A PTA Mom Haircut: John & Kate Part 2

Thank you so much for all the love on part 1! While writing, I tend to struggle with properly describing the exact haircuts I envision, so was inspired by the user Red Bob on here to generate some images to go along with the story. 

For a quick recap, this is what Kate started out looking like (left), and what she was left with after the first haircut (right):  

   

The story picks back up right after that first haircut, enjoy!

–

The morning after my haircut, I walked into the PTA meeting with Linda by my side, and that was all it took for the other moms to do a complete 180. Suddenly, my days were filled with meetings, bake sales, and pot lucks.

But despite the acceptance the haircut brought, I refused to let Linda anywhere near me with a pair of scissors again, avoiding her salon entirely. My short haircut slowly but surely grew as the months passed, the short layers growing out unevenly, until eventually, it turned into a mess of layers that fell just past my shoulders. Still, I stubbornly refused to cut it.

One night in bed, John absentmindedly brushed my hair aside while kissing my neck and suddenly paused. “I miss your short hair,” he murmured. He tugged gently on my hair, tilting my head back to look at me. “Why don’t we set up another appointment for you with Linda?” he asked.

I hesitated before replying, “I’m scared of another repeat of last time.”

Immediately, his expression softened. “Kate,” he said gently, “it was an honest miscommunication. And I mean, was it really so bad? I’ve never been more attracted to you than after that haircut. You looked beautiful and there was a different confidence in the way you carried yourself.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve never been less confident, I looked forty” I scoffed.

“You absolutely did not.” John said softly, kissing my lips. His lips trailed down my neck, “Don’t you miss having all this hair off your neck?” he whispered. My breath caught as his hot breath against my neck sent shivers down my spine. I felt him smirk knowingly in response. “I’ll take that as a yes” he said smugly.

I sighed, turning toward him. “I do need a trim or something,” I admitted reluctantly, “ The layers are a mess.”

His face lit up before grabbing his phone, his thumbs flying across his screen.”Linda has an opening tomorrow morning,” he said cheerfully.

I stared at him. “You already booked it?”

“You said you needed a trim,” he shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

—

The next morning I shuffled into the kitchen to find John waiting for me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I asked.

“I took the day off,” he said, handing me a cup of coffee.“I figured you could use the moral support today.”

Just an hour later, I reluctantly found myself back in Linda’s basement salon. This time, I walked in determined– no surprises, and no dramatic transformations. The moment I sat down, I pulled out my phone and showed her several pictures. “I just want to even it out,” I said firmly. The photos all showed sleek bobs that were cut in a blunt line just above the shoulders. “And no highlights this time,” I quickly added.

Linda rolled her eyes, “You’re the only person to ever turn down free highlights,” she joked as she snapped a cape around me and began combing through the uneven layers.

She examined my hair before tilting her head. “Hmm I’m not sure how practical that length is” she said diplomatically, “It’ll be too short to tie back, but also way too long to stay off your face.” Linda gathered the front pieces and held them at my jaw. “If we take it just a little shorter to this length,” she continued, “and layer it at the back, you’ll still some length around your face while keeping it neat and off your neck.”

The confidence I’d walked into the salon with evaporated almost instantly. I started chewing nervously on my lip as Linda held my hair up to demonstrate the much shorter shape she was describing. I swallowed hard, pushing past my nerves to speak up.

“I don’t know Linda,” I said weakly, “it seems a bit sh–”

Linda suddenly turned around to face John.  “John!” she called him, holding my hair up again,  “What do you think of this length? She’s not trying to grow her hair longer for you is she?” she said disapprovingly.

I felt my stomach sink as John laughed in response. “No, definitely not for me. If it was up to me she’d get the same haircut she got last time. I especially loved the back” he said, walking over to look at the shape Linda was creating with her hands.

Linda’s entire face lit up at his response. “Kate,”she said, admonishing me, “you have no idea how lucky you are to have a husband that not only understands the practicality of a short haircut, but actually prefers it!”

I glared at John who only winked at me in return. “Well if you liked the back last time,” Linda continued as she pulled my hair up even higher, “I could do a tighter stack through the back to keep it short again, then cut a steeper angle so Kate still keeps some length around the front.” John and Linda continued standing over me, pushing my hair around, discussing different lengths and options.

