Dany
Four women stand before me bald as badgers. Their heads gleam in the kitchen light. Now it’s my turn.
“Should I be this nervous?” I ask.
Matilda gently pushes me down into the kitchen chair and wraps a towel around my shoulders.
“Nerves are for losers and wusses,” says Cleopatra.
I wink at her and she scowls back. Warmth fills my chest at the wonderful familiarity of that scowl.
Sylvie is in charge of the razor. It’s an electric shaving device that we picked up at the drug store on the way over.
She comes toward me and the razor starts its low droning buzz. I swallow a mouthful of wine.
The room is delightfully fuzzy around the edges, with a happy muted glow. There’s a pile of hair at my feet, all different shades. Sylvie’s mahogany with streaks of steel gray. Matilda’s honey brown. Cleopatra’s jet black. Gerry’s silver-tinged white. My hair will soon join. I take a deep reinforcing breath and another swallow of wine.
Then I lift my wine glass. “To us. To bald heads and friendship.”
“To friendship,” says Matilda.
“To baldies and friends,” says Gerry.
“Bah,” says Cleopatra.
“To us,” says Sylvie.
We all clink glasses. Well, except Sylvie. She’s holding the razor.
I take a drink, then set my glass down.
The razor tickles as Sylvie runs it along my scalp. I watch as my straw-colored hair, wavy and fine, drifts to the floor. It circles and spins and floats. I’m mesmerized watching it fall away.
Matilda turns on music.
Heavy beats start pumping from her phone.
“You have got to be kidding,” I say.
Matilda gives me a sweet, mischievous smile. Her hands come up in small fists and she starts pumping her arms in front of her. Her feet glide across the floor and she does the moonwalk.
This is one of my favorite eighties songs of all time. The heavy bass and drums are irresistible.
“Oh yeah,” says Gerry. She’s in a baby blue sequin velour tracksuit. She turns around, puts her hands on her hips, and starts to shake her behind.
“I’m not drunk enough for this,” says Cleo.
Matilda dances up to her. “Come on, Cleo.” She pumps her fists and circles around her.
Sylvie sings the lyrics in a high soprano. She runs the razor over my head and the last of my hair falls away. She whips off the towel and shakes it out. Hair flies over the room. Sylvie bends over and picks up the pile of hair and throws it in the air. It flies around us like confetti.
I start to laugh. Then sneeze. Then laugh.
Sylvie jumps up and down.
Matilda moonwalks past me.
Gerry bumps her swinging hips into Cleopatra.
“Humph,” says Cleo. “Have it your way.”
The girls stop as Cleopatra begins to dance.
Her mouth is pursed up. She’s glaring at each one of us. Then her shoulders start to rise in time to the music. She puts a hand behind her head and bends her elbow back and forth. Her other arm she sends out and points around the room at each one of us. Her feet are tapping. Her hips are swinging. Then she breaks it down and she does…I don’t know what she does…but she’s dancing like I’ve never seen anyone dance before. She’s a rock star.
There’s no movement except Cleo and the falling hair.
Then we’re released from our shock.
“Yeah, Cleo” says Gerry.
Matilda laughs and the girls begin to dance.
I sit in the chair watching. And I realize, this is it. I see my life before, and I see it now. Before, I’d never dance in front of people.
Now…
I’m not dancing in front of them, I’m dancing with them.
It’s like my whole life has been building toward dancing to eighties music with the people I love.
I jump up and start rocking the Cabbage Patch.
We’re kicking up hair, jumping around the kitchen like lunatics. I grab Matilda and we swing around in a circle. Gerry and Sylvie are doing the jitterbug, and Cleo is rocking down the house.
The kitchen is full of music, laughter, and I realize this is one of the happiest moments of my life. It wasn’t on my list. It just popped up. Spontaneously. And I’m so grateful.
The music ends.
“You know what this means?” I ask.
“More wine?” says Gerry.
“Group hug,” I say.
Cleo groans as I grab her, Matilda, Gerry, and Sylvie and pull them in.
“I love you guys,” I say.
“Humph,” says Cleo.
I burst out laughing.
Then, all that dancing and bouncing and wine and chemo… “I think I need to vomit. I’ll be back.”
After I do, I wash out my mouth and come out of the shell pink half bath near the kitchen. Matilda is waiting in the hall.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
She’s wearing another of her fanciful cat T-shirts and black leggings. “I don’t think I’ve ever been better,” I say.
She nods and we sink down to the wood floor of the hallway and rest our backs against the wall.
I take her hand. She’s skinnier than when I first saw her.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She looks over at me and smiles. There is warmth and mischief in her eyes. “Oh, yes.”
We sit against the wall in silence. Just holding hands.
“Is Steve alright with all this? Did he take it well?” I ask, wondering how Matilda’s husband took her diagnosis. Surely not as badly as Shawn did. Was he more like Jack? Hmm, Jack.
