What's Left of Me

The day I learned I had cancer was the day my life changed. Not in the sense of facing death and learning about all that I would have to go through with the cancer. I’m talking about when my parents no longer looked at me like they had the morning before we left the house to go to the doctor. Or the way my sister would compliment me for no reason. Or how my friends wouldn’t give me shit over something stupid I did. I became known as the girl who has cancer.

Leaving that doctor’s office not only changed me, but it changed the lives of those around me. My parents still look at me like I’m their little girl—their little miracle—but now they look at me as if I’m going to disappear right before their eyes. My sister’s compliments have turned into trying to make me feel better when I’m in a rut or when I’m feeling insecure over the way I look. With the exception of Jean, my friends no longer joke or pick on me, afraid they’ll say something that offends me.

I know things will never go back to how they were, but it would be nice to wake up one morning and feel as if my life hasn’t changed. That having cancer doesn’t affect how people look at me or treat me. It’d just be nice to go back to how things were pre-Hodgkin’s. Even for just a day.

I make my way out of the dining room and out the front door. I walk over to Jason’s black Altima and lean against the passenger door, waiting for him to join me.

After a long, uncomfortably quiet drive, Jason and I are the first to arrive. I make my way to the back where the overnight animals are and feed them. There is an entire wall covered in metal cages filled with cats, kittens, and small dogs. Off this room is a smaller room with only six kennels to hold large dogs. Only one is occupied, by a large dog and her puppies. Seeing that, I make a mental note to call my parents later. It’s been a few days since I’ve talked with them. I try to call every day, but I missed the last couple nights.

As I make my way into the break room to wash my hands, I spot Shannon talking with another girl I’ve never met before.

“Hi, Aundrea! This is Bryn.”

I take Bryn’s hand and shake it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She’s tall. Maybe my height. Beautiful thick brown hair with caramel highlights curls to frame her face. Her green eyes give me a once-over. It’s not a nice look, either. It’s a full, head to toe let-me-check-out-the-new-girl look.

“You too.” I’m sure it is. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

My eyes shift from Bryn’s to Shannon’s. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” I make my words come out as a joke, but stern enough to get the point across. I’m not sure what she’s been told, but the last thing I need is for her to know about my health.

It’s not a secret, but having Hodgkin’s isn’t something I proudly state every time I meet someone, or something I want others to share about me. I’d rather things like my poor athletic ability, interest in constellations, or personality be the topic at hand if someone wishes to share anything about me. And, yes, my poor athletic ability is a topic in and of itself. I can’t shoot a basketball for the life of me. Truth be told, that’s why I was a cheerleader. Those who can’t play, cheer.

“Good morning, ladies.”

We all turn to watch Parker make his way over to the counter where the coffee is brewing.

“Good morning,” both Shannon and Bryn say cheerfully.

I don’t say anything. I just watch him stroll through the break room, unaffected by all of us drooling over him.

“Morning, Aundrea. You look like you slept well.” There’s amusement in his voice that makes me think about how he ended our conversation last night.

Instead of responding, I glare at him before turning my attention back to Shannon. He chuckles softly, which causes Shannon to furrow her eyebrows in a silent question. I just roll my eyes and shrug, but not before I take one last, hopefully stealthy, glance in his direction.

He has on black dress pants, a long-sleeved gray button-down, and a black tie. The suit showcases every curve of his muscles as he moves to grab a coffee mug. His hair is lightly gelled, and the smell of aftershave fills the room. He looks edible.

I don’t realize I’m staring at him until an elbow jabs me in the side.

Shannon is shaking her head and giving me an annoying smirk. I raise my eyebrows, silently asking what the jab was for.

“Ah, you like him,” she whispers, motioning toward Parker as she nudges her shoulder into mine. She moves past me, toward the lobby desk.

“Parker, what are you doing Saturday?” Bryn asks, looking up at him. “I’m having a get-together at my place. Nothing big; just a small group of friends for drinks and a bonfire. You’re more than welcome to come if you’d like. You too, Aundrea.” Geez, thanks!

She gives me the briefest of glances when she invites me, then quickly turns her attention back to Parker. If Shannon thought I had it bad, this woman has it crazy bad. She’s not even trying to hide her interest.

“Thanks for the invite, but Aundrea and I actually already have plans.”

“You do?” she asks in surprise, looking at me.

“We do?” I ask in the same tone as Bryn.

Parker fills his coffee mug, then grabs mine out of my hands to fill it for me. “Yes, we do.” I add my own cream and sugar.

