My Boyfriend Shaves Me
The hand holding the razor drew back. Martha’s forehead was a big expanse.
“How’d you even find out about this?”
“My mom works at the hospital. Volunteers, or whatever, cuz they don’t pay her. She knows who’s judging the contest.”
Martha’s boyfriend swiped fallen hair from her shoulders. It fell off like snow when a kid kicks a tree.
She wanted to ask if she looked pretty, but she waited a minute to see what he’d tell her without her prompting. Martha’s boyfriend put the razor next to the mirror on the table.
“You’re gonna win,” he said, his hands stopping on her a moment, grabbing her shoulders and squeezing them toward her neck. Martha looked down, noticing a lock of hair that had fallen in between her breasts.
“What am I going to wear?”
“I’ll pick it out for you. I know what they’re trying to see. You’ll look sexy enough. I’m getting a dress for you. I’ll get it from my mom.”
“You think your mom’s clothes are sexy?”
Martha’s boyfriend released her shoulders and shoved her flapping jaw away.
“Don’t joke about that. We’re making what we have work.”
“Can I see a mirror?”
He turned his back to give it to her.
In the unseen moment, she patted her fingers around the wreath of her scalp, feeling patches. Some spots were entirely bald. Martha looked in panic to her boyfriend, who was suddenly in front of her, sparing no more comforting words, but thrusting the mirror towards her handle-first.
“Matt, some of these spots are bleeding.”
“I’m not a hairstylist.”
Martha went quiet, leaving room for Matt to apologize.
“Does it hurt?”
Martha took the mirror into her hands and set it face down on the floor. She stood up from the folding chair, the outline of her seat preserved as a silhouette against the sheddings of her head.
“When is the contest?”
“It’s tomorrow. I’m getting the dress tonight.”
“You’re leaving now?”
“Listen, if you’re really hurt, go up to Johnny’s. He’ll give you some weed and bandaids. He has an XBOX.”
Matt hid his face from Martha as he tied his shoes.
“When are you coming back?”
Matt untied his left shoe, hoped Martha didn’t notice, and stayed on the ground to retie it.
“Soon enough, baby. I gotta find us a ride to the contest, too.”
“I’ll ask Johnny.”
Matt stood and Martha’s eyes followed him up there.
“Don’t ask Johnny. If he gets pissed at me, we got no more XBOX.”
“You look mauled! Raw,” Johnny exclaimed, nodding appreciatively, stepping aside to let Martha enter.
“I know. I’m scabbed now, but earlier we had live action.”
Martha remembered the warmth of the blood and tried to speak without breathing through her nose. Johnny spent long stretches of time under passionate spells, like Matt, and he’d been too engrossed in “Metal Gear Solid” lately to let the dog outside to piss.
He looked none the wiser to the offense to Martha’s nostrils. Johnny was proud to have guests. The weed was already on the table near the television. He cleared a spot for Martha on the couch, pushing aside empty packets of batteries and used napkins.
“Matt’s trying to get you all a place to stay, right? He told me if I helped, I could visit him for once, instead of the other way around.”
Martha included herself.
“We’re working on it together.”
“You don’t know where he is tonight, though?”
Johnny tried concealing it, but there was a note of hunger in his voice. Martha extended her leg slowly forward, preparing to shift her weight if she needed to lurch. Johnny stared obliquely at her leg.
“I think he’s going to his mom’s. She’ll have a hot dinner for him.”
“I got a blunt for you, Martha, that’s it.”
“I wasn’t asking for anything.”
Johnny shrugged, lit the blunt, didn’t pass it.
Matt was at Johnny’s the next morning to get Martha. He was borrowing his mother’s boyfriend’s truck, and he was clean and full and shiny. He honked the horn until Johnny and Martha were out of the house to see him this way.
Martha’s legs seemed to have lengthened over night. She was quickly at Matt’s side. Matt tilted his head at Johnny, who shrugged, smiled, and approached him to clap his back.
“Looking fresh, my boy. How far away is this thing?”
“It’s thirty minutes out from town. Best I get on the road soon.”
“How much is first prize? Maybe I should enter, too.”
Johnny pursed his lips, pantomimed shaving his own head.
Martha looked at Matt to see if he’d laugh.
