pulls her coffee from the tray. She points to one of the
crumpets. “Mine?”
“Yep.”
After she
swallows, she says, “I know you’re fine, this is for when you lose your hair
from the chemo. If we’re both bald you won’t feel so self-conscious.”
I put my
coffee down and wrap my arms around her. I feel a splodge of butter from her
crumpet drip onto my top but I ignore it and kiss her apricot blushed cheek.
Lani has
done some fairly amazing things as a friend but this is one of the sweetest
gestures ever. This is even better than being surprised with a life-sized
cut-out of a half naked Adam Levine for my birthday. Brendan had a lot of
trouble letting that into our
bedroom. He said he felt like he was being assessed during sex.
I rub my
hand over the prickles on Lani’s scalp. “It feels a like a doormat.”
“Yours will
be softer because it will be growing back, like baby hair.”
I can’t
believe she’s shaved her head. It makes my news slightly uncomfortable to
impart.
“I don’t
have to have chemo,” I say. I wait for the ball to drop through the hole and
engage. “Dr. Downer got all the cancer. It hadn’t spread as far as she first
thought. I’m in the clear. I do have to take Tamoxifen for the next five years,
though.”
I tell her
everything the doctor explained to me about my type of cancer and how if I take
the medication for five years I’ll have a ninety-five per cent chance of
survival. Even without the drug the survival rate is up as high as eighty-nine
per cent since I had the mastectomy.
Lani frowns.
It appears she’s having some difficulty digesting the information. “But you
said you were having chemotherapy.”
“That’s what
the doctors said originally, but after the surgery and the tests, they’ve
decided against it. It’s not necessary. I’m so sorry, Lani.”
It’s weird
that I’m apologising for not having chemotherapy but I feel dreadfully guilty.
“It’s no
problem.” She shrugs flippantly. “I always wanted to shave my head anyway. This
seemed like a good excuse. Bloody lucky you didn’t have to have your leg
amputated or something, eh? Imagine the strife I’d have been in then. At least
hair grows back.”
I can’t help
but laugh. It’s nice to be back.
“You must be
so happy about not having to have chemo,” she adds.
I mull this
over for a second. Of course I’m happy, but there’s something else, too. “I
think I’m a bit annoyed.”
“Why?”
“I feel
ripped off. I had it planned. I’d worked out a schedule for when I was off
doing treatment and everything. I was going to get my hair cut into a pixie cut
and dyed platinum blonde. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“You and
your plans.” She bites the crunchy edge off the crumpet. “You can still cut
your hair off. Nothing’s stopping you.”
“Yeah, but
if it looks shit, I’ll be stuck with it. The whole point of doing it before
chemo was that it didn’t matter because it would fall out.”
“You can’t
control everything, Soph.”
“Brendan
said the exact same thing.”
“I’m glad we
agree for once.”
“And I don’t
like to control, I like to be organised. There is a difference.”
“Apples and
bananas.”
I look over
to the table where Lani has left the pile of hats. I’m loath to ask because we
don’t have the money to spend on stock that will never sell. Like I’m loath to
ask how much they cost.
“Where’d
they come from?”
“Garage
sale.”
I pick up a
particularly odd looking felt number. “So they’re used?”
“Most
vintage things are. That’s kinda the point.”
I brace
myself for the next question. “How much?”
Lani leans
forward. Her eyes are gleaming with delight. “That’s the amazing thing. The
entire box was only five bucks. You could work some of your creative magic on
them. Revamp them into twenty-first century styles. With my help, of course.”
As I lean
over and begin to sort through her purchases, my
crumpets. “Mine?”
“Yep.”
After she
swallows, she says, “I know you’re fine, this is for when you lose your hair
from the chemo. If we’re both bald you won’t feel so self-conscious.”
I put my
coffee down and wrap my arms around her. I feel a splodge of butter from her
crumpet drip onto my top but I ignore it and kiss her apricot blushed cheek.
Lani has
done some fairly amazing things as a friend but this is one of the sweetest
gestures ever. This is even better than being surprised with a life-sized
cut-out of a half naked Adam Levine for my birthday. Brendan had a lot of
trouble letting that into our
bedroom. He said he felt like he was being assessed during sex.
I rub my
hand over the prickles on Lani’s scalp. “It feels a like a doormat.”
“Yours will
be softer because it will be growing back, like baby hair.”
I can’t
believe she’s shaved her head. It makes my news slightly uncomfortable to
impart.
“I don’t
have to have chemo,” I say. I wait for the ball to drop through the hole and
engage. “Dr. Downer got all the cancer. It hadn’t spread as far as she first
thought. I’m in the clear. I do have to take Tamoxifen for the next five years,
though.”
I tell her
everything the doctor explained to me about my type of cancer and how if I take
the medication for five years I’ll have a ninety-five per cent chance of
survival. Even without the drug the survival rate is up as high as eighty-nine
per cent since I had the mastectomy.
Lani frowns.
It appears she’s having some difficulty digesting the information. “But you
said you were having chemotherapy.”
“That’s what
the doctors said originally, but after the surgery and the tests, they’ve
decided against it. It’s not necessary. I’m so sorry, Lani.”
It’s weird
that I’m apologising for not having chemotherapy but I feel dreadfully guilty.
“It’s no
problem.” She shrugs flippantly. “I always wanted to shave my head anyway. This
seemed like a good excuse. Bloody lucky you didn’t have to have your leg
amputated or something, eh? Imagine the strife I’d have been in then. At least
hair grows back.”
I can’t help
but laugh. It’s nice to be back.
“You must be
so happy about not having to have chemo,” she adds.
I mull this
over for a second. Of course I’m happy, but there’s something else, too. “I
think I’m a bit annoyed.”
“Why?”
“I feel
ripped off. I had it planned. I’d worked out a schedule for when I was off
doing treatment and everything. I was going to get my hair cut into a pixie cut
and dyed platinum blonde. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“You and
your plans.” She bites the crunchy edge off the crumpet. “You can still cut
your hair off. Nothing’s stopping you.”
“Yeah, but
if it looks shit, I’ll be stuck with it. The whole point of doing it before
chemo was that it didn’t matter because it would fall out.”
“You can’t
control everything, Soph.”
“Brendan
said the exact same thing.”
“I’m glad we
agree for once.”
“And I don’t
like to control, I like to be organised. There is a difference.”
“Apples and
bananas.”
I look over
to the table where Lani has left the pile of hats. I’m loath to ask because we
don’t have the money to spend on stock that will never sell. Like I’m loath to
ask how much they cost.
“Where’d
they come from?”
“Garage
sale.”
I pick up a
particularly odd looking felt number. “So they’re used?”
“Most
vintage things are. That’s kinda the point.”
I brace
myself for the next question. “How much?”
Lani leans
forward. Her eyes are gleaming with delight. “That’s the amazing thing. The
entire box was only five bucks. You could work some of your creative magic on
them. Revamp them into twenty-first century styles. With my help, of course.”
As I lean
over and begin to sort through her purchases, my
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