I should have been frustrated. I was frustrated. But underneath that frustration was an uncomfortable flutter of excitement through my stomach. While John had always been an easy-going and gentle husband, there was a part of me that liked seeing how determined he was to have my hair cut to his preference. And even more uncomfortably, I found myself actually eager to please him.

I looked at John as he caught my eye and smiled affectionately. I smiled back weakly, asking him “You really want this?”

“I think you’ll look incredible,” he said, sounding genuinely excited.

Linda clapped her hands, turning me back towards the mirror. “You’ll love it Kate,” she said, as if I had already agreed to the haircut.

I willed myself to speak up, to point back to the photos I’d brought, reminding them of the haircut I’d actually asked for. But every time I opened my mouth, John’s excitement seemed to make the words disappear. Linda started pumping up the chair.

“Let’s just get this bulk off,” she muttered.

And before I could say a word, she leveled the scissors directly with my chin and, snip. A thick section of hair dropped onto the cape. My mouth fell open. She kept going. Snip. Snip. Snip, all the way around. Hair slid down my shoulders in heavy chunks as she bluntly chopped the grown-out length away with startling speed. In less than a minute, my hair went from just past my shoulders to barely grazing my chin. I stared at myself in shock.

“Isn’t that so much better?” she asked brightly. “I can’t believe how fast your hair grows, you should come see me more often.” she added, as she grabbed a spray bottle and thoroughly soaked my hair until damp strands clung coldly against my cheeks and neck. Then her hand pressed firmly against the top of my head. “Chin down.” The words instantly transported me back to my first haircut and I instinctively obeyed.

Then I felt it, the cold shears pressed right against my nape. Snip. Directly across my neck. I inhaled sharply, realizing this was going to be much shorter than I had initially wanted. Linda continued, section after section. Snip. Snip. Snip. 

I swallowed hard, the regret growing in my chest as short wet strands rained down around me. I couldn’t see how short it was getting back there, all I could feel was the repeated pressure of the scissors against my nape, and Linda’s expert fingers pulling at sections of hair.

When Linda finally paused, she called John over again. “This is as short as I can take the back using the scissors,” she said. “What do you think of this length?”

It was not lost on me that Linda was no longer consulting with me about my hair. I looked at John through the mirror as he ran his fingers through the hair at my nape, sending flutters through my stomach. He smirked at me like he realized something that I hadn’t. “I like this length,” he replied. “But Kate’s hair grows so fast, and apparently she’s too busy to see you more often. Is there any way we can go a bit shorter here? Just to keep it off her neck for a bit longer.”

My head whipped up at his words, a small panic building inside me.

“Of course!” Linda exclaimed as she opened a drawer, pulling out a set of clippers. “I could use the clippers to take it even shorter. Actually, let me show you how to do this, so if it gets too long before she comes to see me again, you could touch up her nape yourself at home.”

John’s face lit up at her words, and the small panic turned into a full blown panic as I watched Linda plug in the clippers and attach a guard, my eyes bulging.

Linda glanced at me and chuckled lightly “Don’t worry Kate, we’re not shaving your head, just cleaning up the back a bit,” she said as the clippers clicked on and  a loud buzz filled the room. I felt like I was in a trance as a firm hand pushed my head down and the clippers plunged into my hair. I sat frozen in resigned horror as she made repeated passes with the clippers, pushing them repeatedly up my neck. John watched in deep concentration, hanging onto every instruction Linda gave him.

Linda finally turned the clippers off, and beamed at her work. “See how I took the hairline up a bit?” she said to John, “It really makes her neck look so much more elegant”

“It looks incredible Linda” he murmured, staring in fascination at the back of my head.

Linda set the clippers down and picked up the scissors, unclipping the front and top sections of my hair. “Just need to blend this all together now,” she muttered as she pulled a section at my crown between her fingers, lopping off a good 2 inches. She cut nonstop, angling the scissors around my head, section after section after section. When she reached the front, the scissors were placed at the top of my jaw and snip, the chin length that I had just started to get used to was shortened even further. The sound of scissors became constant. My stomach twisted tighter with every snip.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she stepped back. “There we go.” she said, ruffling the mostly dried strands around. “So much better.” The scissors clicked onto the counter and she picked up a round brush and the blow dryer. Warm air blasted against my scalp as she began styling the layers she’d created, rolling the brush underneath the shorter sections at the back.

