Hidden Blessings

by Kim Cash Tate

  Kendra thought about it as she dressed, wondering whether she had the nerve to do it herself. A barber could do it, but she didn’t want the questions.

  She sighed to herself. The questions would come whether she wanted them or not, once her hair was gone. Would she wear a wig? Scarves or hats?

  She wasn’t ready to think about all that. It was enough that cancer marched over her breast, growing it, deforming it. Would any aspect of her being go untouched? Would she become a shell of herself? Her arms began to shake as new realities bombarded her. New pain. New emotions. New fears. New awareness of something else about her life that would never be the same. She closed her eyes and held herself.

  In the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge.

  In the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge.

  Her heart repeated it until tears wet her cheeks—and a knock on the door startled her.

  She wiped her eyes. “Come in.”

  Lance showed himself. “Spinach omelet?”

  “I guess,” Kendra said, only because she probably wouldn’t taste it. “But first, can you . . .” She swallowed. “Can you help me cut my hair?” She’d seen him shaping up his own.

  Lance came closer, looking at her.

  “It’s coming out, and I . . .”

  The words caught in her throat. This was harder than she thought. Who would she be without her hair?

  “You sure?” Lance said. “You’re ready?”

  That was all the trigger her emotions needed. “No . . .”

  He hugged her. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be right back.”

  Lance returned with scissors and clippers, and even a broom and dustpan. “Let’s go into the bathroom,” he said.

  Kendra’s arms wouldn’t stop twitching as she followed him. He put a towel around her shoulders.

  “How much are we cutting?” he asked.

  She stared in the mirror, her hair hanging below her shoulders, and took a breath. “Cut it to less than an inch.”

  When he reached for the scissors, she took a quarter turn away from the mirror and closed her eyes. The scissors closed on a chunk of hair in back, and her eyes closed even tighter. A second later, she could feel it, a weight of hair gone.

  Lance moved to another area in the back, and another, then the sides, snipping, snipping. When he moved in front of her and lifted her hair, tears began to fall. Snip. Snip. She heard buzzing next as he took his time, shaping it down to a teeny ’fro.

  The buzzing ended finally, and Kendra’s heart beat fast. She turned to the mirror, wanting to see one of the cute fly cuts she’d seen on other women. One of her law school classmates had cut her hair off and gone natural, and though Kendra hadn’t had the nerve to do it, it looked fabulous on her friend. Maybe that . . . please, at least that.

  But when she opened her eyes, it wasn’t cute or fly. It was a close cut induced by cancer, a cut that said her hair would keep falling out, and she’d soon be bald.

  She stared at herself, unable to move.

  Lance turned her around. “You look beautiful.”

  She only shook her head. If she spoke, she’d surely cry. And she was sick of crying.

  “You said I looked intimidating in high school.” Lance spoke softly.

  Kendra looked curiously at him. Where was this coming from?

  “You were intimidating to me too,” he said. “You were the girl who had everything—beautiful, smart, popular, family had money, and actually lived in Clayton. I was the poor boy who got bused in.”

  He held her with his gaze.

  “All these years later,” he said, “part of me still saw you as that. Untouchable. Unreachable. With your hair gone . . . I don’t know . . . It’s like, I see you. And you’re beautiful. Not the beauty I saw before. Deeply . . . beautiful.”

  Slowly they moved closer, and the same arms embraced her, the ones that had been helping her, comforting her. But now she was feeling them, melting into them.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, backing up. “I don’t want to . . . I shouldn’t have . . . I should just . . . sweep up the hair.”

  He went for the broom, and Kendra hastened out of the bathroom to her room. And cried.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  TREY STOOD OUTSIDE THE REDDISH-BROWN BRICK DUPLEX apartment, wondering if it could really be true. Did he have a little sister who’d been living here all this time, right around the corner?

