Chapter 172 just hair
Chapter 172 just hair
He deleted his BC account, deactivated his email and his number is still unreachable. I don’t know if to laugh at myself or curl into a ball and cry. I don’t know how to feel. I tug the cover over my head, curling into a foetal position. Everything seems to be in shambles. Amelia doesn’t pick my calls. Ashley doesn’t want me at their house. I’m still pitifully clueless.
Jason.
Jason might know. I yank the cover off me and dial his number. I haven’t seen him since that night. I didn’t get to see him perform. Mace sneezes. I push a hand into his crib and he accepts it. He has no idea what I’ve done. That I saw his father.
Will he forgive me? If we are to apportion blame, Dad will take the highest share, then me. Pushing myself closer to the edge of the bed, I peer into my son’s crib.
“Uncle Jason isn’t picking,” I tell Mace. He pushes himself to his knees, and his hand locks around the railings of his crib. “What do you think, Macey? Do you want to visit New York? You might get to see your dada.”
His mouth opens. He mumbles something inaudible. I wipe the drool at the corners of his lips. Maybe I should add New York to the list. I’ve always wanted to visit there.
I dial Jason’s number a third time. No reply. He might be at work. He must know what’s going on with Amelia. After a fourth try, I give up. Mace bounces on the bed. He has become more active since learning how to crawl. I dial Amelia’s number as a last resort, and on the second ring, she picks.
Amelia’s breathing rings heavily in my ear. I bite my lips, my other hand drumming on my knee. Mace groans. I place a finger over my lips, and he throws one of his toys at me.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Amelia Greene.”
“Cathy,” she finally replies.
Back against the headboard, I hoist Mace to the bed and drop a pillow on my leg. He crawls over it, his hands flattening on my chest. My heart must have stopped beating. All my senses attune to the tired breaths coming from my phone. I think I’m scared.
“What’s going on, Amelia?”
“Leukaemia,” she murmurs. My breath halts in my throat. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know the extent. Maybe it’s not that bad. “I have it. We thought it was gone but I guess not. It’s back and it’s not looking so good.”
“I don’t understand.”
I try to retract my hand from the pillow but Mace drops his over mine. When he touches my cheeks and frowns, I realise I’m crying.
Amelia sighs. “I think you do.”
My head shakes vigorously. “I do not.”
“Then I’ll spell it out.”
I pull the phone away from my ear. If I don’t hear it, it can’t be real. The numbers on my screen roll on as the call progresses. I don’t care about the cost of the call. She is about to lie to me. I can’t let her do that.
“Catherine?” I hear from the other end of the call. Mace hands over the phone to me. My teeth sink into my lower lip to keep the cry in. I put the call on speaker because my limbs quiver. My chest rises and falls, and I hug my knees. Amelia exhales. “I’m dying.”
She’s lying.
“You’re not dying, Amelia Greene,” I tell her with more fierceness and conviction than I knew I possessed. Mace wipes my cheeks and I pinch his. He gets it. There’s no point crying. She won’t die. “Listen to me. You’re a good person. Good people don’t die.”
Even as I say this, I’m reminded of my mum. She was also a good person and she died.
Oh, God.
It hurts.
It hurts everywhere.
My chest closes in on me. I feel soft arms around me but I can’t process anything. I’m spiralling out of control. My best friend is dying. She is going to leave me.
Why does everyone always leave me? Am I the problem?
“It’s okay, Catherine. Do you hear me?” Amelia whispers. “Breathe. Breathe for me.”
Her voice cuts off the forces trying to drown me. I snap out of my trance and squeeze a confused Mace in a tight hug. Why didn’t she tell me to my face? She’s not going anywhere.
“You won’t die,” I say to my phone. I don’t care that she can’t see me. “You’ll stay here, okay?”
I’ll pray. I’ll go to mass. I’ll talk to God. She is not dying. She will stay here and we will raise Mace together. I’ll even contact Calum again. I’ll do everything. She must not die.
Moments later and Amelia hasn’t spoken. When I think the call has disconnected, she says, “This is not about you, Cathy. Okay? It’s not something any of us can control.”
