Chapter 23
The next morning, I rub my hand across my head feeling the smoothness of it all being gone.
I keep my eyes closed, just touching it and accepting the way I feel about it.
Not thinking too much about what it all means, I slowly try to come to terms with the loss while knowing I might never be able to.
Just as I start to get up to get going with the rest of my life, I hear the front door open. Callahan, seeing me up, walks all the way into the bedroom and turns on the lights. He has two big bags in his hands, and a manic grin on his face.
“Good, you’re up.” He starts dumping the contents of the bags onto the bed, and wigs come pouring out. He holds up two of them and looks at me.
“I wasn’t sure if you were a Tiana, or a Naomi, and then I wasn’t sure if you wanted to look like yourself at all.
” He holds up a pink one and a gray one next, his eyes darting between the two.
“So I got Boina and Carlie.” He drops all four and picks up two more and holds them up, showing that one is braided and the other has twists.
“I also got a Marlie and Janet, not sure if you wanted to have a braided look instead.”
“Callahan—”
“Can I just say that I love that wigs have names? That’s so cool, it gives them a personality.”
“Callahan,” I hold up my hand.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, they are all human hair. Kim made sure of it.”
“A wig?”
“No, the lady at the store. She also told me to get wig glue and this band thing to make it melt, whatever that means. Oh, and edge control.”
“Callahan.”
He finally stops talking and looks at me.
“What is all of this?”
“I called Farrah, and she told me about lace front wigs. She thought that might help until you get your hair back. She said you need a buss down.”
I laugh, throwing myself back into the pillows. I never imagined him saying those words, or looking like a back-alley salesman for hair.
“Did I say it wrong?” His cheeks flush pink as he lowers his arms.
“No, baby, you didn’t. You did amazing.” I crawl towards him and gesture for him to bend down towards me. Taking him in my arms, I give him a big hug.
“Okay, good. I thought we could put one on you, and then I can take you driving. Teach you, like you want.”
“Sure, but I don’t know how to lay a lace front without it looking busted.”
“Oh,” he says, looking down at everything he bought. “Well, let me try. I’m good with my hands.” His wink causes me to laugh again.
Soon, I find myself in his bathroom with glue on my head and a blow dryer being directed at it. I can feel the heat so much more now that there isn’t anything to block it.
“Okay, now she says to add a second layer,” he says.
I watch as his eyes dart between the laptop and my head. I would help, but it’s so adorable watching him try so hard. He has already cut the lace and plucked the edges. Now he is putting it on.
“Alright, hold the part near your ear,” he says.
Slowly, we lay it all down, and then he grabs the band and puts it on to hold it while it adheres. While we wait, we watch another video about laying edges. I told him I know how to do that, but he wants to do the whole thing for me.
When we get to that part, I close my eyes like I promised so I can be surprised by the results.
“You can open now.”
“Holy shit,” I say when I look. The lace is so melted, you would think it’s just my hairline. The swirls of the edges need work, but he even used a wax stick to lay the middle part down more.
“You like it?” He has the hot comb in his hand, and his arms are crossed. He looks so serious, you would think this is his profession.
“You did so good!” I turn around and throw myself into his arms, kissing up and down his neck. He picks me up, and when the hair brushes against his shoulder, I almost cry.
When he puts me down, I turn back around to look, taking in the texture of the hair. We went for Tiana so I could have a cute, curly bob.
For a minute, just looking at it, I can almost pretend there is something underneath.
At the very least, I can look at myself in the mirror and not want to fall apart.
This isn’t who I was, but it is who I am now, and these wigs will let me play pretend until I get back to the version of myself that I want to be.
In the meantime, I can also look cute as hell.
“You’re right, this does have personality. I feel like I’m a whole new chick.” I flick my hair and turn from side to side.
“It’s pretty hot. Switch your wig up, and I have a new girlfriend.” He runs the comb at the top, making it lay flatter, then he steps back and watches me take it in.
I don’t look at myself, though. I look at this amazing man who constantly does everything in his power to take care of me.
“Thank you,” I say, taking his face into my hands. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, love. Hopefully every day for the rest of your life.”
Each time he says it, I feel like the words grow to be more and more true. Somehow, he looked at me and knew I was going to be his wife. All the time, he convinces me that he is supposed to be my husband.
“Now I have to go home and change,” I say, smacking his butt.
“Okay, I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
I start to gather my things and realize I have been here for three days. I decide to leave some of the wigs here for the next time.
He races us to the edge of the world and then parks on the side of some country road, switching out with me.
“You ready?” he asks, tossing me the keys.
“As I’ll ever be.” I catch them and slide into his seat. It’s still warm from his body, and it smells like him. Just as I thought, it’s like sliding into who he is.
When he shows me how to shift, it finally clicks in that I’ve never driven a manual car. He quickly finds that out too as soon as I try driving. Moving from gear to gear feels like trying to put a puzzle together with my eyes closed. Every time the car starts to stall, I cringe while he laughs.
“I can’t do this.” Pulling back over. I throw my hands up.
“Yes, you can. Just be patient.”
“Nah, man, this is not for me.” I start to unbuckle my seatbelt but he grabs my hand, stopping me.
