Chapter 11 – Stronger
"Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter"
~ Christina Aguilera
"We could move in here for a while," Aubrey suggested several days later. The Swansons and Stacie had come over for dinner and – now that Dahlia was in bed – were discussing the coming obstacles. "I could be here in the daytime to help Beca – "
"No," Beca said sternly. "No. No. No. Sorry Bree, but that would kill me faster than the cancer. I love you – but you've gotta go home – often. Now would be good, actually." Chloe didn't hide her amused smile; it was nice to hear Beca bantering again.
"What can we do to help?" Jesse asked.
"We don't really know yet," Beca admitted again.
"If nothing else right now – you should start looking for help around the house. You're not going to have the energy to be cooking and cleaning," Stacie told her. In fact, Stacie had always been amazed that Beca and Chloe didn't employ any help around their house to begin with – other than landscaping. The two of them – with the help of their daughters – kept their home clean – and it was pretty much a mansion.
"I don't really want a stranger here," Beca said, wrinkling her nose.
"Get used to it," Stacie replied unsympathetically – "because you also need to start interviewing nannies." As much as she didn't want to scare her, she needed Beca to understand the reality of what was coming – because she was certain that the brunette was holding herself together with sheer will and oodles of denial.
"No – " Beca said. "We'll be fine – "
"After the first round of chemo starts – you won't be able to drive," Stacie told her bluntly. "Chloe is still going to be working, I assume?" Both women nodded. "So – you at least need someone who is reliable enough to pick Dahlia up from school and bring her home – and you need someone here with her in case you have to go in for a treatment on a day when school is out of session – or if you're not feeling well enough to take care of her."
Beca closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples. She could not imagine being so sick or so tired that she would be unable to take care of her own daughter. But eventually she nodded; it might be better if Dahlia didn't see her as often while she was at her weakest. Chloe squeezed her hand. "Maybe we can find a nanny who is willing to take on light housekeeping duties – and some cooking – that would mean only one extra person around the house." Beca nodded; that would be preferable.
"I can make some phone calls for you," Aubrey offered. "We used an agency when I was still working – I can ask them to send over some resumes and you can choose a few to interview."
"Thank you," Chloe said softly.
The night before the surgery, Beca sat on a video call with her daughters for almost two hours. Every time they were about to say goodnight, they would bring up something new. Finally, Beca called them out on their stalling tactics. "Loves, I have to go. I promise you – I will have mom call you tomorrow after the surgery. I love you so much."
"Love you too, Mama," they all said. They looked tearful. She knew from the background that they were in Vera's bedroom at Emily and Benji's home. At least they were together. She stood from her desk and walked down the stairs to Dahlia's room – Chloe had just finished brushing her hair and was tucking her under the covers. As Beca walked into the room, she saw the small suitcase already packed for a week at Aubrey's. They had chosen seven people to interview for the nanny position – but there wasn't enough time to hire someone and get Dahlia acclimated to them before the surgery.
Chloe and Beca climbed into bed together later that night, despite knowing that they wouldn't sleep. Chloe spooned in behind her wife, wrapping her arm around her waist. Her hand lightly brushed Beca's breast.
"You should probably get in a good grope or two before they're gone," Beca said, falling flat on the joke.
"Beca," Chloe chided. She hated macabre jokes. There was no response – only silence. Until Chloe realized that Beca was shaking – with cries. "Oh, sweetie," she said softly, rolling her over so she could see her. Beca curled into her chest, crying deeply for the first time since the diagnosis had come through. "I'm so sorry." It was all she could think to say. She held Beca until her phone alarm beeped early the next morning. They both showered and tried to hide the fact that they'd spent the night crying.
They didn't wake Dahlia – it was just after four in the morning. Aubrey was already in their kitchen when they entered, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She had already poured a travel mug for Chloe.
"I'll meet you at the hospital after I drop Dahlia off at school," Aubrey promised Chloe. The redhead nodded in thanks. It was a ten hour surgery with both the double mastectomy and the reconstruction that would follow. Jesse entered the kitchen then, having already taken Beca's bags – which had been next to the door – out to Chloe's car.
She smiled weakly when he looked at her. "Don't look at me like that," she told him.
"Like what?"
"Like that," she said simply. "Think of something amusing I did at some point I our lives." His smiled changed - brightened - and she nodded. "That's better," she told him. He hugged her fiercely. Chloe took her hand and led her out to the car, starting the drive to the hospital.
Before she really knew what was happening, Beca found herself sitting on a gurney, her feet freezing in tiny white socks, the rest of her swathed in scrub pants and a hideous white hospital gown with blue specks that tied in the front. Her hair was pulled up into a cap and she was annoyed that the nurse wouldn't allow her to braid it or even put it in a bun herself – it was all shoved up there with no rhyme or reason.
Stacie laughed at her expression when she entered the room. "I wouldn't be laughing if the nurse hadn't just told me about your argument over the braids."
"It's stupid - and unnecessarily messy," Beca told her, fidgeting with her hands. She knew Beca was worried about the surgery – and probably already thinking about the soon-to-be loss of her beautiful mane of chestnut brown hair.
"You're not going to care in five minutes. Are you ready?"
"If I say no, can we undo all of this and make it never happen?"
"I wish," her friend answered honestly. She was not participating in the procedure, but she was allowed to be in the room to observe – and Beca and Chloe had requested it. "The anesthesiologist will be here any minute – so I'm going to send Chloe back in before the nurse comes to give you a sedative." Beca nodded. As soon as Stacie was gone, Chloe appeared, her smile bright as the day they'd met.
Chloe grasped her hands and leaned close, their foreheads touching. "I love you so much – Beca. More than you could ever fathom. And no matter what, we are going to be okay. You are going to go home in a few days – and sometime in the very near future – this is going to be nothing more than a bad dream."
