Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
SIX DAYS LATER
Janet
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
I opened my eyes. I had been awake for a few minutes, but enjoying the warmth of the bed, not to mention the rare peace and quiet for a few minutes more. Somehow, my husband always knew when I was awake.
I smelled the coffee, eggs, and toast a minute before I realized something. I didn’t feel like throwing up. That’s new… I thought gratefully. I was between rounds of chemo, apparently right in that sweet spot when I was finally feeling normal and had a few days before my next dose. A day or two before hand, I would start to get nervous and anxious, knowing how awful I would feel. But right now, I could just relax a little bit and enjoy the normalcy of not wanting to throw up everywhere or sleep the entire day away.
“Gorgeous?” I asked, cracking open an eye. “I am a mess.”
“You look beautiful.”
I gave him a weak smile. We hadn’t discussed the fact that my hair was starting to fall out. I knew I was lucky it had taken this long. It was such a little, superficial thing, but it hurt.
Soon, we were going to have to shave it all off.
Jack loved my hair. I felt like a special part of me was disappearing. Thankfully it was cold enough out that no one would notice that I had started wearing a hat most of the time.
“Happy Valentine’s day, Red,” he said, giving me a long, slow, deep kiss. I laughed. Jack had never minded my morning breath. “Sit up, Princess. Daddy has a surprise for you.”
I did as he asked and beamed as he set a tray across my legs. He had really outdone himself, making all my favorite foods. And somehow, he’d managed to shape the tomato and mushroom omelet into a heart shape. There was a single red rose in a small vase and a couple of prettily wrapped boxes with red ribbons.
“This is beautiful, Jack. You didn’t have to do this,” I said, wondering which of the girls had helped him get everything ready. My man was a miracle worker with bikes and carpentry, but delicate fingers or a flair for tying ribbons, he did not have.
Lord knows he tried his best to help our daughters fix their hair in the mornings. But he was terrible at it. Not one of them ever complained when daddy did their hair though.
They wore those haphazard braids and lopsided ponytails proudly, bless their little hearts.
“Wanted to. Always want to pamper you, woman. You know that.”
“I do,” I said primly, placing the napkin over my stomach and chest. I was starving, I realized. I even drank the coffee without feeling my hunger wane for the first time in months.
He saw with me while I ate, telling me funny stories about the kids and the club. Then he insisted I open my gifts. First was a collection of new charms for my bracelet. It had become a tradition, with him giving me a charm for every birth and special occasion. This time it was just simple x’s and o’s, to add a little sequence of hugs n’ kisses.
The next gift was a hot pink silk robe with matching pajamas. The good stuff, ‘fancy ass’, as Jack always called it when I got dolled up in something I would have worn in my old life as a rich girl who danced the prima ballerina role in front of huge crowds at a prestigious theater.
Now I was a mom, who taught ballet to toddlers. I spent half my time in sweatpants covered in graham cracker crumbs, or in a ratty soft old robe that had seen it’s share of breast milk and baby puke.
And I couldn’t be happier.
But it would be nice to have something pretty to put on now and then, as a treat.
A treat for both of us, I thought with a snicker. I had forgotten that I was sick. Just for a minute. But it was beautiful.
He had done that for me, I thought, my eyes starting to water. My man loved me that much.
The last gift did actually make me cry. I couldn’t help it. Jack had bought me hats. Silk lined and warm, but not too thick, in a variety of colors.
He had noticed my hair falling out. Of course, he had. My husband noticed everything about me. Even though I had been so careful to clean the drain after every shower. Even though I hid my hairbrush. Even though I had shoved all that red hair fall deep into the garbage. He had still noticed. And he hadn’t said a word.
But he wanted me to be happy, safe, and warm. So he’d gotten me hats.
“Oh, Jack.”
“We got this, babe. Aint no thing.”
My phone rang and I looked around, wondering where it had gone. He patted his pocket.