by Elena Aitken
Cam had been desperate to get over to Christy’s ever since receiving the simple, and painfully to the point text message two days earlier that their last round of IVF hadn’t worked.
Not pregnant.
Her heart ached for her friend and Cam immediately replied with words of comfort, but she knew it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t near enough to ease the pain she knew her friend was feeling. Christy had wanted to be a mother as long as Cam could remember. She couldn’t even imagine the hurt she must be going through.
Which was why she wasn’t surprised when Christy hadn’t answered the door when she knocked. She also hadn’t answered any of her phone calls or text messages. Cam had gone by the clinic to talk to Mark, and he’d told her that Christy had been lying in bed, mostly sleeping and staring at the television since they’d come home. Cam wanted to be respectful and give her friend space, but she also knew there was such a thing as too much space.
“Christy?” She called into the house as she made her way down the hallway into the kitchen. Cam was used to the smells of baking coming from Christy’s oven, or at least plates of cookies and muffins on the counters.
She put her packages down on clean, bare countertops. Not only was there no trace of Christy’s usual baking, there didn’t seem to be a trace of anything.
“Christy?” Cam called again. “Are you awake?” She shook her head and muttered to herself, “If you’re not, you will be soon.” She made her way down the hall, fully prepared to wake her friend, get her outside and shower her with the love she obviously needed. But when she got to the bedroom door, knocked and pushed it open, she wasn’t prepared to find Christy fully dressed, slipping into a pair of shoes and grabbing her purse.
Christy practically ran into her as she stepped into the room.
“Cam?” Her friend took a step back, but her smile didn’t slip. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.” Cam looked around the room. The sun shone through the blinds, onto a perfectly made bed with nary a glass of water, let alone a crumpled tissue, in sight. It wasn’t even a little bit the scene she’d expected to walk into. “How are you doing?” She looked back to her friend in question, trying to assess how Christy was really doing. “I was afraid you would be…”
“I’m fine.” Christy slipped her purse over her shoulder.
“Fine?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Because of everything you’ve just been through, Cam wanted to say. Because your dreams of motherhood were just crushed. Because…because you must be heartbroken.
Instead, Cam reached out to her friend and said, “Because you’ve had a rough few days is all. I just thought you might want to talk. I brought cookies.”
Christy was known for her bubbly personality, the way she never let anything get her down, and no matter what, always had a positive attitude, but…Cam could not reconcile her best friend with the person in front of her when Christy laughed. Laughed. And said, “Cam. I’m fine. In fact, I was just going to go out and see about getting my hair done.”
“Your hair?”
Besides the fact that Christy’s hair looked perfectly fine, it just seemed…strange. The Christy she knew would be hurting, crying, and reacting very, very differently.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Did you hear me say I brought cookies? They’re from the Dough Knot, and they were just pulled out of the oven. Still warm.”
If there was one thing Christy loved, it was baking. Usually her own delicious creations, but no one in town would turn down anything Sylvie over at the Dough Knot pulled out of the oven.
To Cam’s surprise, Christy shook her head and patted her stomach. “No more cookies for me. I’m afraid I have a few extra pounds that need to come off and cookies are definitely not diet friendly.”
“Christy, you don’t need to lose weight. You look great.”
She shook her head and gestured past Cam to the hallway.
Unsure of what was going on, Cam led the way to the kitchen. “Do you want to at least sit and have a cup of tea?” she asked. “Or maybe a glass of wine? I know it’s early, but…”
The wine was a long shot, because ever since Cam had come back to town in the spring, Christy had been participating in what seemed to be an ongoing round of fertility treatments and had been for quite a while and therefore was completely avoiding alcohol. But to her surprise, Christy picked up the bottle and laughed. “It’s never too early for a glass, is it?”
She moved around the kitchen, looking for an opener and a few glasses, while Cam sat in kind of a stunned silence. She should be happy that Christy looked to be bouncing back from what had to be a crushing disappointment with so much ease, but it worried her. A lot.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to drink,” she said when Christy handed her a glass. “Or if you were going to…”
“Have more treatments?” She raised her glass and Cam met it with a clink. “Nope.” She took a deep drink. “That ship has sailed.”
Cam choked on her wine and only barely refrained from spitting it out.
“Are you okay?” Christy put a glass of water in front of her and sat down next to her at the table. “Here, drink this.”
Cam did as she was told and once the coughing subsided, drank a little more water in order to give herself a moment to pull her thoughts together. Surely, Christy was in shock of some kind? She’d heard about that happening when something terrible happened and this situation must rank pretty high on the terrible scale for Christy and Mark.
“I’m fine,” Cam said after a moment. Before Christy could stand up and slip away again, Cam reached for her hand. “Sweetie, I just want you to know that it’s okay to feel any way you need to about this. I know you must still be in shock about how things went the other day, but it’s okay.”
