What's Left Of Me Part 24

"Hi."

He sighs with relief into the phone. "What is going on? I've called and texted. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. I haven't been by my phone much with my parents here."

"I understand. It's just unusual that I haven't heard from you. You sure you're okay? You sound sad."

I blink tears away. My chest hurts. I want to talk to him. To tell him. I hate that I'm withholding this from him. "I'm okay. I promise. As soon as my parents leave I'll call you, okay? We can go out, or I can come over?"

"Yeah. Sure. Of course. Just ... please text me. I don't like worrying."

"I will. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'll talk to you soon?"

"Of course."

After hanging up, I drop the phone next to me.

My dad calls Dr. Olson to get a refill on my pain medication and to ask if what I'm experiencing is normal. Just moving my arms feels as if my bones are breaking. She confirms that it's the drugs. If need be, the next round in two weeks can get adjusted, but in the meantime I'm given a stronger pain medication, Dilaudid, along with more muscle relaxers.

By the third night, I lie awake in my bed from the tingling that has come back to my hands and feet. The pain has gotten a little better thanks to the medication, though now I'm considering taking something to help me sleep.

Reaching into my nightstand, I get a pain pill and swallow it down with water.

I picking up my phone and see that it's 2:00 am. Still, I know Jean will answer. She always does.

"Dre? You okay?" She picks up on the second ring.

I haven't cried from the pain yet, even though I've come close many times. I let a sniffle out into the phone, and I hear the rustling of sheets as she makes herself more comfortable in bed. "Talk to me. I'm here."

"I ..." I try to speak, but the lump in my throat stops all words from coming out.

"Shh." Her voice is calming on the other end. She's the only person I don't get upset at for trying to calm me down. I think it's because she's the only one who really understands what I'm going through. I don't want to be comforted. I want to let out my frustrations without someone taking it personally and running off to cry.

She won't baby me.

She won't tell me everything will be okay.

She listens. She never judges and I love her for that.

I try to get the words out, but tears fall instead. I gulp down air as the pain in my chest releases. The sobs form, becoming stronger, and I don't hold them back. I let the tears soak my pillow as I cry hard into the phone.

"I just want it to stop. All of it. The pain. The suffering. The f.u.c.king cancer. I want it gone. I need it gone, Jean. It's tearing me apart inside. G.o.d, I hate this. Even all the lying I'm doing to Parker. It's breaking my heart."

I can hear the m.u.f.fled cries on the other end of the line, but she doesn't say anything.

"I can't keep doing this. I can't. If this next round doesn't take ... if the transplant doesn't work ... I'm done, Jean. I'm so f.u.c.king done with it. I can't do it. My d.a.m.n body can't do it! I can't even take a shower alone, the pain is so bad." I pause, bringing my voice to a very low whisper. "When is it enough?"

I cry hard into the phone along with her. I let the tears fall and I'm not ashamed. I need them out.

Tomorrow is a different day.

Tomorrow will be better.

It can only get better.

My alarm is set to go off at eight, but my body disagrees. The sun is barely up, and my mind is already running a marathon. I stayed up with Jean until three crying into the phone. When I was done, I said goodbye and tried to get some sleep. I know that when I talk to her next, last night won't get brought up, and I love her for that.

Parker sends me a message telling me he misses me and wants to come over and see me and spend time with my parents before they leave. I'm horrified at the thought of him spending time with my family. I love them, but sometimes I become the topic of discussion, or at least my cancer does. I need to tell Parker first. I just don't know how.

Me: Hey, sorry I didn't reply last night. Late night. I think this weekend should work. I'll let you know. Miss you too. Xo He replies almost immediately.

Mr. Handsome: It's ok. Hope you slept well. Coming in today? I want to see you.

Me: Not today. :( Sorry. Maybe next week ...

Mr. Handsome: Everything okay?

Me: Yeah. :) I'll call you later. Ok?

Mr. Handsome: Sure.

I give my shoulders a quick rub, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed. I feel better than I did last night, or yesterday-well enough, finally, to take a shower without my mom or Genna near.

After I get out of bed, I head straight for the bathroom. Shower first, then coffee.

As I make my way into the bathroom, I hear Genna talking with my parents and Jason about breakfast. I'm surprised they're all up. I don't bother brus.h.i.+ng my teeth first or grabbing fresh clothes. I just want to feel the steam and warmth around me.

In the shower, I let the hot water run over me, letting my shoulders relax under the stream. The water hits hard on just the right trigger points, lessening all the stress that has been building up for the last three days. I keep eyes closed, feeling the warmth consume me, while I scrub every part of me clean.

I'm surprised how good a shower can make me feel after the days I've had.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I scrub away any makeup that may still be lingering. I somehow allowed Genna to talk me into doing my makeup yesterday afternoon because she wouldn't shut up about how it would make me feel better. I think it was to make her feel better, like we were spending quality time together or something.

I give my eyes more attention, hoping to get all the mascara off. There is nothing worse than the feeling of a washcloth sc.r.a.ping over my sensitive skin, but since I ran out of makeup remover wipes, this is my only hope of getting it off.