"I'm good with that plan," Beca agreed in a whisper, nodding slightly. Chloe laughed, blinking back tears. "I love you too. Try not to worry too much."
"That ship has sailed," Chloe said, eyes wide as she laughed at the idea. She wiped at the tears that had fallen to her cheeks.
"Try anyway," Beca pleaded. "Let Aubrey distract you – sleep – go for a walk – anything. Don't sit here and worry for ten hours."
"As a wise woman once told my best friend – you are not the boss of me."
Beca smiled. A nurse cleared her throat, having just entered the room. Chloe leaned forward again and their lips met in a chaste but meaningful kiss. "Love you," she whispered one more time, before pulling away. Beca remembered her hands falling away – and then nothing but a nurse appearing beside her, a syringe in hand. They knocked her out quickly – and had her in the operating theater almost as soon as Chloe reached the waiting room.
The redhead was pacing the room, trying to figure out how she was going to keep from climbing the walls all day, when a familiar voice sounded behind her. She turned to see Warren and Sheila Mitchell standing in the doorway. Tears fell as she hurried over to them, throwing her arms around them both.
"You weren't supposed to come," she chided.
"You and Beca are my children – I don't have to listen to you unless I want to," Warren told her. "We didn't want you to be alone." They hadn't arrived earlier because as much as he had wanted to see Beca before the procedure – he hadn't wanted to upset her; she had asked them not to come. But supporting Chloe was important to them, so they had made the flight. Chloe wasn't alone at that day – the waiting room filled as Aubrey and Jesse appeared. More friends had wanted to be there – Cynthia Rose, Jessica, Ashley – they had all wanted to come. If Amy had known about it, she probably would have flown in from Tasmania. But Beca didn't want a fuss – so she'd put her foot down. But between the four who were there, they were able to keep Chloe out of her head for most of the day.
The main surgeon who had been in charge of the procedure – Dr. Adam Brown – appeared in the waiting room around six that evening. Aubrey and Jesse had left earlier in the afternoon to pick up Dahlia from school, but the other three were waiting.
"Mrs. Beale?" Chloe stood but he invited her to sit again. He took a seat across from her.
"These are Beca's parents, Warren and Sheila," she said softly.
The doctor nodded in greeting. "Your wife is doing well," the doctor told her, allowing Chloe to comfortably breathe for the first time in more than ten hours. "The surgery went along with no problem. I was able to remove more of the breast tissue than I thought was going to be possible – which is always good news. The reconstruction went smoothly. Dr. Chen did a fantastic job. I think – once all the dust has settled – Beca will be happy with the end result."
Chloe gave him a stern look and he looked apologetic.
"As happy with it as the situation allows," he amended.
"Thank you," Chloe responded. "When can I see her?"
"She's in recovery now," the doctor responded. "Dr. Conrad insisted on staying with her – and a recovery nurse is there as well. She'll be taken to a regular room within the next hour – and then you'll be able to see her."
When Beca woke, she was sick. Her stomach lurched and her eyes snapped open. Luckily, the recovery nurse had been ready – and had a bucket to her just in time. The stupid cap was gone but someone had fixed her hair into a braid so that it was out of the way. Once the vomiting had stopped, she sipped from the cup that the nurse held for her and swished the water around in her mouth before spitting it out into the bucket. The offending mess was then removed – and Beca felt slightly better. Then the world tilted as the pain settled in. She had absolutely no words to describe it – everything just hurt.
"Oh my God," she said, her breathing becoming heavy.
"Beca?" Stacie was alert then, sitting in front of her, trying to get her attention. "Beca, I need you to calm down. Talk to me –"
"It hurts," Beca was finally able to say, a cry emitting through her lips just after.
Stacie looked at the nurse in concern and confusion; Beca should have been too drugged-up to feel anything. The doctor quickly examined the IV lines and realized that one was clamped shut – the one with the pain medication. If looks could kill – that recovery nurse would have died right then and there. Stacie immediately opened the line – allowing the drugs into Beca's bloodstream. "It's okay, sweetie – it's just going to take a few minutes for the medicine to kick in." Beca didn't question why there had been no medicine before; she was too out of it. Her heart rate and blood pressure were elevated with the pain and Stacie glared again at the nurse, ordering a sedative. Beca was out in under five minutes.
When she woke the second time, she felt nothing. She felt a bit floaty, but there was no pain. But she remembered the pain. Her eyes blinked open and she saw Chloe sitting nearby, watching her. "Hey, Beca," she said softly. "Welcome back." She pulled her chair closer and leaned forward, taking Beca's right hand gently between her own.
"How long was I out?" She asked, her head heavy with exhaustion. He mouth was dry.
"The surgery was finished about twelve hours ago," Chloe told her. "Everything went well." She didn't mention the screw-up with the morphine – which Stacie was still incredibly pissed off about. She picked up a cup of water from the bedside table and held it while Beca sipped from the straw.
Once she was finished, Beca pulled back and nodded. "The girls?"
"They are absolutely fine," Chloe answered, not mentioning that Beca should be worried about herself. "All three of the older girls have class right now – but we can call them when you're feeling a little more up to it. Maybe later today. Dahlia is in school too – I spoke with her this morning before Aubrey took her. She misses you – but she's fine." By the end of that day, at her insistence, Beca was off of the heaviest drugs – onto less brain-fogging pain medication. A physical therapist came to bother her a bit before lunch and showed her a bunch of exercises she was supposed to do so she kept her arms and shoulders from freezing up. Beca did what she was told, but scowled a lot. She cheered considerably when she was able to speak with her daughters that evening – and she actually sounded kind of normal.