Christy’s smile slipped a little, and just for a moment, Cam thought she might have gotten a glimpse of what was really going on with her friend. But then the moment was gone.
“I’m okay, Cam. Really.” Christy turned her hand over and squeezed it. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but I really do have a handle on things. If I’m being honest with you, it’s actually a relief.”
“A relief?”
“For sure.” Christy nodded, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “I mean, trying to have a baby was so all-consuming for so long that I don’t think I bothered to actually look ahead to what it would mean if we actually had one, you know?”
She didn’t know, but she nodded dumbly and let Christy keep talking.
“So anyway, it’s kind of a nice feeling to not have to worry about all that stuff. Does that make sense?”
Christy didn’t wait for an answer before she jumped up from her chair and grabbed her glass of wine. She took another long sip. “I almost completely forgot what wine tasted like.” She closed her eyes and savored another sip. “So good, right?”
Cam nodded and assessed her friend. She wasn’t convinced by Christy’s act, not by a long shot, but she also knew she wouldn’t get anywhere by pushing her.
“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling okay,” she said instead.
Christy smiled, but even from where she was sitting, Cam could see it didn’t reach her eyes. “I am,” she said and Cam knew without a doubt that her best friend was lying to her. And more troubling—to herself.
It’s not that Christy was lying to her best friend. Not really.
She did feel okay. As okay as she could be expected to. Whatever that meant. She’d spent the last few days lying in her bed, feeling sorry for herself, reliving the last few months and everything she’d been through.
Was it her fault that the IVF hadn’t worked?
Could she have rested more? Gotten more sleep? Maybe she forgot to take her vitamins. What had the doctor said about exercise?
She’d been over every angle in her head. What she could have done differently.
Everything.
Nothing.
It hurt her head to keep thinking about it. But not as much as it hurt her heart, which was why that morning she’d made a decision. No more wallowing in bed thinking about what could have been, or should have been or…no. No more.
She’d been determined to get up, put on a happy face, and get herself a new haircut and maybe a new outfit or something to mark this new beginning. Her entire life, Christy had been unfailingly positive. She was the one out of all her friends who could always find the bright side of things, something to smile about on a rainy day, and always the good in people.
Her mother had always told her, “Fake it till you make it, darling. Smile and the world smiles with you. Cry, and you cry alone.” It had become a mantra that had become part of who she was. So, with her mother’s words ringing in her ears, Christy had pulled herself out of bed, jumped in the shower, and carefully applied makeup to mask the dark circles under her eyes and was just about to face the day when Cam ambushed her.
It’s not that she didn’t love her friend. She really did. No one knew her better than her best friends. With the exception of Mark. But that was the problem. She didn’t want to be around anyone who knew her really well. Not right now. Not until she was feeling better.
And she was about to take the first step in feeling better and moving on the best way that she knew how.
Cam had sounded surprised when Christy said she was going to get her hair done, as if that was going to make her feel better. But it was. Christy knew it would make her feel better. If only because it couldn’t make her feel any worse.
She’d gone straight down to Main Street the moment she was able to convince Cam that she was fine. Christy knew Cam wouldn’t want to go to the Crop Shop with her, not since her fiancé, Evan Anderson’s, ex-girlfriend worked there. The last time Cam had her hair done at the Crop Shop, Stephanie had taken liberties with Cam’s hair. Sure, it was passive-aggressive, and Cam ended up with a much shorter haircut than she’d wanted, but it still looked amazing. Because Stephanie was a talented stylist. Which was why Christy was there.
“Hi, Christy.” Stephanie waved at her across the shop as soon as she stepped inside. The smell of the chemicals used for perms and colors, combined with a sweet, almost fruity shampoo smell, mingled in the air. “I’ll be right with you. Take a seat.”
Christy nodded, grabbed one of the hairstyle magazines off the table and perched on the end of a chair. The minute she sat, she wished she hadn’t. It was a thin plastic chair. The kind that was designed more for style and the trendy way it looked in a waiting room than for comfort or durability.
The chair tilted forward the instant she sat down and she had to quickly shoot her legs out in front of her to keep from falling off. The chair slammed down as she regained her balance and there was an audible cracking sound.
Christy wanted to die. Had she seriously just broken the chair?
Her face flamed with the heat of the embarrassment. She wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. Instead, she stood and took a quick step away from the chair, putting distance between herself and the offensive object. Her eyes locked with a woman sitting on the other side of the waiting area, and Christy immediately averted her eyes from the look of judgment the other woman was giving her.
“Hey there.” Stephanie’s friendly voice distracted her from her moment of mortification. “What’s wrong?” The smile slipped from Stephanie’s face when she saw Christy’s.
“I broke the…I think maybe…” She gestured to the chair and fought the tears that were threatening.
Seriously? After everything she’d been through, she was going to cry about a stupid chair? Christy blinked hard and shook her head. She would not lose it over a stupid chair.
