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Klaus: An Origin Story

By Ginger Herten

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Views: 4,588 | Likes: +23

***** This one is a bit of a departure for me.  As a cis woman, writing this from a male POV was a bit of a leap for me.  Please be forgiving, but also mention it if there are any corrections.  *****

 

 

“Klaus?”  a female voice asked from behind me.

I was a little surprised, the voice didn’t sound like any of the women who worked in the salon/barber shop I was a co-owner of, but clients always called me Nicklas.  The accent though, reminded me of home.  I turned and looked at the woman in her late 30s standing at the reception desk across from Mike.

“Katrina?”  I think my jaw may have dropped.

“It’s been what?  almost 20 years?”  She asked.

“Yeah, just about.”  I admitted feeling old.  “It’s good to see you.  What are you doing here?”

“Here in this town? Or here in this shop?”  Katrina asked.

“I guess either or both.” I said, since both were surprises.

“I moved here a couple of weeks ago.  I’ll be starting a new job in a couple of months.  I decided I needed to change and it made sense to start over in a new city.  It seemed easier to do somewhere nobody knew me.”  Kat said cryptically.  “Actually I guess that’s also why I’m here.  I was passing by, and figured I would just drop in and talk to the receptionist about scheduling an appointment, I hate phones.  The receptionist was seeing when Angel’s next open appointment was.”

“Sorry to have accidentally ruined your plan to not know anyone.”  I joked, smiling at the woman I hadn’t seen since I was a boy and she was a girl.

“It’s fine.” She assured me, but there was a little catch to her voice that made me think maybe it wasn’t.

I stood there awkwardly for a second, not sure what to say or do.  Should I just say goodbye and leave her to her starting over, or would having an old friend to catch up with actually be a good thing.   I’d always cared for her deeply, she was the only girl who had ever made me question if I really was gay.  I’d dated a bunch of girls back in school just to help me hide in the closet, Kat had been the only one where I’d felt anything really.  

We hadn’t so much broken up as just agreed that graduation was the right moment for it to be over, no hard feelings,  We can still be friends.  She’d been the only person I was sort of out to.  I’d told her I wasn’t sure.

Then I was old enough that I wasn’t trapped, and I’d left, and never gone back.  I’d left behind the closet I hid in.  I’d left behind the town where I’d had to live in the closet just to survive.  I’d left behind the church that told me I was going to hell.  I hadn’t missed any of it.  

I’d also left Kat behind out of necessity.  Kat I had missed.

I didn’t want to start things up or anything, my husband and I were very happy, but I still cared.  I decided to give reviving the friendship a chance.  If Kat really didn’t want to, she could just make excuses, and I’d drop it and leave her alone.

“Hey um, I just finished my last client of the morning,” I stated. “Would you like to get lunch?”

She looked mildly conflicted for a minute, then said “Yeah sure.  Why not?”

I had a feeling there actually was a reason why not to, but that she had chosen to ignore it.  Her smile was a little nervous.  Then she turned slightly.

“Let me just finish up making my appointment.” She said before turning fully back to Mike.  “You said I should make the appointment with Angel?”

“Either Angel or Nicky,” Mike said casually.  “I think I can get you in with Angel sooner, probably next Thursday.”

“Hey Mike,” I interjected myself into the conversation, figuring I’d do Kat a favor.  “Why don’t you schedule Katrina with me.  I wouldn’t mind staying after hours.”

“Uhm.” Mike started cautiously, his eyes darting back and forth between Kat and I.  “I recommended Angel for a reason.” 

I wrinkled my brow in confusion.  Kat had the same long straight dirty blond hair as back when we were in school, still pulled back in the ponytail she’d worn it in most of the time.  Kat hated getting her hair cut.  I trimmed the split ends off of hair that brushed the butts of straight women, who hated giving up length, all the time, Angel on the other hand almost never did.  Angel was a barber, who specialized in clipper work, I was a cosmetologist who rarely touched them.  What possible reason could Mike have for suggesting Kat go to Angel?

Then it just struck me.  All the puzzle pieces fell into place.  Not just all the pieces that were the puzzle of Kat being here and this conversation, but a whole bunch of things from when we were growing up in a little town where if you didn’t fit in they would torture you.  I looked away from Mike sitting at his desk and up at Kat, and I knew, I finally understood.

“You’re transitioning?”

Kat just gave me a tight half smile, and a very slight nod.

 

————————————————————————-

 

“So Kal?” I asked the person sitting across from me, who I was trying to get used to thinking of as a guy named Kal, instead of a girl named Kat.  “How’d you choose that?”

I balled up the napkin from my lap.  I’d taken Kal to a place with 20 different burger options and handcut fries for lunch.  He had caught me up on what had been going on with him over the last 20 years, as we enjoyed our burgers, and I adjusted to the idea that he hadn’t been my last girlfriend like I had thought at the time, but he had actually been my first boyfriend.

“Short for Kalvin.  I wanted something that started with a K,” He answered casually as he took a swig from his beer bottle and pushed himself back from the empty plate of his finished lunch.  “It just feels easier to keep the same initials.  I’ve already started getting credit cards with just the K even though it’s going to take me a bit to get my name legally changed…  Nicklas, like your dad?”

“It has always technically been my name,”  I chuckled,  “even if I’ve mostly gone by Klaus.  It’s kind of nice going by different names professionally and socially.  Like I knew you were someone who knew me socially, even before I turned around and recognized you, it was still a surprise, but I was mildly prepared to see an old friend.”

“It was a pretty big surprise for me, when I saw you there,” Kal pointed out.  “I didn’t even know that you had become a hairdresser, nevermind that you owned a salon that specifically served the community here in this town.  And obviously I never really thought of you as Nicklas, so that was no clue.  Why do you use Nicklas?”

