Annie meets new friends and hustles a bike race. Sarah begins a tougher period in her recovery.

Chapter 4
Saturday June 28 and Sunday June 29

Saturday morning found Sarah sleeping late, recuperating from the stresses of her vigorous rehab session and her sixth round of chemo. So I dressed in green cut offs, a tee from a Lilith's Fair concert, and my favorite sandals. Sometimes I think the sandals would be the hardest thing to give up when I go back to being Mark. Maybe I'll buy a guy's pair.

Roberta, a tiny seven year old with a serious heart problem, and I played on the floor of the East Lounge, where most of the younger kids hang out, doing dolls and pretend games. She was giggling over all the funny voices I made for the dolls and stuffed beanbag animals spread on the carpet in front of us.

Roberta looked up at me with her big brown eyes. "Your nails are so pretty, Annie. Can I have big nails when I grow up?"

"When you grow up, I imagine you can do lots of things, Roberta." I sincerely hoped that I wasn't lying, that she would grow up.

"Would you paint my fingernails, Annie?"

"Well, I would love to, but I would have to know it's okay with your mommy." Roberta was so tiny that her fingernails were almost microscopic. "Isn't she coming this afternoon?" Her mother worked as a waitress at the pancake house. Roberta nodded. "I will probably be out this afternoon, but if she can leave me a note that it's okay, I can do it right after supper or else tomorrow afternoon. Toenails, too!" Roberta beamed at me and nodded.

I heard the front door open, and then a voice boom out behind me, "That's what I like to see, my oldest daughter acting her age!" It was Mr. Holding. Mrs. H shushed him. I turned and hugged them, and pecked them on their cheeks, greeting them as mom and dad. Then I introduced them to Roberta.

Mrs. H bent down and chatted with the tiny girl, then we excused ourselves and went upstairs. Sarah was awake, but was still in her nightgown. She was delighted to see her parents after two weeks apart that the stood up, and hopped over to them to hug them. "Mom! Dad! I walked yesterday! I had to hold onto the rails and I rolled back and forth like a drunken sailor, but I walked!"

Mrs. Holding helped Sarah to the bathroom so she could clean up and get dressed. Mr. H told me how things were going on the home front, and how they had missed us both so much they had gotten up at six to come see us. "We've already swung by Westlands College," he said.

I touched my finger to my mouth. "Shhh." I whispered. "Somebody figured out this week that I wasn't Julie. We can trust her, and she's left for home anyway, but we do have to be careful. Where is Julie, the real one, I mean?"

"We were able to check in early at the motel and left her there. Didn't want too many Julies wandering around here. As soon as those two get together, we'll go pick her up and have lunch together. Since Sarah seems tired, we thought we'd spend the afternoon in the motel room, just visiting. You're welcome to come with us, or you can have some time off."

"A little time off sounds nice, thanks. I haven't had time to do any serious bicycling since we've been here, and I could meet you back here for supper afterward."

That was a plan. After Sarah came out of the bathroom, I slipped in and changed into the red silk blouse with black trim and the black skirt that had surprised me so when I unpacked it–they had decided on a Vietnamese restaurant.

The real Julie laughed out loud when she saw me at the motel, hugged me, and said, "I knew something that sexy would bring out the girl in you!" She whipped out her camera and took a picture. "Don't worry, No one will know that it's you in the picture, and not me." It was a long, slow lunch, and we enjoyed talking, but I was also glad to get back to Hope Haven and change. I was wearing low heels, but I was glad to kick them off.

I went from silk to Spandex by changing into my Ocelots uniform. I started toward the door, then went back and clipped in the red and blue streamer ribbons. They looked silly, but it was kind of fun having them tug at my hair in the wind, and the kids at Hope House insisted that I should wear them as part of my bicycling uniform. I dragged the bike outdoors and walked it to the beginning of a long bike trail that followed the river, then crossed it and headed up into the foothills. It was a little warm, so I made sure my water bottle stayed full.

A little later, another rider in racing uniform passed me going the other direction. I sensed him turning around and looking back at me. The uniform was that of Blazing Saddles, a racing team here in the city. Soon, I heard the engaging of bicycle gears behind me and saw him approaching. I waved and smiled. I think I remembered seeing him at a race last Fall. He was bulky for a racer, perhaps the kind of guy who biked to lose weight. A beginner or a category 4, as I recalled. Easy target.

