Tolsty
When I get bit shaggy, I look to my wife with a smile,”Looks like I’m gonna have to call up Bill for a favor, eh”
See, I’m handicapped, I will honestly admit that, more specifically, I am in a wheelchair and I can’t exactly just roll downtown. With all those eyes staring at me; and the peepin’ Toms, they press their faces against the glass as Bill takes me in her arms to place me in that O’ sweet barber chair. It felt nice, even if my feet couldn’t touch the footrest, I always smiled sheepishly at my dangling legs: freshly painted toenails.
It was a barbershop, Bill would have nothing more or less, after my cut, if I wanted to, she would prop me up on the window of her shop and daintily paint my toes and, sometimes, fingernails. As they dried, she would sweep up my dead hair and tell me jokes she learned from the old whites that came in for a cut.
It was in that shop when I first saw my wife, looked away from the mirror for a couple of seconds and BOOM! There she was, dressed for the season and the reddest hair I ever saw: probably was Irish or, at least, Celtic or Nordic. She was beautiful so I pursued, asking her on a date for coffee then pizza and eventually, I standing (not literally) with the love of my life.
She wore a dress while I was stuck in a suit, for convenience; that dress of hers was sewn by herself and she went all out. The bottom of it was full of ruffles and the sleeves were puffed: princess style.She had the inside of her nose pierced just for the occasion and a golden thread of sorts connected the piercing to an ear one: it was a tradition she observed at Arab weddings that she attended on her missions, either with her Christian gran or rainbow railroad buddies.
She truly lived life, I’d envied her for it, and now we’re one; it feels as though I’ve lived them to. She loves me and me, her. Life settled down for us and we live together: She keeps nagging me about having a kid to run around our house but I always laugh it off. I want to run for hills when she asks,”Wouldn’t it be nice to have a wee lady in our lives?You would make a great mom”,wrapping her arms around my neck to box me in with her love.
When I told her I didn’t feel comfortable going to Bill’s shop due to reasons, she offered to cut my fro herself and to be deathly honest; I told her I didn’t feel completely safe with scissors in her hands with my scalp so close. She tried to understand and I understood if she couldn’t, me being a blunt and picky girl from the Midwest. She might’ve could’ve done a good job if I wasn’t too stubborn but I liked to have my hair cut , professionally done.
So, every Friday that I felt like, Bill’s car would pull up and she came with bubbly attitude and jokes galore. My wife made the arrangement and Bill was happy to close the shop to tend to me, anything for a sister I suppose. We weren’t exactly sisters but she knew me, couldn’t talk due to cosmetology school and a failed marriage but we reconnected when I rolled my ass into her shop.
I used to go to a man my dad knew, my father’s feeble legs were always welcome in the old place that was last place you suspected to sell a pint with your high n’ tight or shave for a date with Sally from Chestnut Avenue. My dad was always self- conscious about his wire-legs, ready to spark fire on the dance floor, but his guy was just there to cut hair and may share a few drinks: nothing more.
I had fond memories of that place and the memories and feelings of his clippers on my head was something special. I wish he was around to see that tiny girl in a wheelchair all grown up and still can’t find the perfect do to fit her style.
My wife pulled up a website so I could choose a photo for Bill to replicate on my head. The styles were cliché to me and I told her I knew exactly what I wanted, even though I didn’t, she shrugged and trusted my judgment. She helped me to wash and prep my hair for the barber, her fingers running through my scalp felt so nice.
Bill was punctual, as usual, her Sedan parked outside our house; she was a tall Miss, on the thinner side, and had a style so tailored to her nature. She liked to be cool all the time, especially in the summer, so skin sides and a faux hawk was the best thing for her. Her clothes were street, she only put on her garb when she had me prepped and was talking to me.
She asked me if I wanted to stay in my chair or if I wanted to be placed in her special chair. I was satisfied to stay in mine so my wife locked my chair in place with the brakes.
My wife loved Bill as much as me and was eager to help her make me beautiful, helping Bill put on her barber’s shirt and buckling her cuffs. She leaned in and kissed Bill on the cheek,”Make her pretty for me”,she told her.
“I always do, love”, Bill replied with a smile. I stewed in my jealousy but not for long: Bill always made time for both of us. While my wife sat nearby to watch the show, Bill put her big palms on my shoulders,”What’ll it be, babe?”
