Chapter 7: There's No Fault in our Stars
Emma spent Christmas day exactly how she'd known she'd spend Christmas day when she looked at a calendar and realized it would fall on the Sunday post chemo treatment 2A - curled up on the couch in sweats, covered in three different blankets.
Funnily enough, besides the lack of alcohol and the consumption of significantly less food, it wasn't all that different than how she usually spent Christmas. Actually, she found the fact that this year she could blame her lack of celebration on the fact that she couldn't as opposed to because she didn't have anyone to celebrate with almost soothing in a way. Sure she felt awful but the sting of the holidays was a little duller than usual.
Around eight in the evening, Emma stood from the couch, wrapping one of the three blankets around her shoulders and moving over to the window. She leaned against the windowsill and stared at the world below. Snow still blanketed the ground and under the soft glow of the street lights it seemed peaceful. Staring at the snow covered ground she couldn't help but think of Regina and the snowstorm that had stranded her in Boston. It had been a nice night. She smiled remembering Regina's text message, remembering that Regina had thought it was a nice night too. It made Emma's heart flutter strangely.
She stared out the window a moment longer before she shuffled to her bedroom, tired and ready to give up on the day, ready for it to be tomorrow when she would feel at least a little better.
As she entered the room, she eyed her phone, which had been on her nightstand all day. She was still thinking about Regina's earlier text message and she sat on the edge of her bed, reached for her phone, and reread the exchange.
She gnawed on her lip and typed out a new message.
Hope you had a good day. I was just thinking...I have an appointment Wednesday afternoon at the cancer centre. Would you maybe want to go to dinner after your volunteer shift ends? I kinda want to make it up to you for only having soup to feed you the other day.
Emma wasn't really sure what she was doing. Making this kind of invitation wasn't like her at all. She didn't usually invite friendship. She preferred to be alone. Or, at least, that was the carefully crafted lie she told herself. But there was something about Regina. Something intriguing and something that drew Emma in. Something that made her want to go out on a limb and invite Regina to dinner and risk her saying no.
Emma gnawed her lip a moment longer and then set her phone back down on the nightstand, pushing herself up and off the bed and heading into the bathroom.
She brushed her teeth as carefully as she could, annoyed that even the mildest of toothpastes she could find, which she'd purposely purchased thinking it would help, was aggravating to her mouth. She stared at herself in the mirror as she scrubbed her teeth lightly, sighing at her increasingly scraggly hair and general poor appearance. Her eyebrows seemed thinner now too, she decided. She supposed hair was hair and it was all in jeopardy. Heck, she hadn't had to shave her armpits in three weeks - the only advantage she'd found in this whole cancer thing so far.
She spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth out before she headed back to her room, where she was greeted by the blinking blue light on her phone that signalled a message.
She climbed into bed and grabbed her phone, smiling as she read the message.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with the soup. Regardless, dinner on Wednesday sounds lovely.
xxxxxx
"How do you feel about flow charts?"
Emma blinked slowly, staring uncertainly at the red headed doctor sitting across from her, "Umm...they're okay?"
Dr. Zelena West, the radiation oncologist, grinned at Emma, "Weird question, I know. You just never know when a patient is going to be categorically adverse to flow charts."
Really? Emma tried to keep her disbelieving expression contained but she wasn't sure she was succeeding. She was fairly certain this doctor was just trying to put her at ease but so far it wasn't really working. She bit her lip and waited for whatever was going to come next.
"Ahh. A tough nut to crack, I see," Dr. West smiled slyly, pulling a blank sheet of paper out of Emma's patient folder and pulling a pen out of her pocket. She settled the folder on her knees, placing the blank piece of paper on top of it, and uncapping the pen, "Well, as long as you are not in the categorically adverse to flow charts group, I'm going to draw you one to help you understand what we're about to talk about."
Emma nodded, still saying nothing. She watched as Dr. West drew two branches on the blank sheet of paper and wrote PET positive and PET negative as headings for each branch, making sure Emma could see it.
"Alright," Dr. West said, "As you know, after your next treatment, you'll be getting another CT scan and another PET scan. We'll start by looking at the results from the PET scan. If the PET scan shows signs of active disease, we'll consider it positive and you'll be on this branch of the flow chart," she tapped the place on the paper that said PET positive and then added a line below it, jotting down the word Add radiation. "If the PET scan is positive, then radiation will be a necessity. Combined modality treatment in that case will offer us the best shot at getting you in remission."
