What's Left of Me (19 page)

“Better.”

“Good.”

We stand there awkwardly for a couple of minutes.
 
I start to laugh at the silliness of this.
 
This is exactly why I left that morning after we met.
 
To avoid the awkward feeling of goodbye.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me.
 
Please.”

“It’s just … this is what I was trying to avoid the first time.
 
It’s just as awkward saying goodbye now as it would have been then.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it, Aundrea.”
 
And with that, he pulls me into his hold.
 
Leaning down he gives me a soft peck on the lips.
 
“Goodbye, Aundrea.
 
I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I think so.”

He gives me one more kiss on the top of my head before letting me go.
 
“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.”

He heads to the door, but before opening it, he gives me a wink.
 
Then he’s gone.

I shake my head at the situation, and laugh at the thought of Genna being camped out by my door all night.
 
I’m thankful it’s Parker who has to face her first.

It hasn’t even been two minutes since I heard Parker saying his goodbyes to Jason that Genna is barging in my room.

“Aundrea!
 
What was that last night?”

“Nothing.”
 
I roll my eyes and walk toward my dresser, taking my wig off as I do.
 
“We just fell asleep.
 
Nothing happened.”

I look back at her disappointed face.
 
“Nothing?
 
Not even a kiss?”

“No.”
 
I laugh. “It’s not like I was feeling 100% myself, Genna.”
 
I continue to laugh as I grab my clothes and walk to the bathroom to take a shower.

Once I’m behind the closed door, I sit on top of the closed toilet seat to catch my balance.
 
My knees feel as if they’re about to give out.
 
It feels like there’s glass grinding behind my kneecaps with every step, making it difficult to move.

Taking calming breaths, I reach for the top drawer, grabbing the clippers I saw in there when I first moved in.
 
There is nothing worse than taking a shower and pulling out clumps of hair or watching them stick to your wet body.
 
Even though my hair is already short, it’s thick.

Turning on the clippers, I bring them to my head.
 
I hesitate at first, but then push the thoughts back and blindly buzz my hair, starting at my forehead and pulling backward.
 
I don’t give myself any time to think about what I’m doing.
 
I just keep moving my hand, letting the hair fall freely to the floor.

It’s surprising how going through this before has changed how I handle it now.
 
Like, it doesn’t even faze me.
 
As much as I miss my hair and want it back, I’m at the point where I just want it all to be over with.
 
The quicker everything happens, the quicker I can move on with my life.
 
I’m tired of constantly feeling as if I’m reliving my past.

I turn the clippers off, setting them on the counter with a shaking hand.
 
I need to shave the rest, but I’ve yet to be able to shave my own head.

Opening the bathroom door, I holler, “Genna!
 
I need you a minute!”

Within seconds, Genna is walking into the bathroom.
 
One look and her hands are covering her gasping mouth.
 
“Dre,” she whispers. “What did you do?”

“It started falling out this morning.
 
I need you to shave the rest.
 
I can’t do this part.”

“Dre …”

“Genna, please.
 
You know I can’t shave the back.
 
I need it all gone.”

“I don’t know …”

“Please.”
 
I hate begging.

“Okay.”

I straddle the toilet.
 
Genna moves in behind me after she takes out a new razor and shaving cream to finish the job.

I wait for her to lather up the shaving cream, but she doesn’t move.
 
After a few more quiet seconds, I reach for it.
 
Pouring some in my hands, I lather it over my buzzed head, covering every inch.

“There.
 
Now shave.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t move.
 
You could hear a pin drop.

“Genna, it’s easy.
 
Pick up your hand, bring the razor to my head, and start shaving.
 
You can’t mess it up.
 
Just take it off.”

“But …”

“For fuck sakes, Genna.
 
Shave my damn head.”

She lets out a squeal of frustration before finally bringing the razor to my head.
 
I feel her making straight slow strokes from my forehead to the nape of my neck.
 
She takes her time as if she’s creating a piece of art rather than taking off hair.

Genna shaves my head in silence.
 
She only watched my mom shave my head once and, as I recall, she only made it halfway through the first time.
 
She walked out crying because she couldn’t stand the sight of it, saying something about it being too difficult to watch.
 
I didn’t blame her.
 
I couldn’t stand it either.

But this time I need her, and she knows it.

Once she’s done, she sets the razor on the counter next to the sink and walks out without a word.
 
I make my way to the mirror and stare at the unrecognizable person in the mirror.
 
The shiny, pale skin that is now displayed makes me disgusted with myself.
 
The pasty tone doesn’t match my normal complexion, and it makes me look a lot younger than I am.
 
My lips look more chapped than I remember.
 
My ears stick out farther than I thought, my eyebrows look misplaced, and my eyes suddenly seem to sit much farther apart. Even my eyelashes look thinner.
 
I don’t recognize the woman looking back at me.

She’s not me.

She’s a stranger.

“Good morning!” Shannon chirps in my ear as I pour a cup of coffee.