Within two days, she was more annoyed – still on drugs – and ready to go home. The nurses had been bothering her since almost the minute she woke to pay attention to what they were doing, changing her bandages and cleaning her ports.
"The drains will be in until your first post-op appointment – which is a week from when you go home," the nurse told her on the third day. "You need to keep them clean and empty them daily."
Beca wrinkled her nose and Chloe could tell she was tuning the woman out. Again. "Mrs. Mitchell – did you hear what I said –"
"Show me," Chloe told the nurse, interrupting. "I'll help when the time comes – Beca's not really focused right now." The fact that she didn't argue with Chloe speaking about her like she wasn't in the room was absolute proof of that fact.
On the fifth day, Jesse helped her into the house and Beca asked him to take her into the living room – which he happily did. She sat on the sofa – she was so tired of being in bed – she needed to stay sitting upright for a while. She felt her frustration fading as she basked in the atmosphere of her own home. Jesse arranged a pillow behind her. Chloe was right behind them, carrying more bags than it seemed like a four night hospital stay should have required. She left them in the foyer and hurried over to her wife. "Are you okay? Don't you want to go lay down for a while?"
"I'm fine," Beca promised. "And no – I want to be right here. I am tired of being in bed – I'll stay here for now."
"Okay," Chloe agreed. She pulled a blanket from the chest between two arm chairs and lay it over Beca, who thanked her. "Do you need anything?"
"Chlo – we just walked in the door. Calm down – I'm fine – I promise." The redhead nodded.
"I'll get you a glass of water."
Once she had left, Beca looked at Jesse with an expression of annoyance. "This is scaring the crap out of her, Bec. Give her a break. Let her coddle you a little."
"A little?" Beca asked.
"Just let her help you. Let us help you."
"I let you help me. You practically carried me in the door," she reminded him, obstinately missing his point. He smiled and shook his head, scuffing his show against her floor.
"You are too much, Beca Mitchell. Too much sometimes."
Before she could respond, Aubrey called out. "We're home!" She yelled, letting them know that she was walking through the door with Dahlia. There was a teacher's in-service day, so the child was off from school. Aubrey and Chloe had talked about keeping her busy while Beca settled in at home - but the brunette had been adamant that she wanted to see Dahlia as soon as possible. The little girl's eyes lit up when she saw Beca. She ran over to her, stopping only when Jesse and Aubrey both yelled at her.
"No, Dahlia!"
"Careful!"
She stopped dead, her lower lip trembling.
"It's okay, love," Beca said, holding out her hands. "They were just worried you were coming in a little too fast. I need to be really careful for a few days, okay? I'm a little sore." Understatement of her life. "So just be gentle."
"Can I hug you?"
"I really wish you would," Beca told her. She held out her arms as much as she could – which still wasn't much – and gingerly hugged her daughter.
"I missed you."
"I missed you so, so much," the woman responded. Dahlia pulled back, looking curiously at Beca's shirt. She was wearing a specially-designed mastectomy camisole with a pouch that held and hid her drains. She wore one of her normal button-down flannels over top. Paired with jeans and her hair done perfectly, she looked pretty normal – if also extremely tired. Dahlia looked perplexed, but she clearly didn't want to say anything in front of Aubrey and Jesse, because she kept looking at them, then back to Beca.
Beca crooked her finger and motioned for Dahlia to come closer. "What's wrong?" She asked softly.
"I thought they were going to take them away," she whispered, eyes glancing again at Beca's chest. The older woman bit back her mirth; she realized now why Dahlia was confused. The reconstruction had left her roughly the same size as she had been before the surgery – so when she was fully clothed, it looked like nothing had changed.
"They did," she whispered back. "But they put in fake ones in their place."
"Why?"
"A lot of reasons - mostly vanity and pride – I'll explain when you're older."
"What are you two whispering about over there?" Chloe asked, walking into the room with a bottle filled with ice water. Dahlia almost knocked her over, running at her and hugging her so hard.
"Hello, pretty girl," Chloe said with a joyful laugh. "I missed you too. I hope you were more careful with mama."
"I was," Dahlia responded, not indicating that it was a direct result of Aubrey and Jesse screaming.
Beca had decided at the hospital that she was not cleaning her drains, that she was not looking at her scars, and that Chloe was also not allowed to do either thing. Therefore, she had to hire a nurse to visit once a day to clean her drains and change her bandages. She wasn't thrilled, but it was – in her mind – better than the alternative. Chloe argued with her, saying that she would help – but Beca insisted that it was her choice – and this was what she wanted. That, and she wasn't ready to admit that she couldn't bring herself to look at – well, any of it.
Beca was home from the hospital for three days when she, Chloe, Aubrey, and Stacie began interviewing Nannies. Beca thought it was overkill for all four to be there – but Aubrey needed her nose in everything and Stacie had some specific needs in mind. Beca was looking for someone to help with Dahlia – Chloe and Stacie were looking for someone to keep an eye on both Dahlia and Beca.
Their lawyer was in the dining room, making all of the candidates sign non-disclosure agreements before meeting with the four women. The world did not need to know that Beca Mitchell was heading into the fight of her life.
They interviewed seven women that day – two were visibly upset when it was revealed that Beca would soon be undergoing chemotherapy and that was why they needed help around the house and with Dahlia. A third woman – girl really – she was eighteen – burst into tears.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Mitchell. My mom – I'm so sorry." She left crying, stunning them all. The lawyer caught up with her, calmed her down, and discovered that her mother had died from cancer when she was twelve. She was not interested in interviewing for the job. Chloe thought they should perhaps be offering to pay for her next few sessions of therapy.