Emma swallowed, nodding her understanding, even as her heart began hammering loudly in her chest. These kinds of conversations always left her feeling quickly overwhelmed, heavy weight pressing on her chest. She gnawed on her lip as Dr. West turned her attention to the PET negative branch of the flow chart.
"On the other hand, if the PET scan is negative, then we will have to turn to the results of the CT scan to help us make a decision." Dr. West added two branches underneath PET negative, one said CT scan - nodes less than 2 cm, the other said CT scan - nodes greater than 2 cm. "Now, regular lymph nodes are usually less than 1 cm but we're expecting there to be some scar tissue in your lymph nodes, so we're not necessarily looking for your nodes to shrink down to 1 cm but we are hoping to see them reduced to less than 2 cm. As long as that's the case, then you won't need radiation and you'll just need to finish your last two cycles of chemo."
"Okay," Emma said slowly, her heart still hammering loudly in her chest. This was clearly the branch of the flow chart she wanted to be on. She was scared to hope for that to happen though.
Dr. West jotted that down on the flow chart with a single line connecting it to CT scan - nodes less than 2 cm, and then added two more lines under CT scan - nodes greater than 2 cm. "If the nodes haven't shrunk that much though, then we will find ourselves in a bit of a grey area."
"A grey area?" Emma couldn't help but repeat, her words quiet and just a little horrified. Everything about cancer felt a little horrifying it seemed. There was absolutely nothing reassuring about hearing her treatment plan might end up in some area classified as grey.
"Yes," Dr. West nodded seriously, "the issue is that all of the previously published studies were done prior to the use of PET scans. It's possible, maybe even probable, that a negative PET scan is a good enough indicator that you've had a complete response to treatment but it will require a number more years and a number more studies before I can say that with certainty. Because of that, we would want there to be some kind of increase in treatment, to mitigate the chance of relapse."
Emma rubbed the back of her neck, waiting for Dr. West to continue.
Dr. West jotted a few words under each branch underneath the grey area branch of the flow chart, 6 cycles ABVD and 4 cycles ABVD + radiation. She showed it to Emma and explained, "So either we add the radiation or we increase the number of chemo cycles to 6."
Emma's brow crinkled as she thought about that, uncertain she really understood, "Why are there two options?" After all, if the PET scan was positive, apparently radiation was the only option.
Dr. West nodded, as if she expected that question. When she spoke, it was in the serious doctor tone, "With young adults such as yourself we have to concern ourselves with the late effects that treatment may have. Radiation does come with a slightly reduced rate of recurrence over just chemo but the tradeoff is increased late effects. In your case, because you have cancer in your mediastinum, the radiation field would include your chest, which does increase the risk of heart disease and breast cancer. So, we really only want to use radiation if we think your risk of relapse is higher than average. That's why, if the PET scan is positive, we recommend the addition of the radiation. The risk of relapse is high enough in that case that the risk associated with radiation tends to become tolerable. If the PET scan is negative though, we generally leave it up to the patient to decide if they'd rather add more chemo or add radiation."
Emma's eyes widened. Wait. What? The treatment for her cancer could give her cancer? And there was a possibility they weren't just going to tell her what to do? She might have to decide? Emma sighed. Things just kept getting better and better. She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.
xxxxxx
Thankfully Regina's volunteer shift was already over by the time Emma was done with her appointment with Dr. West because just the thought of setting foot in the chemo suite on a non-chemo day made Emma queasy.
They met in the lobby and Emma drove them to a nearby restaurant. A little Italian place she'd discovered in her first few months of living in Boston. It wasn't a fancy place by any means but it was one of her favourites. She was finally far enough out from her last chemo treatment that the thought of eating wasn't completely repulsive and she actually smiled to herself as she had a quick glance at a menu that she basically knew by heart, quickly deciding what she was going to order. It was the first time she'd had a craving for something specific in weeks, it was a pleasant realization.
"So, how was your appointment today?" Regina asked from across the table, setting her menu down on the table and folding her hands over it.
Emma shrugged her shoulders, reaching her hands up to adjust the knit hat on her head - it was a grey one that matched the sweater she was wearing. "It was…" Emma was going to say that it was okay but something stopped her, "interesting?" she settled for, which was slightly closer to the word she actually wanted to use to describe the appointment - horrifying.
