I had
managed to keep it a secret. Of course I had told my friends and they had done
a good job of supplying excuses of why I missed so much school over the past
few months, it was nearing the end of March. But now came the moment of truth. I couldn’t hide the fact that I
was bald and there was a large scar at the base of my head, right where the
hairline ends. The good news? The doctors suspect that they extracted nearly
the entire tumor. What tiny portions they were unable to get to will hopefully
go away after 18 weeks of chemotherapy. I had come to terms with the fact that
I was destined to be tested one time after another and I would always overcome-
no matter how steep the mountain in front of me seemed. My faith led me forward
in blindness- unaware of the outcome, only knowing that, just as everything
else had, this would pass.
I walked
into school, my head held high, and was greeted by the two best friends ever.
Tammy and Rhoslyn smiled widely took turns nearly squishing me to death with
their hugs. They had come to the hospital to visit me religiously and made me
remember how strong I was. We had cried together more times than I cared to
count. They snuck food into my room against policy because I was craving cheese
and broccoli soup from Panera. They
put me in a wheel chair and rode on the back all the way from oncology to surgical procedures (which was our longest stretch to date). My
parents had practically adopted them- letting them stay over on school nights
so I wouldn’t be alone, helping me pick out my wig, and now they had each
decided to alternate weeks of taking me to chemo every Wednesday after school.
Tammy reached
forward “Let me take your books, Claire, they look heavy.”
I held them
tight against my chest, determined, “No, I can do it. They said I need to start
getting back to normal and normal people are strong enough to carry their
school books.”
She gave me
a knowledgeable look and stepped back. Tammy knew that I was bull-headed when
it came to being independent. I had let most of it slip away, allowing myself
to rely on others through this long process, but now the time had come for me
to start standing on my own. Sure, I knew I was going to stumble a few more
times and have them pick me up, but I would learn to walk steadily again.
They walked
with me to homeroom and we sat round chatting until the bell rang. I knew I
would have to face him eventually. I had gotten over the break up and all the
hurt he had caused me, but this was different. I wouldn’t be the same girl he
knew and I didn’t want his anger toward me to melt into pity because of what
had happened. If anything, I wanted him to not even acknowledge that I existed-
it was something I had become accustomed to. One by one, people filed into
homeroom. They all smiled and seemed welcoming, obviously noticing the changes
in my appearances, but treating just as they had before. It comforted me to
know that their view of me hadn’t changed, even if part of me had.
He walked
in, his gaze immediately drawn to where I was sitting. Had he been anticipating
my return? No. I pushed the thought away from my mind. He smiled and sat in his
regular spot. We did not look at each other again. Or, rather, I tried to
ignore that he was there and more than once I felt his hot stare bit the back
of my head as I was turned speaking to someone else. Was he looking at my scar?
I immediately felt insecure and reached back to run my fingers over it, pulling
my beanie hat farther down over the back of my head. He should just mind his own business, I thought as my cheeks
flushed with embarrassment.
First bell
rang and everyone left the room. Somehow, Cain ended up walking behind me. I
felt an annoying tapping on my shoulder and I turned around, “Yes?”
He looked
somewhat intimidated by my harsh stare, “I, um, just wanted to see if you were
alright. That scar looks kind of nasty, is that why you’ve been out?” I nodded,
“Oh. Okay. Um, cool. So, what happened?”
I felt anger
rise up inside me, “It really isn’t any of your business. Just because I might
look sick and weak doesn’t mean I am. And I still don’t forgive you.”
He just
stood there in the middle of the hallway, obviously taken aback by my ferocity,
as I turned and walked away. I wasn’t going to deal with him. I needed to focus
on myself. So what if he regretted his decision and suddenly wanted to be my
best friend? I told him I was going to move on and I had. There were much
bigger things at work in my life than him and he wasn’t going to get in the way
of my progress. For the first time in my life, I was putting myself first and
it felt amazing.
No comments:
Post a Comment