Chapter Four Portland, OR 1999
Chapter Four
Portland, OR
Chrissie came back to the hospital every day for three weeks.
Not always to see Scarlett, of course. In fact, she almost never came to see Scarlett, but Scarlett would beg and plead until Chrissie had no choice but to pop into her room from the family center or cafeteria or, as was most often the case, her brother’s room at the end of the hall.
“I saved you my Jell-O cup from lunch,” she’d say as she handed over that day’s offering—orange or lime most of the time, but sometimes strawberry, which was ultra rare and therefore everyone’s favorite.
“Wanna play checkers with me? Or you could climb into my bed and we could watch the Disney Channel together.”
Most of the time, Scarlett’s tricks worked.
With her brother almost always asleep and her parents busy with his doctors, Chrissie was free to play as many games as she wanted, her face screwed up in concentration as she plotted out her next moves across the checkerboard.
They rarely talked about anything—or at least, Chrissie rarely talked—but Scarlett was happy to fill in the gap.
She was quick to learn which topics were safe (Chrissie played the piano and loved the ocean, her allegiance torn equally between the two) and which were dangerous (her parents, her brother, her brother, her brother).
“Is Chrissie coming to visit today?” she asked Nurse Penny after two long, boring days had passed without even a glimpse of her. “I’m going home soon, and I want to make sure I give her my phone number before I leave. We’re gonna hang out and visit the ocean together once I’m all better.”
That was when the worst possible thing happened. Nurse Penny smiled.
“I’m afraid she won’t be coming back, Scarlett,” the nurse said. She put one of her hands on Scarlett’s leg and gave it a friendly squeeze. A lot of the other nurses had cold hands, but Penny was always warm, like her heart worked overtime.
Today, all Scarlett wanted to do was kick that hand away.
She didn’t do it, but she was awfully close, her muscles bunched up and ready for action. So much about her life was unfair—the cancer, the loneliness, the fact that she only had a grandma instead of two parents like the rest of the kids—that she made a vow right then and there.
When she was grown up, she was only going to do the things she wanted.
“What do you mean, she’s not coming back?” Scarlett demanded. A weird blip sounded from the machine attached to her bed, but she ignored it. “She has to. She promised.”
“Why don’t we focus on you for today?” Penny suggested, still with that smile full of lies.
“You’re going home, remember? Your Hodgkin’s is in remission.
You’ve been working so hard to get to here that it seems a shame not to celebrate a little.
I might even be able to steal you an extra strawberry Jell-O cup from the cafeteria. ”
Scarlett recognized a bribe when she heard one.
“I’m not celebrating without her,” Scarlett said, and then the worst possible thing happened.
Her lower lip started to tremble. She didn’t want to cry in front of Nurse Penny, but she could already feel the fat, hot tears starting to build up.
“Call her mom. Call her dad. Give them my phone number. If you don’t, I’ll rip my IV out. Just watch, and you’ll see.”
Nurse Penny gave her a look that was so full of sympathy that Scarlett almost ripped out her IV anyway.
She had no use for sympathy. It didn’t play games with you or let you brush its long, silky hair.
It didn’t teach you to play ‘Chopsticks’ on a whining, half-broken game room keyboard with only half its working keys.
It also didn’t smile all lopsided-like at your jokes because it was trying hard not to laugh.
“I can leave a message with the front desk, but that’s the best I have to offer,” Penny said. “If she and her family want to reach you, they know where to look.”
And that was it. Penny spent a few seconds updating Scarlett’s records on the computer before promising to return with the Jell-O.
“Oh!”
Scarlett heard the squeak of Penny’s shoes coming to a stop just outside her door.
“What on earth happened to your—Oh. Oh, I see.” She paused. “Go on in, hon. And if you need anything—anything at all—you just ask. We’re so sorry about your loss.”
