A English teacher called Ms. Evans has alopecia an
A English teacher called Ms. Evans has alopecia and Ms. Evans girlfriend who is they history teacher called Ms. Larne helps Ms. Evans put on a wig every morning before school and there is dialogue
The scent of coffee and cinnamon hung in the air, swirling around Ms. Evans as she stood in the doorway of their shared apartment. Her fingers, trembling slightly, reached for the comb lying on the dresser.
“Ready for your daily transformation?” Ms. Larne, her girlfriend and fellow teacher, asked, her voice laced with a playful smile.
Ms. Evans, with her usual stoicism, replied, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Ms. Larne knew the truth. This daily ritual, the careful application of the wig, was a battle fought every morning. Alopecia, the cruel disease that had robbed Ms. Evans of her hair, was a constant reminder of her vulnerability. But Ms. Larne, with her vibrant, sun-kissed hair and infectious laugh, was her anchor, her unwavering support.
“Remember, you’re beautiful with or without it,” Ms. Larne said, her voice soft and reassuring. “The wig is just a temporary disguise.”
Ms. Evans, her eyes meeting Ms. Larne’s, felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. The love in Ms. Larne’s eyes was a constant source of strength.
“I know,” Ms. Evans whispered, her voice catching in her throat.
Ms. Larne took the comb and gently began brushing Ms. Evans’s scalp. “You look like a queen without it,” she said, her voice light and playful. “But the wig is just a little extra flourish.”
Ms. Evans chuckled softly. “You’re just saying that because you know how much I hate the feeling of my scalp against the winter air.”
“That’s fair,” Ms. Larne said, her smile widening. “And besides, you always look stunning in your crown.”
With deft hands, Ms. Larne began attaching the wig, carefully securing it with clips. The wig, a cascade of dark, glossy curls, was a perfect match for Ms. Evans’s natural hair color. Ms. Evans, staring at her reflection in the mirror, felt a surge of confidence.
“You look amazing,” Ms. Larne said, her voice laced with pride.
Ms. Evans smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Thanks, love. You really do make this easier.”
“Don’t worry,” Ms. Larne said, placing a kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead. “We’ve got this. Now, let’s conquer the day.”
As they walked out the door, hand in hand, Ms. Evans felt a sense of calm settle over her. The wig was a shield, a temporary solution. But Ms. Larne, with her unwavering love and support, was her true armor, her protector in a world that often felt harsh and unforgiving.
