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I woke up at 6 a.m. the following morning. It was time for work.
I undressed and stepped into the shower, letting the cold water hit my skin.
Cold water wasn’t my thing. In fact, I hated it, but it seemed a prerequisite for the possible scrutiny I’d face at work. A way to thicken my skin.
A fearful chill ran down my spine.
I didn’t know whether it was from the water or the anticipation of what was to come.
After a couple more minutes, I finished in the bathroom.
With my towel wrapped around myself, I moved to the mirror.
My reflection stared back at me— my hair was wet and messy. Face paler than usual.
Grabbing the small face towel from a side of the vanity, I wrapped it around my hair, a memory following the action.
It was a memory of me and mom. How she’d always wrap my hair for me after showering and we’d do some karaoke.
Mom liked singing. It was her second favorite thing to do for me after baking cookies. She never missed any opportunity to. So, each time I finished bathroom business, we’d sing along to any song… mostly Taylor Swift.
I smiled lightly. As a thirty-three-year-old woman, she loved Taylor Swift.
For someone battling with cancer, she had so much energy.
As I grew, I got to realize that her overly high energy around me was to avoid suspicions.
She knew there wasn’t hope for her despite treatment, so she wanted to keep the news from me for as long as possible.
Young, naive me would believe her.
I believed her facade despite the few times I heard her cry behind closed doors. Despite the few times I overheard her telling Dad she couldn’t do it anymore.
Shortly after, she started chemo. Even through chemo, she acted strong.
Till she took her last breath, she was strong for me… for Dad.
She’d want me to be the same now.
I didn’t think Mom would have wanted me to be unprofessionally involved with Ethan, but still, she’d advise me to be strong.
It was her superpower. She knew how to bring calm to the storm.
I had to be strong for her.
Slowly, I unwrapped the towel from around my head and found the hair dryer in the drawer.
I turned it on, keeping it at a distance from my scalp before I started blow drying.
I tried not to let my mind drift to anything that didn’t involve my routine. I tried not to let it drift to the negative.
Successful people like Ethan usually had a buffer for situations like this.
All this would be cleared in no time, and I could return to how things were.
Professional.
After a few minutes, my hair was completely dried. I decided to let it down today.
