Handing the nurse my bank information, I paid for the next five treatments that Collins would be needing to fight this horrible disease.
And there, lying on the hospital bed, my daughter got her first round of chemotherapy with a smile on her face. A sad one, but a smile, nonetheless.
I never let go of her hand and I never stopped running my hand over her forehead. I was fucking proud of her.
Two weeks later and after her second round, I was watching the news when she came to me crying, holding a lock of her hair in her little fist. Smiling down at her, I brushed an errant lock of her black hair from her face, knowing that it was time or else every single strand she lost would break her little heart. “Think we should both go bald together?”
Her quivering bottom lip caused me to hit my knees, totally uncaring at the stabbing pain as she said, “I’m scared.”
Pulling her into my arms, I sat there and rocked her. “No need to be scared, sunshine. You’re going to be just fine.” Grabbing my cell from my back pocket, I called my hairdresser and my best friend, Shirleen.
The moment she answered, I said, “Hey girl, can you fit me and Collins in?”
She knew something was going on. We only saw Shirleen every three months for a light trim, and we had just seen her a month ago before Collins was diagnosed with leukemia, “Sure. Can you be here in thirty minutes?”
I smiled, not wanting to scare Collins in the least. I said, “You bet. Thanks, girl.”
After we got to the salon, I parked, helped Collins out of the car, and walked hand in hand into the salon.
Shirleen’s husband had bought this building on Main Street for their ten-year wedding anniversary. I had cried right along with her at her grand opening. Shirleen was a friend of my mother’s once upon a time before my mom decided to pretty much say fuck it with me and Hazel.
She had six salon chairs. All black stations with white shiplap on the walls and mint green accents everywhere else. The floor was that light-colored wood that tied everything in perfectly. At the back of the salon and to the right she had three washing stations, to the left, she had a waxing area that was closed off for the intimate bits.
The only things her salon didn’t offer were massages and nails and believe it or not, Shirleen’s sister Shirley (yes, their mother named them Shirleen and Shirley) ran the spa next door that offered all of that.
The sisters offered a one-stop-shop. And what I loved was that every single stylist knew how to perform for every head of hair. Yes, every head of hair. It didn’t matter the color of your skin or the texture of your hair, they catered to everyone.
The moment Shirleen saw Collins, I saw recognition on her face. She had lost her mother to breast cancer. So, she knew the signs of someone undergoing chemotherapy.
Over the past few weeks, it had taken a toll on my normally vibrant daughter. She had bags under her eyes, and she had lost seven pounds and I fucking hated it.
Leaving the client in her chair, she walked over to me, wrapped me in her arms, whispered softly so only I could hear asked, “Which one?”
“Leukemia.” I felt Shirleen’s body still, and she sniffled, trying to fight her tears back.
I wasn’t holding up much better.
She let me go then, knelt, and wrapped Collins up in her arms.
I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I saw Collins’s face brighten.
When Shirleen let her go, she walked over to another hairdresser and spoke to her, then when the other woman nodded, Shirleen walked back to the woman that was in her chair.
Wrapping my arm around Collins’s shoulders, I pulled her into my body.
The woman that had been in the process of having a perm solution put in her hair smiled and nodded, then moved over to another chair where the woman that Shirleen spoke to stood.
That was when Shirleen opened her goodie drawer and smiled at Collins, then nodded to it for Collins to choose whatever she wanted.
Once we walked over to her, Collins bent and picked out something that was her all-time favorite, and I just knew that Shirleen had bought that on purpose. A plush Charmander. Yes, my daughter lovesPokémonon top ofThe Little Mermaid.
“Are you ready, my beautiful girl?” Shirleen asked her.
Collins looked up at me with tears in her eyes. Grabbing her hand, I placed a kiss on her wrist and held strong for my little girl. “Yes.”
The room had gone quiet as Shirleen started the process of cutting all of Collins’s hair off.
I never took my eyes from hers in the mirror as we watched the process.