Lightning (31 page)

“Look what's happening to me,” she sobbed. She knew that it had been a strong possibility, but she hadn't even had time to buy the wig Dr. Webber had suggested. She had spent the morning throwing up, and then gone to the mirror to see that her hair was falling out in bunches. “I can't stand it,” she sobbed, as Liz held her in her arms, trying to console her. “Why did this happen to me? It's not fair.” She was crying like a child, and Liz was glad she had come instead of Brock. He idolized her and it would have broken his heart to see her.

Liz led her into the living room, after Alex threw the hair away, and she sat sobbing in her bathrobe. She looked terrible, her face was pale, her eyes were red, there was a new puffiness to her face that one couldn't quite put a finger on, but something about her was different. She was still beautiful but she looked sick, very sick, and desperately unhappy.

“You have to be strong,” Liz reminded her firmly, determined not to let her wallow in self-pity.

“I have been strong,” Alex almost shouted at her, still sobbing. “And what's it done for me? Sam is as good as gone, I never even see him anymore. He comes in at midnight, or he doesn't come in at all, he lives in the guest room like a stranger, and the only time I ever see him is with my daughter. I'm sick all the time, she's scared of me now, and wait till she sees me without hair. The poor kid isn't even four years old yet, and she has a monster for a mother.”

“Stop it!” Liz snapped at her, and surprised Alex. “You have a lot to be grateful for, and this isn't going to last forever. You have five more months of this to get through, and then, if you're lucky, it'll be all over. And if Sam is a casualty of real life, then to hell with him. You have to think of yourself now, and your daughter. No one else. Do you understand that?” Alex nodded and blew her nose, surprised by the older woman's sternness, but she knew exactly what she was talking about. She'd been through it. Her husband had been more supportive of her than Sam but it had been her fight, and no one else's, and she said as much to Alex.

“Chemotherapy is miserable, and losing a breast is a terrible thing, but you can't give up. Your hair will grow back, you won't be throwing up forever. You have to look beyond this. Think of what you want to be doing in five months. Keep your mind on that, and not this, hold something out to yourself as a goal,” she suggested wisely.

“Not throwing up anymore would be a great place to start.”

“You'll get used to it eventually. That's a terrible thing to say, but it's true. Even that you can handle.”

“I know. I find myself on the bathroom floor now, kind of expecting to be there. It doesn't surprise me anymore.” And then she looked stricken again. “But losing my hair does. I know I should have expected it, but I guess I didn't.”

“Have you bought a wig yet?”

“I didn't have time,” Alex said, feeling sad and stupid.

“I'll get you one. A nice red one like your own hair.” Liz patted her shoulder. “Now where's this Christmas list of yours? I'm going to do what I can today, and then Brock and I are going to divide the rest of it tonight, and see if we can't get it all taken care of. I can finish it for you this weekend.” And Carmen had already promised to stay late to wrap the gifts. They were incredible. Who would have thought three months before that the three most important people in her life would turn out to be her housekeeper, her secretary, and her associate at the law firm? But they were all godsends. And she couldn't have made it without them.

She also would never have expected Sam to fail her. He hardly ever came home, and he stayed away from her, as though he couldn't handle it at all anymore. But whenever she saw him, he looked like he was hurrying out, and he was well dressed and looked very handsome.

Brock and Liz both came by late that night, with a treasure trove of goodies. She had called Brock at work and asked him to pick out a really nice handbag for Liz at Saks. He had bought a beautiful black lizard one, and they both agreed she was going to love it. They had bought beautiful things, and after Liz left, Brock stayed for a while, and had a cup of tea with her in her kitchen.

“Thank you for doing all this. I feel like such a burden to everyone.” But she had no choice, and she knew it. She had to accept that.

“It's not such a big deal,” he said quietly. “Going Christmas shopping for a friend is not exactly like climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, though I might do that for you too. But you'd have to give me a little warning.”