"Name's Eric," he asked '"Wanta race?"

"Name's Annie. How far?"

"There's a burger joint about three miles up into the hills from here, where the path crosses McGifford Drive. We'll stop there and you can buy me a Coke when I win."

"What if I win?"

"Unlikely," he grinned.

"If I win, you can wear these ribbons on the ride back."

His face clouded, then he smiled. "It'll never happen. Someone as pretty as you can't race that fast–and I have a better bike. Okay, it's a deal."

In my best Picard voice, I said, "Warp 7. On my mark. Engage!"

We were off. I was right. He wasn't very fast. He made chauvinist assumptions, too. Julie could have taken him, and perhaps Sarah, too, before this all started. I stayed a couple of yards behind him, listening to him breathe hard. I could hear my ribbons flapping in the breeze, too, along with the clicking of very fast wheels. I paced him as we crossed the bridge and began the slow rise into the hills. I lost a lot of yards on the bridge, because after he exited a family of walkers started on in my direction. I slowed down seriously to get past them safely, then began pumping. Still, I wasn't concerned. I could see him slowing. We were about two miles along the course, when I began an uphill sprint. "Over," I yelled, so he'd know I was passing. As I sailed past, I looked backward, grinned, reached behind my helmet and flapped my ribbons at him. Even then I wasn't going as fast as I could, yet I continued to increase the difference.

I pulled over into the restaurant parking lot and waited. Neither of us smelled too good at that point, but I felt great and he was gasping. "Come on in, You can buy me a coke now. Too pretty, huh?" I asked as I slipped off my helmet. We walked in, keeping the bikes next to a window where we could watch them. The air conditioning felt good.

We ordered soda and fries and I let him catch his breath. "Wow, you're good. Are you a pro?"

"Nah, not nearly. Maybe someday, though. For now, I just hustle sodas and fries from unsuspecting victims" I smiled. He continued with small talk about where he was from and what he was taking at the university. Since I'm inexperienced about such things, I suddenly realized he was hitting on me. He invited me to a supper and a movie.

"Sorry, Kevin. You're sweet, but I'm taken. I enjoyed the race, though." I had almost decided not to make him go through with wearing the ribbons. He asked me where I was staying. I told him that I was staying with someone at Hope Haven.

"Hope Haven! Isn't that full of cripples and sickies? Yuck! How can you stand it?" I just smiled at him, shook my head, reached back, and unclipped the ribbons.

"Please remember that you and I are only one skid on gravel next to a moving car away from being residents there ourselves. Sorry. I was going to let you off the hook with wearing the ribbons back, but that stupid remark made me change my mind, cutie."

It was fun to follow him back, watching Julie's team ribbons fluttering in the wind. I was lucky that his hair was long enough that I could pin them down securely. He kept his head very low, hoping nobody would see him. Of course, I'd encourage him, calling out "Looking good, dollface."

When we got back to the river path, we stopped. He let me unhook the ribbons, and apologized. He asked if we could meet again. "Sorry," I said. "I really am taken. And she's a real fox, too."

The next morning I went to church and Sunday dinner with the Holdings, wearing the great khaki dress that Julie would own next fall. When I told her the story about our encounter with Carrie, Julie said, "No wonder when I was home last weekend Carrie scowled and turned the other way when she saw me. Hey, Annie, you can represent me in cat fights anytime." I also offered to fix her up with Eric the beribboned bike racer, but she declined.

Sarah napped after lunch, and her folks left. I walked downstairs and went to see what little kids might be around. As I went around the corner, the door opened. It was 4 girls from Fort Russell! They had come to see Sarah. At least one of them knew that Julie was at basketball camp. So should I greet them and act like I was Julie, just here for the weekend? No, I don’t think so. They knew the real Julie well enough they would know the difference. I waited around the corner as they stopped to ask somebody where to find Sara. When they went up the stairs, I slipped out the front door. I spotted their car, so I would be able to tell when they left. I took out walking. Every now and then, I’d go back near Hope Haven, and see that their car was still there. I stopped at a woman’s clothing and accessories shop and browsed. Hmm. That hair band would match my maroon skirt. And there was a little chain with a maroon stone. Nice. I was lucky to have my purse with me, and so I brought them. By the time I got back, the car was gone. Sarah said it was an awkward visit, with all the girls trying not to look at her missing leg. But she enjoyed them being there anyway. She just wished that the girl who had been her best friend would have come, but she still couldn’t deal with Sarah’s situation.

