So, it's Tuesday, and Joan is back at fencing. I'm picking her up tonight, and I think I see a vaguely familiar face in the crowd as I get out of the car to help her load her gear in. I do a double-take when she beckons me closer.

"Miss Bergman?" It's definitely Bex. And she's shooing Joan away. What's going on here?

"Bex, right?" I give her a smile. "Or would you prefer something else?"

"Bex is fine." The way she's eyeing me up. Joan did say something about me intimidated her. I still don't get it. I gesture for her to continue. "Oh, right. So, I kinda wanted to ask what Joan normally does for her birthday?"

"She's been embellishing stories?"

"I don't think so," Bex frowns, once again gesturing for Joan—sneaking around behind us—to move away. "But I want to do something nice, and it's obvious she's not exactly like me or Tina, so…"

"So you're not sure what to do, right?"

"Right," she nods. "I was thinking activities and stuff, or sporty things, and then here, tonight, I can see she's really good at sword stuff, but… there's not lots of that, and we could get in trouble doing it in public."

"I'm with you so far," I shrug slightly, then pull my jacket a little tighter—it's cold outside the car. "And you know her birthday isn't until May, right?"

"I know stuff's expensive, or tickets to places and like that, so if I plan it out now, I should have enough money by then for all of us."

"That makes sense—and it's better planning than Joan usually has." It takes my mind a moment to process the last part of what she said. "Wait, 'all' of us?"

"Oh, Tina if she wants to come along, of course, and some girls from the soccer team, and a few guys from gym class that seem okay. And I guess we're probably supposed to have an adult for supervision or something."

"You know, if you want to do a fencing thing—like tonight—I'd suggest talking to Phil about how to organise these things. He helped organise the grand melee last year."

"Thanks miss Bergman. I hadn't even thought of that." She smiles, then waves at Joan before hurrying to a small van. "Bye!"

In the car, with Joan in the passenger seat, I know I have to ask some things.

"She was asking you about birthday stuff, right?" And it's Joan opening the conversation instead.

I nod.

"Bex was saying she wanted to do something nice, and different, so I suggested she talk with you."

"Really?"

"Well, talk with you first." Joan laughs softly. "You'd probably have the best ideas about what to do. After all, you've known me the longest."

"Fair." I'm keeping my eyes on the road as we pull out of the drive the fencing hall is on. "It sounds like you three are getting closer."

"Me and Bex—I was already close with Tink." A little laugh follows. "She's my—our—girlfriend. Still getting used to saying it like that. And yeah, I know Bex wants to do something, she can't keep that a secret, but she can keep what it is a secret." Another laugh. "Well, she can try."

I let her have the moment. It's not a long drive home, and I have to concentrate because we got a bit of snow earlier. Just a little slower, a little more cautious on the corners. I also notice that Joan is quiet, contemplating things. Or maybe deciding if she'll tell me more about them, or just tonight.

As we pull into the driveway, I stop briefly so Joan can scramble out, grabbing all her gear before heading for the door. Then I put the car away. I don't know why all this mundane stuff seems to be sticking with me tonight. I'm trying to think if it's a special date—and my phone says no. No, I think it's about the story. I remember the next part, and it was tough. It was sad too, but not like the end. A different kind of loss—and I think my mind has been trying to protect me from reliving it too intensely.

Unfortunately, I think telling it is going to make it hit hard enough anyway.

Not too much later I'm upstairs in Joan's room, resting against the foot of the bed. She's lying half-off the bed, her head next to mine, hair trailing everywhere. She asked if I would brush it for her—which is strange, but it's what I'm doing right now. She's also telling me, at least a little, about how things are and how they've been between her, Tina, and Bex. I am absolutely not pressing for anything more. I know it might be kind of delicate, expressing this kind of vulnerability, especially in front of me—and that's why I'm also not teasing or anything either. That might happen later, or it might not.

Then I hear something maybe she wasn't intending to share. "Sometimes when I'm worn out I still really like being touched."

I can hear the silence. I feel her freeze. I just keep brushing her hair, trying to keep a little smile off my face.

"Mom?"

I sigh. "You didn't mean to say that."

"No." I can nearly feel the heat of her blush.

