Someone is lying next to me in bed. I blink, and for a minute he’s gone. Open, closed, open, closed. Open. Deeply tanned shoulders, back, and arms. Brown hair speckled with gray, and that oh-so-handsome face. He looks as if he just stepped out of a Marlboro campaign. He has his arms crossed and his eyes closed. I sigh with relief; he hasn’t seen me naked—wigless, that is. Without making a sound I turn and hunt around for Uma, who must have fallen off while I was sleeping and turning. I touch my scalp, which has stretched—without any trace of my hairline and eyebrows—into the shape of an egg: my face has lost not only its features but also its humanity. I sit up straight in bed. It’s still dark outside. Carefully, I slide Uma onto my head, seeking some comfort beneath her soft, dark strands. I crawl back under the sheets, close against Rob’s warm body. Last night I made love and fell asleep as Uma. This morning I woke up as myself, not capable of anything I did last night.