With a final scrub, I turn into the water to wash away any last bits of soap. I take a step back from the running water and wipe my face with the dry towel I have hanging on the wall just outside the shower curtain. Letting the towel fall back against the wall, I glance down at my hands where there are a few tiny black hairs on the outer tips of my fingers. I turn my hands over to get a better look, separating my fingers slightly as I do.

"What the heck?" I whisper to myself, holding my now shaking hands up in the air. The little hairs look like lashes, but they're mixed with slightly longer hairs of golden copper and brown.

"Oh my G.o.d." These cannot be what I think they are. Can they?

"Oh my G.o.d. Oh my G.o.d!" I start to say louder into the running water.

Quickly pulling the curtain back, I step out of the shower, not bothering to grab the towel. Heading straight to the vanity mirror, I grab a hand towel to wipe away the steam that has formed on the mirror and try to see my reflection through the foggy gla.s.s.

"Oh my G.o.d!" I yell at my reflection. My eyes are still hazel, but they're no longer surrounded by full, dark lashes. They're empty. Every single eyelash is gone.

Every. Single. One.

I don't have time to panic about my eyelashes because my eyes make a fast glance over the rest of my face where I notice the thinned out s.p.a.ce that once held my freshly-tweezed golden eyebrows. I gasp at the sight. My hands fly up to my mouth. My eyebrows are almost gone. There are chunks missing. There is almost nothing left. I won't be able to fix it. I'll have to pluck them all.

No hair.

Desperate to get away from the mirror, I back up until I hit the wall. My palms touch the wall to keep me from sliding to the floor.

It will be okay. Everything will be okay. Someway, somehow, everything will be okay. Won't it?

No. It won't. Nothing will be okay. This changes everything.

The realization of losing my hair sets in.

No more eyelashes.

No more eyebrows.

No more going out in public.

No more Parker.

No more Parker?

My heart begins beating rapidly, and my breathing becomes sharper.

This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening f.u.c.k. This is happening.

With a shaking step, I lean off the wall and examine the rest of my body. All my hair below my abdomen? Gone. The hair on my arms? There, but barely. The hair on my face?

My head?

Gone. It's all gone.

Panic sets in, and I let out a m.u.f.fled cry. My throat is tight and I swallow lump after lump, refusing to let them form.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

f.u.c.k. I'm crying.

The tears start falling, and no matter how fast I try to wipe them away, more fall in their place. With every fallen tear, I get more and more frustrated. I'm frustrated at myself for crying, at this f.u.c.king cancer for taking not only all my hair, but now Parker too.

A scream escapes my chapped lips and I bang my palm against the wall behind me. I'm p.i.s.sed at myself for getting so upset, but everything I thought I had is now gone.

Lost.

My hair.

My freedom.

Parker.

Everything.

I can't go out in public without eyelashes.

Without f.u.c.king eyebrows! My eyebrows, for f.u.c.k's sake!

"Taking the hair on my head wasn't enough! You're ruining me!" I shout at the top of my lungs, my voice going hoa.r.s.e on the last word. Yanking the towel off the hanger, I knock over the potted plant on the small table next to the bathtub and it crashes to the floor.

Before I can let out a breath, I hear loud footsteps getting closer to the door. I wrap the towel securely around me.

"Aundrea!" Genna yells from outside the door, followed by my parents.

The shower is still running, so I reach in and shut it off. Finding my voice, I yell back, "I'll be out in a minute."

I hear hushed voices speaking just outside the door. I don't want to deal with anyone right now. I just want to crawl in bed and hide until I'm cured.

"Are you okay?" she asks again.

"Just give me a minute. Please," I say, annoyed.

I can't look in the mirror again. I can't look at myself. Turning off the light, I stand in the dark and count to five before making sure my towel is tightly wrapped around me, and open the door.

The door isn't even all the way open when I hear a sharp intake of breath and hands slapping skin. My eyes meet Genna's. Her mouth is a perfect O until her hands cover it. One on top of the other. Jason is next to her. He doesn't say anything. I can't even tell if he's breathing. He's looking right at me. Not at me, but at the spot that once housed my full eyebrows and thick eyelashes.

My mom begins to cry right away, leaning into my dad who doesn't say anything, but I can see the pain of seeing me like this in his eyes.

"Dre," Genna says softly.

Jason clears his throat. "Umm, I'm going to give you all a minute." I watch as he walks away from us, leaving me standing in the doorway of the bathroom with my family.

He can't even stand to look at me.

My heartbeat begins to slow and I grab hold of the door jam for support. My head feels light and my legs start to tremble.

"It's going to be okay, Aundrea," Genna whispers.

"Please don't."

"Don't what?" she asks cautiously. I can tell she doesn't want to say or do anything to upset me.

I can feel the stinging in my eyes as tears begin to form, and I will myself to calm down before one escapes.

"Say that. Just don't."

I move past them in fear that I'll break down any second. I can feel my hands shaking at my sides, so I clasp them together in front of me as I walk into my bedroom.

Genna tells my parents to give us a moment, and my dad takes my mom into the other room.