Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
“We need to talk about Maribel’s treatments,” Mason said, setting his car keys on the dark granite counter.
Evelyn did not stop stacking. “I told you, she has pre-wedding nerves, Mason, and we have enough on our plates without inventing crises.” She tapped her fingers against her leather purse strap which hung on the back of the wooden chair.
“She is not nervous, Evelyn,” I said, stepping closer to the counter. “The clinic confirmed she called them, and her oncology treatment is failing.”
Evelyn’s hands went still on a salad plate. “She told you that?”
“She did,” Mason said. “She cancelled her individual portrait with Mr. Vance because she does not want us to remember her this way.”
“Well, this is exactly what I was trying to avoid,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a sharp whisper as she finally set the plate down. “You have pushed her and pushed her until she is completely stressed out about these photographs.”
“She is losing her hair, Evelyn,” I said. “She is not stressed about the camera, she is trying to face the end of her life.”
