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7
Ally
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I bend over and slip my feet into my Keds, then tie the laces. I get up and smooth my hands over my yellow sundress, then walk over to the long mirror hanging on the back of the door. I take stock of my appearance and notice the differences in my body already.
The doctor wasn’t joking when he said my appetite would go down. Even though I’ve been through this twice before, I had forgotten how difficult it was to keep down food. Half the time I eat, I throw it back up. The other half, I eat so little because I’m worried it’ll make me sick.
Looking at my slimmer cheeks and my now protruding shoulders and collarbones, I can already tell a difference in the two weeks since I started treatments. And I’m not the only one. Ashlyn has noticed as well. I know she’s worried. I see it on her face every time she looks at me. Dillon masks his concern better, but I still see it lingering there. I’ve also developed a light rash, something I didn’t have the times before I went through chemo. Dr. Fowler assured me it was nothing to worry about.
All of this only after two weeks. What will I look like a month from now?
My eyes move up to my hair. It used to be thick and shiny, but now hangs limply and looks dull.
Gathering up my hair, I use the hairband on my wrist to pull it back into a high ponytail. Having my hair up emphasizes the hollowness of my cheeks and my boney shoulders, but it’s hot outside, so it’ll have to do.
Rapid banging comes from the other side of my door, and I step back from the mirror just in time to not get whacked in the face when it opens. Ashlyn appears in the doorway, her face flushed.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking a step closer to her.
Before she has a chance to respond, there’s a commotion coming from the front of the house.
“Yeah, you better come to the door.”
I rush out of the room, my stomach sinking.
I come to a stop several feet from the front door when I hear a deep voice growl, “Who in the hell are you, and where is my wife?”
Dillon is blocking the doorway so I can’t see past him, but I’d know that voice anywhere.
I hurry forward, stepping in front of Dillon.
“Trent? What are you doing here?”
He looks down at me, hurt and confusion on his face. His gaze roams over my body briefly before settling back on my eyes.
“Who’s that man?” He looks past me to Dillon, who has taken a step back.
“It’s definitely not what you think,” I tell him, stepping to the side. “That’s Dillon.” Ashlyn walks up and Dillon places his arm around her shoulders. “And you remember Ashlyn? He’s her husband.”
I drop my chin, unable to look at his pain-filled eyes any longer. His hand appears in my line of vision, then he’s lifting my chin so I have to look at him. “What in the hell is going on, Ally?”
My eyes sting and my mouth goes dry. As much as I wanted to keep the truth from Trent, he’s here now, and there’s no way I can continue to lie to his face.
I bring my gaze to Ashlyn and Dillon. “I’m gonna take him to my room so we can talk. Do you mind….”
“Go,” Ashlyn says. “We’ll call Mom and Dad and let them know you can’t make it.”
“No. They were kind enough to organize the get together for me, and I’d still like to go. I just need a little time with Trent to explain. You three go ahead. We’ll come by later.”
Ashlyn nods.
Taking Trent’s hand, I lead him back to my room. He walks inside, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he looks around the room. After several seconds, he spins around and faces me. A look passes over his face that has my chest feeling tight and tears forming in my eyes.
He knows.
Taking a seat on the bed, his head drops, and I watch his shoulders lift and fall as he takes several deep breaths. When he lifts his head again, my breath gets stuck in my throat at the tormented look.
“Come here,” he says, his voice cracking.