Regina quirked a curious eyebrow. "How so?" she asked, reaching for the water glass in front of her and taking a sip.
Emma hesitated a moment but then she thought what the heck. She adjusted in her seat so that she could pull a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. It was the flowchart, which Dr. West had given her to keep at the end of the appointment. She unfolded the paper, smoothing it out as she set it on the table between them, "I have to have some scans after my next treatment. The appointment was to talk about what will happen after that. Turns out that it's so complicated that it required a helpful diagram," she smiled ruefully at that last part, adding sarcastically, "a cancer diagnosis should come with a complimentary PhD, since you're apparently expected to learn and understand all kinds of crazy stuff."
Regina's lips twitched at the joke, but her expression got serious, her lips pursing as she studied the paper, a well manicured finger reaching out and tracing the path from PET negative, down and through CT scan - nodes less than 2 cm, to finish at 4 cycles ABVD. She looked up at Emma, "So this is the one we're keeping our fingers crossed for?"
Emma's heart did a strange flip at the word we're. It wasn't the uncomfortable hammering that had occurred during her appointment with the radiation oncologist, it was something more pleasant. "Yes," she smiled slowly. She hadn't come here intending to share this information with Regina but there was something about having shared it that made her feel like the weight that seemed to be constantly pressing on her chest was just a little lighter. As if one person besides her sending up a signal to the universe might make a difference in the outcome. She knew it was a ridiculous thought but it didn't make it any less comforting.
Regina smiled too.
Emma reached for the paper, folding it back up and shoving it back into her pocket as the waiter approached to take their orders.
"You know," Regina said, after the waiter had gone, "I don't know how you do it."
Emma's brow crinkled in confusion, "Do what?"
There was something like admiration on Regina's face as she watched Emma carefully, "Manage to seem so…" she hesitated, as if struggling to find the right word, "calm. Strong." She swallowed, still eyeing Emma with brown eyes filled with softness, "If I had cancer, I think I would be a basket case."
Emma couldn't stop the blush from creeping up her neck and into her cheeks at the compliment. Not that she actually agreed with Regina - she felt nothing but weak all of the time - but it was sort of nice to hear that Regina thought so. Emma laughed it off though, shaking her head, "Oh trust me, you could weave a full on basket with the inside of my brain, for sure."
Regina stared silently a moment but then she shrugged one shoulder and laughed too, "I'll have to take your word for it."
xxxxxx
The morning of chemo treatment number 2B, Emma's fourth, began the same as the previous one. Emma waiting on the curb for Regina, Regina insisting that it was much too cold for her to wait outside and that Emma should have stayed in the building until she got there, them squabbling over who was going to pay for the parking, Regina winning the who was going to pay for parking argument, and then them pausing at the antiseptic dispenser to clean their hands.
This time it was Regina who seemed to hesitate, "So," she said carefully, "I was thinking I would run down to the cafeteria and grab some coffee. Did you want one? I can bring it up to the lab."
Emma blinked at her confused a moment. She'd expected Regina to do the same thing she'd done two weeks ago and disappear to read a book or something similar until her volunteer shift started. "Umm…" she nodded, smiling, "Yeah sure that would be great."
Regina smiled too, "What do you take in your coffee? Or would you rather something different?"
"Coffee is good. And just cream," Emma replied, "Thanks."
xxxxxx
Regina headed for the stairs that would take her to the basement cafeteria and Emma headed for the lab, where she checked in, got her little ticker tape number marking her place in line, and found a seat with the most empty chairs surrounding it, dropping her shoulder bag onto one of the seats to save it for Regina. She wasn't exactly sure if Regina was planning to sit with her until her volunteer shift started but Emma was sort of hoping that would be the case.
She'd only been sitting a few minutes when she noticed a young man at the lab check in counter, handing over his ID and chatting animatedly with the nurse behind the had short brown hair and looked to be no older than mid thirties. Emma sort of felt bad when she realized she was staring, the exact thing that drove her crazy when everyone here did it to her, but she still couldn't seem to look away. The man finished talking to the nurse, put his ID back in his wallet, and spun around, his eyes searching the room for a seat. Emma started to look away when his gaze swept in her direction but she wasn't quick enough and their eyes connected. Strangely the man didn't scowl at finding her staring but smiled instead and, even more strangely, started moving towards her.