A fourth woman was too "ridiculously cheerful" for Beca. A fifth was far too interested in her for Chloe's liking. They were left with two women that they all agreed would probably work out well. The first was named Annie and she was a graduate student in developmental psychology. She took classes at night but was looking for a way to help ends meet. She came with several years of babysitting experience and came very highly recommended by her references. Aubrey and Chloe had called them all.
The second woman was named Cassie and she was trained as a home nurse and had gone back to school to become an elementary school teacher. She was in her third year and could also carry her course load in the evenings to free herself to help during the day.
Beca didn't want any stranger in her house – but if it had to be, then she didn't mind either of the two they were considering. "I think Dahlia should have a choice," she said finally. They all looked at her oddly, Aubrey had been in the middle of debating Annie over Cassie. "Invite them back tomorrow after school – one at four or so and one at six or seven. She can meet them and decide who she likes better."
"I'm fine that that – if you think Dahlia will understand," Chloe responded.
"I think she'll catch on," Beca answered with a smile. Dahlia met both women that evening and by the end of the week, Cassie was installed in their household with a list of chores from Chloe. She was staying in the hose, which didn't really amuse Beca, but she was trying to deal with it. The girl woke early enough to help get Dahlia ready for school while Chloe got herself ready for work and fawned over her wife. After driving Dahlia to school, Cassie did household chores – mostly staying out of Beca's way – and the small brunette was thankful for that. She still felt odd that the nanny was there when Dahlia was not – but she knew Chloe and Stacie had conspired to get someone into the house to watch her – and they had succeeded.
"Hey, Mrs. Mitchell – I was just going to make lunch – do you want anything specific?" Cassie asked, head popping into Beca's open studio door. The woman's arms and chest were still to tender for her to do any real mixing – she couldn't reach the right dials and buttons – but she was playing around and doing what she could on her computer. She turned her chair to look at the blonde college student in front of her.
"Cassie, you just started this week. Do not make me fire you. What did I say about calling me Mrs. Mitchell?"
"Sorry," she answered, flushing. "Beca – can I get you anything special for lunch?"
"What were you thinking?"
"A turkey sandwich and some fruit?"
"Works for me," Beca responded. She stood and motioned for Cassie to continue back to the kitchen and she followed. She didn't reach for anything – it hurt too much to do that – but she was able to procure a bottle of water for each of them. The blonde was going to take her lunch to her own room – for some reason that Beca couldn't fathom – but stayed in the kitchen when invited.
"This whole situation is sort of odd for all of us," Beca told her. "This is not an old-fashion British class system. You are not a servant – you do not need to disappear when we're around. While you're living here, you're always welcome to eat with us when you don't have other plans."
Cassie nodded and sat with her at the table. She answered Beca's questions about her classes and schooling. "Tell me about your other daughters – they're coming home from school soon for the holiday, right?"
Beca smiled brightly. "Vera is sixteen. She was really far ahead – so she started college early. She's beautiful – they're all beautiful," Beca corrected herself. "Vera is independent and a little wild – she's curious about everything. I've seen that trait coming out in Dahlia too, as she's grown more comfortable."
"Dahlia is amazing," Cassie agreed. "How long has she been with you?"
"Three and a half months," Beca responded. "Some times it seems like she's always been here - and other times, like we were cheated out of the first egiht years." She paused, considering her words before moving on. "And then there are the twins – they're eighteen – they won't turn nineteen until June. Bella has dark hair – a little darker than mine actually – and she's the quietest of the girls, other than Dahlia. She's very introspective – very creative and thoughtful. She likes to measure all of her options before making a decision. She's an avid reader. She's probably read every book in this house at least twice. And Poppy – Poppy is so much like Chloe. She's active and exuberant. She's sunshine personified when she's happy – which is most of the time. But never get between her on her coffee – and if she's in a bad mood – just run away. Far away." Cassie laughed.
"I'll try to remember that. It sounds like you have your hands full."
"Always," Beca agreed.
"I finished Mrs. Beale's list – so I was going to study and do some homework – but do you need anything this afternoon?"
"No," Beca told her. "But thank you. And stop calling Chloe Mrs. Beale. That's weird too." Cassie smiled and Beca continued. "I'm actually sort of tired – so I'm going to go take a nap. I'm sure that will appease my wife and the good doctor. Which one are you answering to? Or is it both?"
Cassie flushed and Beca laughed. "Oh, sweetie – I'm known Chloe and Stacie since before you were born. I know they're making you keep an eye on me. I'll try to make it painless when I can."
"I'm supposed to text them both – several time a day," Cassie admitted. Beca nodded.
"I guess I would be more pissed off if they didn't care. I'll be upstairs. Thank you for lunch." Beca walked slowly to her bedroom – she really was feeling tired and in a bit of pain. She swallowed her afternoon dose of her pain medication and antibiotics and curled up in bed, sleeping until Cassie brought Dahlia home. The child had clearly been held back for several minutes by the new nanny, because she was bouncing by the time they arrived in Beca's bedroom. Cassie placed a glass of ice water on the little table between the sofa and the loveseat, along with juice for Dahlia and a small bowl of cut-up fruit.
Dahlia hurried over to Beca, bouncing as she waited for her mother to sit up. Beca laughed. "Did you have extra sugar today?"
"Danny's mom brought cupcakes for his birthday," Dahlia told her.
"So that's a yes," the brunette said with a smile. She reached out to hug Dahlia and the little girl cuddled immediately into her arms. It was painful for her to not be able to simply throw herself at Beca as she had done before – and still did with Chloe – but she was extremely careful now that she understood that it could hurt her mother.
"Dahlia, why don't you change out of your uniform before you have your snack with your mom?" Cassie suggested. The little girl looked at Beca pleadingly – she did not want to leave, even for a few minutes – she had just gotten there!