When she finally spun me fully toward the mirror again, my stomach sank. I had walked in wanting a blunt lob that fell just above my shoulders, instead, I got the shortest bob possible, falling just below my earlobes. Linda brought out a mirror to show me the back, and my breath caught. The already short bob was angled up sharply to my occipital bone in a stack of voluminous layers that tapered down to the short clippered nape. Hesitantly, I lifted my hand beneath the cape to feel the back of my head. My stomach flipped immediately. The hair at my nape felt short, the very bottom completely shaved.

Linda beamed, grabbing a hand mirror and holding it behind me excitedly. “Look at that shape!” she exclaimed. “I know you wanted something a little more sleek,” she explained enthusiastically, “so I did less layers through the crown this time but still stacked it so you get that volume.” She fluffed the back proudly. “This is so much more modern and elegant than a boring one-length bob.”

“Oh,” I said faintly. I played with the new short strands. While it was much shorter than I’d been prepared for, I did agree that there was something elegant about it. There was still that same stacked back that screamed suburban mom, and the rounded layers that made the haircut look more matronly than modern. But maybe I really was adapting to this small town, or maybe John beaming at my new look was skewing my opinion, because I actually kind of liked it. Slowly but surely, I managed a small smile.

Linda lit up immediately. “I knew you’d love it!” she exclaimed as she unsnapped the cape from around me, taking it upstairs to put in the wash.

I stood up on wobbly legs, turning towards John who was sitting with a magazine in his lap, staring at me.”What do you think?” I asked hesitantly.

He walked over quickly, pulling me into a hug, and I could feel exactly how much he liked it. “It looks even better than I imagined” he breathed. His fingers slid into the short tapered section at my nape. “It’s so soft here” he groaned softly, “I never want your hair growing out again.”

I blinked. “Never?”

“Never,” he said seriously, plunging his fingers into the short hairs before kissing me quickly. “This is perfect.”

–

True to his word, John never let my hair get too long. The first time the hairs at my nape started touching my neck again, he noticed before I did. “Hm,” he murmured thoughtfully, fingers catching on the slightly longer hairs at the back. “It’s getting long again.” The next day, he called to tell me that the kids were going to a sleepover, and we were having a date night in.

When I got home from dropping the kids off at their sleepover, John’s car was already in the driveway. I walked inside the house calling out for him. “In the kitchen” he called back.

I stepped into the kitchen and came to a stop. John was standing there next to a wooden barstool he’d pulled right into the centre of the kitchen, a pair of clippers resting on the counter. He smirked at me before saying, “I think it’s time for a little clean up.”

Instead of the usual dread I felt at the thought of another haircut, a mix of nerves and excitement fluttered in my stomach. I walked over hesitantly to the stool, stopping in front of it, not quite ready to sit down and accept whatever was planned for me. John came up behind me, turned me around and pulled me into a deep kiss before pulling back and cupping my face in his hands, “you trust me?” he asked earnestly.

I nodded subtly, earning a pleased smile from him. “Good,” he said, gently sitting me down onto the stool.

“I don’t have a cape, so it’s probably best to take this off” he said huskily while pulling my shirt off. He stepped back to admire me, shaking his head appreciatively at the sight. “Don’t know how I got so lucky,” he muttered before turning to examine the different clipper guards.

I watched him debate between the different guards, “Do I get any input here?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

John smiled before replying, “No, and I think you prefer it that way.” He snapped on a guard, keeping it out of my view before moving behind me. He bent down to whisper in my ear, “Ready?”.

I nodded wordlessly, trying to steady my breathing against my racing pulse. John ran his hands through my hair, sending tingles down my spine, before firmly pushing my head down. The clippers clicked on and the loud buzz startled me. John chuckled at my reaction, “You’ll get used to the sound soon,” he says.

He pushed the clippers into my nape, and a rush of heat pooled low in my stomach. I clenched my legs together, gripping the stool to try and keep still. I couldn’t see how short he was buzzing it, but the tufts of hair falling around me gave me a good idea. Every few moments John would step back, study his work, then move in again. The anticipation was nerve-wracking.

The cool air against the back of my neck became more noticeable with each pass. Eventually the buzzing stopped and John stepped back, setting the clippers down. “I want you to feel this,” he said as he reached down, grabbing my hand and guiding it to the back of my head.

“Oh!” I said in surprise. The hairs felt impossibly short, yet soft. “You went even shorter than Linda did” I breathed out.

His hand reached around, moving lower as he pushed past the waistband of my pants, and pushed my underwear aside. John’s face broke into the biggest grin, “From what I’m feeling, you’re not too upset about that” he said arrogantly.

