Their last night together was warm and comfortable and touching. Liz insisted on helping Ruth make dinner, and she seemed in better shape than she'd been in a long time, calm, and quiet, and stronger. And afterwards, she touched Ruth's hand and looked into her eyes.

“Thank you for everything….”

Ruth shook her head, wanting not to cry with her, but it was so difficult. After a lifetime of crying for everything, how could one stop for what was really important? But this time, she knew she had to hold back. “Don't thank me, Liz. Just do everything you have to.”

“I will.” She seemed to have grown older in the last weeks, more mature somehow. “I feel better about it now. I think Bernie does too. It won't be easy, but we'll make it.” Ruth nodded, unable to say more, and the next day she and Lou took them to the airport. Bernie carried the baby, and Liz held Jane's hand, and she walked onto the plane unaided, as the elder Fines struggled not to cry. But once the plane was gone, Ruth fell sobbing into her husband's arms, unable to believe their courage, and the evil fate that had befallen people she loved so much. Suddenly it wasn't the Rosengarden's grandson … or Mr. Fishbein's father … it was her daughter-in-law …and Alex and Jane …and Bernie. It was so wrong and so unfair and so unkind, and as she cried in her husband's arms she thought her heart would break. She couldn't bear it.

“Come on, Ruth. Let's go home, sweetheart.” He took her gently by the hand and they went back to their car, and suddenly she looked at him, realizing that it would be them one day.

“I love you, Lou. I love you very much….” She began to cry again and he touched her cheek as he held open the door for her. It was a terrible time for all of them, and he was so damn sorry for Liz and Bernie.

When they arrived in San Francisco, Tracy was waiting for them with their car, and she drove into the city with them, chatting and laughing and holding the baby close to her.

“Well, it's good to have you guys back.” She smiled at her friends but she saw easily that Liz was exhausted. She was to go into the hospital the next day to begin the chemotherapy.

And that night, as she lay in bed, after Tracy went home, Liz rolled over, propped her head up on her elbow, and looked at Bernie. “I wish I were normal again.” She said it like a teenager wanting to wish away pimples.

“So do I.” He smiled at her. “But you will be one of these days.” They were both putting a lot of faith in the chemotherapy. “And if that doesn't work, there's always Christian Science.”

“Listen, don't knock it,” she said seriously to him. “One of the teachers at school is a Christian Scientist, and it really works sometimes …” Her voice trailed off, thinking about it.

“Let's try this first.” He was, after all, Jewish and the son of a doctor.

“You think it'll be really horrible?” She looked scared, and he remembered how frightened she had been, and in how much pain, when Alexander was born, but this was very different. This was forever.

“It won't be great.” He didn't want to lie to her. “But they said they were going to give you stuff to knock you out. Valium or something. I'll be right there with you.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“You know, you're one of the last great husbands.”

“Oh yeah? …” He rolled over and slid a hand under her bed jacket. She was always cold these days, and she wore his socks to bed. And he made love to her gently this time, feeling all his strength and love go into her, wanting to give her a gift of himself, and she smiled sleepily afterwards. “I wish I could get pregnant again. …”

“Maybe you will one day.” But that was too much to ask. He would have settled for her life in place of another one, and it made Alexander even more precious to them now. She held him in her arms for a long time that next morning before she went to the hospital, and she had made Jane's breakfast herself and packed her favorite lunch for her. In a way, it was cruder to be doing so much for them. They would miss her more, if something happened.

Bernie drove her to the hospital, and they put her in a wheelchair when she checked in. A student nurse pushed her upstairs as Bernie walked along, holding Liz' hand, and Doctor Johanssen was waiting for them. Liz undressed and put on a hospital gown, and the world looked so sunny outside. It was a beautiful November morning, and she turned to Bernie.

“I wish I didn't have to do this.”

“So do I.” It was like helping her to the electric chair as she lay down, and he held her hand, and a nurse in what looked like asbestos gloves appeared. The stuff they used was so powerful that it would have burned the nurse's hands, and they were going to put that inside the woman he loved. It was almost more than he could bear but they gave her the IV of Valium first, and she was half asleep when the chemotherapy began. And Johanssen stayed to supervise the treatment. When it was over she lay sleeping peacefully, but by midnight, she was throwing up and desperately ill, and for the next five days her life was a nightmare.

The rest of the month was just as bad, and Thanksgiving was no holiday for them that year. It was almost Christmas before she felt halfway human again, and by then she had no hair and she was rail-thin. But she was home again, and she only had to face the nightmare once every three weeks now, and the oncologist promised it would only make her sick for a day or two. After Christmas vacation she could go back to school to teach again, and Jane was like a different child once she was home, and Alexander was crawling.

The last two months had taken their toll on all of them. Jane cried a lot in school, the teacher said, and Bernie was barking at everyone at the store, and constantly distracted. He was using babysitters to help take care of the baby all day long, but even that wasn't working out. One of them got lost with the baby, another never showed up, and he had to take the baby to a meeting, none of them knew how to cook, and nobody seemed to be eating except Alexander. But as Christmas approached and Liz felt better again, things slowly returned to normal.

“My parents want to come out.” He looked at her one night, as they sat in bed. She was wearing a kerchief on her head to cover her baldness and she glanced at him with a sigh and a smile. “Do you feel up to it, sweetheart?” She didn't, but she wanted to see them, and she knew how much it would mean to Jane, and even though he wouldn't admit it, to Bernie. She thought of only a year before, when they had taken Jane to Disneyland and given them a chance to celebrate their anniversary. She had been pregnant then …and their whole life had been directed to living, not dying.