“Nothing profound or meaningful, It just started because my business partner was named Nichole,”  I admitted with a shrug.  “She goes by Nicky, at least most of the time.  So, the names just sounded good together.  Nicklas & Nichole’s is more memorable than Klaus and Nicky.”

“Hmmm,” Kal agreed with a little nod. “How did you end up opening a place with a lesbian barber?”

“That’s a bit of a story,” I glanced at my watch to make sure I wasn’t about to be late getting back to work.  “Nicky was actually my husband’s friend first, well, my husband’s barber.  Though at that point he wasn’t my husband, he was just a guy I had been on a few dates with.”

“So how did she go from being your boyfriend’s barber to your business partner?” Kal encouraged me to tell the story…

 

———————— 2014 ————————

 

I was smiling like a fool when I saw Bill walk into the only gay bar for 70 miles, but then I saw there was a pissed off woman with him, making my simple joy falter.  She was young looking, dressed in brown corduroy trousers and a red flannel shirt.  She had straight black hair down to her tailbone.  My first thought was that the guy I had been dating and was starting to fall for was about to tell me he had a wife and I was just something on the side, but I tried to stay calm and not jump to conclusions.

“Hey, Klaus babe,” Bill said as he reached the bar, he gave me a quick kiss and slid onto the bar stool next to me, the woman climbed up onto the seat next to his.  “Before we head to dinner, I’d like you to meet someone.”

“Oh?” I asked, feeling a little calmer, since nothing in his tone suggested that our date was about to change.

“This is my barber, Nicky,” he said as he introduced her. She smiled in a way that suggested annoyance more than happiness, and gave me a little wave.  “She got fired today.  I mentioned that the guy I was dating is a hairstylist.  I thought maybe you could talk to your boss and get her an interview at the salon.”

“Bill?”  I inwardly cringed, my earlier worry suddenly replaced by a whole new one, I didn’t want to give my endorsement for someone I didn’t even know.  Bill gave me a pleading look though, so I leaned forward so I could see around Bill and talk to Nicky.  “So you got fired?”

“Yeah,” Nicky said with annoyance as she took a swig of the beer, the bartender had just dropped off.  “Listen, if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I’m sure I can find somewhere to work.  I started out in my mom’s basement, it has a seperate entrance.  Bill just insisted.”

“OK, nice to meet you.” I smiled, and started getting up, dropping a few bucks on the bar next to my empty glass. “You ready to get going Bill?  I was thinking we could try that new Thai place.”

“Hang on,” Bill insisted, grabbing my hand and pulling me back down onto the bar stool.  “Nicky is great, and she was fired for really unfair reasons.”

I sighed and gave Bill another look, but he just stubbornly glared back.  I gave in.  

“Why did you get fired?” I asked Nicky who was just staring out into the room.  

“I kneed a customer in the balls.” She admitted with zero remorse, as I reflexively crossed my legs.

I gave Bill a look.  How the hell did he expect me to recommend someone who had lost their cool like that.  Not assaulting the customers is pretty damned basic.  

“The customer in question had just grabbed her ass.”  Bill explained.  “I happened to be there waiting.”

I was torn, on the one hand I understood the impulse.  Sometimes clients got a bit handsy with me, women who seemed to think it was fun because as a gay guy I seemed safe.  On the other hand, I never lost my cool, but then again the dynamic was different.  I was never scared my clients might take things further, and even if they did, they were never a real threat, I was never scared, just angry about feeling violated.  I spent enough time listening to women, to know that they put up with feeling violated a lot because they were scared of violence.

“Do you have a portfolio?  Clients other than Bill who will follow you?”  I asked.

Nicky just nodded, then tapped her phone screen a few times before handing it to me open to her instagram account.  I started scrolling through, a little surprised by how many of the severe haircuts were obviously on women, only a few were obviously men, many it wasn’t clear.  It was all pretty well executed.  Though there were some bobs that weren’t too wild, most of it was not the kind of stuff that you saw at the salon I worked at, lots of sidecuts and fades, but that might not be a bad thing.  She wouldn’t be in direct competition with any of the current stylists, and she might bring in a younger clientele.

“And she cuts my hair,” Bill volunteered enthusiastically.

“Don’t blame me for that.”  Nicky wrinkled her nose.  “It’s completely grown out.”

“It’s ok,” I chuckled as I handed Nicky her phone back, then turned and looked into Bill’s beautiful eyes as I stoked down his barely scruffy fade, “I remember how handsome he was the first time we hooked up when it was fresh.  I’ll tell Krystal about you.  I’m not going to mention why you were fired though.  If she finds that out, I knew nothing.”

“Cool, thanks,”  Nicky said, her hard facade cracking just slightly.  “Listen, I’m going to go talk to that girl over there.  You guys enjoy your dinner.”

And just like that, Nicky slipped off the bar stool, and went over to the only other woman who didn’t look like she was part of a group of straight girls.

 

—————————————————————————————

 

“So what do you think of Nicky?” I asked Krystal as she counted out the register.  

“Honestly,” Krystal huffed through pursed lips, “I am rather shocked that you would suggest someone like that.  I thought you had better judgment.”

“What was wrong with her?”  I asked nervously, thinking Krystal had found out I knew about why Nicky had been fired.

“Did you really think I would hire a dyke barber?”  Krystal scoffed.  “Our clients wouldn’t be comfortable around her.  Gay guys in a salon they expect and are comfortable with, but that girl…”

I stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to say, when Rachel spoke up angrily, “You know I’m a lesbian, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. You told me about a month after you started.” Krystal rolled her eyes, “But it’s not like anyone can tell, it’s different.  You aren’t as out there the same way. If I could have told you were a lesbian at first glance, I wouldn’t have given you a chair.”

“What if I want to put out a picture of my partner and me at pride?”  Rachel, who had always said personal photos at work stations made them look cluttered, threatened.

