“My parents want to come out.” He looked at her one night, as they sat in bed. She was wearing a kerchief on her head to cover her baldness and she glanced at him with a sigh and a smile. “Do you feel up to it, sweetheart?” She didn't, but she wanted to see them, and she knew how much it would mean to Jane, and even though he wouldn't admit it, to Bernie. She thought of only a year before, when they had taken Jane to Disneyland and given them a chance to celebrate their anniversary. She had been pregnant then …and their whole life had been directed to living, not dying.

She said as much to him and he looked at her angrily. “It is now too.”

“Not exactly.”

“Bullshit!” All his impotent rage was suddenly directed at her and he couldn't stop it. “What do you think all this chemotherapy is about, or are you giving up now? Christ, I never thought you were a quitter.” His eyes filled with tears and he slammed the door as he walked into the bathroom. And he came out twenty minutes later, as she lay quietly in their bed, waiting for him. He looked sheepish as he came to sit next to her and took her hand in his. “I'm sorry I was an asshole.”

“You're not. And I love you. I know it's hard on you too.” She touched the kerchief on her head without thinking. She hated feeling so ugly, and her head was so round and bumpy. She felt like something in a science fiction movie. “This is awful for everyone. If I was going to die, I should have been hit by a truck, or drowned in the bath-tub.” She tried to smile, but neither of them thought it was funny, and then suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “I hate being bald.” But more than that, she hated knowing she was dying.

He reached for the kerchief and she ducked away from him. “I love you with or without hair.” There were tears in his eyes, and hers as well.

“Don't.”

“There is no part of you I don't love, or that's ugly.” He had discovered that when she gave birth to their son. His mother had been wrong. He hadn't been shocked or disgusted. He was touched, and he loved her more, as he did now. “It's no big deal. So you're bald. One day I will be too. I'm just making up for it now.” He stroked the beard and she smiled.

“I love you.”

“I love you too …and this is about living too.” They exchanged a smile. They both felt better again. It was an hourly battle to keep their heads above water. “What'll I tell my parents?”

“Tell them to come out. They can stay at the Huntington again.”

“My mother thought Jane might like to go away with them again. What do you think?”

“I don't think she'll want to. Tell them not to be hurt.” She was clinging to Liz for dear life, and sometimes cried when she left the room now.

“She'll understand.” His mother, who had been a tower of guilt all his life was suddenly wearing a halo. He talked to her several times a week and she had a depth of understanding he had never found in her before. Instead of torturing him, she was a source of comfort.

And she was once again when they arrived just before Christmas and brought mountains of toys for both the children, and his mother touched Liz to tears when she brought her the one thing she wanted. In fact, she brought half a dozen of them. She closed the door to their room, and advanced on her, carrying two huge hat boxes.

“What's that?” Liz had been resting, and as always, tears had slid from her eyes to her pillow, but she wiped them away quickly as she sat up and Ruth looked at her nervously, afraid that she might be offended.

“I brought you a present.”

“A hat?”

Ruth shook her head. “No. Something else. I hope you won't get angry.” She had tried to match the lovely golden hair she remembered but it hadn't been easy, and as she took the tops off the boxes, Liz suddenly saw a profusion of wigs, in different cuts and styles, and all in the same familiar color. She started to laugh and cry all at once, and Ruth looked at her cautiously. “You're not mad?”

“How could I be?” She stretched her arms out to her mother-in-law, and then pulled out the wigs. There was everything from a short boyish cut to a long page boy. They were beautifully made, and Liz was touched beyond words. “I've been wanting to buy one, but I was afraid to go into the store.”

“I thought you might be …and I thought this might be more fun.” Fun …what could be fun about losing your hair from chemo? …But Ruth had made it better.

Liz went to the mirror and slowly pulled off her kerchief as Ruth looked away. She was such a beautiful girl and so young. It wasn't fair. Nothing was anymore. But she looked up at Liz now, as she stared into the mirror in one of the blond wigs. She had tried the page boy on first and it suited her to perfection.

“It looks wonderful!” Ruth clapped her hands and laughed. “Do you like it?”

