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“Hair clippers?” Penny’s brows furrow. “Why would you… Oh. You’re going to do it? Now?”
“My hair’s been falling out more and more with each wash and each session. At this point, it’s more painful to watch it fall. It feels like I’m losing a part of me with every strand.” My eyes close and one more tear slides down my cheek. “I can’t keep doing it. I can’t keep losing. This way, at least, it’s on my terms. The decision is completely mine.”
Penny wipes her thumb over my cheek. “Okay, we’re doing it then.”
“Where do you want to do it?” Grace asks, opening the box and pulling the machine out.
“Bathroom.”
Getting up, I grab the chair and walk down the hallway toward my room. I cross the short distance, ready to push the bathroom door open when my eyes fall on my nightstand, more precisely on my camera sitting on top of it.
I stop in my tracks and just stare at it as an idea starts shaping in my mind.
I haven’t been able to shoot ever since I did the surgery. The weight of the camera and the fact that I had to lift it all the way to my face didn’t go well with the mastectomy.
The e-mail I got the other day flashes in my head. Since everything went to hell, I didn’t get a chance to submit my photos yet. The deadline for the project for my photography class is in a few days, and although I’ve already decided I’d send the photos of the couple, I can’t stop thinking about this new idea.
It’s absurd. I shouldn’t even attempt it. Hell, I never did anything like it, but… I clench and unclench my fingers, feeling that familiar itch to grab the camera and shoot.
Maybe, just maybe…
If I’m losing so much, maybe I should try and gain something out of it.
Slowly, I move to the camera, my fingers tracing the metal before I pick it up, letting the idea grow in my mind. The poses. The light. The angles.
“Jade?” A hand touches my shoulder. “Did you change your mind? There is no sha—”
“No, I’m doing this.” I turn around, my hands clasped around the camera. “But I have to do this alone.”
“What?” Penny pulls her brows together as she moves closer, following the sound of my voice. “You don’t have to do this alone. We—”
“It’s okay, Penny.” Grace looks from my camera to me, understanding written all over her face. “We’ll be in the living room in case she needs us. Is that okay?”
“We will?” Penny asks, clearly skeptical about it.
“I have to do this on my own.” Closing the distance between us, I pull her into a hug and then do the same with Grace.
“Just holler if you need anything.”
I nod, although I know there is no way I’ll call them.
I have to do this on my own terms.
And this is how I’m going to do it.
I shuffle around my room until I find my tripod. Grabbing it and my camera, I go to the bathroom and set everything up.
I give the setup a critical look. I’ve never done a self-portrait before. I wasn’t one to stand in front of the camera. It was weird. Looking at my own face reflected back at me. I much preferred to take photos of others.
I tried a few different light settings and angles as I got everything ready before going back to the room. Taking off my sweater, I grab the scissors and hair clippers Grace left for me on the bed and bring them to the counter.
Letting out a shaky breath, I lift my head and face my reflection in the mirror. Grabbing the shutter button, I press on it.
Click.
With my free hand, I tug off the beanie.
Click.
