Everything We Always Were

Two: The Other End

I remember seeing her a few times in class before actually meeting her, brown frizzy hair, and chocolate eyes. We were children, but she drew me in like it was something she knew how to do. She didn't, of course.

I hadn't gotten an opportunity to talk to her yet, and I didn't think following the rest of the elementary kids in bullying their crushes would be the right move.

Before the sandwich even hit the ground, I was on my feet and walking across the playground, lunchbox in hand. "Here," Her soft wails made me frown as I held out half of my own peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I remember her eyes, wide and shimmering, looking up at me and then she smiled. Ear to ear, and snatched the bread out of my hands.

Leaving the playground that day, arm in arm, I had hoped that it would last forever because I already knew that she was going to be a huge part of my life.

I have spent most of my high school days without her by my side, respecting the space that she had asked of me. But, when Cole and I walk into our third hour and I see her, I know this is an opportunity.

Sitting down, I turn to her, putting a toothy grin on my face, to maybe get a smile out of her as well. "Hey, Delia."

Before I have a chance to analyze her face, the bell rings and our teacher stands, clearing their throat, forcing me to turn back around.

I don't get another chance to talk to her for a few days, and then I get the news.

Cancer.

Of course, cancer. Why not?

The first thing my mother says to me when I get home is, "How long has your hair been that light? Did you bleach it?" She looks weak already. Although, she never really got better after the last time.

"No, Mom," I say, settling lighting into the bed next to her. "Do you not like it?"

Her face sours, and I know the answer. Her frail body is suddenly hit with a wave of coughs, and I rush to get her a glass of water.

"I'll fix it for you," I say softly, and she hums in acknowledgment, pushing the half-empty glass back into my hands and closing her eyes. I stand, pulling the door closed behind me and I leave the room.

I'm grateful to find out that at least one of our town's convenience stores sells hair dye, so I don't have to drive out of town and back to get it. They didn't have any light browns in stock, so I just grabbed the black, figuring that it would fade with time.

I've never dyed my own hair before, and as I stand here looking at myself in the mirror, I realize that my hair is too long. I certainly don't have any experience or knowledge of cutting hair so I sigh, shuffling out into the kitchen.

Somewhere in one of these cabinets, my mom has an address book, and if I remember correctly, the woman who cuts my hair is one of her high school friends. Eventually, I find the book and flip through until I find the name that I recognize.

Under the name and address, are three phone numbers labeled home, cell, and work. I dial the work phone number into my phone, taking note of the time.

6 pm. I'm sure salons are still open, right? There are only a few in town.

A woman picks up on the other end. "Is Kendall there?" I ask.

"Sure, are you calling to make an appointment?"

"Kind of, can I just speak with her please?"

The woman on the other end doesn't respond and light violin music begins to play through the phone. I sigh and pull it away from my ear until I hear a click.