That evening, Sarah and I had an appointment to play beauty parlor with a lovely young lady. She had her note from mommy. When I showed her my blue polish and Sara's red, I asked which she wanted. "Both," she grinned. "I want them to look like your bike ribbons." So red-blue-red-blue they were. Roberta also loved it that Sarah and I were wearing identical new earrings that we had purchased when we were out with her folks and Julie during the afternoon. Each one had a crossbar from which hung six or eight rows of inch-long strings of miniature beads in bright colors, so they rattled nicely when anyone touched them. And Roberta loved touching them, asking me to pick her up so she could make them rattle. Roberta didn’t have pierced ears, and we were sorry that those didn’t come in clip-ons, she loved them so.

Monday, June 30

Sarah spent a little more time walking today, but it makes her really tired. She’s also spending more PT time in the pool, because it builds up strength by offering resistance to her movement, and is low-impact on her remaining knee. I can’t go in the water with her, because I can’t figure out how to wear a bathing suit that wouldn’t give away secrets. Sarah had mentioned that to Mrs. Holding yesterday.

We sat down in the chemo waiting room, and found it nearly full. I was back in my bibs again, this time with a Hundred and One Dalmatians shirt underneath. I don’t know if they were short-staffed in that area, but things were moving slowly. A tall, striking young African-American woman, totally bald and not wearing a head covering, came in, looked around for an empty chair, and sat in the one next to us. We had noticed her a few times before, but had never made contact. As I was trying to read a Star Trek novel, I noticed that she kept glancing over at me.

"Pardon me," she finally asked in a mellow voice, "You look so familiar to me, and I can’t place you." She told us that she Amanda Perkins, and lived in the city there, so was here on an outpatient basis. We introduced ourselves and said we were from Fort Russell.

"Fort Russell? That’s it. Don’t you play on their women’s basketball team?"

It was time to fit into my Julie role. "Yes, that’s right. I just graduated. Didn’t we play against each other? What school did you play for?"

"University High, for three years, but only the first few games this season," she responded. "Then I got hit with a truck called Hodgkin’s Disease. I had the usual round of treatments through the winter, and I was getting better, but not quite better enough, so here I am again. But I remember you from last year. You beat us on your court, and we barely squeaked by on ours. You play guard with real attitude–I was impressed!" I wasn’t sure how much farther I could go with faking it, so I nodded lamely.

Sarah Beth chimed in. "Oh, yes! The University High game. You’d better remember that one, Julie. Central was still ahead with three minutes to go, you fouled out, and they lost in overtime. You were in such a foul mood that I just wanted to lock you in your room for a week."

"Oh, yeah," I grinned ruefully. "I was trying to repress that one. No matter how much they told me it wasn’t my fault, that I didn’t blow the game by fouling out, I wouldn’t believe them. So–it’s nice to meet you off the court, Amanda." We talked. She worked at a craft store part time. Her hopes for a basketball scholarship had been put on hold, at least temporarily. I told her of my plans to go to Westland, and that when she got the Hodgkin’s licked, I’d love to play with her rather than against her.

"I think it was your hair that made me remember you, in addition to your in-your-face playing," she told me. With all those tight curls, it looked like a blond afro. Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind a bald chick commenting on your hair, but is it naturally that curly?"

"No, it’s about as wavy as Sarah Beth’s," I said. "I’ve permed it for years, mostly because it’s easy to take care of for sports."

"I like it," she said. And Sarah Beth, your hair is gorgeous, too. I love it."

"To tell you the truth, Amanda," I said, "You look pretty great without yours. I admire you being brave enough to go wigless or scarfless. I don’t want to embarrass you, but do you always go like that?" Sarah Beth was looking on with intense interest.