"So, do they play with your hair?" I try to keep it light. "Like this, I mean. Or practising braids?"

"Sometimes," I feel it as she relaxes. "I kinda like it."

"There's nothing wrong with liking the other thing too," I try to keep my voice neutral. "Do they talk about aftercare in health class these days?"

She freezes again.

"This isn't some kind of interrogation or judgement thing," I sigh again. "I'm not trying to pry—I just want to give you some information, and some context, in case you haven't already got it."

"Okay…" It's drawn out, and she shifts around, sitting up now, facing me. "It still feels awkward."

"And that's okay too." I gesture idly with the hairbrush. "So, aftercare is about addressing your body's needs—and your emotional needs too—after any kind of intense activity. Or any kind of intense emotional event. Usually when there's a chance for bad stuff to have happened, but sometimes it's just about getting centered again. It was intense, and you need to come down slowly, instead of crashing."

"That sounds pretty normal." I can see the slight flush in her cheeks.

"It should be," I give her a shrug. "If you three are already practising that—maybe without knowing what it's called—so much the better. And if not, maybe think about it; discuss it amongst yourselves."

She gives me a look.

I spread my hands in a placating gesture. "Not prying. No judgement. Just offering a suggestion."

Joan just shakes her head, then clambers off the bed and sits in front of me. "I still like it when you brush my hair too. It's different, but still good."

"There are times I wish I did this more with Elsa…"

"She lost her hair—and it wasn't the same with a wig, right?"

"She did, and it wasn't—it feels different for both people."

–∞–

I was a mess. Not from sadness or depression or trauma.

Not this time.

No, this time was entirely my own fault.

Because a wedding is something that needs to be planned. And as is well known, I was not a good planner at the best of times. I balked at the cost of the local wedding planner—I was surprised that there was only one in the whole city. Very exclusive, and from the rates they charged I knew why. So, panic mode.

Despite the wedding not being until June. Or maybe July.

But I had to find a venue. The right venue for us. I didn't realise the number of places that would turn down a wedding with two brides. It made me angry. And upset—because why should it be different from any other wedding? I took a few calming breaths. Trying to arrange things through several weeknight evenings had not helped. Not when I couldn't get any actual things to arrange properly. At least Elsa got a good laugh out of me screaming into a pillow again. And again. And again.

The frustration was becoming too much, and I know she saw it.

"It is stressful, I am understanding, Anniken, but you must be breaking for time. Wait… you need time break?" She shook her head. "Break taking?"

"Close enough." I shook my head and sat heavily on the couch. "Four months—is that really long enough to plan everything?"

"I am not expecting some giant ceremony," Elsa laughed softly and pulled me into a hug. "A nice venue, a celebrant to make it legal, some friends and family, and probably too much wine at the reception, yes?"

"I am not getting my wife drunk at our wedding." I gave her a scathing look. Maybe more than I should have.

"Sorry Anna. It was meant to be joking."

I sighed, then reached up to kiss her cheek. "I'm too highly strung. I swear this is some kind of nightmare, trying to organise things."

"I know it is not your strength, but I am very grateful you are trying despite that."

"It's that, or a small fortune on a professional planner."

"Removing these headaches might be worth that small fortune." She was actually serious.

"I—I should think about it." Between the two of us it would still be quite a lot—but we could only have the one wedding, after all. "I don't know…"

"Perhaps I will help take your mind off it," I heard the smile in her voice. "We are nearly at the finale, and it's very good."

I looked at the pile of DVD cases with some skepticism. "But there's so many discs left."

"Oh, I mean the finale for the first season." She was already putting the disc in the player.

"Bold."

She paused the show at the start of the episode. "Shouldn't we have snacks?"

"Yes, yes we should." And by the time I was halfway through saying that I was already in the kitchen, finding us some unhealthy snacks. Chips, cookies, soda; small and crunchy things we really shouldn't have been having. And definitely too much of it too.

She was right about two things. First, it took my mind off the chaos of wedding planning. Second, that the finale was good. Very good. Because that scene of them taking out a ship, then slowly panning over to reveal a fleet… chills. And the final fight, the hero combining with a fish-spirit-thing. But actually it was the music. The music and the sound effects for that fight. And the way they did most of it in black and white because of the moon thing. I was learning how to appreciate the show for what it was. I was also seeing why Elsa liked it so much.