  He’d never bothered to investigate. Thoughts of his dad’s other woman only made him angry. He knew she was a professor at Wash U who worked with his father—which made the weeks on campus following the revelation difficult. But he hadn’t cared to ask questions beyond that. His mother had been his concern, and once she passed he didn’t want to deal with any of it. It’d been a relief when his dad decided to take a sabbatical and spend time at the University of Ghana, far from the scandal.

  But he and Lance had talked about it earlier this week, and he realized he had no answers to the questions Lance asked about his sister. Trey hadn’t given her much thought. She’d been a package deal with her mother, a symbol of his dad’s betrayal. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he needed answers . . . for himself.

  And they were easy to find. He knew the woman’s name, and though her information was unpublished in official directories, nothing was sacred online. It wasn’t surprising that he found her within a few clicks. The surprise was where.

  Trey had been so shocked that he’d jotted down the address, closed the laptop, and walked directly here, in seven minutes. But he wasn’t sure of his next move. Go ahead and knock? Write a letter? Maybe it was an old address, and they’d moved.

  He went with his first instinct, walked inside, and found the door. When he heard nothing on the other side, he suspected no one was home. But moments after he knocked, the apartment door opened.

  The woman was shorter than his mother, maybe five four. And younger. And white. If he was honest, he admitted to himself that it had added to the hurt—that his dad cheated with a white woman.

  “Hello,” he said. “My name is Trey. Actually, Marlon Woods III.”

  “I know who you are, Trey.” She tucked a strand of her chin-length bob behind her ear. “I’m Ellen Patterson. What can I do for you?”

  “Well.” Awkward was an understatement. Trey was suddenly glad he’d shaved and gotten a haircut over the weekend. “I guess it’s simple. I’d like to meet my sister, if that’s all right.”

  “She’s at a day camp,” Ellen said. “But does your dad know you’re here?”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Trey said. “Does it matter?”

  “I was hoping he’d sent you, if you want to know the truth.” Ellen’s arms were folded, her mouth tight. “Brooklyn hasn’t heard from him in months.”

  “Brooklyn? That’s her name?”

  Ellen nodded.

  “How old is she?”

  “Just turned eight.” She eyed him. “Tell you what, if you want to come in, I can show you a picture of her.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Trey stayed for an hour, looking at picture albums of Brooklyn Renee Patterson. It was weird, the way she came to life in his heart. Her laughing smile and big brown eyes seemed to grab him from the page.

  He looked at Ellen. “It’s crazy that Brooklyn lives around the corner, and we’ve never met. Do you think you could bring her over one day, to spend time with Kendra and me?”

  “Kendra’s here?” Ellen said. “I thought she lived in DC.”

  “She’s in town, yes, for a little while.”

  Ellen thought a moment. “I don’t have a problem with that,” she said. “Maybe it’s time.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  LANCE TRIED HIS BEST TO STAY ENGAGED IN CONVERSATION. The Bible study had ended, and everyone was still there—those from last week plus a friend of Timmy’s and another friend of Molly’s. He loved that they wanted to hang out, and really loved that they had tons of questions, which had veere
d off onto wild tangents. Any other time he’d be all over the current debate about the best rappers of all time. But he couldn’t get his mind off Kendra.

  She’d gotten nauseated a little while ago, as she reclined with them in the living room. And Lance had gotten up to help her to the bathroom. But she looked to Trey instead, which was cool . . . except it had happened a lot lately. And not just Trey, but Molly or Cyd or anyone on the planet, it seemed, but Lance.

  Ever since their bathroom encounter almost a week ago, Kendra had been acting different. Lance didn’t know what had come over him, telling her she was beautiful, holding her the way he had. It was out of line. Kendra had been especially vulnerable after he’d cut her hair, and she was probably upset with him for taking advantage. He hated that he’d lost the little trust he’d gained with her.

  Lance looked up as she and Trey returned.

  “I’m about to help Kendra up to her room,” Trey said, eyes on Molly.