“Oh, he was wonderful,” says Matilda. She’s quiet and her eyes go slightly unfocused. Too much wine. “He’s the love of my life. Did I tell you we’re going on our second honeymoon when all this is over?”
I’m staring at a crack in the opposite wall, tracing it up and up. “What? Oh, right. You did. I’m so happy for you.”
She squeezes my hand.
I smile down the lump in my throat.
“It must feel amazing to have someone love you so much,” I say.
“I’m glad you’re my friend,” she says. She rests her head on my shoulder. “Sometimes, life’s worst moments bring the best…” She drifts off and I realize that she’s crying.
I shake my head. “Don’t cry,” I say. “Don’t cry.”
“Humph,” she mimics Cleopatra. “I can cry if I want to.”
I laugh and squeeze her hand back. A warmth rushes through me.
“I’m glad you’re my friend too,” I say.
And I am. So glad. I can’t imagine if I kept myself closed to them like I wanted to that first day of chemo. If I stayed closed up I wouldn’t have my friends. I wouldn’t have any of this.
Finally, I stretch my legs. I’m cramping up on the hardwood floor.
“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. We have to make sure Cleopatra doesn’t murder Gerry.” I pull up Matilda and we walk arm in arm back to the party.
Jack is seated at the kitchen table.
He’s facing off against Gerry and Cleopatra. Even Sylvie has her arms folded across her chest. The tension is thick.
Oh no. It’s a clash of my two worlds and it doesn’t look like it’s going well.
“What’s your answer?” asks Gerry. She jabs her finger at Jack. I close my eyes, worried
I’m about to witness some carnage.
“We’re waiting, punk,” says Cleopatra.
Oh my gosh. What the heck happened in here? I was gone maybe five minutes.
I look at Matilda. She widens her eyes and shakes her head. She has no idea.
“Guys,” I say, attempting peacemaker.
Sylvie shushes me.
“What?” I ask.
Jack looks at me and winks. I realize this is the first time he’s seen me without my hair. Bald as a baby. He gives me a bedroom smile and it hits me down low deep in my belly. I bet he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
I shoot him a Cleopatra scowl.
“Come on already, Jackie-boy,” says Gerry.
“I can visualize a niche market for the uniqueness of the product,” says Jack.
What? What is he talking about? I look around the room in confusion.
Sylvie is nodding in agreement, while Gerry is shaking her head no.
Jack continues, “However, I would say that the return on investment would be too low to market human hair hats.”
“I told you,” says Cleo. She jumps up and does a quick chicken dance. “In your face.”
“Phooey. I thought you were a nice young man,” says Sylvie.
“Sylvie, you’re off your rocker,” says Cleo.
“Therefore,” says Gerry, “by impartial judge, the hair goes in the garbage and not in Sylvie’s knitting bag.” She sweeps the cuttings up and tosses them in the kitchen trash.
“Oh, botheration,” says Sylvie, but she’s laughing good-naturedly.
I look at Jack with trepidation. What does he think of my friends? What can he think of their uniqueness?
He catches my eye and winks again. He’s laughing. Not at them, but with them. With me.
At that moment, while I stand there bald and smiling, I realize that he likes me, even wants me, without my mask, just as I am. He doesn’t see anything to fix. He thinks I’m perfect just as I am.
The realization crashes into me. I sit down hard at the table.
“Now the next question,” says Gerry.
Jack winces. “Now, now, it’s not right to ask a gentleman—”
“Where’s a gentleman?” asks Cleo.
“Ouch, burn,” Gerry says.
Jack laughs. “Alright,” he says. “Although, you are all stunning and it’s nearly impossible to choose…”
I realize that they’ve roped him into saying who looks best with a bald head. Goodness. Poor guy.
“As a big brother, if my sister is in the room, I’m obliged to say that she’s the prettiest.”
“Aww,” says Sylvie.
I turn around. Sissy is wide-eyed at the entry to the kitchen.
“Humph, wily as a fox,” says Cleo.
“Sissy,” I call happily.
“Seriously, awesome,” says Sissy as she takes in the empty bottles and the bits of hair.
“Who wants pizza?” asks Jack. “I’m ordering Jets.”
And in one fell swoop, Jack has the entire room in love with him.
“He likes you,” whispers Matilda.
I look at Jack from the corner of my eyes. He’s watching me. I’m happy. Truly, truly happy.
“I want pepperoni and sausage, no, meat lovers, double cheese,” I call. “I usually have salad pizza,” I explain.
“Salad pizza?” gags Sissy. “Is that lettuce on a crust?”
I nod.
She fake gags again. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Exactly,” I say.
I pull up a seat for her at the table and she joins in the laughter.
I can feel the heat of Jack’s gaze on me for the rest of the night.