"Nice place, cutie."
"Thanks, Ton," I respond, taking another long sip and frowning at their expectant faces. "Not that I'm not happy to see you guys, but... what are you doing here?"
Bailey's smile falters, and she shares a look with Tonya. "You... you don't remember?"
Frowning, I try to rack my brain for anything today and come up with nothing.
"The wig appointment?" Tonya supplies, her voice surprisingly gentle.
Wig appointment?I grab my phone from the kitchen counter and quickly scan my calendar, but I don't find anything scheduled for today.
"I... I told you two days ago, I thought—" Bailey says, pulling out her own phone and unlocking it. "I'm pretty sure I texted you about it..."
Sure enough, she pulls up our personal text thread and there it is—her telling me about an appointment she set up with a wig shop in Boston. October is breast cancer awareness month, and Bailey said she's collaborating with a wig store where I would geta free wig in return for promoting the store in an article in her column—Bailey Banks On It.
I remember now, Bailey had told me she arranged it, and I couldn't help but squeeze her in gratitude. I had considered getting a wig, but had no idea what the first steps were, whether I needed to get fitted, or how to care for one. It just felt a little overwhelming, but of course, Miss Banks was on it. Bailey had some experience with wigs and said she could help me, and the shop owner would guide me through the care instructions. It took everything in me not to break down into a mushy mess at all these people willing to go the extra mile to help me.
While I am totally okay with wearing hats to keep my head warm, I think a wig could definitely boost my confidence. I can't believe I forgot all about it after Bailey went through all that trouble.
"Oh," I murmur, face-palming myself and frowning at my forgetfulness. "God, Bailey, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot."
Chemo brain.
That's another thing, a side effect I've been noticing. Thankfully, my chemotherapy and doctor's appointment reminders are recurring and have been in my calendar for months. But I've been letting some other things fall through the cracks.
At the last book club meeting, I had completely forgotten my train of thought when talking about the final chapters of the book. I was talking when, all of a sudden, it felt like all the thoughts in my head had been sucked out with a vacuum. I just... stopped. Callum had gently brushed his hand across my back, and I had found the club looking at me in concern.
Thankfully, no one had commented. They had just picked up the conversation from where I left off. I sat there blushing red. Callum reached out for my hand and took it in bothof his, soothing me with his touch and melting away my embarrassment.
"No worries! We have plenty of time!" Bailey chirps, clapping her hands together and speaking in perpetual exclamation points. She just places her hands on my shoulders and guides me to my bedroom, "Let's get you dressed and ready to go."
Two hours later, Bailey helped me pick out an outfit—my red hat, my warm red cable-knit sweater, black jeans, and black boots. Bailey had painted my lips with my favorite red lipstick, telling me today was a day to go bold.
My eyebrows had been falling out a little more, and Tonya presented me with a little gift. One of her clients has alopecia and uses these little eyebrow temporary tattoos. She recommended them. Tonya bought me like twenty sheets of them, so I'll have enough to pass on to my grandkids one day. Tonya used a little water to apply them, and I gasped when I looked in the mirror. I was worried it would be tooGroucho Marx, but it turned out to be veryBrooke Shields—full and natural-looking.
My lashes were already taken care of, courtesy of Jane. She struggles with sensory issues with some cosmetics and has given me a bunch of the little lash clusters that she uses. She also gave me a sensitive, eye-friendly lash glue to apply them and sent me a step-by-step video. Now I feel like a pro when I put them on.
And I'm just so grateful for this group of women. Each of them has given me something that has made me feel better, more confident, and more supported in the way I need, without trying to change anything about me.
Now my belly is full of cinnamon rolls that I ate in the back of Bailey's Lexus as she drove us into the city. Tonya sang along—terribly—to pop songs the entire way.
Crown Craftis the name of the wig shop owned by hairstylist Sasha Graham, who opened it two years ago. My eyes widenwhen we walk in because the shop is gorgeous, with marble and crystal accents everywhere. There are chairs like a hair salon along a mirrored wall. Despite it being empty, the energy is bright and fun, and music is softly playing from the speakers.
My eyes are immediately drawn to the two walls full of wigs—all different colors, textures, and lengths. I scan it and become a little overwhelmed with all of the options, until heels clicking grab my attention, and I turn to see a beautiful woman walking toward me.
Oh, this has to be Sasha.
"Hi, welcome in!" Her voice is honey-rich, slightly accented, and I wonder if she’s from New York originally; she doesn’t have the usual Boston accent I’ve grown accustomed to. She holds out her hand, long acrylic nails done in a French design with cute little pink hearts. Her handshake is soft and warm, and I can't help but smile at her. "I'm Sasha, it's so nice to meet you."
Sasha is very tall, even more than Tonya, with rich, deep-brown skin. She has a statuesque hourglass figure draped in a bright pink blouse that pops beautifully against her skin tone. Her hair is long and honey-brown, curled into those old-school Hollywood waves. She's wearing fitted black pants and sky-high heels that match her blouse.
"Hi, thank you so much for today," I tell her, practically bouncing on my toes in excitement. "This is so kind of you. Your shop is absolutely stunning."
"Aw, thank you," she replies, before shaking Tonya's hand and then giving Bailey a quick hug. "And it's no problem. I hope we can find something you like. Anything you see on the wall, we can try on and see how it looks on you first. I blocked out the entire day for you, so don't feel rushed."
I’m so touched by the lengths she went to for me. The lengths that all of these wonderful women have gone for me.
"Thank you so much," I tell her again, my voice a little wobbly.I share a smile with Bailey and Tonya, who are beaming at me.