There was something not quite natural about his gate but Emma couldn't quite pick out what it was until he sat himself down in the chair beside her and his pant legs rode up a bit, revealing that his right leg was prosthetic.
"Hey there," he smiled at her as he adjusted his pant legs back down, "I'm August. But don't worry this isn't the Fault in our Stars...unless your name is Hazel Grace, then I'm getting up and running in the other direction."
"Huh?" Emma's brow crinkled in confusion, having absolutely no clue what this guy was talking about.
Clearly sensing her confusion, August clarified, "You know. The Fault in our Stars. The book slash movie." When Emma just kept staring at him in complete confusion, he added, "The one with the young guy named Augustus with bone cancer and a prosthetic leg? Dates a girl named Hazel Grace with metastasized thyroid cancer? Any of this ringing any bells?"
Emma pressed her lips into a line, her eyes widening slightly into a sceptical face as she shook her head. "No, sorry."
"Well that's a bad start to a conversation," August shook his head, chuckling lightly, "Please tell me you've at least seen 50/50?"
Emma made the same face again shaking her head no.
"Deadpool?"
Another head shake in the negative.
"Oh come," August groaned jokingly, "You've seriously consumed no cancer related entertainment? What kind of awful cancer patient are you?"
He was clearly just teasing her but Emma wasn't sure how she felt about it. He was so forward. Talking like they were friends, like they'd known each other for awhile, instead of what they actually were - strangers who'd just met.
August must have sensed her unease because he shot her an apologetic lopsided smile and said, "Sorry. Why don't I try that again. Hi," he gave her a half wave, "My name is August Booth. I had osteosarcoma six years ago when I was 29 and then again four years ago when I was 31. I just wanted to say hi because I remember how isolating it was to be here surrounded by people who are all way older than you and who look at you like you are the elephant in the room."
Emma relaxed, offering him a tentative smile, "It definitely is strange being the only person…" she paused, realizing that wasn't quite right, "I guess not only...but close to the only person my age in this place."
"Mmhm," August nodded in understanding and then he eyed her sort of expectantly.
It only occurred to Emma then that she hadn't reciprocated his introduction, "I'm Emma Swan by the way. I have Hodgkin's Lymphoma."
August gave that same understanding head nod, his lips twitching up into a rueful half-smile, offering sarcastically, "Chemo is a real blast, huh?"
"Oh yes," Emma smirked, speaking just as sarcastically, "the best time I've ever had." She shook her head, chuckling softly as she looked around the room. She brightened as she spotted Regina walking into the lab waiting room. Sitting up a bit straighter and catching her eye, Emma waved Regina over.
Regina smiled when their eyes met and she moved with purpose over towards Emma, pausing in front of her and holding out one of the two cups in her hand for Emma to take.
"Thanks," Emma smiled, taking the cup from Regina, wrapping her fingers around it and watching as Regina's eyes slid from her over to August curiously, or maybe more like suspiciously. "Oh," Emma said, calling Regina's attention back to her, "This is August, we just met." She turned her head to look over at August, "August, this is Regina."
"Hi," August smiled at Regina, tipping his head in a sort of nod, "Pleasure to meet you."
"Hello," Regina said, her face unreadable.
Emma sipped on her coffee, watching the two of them curiously.
"I was just telling Emma that she's an awful cancer patient," August said to Regina, smirking quickly over at Emma.
Regina's eyes narrowed and she seemed almost angry.
Emma rushed to explain, "He's kidding. It was a joke because I haven't seen a bunch of cancer movies he mentioned."
Regina relaxed, although she still didn't seem thrilled. She took a seat in the chair opposite of Emma and August before Emma could lift her shoulder bag from the seat beside her and offer the chair she'd been saving. Regina crossed a leg over one knee and sipped on her coffee watching Emma and August but saying nothing.
"So," August turned his attention back to Emma, "Am I the first cancer patient close to your age that you've met?"
Emma nodded.
"Thought so," August nodded his head seriously.
Emma's nose scrunched up. Not at all sure what that was supposed to mean.
August smiled easily, "It's a pretty safe bet in a place like this. It helps though, you know. Knowing other young adult cancer survivors, people who get it."