“Martha, why don’t you climb in that car? Thanks for taking care of her last night.”
Matt opened Martha’s car door. She’d changed in the backseat, and her hoop skirt spilled over her feet when she stepped onto the sidewalk.
Matt led Martha through the hospital’s front lawn. Bald girls in wheelchairs wore princess dresses, or prom dresses. Bald girls duct-taped patterns or crocheted colored yarn to the handle of their crutches. Bald girls wore bikinis, and giant sun hats, and aviator eyeglasses. Bald girls in silk slips sat under shady trees, bald girls that loved vintage clothing wore matching two piece-sets of it, and tights without runs, and Mary Janes. Bald girls in groups of three started laughing. Bald girls in groups of four started sharing prescriptions, and huddled shoulder-to-shoulder, walling out other bald girls.
Bald girls in groups of five were together at the hand-painted sign announcing all in attendance a welcome to the “Chemotherapy Beauty Pageant.”
Ten gallons of hat were worn by the announcer, so it was hard to tell if they were either bald or a girl. They stood with a mic and amps on a stage by the sign, welcoming listeners.
“We have a beautiful affair in Odair today, simply beautiful. Thank you to the Garden Ladies Club for the tea party fundraisers. The amps get donated right back to you, and we hope they’ll improve Sunday bingo. For now though, I’m mighty grateful. I’m loud enough you could hear me without all these robots, believe me, but my throat’s already scratchy from smoking.”
The bald girls with lung cancer side-eyed the stage, then each other. One grabbed a slingshot and a lethal pebble knocked off the announcer’s hat. Martha noticed the lack of hair under it with satisfaction.
The announcer huffed, removed a square of tarp from their suit pocket, put it to their lips, and huffed again, this time directing the air, and the tarp expanded to an inflatable hat, this one eleven gallons.
“Lovely collection of entrants today, so I do encourage you all to mingle. After the winner is selected, we’ll have a mixer at the Odair Barn, refreshments from the Odair farm, thank you very much. In five minutes, I’ll be back to introduce your humble judges.”
The announcer bowed slightly, eleven gallons of hat wobbling in the tilted breeze.
Once the signal to look elsewhere had been given, the announcer began gracelessly wrestling with the remaining tarp squares in their suit pocket, which were eventually extracted and blown into a table and three chairs.
Martha was looking at the back of Matt’s head, where hair was still knotted. She turned towards vengeance, the bald girl with the slingshot, and considered asking for her turn with it.
Matt interrupted the idea, spinning towards Martha. He had a bouquet in his hands, which he pushed into hers.
“You’re going to look so pretty tonight, when you win. I want you to take these up there, so the judges already see you as a winner.”
Martha was wearing Matt’s mother’s pirate Halloween costume from fourteen years ago, sans eye patch. The flowers made her seem like a sailor who had returned to a loving home.
Momentarily, she forgave Matt, without sharing news of this with him.
The announcer helped seat the third judge, and flew back to the mic.
“Good evening, folks, good evening. It’s my pleasure to introduce to you the president of the Garden Ladies Club, Shirley Shine.”
There was light applause.
“Joining her tonight is the jewel of Odair Hospital, Dr. Reba Browning.”
Polite clapping continued with a hoot from Missus Browning, Dr. Reba’s wife.
“It’s my honor to bring you our final knockout, and Odair City Council representative, Leta Fares.”
Matt clapped the loudest, like he believed Leta, as a council representative, had the power to expunge his criminal record.
Martha assumed this is why Matt was cheering, anyway, refusing to look at Leta or her thick, black hair.
“Can we have our pre-registered entrants step onto the stage?”
Martha checked with Matt, who nodded her forward. Five other bald girls extracted themselves from their previous company, and the six of them stepped to the announcer together.
“I’ve got your names here… can I have Angie step forward?”
A bald girl wearing massive, drapey sleeves approached.
“Angie, if you will, can you share your diagnosis and how long you’ve been treating it with chemotherapy? Oh, and tell us about your outfit today.”
The announcer fluttered a waving hand, gesturing from the top of Angie’s head to her feet, mouthing hidden compliments to the audience as Angie began to speak.