A moan slipped past my lips as he pushed a thick finger past my folds. That seemed to break the last of John’s self control. He crashed his lips to mine, kissing me in a frenzy as he picked me up, wrapping my legs around him, and carried me to our bedroom.

And so that became our routine. Every few weeks, the kids would get to go to a sleepover, and John would turn our kitchen into his very own barbershop. Despite the occasional jolt when I caught sight of myself in mirrors, I settled into this version of my life more completely than I ever imagined possible. In a strange way, I’d even grown to appreciate the practicality of my haircut. The hairs at the back were never long enough to tangle anymore, which meant most mornings I could get away with barely brushing my hair at all. And instead of the messy bun my hair used to live in, a quick tuck behind my ears kept my hair completely off my face. It was easy and convenient, similar to the rest of my life now.

So it was particularly jarring when a reminder of my former life arrived one day. I was sorting through our mail when I noticed it; a thick cream-coloured envelope with elegant handwriting and a New York return address. Inside was a formal invitation:

Please join us in celebrating the doctoral hooding ceremony of Emily Park.

Emily, my old roommate, the person who once knew me better than anyone, but who probably wouldn’t even recognize me now. I sank slowly into a kitchen chair. My best friend was becoming everything we’d once dreamed of, while I was making lunches and doing laundry.

A weird panic started blooming in my chest, because until this exact moment, I’d been content- happy, even. I looked around the kitchen, at what my life looked like now–at what I looked like now. I became exactly the kind of woman Emily and I used to cringe at. Holding Emily’s graduation invitation in my hands, I suddenly became painfully aware of the timeline split between us. I was pulled out of my self deprecating trance when the front door opened.

“Hey babe, we’re home,” John called. The kids burst inside first, loud and chaotic, dropping backpacks immediately onto the floor. John followed behind them, loosening his tie. “What’s that?” he asked, picking up the envelope.

He opened it, scanning the card. “Wow. PhD graduation? That’s incredible,” he said sincerely.

Something about how incredulously he said it made tears sting my eyes instantly.

John noticed immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

I laughed softly, embarrassed already. “I’m fine. It’s just-“ I looked down at my hands, pausing.  “She’s getting her PhD,” I said quietly. “And I…” My throat tightened. “I organize school raffles.”

“Kate,” he said gently, “It’s easy to point out all the things you’re missing but I guarantee when your old friends look at your life now, there are things they feel like they’re missing too.”

I swallowed hard. Deep down, I knew he was right. There were nights when I lay in bed between John’s arms listening to the kids laughing downstairs and felt overwhelmingly lucky. But there was still grief for the girl I used to think I’d become tangled up in that happiness.

John nudged the invitation toward me again. “You should RSVP yes. We can make a whole trip out of it. Just the two of us.” he said encouragingly.

I blinked. “Really?” The idea caught me off guard enough that I actually smiled a little. “But you hate New York.”

“I hate parking in New York,” he corrected. “But New York gave me you, so I will always appreciate New York,” John said as he leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning over me appreciatively. “It’ll be a good chance for you to see all your friends. I’m not sure they’d even recognize you now,” he joked.

The comment hit me harder than he intended. My smile faded slightly as I self-consciously fingered through the short strands of my hair. “I guess I’ve really adapted to the Ohio look,” I admitted quietly.

John studied my face. “That’s not a bad thing Kate,” he said softly. “You look like my wife, and the mother of our kids. Like someone who puts others first and is dedicated to raising a good family. Is there something so wrong with that?”

I shrugged in response, not entirely convinced.

–

Later that night, while John was in the shower, I pulled the storage bins out from under our bed that I hadn’t touched since moving to Ohio. There wasn’t exactly much use for leather pants and tiny cocktail dresses at elementary school fundraisers.

Near the bottom of the second bin, I found it. The black dress. A sleek black halter dress that skimmed perfectly over my figure with just enough of a dip at the neckline to feel sexy without trying too hard. But the back was what made it unforgettable– or lack of a back. It dipped all the way down, draping across my lower back, just a hair away from being indecent. It was always my go to dress when I needed an extra confidence boost.

Before I could overthink it, I slipped it on. The fabric hugged my waist perfectly, the familiar material smoothing against my hips as I pulled the zipper up carefully. Maybe I could still look like my old self, maybe she wasn’t completely gone. I was adjusting the neckline when the bathroom door opened behind me. John walked into the room, towelling his damp hair dry, and immediately stopped.