Scarlett barely registered this last part. She was too busy holding her breath, terrified to empty her lungs in case she was wrong about who was standing on the other side of that door. But when a shy, scared head poked in, the air came out in a glorious whoop.
“Chrissie! I knew you’d keep your promise. Penny said I’d have to leave a note for your parents, but—” She stopped short as Chrissie stepped into the room.
Although she always looked nice, Chrissie was especially dressed up today.
She wore a beautifully ruffled black dress, a bow tied at her waist and a pair of glossy black Mary Janes on her feet.
Scarlett was just about to say that she looked like one of those fancy porcelain dolls you could order on TV when she noticed that her friend’s long, silky, toffee-colored hair had been chopped off—and not in a cute way.
The jagged ends played around her ears, a little too long in some places and too short in others.
Someone had attempted to make her look better by putting a pearl headband on top of the mess, but she still had the appearance of someone who had taken a pair of garden shears to her own head.
“Your hair! Your perfect hair!” Scarlett wailed. She swung her legs out of the bed and started to drag her IV with her toward the door, but Chrissie dashed in before she made it very far. “What happened? Were you kidnapped? Did someone steal it?”
Scarlett really did cry now—big, wet droplets that trailed down her cheeks like something out of one of her grandmother’s soap operas. She also pulled Chrissie into the bed with her, her arms around her friend as she ran her hand over the scraggly ends of her hair.
“You still look beautiful to me,” Scarlett said. “I don’t care what anyone says.”
A strange, muffled sound escaped Chrissie. Assuming it was a sob, Scarlett buried her head in her friend’s neck. She smelled like vanilla and butterscotch and soap, a combination that made Chrissie seem both a hundred years old and just a baby.
“It’ll grow back soon,” Scarlett promised. “Just like mine will now that I’m done with the stupid chemo.”
When Chrissie pulled away, it was to show a face that wasn’t lined with tears, but something else. Something that seemed so far away Scarlett couldn’t touch it even if she wanted to—and she didn’t want to. She didn’t know a lot of things about the world yet, but that one seemed important.
The things that hurt Chrissie are bigger and deeper than the things that hurt the rest of us.
Chrissie’s sad smile proved it. “Here. This is for you.” Before Scarlett could protest, Chrissie thrust a plastic bag into her hands.
“I asked my mom to send it to the wig people, but she said she can’t handle it right now.
Your grandma or maybe Nurse Penny should be able to do it for you, though.
And I can grow more if you need it, but it’ll take a while. ”
Scarlett opened the bag and peeked inside to find a long ponytail bound up in a blue scrunchie. One end of it was just as jagged as Chrissie’s hair, and Scarlett knew that if she held it up to her friend’s head, the ends would match perfectly.
“You…chopped off all your hair? For me?”
Chrissie shrugged and started tracing the line of the seam along one edge of Scarlett’s colorful hospital quilt. “I was only growing it out so I could help other kids,” she said. “Or maybe even my brother. But there’s no point anymore. He died.”
She stated this as though talking about the oatmeal she’d had for breakfast or the fact that she’d seen a pigeon on her way into the hospital. Scarlett, however, felt her whole body go numb.
So that was why Chrissie hadn’t been around for a few days. And why she was wearing such a beautiful old-timey dress.
And why, she realized, that sad, faraway look in her eyes seemed like it was here to stay.
“Oh, Chrissie.” Scarlett kept running her hand over Chrissie’s hair, the uneven ends now so much sharper than before. “You must miss him. I’m so sorry.”
Chrissie sniffled once—and only once. “Can I tell you an awful secret?”
Scarlett nodded. She didn’t trust herself to do anything else.
“I’m the reason he’s dead. I was supposed to be the one to save him, but I couldn’t.
” Chrissie scooted forward until her knees banged against Scarlett’s, her voice suddenly so quiet that Scarlett practically had to duck down low to hear the rest. “And even though I know I’m supposed to be sad, I’m really just glad he’s gone. ”