"Not always. I wear a wig to work, and to church on Sundays. My dad’s a preacher here. But in between time, it’s mostly like this. My boy friend loves it, by the way, and says that I should keep it that way after the chemo stops. I tell him he’s crazy."

Sarah Beth cut in. "I’m glad to hear you talk about it. The doctors mention it, but they don’t really know about it from our end. I’m really afraid of losing my hair, and I’m glad to see someone else handling it so well. There aren’t any other teen girls at Hope Haven who have lost their hair, so it’s nice to have someone to talk to about it–besides Julie, I mean, and I haven’t talked much with her about it. It’s just not something I’m comfortable with, yet"

We had a really open, helpful talk about Amanda’s experiences. Amanda asked Sarah Beth how she thought her boyfriend might handle it. "Mark and I are really close," Sarah said, glancing at me, "and he isn’t going to get all bent out of shape about it. But he does really love my hair, and I think it will be tough on him, too." I tried not to look smug.

Amanda looked at me. "I think your sister will do just fine," she said. "It’s evident that she has a good support system, and that means a lot. And she’d look good with or without hair. Now I imagine that if it were you who were losing your hair, you’d probably be just like me–wouldn’t look back, and just go for it."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"Your basketball attitude shows through. You are your own person, and don’t care that much what other people say about how you look–not that you don’t look nice, I don’t mean that. But you are comfortable with yourself, and look the way you want. You like to look good, but you’re no fashion slave. You don’t mind making statements, those great nails and funky earrings show that-- and bald is a statement. Am I right?"

I smiled and had to admit she was. Funny, I remember Julie telling me that I could carry this whole thing off because I was comfortable with myself. I guess that I am. Speaking of the earrings, I told her about little Roberta and her fascination with them, and that we wished we could get some little-girl clip-ons that she might enjoy.

"Maybe I can help you with that. We have some jewelry kits at our craft store. Will you be here Wednesday afternoon?" We nodded. With that, Sara’s name was called and we waved goodbye. I had to remember to tell Julie about this conversation, just in case the two ever crossed paths.

Tuesday, July 1

A tough day. Sarah Beth had been working so hard in PT, that her stump was getting sore. They told her to not use the leg at all for a couple of days. A step backward (figuratively speaking). Yesterday’s chemo affected her more, and the nausea led to vomiting. This was the first time, and probably not the last. I helped clean the gross stuff up and took her clothes and bedding down to the laundry while the aides bathed her. She slept it off the rest of the afternoon, and all night. I could have left for awhile, but she was so miserable and uncomfortable, even in her sleep, that I didn’t have the heart to. About eight PM, she woke up crying, saying that her leg was hurting. She didn’t mean the stump, but her whole right leg. She had very little trouble with phantom pain since shortly after her surgery, but perhaps it had come back since the rest of her was miserable, too, and she didn’t have much resistance. "It’s unfair," she muttered. "How could something that isn’t there hurt so much?" I laid down next to her and cuddled, and we softly cried together. Strange, how for us the "in sickness and in health" is a reality years before we get married.

Wednesday, July 2

Sarah is still exhausted, but not quite as rotten feeling. Still no work with her prosthesis, but she had some time in the pool. We did not look forward to chemo today. I had found some plain mint green walking shorts, and a top that looked like rainbow sherbet. Sarah was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, because she was chilling.

Amanda came in. "Hi, kids, Aunt Amanda the craft lady is doing her thing. Here’s a box of all sorts of goodies, so that you can set up a cottage earring making industry." And there was–a boxful of jewelry pieces, earring backs, tools, wire, and beads. There were even pads to cushion Roberta’s ears from the pressure of the clips. "You can be as creative as all get out," Amanda explained. "The costume jewelry pieces are free, and you can give me back to tools when you’re done. I hope you two are crafty!"

I hadn’t done any jewelry making in my previous life, but it did give us something to do that evening. When I needed tweezers, my acrylic fingernails proved useful. Other times they got in the way, but I managed. The two pairs we created wouldn’t win any prizes at the craft fair, but with bright dangling little plastic bows, hoops, and beads, Roberta could rattle her head around to her heart’s content.

Sarah was still weak enough that the aides had to help her bathe. After she dressed for bed, she sighed and showed me her hairbrush. Quite a bit of ginger-colored hair was caught in its teeth. It was starting.