Page 82 of Unraveled

There lay the problem. There wasn’t a thing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do. “Nothing. I think I broke up with Kellan,” I admitted in a shaky voice.

“If it’s about him coming in with his key, you should know it’s my fault. I convinced him he should.”

“It’s not just that.” Although Russ’s admission did help me understand why Kellan had come in after I’d asked him not to.

“You two will work it out.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him.

“At some point, you’ll look back on this and see it as a bump in the road. I truly believe that. So do you.”

It felt so insurmountable in this moment that I wasn’t sure. “I hope so.”

“You want me to come down?”

“No. What I need is to get a good night’s sleep. Maybe in the morning I’ll be in a better head space.”

“Promise you’ll text me in the morning. Okay?”

“I promise. Good night.”

“Night.”

The next morning, I woke with a pounding headache. Evidently sobbing wasn’t good for the body. I lay there for a few minutes before I grabbed for my phone. All I saw was a text from my brother reminding me to let him know when I woke up.

I fired off a reply quickly before walking into my bathroom. There was the mess of my hair as I’d left it. I avoided my reflection in the mirror and quickly cleaned up the sink and vanity, shoving the hair into my trash. At least there weren’t new tears. Perhaps I was all cried out.

Or not, because as soon as I thought about Kellan, the dam broke again. But instead of calling him, I called the one person I was hoping could help me with this. Patty.

Although she wasn’t scheduled to come until next Monday after my chemo, she arrived in twenty minutes. If she was shocked over my hack job of a haircut, she hid it carefully. Her expression was full of sympathy.

“You all right, honey?” She took a seat next to me on the couch where I sat with my feet curled up under me.

“Nope. Not even a little.” I dumped my entire night on her in one upchuck of information. I was spiraling, and this was only the beginning. I wished I could be like her. A fighter. An inspiration. Someone who inspired hope. The pink breast cancer pin on her scrubs made me shake my head.

“What is it?”

“Your pin. The symbol of breast cancer awareness. It never dawned on me until now how neat and pretty it is. So commercial with the perfect little loop and ends. All I can think about is I’m nothing like that tidy symbol. Instead, I’m an unraveled version of a pink ribbon.”

“We’re all like that at one point or another. There are horrible lows through this process, and emotions you can’t control because of the chemicals flowing through your body. Add to that the stress of having cancer and all of the losses, such as your breasts and now your hair. But don’t add a boyfriend to the things to grieve.”

More tears broke free as insecurity caused my next words. “He’s better off without me. Without having to ride this roller coaster. I’m a fucking hot mess. And I’ve hurt him when he’s been nothing but supportive.”

“You’re not a mess. You’re human. You’re also beautiful with or without the hair. You have to know he believes that, too.”

Perhaps. “He hasn’t called or texted me.” I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t as if I’d given him any reason to keep trying.

“I’m sure he’s giving you a little space before he tries again. Now then, you know what would make you feel better? How about a shower? I can shave your head so it makes things even. Just think of how much time you’ll save without having to do your hair. I have to admit it’s why I’ve kept mine short after all these years. Frankly, I got used to not having to spend any effort on it.”

My very first smile in days came out. “A shower sounds good. Thanks, Patty.”

Later that night, I still hadn’t gotten up the nerve to call or text Kellan. After not hearing from him all day, I wondered if he might be cutting his losses. Self-doubt was the enemy, and right now it was kicking my ass. I was about to call it a night and cry myself to sleep when I did receive a text. It was from Kellan, and it contained several photos.

My jaw about dropped. The first photo showed him. He appeared to be sitting in a barber’s chair, and he was bald. The second photo was also of him but included Russell and my father. They were all equally bald and smiling for the camera. The message said, “we’re with you in this fight.”

Forget tears, I went straight into ugly cry mode. I only stopped for the knock at the door. “Who is it?” I called out.

“It’s me. Please let me in.” Desperation. That’s what I heard in Kellan’s voice. I recognized the emotion because I could feel it, too. I was desperate to let him in and have his arms around me. For him to tell me it would be okay despite neither of us being able to guarantee that fact.