I remember my last appointment with her. How worried I was that the work would overtax my body. How much I let my fear dictate my life.
And then Jaden came along and changed everything.
In the mirror I see my cheeks glowing. ‘It’s going great.’
Even though I’m still careful, weighing up for every patient which tests are necessary and which are superfluous, I’m making progress. Dr. Franks now trusts me enough that he no longer checks my work.
‘I’m incredibly happy to hear that.’ Lucy pulls the comb from her stylist’s belt. ‘Oh, by the way, my mom says hi. She’s already feeling much better; she’ll be back to her old self soon.’
Moved, I nod. ‘Fantastic.’
Smiling, she turns her attention to my hair. ‘It’s really grown a lot, we definitely need to get the scissors on it.’
While she pulls a stool and a rolling cart over to her, I tug at my hair.
Fifty to eighty percent. That’s the probability that I’ll keep my hair—if it even grows as long as it used to be at all. And that will never change.
I’m never going to be a one-percent person again, and neither is Jaden. The illness will be with us for the rest of our lives. Maybe he won’t make it. Maybe it will be harder for him than we thought, maybe one day the cancer will come back. In one of us. Or in both of us.
No one knows what tomorrow will bring, only what today is. And today he’s fighting his illness. Today we woke up tightlyentwined, we laughed together, planned more changes in the garden, kissed.
Lucy reaches for the comb and parts my hair. ‘As always: nice and short at the nape, but soft.’ With concentration she sections off a few strands. ‘We’ll thin out the sides a bit with the razor again.’
Thoughtfully, I watch her brush my hair to the side. Around me the hum of hairdryers, the crackle of foil, low voices and laughter.
‘A bit of texture in the front and a few strands falling into your face.’ Lucy lifts her lids; we look at each other in the mirror. ‘Okay?’
‘You know what?’ I tap my chin thoughtfully. ‘I think it’s time for a change.’
Today is a new day. A new beginning.
Lucy’s eyes light up. ‘You want to…?’ she asks in disbelief.
I nod, my smile turning into a longing beam. ‘Just trim the ends, please.’
Epilogue
NYLA
Two and a half years later
The garden lies still before me. A little paradise in the warm light of the afternoon. Between old stone paths that crunch softly under my steps, lavender bushes grow. Their scent hangs heavy in the air, sweet and spicy. Roses in deep red and delicate orange climb along wrought-iron arches, their blossoms like soft chalices whose petals brush my skin as I pass. The narrow brook babbles quietly, as if whispering stories about life and love, about what touches our hearts.
I return to the terrace and see Jaden step out of the house. His hands clasped behind his back, he smiles at me; Nero circles his legs, tail wagging, then sinks down contentedly onto the sun-warmed terrace slabs.
‘Do you know what day it is today?’ Jaden asks.
Of course I know. ‘My third second birthday.’ We both have two birthdays – the day we were born and the day we beat our illness – and year after year we celebrate them extensively.
He steals a kiss from me. Then he brings his hands forward, in which he is holding a photo book. ‘Happy birthday.’
On the cover I spot a picture of the two of us. I open the album, and Jaden steers me toward the bench under the apple tree. As I sit down, I look at the first photos.
Jaden and me at the animal shelter. Him in a baseball cap, with hair just starting to grow back underneath. Me with Nero, who was two years old at the time, in my arms, his button eyes looking curiously into the camera.
Jaden chuckles. ‘If we’d known back then what a little rascal he’d turn out to be…’
‘…we still would’ve taken him with us,’ I finish his sentence.