She smiled gratefully at him, he had been such a good friend, and it meant a lot to her. Staying home for a day had done her good too, and she didn't feel quite as rocky. But she was still feeling sensitive about her hair. She was wearing an Hermes scarf when they dropped by, and Liz had warned him about what had happened. She had wanted to get a wig for her, but she hadn't seen any decent ones, and Alex had said that she was going to get one the next morning.

“Are you alone here now?” Brock asked, referring to Sam, but she understood and shrugged.

“Most of the time.” In the past three weeks, he had traveled a lot and not come home much of the time. She hardly ever saw him. “I'm getting used to it. I think it's harder on Annabelle, though she sees more of him than I do.”

Brock realized it was going to be a tough Christmas for her, with her marriage on the rocks, and her health so frail, and now losing her hair as well as a breast. He felt sorry for her, and wished he could have changed it for her. He had been planning to go skiing in Vermont between Christmas and New Year's, and wondered if he should have offered to stay in town and keep her company, but he didn't think she'd accept it. And then he had a better idea.

“This might sound a little strange, but would you like to come to Vermont with me between Christmas and New Year's?” Knowing her treatment schedule as well as he did, it was easy to figure out that she would be in the better phase, when she was taking neither pills nor IV treatments. “You could bring Annabelle too. I'm staying in a house I borrow from friends every year, at Sugarbush. It's very rustic, but it's comfortable. You could sit by the fire all day, and I could put Annabelle in ski school.”

“Actually I think Sam is taking her away with him before he goes to Europe. I think they're going to Disney World.” But she couldn't imagine going to Vermont with Brock, no matter how sympathetic he was or how well she knew him. And Brock could easily see her hesitation.

“Why don't you think about it? It'll be lonely for you here.”

“All right,” she promised, but didn't really mean it.

He stayed for a little while, and then he left, and she went to bed, thinking how lucky she was to have such good friends. And the next morning she felt surprisingly better. Until she looked in the mirror again, and saw that more hair had fallen out during the night. There were three huge locks of it in her scarf, and she had a crazy urge to save it. And when she looked in the mirror, she saw that parts of her scalp were already showing. It made her cry again. She was losing everything. She didn't even feel like a woman now, just a thing, a body that was falling apart slowly. She hastily put her scarf back on before Annabelle came in, and she was surprised to see Sam with her when she went to make her breakfast. He had already given her cornflakes.

“You look pretty, Mommy,” Annabelle said, admiring a dark green suit, and a matching scarf she had found in a drawer. She actually looked very chic and very European.

“What's that all about?” He smiled at her, amused. She looked very glamorous, which was an unusual look for her at the office. “Going somewhere today?” he asked, purely conversationally. He was trying to be pleasant, and Alex knew it. He had no idea why she was wearing the scarf, and he wasn't sensitive enough to guess, so she didn't tell him.

“I have an appointment this morning.” She had an appointment at a wig store on Sixtieth Street where Dr. Webber had sent her. She said they had great styles and varied shades, and were very helpful with her kind of problem. “Do we need to talk about Christmas again?” Alex asked him across his paper. “I know Annabelle is going to be here with me, and then you're taking her, was it on the twenty-sixth? For a week?”

“I'm taking her to Disney World until the first, and then I'm flying back here, and leaving for Switzerland.” He smiled at Annabelle. “And I'll be back on her birthday.”

“Sounds like a tight schedule,” Alex said tartly, wondering where he was going. “Are you going to be here on Christmas with us, or do you have other plans?” she asked coldly as Annabelle's face fell.

“You're not going to be here, Daddy?”

“Of course I am,” he reassured her, and looked daggers at Alex. “We'll all be together for Christmas.” She looked immediately relieved, and Alex sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, fighting a wave of nausea. It was so exhausting being with him, and even being with Annabelle sometimes. They took so much from her. It took so much energy just giving them what they needed, and fighting for her survival and dignity with Sam. It was an uphill battle she just didn't have the strength for.