“Whoa,” he said softly.

I turned toward him. His eyes slowly moved over the dress before landing on the completely exposed back. For a moment, he just stared.

“It still fits,” I said lightly, trying to sound more confident than I felt. I waited for him to tell me I looked amazing,  but instead, his expression shifted slightly into something more uncertain.

“That’s…” He hesitated carefully. “A lot of skin.”

My smile faltered slightly. I looked over my shoulder toward the open back. “My hair used to cover most of it.” With my long hair, the dress had come across more demure, the dramatic back only occasionally visible beneath waves of hair. Now there was nothing covering the expanse of bare skin– just my short stacked bob and the completely open back exposed beneath it. Admittedly, it did feel a little over the top.

John walked toward the closet thoughtfully. “I’m just saying,” he said gently, “this is a graduation party, not a nightclub.” He reached into the closet and pulled out a thick black shawl. “What about this?” he suggested.

Reluctantly, I slipped it over my shoulders. The thick fabric immediately covered the dramatic open back of the dress, draping modestly around my arms.

John visibly relaxed. “There,” he said warmly. “That looks beautiful.”

I turned slowly toward the mirror and my stomach dropped. The confident, sexy girl I’d been hoping to see wasn’t there. The added shawl transformed the dress into something plain and matronly. Combined with the short bob, the entire look suddenly felt painfully mature.

John stepped behind me, smiling as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “This is perfect,” he beamed, bending down to kiss my cheek.

–

The New York trip rolled around faster than I expected, and as I sat at the airport, I found myself overthinking what people would think of me. Would they take one look and think I’d let myself go? That I’d fully given up myself for John? The haircut helped me fit in here in Ohio, but it would stand out like a sore thumb in New York. I hated admitting it, even to myself, but I wasn’t brave enough to face my old life looking like this. I missed my long hair, or at least the sense of security it gave me.

John absentmindedly ran his hand through my hair, a habit he’d started with my short hair. “We should’ve paid a visit to Linda before this trip,” he said with a frown. “I’ve been trimming your nape but the rest of it has gotten pretty long.” 

The truth was, I had purposely been avoiding Linda again, trying to grow my hair as long as I could before the trip. The short front strands that had barely grazed my jaw had grown out to chin length. The back had grown out a bit as well, but my nape was still shaved short; there hadn’t been a way to avoid John’s home haircuts. 

–

The second I stepped off the plane, the city hit me all at once– the noise, the smell, the rush of people moving with purpose. And while John felt overwhelmed, I felt right at home. We spent the day stopping by all my favourite places. My favourite coffee shop, the bodega I used to pick up lunch from everyday, even stopping by my old apartment building. 

Each place felt exactly as I remembered it…and yet, not quite. After being asked for the third time, “Where are you visiting from?,” I became painfully aware of the fact that I no longer blended in here and it stung more than I wanted to admit.

That night, back at the hotel, I was scrolling on my phone when a notification popped up. 

Photos Memories
On This Day: 4 Years Ago

I tapped it automatically and the photo that appeared made my breath catch. It was me, smiling confidently into the camera. I was wearing the infamous black dress, my long chestnut hair cascaded nearly to my hips in loose waves, catching the golden light around the edges.

I stared at the photo, reminiscing on how carefree my life had been at the time. I had just graduated university, and my boyfriend at the time had taken me to a rooftop restaurant to celebrate. We’d spent the entire evening drinking cocktails and watching the sun slowly disappear behind the skyline. He’d been staring at me longingly before pulling out his phone, “I want to remember you exactly like this” he’d said, “so 20 years from now when we’re both old and boring, we can reminisce on this.” I don’t think either of us had anticipated just 4 years later, I’d already be reminiscing on the girl in the photo. 

My fingers automatically drifted up to my short hair. I looked down at the photo again, at all that hair, at the girl I used to be. A sudden determination overcame me and I quickly searched for my old hair stylist, booking an appointment for hair extensions the next morning. As I received the confirmation email, nerves bubbled in my stomach, knowing exactly how John would feel about this. He loved the short haircut, everything it represented, and the sense of security it gave him about my commitment to this new life. But he had also loved my long hair once. Maybe he just needed a reminder; a reminder of the girl he’d fallen for before his obsession with keeping my hair short.

