Claire continues to rub her palm over my head while she wipes the tears off of her cheeks. “I didn’t hate the tattoo, but this is insane.”
All I can do is shrug. “Yep, it’s totally insane. You need to know that regardless of my actions the last few weeks, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Claire drops her hand into her lap but continues to stare at my shaved head. “I hate to tell you this, but you look like a total asshole, baldy.”
I laugh, reaching for the scarf to put it back on my head. Claire puts her hand on top of mine and shakes her head. “Oh, no. Scarf stays off. Also, when I’m done here, we’re going to parade you through the grocery store so people will roll their eyes and make snap judgments about your fashion style. I’m going to tell people you’re in a gang and make you bark at them.”
Claire rests her head on my shoulder and I set my chin on top of her head. We both stare at the IV, the bag of chemo almost empty. We watch the liquid slowly flow through the tube connected to her PICC line. With each drop that falls, I say a prayer that everything I said to Claire today will come true—that she’ll be okay and she’ll never leave me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Claire tucks herself in closer to me, grabbing onto my hand and squeezing it. “I know you are.”
Carter walks back in the room and does a double-take when he sees my bald head. “Dammit, I knew you’d outdo me. Shaving my balls and pussy isn’t as cool anymore.”
We ignore the strange stares from the other patients as Carter makes himself comfortable in his chair next to Claire and me.
“You’re going to be okay,” I remind her.
Claire nods her head. “Yep, I’m totally going to be fine.”
For the next half our while she finishes her treatment, our high kicks in and everything suddenly seems so funny that we can’t stop giggling. Claire makes me practice my barking for when she takes me to the grocery store and I make her meow like a cat in honor of her poor, shaved pussy at home. I’m pretty sure it’s the one and only time someone almost got kicked out of their own chemo treatment.
Things are finally back to normal and aside from the pot flowing through me, there’s also hope. Pot and hope… it doesn’t get much better than that.
Five months later…
“DREW, WHAT THE hell is in that bag?” I ask as he walks into Claire’s hospital room, hefting the largest duffle bag I have ever seen on top of the table next to her bed.
“This, my friends, is to prove my theory that size DOES matter,” he tells us as he unzips the bag and digs around inside. “I like to call it my Bag O’ Boobs.”
“Wait, since when did anyone EVER say that size doesn’t matter?” Claire asks as we all stare at Drew.
“Since we started talking about your new rack,” Drew informs us, pulling out two lemons and holding them up in front of his chest.
Claire finally finished with all of her chemo treatments two weeks ago and is now undergoing reconstruction surgery. During her mastectomy, the doctor inserted a tissue expander under her skin, but he wanted to wait until her chemo was finished before completing the reconstruction and giving her new boobs. He said that chemo and radiation could sometimes affect implants, so it was easier to just expand the skin on her chest during treatment and then go back and put the implants in when she’s done.
“What you have here is your basic A cup. It’s budding and beautiful, a perfect small handful and it can get the job done. Since you’d never let me touch your old ones, I’m going by sight alone and I’ve determined that you were a generous A cup, correct?” Drew asks Claire.
“Oh, good Lord,” she mutters.
“Now, why go with what you had before when you can get something new and improved? This is your time, Claire. Your time to make all of my boob dreams come true.”
Carter reaches into the bag and pulls out a honeydew melon. Drew immediately snatches it out of his hand and puts it off to the side of the table.
“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he scolds.
Drew goes back to the bag and pulls out two oranges. “This here is the next step up. A lovely B cup that is not only ample but alluring.”
My husband eyes the oranges and then looks at my chest, nodding his head. “True story.”
I roll my eyes as Drew continues, setting the oranges down and pulling out two grapefruits.
“Next we have the C cup. Full and fabulous. A little more than a handful, but looks great in a bikini.”
“I’m suddenly hungry for fruit salad, anyone else?” Jim asks.
Drew ignores him, pulling two cantaloupes out of the bag next.
Jenny walks over and grabs one of them, holding it up to her own boob. “This is me! I have candy loop boobs!”
Drew kisses her cheek, taking the melon back. “Yes, you have lovely candy loops, sweetie pie.”
He turns back to face Claire. “D cup. Voluptuous and va-va-va-voom! More than a handful, more than a mouthful and has a delicious, juicy center.”
“Eeeeew,” I complain.
Jim picks up the honeydew on the table while Drew reaches into the bag and pulls out its match.
“Behold, the double D,” Drew says in awe. “Bountiful and bodacious, porn star tits and the star of many a man’s fantasy.”
Carter and Jim rub their hands over the honeydew with a glazed look in their eyes. I smack the back of both of their heads since Claire is hooked up to an IV in bed and can’t reach Carter.