Peregrine
I turned the other cheek, but the turn was a 360
She looked up from the kitchen table as she heard the front door open and shut, then looked back down to the papers and sticky notes strewn across the surface.
She felt the anxiety that had settled in her chest since that morning crank up a notch, her heart starting a trilling beat in her neck. She just twisted the pen in her fingers as the plodding sneakered footsteps came her direction, and kept her eyes down. She made her voice distracted and casual, her eyes pretending to read the bill front and center. "So how was it going back?"
The table shifted as a seat across from her was occupied and a bag was dropped with an unceremonious thump to the floor.
She pulled her eyes up to look at her daughter who was slumping slightly in the chair, the hood of her sweater pulled down slightly over her brow. Her mom instincts started ringing and a brow raised at the squirming look on the pale, but beautiful face across from her.
"High school can be a whole other ball game, can't it?"
She honestly couldn't believe her daughter was old enough for high school, let alone everything else the last year had brought, but here they were.
"Well... yeah, but it's not that different than I'm used to."
"Okay, then why the face?"
The girl just shrugged again and sighed. "You know how I didn't want to be that girl?"
The woman sighed and her face pulled up on one side. "Did someone say something? A teacher bring something up in class even though we asked them not to?"
The girl shook her head and then sighed again and leaned over and pulled her backpack up and set it on the table as she started to talk.
"Everything was going fine. I was fine. Except the school was warmer than I was expecting and getting from class to class wore me out and made me even more hot. So when I got to lunch, I was sitting with my friends and I was just sweating and I didn't even think about it and just reached up and..."
The woman wasn't sure if she should be concerned and ready to console or not as she watched the conflict warring on her daughters face.
"And I just pulled my wig off! In the middle of the freaking LUNCHROOM like a CRAZY PERSON!" Her face had flushed and she buried her face in her hands with a groan while her mom pursed her lips and tried to hide the smile that wanted to spread across her mouth, and the chuckle that was bubbling in her throat, purely at the dramatic performance from a daughter who loved the stage.
Instead she cleared it and reached across the table and put her hand gently on her daughter's arm. "Well... that certainly isn't going to let you fly under the radar with anyone who was watching, but you go to a big school, maybe not too many people saw."
The girl let out a muffled moan behind her hands.
She knew she couldn't make light of it, but she also didn't want her to feel ashamed of something she had no control off. She carefully stood up, pushing her chair back and came around the table. She sat down, gently putting one of her arms around her shoulders and the other reached up to the hood and pushed it back. Her hand ran gently over the soft skin made prickly by barely growing hair. "At least you have a very nice head. Dad and I were extra cautious, you being our first and all. Everything was babyproofed to the roof," She let her fingers roam and her voice took on the quality of someone studying an extra intriguing piece of art, "Practically perfect!, There isn't a lump or bump or dent in the lovely work I cooked up."
"MOM!" The girl was chuckling and finally pulled her hands away from her face and looked over.
Her mom just smiled and ran her finger tip over the single small scar near the crown of her head that she used to only be able to see when she braided her long hair. Her voice got softer and more contemplative, "Except this little tiny one. That was allll you though," she gave her a squeeze and teasing smile, "Jumping off the bed at grandmas. I had no control that she hadn't put bubble wrap on every surface and you hit the corner of that dresser."
Her daughter just shook her head with a smile that slowly faded as she went quiet for a time.
"I don't know why I did it. All my friends look mortified. I made some stupid joke, but it felt like I'd somehow done something wrong. Like they were embarrassed by me."
Her mother turned and put her hands on both her shoulders, tugging gently so she was forced to turn in the chair and look at her face on. She put a hand gently on the side of her face, her thumb rubbing gently over a cheek she'd wiped too many tears from for such a young life. "If they were embarrassed, that's on them. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Wear a wig, don't wear a wig, it's all your choice. I know you didn't want to be known as the 'cancer girl' at school, and while that ship might have sailed with you taking off the wig, you still get to choose what you're known, who you're going to be." She took a breath and studied the blue eyes that she could tell wanted to well and cry but also wanted to be strong and not have another thing tainted by tumor. The woman swallowed, "What do we say?"
Her daughter took a deep breath and her eyes did spill over, but she reached up and wiped them away and then sat a little straighter, confidence or passion strengthening her voice. "I almost died, so who gives a shit what anyone else thinks but me."
Her mom smiled and nodded, "Besides, my darling, daring girl," her voice took on an almost awards show host quality, and her arm stretched out in a sweeping arch in front of them like sun breaking across the sky, "You're Dawn. You're the first break of light in the darkness and you were meant to shine!"