Emma's nose didn't unscrunch and she couldn't help but look over at Regina. The other woman was still sipping her coffee. She was clearly listening to the conversation but her face was still unreadable. Emma tipped her head back towards August, smirking at him, "You're kind of sounding like a bad motivational poster. If this was one of those cancer films you mentioned, would this be the part where you try and talk me into going to a support group?"
August's lips twitched into an amused smile, "Do you want to be talked into going to a support group?"
Emma shook her head, "No." She had no desire to sit around in a group and talk about her feelings. That actually sounded awful.
August chuckled lightly, "Then, no, that's not what this is." He shrugged his shoulders, "I was going to suggest I give you my number though. In case you ever wanted to gripe to someone who gets it."
Emma glanced back at Regina, feeling bad that this conversation was completely excluding her. She waggled her eyebrows jokingly, "He sure likes that line."
Regina smirked slowly, her eyes tipping in August's direction, "Emma's right. You sound like a bad motivational poster. Talk to someone who gets it, you'll feel better," she mocked with just enough teasing in her voice to make it acceptable instead of rude.
August grinned sheepishly, shrugging a shoulder unbothered, "I stand by it. There's nothing better than being able to say to someone, I haven't shit in days, and have them nod in understanding instead of look horrified."
As if proving his point, Regina's eyes widened in horror at the same time as Emma snorted, barely containing a wave of what would certainly be uncontrollable laughter.
Emma looked over at August, "I thought it was only me." It wasn't exactly true, she knew it was a side effect of the medication and she couldn't be the only one, but it was still a side effect that she wouldn't dream of mentioning to anyone.
August grinned wider, laughing, "That's what everyone thinks."
Emma let herself laugh then too, shaking her head as her eyes drifted over to Regina, whose expression had settled back into unreadable. She shook her head again, her laughter simmering back down. "Okay," she said, looking over at August.
"Okay?" August tilted his head.
Emma forked out her phone and handed it over to him, "I'll take your number. Just in case."
xxxxxxx
Emma was called back into the lab shortly after August handed her back her phone. Emma stood and asked Regina to hold her coffee cup. Regina took it with a nod, watching Emma walk towards the nurse calling her name. She kept her eyes on Emma until she'd completely disappeared from sight and then with a sigh, she turned her attention to the man still sitting across from her. She didn't understand the flurry of jealous anger that fluttered through her chest as she laid her eyes back on him but it aggravated her. It was unacceptable Stop it, she hissed internally to her brain.
"So…" August ran a hand through his hair as he appraised her, "you and Emma?…" he trailed off, leaving it hanging like a question.
Regina's lips pursed as she tried to sort out what he was asking.
"It's nice," August clarified, although a bit hesitantly, "that Emma has a significant other supportive enough to come with her to chemo days."
Regina's eyes widened as she suddenly realized the misunderstanding. For a split second she considered not correcting him, but just as quickly as she thought it, she berated herself internally. She shook her head at August, "Emma and I aren't...together."
"Oh," it was August's eyes that widened this time, "Sorry...I shouldn't have assumed."
Regina said nothing just stared at him.
His hand reached up to run through his hair again, "It's nice, regardless. That you're here. That she has support. It makes a difference."
Regina's brow crinkled into a frown at that but this time she didn't correct him. She wasn't sure exactly how to explain that she was just someone who volunteered here, that she was just Emma's ride, because she wasn't even sure if that was all she was anymore. Having dinner together last week signaled a shift, hadn't it? That was most definitely friend behaviour, right? At least, Regina felt like Emma was her friend. She'd even called Emma as much when Kathryn had asked about her on Christmas Eve.
Thankfully Regina never had to come up with an answer for August because Emma emerged from the lab, tube dangling from her chest down the front of her sweater, her hands rubbing, almost nervously, against the her loose fitting jeans. She paused a second before walking over to stop between August and Regina.
"All set?" Regina asked, an eyebrow quirked in Emma's direction, handing back the coffee cup she'd been holding for Emma.
"Yeah," Emma nodded, taking the cup with one hand, her other hand rubbing against the side of her leg again, "Did you...uh...want to come up with me? Until your shift starts?"
That had been Regina's plan but there was something about Emma's sudden almost uncertainty, like she couldn't quite believe that Regina would want to come with her, that made her smile softly, her heart fluttering with fondness, "Of course I would."
The response was rewarded with a bright smile. Emma stared a Regina a moment longer, until Regina was on her feet and ready to leave, and then Emma turned to look at August, "Bye August. It was nice to meet you."
