The Haircut (Excerpt)
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Meloney, Sam and Barb stroll by Allen’s. Picture in the window of a woman with thick curly hair just below her shoulders. Sam looks at the picture. Half an hour later the women return to the window. Barb spots Sam looking at this picture again.
-- It would definitely be less management. Instead of an hour, you could probably wash your hair and go in twenty minutes.
Sam blushes.
-- Slinger would have a fit. He loves it.
-- Well if he loves you as much as he contends, he won’t care what you do to your hair. You deserve a change girl. Besides, it all grows back anyway.
Sam nods. The women go into the hairdresser’s. Seeing such beautiful flowing curls, the hairdresser knows what to expect.
-- Would you just like it washed?
Sam blinks.
-- Think I’m gonna try something different. How ‘bout we go just below the shoulders?
The hairdresser’s mouth hangs.
-- You really don’t want to do that? You’ll feel so naked.
-- Let’s try.
Half an hour later Sam’s curls are all on the floor. Her hair is still thick. Just dangles upon her shoulders. The hairdresser prepares Sam for symptoms of withdrawal.
-- You gotta give it time to grow on you. A haircut this drastic needs some getting used to.
Barb and Meloney lead her back onto the street, trying to find something to say.
My mouth drops to the floor when she opens the door. I’ve never seen Sam with hair above her shoulders. We sit down on the couch in the living room. As always, I start stroking her hair. Sam giggles annoyingly and pushes me away.
-- Stop Slinger. You’re tickling me!
Sure, my fingers fall from her hair to her neck. I used to play with her curls that went down to her waist. They were so soft. She never said anything.
Worse, I glance down at Sam’s outfit. She’s wearing blue jeans, a brown tight shirt. I turn purple as I look further. Brown cowboy boots! Luckily, there’s no thousand-dollar jewelry on her body yet.
Still, Sam’s red hair flies around in the wind. On Saturday night when she gets together with her cousins, they braid it. However, because it’s so short it feels like her cousins are tying knots around her brain. Sam begins looking in the mirror. Simple ponytails are boring. She misses the three-layer bun, which people say is her prettiest.
Now it just takes twenty minutes to wash and blow-dry. Before it took an hour. Yesterday the girls braided it. So it’s still long enough for that. Just gotta get used to it. And it’s so much lighter to walk around in. It doesn’t feel like I’m carrying an extra ten pounds around all day. There isn’t that much difference between hair resting on the shoulders or the middle of the back. Slinger will come around. I know he will.
While looking for papers in my office one day three weeks after the horrid day, I find a picture of Sam from last year. Red curls flowing down to her waist. Hot, soft and frizzy. Damn. Serves me right though. If I had just paid attention to my wife, and forgot about the fucking basketball game, we wouldn’t be in this hairy dilemma.
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