“Well, if you both want to come, you’re more than welcome to,” she says, then leaves in the same direction Shannon did, leaving the two of us alone.

“If you didn’t want to go to her party, you didn’t need to use me as your excuse.”

“I don’t want to go, and I didn’t use you. We have plans Saturday night.”

“What if I already had plans Saturday?” Sitting at home on the couch with re-runs of Dexter counts as plans, right?

“Cancel them.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Because I got two scrimmage tickets for the Wild on Saturday.”

The scrimmage games are free and open to the public, but I don’t burst his bubble by letting him know I’m aware of that fact.

“The scrimmage is at three; that doesn’t count as plans for Saturday night. Besides, isn’t it against some work policy to go out with the employees?”

“Are you saying you count this as a date?”

“No! Definitely not a date.”

“It could be.”

“No. Not a date.”

“Okay, then, no. It is not against any policy to go out with your co-workers as friends. Also, while we’re on this subject of friends: friends need to eat, so, yes, to answer your question; our plans would also entail Saturday night. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure you ate dinner?”

While I stand there and ponder what he said, he starts to back away toward the door. “I’ll pick you up around eleven on Saturday. It’s almost a two hour drive to the stadium.” He gives me one of his famous winks before turning and leaving me by myself, staring blankly at the doorway.

“Cocky much?” I call after him, but all I get in a response is another chuckle.

The week continues in this fashion. I ride in with Jason, and Parker gives me his charming smiles and winks. We don’t talk much aside from him continually reminding me about Saturday. I finally tell him to stop reminding me or I won’t go. That shuts him up real fast.

I spend Friday night doing some homework and talking with Jean on the phone. She’s been so busy with school and her new job that the only contact we’ve had are brief texts. I didn’t want to tell her about Parker until I got her on the phone.

“Let me get this straight. The guy from the bar is Jason’s intern?”

“Was his intern. He’s the new veterinarian, and partner in the clinic.”

There is a loud banging that causes me to flinch and move the phone away from my ear.

“Sorry! I dropped the phone!” she yells as I bring the phone back to my ear.

“It’s okay.”

“This is good, Aundrea! Real good.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you said the sex was amazing. Your night together was spontaneous. And by the sounds of it, he’s trying to get back in your panties, and who knows … I think it’s about time you let loose a little. Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yeah, that for once you should enjoy what life throws your way.”

Deep down, I know I’m the girl who wants the fairy tale relationship. The type of relationship that is crazy and spontaneous. The one that gives you butterflies at the mention of his name. I want what Genna and Jason have.

What my parents have.

But, in reality—my reality—it’s just that: a fairy tale.

Chapter Eight

Saturday morning, I wash my wig, dry it, and three barrel curl it. A plus to having a wig is that I can style my hair while it’s on a stand, making sure I get every piece without having to reach behind my head. Normally, I like to change up my hairstyle and color, but since coming here and helping at the clinic, I can’t change it without someone asking questions. I’m not used to coming to a new place where not everyone knows my past, and I like it.

My insurance only allowed partial coverage for one wig, but my mom found a non-profit agency that helps. I have eight total, and six are of high quality, made with human hair that looks realistic. Eight may seem a little obsessive, but they were the only way I could express myself after I lost my hair.

After I finish curling my hair, I apply some makeup: blush, shimmering brown and nude eye shadow, mascara, and a little eyeliner.

I put on a cute, washed-out pair of jeans, a white tank top, and teal denim jacket. I add some small gold hoop earrings and slip on a pair of white ballet flats. Flats are my favorite to wear for two reasons: they are the most comfortable, and I don’t feel like even more of a giant than I already am when standing next to people.

Making my way outside, I watch as Jason and Genna rake the orange and red leaves that have fallen from the huge maple tree that sits in front of their three bedroom, two-story home.

“Hey, you. Where are you off to this morning?” Genna asks as she stops raking.

“I’m going to Saint Paul for the day to the hockey scrimmage.”

“With who?”

“Parker,” Jason answers.

“Parker?” Genna questions. She is trying hard not to smile.

I didn’t tell her of my plans for precisely this reason. She’s been bugging me to date more, and I didn’t want her to read too much into this day.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I didn’t say I thought anything.”

“We’re going as friends. He knows I’m a Wild fan. Besides, the scrimmage is free, so it’s not like he spent anything on the tickets.”

“Again, I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“I’m just explaining it to you.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“Then get that look off of your face!”

She laughs. “What look?”

“The you’re-so-full-of-shit-you-totally-like-him look,” I say.