“I love what you did.”
“Then keep it.”
“I am keeping it.”
“Then what’s happening?”
She touched her own short hair.
“I want to look like me now.”
Silence.
That landed.
The wig had helped her
feel like herself once.
Now not wearing it did.
Gifts have seasons.
Ethan nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
She smiled.
“Also, your hair is frizzy.”
He threw a pillow at her.
Good.
Then came the first truly frightening scan after months of improvement.
A suspicious area.
Additional imaging needed.
No conclusion yet.
Lily spiraled.
So did Ethan.
I found him at two in the morning searching cancer recurrence statistics.
I shut the laptop.
“Mom.”
“No.”
“I need to know.”
“No, you need sleep.”
“What if it’s back?”
“We don’t know.”
“What if
she dies?”
There it was.
The sentence underneath everything.
He started crying.
Hard.
“I can’t do anything.”
I pulled him close.
