H E A T H

On Saturday, after a long week of lectures, practical classes and an insane amount of assignments, I sat at my desk with a cold coffee, watching the moon light up the night while I continued to slave over medicine studies. Sometimes it required a self directed pep talk to ensure that I remembered how worth it would be when I graduate.

Of course, then there's the internships and residencies and I'm almost certain that a doctor never stops learning or dedicating himself to his work. So there's that. But once again, worth it. One day, I'll save lives and I can't imagine that there would be much else more rewarding than that.

But then I remembered the one life that I couldn't save. The one life that I wanted to save more than anything. So I stood up and went in search of Sarah to ask if she wanted something to eat. It was almost eight, Mom was at work and my little sister had been curled up on the couch watching Netflix for a concerning length of time.

But when I wandered out into the living room, she was no where to be seen. The kitchen was vacant and so was her bedroom. So I tapped on the bathroom door which was closed and became increasingly worried when no response came.

"Sarah?" I tapped again and put emphasis on the worry in my voice so that she wouldn't mess me around if she heard me.

If she was just a typical teenager that was prone to tantrums, I would leave her to it. But that wasn't the case and I'd found her face down, unconscious, one too many times before. So I twisted the handle and barged on in. There was no lock due to the fact that it was dangerous in case she did end up having a seizure or passing out. We just respected knocking around here. Unless of course there were suspicions for well-being.

Sarah was curled up beside the bathroom vanity, tears ran down her pale cheeks, clumps of her hair were clutched in her fists. It broke my heart. I couldn't even be upset for a moment that she'd ignored me. Seeing her with her knees to her chest, which racked with silent sobs, it was devastating.

"It's happening again," she cried, the sort of cries that stole her breath.

Last time she'd undergone chemo, she'd refused to shave her head. It looked awful and patchy but she couldn't go through with it. It had grown back in time but the same thing was happening again and this time, it was worse.

I sat down beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and let her lean on me as she cried. I couldn't cry with her. I never cried because it made her more upset. So despite the fact that my heart was hurting and my nose stung, I held it in and let her lean on me for strength.

"Do you want me to shave my head as well?" I questioned with sincerity after about ten minutes. There was no hesitation from me. I would do that for her, if she needed it. "I will."

She leaned back with horror on her blotched cheeks. "No," she sniffed and tried to hide a little grin. "You'd look so terrible with no hair."

"Nice," I rolled my eyes and gave her a light jab in the shoulder. A very light jab. She was more frail than ever these days.

Her lip began to quiver again as she glanced over at the bottom drawer of the vanity where the clippers were kept. "We can't afford a wig," she whispered, her tongue flicked out as a tear rolled over her lip.

"I'll buy one for you."

"They're expensive, Heath."

"I will buy one for you."

I wasn't sure how I was going to do that. But I would. If that made her feel better, I'd scrape together every last bit of cash I could find.

She inhaled a deep breath. She exhaled it with a ragged breath and then she nodded as she swiped at her wet cheeks. "Let's do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "The hair around the house is driving Mom insane. I can tell."

We both laughed. Of course it was. But Mom would never admit that out loud. Even I had found too much hair in the kitchen for it to be considered sanitary. But I kept hush as well. She was suffering enough. It didn't seem kind to berate her over the fact that her hair was falling out as well.

She sat on the little stool beside the curtained shower and I wrapped a towel around her shoulders. The bathroom was eerily quiet while I went about plugging the clippers in and brushing it clean in case I had left behind any stubble after shaving. Which was all it was usually used for.

The bright orange flowers on green climbing vines that were painted onto the white walls did little to lift the mood. Sarah's shoulders were slumped and she hadn't been this defeated for a long time. Perhaps ever. She was battling a losing fight, her friends never came to see her, she was unwell all the time. But out of all of those things, losing her hair was the hardest part.

In a way, it made sense. Losing her hair was symbolic. For me at least. It's a physical reminder that she's sick. Tomorrow isn't promised. It's more powerful than I imagined it would be.

I hold the back of her head, line the clippers up and ask if she's ready.

"I'm not but I never will be. Just do it."

So I did. And listening to her muffled sobs was unbearable. Each handful of hair that landed on the floor was loud, a deafening and heartbreaking reminder of what this meant. But as hard as it was, I refused to let a tear fall. This wasn't about me. It was about her.

Blonde strands of dull hair surrounded the stool after I was done. She stared at it for a while before she exhaled and stood up. She was still sniffling as she dropped the towel and touched a hand to her head, her lips parting with marvel. She moved over so that she was in front of the mirror and did a strange laugh-sob that was strangulated and amused at the same time.

"I have an egg shaped head."

"You do not!"

I stood beside her in the mirror and placed a hand on her head, giving it a gentle rub while she frowned at her reflection. "Reminds me of when you were two and we first met," I said. "You were a bald kid."

