Page 16 of Chelsea’s Knight

I have no mohawk down the middle of my head with shaved sides, which was the plan.

Instead, I look like a fuzzy, newborn chicken since Gia could only get so close to my scalp with the jagged edge clippers she found in one of the communal bathroom drawers. She couldn’t find Trident’s and ended up having to use this set that should’ve been retired a few missing teeth ago.

This seems to be the way the cookie in my life always crumbles, it’s pathetic, just like my new hairdo.

There’s no way in hell Canyon’s going to be interested in me now. I look like one of those hairless sphynx cats who have a patch of fur randomly placed on them.

“Well, guess I’m going to stand out in a crowd now,” I sniffle as I stare back at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Dejectedly, I strip out of my clothes then step into the shower once the water is warm enough for me.

“No one will miss me coming and I’ll be the talk of the town. I hate being in the spotlight, it’s why I always stick to the shadows. There’ll be no way I can stay incognito now.”

Huffing and puffing, I reach up and dry my face with the palm of my hands.

No use in crying over spilled milk.

It’s time to put on my game face, but when I try, it falls. At least I’m alive and here to cry over this. Hair grows back, and I should be thankful that I’m here with people who love me.

“Silver lining, Chels,” I snark to myself, shaking my head to rid it of all of the negative thoughts that’ve been swirling around in my mind. “Look at it this way, chica, you’re gonna save a shit ton of money on shampoo and conditioner.”

I briefly wonder if I should use a straightedge razor to get rid of the leftover fuzz around my scalp, then change my mind and decide I’m not in the right mental space to go near my own head with a sharp razor designed to cut fine hair. Instead, I change course and focus on exfoliating my whole body then shaving the bits of patches that need defuzzing.

I'll use lotion and moisturize once I’m done bathing to give my skin a shiny glow.

“Should I do my head too?” I ask myself out loud. “Maybe I could ask Canyon for his opinion once I find something to cover my head up, that is.”

Getting redressed, I straighten my bedroom back to its spotlessness then create a to-do list like the occupational therapist recommended. The suggestion seems to help me out as far as with the subtleties and remembering things.

I’m grateful my memories are returning now, even if they’re slowly resurfacing and taking their time in doing so, but sometimes, especially with the new medication the doctors have put me on, I’ll forget something monumental I’m supposed to do or take care of.

The list keeps me organized and since it’s a familiar activity for me, it's one I don’t mind incorporating into my daily routine.

Canyon

“So, all of the businesses are seeing a massive and lucrative profit,” Orion drones on. “This means we’ll all see a nice bump in our checks at the end of this month, once the additional taxes, health care, and 401 K are figured in, and the other additional shit Uncle Sam claims for himself, we’ll still be riding on easy street.”

“Hate that the man who wears an American flag for a top hat gets more of our money in his already cushy accounts, y’know?” Loki grumbles. “We’re the assholes working for it through our blood, sweat, and tears, we should be able to keep the majority of our profits in our own damn pockets.”

“This is true, however, we all get a military pension each month with decent insurance, and wedon’tpay taxes on that shit, so in the long run, it’s a nice trade-off,” Poseidon states, always playing the part of the peacemaker.

“We fucking earned those pensions, brother,” Atlas growls out. His tone sounds a little off, argumentative, and I see his service dog stiffen at Atlas’ feet and go on instant alert. Instead of continuing, he takes a deep breath and blows it out before leaning down, scratching the dog’s ears, and saying a command in German to Koba. I don’t know the German language, but if I were to make a guess, I’d say he’s reassuring Koba that he's okay and there won’t be any wars breaking out today.

“Pres, have you heard any word from Nick yet?” I question in an effort to change the subject so hopefully my brother will settle. We all deal with the aftermath of our military tenure, but honestly, Atlas seems to have suffered far more than the rest of us. Out of all of us, if anyone deserves to have found their slice of peace, it’s Atlas.

“Actually, I did. He’s got a few dogs he thinks are compatible and will work. He’s got someone in mind that he knows personally who trains dogs explicitly to detect seizures before they hit. Because, as Nick helpfully informed me, there are different types and levels of epilepsy or some shit. They’re willing to work and train the dog to cater to your specific needs. Thing is, you’d have to be gone for about a month while doing so, give or take.”

My mind goes to all of the things that need to happen before we can hit the road to find the right companion for Chelsea.

I glance at Loki and ask, “Since I know you’re gonna want to take a week or so off when CeeCee finally has the baby, do you want me to wait to go until you’re back? I don’t mind pushing this off until later because she’s lived without a dog all this time and has survived fine. I just thought it would be something that would help enhance her life and make her feel more independent.”

“Brother, I’d appreciate the fuck out of you doing that for me. I think that between both you, and Kaya y’all can definitely cover customer appointments and other shit with the running of the shop while I’m out of commission. And while I have some new customers already pre-booked, I put them in the schedule for a month or so out instead of for the upcoming next two weeks. I mean, fuck, she’s either going to have the biggest baby in the history books or it’s all cake. At this point, it’s anyone’s guess.”

Laughter rolls through the room because CeeCee has become obsessed with cake to the point that every dinner has at least one, but more often than not, two different confections lined up on the bar for dessert.

“Hopefully, you haven’t voiced that particular observation out loud,” Trident teases once the room quietens. “Because that’s the best fucking way to end up either in the doghouse or sleeping on the couch until she’s over her snit.”

“Yeah, I’ve been watching y’all for quite some time now and have picked up a few things here and there. The major one I’ve paid close attention to is that a man‘shouldn't piss the pregnant wife off’and‘never ever mention her weight, how big she’s getting or gotten no matter the circumstances, and always tell her how beautiful she is’even if she’s in a pair of loose sweats, a baggy shirt, and her hair pulled up in one of those messy knot things on the top of her head.”

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