Page 136 of While I’m Still Here

I swallow. “What if I don't feel sexy anymore?”

Colin's thumb moves slowly across my knuckles. “Then you don't owe me sexy.”

That breaks me. I reach for him, and Colin bends carefully over the bed so I can wrap my arms around his neck without pulling against anything painful. He holds me differently because he has to, but he doesn't hesitate over where his hands should go or make the difference feel frightening. When Danny quietly rests a hand against my shin through the blanket, he doesn't interrupt the hug either. He's simply there.

When I finally lift my head, I find Marcus watching me. “What?” I ask.

Marcus hesitates before speaking. “I remember people telling me I was still me.”

I sniff. “Colin just did.”

“I know. And he isn't wrong.” Marcus glances briefly at Colin, then looks back at me. “But it didn't comfort me either.”

Something inside me catches. “Why?”

“Because I knew I was still Marcus. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that I went to sleep with a body I knew and woke up with one I didn't. Everyone around me recognised me immediately, but I looked down and couldn't find the version of myself I expected to see.”

“Yes.” The word tears out of me. “Exactly.”

Colin's hand tightens around mine, and I turn towards him. “You didn't say anything wrong.”

“I know.”

“It just doesn't fix it.”

“I know that too.”

Marcus nods. “Someone else recognising you doesn't necessarily make your own body familiar. That part takes time.”

“How much?” Marcus gives me a look. “Don't you dare say you don't know.”

“I don't know.”

“Fucking useless.”

“I've been very clear about the limitations of my service.”

From the other side of the bed, Danny suddenly leans forward. His eyes are still red, but something familiar has returned to his expression. “For what it's worth, I have something useful to contribute.”

I look at him suspiciously. “What?”

Danny studies me for a moment before saying, with absolute seriousness, “Your hair looks fucking atrocious.”

I stare at him. Colin starts laughing beside me. Marcus drops his head, his shoulders moving with the effort of not joining in.

“I've just had major surgery,” I tell Danny. “You absolute cunt.”

Danny's smile finally appears. “There she is.”

The laugh hurts when it comes, but I let it anyway, and when I look down again afterwards, I still hate what I see.

Of course I do.

A few jokes and three men sitting around my bed cannot make this body familiar in an afternoon. I don't suddenly see strength or beauty or some fucking inspirational warrior staring back at me. I see dressings where my breasts used to be. I miss the left one despite everything it did, and I miss the right one even though the poor bitch was only guilty by association. I think about the photographs on my phone, Free-Tittie Week and every year I spent promising I'd appreciate my body after I'd made it thinner, prettier, better.

I wish I'd loved it sooner.

My hand moves towards my chest again, but this time I don't search for something that isn't there. I carefully rest my palm over the dressing and let myself feel what actually is tyhen I look at Danny. “Give me my fucking penguin.”