  “Oh yes . . . wait!” Molly hopped up and scurried across the entryway to the dining room, emerging seconds later with a gift box.

  Cyd and the other women had gotten up and joined her. They presented it to Kendra together. “Surprise!”

  “For me?” Kendra said. “What for?”

  “For Chemo Day tomorrow,” Molly said. “Come on. I’ll help you open it.”

  She set the box on the coffee table, and together they tore off the glittery paper. Kendra fished through tissue paper and pulled out a package of Saran-wrapped fudge cookies. She held it up, smiling. “Who made these?”

  Cyd raised her hand. “Guilty.”

  “Oh my goodness, thank you.”

  Lance could tell Kendra was laboring, trying to show excitement, but she could barely get through this. He wanted to interject, get her upstairs, let her open gifts while lying down. But he checked himself. Who was he to be so protective of her?

  “Aww,” Kendra said, “I love these plush pink socks.”

  “Yeah, you said it got cold in there last time,” Molly said.

  Kendra swished more tissue paper. “Wow, and fun magazines and more snacks—”

  “I had to throw some healthy stuff in there to offset the cookies,” Cyd said.

  “Ooh, and a movie.”

  “Yep,” Molly said. “When you said animated movies were a good escape afterward, I had to get you one of my faves, The Incredibles. I can’t wait to watch it with you.”

  “Oh good, that’ll be fun,” Kendra said.

  Lance glanced downward. Movie nights had been their thing.

  “Hey,” Trey said, “we should Netflix some stuff on the laptop while we’re there. That’d be a good way to pass the time.”

  “Dope idea,” Molly said. “I didn’t know you were going.”

  “I asked Kendra about it today,” Trey said.

  Kendra glanced briefly at Lance. Two days ago, he’d checked with her to confirm that he was still going with her to chemo, something they’d talked about shortly after her first treatment. She’d said it would be good to go alone, maybe work on her photo blog, something new she’d taken up.

  “I think I’d better head upstairs,” she said.

  A flurry of good-byes and hugs followed, as everyone else got up to go. But when the door closed, Molly lagged behind.

  “Can I ask y’all something?” she said.

  Kendra hadn’t yet gone up, so she, Lance, and Trey waited.

  “I know this is really an imposition, which is funny coming from me since I’ve been an imposition around here for weeks—sorry.” Her eyes turned sheepish. “Buuut, I was wondering if I could crash here for a little while to join that ‘regular rhythm of life’ quest thing.”

  Trey had coined the term, saying he’d be home more to reclaim that rhythm.

  “I feel like I can’t do that at my apartment right now,” she continued. “It’s more normal over here.”

  “You must mean, now that Lance and Kendra are here,” Trey said.

  “That goes without saying.”

  “Molly, of course you can stay,” Kendra said. “Take the guest bedroom upstairs, right next to mine.”

  “Awesome,” Molly said. “I’ll pack some things and be back tomorrow after chemo.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m excited.”

  Kendra smiled. “Me too. I get to watch you mix new hair colors.”

  Molly hesitated, glancing at Kendra’s head. “I’m sorry. I can tone down—”

  “Don’t you dare,” Kendra said. “I’m living vicariously through you.”

  Molly opened the door. “I’m glad I’ll be around to help you, at least for a little while.”

  Molly left. Trey helped Kendra to her room. And Lance went to clean the kitchen, talking back to himself.

  It’s a blessing that Kendra has so much help now . . . a real blessing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  KENDRA LAY STRETCHED ACROSS THE SECTIONAL SOFA IN THE lower level, laughing at Despicable Me. She and Molly had gone Netflix crazy today, watching one movie after another, though Kendra had fallen asleep during parts of them.

  She thought they’d get kicked out by now. Lance had a photo shoot late morning, and he liked to edit his pictures right away. She’d warned Molly they’d have to take a break once he got back. But it was early evening, and she hadn’t yet seen him. In fact, she hadn’t seen him much yesterday either. As much as she’d coaxed him to get out and live his life, she didn’t think it would feel so weird when he actually did.