She said as much to him and he looked at her angrily. “It is now too.”

“Not exactly.”

“Bullshit!” All his impotent rage was suddenly directed at her and he couldn't stop it. “What do you think all this chemotherapy is about, or are you giving up now? Christ, I never thought you were a quitter.” His eyes filled with tears and he slammed the door as he walked into the bathroom. And he came out twenty minutes later, as she lay quietly in their bed, waiting for him. He looked sheepish as he came to sit next to her and took her hand in his. “I'm sorry I was an asshole.”

“You're not. And I love you. I know it's hard on you too.” She touched the kerchief on her head without thinking. She hated feeling so ugly, and her head was so round and bumpy. She felt like something in a science fiction movie. “This is awful for everyone. If I was going to die, I should have been hit by a truck, or drowned in the bath-tub.” She tried to smile, but neither of them thought it was funny, and then suddenly her eyes filled with tears. “I hate being bald.” But more than that, she hated knowing she was dying.

He reached for the kerchief and she ducked away from him. “I love you with or without hair.” There were tears in his eyes, and hers as well.

“Don't.”

“There is no part of you I don't love, or that's ugly.” He had discovered that when she gave birth to their son. His mother had been wrong. He hadn't been shocked or disgusted. He was touched, and he loved her more, as he did now. “It's no big deal. So you're bald. One day I will be too. I'm just making up for it now.” He stroked the beard and she smiled.

“I love you.”

“I love you too …and this is about living too.” They exchanged a smile. They both felt better again. It was an hourly battle to keep their heads above water. “What'll I tell my parents?”

“Tell them to come out. They can stay at the Huntington again.”

“My mother thought Jane might like to go away with them again. What do you think?”

“I don't think she'll want to. Tell them not to be hurt.” She was clinging to Liz for dear life, and sometimes cried when she left the room now.

“She'll understand.” His mother, who had been a tower of guilt all his life was suddenly wearing a halo. He talked to her several times a week and she had a depth of understanding he had never found in her before. Instead of torturing him, she was a source of comfort.

And she was once again when they arrived just before Christmas and brought mountains of toys for both the children, and his mother touched Liz to tears when she brought her the one thing she wanted. In fact, she brought half a dozen of them. She closed the door to their room, and advanced on her, carrying two huge hat boxes.

“What's that?” Liz had been resting, and as always, tears had slid from her eyes to her pillow, but she wiped them away quickly as she sat up and Ruth looked at her nervously, afraid that she might be offended.

“I brought you a present.”

“A hat?”

Ruth shook her head. “No. Something else. I hope you won't get angry.” She had tried to match the lovely golden hair she remembered but it hadn't been easy, and as she took the tops off the boxes, Liz suddenly saw a profusion of wigs, in different cuts and styles, and all in the same familiar color. She started to laugh and cry all at once, and Ruth looked at her cautiously. “You're not mad?”

“How could I be?” She stretched her arms out to her mother-in-law, and then pulled out the wigs. There was everything from a short boyish cut to a long page boy. They were beautifully made, and Liz was touched beyond words. “I've been wanting to buy one, but I was afraid to go into the store.”

“I thought you might be …and I thought this might be more fun.” Fun …what could be fun about losing your hair from chemo? …But Ruth had made it better.

Liz went to the mirror and slowly pulled off her kerchief as Ruth looked away. She was such a beautiful girl and so young. It wasn't fair. Nothing was anymore. But she looked up at Liz now, as she stared into the mirror in one of the blond wigs. She had tried the page boy on first and it suited her to perfection.

“It looks wonderful!” Ruth clapped her hands and laughed. “Do you like it?”

Liz nodded and her eyes danced as she looked in the mirror. She looked decent again …better than decent. Maybe even pretty. In fact, she felt gorgeous—female again. She suddenly laughed, feeling healthy and young, and Ruth handed her another. “You know, my grandmother was bald. All orthodox women are. They shaved their heads. This just makes you a good Jewish wife.” She gently touched Liz' arm then. “I want you to know …how much we love you. If love could have cured her, she would have had the remission they wanted so badly. Ruth had been shocked to see how much weight she'd lost, how thin her face was, how deeply sunk her eyes, and yet she said she was going back to teach after Christmas.

She tried on the rest of the wigs, and they decided on the page boy for her first entrance. She put it on, and changed her blouse. It required something more sophisticated than what she'd been wearing and she walked into the living room, trying to look casual, as Bernie did a double take and stared at her in amazement.

“Where did you get that?” He was smiling. He liked it.

“Grandma Ruth. What do you think?” She asked in an undertone.

“You look great.” And he meant it.

“Wait till you see the others.” It was a gift that had boosted her morale immeasurably and Bernie was grateful to his mother, even more so as Jane came bounding into the room and stopped dead.

“You got your hair back!” She clapped her hands with delight, and Liz smiled and looked at her mother-in-law.

“Not exactly, sweetheart. Grandma brought me some new hair from New York.” She laughed and suddenly Jane giggled.

“She did? Can I see?” Liz nodded and took her in to look in the boxes, and Jane tried on two or three of them herself. They looked funny on her and she and Liz laughed. Suddenly it felt like a party.