"Bye," August smiled, waving at the both of them as they walked out of the lab together.
xxxxxx
Regina sat with Emma in the waiting room in the hematology clinic until she had to leave to go check in for her shift.
Now Emma was sitting in an exam room across from Belle.
Belle was holding out a sheet of paper for Emma to take, explaining, "These are your appointment times for your interim scans. CT scan is scheduled for Monday at 11 and PET scan is scheduled for Tuesday at 10. Is that okay?"
Emma bit her lip as she took the sheet, nodding her agreement to Belle even as dread settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. The flurry of nerves wasn't exactly unexpected. Of course she would be nervous about tests that would confirm whether or not her treatment was working well enough. But the intensity of the sudden flurry of nerves was overwhelming.
xxxxxx
The rest of the day passed as it usually did and before long Regina was dropping Emma off in front of her apartment.
Emma was exhausted and, even though a part of her wanted to invite Regina up, she knew that what she really needed right now was sleep. Sleep would hopefully untangle the knot in her stomach that twinged painfully every time she remembered the appointment sheet Belle had given her which was now burning a hole in her shoulder bag. "Thanks again," she smiled tiredly.
"It's not a problem. Now go get some rest, you look like you're in danger of falling asleep right here," Regina smirked.
Emma chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she shook her head, reaching for the door handle of the car, opening it before looking back at Regina, "See you in two week?"
"Yes," Regina confirmed with a smile.
xxxxxx
Emma thought the nerves would get better once she'd actually had the scans but, if anything, they got worse. She was agitated and the more she tried to not think about what those scan results would say, the more she couldn't seem to think about anything else.
She knew that the results wouldn't be completely awful since her oncologist had already pointed out that things were shrinking, not growing. Yet, that knowledge wasn't enough to quell the knots in her stomach. She desperately wanted the results to align with the flow chart branch where she would only need to finish her already scheduled chemo. She wanted that so badly that it almost hurt. But she hated hated hated how desperately she wanted it. Thing didn't go her way. She knew better than to hope too hard. Knew better than to want anything too badly. So, no matter how hard she tried not to think about it, she just kept coming back to the other options. Just kept wondering what it would be like to be told her PET scan was positive, or that her nodes hadn't shrunk enough. Just kept wondering if more treatment would be enough in those cases. Or if… she always stopped herself before she completely finished that thought. Always stopped herself before she could dwell for more than a second on the 10%. She couldn't let herself think about what it would be like to be in that 10%, even if her brain kept trying and trying and trying to drag her over there.
Wednesday morning, a week after her last chemo, and the day after her PET scan, she stood in front of the mirror and nearly cried. She was so sick of the incessant inner dialogue that refused to give her a moment of peace. So sick of the knots in her stomach. So sick of cancer. So sick of staring in the mirror and seeing some stranger staring back at her. So sick of the mirror being a constant reminder of everything cancer had taken, was taking, from her. So sick of feeling weak.
She sighed heavily at her reflection. Her hair, if possible, looked even worse today. She was fairly confident, at this point, she looked like Gollum. She growled out loud, only barely resisting the urge to smash the mirror with her fist.
"Enough," Emma said to herself, loud enough that the word bounced around the small bathroom. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, the knots in her stomach twisted painfully, but she felt a little calmer.
She moved from the bathroom to the kitchen, tugging open a drawer and finding a pair of scissors before heading back to the bathroom. There was a moment of hesitation as she stared at the scraggly, ever-thinning, hair on her head, but it was with confidence that she lifted the scissors to her head and started chopping away, her remaining hair falling around her, covering her shoulders and the counter, and the floor.
When she was done, she stared at herself in the mirror, and her eyes widened, momentarily horrified, "Oh shit."
Crappy kitchen scissors had not been the correct tool for this job. Where before she might have looked like Gollum, now she sort of looked like someone had tried to take a lawn mower to her head. Scissors weren't like a razor or clippers and now she was left with strange tufts of hair sticking out every which way dispersed among the smooth bald spots. She considered whether she should try and fix it with her razor but that just seemed dangerous.
"Oh shit," she repeated, shaking her head at herself. She was such an idiot. And yet, staring at herself in the mirror, at how ridiculous she looked, she felt laughter bubbling up in her chest. The laughter bubbled out, the loud maniacal kind of laughter that reverberated her whole body, and brought tears to her eyes.
