CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DEAN
NICHOLAS AND I SIT AT A window table with our chocolate ice-cream cones. He swings his legs back and forth, working industriously at the ice cream and looking outside at the frozen lake.
“So it’s just gone,” he says.
“For now.” I’m wearing a baseball cap, though of course Nicholas noticed that something was off about me as soon as he saw me waiting for him outside the school.
At Liv’s suggestion, I’d agreed to pick him up and tell him about both Liv’s and my hair before Bella gets home. Maybe if Nicholas deals with it well, she will too.
Nicholas glances at me. There’s a ring of chocolate around his mouth.
“You’re not sick too, are you?” he asks.
“No. I did it so your mother wouldn’t have to be the only one.”
“Will hers grow back too?”
“One day, yes. But it might take a while.”
“What about yours?”
“Mine will grow back faster, but I’m going to keep it shaved off until your mother is better again.”
“So she won’t be the only one?”
“Yeah.”
Nicholas processes this as he licks a ring around his cone. “Does she look funny?”
“She looks like Mom. Just without hair. It’ll take us all a little time to get used to it, but it doesn’t change anything about her. She’s exactly the same.”
He shrugs. “Okay. Can I see your head?”
“Sure.” I lean forward so he can take off my baseball cap.
He does, then studies my head for a minute. “You look weird.”
“I know. But do I still look like your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s all the matters, then.”
He seems to accept that. We finish our cones in silence and toss the napkins into a nearby trash can. I put the cap back on.
“I’m counting on you to help Bella be okay with this,” I tell Nicholas as we walk back out to the car. “She doesn’t really understand about Mom being sick, so it could upset her to see both Mom and me without any hair.”
“Is Mom wearing a hat?”
“She’ll wear a scarf most of the time, I think, but not always.”
“What about you? Will you always wear the hat?”
“No. I just wore it so I could tell you first. It’s a little easier for men not to have hair because a lot of men lose their hair as they get older. But it’s harder for women.”
“Is Mom crying?”
My chest constricts. I have to think about the best way to respond.
“She did cry when we first cut it off,” I finally admit. “But she’s not anymore.”
Nicholas nods. I get him buckled into his seat and we return home. Liv is waiting for us in the kitchen. She’s dressed in a polka-dot blue skirt and a white blouse, with a pale blue scarf tied around her head. She’s wearing makeup, little silver earrings, and her Fortune Favors the Brave necklace. Though Liv always looks good, I can tell she’s taken extra care with her appearance.
“Hi, Nick-Nack.” Liv holds out her arms. “How was school?”
“Good.” Nicholas approaches her somewhat cautiously, but as soon as her arms close around him, he hugs her with his usual after-school enthusiasm. “We had rehearsal for the music concert, and Dad took me out for ice cream.”
“So I see.” Liv indicates the ice-cream ring around Nicholas’s mouth.
He studies her for a second, and I wonder if he’s going to ask her if he can take off her scarf. Instead he says, “You look like a pirate.”
“Really?” Liv smiles, as if he couldn’t have given her a better compliment. “Thanks. We both know how cool pirates are. Now come sit down and show me your schoolwork.”
She takes Nicholas’s backpack, and they sit down at the kitchen table so he can show her the worksheets and drawings he did that day. Within seconds, he seems to have forgotten about her hair, though I know it’ll be tough for him to see her without the scarf.
As they talk, I start getting dinner organized. Half an hour later, the front door opens. Liv and I exchange glances. I grab my baseball cap and put it on, hurrying to get to the foyer before Bella and Claire come into the kitchen. Claire is helping Bella off with her coat.
“Hi, Daddy,” Bella says.
I crouch and hold out my arms, letting my daughter dash into them. After a hug, I ease back to look at her.
“Do you remember when we told you Mommy would lose her hair?” I ask. “Because of the medicine?”
Bella nods, her gaze going to my baseball cap and the obvious lack of hair beneath. A worried look crosses her face.
“Well, Mommy did lose her hair,” I explain. “And I cut mine off so she wouldn’t be the only one without any hair.”
Bella frowns. She grabs the brim of my cap and pulls it off. She stares at my head, then gives a little whine and pulls away from me to run back to Claire.
“It’s okay, Bella.” Claire takes Bella’s hand. “Let’s go see your mom.”
She marches past me into the kitchen, leading a reluctant Bella. Alarm flickers through me. I follow, trying to get in front of my daughter as if I can protect her from the shock.
Nicholas and Liv are still sitting at the table. Liv rises from her chair with a smile.
“Hi, sweetie.” She approaches Bella and holds her arms out, but Bella doesn’t move, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at the scarf on Liv’s head.
“So let’s see it,” Claire says brightly, giving Bella a nudge forward. “We know Dean still looks great without any hair, but what about you, Liv?”
“Hey, we’ll take it from here.” I step forward to stop Claire from interfering further.
“Bella, Mom just shaved her head,” Nicholas says. “It’ll grow back, like Dad’s.”
“I don’t like it,” Bella whines.