“Dr. Browning can’t tell if it’s colon or rectal. I’m wearing a dress from the sixties. Think I’ve gotten chemo since around that time.”
Martha noticed Angie looked ten years older than she had before getting onstage.
Four other bald girls spoke, and then Martha was called. The announcer, figuring they needn’t repeat the question, grinned dumbly at her until she moved to speak.
“Dr. Browning doesn’t diagnose the cancer to me. I think she tells my boyfriend what’s wrong and then he tells me.”
Matt looked horrified, and surprised to be mentioned. Dr. Browning looked inquisitively at Leta, who’d been smiling like there was press and now seemed uneasy, then searched the face of Shirley, whose arms were crossed in a suspicious rejection of Martha’s answer. Martha breathed deeply into her bouquet to calm herself.
“I’m a swashbuckler.”
Just like he’d told her to, Martha stumbled after saying the words, a show of weakness delivered on Matt’s cue.
“Can we get her some water?” Matt shouted from the audience.
The announcer had a bottle in their suit pocket, patted Martha’s shoulder, and passed it to her.
“We’ve only got six pre-registered entrants today, but I think I see some stars in the audience. Unregistered participants, can we get the first group of ten onstage? Introduce yourselves, since I don’t know your names yet… and let’s keep it at names, yeah? Your outfits will do the rest of the talking, right?”
The announcer beamed at the first bald girl to move towards the stage, pointing to her brassiere.
“Worth a thousand… words!”
The bald girl with the slingshot was in the next group. From where they were already lined up near the stage, she pebbled the announcer’s second hat, which popped and draped itself over the head like a religious covering.
Disgruntled now, the announcer rushed through the remains of the proceedings. Three more groups were bussed on stage, some bald girls relishing in their spotlight with curtsies and twirling, and the judges were left no time to whisper amongst each other.
The announcer, stabilized, began their closing address. Dr. Browning penciled something on the scorecard in front of her, then passed it to Shirley, who read it and passed it to Leta.
“Our judges are tallying their final scores now, so I’ll remind you of the prizes. First prize will receive a donation of $5,000 dollars, intended to help cover your chemotherapy related costs. We got nothing for ya if you aren’t first, save for the refreshments at the mixer, which will cheer you up more than you’re expecting. Can I hear a round of applause for the Odair Provisions Court?”
There was a sound like a faraway whistle.
“How about for our judges, how about for our participants?”
Bald girls slapped palms together for each other. Martha clapped this time. Matt clapped, too, but was looking towards the car.
“Remember, girls, you’re all pretty,” the announcer said, suddenly solemn.
Leta reached the scorecard towards the microphone. The announcer tugged at their shirt collar, then took the card, and cleared their throat.
“This year’s winner of the Odair County Chemotherapy Beauty Pageant is none other than one of our unregistered participants, the lascivious Letizia!”
The bald girl with a slingshot stepped forward in her red jumpsuit. Martha realized Letizia was wearing latex as it squeaked with her movement.
Shirley Shine rushed forward to present the oversized check. Leta followed her upstage, crossing in front of the judge’s table where her full outfit could be seen. Dr. Browning stayed seated, looking at Matt.
“Check out the power in that stride, folks! Letizia, what do you want to say to those that think girls on chemo are weaklings?”
Letizia stepped on stage, slingshot at her side.
“Words won’t be wasted on them.”
She raised her slingshot, lowered it, and, thinking twice, raised it again and aimed towards the check. Before Shirley Shine could scream, the pebble had bounced off the cardboard, and was rolling downstage.
“Always a fighter, Odair, it’s your very own Letizia!”
Letizia’s friends had decided to show up to protest the event, and weren’t clapping, but Martha noticed many of the bald girls next to her clapping slowly, with volume and respect.
“I’m heading out of here. Let’s go.”
Matt was in her ear with his stupid pun, interrupting the growing applause.
“I’m giving the bouquet to Letizia.”
Martha was steady and still on her feet.
Dr. Browning was up on hers, too, and Matt saw her walking off the stage, then in his direction.
He caught Martha by the elbow, trying to hook her whole arm.
“You shouldn’t have said anything about me onstage.”
Martha’s arm, still in his mother’s costume, didn’t look like her own. She stared at it til she recognized it.