After a half hour of Rachel and Krystal fighting, Rachel was fired and I had quit in solidarity.   So Rachel and I headed over to the gay bar, where I was meeting up with Bill and Nicky.  After several drinks, somehow Nicky and I ended up agreeing to open a salon together.

 

———————————— 2023 —————————————-

 

“Thank you,” Kal smiled to the waitress who dropped off his chocolate cake and another bottle of beer, then turned back to me as I cracked through the glassy surface of my creme brulee.  “So, you were just like, ‘my full name is Nicklas, let’s name it that?’”

I leaned back, and swallowed my spoonful of rich custard and hard caramel.  I cracked open my second bottle of sparkling water, and took a swig of it to clear my throat.   

“That part came a few months later, when we were finally moving from seeing clients in Nicky’s mom’s basement to a real storefront.”  I explained.  “A barber downtown was ready to retire, so his shop was available, he sold us the furnishing for a song and dance, and the landlord was happy to sign a new lease with us.  Not the place we’re at now, it was just a little four seat shop, which had actually been running for years as a one man operation.  Choosing to call it Nicklas & Nichole’s Barbershop is all tied up in how we ended up hiring Angel and how Nicky got what became her signature style for several years…”

 

————————————- 2015 ————————————

 

Cluck-thud the staple gun went as Nicky, who had dressed for getting dirty in ripped jeans and a tanktop that left her muscular arms exposed to where the tattoos on her upper arms were visible, her long hair pulled back in a simple low ponytail, pushed the handle, driving the staple through the tan vinyl she’d found a nearly full roll of in a remnants bin and into the plywood base of the seat I was helping her reupholster.  

“We have to settle on a name.” I stated as I pulled on the part of the vinyl Nicky had directed me to.  “The landlord brought back the lease and told me that he wants the shop name filled out on it, and leaving it blank wasn’t ok.  If we can’t come up with something better than Spectrum Salon by the end of day, I’m putting that on the lease.”

Clunk-thud

“I still hate the Spectrum part, it’s just a wimpy version of rainbow, but I guess I can live with it.  Pull here.” Nicky conceded as she pushed the staple gun against the next section, clunk-thud.  “I really don’t think we should call it a salon though.”  Clunk-thud.  “This place is a barbershop and looks like it.  We can’t afford the kind of renovation that is going to make this place look like a salon.  Reupholstering the chairs and painting the walls is going to make it look better, make it look like not a total hole in the wall, but it’s still going to look like a barbershop.  We should just embrace it.” Clunk-thud.  “Besides, Spectrum Barbershop sounds more like a queer space.”

“I hate that word.” I said as I let go of the vinyl that seemed to be holding in place.  “It may not be the worst slur I’ve been called, but it’s still a slur.”

“I don’t exactly love it either,” Nicky said as she got up and stretched, “but I’m out of energy to fight it, too many in the community have decided they want to reclaim it and don’t care what the older generation who actually got called queer feel.”

Nicky bent down and picked up the newly covered seat, and put it in place on the chair it had come from.  I nodded acknowledging the inevitability I could see of queer just becoming the accepted term.  

“I guess you’re right, this place doesn’t look like a salon.”  I admitted as I looked around and Nicky took a drink from her water bottle.  “I guess I can live with Spectrum Barbershop.  I’ll screw the seat back down, while you fill it in.  The lease is next to the register.”

Nicky walked down, and lifted up the little bundle of papers.  She looked at it for a few minutes, but didn’t start writing.

“You signed this Nicklas?”  She asked me, squinting at the page where we had both signed.  “You signed after me, so I didn’t notice before.”

“Well it’s my name.”  I said as I screwed one corner of the seat to the frame.  “What did you think Klaus was short for?”

“I just didn’t really think about it.”  Nicky shrugged.  “But you know what this means?   We have matching names.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So we have to name the shop after that.”  She said.  “Like Nick and Nicky.”

“But I’m Klaus,” I pointed out.  “Everybody calls me Klaus.”

“Don’t you ever think it might be nice to be able to be someone else in different settings?”  She suggested.

“I thought we were settled on Spectrum Barbershop.”  I said with impatience as I secured the last corner.

“That was before I knew your name was Nicklas.”  

“The landlord wants the lease filled out today.”  I said with exasperation, then looked at the next chair and gestured at it.  “Should I start taking the seat off that one, so we can start reupholstering it?”

“That barber we’re interviewing, Angel, will be here any minute.”  Nicky reminded me, then took another drink from her water bottle.

“How did you find this person?”  I asked, since Nicky had been vague when she said something about an old teacher.

“One of my old instructors, Craig, called me because he heard I was opening a shop.  He said that he had this really talented recent graduate who is having a hard time getting hired.”

“Why are they having a hard time getting hired?”  I asked.  “If there’s a problem that is keeping other people from hiring them, why does your old instructor think it isn’t a problem for us?”

“He said something about Angel refusing to say if they are a guy or a girl.”

“So they’re non-binary?”  I guessed.

“He didn’t say that specifically, I don’t think Craig knows what non-binary means, but that would be my guess.”  She agreed.  “Obviously, if that’s the problem they’re having, then that’s not a problem for us.  I mean that’s kind of why we are setting up this place.”

Knock, knock.  Nicky and I both looked at the door that had brown wrapping paper taped over it.  The slight shadow of a person standing outside was visible.  Nicky walked over and opened the door a crack.

“Angel?”  She asked, then opened the door wide.  “Come on in.  Craig spoke very highly of you.  This is my partner Klaus.”

Angel looked nervous as they shifted the case they held tightly to their left hand then reached out to shake my hand.  I grabbed a couple of the waiting chairs, and started arranging a small circle for the three of us to sit around.

“So Angel,”  I began once we were all comfortable.  “Can we see your portfolio?”