"Heath," she elbowed me in the side.

I grinned and gave her a light push towards the door. "Go and put something on Netflix. I'll clean up in here and then we can watch a movie?"

When she was gone, the door sat ajar and I listened to the sound of her settling into the sofa, the television coming to life and the sound of her camera shutter. She was no doubt taking a photo to send to Mom. Which was great. It meant that she was okay. Which meant that I could take a minute to let out the tears that I had been holding in. I swept up her hair, throwing it straight into the bin as I felt my eyes water and my nose burn.

I hated breaking down in front of Sarah. She hated it. But sometimes, when I was alone, I took a moment to let it out because otherwise it would fester and consume me and that made it all so much worse. So I cried for five minutes. I cried while I cleaned and then I pulled myself back together and made sure that my reflection didn't resemble someone who had just had a break down before I left the bathroom.

"I don't know that you should be watching this," I winced as Colin Firth violently murderered a church full of people on the screen in our living room. "It's a bit graphic. Did he just axe someone in the head?"

Sarah laughed. "It's not real, Heath. It's all special effects. What do you think happens after cut is called. Everyone stands up and laughs. They probably throw fake blood at each other. I just remember how fake it is when it gets gross."

I tilted my head from side to side. "That's a good point I suppose."

"And I'm fifteen," she glared. "Not five."

The doorbell rang. "Sheesh, alright," I stood up. "Expecting someone?"

"Mhmm," she mumbled with disinterest. "Just one of my many admirers. I have so many people lining up to spend time with me."

I sighed at her sarcasm but noticed that she pulled her beanie on as I rounded the couch and went for the door.

"Leonie," I stared in surprise. She stood on the doorstep wearing a pair of black jeans rolled above the ankles, vans on her feet and a cropped hoodie that exposed her midriff. Her make up was done and her long dark hair fell in soft waves. She looked as if she'd been out and about.

"Hey," she grinned and adjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder. A backpack. "Can I come in?"

"Oh. Yeah. Of course," I stepped aside and caught the scent of her fruity perfume as she wandered on through.

Her gaze moved around the room. "Cute place," she smiled and I had a flashback to her apartment. Her sights settled on the television and she scuffled around the couch. "Kingsman, The Secret Service. I love this movie."

She sat down and I looked at Sarah from behind the couch with confusion. She smiled and shrugged. "So, what's up?" I asked as I came around and sat beside her.

"Oh!" She almost bounced in her seat. "I was at Jade's with the crew and I was hoping that you would be there because I had something for Sarah that I wanted to give you. But she said that you weren't coming so I asked Jade for your address and here I am."

Sarah sat up a little straighter in the armchair that she was draped across. "Something for me?"

Leonie nodded and leaned down to unzip her backpack. She produced a FedEx box. The seal was broken but the lid was closed. The box was about half the size of a shoebox and she outstretched her arm so that Sarah could take it.

"What is it?"

"Open it!"

Sarah looked cautious but curious as she lifted the lid and pulled out a velvet bag. Inside the velvet bag was. . . hair.

It was packaged carefully with a logo and brand across the front of it in a fancy italic font.

"A wig," Sarah almost whispered. She looked floored. As if she couldn't process what was happening. "These are. . . like super expensive. I was looking at them online."

Leonie blushed and waved a dismissive hand. "I couldn't resist. It's blonde. I didn't know what colour your hair was before but you look like a blonde. A good blonde though."

It was a bit darker than her natural colour but it did look like a good match. Sarah looked as if she was going to burst into tears. She stood up, letting the the box on her lap drop to the floor before she ran out of the room. The bathroom door closed a moment later.

"She's probably really appreciative," I told Leonie after we sat in silence for a birthed pause. "She's not one for public displays of emotion."

"Your sister and I have that in common," she nodded and twisted so that she was facing me more. "With the exception of too much alcohol."

"Thank you," I said, finally shaking off the shock of her gesture. It was unreal. She had met Sarah twice. "Genuinely. You've made more difference than you probably realise. We just shaved her head a few hours ago and it was. . . emotional."

"Really?" She recoiled. "I thought she was already bald!"

"Oh, no. She had hair. It was just thin and sort of dead. She wears her beanie all the time."

"That's outrageous. This is Miami. Not Minnesota."

I shrugged. It was true though. The weather was hardly beanie appropriate. But I wasn't going to tell Sarah that.

"But truly," I said again and sat forward, leaning my elbows on my knees. "Thank you. Sarah puts on a brave front but I know that this will make a huge difference to her confidence."

"It was nothing," she smiled.

"It was definitely not nothing," I assured her. I glanced up and caught her looking at the tattoo that was peeping out from under my t shirt sleeve, which had pulled up when I leaned forward.

"I didn't notice that before," she pointed at it.

I lifted my shirt sleeve to reveal the band that wrapped right around my bicep. It was a band made up of little infinite symbols. The word above it said 'Family."

