyle said, greeting me with a kiss. “I love it.”
My muscles released, and I deflated into a smile, knowing the man I was so attracted to still though I was beautiful. He was my fairytale; he always would be.
My dad cleared his throat. “How about you kids go take Beast for a walk? You could use the time to talk.”
The moment my dad spoke, Beast rounded the corner barking. He knew those words well—they were his favorites.
“Oh, so that’ll wake you up?” My dad rolled his eyes as he exited the room. “Damn lazy excuse for a dog’s been sleeping in the sunny spot in the living room all day.”
Kyle smiled and pulled his jacket back on. “I’d love to go on a walk with you.”
I nibbled the corner of my lip at the idea of going outside with my new hairstyle. I opted for stalling. “Can I change first? I’m still wearing my yoga pants.”
“Sure, I’ll leash up Beast.”
I took the stairs slowly, not hurrying. I didn’t know why going on a walk felt weird. It shouldn’t. Kyle and I spent much of our free time walking, or hiking, or anything outdoors, but everything was different now that I looked like...a cancer patient.
Disrobing as I entered my bedroom, I scoured my drawers and settled on a dark pair of jeans under a flowery blouse. I tugged on a pair of boots that came partway up my shins, then finished with a brown, leather jacket I loved. Standing in front of my mirror, I surveyed my body.
Everything from the neck down was normal…me. From the neck up, not so much.
Frowning, I headed into the bathroom and brushed on a slight blush to my cheeks and some mascara on my thinning eyelashes. Stepping back, I realized the mascara was sparse because my lashes were so few. I swiped on some eyeliner as a fix, adding a little to my eyebrows to thicken them, too.
My bald head still stuck out like…a bald head.
Glancing down at my hands, I realized that all of my blisters had mostly healed. It’d been at least a month and a half since I’d been at the climbing gym. I didn’t have the strength I once had, and the idea of pulling myself up a rock wall seemed unfathomable right now.
Kyle called from downstairs, “Tessa? You ready?”
“One second!”
I rifled through some old shelves in my closet, hoping to find a scarf or bandana. I had few hair bands, as my thick hair often broke them, and I normally opted to wear it down.
“Sunshine?” My dad’s voice brought me to attention, standing in the doorway behind me with a large wooden box in his hands.
“What’s up, Dad?”
He motioned for me to follow him, and we returned to the bedroom. “I thought maybe you might want these,” he said gruffly, shoving the box toward me without looking into my eyes. That was pretty normal for him. He wasn’t one for emotion or sentiment and eye contact was all vulnerability—something he wanted no part of. “It’s nothing, really.”
Curious, I took the box from him and opened it. Inside were small triangles of thin, silky fabrics folded over a velvet lining with such care, that it practically dripped luxury.
“Are these Mom’s?” I asked, even though I recognized the scarves immediately.
“Yeah, I thought you might like them. Especially now that, uh…” he trailed off uncomfortably.
Tears stung at my eyes from his kind gesture.
“You kept these?” I examined each one, reveling in the feel of the soft silk. “I thought her stuff was donated.”
He shrugged. “Most of it was, but I kept some of my favorites. It’s silly, I know.” A flash of nostalgia washed over his face. “Your mother spent so many years collecting those. Then when she got sick, she used them to cover her head. I don’t know, I thought maybe—”
I threw myself against his large, brick chest, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and squeezing my eyes closed.
He tensed for a moment, then relaxed and circled his arms around me as well.
“Thank you, Daddy. This is…it’s perfect.”
He squeezed me tighter and kissed the top of my head. “I love you, sunshine.”
He released me and left the room, leaving me alone with my new gift. I wiped an escaped tear from my cheek as I lifted a soft pink scarf from the box. It had been one of my mother’s favorites, and I remembered it well.
I’d never known what happened to these scarves after her death. She had worn them all the time, talking about them to anyone who would listen. They were Hermès, a symbol of wealth and prosperity in her eyes. She’d spent most of her childhood in poverty, and I think it made her feel like she always had to prove her worth, and in some strange way, these did that for her. Little pieces of fabric gave her the confidence she hadn’t been able to give herself.
I hadn’t liked them for the bragging rights, but for the soft way they had complimented her pink cheeks, or for how they felt against my shoulder when she would lean close. The way they smelled like her when I would hide in her closet and drape them over my hair, pretending I was all grown up like the woman I loved.
I lifted one to my nose and inhaled, smiling when triggered memories flickered behind my eyes.
“Tessa, come here!” Her high-pitched voice carried into my bedroom where I was playing with my dolls.
“I’ll be right back,” I told my dolls as I skipped out of the room and down the stairs, finding my mother standing in the kitchen with her hands nearly elbow deep in a bowl of who-knows-what.
“Oh, good. Tessa, help me.” She was so beautiful when she turned and smiled at me that I had to pause for a moment to admire her sparkling white teeth, dazzling blue eyes, and tiny button nose that fit her face perfectly. Her skin glowed and her belly protruded slightly from under her white shirt where the existence of my future sibling was beginning to show. Her head was covered in a soft pink silk scarf, and completely bald underneath.
“What do I do?” I asked.
“My hands are dirty mixing this meatloaf; can you turn on the radio over there? We need some music in this house!” She nodded to a large boom box on the far counter.
I pulled a small wooden stool over in front of it, ambling up to reach it and pressing the power button. Music instantly filled the room, and I paused to listen to the upbeat tune.
“Do you know this song, honey?” my mother asked as I climbed off the stool and pulled it across the kitchen next to her.
I hopped up and grabbed her pants for balance, holding steady as I peeked over the counter. “No?”
“Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da,” she told me as she started singing along and swaying her body side to side.
I leaned unsteadily backward with her movement, deciding to grab the counter and climb up there instead. “That’s not a word, Mommy!” I insisted as I hoisted my bottom onto the counter and turned to face her, watching her make meatloaf as she sang.
“Sure, it is,” she said.
“What’s it mean then?”
“It means Tessa is the best little girl in the whole wide world.” She winked at me as she finished with the meatloaf and shaped it into a pan before pushing that into the oven.
“Nuh uh, you can’t trick me.” I giggled, putting my hand over my mouth to hide my smile as my mother washed off her hands.
“Don’t cover your beautiful face, darling. I just can’t go a minute without seeing my little girl’s smile.” Mommy kissed my cheek as she pulled my arm down with her still-wet hand before lifting me into her arms, her big belly bump between us.
I wrapped my legs around her back as best as I could, facing her, and proudly letting her see my smile.
“Dance with me, Tessa,” she told me, swaying with me in her arms as my one arm wrapped around her shoulder for support and the other was held tightly in hers. She bounced and moved around the kitchen with me singing loudly and I joined in when I could. I quickly got the chorus down, but hummed along to the rest.
Giggling, I leaned my head against her shoulder, feeling the ends of her soft silk against my cheek. I closed my eyes and tucked in tighter to her chest as she continued to sway along to the beat.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I lifted the soft pink scarf and wrapped it around my head the way my mother had worn it. She had had cancer twice, once when she was pregnant with Elly which went into remission after Elly’s birth, and then again, a few years later, which finally cost her life. I bit my lip at the memory.
If my mother could dance and sing with cancer, I could go outside with no hair.
Nodding at my reflection, as if to give myself permission, I took a deep breath and left to join Kyle.