–

The salon looked exactly the same as I remembered it– modern and bright; a stark contrast to Linda’s basement salon.  As I walked in, I spotted Maddie, my stylist behind the counter. “Can I help you?” she asked politely.

“Maddie?” I asked hesitantly. “It’s Kate.”

Her face changed instantly. “No,” she said, leaning forward. “Wait. Kate?”

I nodded, a little sheepishly. Her mouth fell open. “Oh my god,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “What happened to your hair?”

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to brush it off with a light laugh.  “Ohio happened,” I said with a tired little sigh. “Can you fix it?”

Maddie hurried around the counter and ushered me toward her chair. “Of course I can fix it,” she said, touching the ends of my hair and turning my head gently from side to side. “Okay, wow. You really have been living a different life,” she said as she disappeared to the back before returning holding a long section of hair, almost two feet of it, and lifted it up beside my face.

“We just started offering K-tip extensions, they look so natural, nobody would be able to tell.” she said enthusiastically. The colour was an exact match, warm brown with just the faintest chestnut sheen in the light. My breath caught. For the first time in over a year, I saw myself again. Soft, full hair falling past my shoulders like it used to. It had been so long that I’d almost forgotten what I’d looked like with long hair. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.

Maddie got to work right away. Taking tiny bundles of the hair, and using a special heat tool to bond it to even smaller sections of my hair. She methodically repeated this, section by section, fusing the extensions into place, each one disappearing into my natural hair and blending seamlessly.

After what felt like the entire day, Maddie added the last section of extensions and stepped back. “Okay,” she said. “Ready?”

My stomach fluttered. Maddie took the chair and spun me slowly toward the mirror.

And there I was, it was like I had stepped backward in time.The long chestnut hair was back in all its glory– full, soft, glossy, falling past my waist, exactly the way it used to before Linda got her hands on it. The layers blended seamlessly, the length moving naturally around my face and down my back. It looked like me.

“The hair at your nape was too short for me to attach any extensions to, but I got in enough volume everywhere else that you can’t even tell,” she explained. 

 “Oh my god,” I whispered, “it’s perfect Maddie, thank you.” Despite the new weight on my head, I left the salon feeling lighter than I had in months.

–

When I opened the hotel room door, it was empty, and a part of me was relieved. I wasn’t entirely sure how John was going to react, and having a few minutes alone with my reflection felt nice. I plugged my dead phone into the charger and immediately a flood of notifications from John appeared. Is everything okay? Still alive? How’s your spa day going? Forgot to pack dress socks, going to go pick some up. Be back soon.

My hair appointment had gone much later than I expected and with New York traffic, we had to leave in the next 90 minutes or we’d be late. I stood in the hotel bathroom carefully applying my makeup, layering it on more heavily than I had in years. By the time I finished, I barely recognized myself. I stared at my reflection for a long moment, then reached for the black dress, carefully pulling it on. This time I didn’t even consider the shawl, with my long hair back, there was no need. The chestnut waves spilled down my bare back, softening the dramatic cut of the dress exactly the way they used to.

I was admiring myself in the mirror, when I heard the hotel room door unlock. I turned toward it just as John walked in.

He barely took a glance before frantically backing out, while closing the door.  “Sorry!” he called. “Wrong room.”

I burst out laughing. “John!”

He stopped, peeking back inside. His mouth actually fell open. “What the hell?” He stepped back into the room, his eyes scanning me up and down before locking in on my hair. “What did you do?” he exclaimed, sounding rather put out.

His tone immediately made me pause. “I got extensions.” I said hesitantly.

He walked closer and reached out cautiously, lifting a section. His fingers slid through it, catching slightly on the bonded glue. “Jesus, Kate. It’s not permanent right? It can be removed?” he asked, frowning.

“I mean yeah but they were pretty expensive and took hours to install, I was going to keep them for at least a few months.” I said defensively. The excitement I’d been carrying immediately began draining away.

“Months?” John exclaimed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. John was quiet for a moment. He let out a slow breath and shook his head slightly. “I thought you’d grown to love the short hair.” The disappointment in his voice made me feel guilty.

 

“John, I just wanted to feel like myself again for tonight. This is what I looked like when we first met, when you fell in love with me.” I said quietly, the hurt in my voice palpable.

“Exactly, when you were just a twenty-three year old girl in a bar. But things are different now, you’re not that girl anymore” he explained, the frustration clear in his voice. “We’ve built a whole life together. It feels like you’ve done all this,” he said, gesturing towards me, “trying to look like your old self, because you’re not proud of the life you have now.”

