20. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
I t happened the second week of December as Angie was getting ready to go into work. A huge clump of hair fell out of her head. Startled, she stared at it on the bathroom floor. She groaned. As she picked it up, she felt around her scalp to see where it had come from. She picked up her makeup mirror and turned around so her back was to the mirror hanging over the bathroom sink.
There it was. A bald patch on the back of her head. Even though she’d expected this, she wasn’t prepared for it. It still came as a shock. And she’d just started to feel marginally better after her second chemo treatment. The nausea and the general malaise had increased from the initial treatment but were beginning to subside.
The clump was a long lock, and she regretted not cutting her hair short before she started treatment. She couldn’t go to work yet. What happened if another clump fell out in the café? The New York State Department of Health would love to hear that. She ran to the kitchen and rummaged around in the drawer for a pair of scissors. Back in the bathroom, she cut her hair as close to her scalp as she could, dropping long locks of strawberry-blond hair into the bathroom sink. When she was finished, she studied her reflection in the mirror.
Stick to the baking.
The small amount of hair left on her head was uneven and clumpy, making her look like a six-year-old who took the matter of school pictures into her own hands.
She couldn’t go into work looking like this. She walked out of the bathroom, unable to look at her beautiful hair filling the sink. It hurt. She’d deal with it later.
She rummaged through her dresser looking for any kind of headscarf, berating herself for no forward planning as far as this was concerned. She knew at some point her hair was going to fall out. Or had it been a subconscious hope that it wouldn’t?
Finally, she pulled out a red paisley bandanna from the back of a drawer. When she was in her twenties, she went through a country–western phase and used to wear this tied around her waist. She’d no longer be able to do that. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror, she did the best she could with the scarf. At least her head was covered.
Finished, she rushed off to work.
As was her new routine, she fed the cat first and then went out front to check Java Joe’s sandwich board, not removing her winter coat just yet. As she made her way through the kitchen, Joel, Iris and Melissa took note of her headscarf, and all three cast her sympathetic looks.
Angie put her hands on her hips and decided direct was the best way. “We all knew my hair would fall out. I’m fine.” And before they could reply or say anything, she sailed out of the kitchen and through the café until she pushed through the front door and stood on the sidewalk in the freezing cold of December.
Her eyes landed on Java Joe’s sandwich board.
Our coffee’s out of this world.
“We’ll see about that,” Angie muttered, heading back in. She pulled out the sandwich board, grabbed the chalk and scribbled, Java Joe’s on another planet. Our coffee’s great.
Satisfied, she dragged it outside and set it up on the curb. Across the street, Tom stood with his arms across his chest. With a grin, he gave her a two-finger salute.
She waved and returned inside.
The café was busy, and the day flew. Angie was happy to be at work. Not wanting to push her luck, she rested several times in her office. But at the day’s end, she collapsed in her chair in her office. Joel appeared in the doorway.
“I can close up if you want to go home,” he said.
“I appreciate that, Joel, and I think I might take you up on your offer.”
“Good.”
“I’ll feed the cat and then I’ll go.”
“I’ve already fed him. See you tomorrow, boss,” he said.
As she went out the back door, she saw the cat was in his new home. Debbie had bought a plastic storage box, lined it with straw, and cut a hole in the side of it so the cat could access it. His left ear had been tipped to indicate that he’d been neutered.
Before she left work, she rang Maureen and Nadine, asking them to meet her at her house.
Both sisters were already there, parked out front, when Angie arrived home. She pulled into her driveway, and they got out of Maureen’s car and walked up to meet her at the side door. Maureen held up a black kit and said, “I found it.”
“Good.”
The three of them proceeded into the kitchen.
“Do you want coffee or tea?” Angie asked.
“No, I just had dinner,” Maureen said. “And I’m stuffed. What about you, Nadine?”
She shook her head. “It’s too late for me to drink either. I’d be awake all night.”
Maureen set her kit on the table. “Sit down,” she instructed.
Angie sat on the kitchen chair and pulled off the bandanna. As she did, another clump of hair fell off and landed on the floor.
Both her sisters looked at her cut hair, eyes wide.
“Can’t leave you alone with scissors,” Maureen teased. She opened the kit and said with a laugh, “Allan went through a phase where he wanted to save money by cutting the boys’ hair at home.”
“How’d that work out?” Nadine asked, throwing the clump of hair in the garbage.
“It didn’t. The boys were teenagers at this point and wouldn’t let their father near them.” She pulled out the hair clippers. “These have been sitting in the utility closet ever since. Never used.”
Angie sighed. “Let’s get to it.”
Maureen pulled out a black plastic apron from the kit and shook it out with a flourish before draping it around Angie’s neck.
“Angie, what did you do with all the hair you cut off?” Nadine asked.
She’d forgotten about that. “I filed it under ‘to be dealt with later’ and left it in the bathroom sink.”
“I’ll clean it up.”
“You don’t have to, Nadine.”
“I don’t mind. Where are your garbage bags?” Nadine asked.
“Under the kitchen sink.”
Nadine found one and headed to the bathroom.
Maureen selected a guide comb, attached it to the clippers, and turned them on. She looked at Angie and asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, I am,” she said. It was best to get it over with.
“It will grow back,” Maureen reassured her.
“I know.”
The low hum of the clippers was like white noise as Maureen began to roll it over her sister’s head. Angie watched as the remainder of her hair fell to the floor. Nadine appeared holding the garbage bag at her side.
“I’ll get a broom and a dustpan,” she said.
“The closet in the hall,” Angie instructed.
As Nadine swept up the hair from the floor, Maureen set the clippers down, removed a brush from the kit, and swept it over Angie’s head and neck, brushing off any stray hair. She removed the black plastic apron, shook it out, and folded it up.
Angie stood, brushing off her T-shirt. “Well?”
Nadine leaned on the broom and her chin quivered.
“No crying, Nadine,” Angie warned. She didn’t want to start blubbering.
In a shaky voice, Nadine said, “It’s just that you’re our baby sister. This stuff isn’t supposed to happen to you.” Maureen put her arm around Nadine and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“I know, I’ll be okay,” Angie said, trying to convince herself as well.
Nadine nodded and pulled herself together.
But that was life. Things happened to people that shouldn’t happen, and there was nothing that could be done about it.