Things started to feel real when Elliott lost his hair.

     He had tried to keep it for as long as he possibly could. Stating that it was his “only and best asset,” but when his hair started falling out in clumps, he knew it had to go.

     We tried to keep things light by throwing a “going away” party for his hair. Even inviting our friends from school. The first hour had been fun, but the atmosphere changed when he sat down in the officer chair I had set up in the bathroom and my mom started shaving his head. His smile had fallen as he watched his reflection in the mirror.

    I remember seeing tears in his eyes. I remember watching as he quickly tried to brush them away. No one was laughing and joking anymore, they had tried hard not to notice his tears. When Elliott had showered and revealed his bald head to the group, did the mood somewhat go back to the way it had been. But every-so-often I would catch Elliott staring off into space or rubbing his head.

    When everyone was gone, I had flitted around the house, cleaning; trying to take my mind from everything.

     What I remember most, was my mom. She had offered to clean up the hair form the bathroom floor. I remember watching from the doorway as she picked up a curly clump of Elliott’s hair and just… held it. Rubbing it between her fingers. I remember seeing tears glistening on her cheeks and a quiet sob left her lips.

    I realized then that I wasn’t going to be the only person who felt like this was a loss. That somehow him losing his hair meant the coming of an end.

** ** **

     Later that night, when Elliott went back home, I couldn’t sleep. I had stayed up all night, tossing and turning. I hadn’t been able to let go of the look on Elliott’s face. I found myself in front of my bathroom mirror that night, just staring at my reflection. Running my fingers through my hair; through the mess of tangled red curls. Taking in its red color; the thing that started all this.

    I didn’t even know what I was thinking back then. My hands just moved on their own, pulling the hair clippers from the drawer and plugging it in. I had been daunted but I remember working up the courage to pull the clippers to pull through my hair the first time.

     I was able to feel what Elliott felt in that moment. That overwhelming feeling that bloomed and blossomed in my chest. As if a crushing weight was being laid on my chest and I couldn’t even breath, I could still remember that feeling so many years after. I didn’t even realize I was sobbing until my mom had come in to find me still trying to drag the clippers through years of hair. She understood why I had done what I did and had cried too as she helped me hack off the rest of my hair.

    When I showed up at Elliott’s house the next day, he had been shocked.

He couldn’t keep his hands from running over my smooth head. “Queenie your hair!” He laughed in wonder.

It was the type of laugh that I couldn’t help giggling too, “my hair!”

    “It’s all gone! It was so beautiful!” Tears were forming in his eyes as he brushed his fingers over my scalp.

I had smiled, tears blurring my vision as I gently grabbed his hand, “it’s just hair Ellie. It’ll grow back.”

He dragged me into a hug then, holding my tightly.

    The look on his face that whole day was priceless. I would have cut off my hair repeatedly just to see that look.