“I don’t have one.”  Angel admitted shyly.

“Instagram?”

Angel just shook their head.

“Why don’t you have a portfolio?”  Nicky asked.

“I know I should, but I’m always too nervous to ask at the end of a haircut.”  Angel shrugged.  “I try, but…”

“Ok.”  I said, trying to be gentle with the obviously very very anxious person.  “Nicky and I are going to go discuss for a minute, can you excuse us.”

Nicky nodded, and got up and walked with me to the tiny store room in the back.

————————————————————————-

 

“I guess there’s more to the having trouble getting hired thing than just the gender thing.”  Nicky observed.  “Craig says they’re amazing though.”

“I’m not that comfortable just trusting Craig, who I don’t know.”  I said.

“I get that,” Nicky agreed, “but I don’t want to just reject them.  I trust Craig’s judgment.  And since Rachel only wants to work four days a week, we really could use another person. ”

“Unless you have a suggestion of an alternative to a portfolio,” I insisted, “I have to say no.”

“They seem to have brought their tools, how about we let them show us a little bit of what they can do.  Are there any mannequin heads around?”

“Not that I’ve seen, so unless you brought some for some reason, nope.”  

“They could cut your hair.”  Nicky suggested, looking up at my head.

“I don’t need a haircut.”  I pointed out feeling a bit on the spot.  “Rachel cut it two days ago. She’s going to be insulted if I get another this soon.  How about you let them cut your hair.  Since I cut your hair I won’t take it personally and you’re the one who trusts them..  But don’t just have them do what I usually do, I’m not really going to think that they’ve proven we should hire them if they just trim an inch off the bottom of stick straight hair and clean up your hairline.  Tell them to do something new.  As a bonus, maybe you’ll feel less like you need to wear ponytails if you let them add bangs and layers or something.  I’m not completely happy with our no ponytail policy compromise anyway, I mean really, who decides if a ponytail counts as plain or not.”

“Hell no!  I like my hair the way it is, and I have a date tonight.”  Nicky dismissed the idea.  “AND, I think I can be trusted to not wear half assed ponytails that look like I just pulled my hair back because I was having a bad hair day.  My ponytails are thought out and put together when I’m working.  I don’t want to wear my hair down every single day, but I don’t want something girly.”

“Yeah but eventually we might have more employees.”  I explained.  “And the policy is going to apply to them.  I’d rather it just be a blanket no ponytail policy.”

“And some of them may feel the same way about their hair as I do about mine.”  Nicky insisted.  

As much as I wanted to rehash the ponytail policy, I remembered that we had left Angel waiting in the other room, so I moved on.

“Frankly, I don’t really get what you feel about your hair.” I said. “You insist on keeping it long because you don’t want to look like a boy, but you won’t let me do anything other than trim it completely blunt because you don’t want anything girly, but then you also make me use the trimmer on your hairline because you can’t stand anything even vaguely like neck hair.  Maybe Angel will understand better than I do.  Just let them have a go at it.”

“I will admit I have some hang ups about my hair and gender presentation.” Nicky grumbled, “which is why you should just let them cut your hair.”

“Bill loves my hair the way it is,” I complained, and looked at Nicky who looked just as determined as I did.  

“So you want to just hire them?”  Nicky suggested, then added,  “If we hire them, we can make them help with the painting.”

“No.”  I said feeling frustrated.  “I guess we could suggest Angel come back another day.”

“I guess,”  Nicky reluctantly conceded, “but only if we make it really clear that we are interested in hiring them and we just need a second interview, and it has to be soon, like tomorrow, so they can help with renovating this place.”

The idea that we were going to have more help obviously had gotten stuck in Nicky’s head, even though there was no evidence that Angel was handy.

“Just so long as we are clear that we haven’t decided yet.”  I didn’t want to get trapped into hiring them yet.  “And we need examples of their work.”

“Fine.” Nicky grumbled, obviously not happy.  “Then we can get back to discussing naming this place Nick and Nicky’s Barbershop.”

“No, you agree to Spectrum Salon.”  I reminded her with annoyance.

“I had agreed to Spectrum Barbershop before I knew you were named Nicklas.”  Nicky grumbled.  “Nick and Nicky’s makes more sense.”

I breathed in, ready to start arguing, knowing it would be a long argument, and then remembered we had left the shy young barber waiting, and the solution came to me.  “Ok, I’m willing to let you name the salon Nicklas & Nichole’s Barbershop, full names for both of us, because nobody has ever called me Nick, if you are willing to tell Angel they can do something new to your hair.  If they do well with your hair, we hire them, and you can get them to start helping get this place fixed up  Deal?”

I watched Nicky stand there, working her jaw, obviously unsure about it.  I suspected there was some calculation going on in her mind.  

“I also want to settle the ponytail policy.  Make it no plain ponytails instead of a blanket ban on any ponytails, and I will let Angel cut my hair, not short.”  Nicky negotiated, because with her everything was a negotiation.

“It doesn’t need to be short,” I emphasized, “but it needs to be more than a trim.  Something new that actually requires skill.”

“Fine,” she finally took the deal, “but if I don’t like it, I’m shaving your head.”

She then just walked back towards the front of the shop, not giving me any chance to object to the added on clause I hoped I wasn’t going to end up with.

 

——————————————————————————————-

 

“Ok, Angel.”  Nicky said and sat in one of the barber chairs we hadn’t reupholstered yet, and took out the elastic that held the long thick hair back. ”Since you don’t have a portfolio, show me what you can do.  Suggest something.  Not short, and not girly.”

I turned the next barber chair over towards Nicky, and settled in to observe, then added.  “Something new and interesting.  Something that shows off what you can do.  Something that requires skill, not just a trim.”

“So an almost blank canvas?” Angel asked both of us.

I nodded, knowing that it was a challenge most hairstylists dreaded.  