"It's fine, Cassie," Beca responded. "She can change after her snack. Thank you."
"I'll be downstairs if you need anything," the blonde told her. "And you can leave the dishes – I'll come back up to get them."
Beca walked over to the sofa and sat. Dahlia sat next to her, but not too close. After Chloe had described where Beca's surgery had been – under her arms as well as along her entire chest – the little girl had been more careful about curling into her side.
"How was school – other than Danny's mom's cupcakes – which I assume were good?"
Dahlia nodded. "They were very good – but the icing was blue. Everyone had blue lips and teeth until Ms. Lauren sent everyone out to the fountain to rinse."
"That was probably a good plan. Twenty blue-toothed third graders might be intimidating." Beca picked up an apple slice and began munching on it while Dahlia chose a grape.
"Why does Ms. Lauren know you're sick? I didn't tell her." She looked a bit alarmed that Beca might think otherwise.
"I know you didn't, love. Mommy told her. We wanted you to have someone else who knew – in case you needed to talk to someone when you weren't at home. I hope that's okay."
"She keeps looking at me all sad and asks if everything is okay."
"She'll back off after a bit," Beca told her. "She's just trying to be helpful."
"Why does she look so sad? Aren't you all better now – since you had the surgery?"
Oh, shit. Beca stared silently at her daughter; how had they screwed up this explanation? She thought they had been thorough – but clearly they had forgotten to clarify something with Dahlia. Where was Chloe? Why was she stuck explaining this herself? She could barely grasp the gravity of the situation – how was she supposed to explain it to her eight-year-old?
Beca turned, wishing so much that she could just scoop the child up into her arms and make this all go away. "Dahlia – when someone has cancer, there are different steps that the doctors had to go through to treat them. The surgery was the first step to get rid of the biggest part of the cancer. But it's sneaky sometimes, and it hides in other places. So the doctors have to give me a really strong medicine called chemotherapy."
"And that's all? Then it will be all gone?"
"We hope so," Beca told her. "But it's not perfect – so we don't know for sure. But the doctors are going to try their very best to make sure it all goes away." That didn't sound final enough for Dahlia.
"What if the cancer isn't gone?"
"Then we keep fighting it until it is," Beca told her. Dahlia seemed content enough with that answer. She finished her fruit, gave Beca a rather-sticky kiss on the cheek, and went to her room to change out of her school clothes.
The reality of the chemotherapy didn't hit Dahlia until she saw it with her own eyes. The doctor had wanted to stay literally the day after all of Beca's incisions had healed over. Once the risk of infection had ceased, it started. Beca was on a regimen where she would go through four cycles – each cycle having four days of intensive chemotherapy at the beginning – the next two and a half weeks enough time for her body to recover before it all happened again. During the four days when she was receiving treatment, she felt okay – she was able to hide the minor nausea and aches from Dahlia and her wife. The fifth morning – the one after the treatments were over – she woke Chloe at three in the morning with her vomiting.
"I'm sorry," she crocked between active spells, feeling her wife's cool hands against her warm skin. Chloe pulled her hair back in a messy bun, keeping it out of danger.
"Don't apologize, Beca. It's not your fault. You should have woken me up."
"To watch me vomit? That seems rude," Beca said sleepily. Her head was lolling as she held onto the porcelain toilet.
"Sweetie – you're finished. Let's get you back to bed."
Beca shook her head. "No. There's more," she insisted. Ten minutes later, there was. Beca vomited again, several times – and Chloe wondered where in the hell it was all coming from – the tiny brunette had barely been able to eat in the past week. Chloe tried again and Beca insisted – again – that there was more. Giving up, the redhead went into their bedroom and brought back a pillow and blanket. She made her wife lay down on the bathroom floor. They remained there for several more hours, Beca sleeping for snippets of ten, sometimes even twenty minutes between getting sick. She had finally stopped around six in the morning and Chloe helped her back into bed – and called herself off work. There was no way she could teach with the amount of sleep she'd gotten.
She only lay back in bed for another hour before she had to get up to wake Dahlia. The little girl woke smiling, as usual, but seemed a little thrown-off her game. Beca was usually the one who woke her. "Is Mama okay?"
"She's feeling sick to her stomach this morning," Chloe told her honestly. "But she'll be okay."
"Can I say good morning?"
"Once you're ready for school – you can come and say goodbye." Dahlia agreed and Cassie arrived in her room then to help her. The blonde smiled at them both and said good morning.
"I'm staying home today," Chloe told her quietly as soon as Dahlia disappeared into the bathroom to brush her teeth. "So you don't need to worry about Beca for now."
"Okay, Mrs. Beale. Please let me know if you need anything." Chloe nodded and thanked the young girl before going back to her bedroom and looking at Beca. The brunette was still deep asleep when Dahlia appeared, wanting to say good morning and goodbye. Chloe told her that if she was very quiet, she could kiss Beca's cheek, so she did.
When Beca woke later that morning, the nausea had abated but she admitted to Chloe that everything hurt. From the roots of her hair to her toes – everything ached. "Let's get you cleaned up in the shower and then maybe a nice warm bath? That might help?" Beca nodded.
She let Chloe help her out of bed and grimaced when she stood. The walk to the bathroom told them both that Beca wasn't going to be able to support herself in the shower – but Chloe was not shy. She undressed them both and took Beca under the spray, helping her wash herself and her hair. As careful as Chloe tried to be, Beca cried when Chloe lathered her hair – that was how much her scalp hurt. The redhead finished quickly. She dried them both, Beca much more carefully, and ran a bath while doing that and helping her wife brush her teeth. She gathered Beca's hair into a loose bun at the top of her head, not willing to do much more for fear of hurting her.