I try to speak but Amelia cuts me off. She needs to have faith. I won’t let her give up. I’ll be strong for us. I switch to video call, she accepts it but I’m met with a black screen.
“I want to see your face,” I say.
“No.”
“Amelia.”
“Cathy, stop it. Stop it, okay?”
Her voice cracks. She chokes on a sob and a wave of helplessness wraps me in a bone crunching hug. Hot, stinging tears blind my vision. I stroke Mace’s back, rocking both of us. Why? Amelia is only twenty. It’s not fair.
“You remember when we were in school and I would miss classes?” Her voice flows into the air. I wish she was here. I need to be there for and with her. “I was sick then, Catherine. But the doctors were hopeful.”
Well, they need to increase their hope.
Amelia laughs. I glare at my phone. It’s not funny. We shouldn’t be laughing. We should behave like the children of Israel, wear sack clothes, paint our faces with ashes so God can perform a miracle in her life. He’s the creator of everyone, right? That’s what Mum used to say all the time.
And she died.
“You said that out loud,” Amelia says. Her explanation doesn’t make it any more of a reason to laugh. “Anyway, yeah. That’s what it is. Ashley is here. She’s being hopeful, but I know it’s a big waste of time. It’s useless.”
“Don’t say that, Amelia.” Mace slips out of my embrace. He has no idea what’s going on but he sticks to my side. I ruffle his hair, pulling his back flush against my chest. My tears drop to his hair, but he doesn’t flinch.
“I want to see you,” I mutter a minute later.
“No, Cathy.”
“Please.”
“I don’t want you to see me like this!”
The block in my heart takes over my entire chest. I tighten my arms around Mace because I have no idea what to do with them.
“I don’t care, Amelia Greene,” I manage to say to the phone. I should be there with my best friend. “I love every version of you.”
“My hairs are falling out, Cathy.”
“It’s okay. It’s just hair. It will grow back.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What if I come over tonight?”
“No.”
“Okay. Tomorrow?”
“No,” she replies. She’s so stubborn.
“Please.”
“Why don’t you just understand?” she yells but it ends in a coughing bout. I let go of Mace when he cries. I was holding him too tight. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
“But I’m not just anyone, Amelia. I’m your sister too. We are more than best friends.”
Amelia sniffs. “I look like a ghost.”
“It’s okay. I also look like a ghost.”
“You never listen,” she mutters but there’s enough resignation in her voice for me to know I won her over. “Fine. Next Saturday?”
That’s ten days away. I open and close my mouth. This is not about me. This is about her.
“Okay,” I reply. “Next Saturday it is.”
“Thank you,” she answers.
“It’s an honour, Amelia Greene.”
We stay connected through the call, none of us speaking, just breathing and processing things in the ways we know. My tears cover the screen of my phone. Mace finds fun in dipping his fingers into the teardrops and smearing it all over his face.
I wish I was a child again. I wish I didn’t have to grow up. I wish I didn’t even exist.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“For what?”
“That this has to happen to you,” I add. That she has to be sick. “You don’t deserve it.”
“I don’t,” she says. Her voice sounds like the Amelia I’ve known all my life. “I deserve to be happy. I deserve to grow old with my man, have babies and grandbabies. To have my own Mace so you can be his godmother. I deserve everything good under the sun.”
“You do,” I concur. “You do, Amelia Greene.”
“But life never gives us what we deserve,” she reminds me. “And it’s not your fault or mine, or anyone else. It’s just what it is.”
Life is a bitch. A real bitch. I hate life.
The silence rolls on. Minutes later, Amelia drifts to sleep and her snores reverberate through my phone. I should end the call, but if she’s right, I’ll no longer be able to hear this sound anymore. Sliding down to the bed, I pull Mace close. He stares up at me with tears in his blues. He’s so unlucky. He will never get to meet Amelia as an adult. He will never fully experience the true awesomeness called Amelia Greene.
I don’t know who ends the call from Amelia’s end. But Mace is also asleep by the time I notice. After multiple kisses to his face, I leave him in the comfort of my bed to ransack the cabinet in the bathroom. When I find what I’m looking for, I head towards the mirror and let my hair flow down to my waist. It’s just hair. It will grow back.