I want to groan in response.
 
I’m exhausted.
 
My head is pounding for no apparent reason besides trying to annoy me further.
 
The joints in my hands and knees have been keeping me up, causing me to toss and turn all night in hopes of getting the pain to subside.
 
It never did.

I was given a prescription of Percocet for pain and Robaxin to relax my muscles just before my bone marrow procedure.
 
Dr. Olson informed me that I might need them during chemo and to call if I needed a refill, but I never use them.
 
Narcotics and I don’t mix well.
 
My body becomes light, my vision comes and goes, and it makes me feel as if I’m having an out of body experience.

Putting on my fake smile and the same chirping voice as Shannon, I reply, “Morning! How are you?”

“Great.
 
How have you been doing?”
 
She lowers her voice, even though we’re alone, and becomes serious.

I want to roll my eyes.

“I’m doing fine. Thank you.”

“You changed your hair.”

I had to change it out to a different wig once I shaved my head because I no longer have hair to clip it onto.
 
There is a special double-sided tape I can use to keep the wig on, but it never works.
 
At some point, the wig slides or shifts.

“Yeah, I had to.”

“I like it.”
 
She nods her head in approval as she looks the style over.

“Thank you.”

This wig is the same length, for the most part—maybe a little shorter—and dark brown, with some auburn mixed in.
 
I love the color.
 
I also have side bangs.
 
It’s a new style, and Genna assured me everyone will think I just got it cut and colored.

I play off the new look to some of the girls as they give compliments on the color and style.
 
I politely give them my thanks and hurry away before they get too close, noticing something off about it.

Shannon and I leave the break room, coffees in hand, making our way to the front desk.

“I just want you to know, I never told Bryn about your cancer.
 
Despite what she may imply, she doesn’t know anything about it.
 
I’ve been meaning to tell you that,” she says as she switches the phones from the overnight message to on.

“Thank you.”
 
I give her a smile.
 
It makes me feel a lot better that she doesn’t know.
 
She’d be the one to tell Parker and that would ruin everything.

After settling behind the desk she tells me I’ll be helping her for the day.
 
I’m thankful Jason is done with the conversion to electronic records because I don’t think I could stand looking at another computer screen.

I pull out my backpack to put my phone away just as the side door opens and Parker and Bryn walk in together.
 
He must have said something funny because he’s smiling wide and she’s laughing.
 
Her laugh is high-pitched and annoying, reminding me of the hyena from
The Lion King
.

I roll my eyes.

He holds the door open as she walks through.
 
I watch as she starts down the hallway toward the back.
 
She has on tight black dress pants and a pink and purple sweater.
 
Her hair is pinned up with loose curls falling down, framing her petite face.
 
She’s beautiful, and I’m annoyed with myself for thinking so.

When I take my eyes off her back, I notice Parker looking at me.
 
He still has a small grin on his face.
 
I can’t tell if it’s from his conversation with Bryn or if he’s happy to see me.

“Good morning, Parker,” Shannon calls out.

“Good morning, ladies,” he says, looking at me.
 
I roll my eyes at him.
 
I’m not jealous,
I tell myself.
 
He is free to laugh with other girls.

His eyes roam over my face and hair, and suddenly I’m not thinking about him and Bryn laughing, but rather him noticing my hair change.
 
I run my hands over my hair self-consciously.
 
When I don’t say anything in return, he turns and walks down the hall.

“What was that?”

“What?”

“That.
 
You and Parker.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.
 
Why didn’t you say anything to him?”

“I didn’t know I had to.”

“Aundrea, is something going on with you two, because you know nothing is going on with him and Bryn, right?
 
Yes, she likes him, but from what I’ve heard, he told her he doesn’t like her that way.”

I shrug and start answering phones.
 
I don’t care if he likes her or not.
 
We’re not together.
 
He’s free to talk, date, and laugh with whomever he wants.
 
I’d just prefer him not to flaunt it in front of me.

The morning moves along at a snail’s pace.
 
I watch the clock turn with every passing minute, waiting for the day to be over.
 
My head starts to pound after the fifth dog comes in, barking so loudly it causes all the animals in the back to go crazy, and Shannon has to bring the pet owner and the dog immediately into the exam room in hopes of calming the other animals.
 
I take that opportunity to go back into Jason’s office where it is quiet and rest my head.

I’m just about to doze off when the door opens.
 
Can I ever just be left alone?

“Hey, you okay?
 
Shannon said you came back here,” Jason asks.
 
I’m thankful he doesn’t turn the light on.

“I just have a headache.”

“Do you need something?”

“Nah.
 
I’ll be okay.
 
Sorry, I’m not much help at the moment.”

“Nonsense.
 
Every little bit helps.”
 
He comes over to me, bending down and resting his hand on my upper back.
 
I keep my head in my hands, afraid to move.
 
I know I need to take a pain pill, but I don’t want to move for my purse.

“You sure you’re okay?”