Sam took Annabelle to school, and Alex went straight downtown to the wig store. She felt hesitant when she walked in, but she was amazed at the extent of their selection. Dr. Webber had been right and in a very short time, Alex had picked out two very expensive wigs that looked just like her own hair, and then a shorter pageboy she really liked, and a really short one that looked like Annabelle's curls, all in her coppery natural color. She paid for them by check, and cautiously put one on. If anything it was even more lush and a little longer than her own hair, and it was beautifully styled and very glamorous. It was a great look with her green suit, and she tied the scarf around her neck and felt human again. It was amazing the difference hair made. She realized she had been stupid not to buy them sooner.

“Wow! Look at you!” Brock whistled as she walked into her office, and Liz smiled from ear to ear. She knew where Alex had been and she was pleased to see her looking as well as she did. She was still very pale, but she looked a lot better than she had the day before. “Did you go to the hairdresser?” Brock asked, and then suddenly felt stupid when he remembered what Liz had told him. For a moment, he'd forgotten.

“You could say that.”

“I like it,” he said admiringly, and Alex felt embarrassed suddenly at the way he looked at her. They had gotten so close over the last two months, but they were just friends. Yet once in a while she thought she saw something different in Brock's eyes, as though he was looking at her like a woman, not just a buddy, and it surprised her.

They went right to work and she got a good morning in, and then she lay down on her couch and dozed at lunchtime. Other people were going to Christmas lunches and parties with friends, but all Alex had the energy for was work, and spending time with her daughter.

She worked alone at her desk for the rest of the afternoon, and she met with two of her partners before she went home. Brock was going Christmas shopping again, and when she got home, Carmen was wrapping her presents. It made her feel useless and helpless, but she was too exhausted even to offer to help her.

Sam came home with a Christmas tree that night, and he stuck around long enough to decorate it, and then he left. And she sat alone, feeling depressed, remembering the Christmas before Annabelle was born, only four years before, and countless others. It all seemed so long ago, and like part of another world. It was incredible how much had changed since then. She sat in her bed that night, reading her mail, and trying not to think of Sam, when she noticed an invitation he had left open on the table. It was a Christmas party given by friends, and she put it aside to regret it. She didn't have the energy to go anywhere, certainly not to parties.

It took everything she could muster to take Annabelle to see Santa Claus at Macy's on Saturday, and by the time she got home, she was vomiting again, she was so exhausted. Carmen wasn't there, and after a little while Annabelle wandered into the bathroom to find her. Alex was lying there, on the floor, with her wig off, and her eyes closed. Almost all of her hair was gone now. It had fallen out in a matter of days, and the day before she had cut most of it off, there were just little tufts now, but even those were coming out daily. There was almost nothing left now.

“Mommy! Your hair fell off!” Annabelle screamed, seeing the wig on the floor next to her, and Alex jumped up with a start, she hadn't wanted her to see it. And Annabelle was crying as she looked at her, clutching her own head in terror, as Alex tried to console her.

“It's just a wig, sweetheart, it's okay. It's okay.” And then she saw Annabelle looking at her in horror. It wasn't a pretty sight, there was something sick about it, as the little sparse tufts stuck out here and there, and you could see her scalp all around them. Alex had almost wondered if she should shave it. “Remember, I told you Mommy's hair might fall out. It's okay, it'll grow back.” She was on her knees, holding her, but the little girl only sobbed harder. “I love you, please don't cry …” She hated the wig, and the reason for it. Everything was so wrong
in
her life suddenly. She wanted to blame it all on Sam but she knew she couldn't.

It took a long time to settle Annabelle down again, and when Carmen came in in the afternoon to babysit, she was still upset and Alex told her what had happened.

“It's all right, she'll get used to it.” Carmen patted Alex's arm. Alex had already put the wig on. She put on the shorter one that afternoon, and while Annabelle took a nap, Alex decided to get some air and go for a walk. Christmas was two days away, and she felt as though she had barely acknowledged it. Liz and Brock had done all her shopping for her, except for a beautiful dresser set she had Tiffany's send her for Sam, and an art book she'd been saving for him for ages. She hadn't been to any parties, or seen any friends. Other than their visit to Santa Claus, and the tree Sam and Annabelle had decorated, she hadn't paid any attention at all to Christmas.

“Will you be all right, going out, Mrs. Parker?” Carmen asked her with a look of concern.