“Keep trying. Once it’s my turn to learn dancing from you, I’m sure I’m going to want to quit too, and you won’t let me.”
I picture him trying to pop and lock it, and imagining how bad he is going to be gives me the drive to keep going.
It takes an hour before I’m able to handle the clutch correctly. Soon I’m sailing down the road. He instructs me on how to pick up speed and when to slow down when taking turns. I listen to him and keep close to the corners, causing me to drift. I feel like I’m in a movie as we peel down the road.
“Hell yeah!” I scream as we hit a hundred. Last time we drove, I know he was above one-twenty, but this is the fastest I have ever gone.
“Wooo!” he cries out, opening the windows.
For a moment, I’m scared for my wig, but the air just whips through it.
I can’t take my eyes away from the road to look at him, but he kisses my neck, adding to the adrenaline.
He nibbles and sucks, causing my breath to race even more.
I start to close my eyes, and that’s when I know I need to pull over.
As soon as the car stops, I grab his shirt with both hands and smash our mouths together. Getting as close as I can, my nails dig into the back of his neck, keeping him there. I don’t let go until it’s clear we both need to catch our breath.
“Want to try that in reverse?” he asks.
I throw my head back against the seat before closing my eyes and nodding. It isn’t too much later when I’m speeding backwards, trying to keep the car straight.
Once we are back in the city, we stop for food.
“You coming back over after?” he asks.
“I just left,” I say, throwing a fry at him. “Plus, don’t you ever work?”
“When I’m not with you.” He tosses one back at me. I catch it in my mouth, having practiced since our last food fight.
“Two businesses, and you still have your own work schedule. You must be rich or something.”
“I do well for myself, but I give a lot of money to my siblings. Why? You want me to take care of you?”
“You can pay for my upkeep,” I say, flashing him my grown-out nails.
“Easy, text me how much and I’ll send it to you monthly.”
I try not to be impressed by him again, but he never ceases to amaze me.
“When is your next chemo appointment?”
“Next week, and yes, you can come with me.” I don’t know why I have been fighting it up until this point. I have wanted him to come, he has wanted to come, and it’s his arms I always find myself in after it’s over.
We coordinate the day, and then soon we are splitting an apple pie slice. The only thing I haven’t lost is my appetite, and I was prepared to smoke some weed to get it back.
“You toke?” I ask him.
“On occasion.”
One smile later, and I find myself back at his place with my legs resting on his. We pass the joint back and forth while laughing at everything and nothing at all.
“Finn once hit me with a pan when he was in charge of us. It was so hard that I had the logo imprinted on my cheek. Ma came home, and he tried to say I fell asleep on it.”
“Every time you talk about your siblings, I’m so happy that I don’t have any.”
“You think that’s bad? I once used Rowan as a sled down the hill. She was so chunky, I was sure she was going to be fine. She was not.” He laughs so hard he chokes.
The fact that he finds that story funny has me staring at him.
“It honestly sounds like you guys were constantly trying to kill each other.”
“That’s just what it is to grow up with siblings. It’s a love-hate thing. You grew up with Farrah, you don’t have any stories like that?”
I grab the chip bag from the floor and munch on two large handfuls before I answer.
“We were in the same dance studio, but went to different schools, so it was only on weekends that we could hang out. The worst she ever did was paint me black. I told her I wanted to be darker like her, so that was her solution.” I giggle.
“I looked like I was trying to do Black face. My dad screamed when he saw me. He thought I was a demon.”
I hand him the chips, and he just tilts his head back and dumps them into his mouth.
“Oh yeah, and I always stole her clothes and got stains on them.” I rub my cheesy hand on my shirt, showing him exactly how.
“That’s definitely sibling behavior.”
“Yeah, after my mom left, I would have loved to have someone there all the time, though. I feel like part of the reason I live in music is because sometimes I would sit in my room for hours and just watch music videos. It became my whole personality.” I jump up and start doing the 1, 2, Step.
Still coordinated despite the fact that I’m high off my ass. It distracts me from the sting that came up at the mention of me being alone.
He claps and woots, helping to keep my mind off of it. I don’t stop, just dancing to the sound of his cheers. Once he grows quiet, I realize we actually need music.
Putting on classic, cleaning the house on Sundays, Black music, I dance around his living room to Luther Vandross.
I look at him and realize we have that old school love. That instant connection, ride or die, call in the middle of the night kind of relationship. I want him to be here when everything is said and done, and the only good thing about me left is the memories.
I beckon him to join me, my hand reaching out towards him.
He stands up and slides his way over. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I move in step with him.
We sway and shift, moving to the catchy beat.
He spins me, I dip him, we smile and stare, lost in each other’s eyes.
The green in his eyes stands starker than the brown today, and I feel like I’m looking at life itself.
That is how I would sum up Callahan. He is life, every good and scary part about being alive.
All the possibilities and adventures. Each risk you wonder if you should take.
I want him, I want to live, and I want an existence that feels this good all the time.
The way he looks at me lets me know he feels the same.
We dance that way, just lost in each other’s arms, until we start to come back down.
The whole time, I try to figure out how I’m supposed to leave this behind.
Nothing in my mind can justify not having this be every day of my life, and the woman I am today, the one forged in the fire of this disease, wants him to be her new dream.