I will also admit, every now and then, that I like to rewatch the whole thing.

Afterwards, Elsa had another surprise for me. This wasn't to do with wedding planning, however. She'd planned this one for a while, but the weather had made it impossible.

So, after watching said finale, we were both up in the attic. Elsa stood next to the window, and carefully aligned her telescope using the dials all around the mount. She wanted me to see something. She also put something over the lens of the telescope.

"It's a filter, you can see some things better with this." She peered down the telescope, then beckoned me over. "Come, look."

It looked like a tiny patch of fuzzy… something.

I felt her hands on mine, directing me. "Twist this one for focus. You can adjust zoom a little with this one. You will know when it is right."

And I did. It didn't just jump into sharp focus or anything, but I knew when it went past it. Fine adjustments. Her hands gently on my arms. It was a nebula. I looked at a nebula with my own eyes—eye, whatever. The shape was well defined. A ring. I turned to her.

"It is maybe a small joke." I saw the mischief sparkle behind her eyes.

I gestured for her to explain. "It is called the ring nebula."

I tackled her softly into some pillows we'd brought up earlier. "I love you."

There was kissing. "I love you too." Silence, for a moment. "Soon enough, we will be wives."

I shrugged, and kissed her again. "That just makes things official."

I heard a quiet sigh of content. "I would give the sky to you, for how much you love me. The sky, the stars, everything."


The next morning I woke up early. The attic window didn't have curtains. We were both restless through the night too. I could remember hugging Elsa close, and occassionally massaging cramped muscles—side effects of her new treatments. I was, in fact, awake before Elsa.

So that was why I saw it first. Just lying innocently on the pillow between us. More than just a few stray hairs. I hugged Elsa tight. Apparently, in my fright, it was tight enough to wake her. She sat up slowly and scratched her head. She blinked when she saw me.

"Anniken?" I knew I must have looked extra pale. She paled when she saw the clump of hair in her hand. The hand she'd scratched her head with.

I carefully picked up the hair from the pillow and handed it to her. I didn't know what to say.

I heard her sigh, and saw the tears she was holding back gathering at the corners of her eyes. I pulled her into a tight hug, resting my chin on her shoulder so I could whisper into her ear.

"You don't have to say it." I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat. "I'll just hold you."

"But I do," she leaned back to kiss me. I could taste her tears. "It's… how would you say? First signpost?"

"A marker?" I offered absently.

"Marker is working." Her voice shook slightly. "It is a thing I cannot be going backwards past. Losing hair. Sickness from drugs. Weakness. Then—"

I hugged her tight so I didn't have to hear her say it. I knew what she was talking about. Stages. The progression of her cancer. The timing was uncertain, we both knew. Just like we both knew the ultimate outcome was inevitable. There was nothing we could do to stop it. Only slow it down. Even then, it might not be by very much. I hugged her tighter, until a small voice squeaked at me.

"Anniken, you are crushing me." I loosened my grip, and she took a few exaggerated breaths. "Better."

"I'm scared of losing you." I looked down at my suddenly blurry hands. "I know, and it doesn't make sense, but maybe it does because I knew but didn't like… know, know. Or maybe in mind, but my emotions said…"

I heard an odd half-laugh from Elsa.

"What?"

"I am thinking I have two upsides."

I just stared at her blankly. What is she getting at?

"Firstly, you cannot be blaming me for shower drain anymore." I gave her a look. "Second, I am saving a fortune on waxes and things."

It took me more than a moment to process. "…you did not."

"Humour is being your defence."

I hugged her again, gently this time. Then sniffled. "But I need to experience the other emotions too. Then try and let them pass."

"The therapy is helping you." I heard the smile in her voice. "I was not so sure when you were not calling. Maybe covering for something."

"I couldn't do that," I just had to make the dig. Like an idiot. "Not for as long as you did."

"That is being very low, Anna."

I buried my head in my hands. I hadn't meant it like that, but I had said it. I took several calming breaths. I had to apologise. Properly. I looked straight into her eyes. "It was wrong of me to say that, no matter how I meant it. I'm sorry."