Liz nodded and her eyes danced as she looked in the mirror. She looked decent again …better than decent. Maybe even pretty. In fact, she felt gorgeous—female again. She suddenly laughed, feeling healthy and young, and Ruth handed her another. “You know, my grandmother was bald. All orthodox women are. They shaved their heads. This just makes you a good Jewish wife.” She gently touched Liz' arm then. “I want you to know …how much we love you. If love could have cured her, she would have had the remission they wanted so badly. Ruth had been shocked to see how much weight she'd lost, how thin her face was, how deeply sunk her eyes, and yet she said she was going back to teach after Christmas.

She tried on the rest of the wigs, and they decided on the page boy for her first entrance. She put it on, and changed her blouse. It required something more sophisticated than what she'd been wearing and she walked into the living room, trying to look casual, as Bernie did a double take and stared at her in amazement.

“Where did you get that?” He was smiling. He liked it.

“Grandma Ruth. What do you think?” She asked in an undertone.

“You look great.” And he meant it.

“Wait till you see the others.” It was a gift that had boosted her morale immeasurably and Bernie was grateful to his mother, even more so as Jane came bounding into the room and stopped dead.

“You got your hair back!” She clapped her hands with delight, and Liz smiled and looked at her mother-in-law.

“Not exactly, sweetheart. Grandma brought me some new hair from New York.” She laughed and suddenly Jane giggled.

“She did? Can I see?” Liz nodded and took her in to look in the boxes, and Jane tried on two or three of them herself. They looked funny on her and she and Liz laughed. Suddenly it felt like a party.

They all went out to dinner that night, and like a gift from God, Liz felt better over the holidays. They managed to go out two more times, she even went downtown to see the Christmas trees at Wolffs with Jane and Bernie, and Ruth pretended to disapprove, but Liz knew she really didn't. They had celebrated Chanukah, too, and on Friday they lit the candles before dinner. And her father-in-law's solemn voice as he intoned the prayers seemed right to all of them. Liz closed her eyes and prayed to their God and her own that something would save her.





Chapter 19

Their second anniversary was very different from the first. Tracy invited Jane and Alexander to spend the night with her, and Bernie's parents went to dinner on their own. Liz and Bernie were alone for once, and they spent a quiet evening. He had wanted to take her out, but in the end she had admitted she was too tired. He uncorked a bottle of champagne for her instead, and poured her a glass which she barely sipped as they sat by the fire and talked.

It was almost as if they had made a silent vow not to talk about her sickness. She didn't want to think about that tonight, or the chemotherapy she had to go back for in a week. It was hard enough doing it without talking about it all the time, and she longed to be like everyone else, complaining about her job, laughing over her kids, planning a dinner for friends, and worrying if the dry cleaner could fix her zipper. She longed for simple problems, and they held hands quietly as they stared into the fire, moving carefully through the obstacles of all the difficult subjects to avoid …it even hurt to talk about their honeymoon two years before, although once Bernie reminded her of how cute Jane had been on the beach. She was only five then. And now suddenly she was nearly eight. And Liz surprised him by mentioning Chandler Scott again.

“You won't forget your promise to me, will you?”

“What promise was that?” He was pouring more champagne, even though he knew she wouldn't drink it.

“I don't ever want that bastard to see Jane. You promise?”

“I promised you, didn't I?”

“I meant it.” She looked worried, and he kissed her cheek and smoothed away the frown on her brow with gentle fingers.

“So did I.” He had been thinking a lot recently about adopting Jane, but he was afraid that Liz wasn't well enough to go through all the legal hassle. He decided to put it off until she was in remission and feeling stronger.

They didn't make love that night, but she fell asleep in his arms by the fire and he carried her to bed ever so gently, and then lay looking down at her, feeling his heart break as he thought of the months to come. They were still praying for a remission.

On January fifth his parents went back to New York. His mother offered to stay, but Liz said she was going back to teaching anyway, and even if it was only for three mornings a week, it was going to keep her very busy. She had already had her chemotherapy right after the holidays and she had done well this time. It was a relief to all of them, and she could hardly wait to get back to teaching.