Angel got up and just started unpacking their tool case.  I would have expected Angel to seem even shyer and more nervous about being put on the spot, but instead they were suddenly blossoming.  

“Tell me about yourself?” Angel prompted Nicky in a very unusual way to approach the consultation.  

“What do you mean?”  Nicky wrinkled her brow.

“I’m just trying to get ideas flowing.”  They said, when I noticed that along with the expected supplies like the clippers and shears, Angel had taken out a sketch pad.  “I need to know you to suggest something.  All I know is what Craig told me, you’re a barber and opening a new shop, but that’s it, he didn’t even say why he thought you’d be more open to hiring me.”

“I’m a lesbian.  I have a cat.  I like antiques and gardening,”  Nicky listed a few basic things about herself, her usual confidence slipping. 

“She’s always confident,” I added.  “She’s a little bit terrifying.  She rides a motorcycle.  She collects Barbies.”

“Hey, I told you that in confidence.” She snapped, but she was smiling.  “I don’t want to look like a Barbie.”

Angel just nodded, seeming to not get that though it was a true statement, Nicky had said it to elicit a laugh.  That wasn’t unusual though, Nicky’s sense of humor was so dry people often missed it.

“Ya kinda do though,” I teased, because my sense of self preservation isn’t great.  “Long, straight, all one length, and especially that artificially clean neckline.”

Nicky scowled at me.  I knew she wasn’t really pissed though, because when she was she didn’t hold back.  At the very least she’d tell me to fuck off.  So, I just smiled at her with amusement.

“Why do you keep your hair so long then?” Angel asked.

“I’m a girl.” Nicky stated firmly.  “I don’t want to look like a boy.”

“There are many short and medium length styles that are feminine.” Angel stated neutrally.  

“But that’s the thing, I don’t want it girly either.”  Nicky explained.  “I don’t want some soft pretty pixie cut or a feminine bob.  Long says female without feeling girly.  I mean guys have long one length hair too.” 

“So it’s not about being attached to the longhair, you just want something androgynous?” Angel asked Nicky.  

“I guess sort of.”  Nicky said, sounding unsure in a way that I’d never seen from her before.  “But I want to look like a woman who dresses androgynously, I don’t want to look androgynous myself if you get what I mean.  I’m a bit butch, but also really happy being a woman.  My grandmother always complained to my mother that if I didn’t have long hair people would think I was a boy because I didn’t like to wear skirts or dresses. ”

I watched the exchange with curiosity, I had been a hairstylist for years but never seen a consultation quite like this.  Angel was certainly digging up information that was obviously buried well under the surface.  In the months we’d been getting close to each other, Nicky had never seemed insecure about her gender.

“What would your mom say?”  Angel dug.

“She’d always tell grandma to let me alone and warn her she was going to give me a complex.”  Nicky gave a slight rueful chuckle, “I guess mom was right.”

“Think it’s time to move on from that?” Angel suggested.

Nicky shrugged, and pulled her long hair forward.  Angel watched Nicky looking down at the long locks in her lap.  The silence lingered for just a moment.

“What do you think about sidecuts?”  Angel asked, breaking the moment.  “They aren’t what most people think of as girly, but they are something mostly women do.”

“Aesthetically I love them,” Nicky responded,  “but I don’t want one.  I wouldn’t be able to stand being asymmetrical.  A few weeks ago, I was a bit behind on laundry, and I could only find mismatched socks, and I felt so unbalanced all day.”

“So I need to keep things symmetrical.  What if I did 2?” Angel suggested, sounding so much more confident than they had during the interview.  “A bit like a really wide mohawk, and you can keep the middle long.”

“That’s going to take a long time to grow out?” Nicky said nervously as she looked at her long hair in the mirror, then looked over at me with an unsure expression.  “Sidecuts are a bit of a commitment.”

I shrugged back, since I wasn’t sure what to tell Nicky, but then nodded.  She was right, if she wanted to grow out the sidecuts right away, it was going to take a long time and take a lot of styling during the grow out.  I could see Nicky was obviously uncomfortable with the idea, so I decided to try to get her out of the situation I was a little bit responsible for her being in.

“Sidecuts really aren’t that complicated.” I said to Angel, “Can you do something that’s more of an all over style?  I definitely want to see how well you handle scissor work, not just clippers.”

“Do you want me to cut the center too?” Angel asked, looking back and forth between Nicky and I.  “I could do a kind of medium length that still wouldn’t be short, and it wouldn’t take as long for the sidecuts to grow to blend in with the rest of the hair, especially if I layer it heavily.”

“I was more thinking of instead of the sidecuts.” I said tentatively, focusing on Nicky, trying to figure out how she felt.

Nicky took a deep breath, “Layered and medium length sound more girly than androgynous.”

“I can make it much more androgynous than what you have now.”  Angel promised.  “I will make the layers choppy.”

“Not short, right?”  Nicky asked nervously.

“Ok.” Angel said enthusiastically, then opened their sketch book..  “So you garden?  What is you favorite plant in your garden?”

“Uhm,” Nicky looked confused by the question, I was too. “I put a patch of raspberries in next to my mom’s garage. They are doing really well.”

“I can do those,” Angel stated, and started drawing.  “I just need a few minutes.”

Nicky and I looked at each other confused as Angel just concentrated on drawing in their sketch pad.  Was the consult going to come with an illustration of the planned haircut?

When Angel held up the drawing to show Nicky though, it was just a fairly minimal design of tangled thorny branches.  I recognized it as raspberry bushes only because of the earlier conversation.

“I don’t understand.” Nicky looked blankly at the drawing.

“You don’t like it?” Angel asked with a crestfallen expression.

“It is a great design,” Nicky reassured them, “I just don’t know what that has to do with my hair.”

“This is why we’re doing this, so I can show you.”  Angel said, and got up, pulling a cape from their case.