"Family forever," she grinned, catching on to its meaning. "That's cute. How long have you had that for?"

"I got it as soon as I turned eighteen," I said, peering down at the ink which was dark. "Mom wouldn't let me get one until then."

"I like it," she said, her hand reached out and her thumb grazed over the surface of my skin. It was warm, sending a buzz straight through me. I swallowed and met her ice blue gaze. Ice was the right colour. But it wasn't the right feeling. It had so much fire behind it.

The bathroom door opened and it wasn't more than a beat before Sarah appeared in the living room again, causing Leonie and I to snap out of our focus on one another. We turned to Sarah who was running her hands through the long blonde strands of hair.

"Wow," Leonie clapped her hands together and we both stood up.

The wig looked great, if you didn't know, you would never think that it wasn't her real hair. She flipped it over her shoulder and did a little twirl as though she was on a runway. It reminded me of when she was a little girl and she made Mom and I sit down and act as her audience while she modeled her tutus and dresses.

"You look beautiful," I smiled from behind Leonie who nodded in agreement.

Sarah skipped straight for her and pulled Leonie into a tight hug. "Thank you," she smiled, her eyes closed tight. Leonie hugged her back and I sat down on the sofa again, feeling a furious eruption of flutters in my stomach. What she did was so selfless. So generous. It almost made me breathless.

"You can get that cut and shaped to your face at the hairdresser," Leonie informed Sarah as we all took our seats again. Sarah couldn't stop twirling the hair around her finger. "I can take you to my salon if you want. My treat."

"Aw no," Sarah blushed and shook her head. "You've done too much already."

"What's too much?" Leonie arched a brow. "Where is the bar set? There is no bar. I'll take you to the salon. Just let me know when you're free."

Sarah nodded and I'd never seen her so lost for words. Usually she had a neverending supply of response and wit. But she was definitely having some sort of moment. And rightfully so. No one had ever shown her so much kindness before. Especially not someone she barely knew.

"So," Leonie settled into the sofa beside me, her legs brushed mine and if I wasn't mistaken, it felt like she was getting closer. "Have you guys seen the sequel to this?"

She stayed all night. We watched the sequel to the movie. Kingsman, The Golden Circle. Weirdest movies that I've ever seen. But the girls liked them. Leonie said that she had a huge crush on the lead male. She said that she couldn't help it. She had a thing for bad boys. Which, sort of immediately crushed me because there was no chance that I was one of those. I shouldn't have cared. But whatever.

We woke up in the morning, spooning on the sofa. We seemed to be making a habit out of that. At one point I wanted to offer her my bed but I didn't want to come across as suggestive and I also didn't want to leave her on the couch because truth be told, cuddling her was sort of nice.

She was quick to disappear though. She told me that she had a Sunday ritual. It included fries, bed and trashy television shows. I couldn't convince her to hang around for breakfast but she did promise that I would see her again soon.

After she was gone, I checked on Sarah who had disappeared to her bed during the night. I could see her bald head peeking out of the covers, her wig was laid carefully across her desk which was also scattered with old trinkets, photos and trophies from her school sports when she was a kid. There were boxes with various labels on them.

'Trash'

'Mom'

'Heath'

'Donate'

The boxes weren't full. But there were a couple of things in each. It made my stomach turn to look at them. She was preparing and making it easier for Mom to clear out her room when she was gone.

At around midday, Mom came out into the kitchen, fresh, showered and in search of a coffee. She and Sarah spent time together on Sunday's. There was no work and although I knew that Mom struggled with the thought of losing Sarah, it made me glad to know that she spent quality time with her.

I was leaned over the countertop, half way through a ham and salad roll while I went through emails when Mom cleared her throat. "You seem quite close with that girl," she raised a brow with a small smile when I glanced up at her. "For someone who's just a friend."

"I'm guessing you saw us sleeping on the sofa?"

She nodded, her focus on the half teaspoon of sugar that she was stirring into her cup.

"There's nothing going on, Mom," I took a bite of my roll and shrugged. "She's not into relationships."

Her reaction was a mere flinch. Not all that obvious. But I knew the conclusion that she'd come to before she spoke. "Be sure to use protection."

"Mom," I threw my arms open. "Again, it's not like that. There's nothing going on. At all."

"Fine," she raised her hands in surrender.

"And if there was, of course I would be safe."

"Good."

"But there's nothing going on."

"You said that."

"Yes and I meant it."

Never mind the fact that I was becoming more and more enamoured with the idea of something happening between Leonie and I. She was captivating. She took my breath, thoughts and all sense of reason away. Whenever her skin touched mine, it was as if I was being burned, because she was electric and I knew that I couldn't have her. But like a moth drawn to a flame, I wanted to go back for more. I wanted to kiss her. That was what I wanted and when I realised how much I wanted it, I felt as if I had been winded.