"So, Jesus told me that he's going to figure something out, and that I need to stop worrying about it and worry about myself," I tell Taylor everything.
"Well, maybe he's right," She says, "I just mean that your moms are going to find a way to get the money and it's not your problem to deal with, especially not while you're sick, you have to focus all of your energy on getting better, " She strokes my hair.
"But there won't be a me to focus on if we run out of money," I look at her, she looks hurt, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just don't want it to come to that," I wrap my arms around her and let her head rest on my shoulder.
"Neither do I," She looks up at me, "Can we just forget all of this stuff for a little while and pretend it's all fine?" She kisses me, a long, lingering kiss.
"Really? A make-out session, while I'm like this?" I gesture down at my frail and weak body. I feel so ugly.
"You look hot to me," She kisses my neck, sending shivers down my spine, I kiss her back and she rolls on top of me, she runs her fingers through my hair. I kiss her harder, but she stops and pulls away.
"What's wrong?" I ask her, but she looks down at her hand.
"Your hair…" Tangled in her fingers is a clump of my brown hair, it's already started to fall out, I take it from her.
"Oh, that's happening now," I sit up, she moves off of my lap and sits next to me.
"Are you okay?" She asks. I run a hand through my hair and more comes out.
"Uh, yeah, I just didn't think this would happen so fast, it's only my first week of chemo," I feel my eyes fill with tears, but I squeeze them out and wipe them away.
"Your treatment's aggressive, so that's probably why, and why you got so sick straight away," She holds my hand, "Here," She picks up the trash bin and holds it in front of me. I hesitate for a second and then drop the locks in. I get up, and walk over to the mirror, it doesn't look like it's thinning too bad, no one would notice yet.
"Whatever," I turn back to Taylor, "It's just hair," I climb back into bed and snuggle up with her, my head on her chest and her arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe and warm. I can't help but let out a few tears, she doesn't react, she just strokes my arms and kisses me. Neither of us is in the mood now, and I feel uglier than I did before.
A couple of hours later, after Taylor leaves and it's time for dinner, I slide on one of Callie's old hats. I know my hair isn't noticeable yet, but I feel better with on. Until I get downstairs.
"Nice hat," Jesus sneers and mocks me. I swat his arm.
"Are you cold honey?" Mama rushes over to me immediately wraps her sweater around me.
"Uh, yeah a little," I adjust the sweater, so it reaches my fingertips, "But other than that I'm feeling better today, only puked a couple of times," This is somewhat of an achievement for me when you consider the fact that over the past couple of days I've puked just about as much as I've breathed.
"Well that's good, love," Mom makes my plate and hands it down the table to me.
"Yeah, I guess," I'm worried, I can't help it. I know I shouldn't worry about the money and I swear I'm trying to leave it with my moms, but it just feels so impossible. And on top of that, I'm getting more and more concerned that the chemo won't get rid of my cancer at all and I'll be dead within a matter of months, maybe even weeks. But I don't express anything, not right now, everyone's just getting their head around it. If I start panicking about dying, then all of my siblings will too, and moms don't need that. They told me to talk to them about anything, and I will, just not here in front of everyone. But does that mean I should bring up the money? I guess there's no point, no matter what they say to me I'm going to be stressed out about it.
After everyone is finished eating, I'm still pushing my food around my plate as they all clean up around me. I've had a better appetite today but it's my anxiety about everything that's making me lose it again. My brothers and sisters all disappear to go out with their friends, while moms sit back down at the table with me.
"Moms," I say quietly, almost hoping they don't hear me, so I don't have to talk about my feelings.
"Yeah, sweetie?" Mom looks up from her phone, notices the tears in my eyes and tucks her phone away in her pocket, "What is it, love?" She reaches across the table to hold my hand.
"I'm just," I look at their faces, they're worrying already, "I'm scared," My voice shakes, they shoot up out of their seats and come to comfort me, rocking me.
"I know, we are too, but you know what? It's going to be okay; you are going to be okay," Mama says, "Before you know it you'll be back at school with your friends and going on dates with Taylor,"
"Yeah and you'll be back talking us again in no time," Mom jokes, "There's that smile," She pinches my cheek, "We know how daunting all of this must be, but you know we're always here right?" I nod, "You're so cold," She warms up my hands with her own, "Come on let's get you tucked up in bed,"
"I have some paperwork to get on top of, but I'll come and say goodnight to you baby," Mama says.
Mom helps me get up the stairs, the crying has worn me out, she sits me down on my bed and grabs a pair of my socks.
"When I'm sick I like to bundle up as warm as possible," She starts pulling the fluffy socks on to my feet, and wraps a blanket over my shoulders, "Is that better?" I nod, "Here, lay down," She starts to fluff up my pillow, but she suddenly stops. Then she looks at me, pain in her eyes.
"What?" I ask her, looking over to the pillow that is carpeted with my hair, "Oh, that," I brush the strands away into the trash, "It just started happening," I lay back on my bed and curl up in all of the blankets.
"Why didn't you say something, love?" She brushes a few strands off of my cheek but they end up tangled in her fingers.
"I don't want anyone making a big fuss over it, it's just hair, please don't tell the others about this mom," I beg her.
"Okay, love, I won't," She holds my hand, "How about tomorrow me and you head into town and we find you some of your own hats?" She tries to seem collected, but I can tell she's sad for me.
"No, that's okay, I was hoping I could spend the day with Taylor, it's the weekend and she's cleared her schedule for me," I tell her.
"Yeah, of course, love, what's the plan?" She asks. Since I've been sick, she and mama are so much more interested in my relationship with Taylor than ever before.
"Well, probably watch some movies, and then if I'm feeling up to it we were gonna go get lunch somewhere," Her face goes from smiling to a furrowed concerned brow.
"Gracie," She sighs, "I don't think you should be going out anywhere alone,"
"I won't be alone," I laugh, "I'll be with Taylor,"
"I mean without me or mama there,"
"Why not? What's the big deal we're just going to some café," I argue.
"What if something happened and we weren't there to help you," She tries to convince me it's a bad idea.
"Taylor will help me, please mom, just for an hour or two," I beg again, "You can even drop us off and pick us up if it would make you feel better," I say. She takes a moment to think about it.
"I'll talk to mama, okay? We'll talk tomorrow, just try to get some rest now love," She hands me all of my pills and my water bottle.
"Okay, love you," I swallow the lump of white capsules with a mouthful of water.
"Love you too," She kisses me and switches off the light.