The brunette held on tightly to Chloe but nodded toward the toilet. Chloe helped her over to it and to get settled. "Are you okay if I go in the bedroom?" Beca nodded and Chloe went into the room to give her some privacy. She returned a few minutes later, her hair combed and pulled up neatly, wearing a soft black robe. Beca had made the few feet to the sink on her own to wash her hands and was standing against it, the towel clutched around her as she waited for Chloe.
Within a minute or two, she was in the tub, soaking in the warm water. "Tell me if the jets are too much," she said, her hand reaching inside to turn them on. The water began bubbling to life almost immediately and Beca seemed to appreciate it. "Is that okay?" Beca nodded, sinking back against the tub as Chloe pulled her shoulders, trying to get her into a relaxing position. "Tell me if this is too much," she said softly, rubbing Beca's shoulders and upper back with lotion, working out the knots when she could.
In twenty minutes, Beca was sleeping and Chloe sighed, sitting back against the wall. Chloe let her sleep until the water grew too cold, then woke her. Beca was dry, in new pajamas, and tucked into bed within minutes. The thing that worried Chloe the most was that she never argued - not with anything that had happened since the night before.
Chloe remained home for the rest of that week – it was the last week before her school's Christmas break anyway, so she didn't feel terrible about it.
Dahlia had barely seen Beca for four days – and it had worn on the child. Luckily, the three older girls returned home from college for the Christmas break on the day after Beca began feeling a bit better. Her aches were minimal and the nausea was gone. A general weakness and exhaustion plagued her, but it wasn't nearly what she'd gone through in the first four days after the treatments. Jesse and Aubrey had taken one of the cars and left it in short term parking the day before – so Bella drove them home. Poppy had not been thrilled – Vera had been texting Beca and Chloe about their argument over who was the better driver during the ride.
Once they arrived home, none of it mattered. They were so relieved to see Beca in person – and to be able to hug her. Dahlia had no intention of moving from her spot directly beside Beca, so the other girls hugged their mother around her. "You look really tired," Bella said softly, sitting on the coffee table in front of her.
"I'm okay," Beca promised. "And I'm so happy to see you girls." In all honesty, although she was better than she had been for the three days immediately after the chemo was finished, she was still wiped out. She had no energy. Listening to music wasn't even appealing to her. But she kept pushing through. She spent most of the days in bed – she really didn't have a choice in that matter – but she tried to keep her spirit up.
This was the first time she'd been sitting up all day. Dinner was lively and happy – the girls were thrilled to be home and relieved that the semester was over. Despite being so happy to see them, Beca could barely keep herself awake during dinner. She kissed them all goodnight and went to bed not long after. Despite the early bedtime worrying them, the older girls said nothing.
Bella was curious that evening when her door opened and she didn't see anyone right away. She was lying on her bed, so someone had to be a certain height to be seen from her position – Dahlia was not that height. Bella sat up against the headboard and removed her headphones, watching the little girl intently as she crept into the room. "What's up, Dahlia?" She was stunned when the little girl began crying and opened her arms immediately – which was exactly what the child wanted. She crawled into Bella's arms and cried herself to sleep. Bella held her, rubbing her back gently, trying to understand what had just happened. She tried to ask several times what was wrong, but the little girl never answers - she just cried.
Poppy saw the scene twenty minutes after Dahlia had fallen asleep and looked questioningly at her twin. Bella made a face at her, trying to indicate that she needed help – and a few minutes later – Chloe walked into the room. Her expression darkened when she saw the tear-tracks on Dahlia's cheeks, her dark head of curls snuggled under Bella's chin.
Chloe sat next to Bella, reaching out to run her nails gently along Dahlia's back. "Sorry, sweetie. I think –." She stopped. There was one reason she had sought out Bella – and they both knew it. "You look so much like Mama," Chloe finally said, admitting what was not a secret.
"I figured as much," Dahlia whispered. "It's really bad, isn't it?"
"It's hard," Chloe admitted. "Your mama is usually so strong – and seeing her knocked out by these drugs – it's painful. But she'll be okay."
Bella nodded. She could hear the tears in Chloe's voice. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry you have to go through this alone."
"I'm not alone," Chloe said, her fingers moving to rake softly through Dahlia's hair. "She's tiny. But you forget – when you haven't had little kids in a while – how much personality and life they fit into such tiny bodies. She makes your mama laugh on days when even I don't think it's possible – she was definitely the ray of sunshine we needed without you girls here."
"You mean Poppy," Bella responded, teasing.
"I mean all of you," Chloe answered firmly, her arms wrapping around Bella, her head falling to rest on top of the shorter girl's. "I'm so thankful for every one of you." Chloe eventually lifted Dahlia out of Bella's arms and carried her to her own bed, leaving the eighteen year old worried about her mother and her sister.
On the morning before Christmas Eve, when she woke, Beca hurried to the bathroom. Her bladder was reacting worse to chemo than it had to her pregnancies; she had to pee all the time. She was just thankful that she could again make it there without any assistance. When she returned to the bed, she noticed a dark shadow on her pillow. It was oddly shaped. She reached out to touch it and was crestfallen to realize it was a huge lock of her hair. Sinking to her knees, she buried her face in the bed and cried. Chloe woke and found her that way.
"Beca? What's wrong?" She slid out of bed and knelt next to the smaller woman. "Bec, what happened? Sweetie, I need you to talk to me." Beca shook her head, tears falling at a faster rate. Chloe rubbed her back and held her, trying to sooth her.