“What?” Stephanie looked between her and the chair and finally made the connection. “The chair? Oh my goodness, Christy. Don’t worry about it. These stupid chairs are always breaking. I just can’t wait until they’re all finally garbaged so we can get some new ones in here.” Stephanie took her arm and gently steered her into the shop. She led her to her stylist’s chair, where Christy sat with relief in the much sturdier seat.
“Now…” Stephanie lifted her hair out over the protective cape and let it flutter over her shoulders. “What are we going to do today?”
“I need a change.” Christy looked directly into the mirror at her reflection. At the lifeless blonde hair that fell limp around her chubby face and down her back, the lines under her dull eyes that hadn’t been there last year. She was only thirty-four years old, but she looked at least ten years older. To say that the last few years had been hard on her was a huge understatement.
They’d destroyed her.
It had all been worth it, though. At least, that’s what she’d told herself through the countless treatments as she watched the extra pounds add up, dealt with the almost constant headaches, the overwhelming fatigue that left her feeling wrung out and lifeless. It would all be worth it once she had a baby of her own in her arms.
And it would have been. But now…
She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut against her reflection before she opened them again with a new resolve. “Cut it all off.”
Chapter Three
“Do you like it?”
Christy heard the hesitation in the other woman’s voice as she stared in the mirror at her new hairdo and completely new look, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Her hand drifted up to her head. She fingered the much shorter, much redder strands and still couldn’t formulate any words.
“Christy?” Stephanie bent so her head was closer to hers. “Say something. I know you wanted it to be different, but I hope this isn’t too different. I mean, I think you look—”
“Amazing.” The word came out as a whisper of incredulity. Christy squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again but the reflection was still the same. “Like a completely different person.”
She didn’t recognize herself. She’d asked Stephanie to cut it all off, and although the hairstylist had used restraint in that regard, she’d still taken at least five inches off the length, leaving Christy with a sassy, shaggy cut that just brushed her shoulders. But as incredible as the cut was, it wasn’t the biggest change.
Not even close.
While she’d been sitting in the chair, Stephanie had mentioned something about putting some highlights in for something different. Christy couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever had a color of any kind in her blonde hair. There was once a time where she regularly got things brightened or lifted or even got some fun temporary colors when she was younger, but it had been years since she’d allowed herself the indulgence. After all, some people thought that it wasn’t safe to color your hair while you were pregnant. And even if there was no truth in it, Christy wasn’t going to take that risk while she was even trying.
But that was no longer a problem.
She vaguely remembered telling Stephanie to do whatever she wanted and the end result was…
“Amazing,” she said again, louder this time. Christy ran fingers through her hair, now a striking shade of red and laughed. It was the first real laugh she could remember in way too long.
“You really like it?”
Christy met Stephanie’s gaze in the mirror. “More than anything. It’s exactly what I didn’t know I wanted.”
Stephanie laughed at that. “Good. I’m glad. I kind of got the impression you wanted something totally different and well…”
“This is different.” In all the right ways.
“That it is.” Stephanie pulled the cape that was protecting Christy’s clothes off, and let down her stylist chair so she could step out.
“It’s perfect.” Christy followed the stylist to the front and paid her bill, including a healthy gratuity.
She left the salon feeling lighter and better than she’d felt in months. It was just hair; Christy knew that. It was just a small thing, but definitely a step in the right direction. She’d intended to go home after her appointmen
t, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go back to the big, quiet, lonely house. There’d once been a time she loved nothing more than spending time in her home, decorating each room, picking out just the right colors, and furniture for the family she would soon have. Every day had been exciting and full of anticipation.
Not anymore.
Determined not to let sadness creep over her again, Christy turned around and headed instead for Dress Up, the nicest boutique shop in town. It was pricy, so she usually reserved shopping at Dress Up for special occasions, but if a fresh start wasn’t a special occasion, she didn’t know what was. Besides, she deserved something new and more importantly, something that would match her new hair.
She giggled a little at herself and swung open the glass door of the shop where she spent the next forty-five minutes selecting new outfits. She’d put on a few pounds since fertility treatments started and at first she was discouraged with her increased size. But the salesgirl, Beth, showed her some things she never would have considered that actually accented her new curves instead of trying to hide them. She tried on dresses and tops she never would have considered and pants that hugged her backside instead of the oversized jeans she had been wearing to cover herself. By the time Christy left the shop, she had two bags bursting with new outfits and a hefty credit card bill, but more importantly, she felt fantastic about her new look.
Before she left, she changed into one of her new purchases—skinny jeans, with blinged-out rear pockets, and a low-cut black top that flowed over all her trouble spots but made her feel ridiculously sexy—and left her worn-out baggy jeans and old t-shirt in the dressing room.
If she hadn’t wanted to go home before, Christy really wasn’t in the mood to be alone after her mini makeover. She glanced down the street at Daisy’s Diner, her favorite coffee shop, but coffee or tea wasn’t what she was in the mood for.
