One evening, I noticed Letty had been in the bathroom for an unusually long time.
“Sweetheart?” I called.
No answer.
I knocked gently.
“Can I come in?”
The door swung open immediately.
What I saw made me freeze.
Long blond hair covered the floor.
Huge clumps of it.
For a moment I thought something terrible had happened.
Then I looked up.
Letty stood in front of the mirror.
Her beautiful waist-length hair was gone.
Now it barely touched her shoulders.
The cut was uneven.
Jagged.
Clearly done with kitchen scissors.
Her hands were trembling.
“Letty…” I whispered. “What happened?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“There’s a girl in my class named Millie.”
I stayed silent.
“She has cancer.”
My heart tightened.
“Today she came back after treatment.”
Letty swallowed hard.
“She doesn’t have any hair anymore.”
Her voice cracked.
“The boys started laughing.”
I felt sick.
“Millie ran into the bathroom and cried.”
She held out a bundle of hair tied carefully with a ribbon.
“I read online that people can make wigs from real hair.”
I stared at the ribbon.
“I know this isn’t enough by itself,” she continued. “But maybe it can help.”
For a moment I couldn’t speak.
All I could think about was her father.
About everything she had watched him endure.
About how easily she could have looked away.
Instead, she chose compassion.
I wrapped my arms around her.
She immediately burst into tears.
“Your dad would be so proud of you,” I whispered.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt him close to us.