“Hang on,” I said before Angel could put the cape they were shaking out over Nicky.  “You need a portfolio and an instagram.  Ask Nicky’s permission to take before and after photos.”

It took a few minutes to walk Angel through the getting permission and taking before photos process, but they were eager to learn, which was a good thing.

I sat back down as Angel placed a strip of tissue around Nicky’s neck and then draped a blue and white striped cape over her with a scissor brand’s logo on it.  I focused on just observing, trying to stay out of it and see how Angel handled things.  

Nicky was watching intently too, as Angel plugged in their clippers, filled a spray bottle.  She sat patiently as Angel combed through the long hair that I’d talked her into letting Angel get creative with.  

Angel flick on the loud clippers, and started combing slowly downward through Nicky’s long hair, obviously being careful to keep the comb level with most of the hair from the right side of Nicky’s head in it’s teeth.  It was really obvious they were poised to make the first cut, but they hadn’t combed down very far, or more importantly, checked with Nicky if the level was good.  I was about to say something, since I could see how high the comb still was, but I wasn’t sure if Nicky could see it since it was behind her, and Angel wasn’t pressing the comb against Nicky’s neck where she would feel it either.  Nicky spoke up before I got a chance though.

“What length exactly are you starting at?”  Nicky asked nervously over the already humming clippers that were millimeters from the hair held in the comb.

“Medium length.”  Angel simply confirmed, sounding completely earnest.

Zwooop

I watched in horror as two feet of the straight shiny healthy hair spilled to the floor.  It landed in a pile that looked like ink.  The cut ends of Nicky’s hair swung forward, barely brushing her shoulder before settling next to her face, where it hung just a couple of inches below her chin.  I could see tight lipped anger seething just under the surface.  

I thought to myself that Nicky wasn’t just going to shave my head, she was going to kill me.

“That’s shorter than I was expecting.” Nicky said in a way too controlled tone.

“We said medium?” Angel’s confidence suddenly slipping.  “Should I….stop?”

Nicky let out a sigh in a really controlled manner.  “Just keep going.  You can’t put it back.”

Angel stood there, looking nervous, or maybe sad, definitely dejected.

“It’s fine,” Nicky said with more patience than she’d ever shown me.  “It was just a little unexpected.  We can work on being clearer about what ‘medium’ means.  Ok?”

“Ok”  Angel said a bit nervously.

They combed down through Nicky’s long hair again, lined the comb up to the section they’d already cut, and once again ran the clippers along the bottom of the comb.  Another two foot long bundle fell to the floor.  Too late it occured to me we should have put the hair in ponytails and saved it.  The smooth silky locks formed a tangled puddle.

With a couple of more swipes of the clippers, Nicky’s hair was all above her shoulders.  Angel didn’t pause very long though, they just combed briefly around Nicky’s head while still holding the humming clippers.  

I was a little surprised Nicky didn’t say anything about it already being too short and just end the interview when Angel combed a lock out from Nicky’s head at an angle that made it clear they were about to start layering.

Nicky had a tight expression as she continued to observe Angel working on her suddenly much shorter hair.  She simply silently watched as another several inches from the side of her head hit her shoulder then slid down to her lap.  As I watched Angel carve away at Nicky’s not quite shoulder length hair, I wondered whether Nicky was going to think a shag, which I thought was the plan, was girly.

Angel turned off the clippers after just a little bit of layering.  Nicky just kept staring at the mirror, as Angel picked up a comb.  Angel began parting Nicky’s hair just barely below her parietal ridge.  Angel took the straight line back to behind Nicky’s ear, and fastened the hair above the part to the top of Nickies head.  As I watched Angel then part the hair downward, I suddenly realized what they were doing.  This time, I spoke up.

“I thought we were skipping the side cuts because they were more of a commitment than Nicky was up for.”  I said, causing Angel to look up.

“It doesn’t have nearly as far to grow out anymore,” Nicky sighed.

“So I should do them?” Angel asked.

“Yeah,” Nicky said not exactly enthusiastically.  “Might as well see where this is going at this point.”

Angel nodded, and kept sectioning, adjusting the line that seperated the side from the back a couple of inches behind Nicky’s ear.  After fastening Nicky’s hair on the back of Nicky’s head, Angel made an identical section on the other side of Nicky’s head.

Angel barely spent any time adjusting the two sides to make sure they were symmetrical, which I would usually feel was sloppy, but in this case, the original sectioning was just done so cleanly and precisely that there really just wasn’t a need to redo anything.  Pretty much Angel just tilted Nicky’s head a few times to double check, and found it all matched.

Both Nicky and I watched closely as Angel got the clippers ready again, picking up a number 3 guard, but just holding it in their hand with the comb.  They flicked the clippers back on, and lifted the loose hair of the sidecut section nearest to me up.  They glided the clippers over the comb, sending another six inches or so to the cape.

Angel then snapped the guard on the end of the clippers, barely pausing, and then started pulling the clippers through Nicky’s hair, taking the side cut to the uniform less than a half inch.  They ran the clippers swiftly around Nicky’s ear.  The side cut I could see looked pretty rough still when Angel moved on to cutting the other side to the same length.  

I was a bit surprised when Angel turned off the clippers, instead of refining the buzzed hair.  But then they simply picked up another set of clippers.  The second set was sleeker and cordless.  They were the kind with the interchangeable blades instead of guards.  Angel turned them on, and then switched the blade.

I kept watching but clippers weren’t really my thing, so I watched Nicky’s reaction.  She looked calm enough, so I figured Angel knew what they were doing.

Angel ran the new clippers over the same area, this time more slowly, going up and down in shorter, more careful strokes, making sure the area was perfectly uniform.  They were more deliberate as they buzzed the hair around Nicky’s ear, making sure nothing was getting missed.

