“We’re going to run some more tests. The first blood sample came back contaminated with . . .” she flipped through pages on her clipboard and shook her head. “Well, there was an error. But right now we see no reason why she can’t go home later this afternoon while we review her lab results.”
“Home?” Lisabeth stood up so quickly the chair squeaked across the floor. “Are you fucking kidding me? Something is wrong here.”
“Liz,” Jon said, his tone quiet and comforting. “Come on, now—”
“Don’t,” Lisabeth said, turning to him, one finger up to shush him.
“Listen, Mrs. Kline, we genuinely see no reason to keep her here right now. We’re going to wrap up some tests, and we can likely discharge her later in the day. It could be a late-stage advancement of what might be vitiligo, if that’s what the birthmark on her face is. Late color loss and alopecia is a possibility. Or it could be exposure to some kind of chemical. We’ll figure this all out in the lab work, but right now, the best thing for her is a lot of rest.”
“Is there a mirror? Can one of you show me a mirror?” Leila asked, stretching. She looked around, and scowled. “Did Landon leave?”
“He just left, darling,” Lisabeth said, fishing in her purse and handing Leila a small compact mirror.
Leila flipped open the mirror. She gasped at her reflection. She was bald. At least, practically bald. Bits of hair still clung here and there, but they were just little wisps. The birthmark on her cheek seemed to have grown even more. It looked like it pushed up from her cheek and moved up along her scalp above her ear. Had it always been this big, just hidden under her hair?
“Fuck,” Leila said, snapping the mirror shut, tears welling up in her eyes. “What the hell is going on?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” the nurse said. “But like I said, head home. Get some rest. And drink lots of fluids. You were terribly dehydrated when you came in.”
“I was?” Leila asked, looking to Lisabeth, who nodded.
“That’s why you fainted, they think,” Liz said, shrugging. Something buzzed and Liz pulled her phone out of her pocket. A smile crept over her face. She looked up at Leila, warmly, and showed the phone to Jon, who smiled.
“You have really good friends, you know that?” He grinned.
“What is it?” Leila asked.
“Sarika. Asking for you.” Liz pointed at the table next to Leila’s hospital bed. “Your phone died while we were in here, and she’s been texting me for updates like every other hour.”
She texted something back, and the phone immediately buzzed. She looked back at it and sighed.
“Alright,” Liz said, nodding. “I guess let’s get you home. Sarika and Landon are planning to meet us at the house.”
Leila stretched and pushed her legs over the side of the bed, preparing to stand up, when she stopped and looked at the nurse, who stood there keeping a watchful eye on the whole scene.
“Question,” Leila said, as Liz handed her some clothes to replace the old ones from yesterday.
“Hm? What is it?” the nurse asked. Her warm, practiced smile returned.
“What was the weird thing that came up in the blood work?” Leila asked, nodding at the clipboard, her heart hammering in her chest. “What was so weird about it?”
The nurse let out a laugh and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s pretty bizarre. Have a look.” She flipped to a page towards the back, and handed the clipboard to Leila. Liz quickly walked around to the side of the bed to peer down at it.
“There,” the nurse pointed at the bottom of the sheet.
“Wow. Yeah, that is weird,” Liz said, shaking her head.
Leila’s heart beat madly as she stared at the word, written large in looping, sloppy handwriting, the sign of a doctor in a rush.
Chlorophyll.
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XXV
“I am not happy about any of this,” Leila said, staring at the selection on the kitchen table.
“Come on, try one,” Sarika said, nudging Leila playfully. “You might like it.”
“I’m going to throw up,” Leila sighed, “but okay.”
The wigs sat neatly in a row on the small kitchen table inside Jon and Lisabeth’s home. It looked like four little animals had broken into the kitchen, eaten their fill, and were now napping on the wooden surface, snuggled together in the sun that peeked through the window. One was black and curly, a small afro, and looked strikingly similar to the hair Leila had just a day ago. Two looked the way her hair did when it was straightened, long and thick, the hair pressed together tightly. And the last was a horrible-looking thing, full of different colors. Red and blonde streaks weaved in and out of each strand.
“I can guess who picked that one out,” Lisabeth said, crossing her arms.
“I thought it looked fun!” Jon exclaimed defensively.
Leila let out a soft laugh, and moved to pick up the natural, curly wig.
“Try one of the other ones, for me?” Sarika begged. “Who knows, Landon might like you with straight, pressed hair.” She winked.
“I’ll be lucky if he’s into me at all anymore,” Leila sighed, grabbing the curly wig. She pushed it down on her head. It was itchy against her now-bald head. She fussed with it, picked up a mirror sitting on the table, and looked at her reflection.
“You look great,” Sarika said, smiling.
“Sure,” Leila scoffed, and pulled out one of the kitchen seats. She sat down and laid her head on the table, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to come out.
“Hey,” Sarika said, rubbing her back. Other hands joined in, and Leila looked off to the side to spot Jon and Liz, their eyes full of worry. “Will it make you feel better if I said we were gonna save the park?”
Leila sat back up.
“Oh?” Leila asked, a smile on her face. “I was worried. We lost like, an entire day.”
“Well, that’s not quite what we told you, Sarika,” Jon said, pulling out a chair from the table. “This morning, while your moth—” he stopped, and shook his head. Leila’s heart hammered at the change of word, and she thought about speaking up. It had felt . . . okay. It felt right. She stopped herself from saying anything.
“While Liz was out with you at the hospital, Landon and I went down to the Academy of Natural Sciences to get some more information on the mouse remains and check up on his super-illegal, but still very cute, owl at the animal hospital.” Jon laughed softly. “And, you know, so I could apologize profusely and beg his forgiveness again.”
“And?” Leila asked, warmth returning to her.
“Well, it’s complicated. He’s at least forgiven me, though,” Jon said, nodding and looking up at Lisabeth. “They can’t really be sure the mouse is from the park. It’s far too, well, eaten. It’ll take too long to analyze the soil, and even that is contaminated because of the poison in the fur. Your best bet is to head back to the grove and try to catch one of the mice or find some droppings. But even then . . .”