Her voice was so strong but sweet, the style I had in mind disappeared from my memory. I could only give her a go-ahead to do whatever she wanted.”It’s been a long time since you let me to do whatever to your fro, what gives?”Bill asked.”My wife did request you make me beautiful”, I smiled sheepishly.
She smiled, shrugged and took out her long, shearing scissors.”Then we’re going short”,she whispered in my ear. I never would have guessed that she wanted to take so much hair off but I guess she surmised that since summer was so close, that I needed a short style to reflect it.
I was not a stranger to short hair but it was still an adventure when she clipped off giant chunks of my fro. I only looked down, hair littered the ground and all but covered the cape she draped on me.
Bill exchanged her shears for clippers and attached a red guard to it. As they ran about my shorn head, I looked to my wife; she was smiling.A razor tidied up my edges and neckline.My barber raised my chin with her giant palms,”Another beautiful cut, eh. You’re beautiful, babe”
Her lips mingled with mine to seal the end of the process. The Cape flung my cut hair towards the floor and my chair was released from its stiff position. My wife wasted no time coming over to me and running her beautiful hands all over my head, she was very satisfied with the result and made that clear with her lips on me.
Bill swept up the mess of what was on my head and tossed it.”I guess that’s it”,she sighed with a smile,”What do you think, Honeycomb?Is it all you dreamed of?”she joked.”Yes, and more”,my wife gave Bill the toll of of her services,”And she does look so good”
”Uh… You gave me too much”,said Bill, confused,” You paid me double”
”I know”,my darling replied,”I’ve been thinking. This red mess has served me well but it needs to go. At least, I want it short”, she beamed.Me and Bill were at the same level of surprise when she said this and looked at each other in disbelief. My baby rarely cuts ,and short? What was she thinking?
”Ok”,Bill blurted out in confused agreement as my wife’s face glowed with giddiness. She pulled up a chair and sat her plump booty on it so daintily.Her red locks, Bill stuck to the top of her head. The cape that once draped me draped her and looked just as cute on her. But the barber’s hands were trembling slightly, Bill was caught off guard by her sudden request but she was loyal to her craft, securing the cape snugly around my wife’s neck.
The waterfall of red ran still before Bill even popped the question. She rubbed her neck to stall but didn’t do it long as to not give my wife a hint of her nervousness,”So, what’re we doing today?”,she asked.My wife looked at her with a smile and twinkle in her eye,”Cut it short, any style you like”
’Well, that’s no help’, I thought and apparently, Bill and I think the same. She gave me a glance for help but I was at a loss.’Make her pretty’, I mouthed, knowing whatever she did to my wife’s head would look good on her.That seemed to give my barber confidence as she instantly got to work.
I was a bit concerned when she brought out the clippers, guard still on, and started their whir. My concern grew as Bill lifted up some hair and let the device shred up the left side of my wife’s head. Up and up she ran that thing, I was terrified but one look at my wife told me that she was enjoying this!
I may not know my girl as well as I thought, I was seeing a new side of her.A part of her that couldn’t wait to get rid of this red mess, maybe donate it to charity? I loved this adventurous side of her and I loved to see all that red fall into her lap.
”Ooh”,my lady was excited at the first touch of her scalp,”This feels… I love it!”. She loved her shorn scalp and I wanted to rub my hand all over it. I couldn’t wait til Bill threw off the cape but I composed myself as to not get too excited.
But the cape didn’t come off,Bill was whispering in my wife’s ear and she giggled all the while.When she stopped, my wife nodded to her; agreeing to something that I was unaware of. I hated surprises and when I first saw the guardless clippers entered my dear’s scalp, I hated this one to.They sheared off what stubble was left on my girl’s head.
A bald head almost blinded me in the sunlight, she was gorgeous with no hair and she loved it; vigorously rubbing it raw.Still,Bill had more to do. She painted my wife’s already white head more white and sharpened a razor blade,”Time to make you look beautiful”,Bill smiled.
When she was done,the cape came off, and and my beautiful, bald wife sat there pretty and a satisfied smile on her face.Her blush showed up better without all that hair, she rose and came to me,”Did she make me pretty?”she laughed sweetly.
”She sure did”, I replied.