When Nicky’s new side cuts were finished, Angel picked up their cordless trimmer, I assumed for the usual reasons,  I assumed they were going to shape Nicky’s hairline and sideburns, maybe clean up around her ears a bit more.  I was wrong.

I watched as Angel started to carve a line into the side of Nicky’s head.  They used just the corner of the trimmer, looking over at the sketch they had done as they worked.  I’d seen Nicky cut a design in one time, she’d done it differently, using the tips of her scissors.  I had done some superbasic straight line designs with my trimmer once or twice, but nothing close to the level of Nicky’s.  I wondered if since Angel was doing it with a trimmer like I did, if the lines were going to be straight nd simple like mine, or if having been through the same training as Nicky and doing that sketch meant it was going to be a true illustration.  

It was just a few minutes into it, when my curiosity was answered.  Angel paused, and used a little brush to clean away hair clippings revealing the beginning of the design, the line curved organically.

I just sat back and watched as Angel carved the only slightly abstract illustration of tangled thorny branches on the side of Nicky’s head.  It was a process that I understood in theory, but had little experience with.  I had to leave it to Nicky to judge the technique, I would mostly just wait for the final results.  After Angel had carved the design outline on both sides, they went back to the sleek cordless clipper,  changing blades repeatedly.

When they finally finished stroking the trimmer down Nicky’s bare neck, I was impressed by the intricate and not at all flat looking design.  The way they had cut the hair to various levels of buzzed, created shading and shadow in a similar way to how the pencil sketch had.  As impressed as I was the first time I had seen Nicky do design work, it wasn’t quite as amazing as this.

“Do you have any towels ready to go in the towel warmer?” Angel asked eagerly.

Nicky looked over at the spider web covered machine she’d told me was a towel warmer when we started sorting and cleaning.  I remembered her lifting the lid, making a face, and immediately closing it.

“The towel warmer that came with this place is a petri dish.”  She informed Angel.  “Klaus, can you dampen a towel with the water as hot as you can get it from the tap.”

“Yeah sure,” I agreed, got up, and then realized we didn’t have any towles yet.  “Uh, what towel?”

Nicky sighed, and looked around.  “Paper towels?”

“Is that sanitary?” Angel asked doubtfully, looking at the roll on the stepstool.

“Meh, it’s fine.” Nicky said.  “I wouldn’t do it on a client, but my tetanus shot is up to date.”

“Do you just want me to skip the razor?”  Angel asked.

“Nah,” Nicky said, “I want to see how you handle it.”

“Ok,” Angel said nervously as they started putting a fresh blade into the razor handle and I started running the water waiting for it to get hot.

Once the towel drama was over, Angel pressed to warm towels against Nicky’s neck and head.  They spread a bit of shaving gel over her hairline, and began to stroke the sharp blade down through the stubble the clippers and trimmers had left behind.  Then they started very carefully making some of the lines of the design bolder.

Angel worked slowly and methodically, as Nicky and I watched their technique,  I was rather bored by the time Angl finally wiped any leftover gel off Nicky.

The sidecuts complete, and Nicky’s neck shaved smooth, Angel took the clips that held the hair in the center of Nicky’s head up and out of the way.  The not quite shoulder length curtain of black silkiness covered the sidecuts.  Angel picked up their spray bottle, and began wetting the hair they had considered medium length.

“So, what are you planning for the center?” Nicky asked nervously.

“Choppy layers that will be very androgynous.”  Angel stated, but didn’t specifically show Nicky what they meant.  “A bit shorter in the front, but still medium length in the back.”

“Ok… uhm,” Nicky looked a little worried.  “You’ll leave enough that it flops over the sidecuts?”

“Yes,” Angel nodded as they started combing through the wet hair,  “it will flop over the sidecuts when you don’t style it up or back.”

“Ok.” Nicky nodded, looking a bit less nervous.

Angel put down the spray bottle, and picked up their shears.  They combed a rather large section next to the sidecut from the top of  Nicky’s hair up into their fingers.   It looked like they were planning to take off quite a bit more length from where their fingers were placed.

“That doesn’t look like it’s going to flop over the sides,” Nicky said looking intently at the mirror.

“I think it should,” Angel wrinkled their brow.  “I’ll check.”

Angel lowered the hair down over the sidecut, as I suspected it would, it only came to about halfway down over the sidecut, leaving most of it exposed.

“It’s good.” Angel smiled and closed the scissors without checking with Nicky if Nicky agreed.

From the way Nicky worked her jaw while another six inches or so of hair fell to her shoulder, I was pretty sure Nicky did not agree that it was a good length.  It was too late to do much about it though.  Some might ask that the rest of their hair be left longer, and try to hide a shorter section with styling, but it would drive Nicky cray knowing it was there.

She just sat there, her jaw clenched as Angel worked, cutting in the choppy layers.  They were taking a lot off the front, the longest bits of the layers just barely touching the tops of Nicky’s ears.  I bit my lip as I watched the damp black locks rain down heavily onto the cape that covered Nicky.

When they got to the back, it was only a very small percentage of the hair in the back that they were not taking significant length off of.  By the time they finally put down the scissors, only a thin bit at the very back reached the collar of the cape, the resst of the layers were much shorter.

“Do something dramatic with the styling.” Nicky stated when angel pulled out a hairdryer and plugged it in.  “Something that will show off your skills.”

I was a little surprised Nicky still cared to see what Angel could do, I had assumed that at this point we knew we weren’t hiring Angel.  Sure they had shown off plenty of technical skill, but they’d also cut Nicky’s hair to a length they hadn’t checked and confirmed with Nicky.  When ever I cut Nicky’s hair, I confirmed verbally first “one inch, right?” Then held up the ends and checke “here, right?” as I pinched the spot I plnned to cut it to with my fingers.  Finally, before I actually took that first snip, I  pressed the comb into where the hair was going to reach, confirmed “ok?” and paused for a moment for her to object before I actually cut.  I did the same with all my long haired clients.

