Quick Preview and an Update

Greetings, folks. The novel is still in progress [63,000 words and climbing] and I wanted to give you a quick-hit to enjoy...

[[[ Chapter 14 - Journal Entry – Nancy Arrives ]]]

When my sister was 2 and I was 6, I asked my mom to shave my head so I could be like her. She got diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, Ewing’s Sarcoma, and she lost her hair to chemo so I shaved my head to be like Nancy.

The cancer was back when Mom was still seeing Dad and Nancy was the product of a conjugal visit. I’m not saying anything; I was a prison baby, too. We three were living with my grandparents while Mom went to school and paid for it by doing nights at a video store over in Sunland. She’s finishing her third year and then the doctor drops the atom bomb on us: bone cancer and she might lose her leg.

They all started acting weird, Mom and Grandma were crying and Grandpa was out in the back yard. Rather than let us see him cry, he was viciously attacking the lemon tree with an old pair of hedge clippers. I came to understand that something had gone wrong when Mom had to quit her job and we spent days in different offices filing paperwork so that she could get her daughter treatment for her cancer. When you’re poor and you’re on state assistance, getting any kind of medical is difficult and when it’s cancer it’s darn near impossible. Mom attacked the problem like anything else – she made it her full-time job. Paperwork, calling offices, sending letters and even threatening to call every TV station in LA – she made sure that they didn’t let Nancy down when it came to getting any kind of decent care.

Mom became rabid on the topic and it’s something I’ve never forgotten. Even when she’s cranky or rambling like a wino, I remember that look in her eye when she reached across a counter and grabbed an oncologist by his tie. I have no idea what she said to the man but it got him to switch out Nancy’s meds.

As Nancy’s treatment started and she was miserable, cranky and tired all the time – it really threw our house into a mess. Her little curls started falling out and she cried because it hurts to lose your hair. So one day, I asked Mom could I shave my head? She looked at me oddly – why did I want to do that? I just shrugged and said “I dunno…make Nancy feel less weird, I guess.” Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled me close. She kissed the top of my head and sent me to Grandpa.

I thought he might be upset himself – he’s been cutting my hair out on the back porch every month for several years – but for some reason he just smiled and said “Sure, sport.” He drew on the old bedsheet that was my barber apron for a long time and then took the guard off of his old Wahl clippers. In the warm evening air with the smell of lemon blossoms all around us, he shaved my little head back to a fuzzy cue ball. Mom and Grandma laughed and cried at the same time – I held Nancy up and we took a picture of both of us chrome-domes. Mom keeps the picture in a scrap book somewhere.

I’m just telling you this so that later on, when you ask why I’m freaking out because the Colony just turned into the Wild West, I can say “I love my little sister” and you’ll know what I’m talking about. I guess I love her. As much as anyone can…Nancy can be kind of a pain.