When I finally make it into my apartment, I lock the door and lean my back against it. My sobs have calmed, my breath hitching only slightly as I try to focus on my breathing.
I feel dirty and gross andlow.
I need to do something, a complete reset. A nice, relaxing, hot shower where I can try to wash off the sweat from the walk home and ease the too-tight feeling on my skin. Brush my teeth to get rid of the foul taste in my mouth from vomiting. Scrub the entire day away, let it slip down the drain, and start fresh tomorrow.
I start the shower and brush my teeth, before stripping off my clothes and tossing them into the hamper. The hot water feels nice on my skin, and I try to focus on that feeling rather than the cold misery coursing through my veins.
The images taunt me, flashes of kissing, tongues, passion, and heat. They kissed in a way he hadn't kissed me in forever. I flinch, grabbing the shampoo to give me something to focus on. I use my nails to scrub my scalp, rinse, then repeat.
If I scrub hard enough, maybe I can wash all these memories out of my head.
I run my hands through my hair as I rinse, and then I freeze.
I knew it was going to happen. You always see it on television and in movies when someone has cancer. I'm not naive enough to think that it wouldn't happen to me, but I guess it was nice to pretend and forget about it for a while.
Reluctantly pulling my hands away from my head, I see dark strands of hair covering my fingers like webbing. I place my hands under the stream of water and watch as the hair falls to the shower floor, swirling toward the drain.
It hits me all at once.
All that I've lost, all that I'm still losing, and all that I'm going to lose.
My fiancé, my health, my planned future, and my hair—which sounds awful that I'm placing it in the same category as those other infinitely more important things. It's just hair, it'll grow back, but it's myhair,and it makes me feel pretty. It's falling out, goddamnit, and I can't do anything to stop it.
And despite me having so many people in my corner right now—my sister, my book club, Donna and Rich, Maeve.
Callum...
I still feel so alone.
Tears mix with the warm water of the shower. Carefully, I sit down in the tub and let the water cascade over my body. The dark strands of hair slip down to the porcelain and rush to the drain, clumping together.
I can't take my eyes off of it.
Chapter Fifteen
Paul
It's strange how fast everything can completely unravel.
When you start to face the consequences of your choices—consequences you never really gave a second thought about.
Then comes that uneasy itch that crawls slowly across your skin as your chest grows tight, your breathing grows shallow.
That's how I felt the day of the biopsy.
So I dove headfirst into a distraction. And I did it again and again, for those small moments of escape. It felt good to think about anything else besides death, surgery, and scars. I could just forget about Sophie's scared, teary eyes.
I escaped into fantasy.
Now, I shift in my chair, searching for a comfortable position that I know I won't find. The air in this conference room, usually cold, feels too suffocating, and I tug at my collar for relief, that I know won’t come.
This is a room I have been in many times, laughing with coworkers over catered food while we pored over projects and held meetings. Interestingly, this room is where it all truly began with Elise.
I was aware of the no-fraternization policy when I signed my employee contract,‘to maintain impartiality and professionalism, ensuring personal interests do not compromise the working environment.’
At the time, I couldn't see a future without Sophie, so why would I even care about that clause? I had signed it without asecond thought, and now that signature could seal my fate at the job I love.
Next to me, Elise is composed and calm. Not a blonde hair out of place on her head, her makeup done expertly, her posture perfectly straight in her chair. She wears an expensive-looking white silk blouse, fitted black trousers, and sky-high heels like it’s any other day. She crosses her legs and leans back in the chair, looking almost too at ease.
