Chương 7
“I’m sorry,” Ravi said.
Ethan nodded.
Ravi looked at Lena’s bare head, then at her face, and continued looking at her face. The effort was visible, which made Lena trust him more.
“They’re staying with my mom tonight,” he said. “She told them the grown-ups had created unnecessary drama.”
“That’s accurate,” Priya said.
“She also wants to know whether anyone needs lentils.”
For several minutes they discussed lentils.
The internet continued without them.
By nine, the first full-length video appeared. It had been recorded from the center aisle and included the wig being pulled away, the falling flowers, Ethan catching Lena, and every line of dialogue. A second clip showed Vivian entering the parish office afterward. There was no audio, but the caption claimed she had been “escorted away.”
Television commentators discussed privacy, family disclosure, wedding etiquette, and whether filming emergencies had become a social illness. A cancer advocacy organization posted that patients had the right to control their own medical information. A men’s lifestyle account posted a freeze-frame of Ethan standing between Lena and Vivian under the words THIS IS HOW A REAL MAN RESPONDS. Ethan stared at it with disgust.
“They made you into a poster,” Lena said.
“They made you into content.”
A woman Lena had not spoken to since college sent a message saying the bald look was powerful. One of Lena’s colleagues wrote, I’m here if you need anything, which could mean sympathy or curiosity or both. Her department chair left a voicemail telling her not to worry about Monday’s meeting.
The word cancer had not appeared in the original video. It appeared in the comments within fourteen minutes. By evening, someone had found an old fundraising page created by Priya during Lena’s first round of treatment. It included the diagnosis: stage II breast cancer, triple-negative, discovered eleven months earlier.
The page had been private.
Priya had shared it only through direct links.
“Someone from the wedding had it,” she said.
“Or someone I work with,” Lena replied.
“You told six people at work.”
“Six people becomes sixty the minute there’s a reason.”
Ethan sat on the floor with his back against the couch, his bow tie gone, Ravi’s short sweatpants exposing his ankles. His phone rang again.
This time he answered.
“Mother.”
Everyone in the room became still.
Vivian spoke for nearly a minute. Ethan listened without interruption.
“No,” he said at last. “You’re not coming here.”
Another pause.
“No.”
His voice changed on the third no. It became quieter.
“You don’t get to be comforted by us tonight.”
He ended the call and set the phone face down.
Lena looked at him. “What did she want?”
“To apologize.”
“To whom?”
“She said both of us.”
“But she called you.”
“Yes.”
Lena leaned back against the couch. Her body had begun to ache in the dull, familiar way that followed too much stress and too little food. The skin over her port felt hot, though when she touched it, it was normal.
“Did she say who authorized the statement?” Priya asked.
“She did.”
“Will she take it down?”
“She says removing it would make the foundation appear unstable.”
Ravi frowned. “The foundation is unstable.”
“It gives away forty million dollars a year,” Ethan said. “People confuse money with stability.”
At ten-thirty, Lena’s oncologist called.
Dr. Baines did not ask whether Lena was all right. She had known Lena long enough to avoid useless questions.
“Any injury to the scalp?” she asked.
“Three red spots. No bleeding.”
“Dizziness?”
“Earlier.”
“Fever?”
“No.”
“Chest pain?”
“No.”
“Do you have someone with you?”
“Several someones.”
“Good. Your labs on Friday were acceptable. Stress will not undo your treatment, despite what the internet may tell you by morning. Hydrate. Eat something with salt. Call if the port area becomes painful or warm.”
Lena looked toward Ethan. He was listening from the floor.
“Thank you.”
“And Lena?”
“Yes?”
“You are not required to educate anyone tonight.”
After the call, Lena went upstairs.
Priya had placed clean sheets on the guest bed. The wedding gown hung from the closet door inside its garment bag. The wig remained in the drawer.
Lena opened it.
The hair had flattened along one side. She lifted it by the cap and carried it to the bathroom. Under the bright light, she examined the damaged clips. Two could be replaced. One had torn a small section of netting.
She set it on the counter and looked at herself.
Without makeup, she appeared younger and more tired. Her brown eyes seemed too large for her face. A faint indentation crossed her forehead where the wig band had rested. The scalp above her ears was paler than the rest.
Ethan appeared in the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
“You’re already in.”
He remained at the threshold.
Lena touched the torn netting. “Fern can fix this.”
“Who’s Fern?”
“The woman who sold it to me.”
“Hair systems.”
Lena looked at him.
He remembered.
“She’ll be furious,” Lena said. “Not at the damage. At me for letting someone touch it.”
“You didn’t let her.”
“No.”
He stepped into the bathroom.
“I called the hotel,” he said. “They donated the dinner to two shelters and a night-shift meal program. It took four vans.”
“Daniel arranged that?”
“Yes.”
“He’s good at logistics.”
“He is.”
“Not at people.”
“No.”
She turned the wig over.
Ethan watched her hands. “Do you want me to throw it away?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to have it repaired?”
“No.”
“All right.”
She looked at him. “You don’t have to solve the wig.”
“I know.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “My face has had a bad day.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
His expression softened, then closed again as though he did not trust relief.
“I booked another room,” he said. “At a hotel under Daniel’s assistant’s name. I can leave.”
“Priya invited us both.”
“I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
“I don’t.”
May you like
“Do you want me here?”
Lena looked into the mirror rather than at him.