Once her tears had slowed, Beca sat back on the carpet, her knees tired and throbbing from the stress of her position. Chloe moved with her, still holding her. "Can you tell me what happened?" She asked softly. There was no answer – but at this angle, she could see Beca clutching something in her hand. Chloe's hand closed over hers and loosened her grip. Her breath hitched when she realized what it was. "Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry."
"It's stupid," Beca said, her voice gruff from tears. "I shouldn't be worried about stupid hair – "
"It's not stupid," Chloe assured her. "You're allowed to feel however you do. And you're not allowed to criticize yourself. This is really heavy stuff, Beca. You have to give yourself room to grieve."
"For my hair?"
"For whatever you feel like you're losing," Chloe told her.
Later that morning, while Chloe was out finishing her Christmas shopping, Beca called Aubrey and asked her for a ride. "Why isn't Chloe taking you?" Aubrey asked as they drove downtown.
"I didn't tell her."
"Why not?"
"She would try to talk me out of it," Beca responded. "It's not worth waiting for the inevitable to happen – I just need to do this." Aubrey dropped her off in front of the salon and parked the car. It was a salon that specialized in caring for women with cancer and other illnesses. Stacie had given Beca the information and the brunette had tucked it away.
When they walked in, they were welcomed immediately. "Welcome to Casal's Salon and Spa. How can we help you today?"
Beca looked blank for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Then she simply began talking. "My doctor suggested I come here – and when I called, the woman said I didn't need an appointment? My hair – you know – started falling out last night."
"No problem, dear, we will take good care of you," the woman said with a bright smile. "Right this way." She led Beca and Aubrey into a private room that was calm and soothing. The lighting was dim, a water fountain gurgled in the corner, and the chairs were the most comfortable things Beca had ever sat in. She sank into one, appreciatively accepting the glass of ice water the woman offered to her.
"I need this chair. Do you think they would notice if we took it?" She asked Aubrey once the woman was gone.
"They might," Aubrey answered, a smirk on her lips. She was thankful that Beca seemed fairly calm. It was not jiving with the report Chloe had given her of the night before. "Beca, I'm sorry about your h—"
"It's just hair," Beca said quickly. "I seriously don't even want to talk about it." She sipped from her water. "How are Andy and Ben?" Aubrey spent the next five minute regaling her with stories of her two teenaged sons, both of whom were heading off to Barden the following year. Their easy conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in," Beca called, sitting up in her new favorite chair.
The women who entered was younger than both of them – perhaps in her late twenties. "You're Mrs. Mitchell?" She asked, smiling at her.
Beca nodded and smiled. "Yes, but please call me Beca."
"Thank you, Beca. I'm Ashley. I'm a hair stylist and wig specialist."
"I didn't know they had those," Beca told her honestly. "Nice to meet you." She started to stand to greet her but Ashley shook her head.
"Please, stay where you're comfortable. May I sit?" Beca nodded and the woman pulled a stool from the corner of the room, sitting in front of her. She looked at Aubrey and Beca waved a dismissive hand in that direction.
"That's just Aubrey. She's my ride. They pump you full of drugs and then won't let you drive anymore."
"Forgive her," Aubrey said. "Beca has a hard time taking anything seriously." Beca made a face at her and Ashley laughed.
"Sometimes humor is the best thing," she said kindly. "You wanted a consultation today? Corrine mentioned that you're starting to experience hair loss?"
Beca nodded. "I actually just wanted to chop it all off – is there much to consult about?" Beca asked, looking at her critically.
"There are options, actually," Ashley told her. "More than you would imagine. We can give you a new style that will look more natural while it thins. We can give you a shorter cut – sometimes alleviating weight helps you keep your hair longer. And if you do want to get rid of it all, we can help you find a wig if you want one."
Beca had unwittingly been playing with one of her brown curls while talking to the woman. She stared at the one between her fingers and pursed her lips. She turned to the stylist with a determined expression. "I don't really want to fight the inevitable – there's no chance I'm keeping it through the treatments – so I'd like to just get rid of it today," she said.
Ashley nodded. "We can do that. Were you interested in a wig?"
Beca nodded. "I have an eight-year-old at home that I'd rather not scare on a daily basis." Ashley smiled. She mentioned nothing of her own vanity, but it was there. She loved her hair – she always had. Losing it and replacing it with nothing was beyond question.
"Alright – we can get started as soon as you're ready. Would you like to look at the wigs first?" Beca nodded. Aubrey helped her out of the deep chair and they followed Ashley into a room that was huge – and filled with hair.
"That's a lot of choices," Beca said. She looked at the stylist. "I really just want something that looks as much like my hair as possible." In a perfect world, she would prefer that her daughters not even know she was wearing wig.
"We can do that," Ashley responded. She led Beca and Aubrey to a section where most of the wigs were a deep chestnut brown.
"They looked pretty real," Beca said, running her ringers through one that curled lightly at the ends.
Ashley nodded. "They've come a long way with synthetic wigs." She showed Beca the three that were almost identical to the color of her hair – and the cut that she normally kept in it. She tried on all three – it was a difficult process to get them on with her real hair underneath – and chose the one she felt looked the most natural. Aubrey agreed with her on the choice.
"It's your choice – but you may want more than one if you plan to wear them every day. We recommend they come back to the shop for cleaning every two weeks – that way, you'll have one to switch out when you're getting the other cleaned. We have a service where we'll pick them up for you and deliver them – so be sure to get that information before you leave."
Beca nodded. "Two of that one is fine." Ashley sent someone into the back to find the correct wigs and led Beca and Aubrey back into the salon. A very familiar redhead was waiting for them, standing next to a salon station, arms crossed. Beca turned to glare at Aubrey.
"I'm sorry, Beca. But you shouldn't be doing this without her," Aubrey said.
"Not your call to make," Beca said angrily. She turned to look at Chloe, who appeared both angry and devastated.