My stomach dropped. “That’s not what this is. I just wanted to feel confident tonight, like my old self again.”

John sighed in frustration again looking up at the ceiling before responding. “I just miss my wife, the one that didn’t need all this” he said, waving his hand at me, ” to feel confident.”

For a moment neither of us spoke. I looked at my reflection in the hotel mirror, the carefully constructed version of myself I’d spent hours creating. And suddenly I wasn’t sure whether I was looking at confidence or armour. Because the truth was, if I had been completely confident and proud in my new life, I wouldn’t have spent the last three months worrying about what everyone would think when they saw me. I wouldn’t have gone to such drastic lengths to try to look like someone I used to be, someone I wasn’t anymore. I realized I wasn’t actually afraid of people seeing how much I had changed, I was afraid to accept how much I had changed.

John shook his head, grabbing my hand. “Let’s just get this party over with so we can get back home” he muttered.

–

After that, things became tense between us. On the way to the graduation party, I would catch John glancing at my hair every so often, his mood seemingly darkening every time he looked at the long locks.

Emily nearly tackled me when we walked into the party. “Kate!” She yelled, wrapping me in a tight hug. “Oh my God, look at you!” she exclaimed, pulling back to look me up and down. “You look amazing,” she continued. “You haven’t changed at all.”

The comment should have thrilled me. Instead, it landed strangely. I’d worked very hard to create this illusion, to look like the woman they remembered. And instead of feeling triumphant, I felt oddly shallow, like I was wearing a costume. Because the truth was that I had changed, and I should’ve displayed that change proudly.

Despite the tension between us, John kept a hand on the small of my back smiling when people spoke to us, and made polite conversation when introduced to Emily’s friends. It had been nearly 2 years since I had had any alcohol, and after just two glasses of champagne, I was heavily tipsy. I excused myself, slipping away towards the bar to grab a glass of water.

As I was waiting at the bar, someone behind me let out a low whistle. “Well, I’d recognize that hair anywhere,” said a low voice.

I froze, recognizing the voice immediately. “Dean,” I said hesitantly, turning around.

My ex-boyfriend grinned the same easy smile I was once fond of.  He looked me up and down, shaking his head. “Wow, you haven’t changed a bit.” he replied as his eyes drifted to my hair. 

I must have been tipsier than I realized, because I stood there completely frozen in shock as he reached his hand out, gently tucking my hair behind my ear, “I always loved your hair.” he said, before his gaze dropped down to my dress. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and his face turned into a smirk, “I remember that dress.”

My face flushed and I stepped back to move away from him, and bumped straight into John. His eyes were fixed in a death stare on Dean, his face twisting in anger. He wrapped his arm around my waist, possessively pulling me closer into him.

“Hey,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m John. Kate’s husband.”

Dean blinked. “Oh” he replied, looking uncomfortable. “Right. Of course.”

He shook John’s hand, visibly wincing as John tightened his grip.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, I–uh–I should get back. Good seeing you, Kate.” he said, already scurrying away.

For a second, neither of us spoke, the tension thick between us. I turned towards him, “John-“

He cut me off, “Are you having fun?” he asked angrily. “You wanted to come back here and be the old Kate again.” His eyes flicked towards where Dean had disappeared. “Looks like it worked.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. John pulled me closer, leaning down near my ear. His voice was quiet enough that nobody else could hear.

“I really don’t want to know why he remembers this dress” he bit out angrily,”but once we’re back home, you’re going to throw it out.” He paused, his chest heaving in frustration as he slid his hand into my hair, tugging at the extensions “ and I’m taking you straight to Linda’s to get these out” he seethed. 

My stomach tightened. I pulled back slightly, looking at him. “John–”

“I’m serious,” he said, his expression composed but his eyes sharp. “I think I’ve had enough of New York, let’s go home.”

–

Uh oh, John is really upset, and I think Kate may be due for a punishment haircut. I have a rough idea of what will transpire next, but would love input on what you would do in John’s shoes. I have a couple scenarios on what I’d want to happen if I was Kate 😉 Also, sorry part 2 took almost a month for me to finish. I get short bursts of inspiration where I can write out one scene but then get writers block and have to move onto another scene. In the end I’m left with a bunch of roughly written chapters that I have to go back and edit so that the story flows and also isn’t too long.