Her hair began growing back slowly.
Soft.
Dark.
She hated mirrors.
One morning, she stood in the bathroom wearing a scarf.
I walked in.
She said.
“I don’t look like your wife anymore.”
I stood behind her.
“You look exactly like my wife.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“The woman you left had hair.”
“She weighed forty pounds more.”
“She smiled.”
I turned her toward me.
“The woman I left was my wife.”
“The woman standing here is my wife.”
“You don’t have to look the same to be the same person.”
She cried.
Then asked.
“Are you angry at me?”
I felt sick.
“For what?”
“For not telling you.”
I said.
“I’m angry that you were made to believe telling me was dangerous.”
“That’s different.”
PART 29
Slowly, Phedra told me everything.
After her diagnosis, Selina became kind for about two weeks.
She took her to appointments.
Cooked soup.
Promised everything would be fine.
Then the bills started.
Selina complained.
She said treatment would consume the money I was sending.
Godfrey said his business would employ the whole family one day.
So the shop came first.
Then Phedra became weaker.
She could not clean as quickly.
Selina accused her of laziness.
Godfrey complained she was depressing everyone.
Her bedroom was given to visiting relatives.
Then she was moved to a small room.
Then eventually the storage shed.
Food became punishment.
If she argued, less food.
If she dropped something, less food.
If she asked for money, less food.
I had to stop her several times.
Not because I did not want to hear.
Because my hands began shaking so badly.
PART 30
I asked.
“Why didn’t anyone outside help?”
Phedra looked ashamed.
“They didn’t know.”
“Neighbors?”
“Your mother told them I was staying with relatives for treatment.”
“Family?”
“She told them I was difficult.”
“Doctors?”
“I missed appointments.”
“How?”
“No ride.”
She looked down.
“Sometimes Godfrey would take the car keys and say he forgot.”
I closed my eyes.
Then she whispered.
“Sometimes I believed them.”
“Believed what?”
“That treatment was wasting money.”
“That maybe I was ruining everyone’s future.”
I moved closer.
“You were never the waste.”
She cried.
