“What does that mean?” Hailey asked softly, not knowing if she could stand to hear the answer.
“Lack or loss of hair, a common side effect of cancer treatment,” Grant told her so matter-of-factly that she wanted to shake him. He spoke like some sort of medical dictionary lately, offering up words and inevitably sharing the definition. Hailey rested her head against Grant’s shoulder as she closed her eyes and silently wished he would stop reading so much about cancer. Leukemia had been a scary enough word for her to comprehend, but Grant seemed to make it his daily mission now to discover an equally frightening word related to the disease.
“Those words are all scary to me,” Hailey admitted.
Grant nodded, adding cynically, “Leukemia might kill me but at least it’s expanding my vocabulary first, right? Ironic, isn’t it, that dying could be such an educational experience?”
“You’re not dying,” Hailey said curtly. She sat up and crossed her arms. “Besides, it’s probably better if you stop reading so much about what’s happening to your body,” she suggested.
“Why?” Grant asked without a hint of anything but sincerity.
Hailey shrugged. “You don’t need to know every detail. It’s scary. You should just trust that your doctors know what they’re doing.”
“I can’t help it,” Grant replied. “I have to know the reality of what I’m facing. I do trust my doctors. It’s just that if I know what I’m up against, I feel like I have a better chance of beating it.” He pulled Hailey close to him. “Look at it like this,” he explained with tender empathy. “When you scout another team before a big game, do you trust Jack to watch the game film for you?”
“No,” Hailey gulped, realizing that, in a way, he had a point.
“No,” Grant agreed. “You know that he’s the coach, and you trust the game plan that he comes up with, but you know that if you are going to be the one out on the court defending the point guard that wants to invade your court, you have to watch the game film yourself. You have to know the moves he’s gonna make before he makes them. You have to know how he likes to attack the basket and decide for yourself what your best chance for successfully defending him is.”
When Grant finished, Hailey eyes were full of tears.
Grant smiled. “Leukemia is an opponent I have to face…it’s just basketball on a life and death scale. That’s all it is, Hails.”
“Well, in that case,” Hailey said, gritting her teeth in an attempt to keep from crying, “I like your odds!”
Grant wrinkled his nose, and he lifted one finger, pointing it toward his hair. “This in-between stage is really messing with my image and my ego. I think it’s about time we do something about it. What do you say?”
Hailey and Grant stood in the bathroom, staring into the mirror as Grant held an electric razor in one hand. Hailey watched him sit the razor on the counter and pick up a pair of scissors. Then, hesitantly, he sat those down too. “I can’t do it,” he finally scoffed.
“What do you mean?” Hailey gulped.
“I think I mean that your boyfriend is vainer than either of us thought,” Grant sighed. He turned from side to side, unsuccessfully trying to work strands of his remaining hair over the noticeable gaps that ran rampant around them. For his efforts, he ended up with a handful of hair that made him snarl into the mirror.
Hailey rubbed his back. “It’s okay,” she said sympathetically.
Grant’s eyes shifted to her. “Will you do it?” he gulped.
Hailey motioned for Grant to sit down on the toilet. She placed a towel around his shoulders and began to work with extreme focus.
“You’re doing great,” Grant kept reassuring her.
“I’m nervous,” Hailey exhaled. Cutting the hair didn’t bother her; the thought of cutting him terrified her. Not even brushing your teeth could be normal for people with Leukemia; there were extreme risks involved in the simplest activities. If she was to cut him, the resulting complications could be tragic. “Maybe we should go to a professional?” Hailey sighed.
“Amateurs built the ark; professionals built the Titanic,” Grant scoffed. Then he smiled. “Hailey, I trust you,” he sighed. “You’re doing fine.”
“Okay,” Hailey swallowed as she tapped Grant’s shoulders. “Be still. Please.”
When Hailey was done, Grant took one glance at the little pile of blond hair on the bathroom floor and then stared at himself in the mirror. A smile broke out on his face as he raised his hands to his head. “Gotta tell you, the general is gonna love this look.”
“You look ready for basic training,” Hailey agreed with a smile.
“You did a good job,” Grant said, putting his arm around Hailey.
Hailey twisted a curl of her own hair around her finger as she stared thoughtfully into the mirror.
“Hails?” Grant said as he reached for her hand.
“What?” Hailey shrugged. “I was just thinking that I could shave mine off, and we can be skinheads together.”
“No,” Grant shook his head vehemently.
“I’ve heard of people doing it,” Hailey shrugged. “I think it’s a sweet gesture. I’m willing…”
“Hailey, look at me,” Grant said, turning her chin to face him. “Promise me that you won’t do anything foolish out of some misguided sense of solidarity.”
Hailey laughed. “Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “We don’t have to shave mine!”
“Good,” Grant smiled, “because that could actually kill me.”
“Hey!” Hailey exclaimed. “What if I was the one who was sick, and all my hair fell out? Would you love me any less?”
“No,” Grant said, his tone serious. “But,” he smiled, “you’re not sick. You get to keep your hair…because somebody has to be the looker in this relationship, and since it can no longer be me…”
“I don’t know,” Hailey grinned. “You’re still lookin’ pretty cute if you ask me.”
Grant motioned toward the floor. “Look at that! Look at that, Hailey! That’s good hair!”