"This is my station," Ashley told Beca, pointing to the chair next to where Chloe was standing. "I'll give you a few moments." Beca nodded her thanks. Aubrey kissed Beca's cheek and whispered an apology in her ear before leaving. Her hand brushed Chloe's arm as she passed her best friend.
"I'm sorry," Beca said, before Chloe could speak. "I didn't want you to have to see this."
"Stop trying to protect me," Chloe begged. "Beca, I want to be here for you. I don't care how upset you think it's going to make me – you can't keep things from me." Beca nodded, looking truly apologetic. Her expression cracked and she shook her head as tears began to form in her eyes.
"You know I'm not good at this stuff. Feelings – and sharing them – and all that crap. I just don't know if I can hold it together with you here," she said finally. "I really don't need you to see this." Crying in front of Chloe was a real possibility. Beca had thought she could fight the emotions with Aubrey in tow, but not her wife.
Chloe knew exactly what she was worried about. The many, many things that plagued her mind. Chloe captured Beca's face in her hands. "Beca, you are beautiful – with a full head of hair or without it. I know you're scared – but that's why I'm here. I can be brave for both of us. I'm not leaving."
Beca nodded, accepting a hug from the taller redhead. Five minutes later, Ashley returned and asked them if they were ready to start. Beca nodded. She closed her eyes as Ashley draped a cape over her shoulders. Chloe pulled up a stool and sat close, reaching out to take her hand. Neither woman watched as Beca's thick locks began to fall. Beca felt it though – and it almost crushed her. She held it together until the clippers came out – shearing away the few inches that the scissors must have left. Her sobs made Chloe's eyes shoot open. She stood in front of the chair, both of her hands holding Beca's, trying to calm her. "It's okay," she promised. "It's okay, sweetie. Almost done." She looked at Ashley, who had stopped, and indicated that she should finish.
"Do you want to see it?" Ashley asked gently.
"Not really," Beca responded shakily. Chloe's eyes were already open, so she did see – and it was as devastating as she feared. It was vain, but Beca's hair had always been so beautiful. Granted, she was gorgeous even without it – but it was one of her trademarks – something she took great pride in. And it was gone. Chloe bit her lip, hard, refusing to cry. She had promised to stay strong and intended to do just that.
"That's okay," the stylist told her. She slipped a thin fabric cap onto Beca's head. "This is a skullcap – you want to wear one under your wig. Otherwise, it will get itchy and sweaty. You also need to keep your head covered if you're not wearing the wig – your doctor will tell you that if she hasn't already. Any kind of hat is fine – but around the house, you might want something soft and breathable. We have lots of choices here – and catalogs you can take home to look through." Beca nodded, her eyes still closed. Chloe held her right hand, stroking it gently.
"Let's go into this room over here – and I'll show you how to put the wig on and how to take care of it." Ashley led them to a private room, this one better lit – it was filled with cosmetics and hair accessories.
By the time they left the salon, Beca had practiced putting the wig on – and taking it off again – a dozen times. "It looks very realistic," Chloe told her as they walked to the car. Her arm was looped through Beca's, holding her steady. Though she wouldn't admit it, the brunette was exhausted. She didn't notice the man across the street taking their picture.
Beca took a nap when she got home – she was so tired. But by the time the girls returned from their own day of last-minute shopping, she was awake again. She studied herself in the mirror, touching up her makeup and checking the wig. It looked fake to her – but then again, she knew it was.
She walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to begin dinner. Or, in the most likely case, watch Chloe prepare dinner.
Dahlia was Beca's first trial with the wig – and the little girl had no idea. She looked at Beca oddly. "Did you get a haircut?"
"Something like that," Beca responded.
"It's pretty," she said, smiling brightly.
"Thank you," Beca said, kneeling down in front of her and hugging her close. "You always know just the right thing to say." She pulled back, tickling the child and causing her to laugh. The other girls knew – at least she was certain Bella and Poppy did – but they said nothing, kissing Beca's cheek and hugging her in greeting.
An hour later, dinner was almost ready, and she was watching the news when her world suddenly became front-line gossip.
"Sources confirm that multi-Grammy award winning producer, singer, and songwriter Beca Mitchell is battling cancer," the woman said in her most important television voice. Beca spun around to look at the television. She paused it with the remote control and looked over at Dahlia, who was listening to her iPod while coloring. She walked over to the little girl and patted her hand gently, gaining her attention. Dahlia slipped the headphones to her neck and looked up.
"Hey, Love. Can you do me a favor and take your things upstairs and get cleaned up for dinner? And pick a book for tonight. We finished Mr. Popper's Penguins last night, right?" Dahlia nodded. She put her crayons carefully back into the box and picked them up, along with the small stack of coloring books. Once she was upstairs, Beca hit play on the television.
The news was showing a photo of her and Chloe leaving the salon. "Mrs. Mitchell, along with her wife Chloe Beale, was photographed today leaving an upscale salon and spa in Hollywood that caters to women battling disease. No news yet on what type of cancer – but there have also been sightings – as yet unconfirmed with photographs - of Mrs. Mitchell receiving chemotherapy treatments at UCLA's cancer center."
Beca turned off the television and picked up her phone. She dialed her lawyer and agent collectively, telling them to squash it. Bella and Poppy came running down the stairs, eyes wild – they had seen the news headlines on social media.
"Sorry, Mama," Poppy said, once they realized that she knew.
"It's okay, love," Beca assured her. She shrugged. "Apparently, people like my music, so the rest of the world is allowed to know anything they want about my life." She tried not to be bitter or sarcastic often, but the older girls understood. Bella stayed to help her with dinner while Poppy went in search of Chloe to let her know what had happened.
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