She felt the anxiety that had settled in her chest since that morning crank up a notch, her heart starting a trilling beat in her neck. She just twisted the pen in her fingers as the plodding sneakered footsteps came her direction, and kept her eyes down. She made her voice distracted and casual, her eyes pretending to read the bill front and center. "So how was it going back?"
The table shifted as a seat across from her was occupied and a bag was dropped with an unceremonious thump to the floor.
She pulled her eyes up to look at her daughter who was slumping slightly in the chair, the hood of her sweater pulled down slightly over her brow. Her mom instincts started ringing and a brow raised at the squirming look on the pale, but beautiful face across from her.
"High school can be a whole other ball game, can't it?"
She honestly couldn't believe her daughter was old enough for high school, let alone everything else the last year had brought, but here they were.
"Well... yeah, but it's not that different than I'm used to."
"Okay, then why the face?"
The girl just shrugged again and sighed. "You know how I didn't want to be that girl?"
The woman sighed and her face pulled up on one side. "Did someone say something? A teacher bring something up in class even though we asked them not to?"
The girl shook her head and then sighed again and leaned over and pulled her backpack up and set it on the table as she started to talk.
"Everything was going fine. I was fine. Except the school was warmer than I was expecting and getting from class to class wore me out and made me even more hot. So when I got to lunch, I was sitting with my friends and I was just sweating and I didn't even think about it and just reached up and..."
The woman wasn't sure if she should be concerned and ready to console or not as she watched the conflict warring on her daughters face.
"And I just pulled my wig off! In the middle of the freaking LUNCHROOM like a CRAZY PERSON!" Her face had flushed and she buried her face in her hands with a groan while her mom pursed her lips and tried to hide the smile that wanted to spread across her mouth, and the chuckle that was bubbling in her throat, purely at the dramatic performance from a daughter who loved the stage.
Instead she cleared it and reached across the table and put her hand gently on her daughter's arm. "Well... that certainly isn't going to let you fly under the radar with anyone who was watching, but you go to a big school, maybe not too many people saw."
The girl let out a muffled moan behind her hands.
She knew she couldn't make light of it, but she also didn't want her to feel ashamed of something she had no control off. She carefully stood up, pushing her chair back and came around the table. She sat down, gently putting one of her arms around her shoulders and the other reached up to the hood and pushed it back. Her hand ran gently over the soft skin made prickly by barely growing hair. "At least you have a very nice head. Dad and I were extra cautious, you being our first and all. Everything was babyproofed to the roof," She let her fingers roam and her voice took on the quality of someone studying an extra intriguing piece of art, "Practically perfect!, There isn't a lump or bump or dent in the lovely work I cooked up."
"MOM!" The girl was chuckling and finally pulled her hands away from her face and looked over.
Her mom just smiled and ran her finger tip over the single small scar near the crown of her head that she used to only be able to see when she braided her long hair. Her voice got softer and more contemplative, "Except this little tiny one. That was allll you though," she gave her a squeeze and teasing smile, "Jumping off the bed at grandmas. I had no control that she hadn't put bubble wrap on every surface and you hit the corner of that dresser."
Her daughter just shook her head with a smile that slowly faded as she went quiet for a time.
"I don't know why I did it. All my friends look mortified. I made some stupid joke, but it felt like I'd somehow done something wrong. Like they were embarrassed by me."
Her mother turned and put her hands on both her shoulders, tugging gently so she was forced to turn in the chair and look at her face on. She put a hand gently on the side of her face, her thumb rubbing gently over a cheek she'd wiped too many tears from for such a young life. "If they were embarrassed, that's on them. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Wear a wig, don't wear a wig, it's all your choice. I know you didn't want to be known as the 'cancer girl' at school, and while that ship might have sailed with you taking off the wig, you still get to choose what you're known, who you're going to be." She took a breath and studied the blue eyes that she could tell wanted to well and cry but also wanted to be strong and not have another thing tainted by tumor. The woman swallowed, "What do we say?"
Her daughter took a deep breath and her eyes did spill over, but she reached up and wiped them away and then sat a little straighter, confidence or passion strengthening her voice. "I almost died, so who gives a shit what anyone else thinks but me."
Her mom smiled and nodded, "Besides, my darling, daring girl," her voice took on an almost awards show host quality, and her arm stretched out in a sweeping arch in front of them like sun breaking across the sky, "You're Dawn. You're the first break of light in the darkness and you were meant to shine!"