Chapter 57 Junie
Junie
Junie’s MRI appointment is at an imaging center about an hour away, so she and Georgia get into the truck early Friday morning
to make it on time. The drive is quiet, both of them sleepy, sipping coffee from their thermoses. Junie isn’t sure how to
feel about today. She’s not worried; it just feels like one more box to check along the way. But that fact in itself makes
her wonder if she should. Worry, that is.
When they arrive Georgia parks the truck, getting a spot relatively close to the entrance, and they walk through the automatic
doors that slide open at their approach. Georgia takes a seat in the waiting area and gets on her phone, checking work email
presumably. It hasn’t been lost on Junie that Georgia hasn’t had any issue so far with staying in Whitetail, working remotely.
She’s wondered if maybe it’ll be zero hassle for her to stay, taking care of her little sister as she gets better.
“Fill these ones out, and don’t forget the back.” The receptionist slides a clipboard across the desk. “And I’ll need your
insurance card and driver’s license.”
Junie hands over the cards and accepts her stack of forms with a smile.
She drops into a seat next to Georgia and completes them.
Before long, she’s called back and directed to a changing area.
There, she slips out of her clothes and into a gown.
She leaves her items in a locker and proceeds to the MRI room, where she’s eventually slotted into a big white tube and told to be very still while she’s scanned.
The cheery tech hits the button for Junie to slide out of the tube a good while later, and when Junie sits up, she sees the
mess of red hair left behind.
“Oops,” she tells the tech. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”
The tech smiles. “Don’t worry, doll.”
Junie’s breezy air falters once she’s alone in the changing room, shedding even more hair as her shirt passes over her head.
She takes a final look at herself in the mirror. It won’t be forever, she tells herself. You’ve still got it, Junie Bug.
Georgia wasn’t allowed back with Junie, per center policy, so she’s been sitting in the waiting room for almost two hours.
When Junie returns, Georgia looks up with a smile. “All done?”
“Let’s get going. I need to call an emergency Good Hair Days.” She marches off in the direction of the exit.
Junie is already out the door and at the truck when Georgia catches up, clicking the key fob to unlock. Junie slips into her
seat, and Georgia climbs into the driver’s seat. Junie is grateful that Georgia doesn’t jump right on top of her and instead
starts the truck and drives for a good fifteen minutes before she speaks.
“What’s the emergency?” Georgia asks. “Not that it matters—we’ll be there.”
Junie looks out the windshield, determination in her gaze. “I don’t want this to be sad,” she says. “It’s time, but I cannot
bear this being some twisted weirdo funeral sort of thing.”
“The genetic test?” Georgia asks. The way she says it gives away the fact that she’s been thinking about it and wondering.
Ruminating probably.
Junie shakes her head. “That’s not what’s on my mind.” She laughs. “Actually, it’s what’s literally on my mind-slash-head-slash-brain.”
Georgia glances over briefly before looking back to the road.
“It’s time for the hair to go,” Junie says. Her words are warm, gentle, matter-of-fact, and remarkably light. “I need y’all
to be there with me. I need y’all to cut it short—Tina probably—and then I need a wig from the collection.”
Georgia pauses, swallows deeply, and nods. “Of course. We’ll be there. One thing, though. Are you sure you don’t want to go
to a specialty shop? You know it’s just a little bit of a drive to Atlanta, and they’ve got places that can fit you precisely,
not June’s ‘most sizes fit some’ situation.”
Junie shakes her head confidently. She’s already thought this through and made up her mind. Taking charge, she might say,
of her own hair, her own life, and perhaps so much more beyond. One day.
“I need it to be fun. A bit of a party. We need to go out on the town afterward.”
Georgia’s mouth lifts a little, a barely there smile. “I would expect nothing less from a Louise.”