Then she caught me completely off guard. "If I forgive you, could I…brush your hair?"

I blinked a couple of times, making sure of what I'd heard. I leaned forward to kiss her. "You don't have to forgive me for that. Or anything. Just ask."

"I think… I think if I brush your hair, then you brush mine, and…" She took a surprisingly deep breath. "And I think it will be less scary to lose my hair."

I yawned widely. "I think breakfast first."

Mornings were never good for me. But with walls down, it helped us talk about things.


So that was what we did over breakfast, and that's how I wound up sitting at the foot of Elsa's bed, with her behind me, running her favourite brush through my hair. She took her time, but this was Sunday morning. We had nothing to do. Slow and gentle. Tender—that's a better word. The way she brushed and smoothed my hair was so tender. I knew it was more than simply playing with my hair. More than just about our love. The slight hesitation sometimes. The quiet sniffle now and then. I closed my eyes and let her have as long as she needed.

"I can… I can brush yours, if you want?" I kept my voice low.

There was a quiet admission behind me. "Yes, but I am scared of how much…"

"I have beanies you could wear. Or a pirate bandanna. And an eyepatch." Then I got serious. "The wig from 'punzie should arrive this week. Something to look forward to?"

"It is a nice thought."

I could feel her braiding my hair, then letting it fall loose. "You want to keep playing with mine?"

"I said I am scared, Anniken."

"Oh. Ohhh." I turned around to take her hands in mine. "I'm here. I'll brush your hair for you."

We swapped places, and I took the brush from her. I tried to be as gentle as possible, but there were still knots and tangles. Except instead of them being worked out, they just pulled out whole strands of hair. I looked at the brush, disheartened. I blinked back tears. For Elsa, I told myself. It was strange how different it felt. Knowing that even the slightest force would pull out some hair. Knowing that this was supposedly normal. I saw the patchy mess that was my future wife's hairline.

Nothing could hold those tears back. I wept in silence, carefully picking hair from the brush every now and then. The cluster of platinum strands on the blanket was becoming a tangled mess. I thought I knew what I was in for, falling in love with a dying woman. There were so many things I hadn't even thought of. The big one—the one that would divide my life into before and after—was easy. But so many smaller things.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, perhaps a little too loudly. My hands kept moving, brushing and smoothing her hair—what was left of it. My body on autopilot.

"Anna?" Her voice seemed so small.

I looked down at the pile of hair beside me. "Don't…" I swallowed hard. "Please don't turn around."

"All I need is one mirror to know."

"Do you want to?"

"I cannot hide from it." She shuffled back, pulling my arms around her. "I am so grateful you would try to protect me."

"Try?" I hiccoughed through the tears.

"You cannot hide it from me forever. I will need the wig. I know this." Her voice turned melancholy. "I know that for some time I will be looking like ugly duckling. No one will—"

"You're still beautiful to me." I was defiant.

"No one will have to see me, I was going to say." She turned to kiss me. Whatever else she had planned to say died in her throat. I had nothing else to say. There was nothing I could say. I handed her the hairbrush and sat silently in front of her. She could play with my hair as much she wanted.

–∞–

Joan sniffles slightly. "It's… it's hard to imagine. Just losing hair like that."

"It's harder to go through." I shake my head. "Worse, when you realise it doesn't all fall out at once. No, it has to fall out in patches, and you get stubborn clumps. It looks… it looked horrible, for a few days. It hurt to see it, and it hurt Elsa to see my reaction to it. But she wasn't going to shave it all off. She was stubborn."

"Almost too stubborn to die." I can hear the sadness in her voice.

"Almost," I agree. "But by the end—I could see how much she was hurting, and how much she honestly couldn't hide anymore. She held on as long as she could. For me."

I hear Joan sniffle.

"But that part of the story isn't for a long time yet," I reassure her. "I'll give you plenty of warning. And dad can take care of us if we need it. Blankets, hot chocolate, hugs, everything."

"Thanks mom."

"And now it's past your bedtime." She just gives me a dirty look. "School tomorrow; don't stay up too much later."

"Fine." Ah, the very best level of teenage exasperation. She'll be okay.