by Axel Trolliet
“Ready?” I asked her.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Before turning the hair clipper on, I held back a waterfall of tears. I took a few seconds to admire her through the bathroom mirror of our tiny flat we moved in to live together a year ago, she was sitting on a wooden chair. She was so sweet, so strong. She was wearing one of those oversized American college sweaters and a relaxed baggy. She had beautiful natural hair, brown with bright reflections, the whole cut in a plunging square.
Before turning it on, I said “You don’t know how lovely you are.”
“You listen to Coldplay too much, come on go ahead, by the way Jim, go get the speaker in the kitchen so that I can put MY OWN PLAYLIST please” she funnily replied.
“Sir, yes sir!” and I went to get it.
Gemma always had the habit of making jokes when we should not. She also made fun of me a lot. I believe that’s what made me fall in love with her, her sense of humor. I met her in a perfectly not original way: in a bar four years ago. We were both twenty-one years old when we met. I was still at university but had a part time job in a gas station, and she was working in a nursery. Gemma loved working with children, she had always dreamt to have three or four kids.
“Okay, once again, ready?” I said with a tight throat.
“Jim, how many more times are you going to ask me?”
“Okay, okay, so… let’s turn it on” I replied, as if pressing a switch button was a hard work.
“Jim, relax, here’s some relaxing music for you, go ahead” she said while looking for songs on her phone.
A few months after moving in together, Gemma often had chest pains and was tired. One day, I brought her to the hospital to do a check because it wasn’t normal. Her two grandmothers had died of cancer when she was a child. As a big hypochondriac, I had always been scared that the person I loved the most might have this in her genetics.
“Not that hard, you see? No need to be a hairdresser for that” she said while I started shaving the back of her head.
“Maybe we should have given it a little cut with scissors before, that’s long too long I’m struggling a bit.”
“Always grumbling! Now that you’ve started let’s end this up quickly!”
“Okay I’ll do my best…” I replied being focused on my temporary status as hairdresser.
A few days after the medical check, Gemma was summoned at the hospital. I was waiting behind the door during her appointment. When she got out the room, she came to me and hugged me with all her strength. She was crying. Gemma announced me that the doctors had diagnosed she had breast cancer. Besides being the funniest girl in the world, she was someone over positive. After hugging me, she looked at me in the eyes and said “We’ll get through this, there’s no way I’m abandoning you, I love you Jim”.
“Look at this! I look like a punk girl” she laughed after I had cut the sides.
“Gemma, I cannot laugh at that come on!”
“Come on Jim, it’s funny look!” she said while imitating a punk crest.
Forced laughter
“Jim, it’s okay, remember, we’ll get through all this together. I’ll look like a little white egg but that’s a step to fight all that” she said while smiling at me with her little pretty eyes.
“You’re so beautiful even with your “punk crest” my little Gemma” I said to her after giving her a kiss on the cheek.
The days after that announcement were really hard, I couldn’t stop thinking about why. She was so young, we had so many life plans. I just could not imagine life without her. I could not care about anything else than Gemma. I was very careful with her, whenever she needed anything, I did everything for her, she was so tired.
“Okay Gemma, would you be so kind as to stop playing with your hair so that I can finish that?” I kindly asked.
“Yeah sorry” She answered with a little funny voice.
“Okay let’s get rid of that punk crest now.”
A few days later, Gemma had a new appointment at the hospital for more checks and a start of treatment. The doctors found out that a breast removal wasn’t enough, the disease had already spread a bit. Gemma had to start a chemotherapy. The doctors were quite hopeful about her case as she was young and in good shape.
“Gosh I’m awful! I didn’t wanna wear a wig, but I definitely will!”
“What are you saying? Gemma, you’re so beautiful! With or without your hair it doesn’t change anything for me, your friends and your family, you know it” I said to her.
“Yeah… at least I’ll save time in the mornings, no need to straighten anything now! Oh, it’s funny to touch, I didn’t know my skull was of this form.” She jokingly said.
A few weeks ago, Gemma started her first chemotherapy treatment. I brought her each two weeks to the hospital. With that treatment, she had lost a few kilos and seemed physically more fragile. However, her good mood and her humor did absolutely not go away. Sometimes, I even wondered who was ill between us two. She seemed less affected than me, at least that’s what she was showing. On my part, I tried not to show her how depressed I was, but it was hard. Finally, I gave myself the answer that it was our fight to both.
“I’m over Gemma” I said while finishing to cut her hair.
“Thanks Mr. Hairdresser, the cut suits me!” She said jokingly.
“You’re so pretty, I love you” I said and thought.
“Sorry?! I look like my father without a hair on the stone but thank you Jim, love you too” She laughed.
“Gemma, shake out your clothes and go get some rest, I’ll take care of cleaning the bathroom”.
“I don’t think so Jim, go get the hoover and give it to me hurry up” she said.
At this moment, Gemma did not get up from the chair on which she was sitting while I was cutting her hair yet. I had one single thought in my mind, it required guts. I had in front of me the person I loved; so strong and so exemplary. I had to do it. I took the hair clipper back, I turned it on, and I ran it through my hair too.
“Jim?!” she said, I didn’t answer. I just kept going.
Gemma had her hands on her eyes, she was shocked and cried. She got up and hugged me.
“You’re the best Jim” she said to me while crying.
“I guess we’re a pair of two little white eggs now” I answered while laughing and crying at the same time.