It was several minutes before she managed to stop laughing, wiping tears from her eyes, she actually smiled at herself in the mirror.
Sure she looked ridiculous. But she looked ridiculous of her own doing. Maybe it was silly but it sort of felt like, at least for a moment, she'd taken the power away from cancer. It was the strongest she'd felt since her first chemo treatment had left her curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor.
xxxxxx
She considered texting August, wondering if he'd have any tips for dealing with cancer related but self inflicted hair disasters. She even started typing a message. But then she deleted it, instead scrolling down further in her contacts list and selecting Regina's name and typing out a quick message.
I've made a big mistake
It was only a few minutes before her phone buzzed a response. What kind of mistake?
Emma, gnawed her lip, considering the best way to respond. After a moment of hesitation, she snapped a picture of herself and sent it to Regina.
The response came even quicker this time. I see.
Emma laughed at the obviously carefully chosen response. That's really all you're going to say?
Well, is it a mistake you want to fix?
Emma considered it a second and then typed out I'd sort of like to not look like someone took a lawn mower to my head
Okay. The one word reply came almost instantaneously, followed a moment later by another message. I think I can help. Can I pick you up after my volunteer shift?
"Huh," Emma said out loud to herself. That wasn't the response she'd been expecting at all. She'd mostly just texted Regina because she wanted someone to laugh about this with. Wanted to hang on a little longer to the momentary strength she'd felt as she descended into laughter in the bathroom. She was curious how exactly Regina was going to help her but all she texted back was Sure, sounds like a plan to me.
Great. I will be there near 4 o'clock. Regina replied.
xxxxxx
"So how exactly are we going to fix it?" Emma asked curiously as she climbed into Regina's car. She adjusted the knit hat on her head, which she'd debated whether or not she needed but had eventually decided to put it on. Maybe she'd consider abandoning it after the situation on top of her head was fixed - whatever that meant. Although it was still winter, so perhaps not.
Regina smirked at her, "Hello, nice to see you too."
Emma laughed, "Yes, sorry, hi. Did you have a good day?"
"I did," Regina nodded, turning her eyes to the road as she pulled away from the curb, "I would ask how your day was...but I have a feeling I already know the answer...eventful?"
"Yeah," Emma laughed again, looking out the window and trying to figure out where they were going. It was impossible to tell really. She didn't have to wonder long though because within minutes they were pulling up in front of a hair salon. It seemed like a pretty fancy place, like one of those places that doubled as a spa. She twisted her head back over to look over at Regina, "This is where we're going?
"Yes," Regina nodded, putting the car in park. She pursed her lips a moment, studying Emma, and suddenly looking surprisingly uncertain, "I made you an appointment...is that okay?"
Wanting nothing more than to wipe the uncertainty from Regina's face, Emma rushed to nod her head, "Yes, of course…" She smiled, slow and bright, her heart beating rapidly in her chest but not in the uncomfortable loud hammering way it so often did these days - this was something else entirely. No one had ever done anything like this for her. No one had ever listened to her problems and not only come up with a solution but actually gone out of their to help implement that solution. Regina could have easily just texted her and said she should see a hairdresser to fix the mess she'd made of her head but instead she'd called and made an appointment for Emma, and she'd picked Emma up and brought her here. Emma reminded herself that Regina was most likely just acting this way because she felt bad for her but, even with that assumption, it was baffling, still, how anyone could be so nice to her.
Watching Emma, Regina's lips tugged into a soft smile and for a moment they both just stared at each other until Regina cleared her throat, "We should...go inside."
Emma startled a bit and she bobbed her head up and down rapidly, "Yes, of course."
xxxxxx
Emma had been correct, this was definitely a fancy place. She knew so because there was a water fountain in the reception area. She also knew so because there was a receptionist.
Regina hesitated when the hairdresser - a woman with long blonde hair pulled back into an intricate braid who introduced herself as Elsa - started to lead Emma away from the reception area. Emma looked over her shoulder and motioned with a wave for her to follow. Regina nodded and hurried to catch up.
Emma settled into the salon chair while Elsa grabbed a spare chair for Regina. Emma stared at herself in the mirror in front of the salon chair, gnawing on her lip and catching Regina's eye through the reflective surface. She reached up and yanked the knit hat off of her head, dropping it into her lap. She rubbed the top of her head with one hand, sort of her nervously. Regina, of course, had already seen the mess but she bounced her knee and waited for Elsa's reaction.