“At least losing your hair is better than losing your boobs, right?” Claire says with a laugh.
What the actual fuck?
Liv looks stricken, two spots of color appearing on her cheeks. Claire opens and closes her mouth, faint horror appearing in her eyes.
“I’m s-sorry,” she stammers. “Liv, I didn’t mean—”
“Enough.” I grab her arm. For the benefit of the kids, I keep my voice calm as I say, “Kids, say goodbye to Claire. She has to go now.”
“Bye, Claire,” Nicholas calls.
Bella looks like she’s about to cry. I guide Claire gently but firmly to the door.
“That was completely unacceptable,” I say, low and angry.
“Oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry.” Claire groans and presses her hands to her cheeks. “I totally did not know what to say or do. I meant to research how to talk to kids about chemo and hair loss, but I forgot and the whole thing caught me off guard. I didn’t realize Liv would lose her hair so soon. I’m so sorry. Please don’t fire me.”
“I’m not going to fire you.” I sigh, suddenly tired. “But we’ll handle how we talk to the kids about Liv.”
She still looks upset as she pulls on her coat. There’s a knock on the door, and I answer it to find Archer standing on the porch.
“Hey.” He holds up a kit of power tools. “Just returning this. I was going to leave it in the garage, but the door is locked.”
“Thanks.” I take the kit and set it on the floor, then hold the door open for Claire.
She mumbles another apology, tells me she’ll call Liv later, and hurries back out to her car. I close the door behind her, aware of Archer looking at me.
“Liv lost her hair,” I explain, gesturing to the cap. “So I shaved mine off too. Bella’s not taking it very well. Nicholas is okay with it so far.”
He follows me into the kitchen, where Liv is standing a distance away from Bella, trying to coax her closer. Bella is staring at her mutinously, her arms crossed and her expression set.
“Hey, everyone,” Archer says loudly, pushing past me to grab Bella and swing her in a circle. She giggles, her expression clearing.
“Hi, Uncle Archer,” Nicholas calls, scrambling off his seat to come over.
“How’s it going, dude?” Still holding Bella in one arm, Archer high-fives Nicholas.
“Mom lost her hair and Dad shaved his head,” Nicholas says matter-of-factly.
“I don’t like it,” Bella cries.
“No?” Archer looks puzzled as he sets Bella down and approaches me, reaching out to take the cap off my head. He laughs. “Hey, man, the Mr. Clean look suits you.” He grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me into a hug and slapping my back. “You need to paint your head black like an eight ball or rent it out for advertising space.”
He chuckles again, all jovial cheer and humor, reaching up to rub my head. “Hey, Bella, come here.”
He turns to Bella, who is watching him warily. Archer grabs my neck and pushes my head down.
“It’s like a drum,” he tells Bella, rubbing my head again.
“He looks scary,” she says.
“It’ll grow back,” Archer assures her. “It’s not like when Nicholas cut off Miss Lulu’s hair and it didn’t grow back.”
Bella still doesn’t look convinced, but she tentatively reaches out to pat the top of my head. She looks at Archer again. He tousles her hair and moves to whisper something in Nicholas’s ear. Nicholas chortles with delight and races off to open the low kitchen cupboard where we keep the art supplies.
Archer says something to Liv, who nods and smiles. Next thing I know, Nicholas and Archer are organizing a set of finger-paints on the kitchen table.
“Up you go, Bella Umbrella.” Archer lifts Bella into her seat at the table and shoots me a glance. “Sit down, man.”
I know where this is going. I sit down and lower my head as Nicholas and Bella get their hands sticky with paint and begin to slather it on my scalp. Bella laughs, slapping her wet hands against my head, happily indulging in her love of messes. Nicholas is more precise, painting swirls and designs that he wipes away with a paper towel before starting again. Their laughter is music.
Though paint drips down my face and into my eyes, and my neck gets a kink from being bent, I could sit there for hours letting our children paint my bald head.
Only when Nicholas complains that he’s getting hungry do they show any signs of stopping. Liv hands me a few towels to wipe my head. She’s smiling her usual Liv smile, the one that hits me in the middle of the chest every time.
“Awesome work, kids,” Archer remarks.
He grabs the pink paint and squeezes some onto his fingers, then paints something on the top of my head. Nicholas laughs.
“I don’t want to know,” I say.
“Thirty years, and I finally have revenge,” Archer remarks.
I go to the mirror in the foyer to find that my brother has drawn a pink bow on the top of my head. He follows me to the door, grinning.
“You’re an ass,” I tell him. “And a genius. Thank you.”
“No problem.” He glances down at my hand. “By the way, nice bracelet.”
“It’s a wristband.” I extend my wrist, which is still wrapped with the looped string holding Liv’s wedding ring against my pulse.
“Whatever you say, man.” Archer pulls open the front door. “Okay, I gotta get out of your hair.”
I shake my head in amusement as Archer grins again and goes to his truck. Thirty years ago, I’d never have imagined how grateful I’d be to have him as a brother. But today I know I’m grateful beyond words.