  “That’s so sad,” she said, back into the movie. “All those little girls want is to be adopted.”

  Molly lay on the other end of the sectional. “I remember I wanted that too.”

  “Wanted what?”

  “To be adopted.”

  Kendra paused the movie. “Were you in foster care or something?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Molly said. “But we didn’t have much, and I used to dream that a rich family adopted me.”

  “Where did you grow up?” Kendra asked.

  “Near the Ozarks,” Molly said.

  Kendra had read about the high poverty in that part of Missouri, but she’d never met anyone from there. “So what did you dream of having?”

  “A car that didn’t break down all the time, for one,” Molly said. “New clothes, that kind of thing.”

  “Did you live with both your parents? What about siblings?”

  “Yeah, Dad did odd jobs to make ends meet. Mom ran a home day care. I’m the oldest, with a younger brother and sister.”

  Kendra was silent, taking in what she’d said. “So, I’m curious how you got to Wash U. I mean, clearly you’re smart, but there are a whole lot of smart people who want to go there. And it’s stupid expensive.”

  “Life was hard,” Molly said, “but school was easy. I had a teacher who really got behind me, wanted me to succeed. She said I tested at ‘genius level,’ whatever that means. She and the principal helped me get an academic scholarship.” She paused. “But if I had it to do over, I wouldn’t come.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too much pressure to have things,” Molly said. “I took out loans the first two years to buy clothes and a car, lied about my background. I wanted so badly to belong. Even dyed my hair blond—which I don’t even like—to fit in.” She saw Kendra’s eyes graze her current shade. “I know. You’re thinking, okay, you like electric blue over blond?”

  “Nope,” Kendra said. “Just listening.”

  “The thing is,” Molly said, “when my little charade blew up, it was my way of acting out, saying I’m just going to be me.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “Everything unraveled when my parents came up to visit. I told them not to, but they just had to surprise me.” She shook her head. “One of the girls in my dorm—I couldn’t stand her—talked to them like she was my best friend. Then she told everybody I was a fraud.”

  “Oh, Molly . . .”

  “Trey knew my story from the beginning tho
ugh,” Molly said. “If it weren’t for him . . .” She lapsed into thought. “He’s really been there for me.”

  “You’ve been there for him too,” Kendra said.

  During chemo on Thursday, she and Trey had done none of the things they’d planned. Instead they simply talked, and Kendra had been grateful to her brother for opening up and entrusting her with the things he’d been going through. She’d never felt closer to him.

  Kendra continued. “When Trey didn’t trust anyone else, he trusted you. You’re a true friend.”

  “I told him we need shirts that say ‘Dynamic Duo’ or something.” Molly got a text and looked at it. “Speaking of Dynamo Man, he’s back from the grocery store and wants me to help cook.” She looked at Kendra. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

  Kendra laughed. “I’m more afraid of Trey’s cooking than yours.”

  “Will you be all right down here?” Molly said. “I can help you up.”

  “Thanks, I’m okay,” Kendra said. “I’ll upload some photos I took this morning and take a look at them.”

  Since apparently I have time to use the computer . . . since Lance is who knows where . . .

  “I’ll help you over there then,” Molly said.

  Molly helped Kendra stand, knowing she’d been woozy and fatigued, and Kendra grabbed her camera from the coffee table.

  “Thanks, girl,” Kendra said, sitting in Lance’s chair.

  Kendra shook the mouse to wake the computer, then took the media card out of her camera. Ready to upload, she looked at the screen and paused. Lance must’ve been editing earlier, from yesterday’s engagement shoot. But why was there a picture of Adrienne on the screen?

  Curious, she started scrolling, seeing dozens of shots of a woman and, presumably, her fiancé in an area of Forest Park. Then she came to one of Adrienne with the woman. Okay, they’re friends—and Adrienne just had to go to the engagement shoot. No need to wonder why.