Elsa didn't even blink though and it occurred to Emma that Regina had probably warned of the situation when she made the appointment. Elsa smiled confidently, "We'll get this taken care of in no time. We'll just use the clippers and your head will be nice and smooth, you'll see."
Emma nodded, relaxing, "It can't be worse than the current lawn mower accident vibe going on, right?" It was Regina, not Elsa, that she looked at as she said it.
"Right," Regina smiled reassuringly.
Elsa chuckled at the joke and then reached for the clippers, turning them on, loud buzzing sounding near Emma's right ear, where Elsa began shaving the remaining tufts of hair off of Emma's head.
xxxxxx
Regina watched Emma carefully while Elsa removed her remaining hair. She was looking for signs of distress but there didn't seem to be any. Emma seemed perfectly relaxed.
It wasn't long before the clippers were turned off and set aside and Elsa was holding up a hand held mirror so that Emma could see the back of her head.
Emma stared at her reflection for a long moment before she asked, "What do you think?"
"You have a really nice shaped head," Elsa offered enthusiastically in immediate response, "you look great."
Emma smiled briefly at the hairdresser's words but she wasn't looking at Elsa, she was looking at Regina, wide eyes watching and waiting for an answer.
"You look…" Regina swallowed, hesitating a second, as she tried to come up with a replacement for the first word that popped into her head. There wasn't any other word to use but that first one that had come to mind though, so she finished, "beautiful." It wasn't a lie, it wasn't even a half truth meant to be kind, it was the complete truth. Emma's colour was good today, pale but completely without the grey tinge it seemed to take on in the cancer centre and with enough flush in her cheeks that she didn't appear excessively unwell. Also helping was the fact that Emma still had eyelashes and eyebrows. Based on other patients Regina had seen at the cancer centre, she guessed that that might not remain the case forever but, for now, eyelashes and eyebrows kept Emma from seeming too much like a cancer patient. After all, with eyebrows and eyelashes, baldness could be a personal choice - not that anyone was likely to assume that but Regina still thought it made a difference. The lack of hair made Emma's eyes stand out even more than usual, the wide green orbs so bright and striking against pale skin that Regina was having a hard time looking away.
Emma blushed at the compliment, ducking her head in embarrassment. When she looked back up it was with an almost shy grin, "You think so?"
"I do," Regina nodded and then tilted her head, watching Emma carefully, "What do you think?"
Emma's head tilted too, before she turned it to look at herself in the mirror again, considering it a moment. "I feel…" she started, her gaze shifting from the mirror back to Regina, her eyes seeming to be shining even brighter now, as she finished, "...strong."
Strong was a curious word choice and yet it also wasn't. Emma looked strong, Regina thought.
Regina smiled at her and Emma beamed back.
xxxxxx
Emma didn't put her knit hat back on and, as they stepped outside, Regina had to resist the urge to chastise her for not covering her head in the cold. The only thing really stopping her was remembering the way Emma had beamed inside the salon, declaring that her newfound baldness made her feel strong.
They were almost at the car when Emma stopped, shuffling her feet, "Hey...umm…"
Regina stopped too, eyeing Emma carefully.
Emma ran a hand over her now completely bald head before she let her arm drop back to her side. She looked suddenly vulnerable and when she spoke it was clear she was struggling to find the words she wanted to say, "I just...I wanted you to know...this...it meant a lot to me." Emma swallowed, her eyes filled with an emotion that Regina couldn't quite name, longing or admiration or maybe neither of those. "So…" Emma started again, a hand reaching up to run over her bald head again, "just...thanks."
Regina's heart fluttered, fondness, and something more than fondness that she quickly tamped down, flooding through her. "It wasn't a big deal."
Emma stared a minute and then she shook her head, offering quietly, "Don't say that. It was...a big deal...to me."
Regina nodded her head slowly, brown eyes still fixed with green, "Okay." She had the sudden overwhelming urge to hug Emma. Instead, she reached forward, wrapping her fingers loosely around Emma's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, "You're welcome."
Emma glanced down at their joined a hands a moment before she looked back up at Regina, beaming at her, "That's a better response."
Regina smiled back, slow and soft, dropping Emma's hand and reaching for her keys.
xxxxxx