WORDS WITH MY DAUGHTER

Abstract

8 4 Y W O R D S W I T H M Y D A U G H T E R E L I Z A B E T H B . J O Y C E A N D K A Y L A A L L E N Mary Katherine Joyce 1 9 9 1 — 2 0 1 0 fierce fun kind Mary Katherine and I sat in a tiny, one-room studio in Paris. A corporate apartment, plain, functional, and utilitarian, completely at odds with my imagination of what a Paris apartment would look like, and so incongruous with the promise of its classic, baroque exterior. The Wig Lady stood before us, a kind, maternal woman from Belgium who made wigs for the movies. She told us she had a thirteen-year-old daughter. She then asked my daughter to take o√ her crocheted beret so she could examine her hair. ‘‘Now I will make a mold of your head for a wig,’’ she told her. ‘‘What about a weave?’’ I asked. She looked directly at Mary Katherine. ‘‘You can’t have a weave yet. Your hair is still falling out, and there has to be strong hair for the weave to attach to.’’ 8 5 R Mary Katherine didn’t say anything but her face became a mask betraying zero emotion. The Wig Lady then carefully cut a sample of Mary Katherine’s hair so she could match her color and gently, so as not to disturb any of her remaining hair, wrapped her head in cellophane. ‘‘I do it this way,’’ she said, ‘‘so the wig will fit snugly and convincingly.’’ Then she looked into Mary Katherine’s eyes and said, ‘‘Listen, you are going to have to accept losing your hair and wearing a wig, at least for a while.’’ She pointed to her left eye. ‘‘I lost this eye when I was a child. Now I wear a glass eye. It wasn’t easy, but I had to make peace with it. I am the child who actually got her eye poked out by the sharp pencil parents are always warning you about.’’ We didn’t laugh. I don’t think she meant to be funny. Mary Katherine shot me a look of warning. I twiddled with the ring on my index finger, a ring with a real glass eye set in it that I’d worn every day since my husband, Bill, gave it to me on my thirty-fifth birthday. I discreetly turned the ring around on my finger. The Wig Lady said, ‘‘So you see, I kind of know what you are struggling with.’’ Then she added, ‘‘By January, Mary Katherine, enough of your hair should have grown back to get a weave if you want.’’ ‘‘If I do get a wig, can I wear it all the time?’’ Mary Katherine managed to choke out. ‘‘You can,’’ the Wig Lady said. To this, Mary Katherine replied, ‘‘If I wear a wig, I never want to take it o√. I want to sleep in it and brush it and be able to wash it in the shower just like my real hair. I want it to be as long and thick as my real hair.’’ We had heard that wigs could only be a certain length and definitely not as long or thick as Mary Katherine ’s real hair. Still, I relaxed a little, realizing that Mary Katherine had been actually considering the reality of a wig. ‘‘Everything,’’ said the Wig Lady, ‘‘can be done.’’ A realization hit me. Before I couldn’t comprehend why my daughter was obsessing so much about wanting a weave rather than a wig. But with her simple question, I realized that Mary Katherine’s wig worries were not so much about what other people would think about her being bald but about how she would feel. 8 6 J O Y C E A N D L E S C U R E Y Baldness or a wig would be a constant reminder of her illness, and she just wanted to feel normal again. She had hoped a weave would seem more natural. Everyone...