“OK,” Angel said, “I’ll do a pompadour.”

Angel then indeed did do a rather impressive pompadour, using just the right amount of product to get the hair to stay up, without turning it into a brick wall.  When they were done, I was still impressed with their skill, but not convinced we should hire them.  But since Nicky was still sitting patiently as Angel took a few finishing snips.

“What do you think?”  Angel asked enthusiastically as they took the cape off of Nicky while dusting her with a big fluffy brush.

“Craig was absolutely right about your skill level.”  Nicky said with just a hint of irony.  “You certainly just go for it the way Craig always encouraged us to.  I remember him telling me gruffly to relax and saying ‘it’s hair it grows back.’  Then I pointed out that it was a manikin head that I’d had to pay for and its hair was not going to grow back.”

Nicky sighed and rubbed her hand over the spot at the bottom of one of the side cuts where it faded into her skin.  Then she looked at me expectantly with a wrinkled brow.  

“As Nicky said, your skills are superb, and you seem to have good hygiene habits, but…  I’m a little concerned about how you communicated with your client.”  I said.  “This wasn’t quite what I was expecting from what you said you were going to do.  I don’t think it was what Nicky expected either.”

“Oh?”  Angel looked confused and looked down at Nicky who nodded that what I said was true.  Angel’s expression fell with disappointment.

“It’s ok,” Nicky said.  “What would you call this?

“It’s kind of a mullet…” I said.

“Mohawk?” Nicky suggested.

“MULLET-HAWK.”  Angel stated confidently.

I simply nodded, then pushed myself up out of the chair.  “Nicky and I are going to go have a little talk, can you excuse us for a few minutes.

 

——————————————————————-

 

While I closed the door to the backroom, Nicky opened the door to the bathroom and planted herself in front of the mirror.  She didn’t look pissed, or even all that unhappy, maybe shocked, but I wasn’t really sure.  I was wondering if it all just hadn’t sunk in yet.

“Would you call this a medium length, or short?”  she asked me.

I wanted to say medium out of a sense of self preservation.  I had a feeling Nicky was definitely going to be carrying her threat to shave my head out.  Theoretically, I was bigger than her and could just not let her, but all things considered I kind of felt I owed it to her.  It would take four or five times longer for her to grow out the haircut she’d just let Angel give her as it would for me to grow my hair back.  So I took a deep breath and prepared to admit the truth.

“I would call that short on a woman,” I said.  “I think Angel was using the men’s definition of medium.  Not that there’s clearly defined definitions, but obviously I talk to people about their hair a lot so I have noticed a general pattern.   When I talk to women, short means above the shoulders, medium is between the shoulders and bra band, and long is below the bra band.  But when I talk to men, short is above the collar, medium is touching the collar to touching the shoulders, and long is anything below the shoulders.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Nicky sighed, “but now that you say it, I know what you mean about there being a guy version of medium and a women’s version.  So I have the guy version of medium.”

“Looks like it,” I admitted.  “That would be touching the collar if you were wearing a button down instead of a tank top.”

Nicky, tugged at the choppy layers next to the right sidecut.  “I also had thought Angel was going to leave me enough on top so I could cover the sidecuts when I felt like it.  My cousin’s wedding is in 3 weeks.”

“So I guess you don’t think we should hire Angel?”

“I think we should hire them.”  Nicky said as she brushed her hands over the sides of her head.

“What?”  I was confused.

“Ok, yeah this isn’t what I thought I was agreeing to, but it is exceedingly well executed.”  Nicky explained.  “It’s technically perfect, very creative…”

“Sure but communication and reading your clients is at least as important if not more so than technical skills.”  I pointed out.  “I mean you would have never asked for that.  You didn’t even want a haircut at all and were pretty clear from the start you wanted to keep it long.  I’m not sure how this came of that.  You would never have asked for that in a million years.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have asked for it.” Nicky said a bit softly, turning her head back and forth again.

“I’ll try to make the grow out as painless as possible.” I promised her as the person who had been responsible for cutting her hair for the last few months.  “I can blend the sides in in a few months.  Then if you want, we could do extensions.”

“I don’t think I want to grow it out,”  Nicky said in a slightly cautious tone as she felt the completely smooth skin on her neck.

“But you said you would never have asked for it,” I pointed out the contradiction.

“I never asked for my first Barbie.”  Nicky stated, as I leaned against the wall and settled in to listen, because I had a feeling this might be a long story.  “Remember Rosa, she came and visited about a month ago, my childhood friend who moved out to the west coast?”

“Yeah, I remember her,” I chuckled, thinking of the energetic outgoing straight woman who’d come to Nicky’s mom’s house, then gone with us to the gay bar, taking Nicky, me, and Bill out onto the dance floor in turns till we were all completely exhausted.  “She’s a bit hard to forget.”

“I had never ever wanted a doll growing up.  Not baby dolls when I was little, no dolls.  Occasionally, Grandma would give me one, and I would just pass them along to one of my sisters.” Nicky explained turning away from the mirror finally.  “But then Rosa’s family moved here.  Rosa, was the one who was Barbie obsessed.  My mom bought me a Barbie just so that when Rosa was playing Barbies, I would have one too.  And well you know how that went, you’ve seen my curio cabinet full of Barbies.

“Sometimes you don’t know you want a gift till after you get it.” Nicky segwayed from talking about her friend to explaining her thoughts on her hair.  “I wouldn’t have asked for this.  Anytime I imagined anything this length, I thought of things that were either too girly or would make me look like a guy.  Or at the very least like a middle aged mom who was just too tired and busy for the long hair she’d rather have.  But this is none of those.  This is something I would never have imagined, but now looking at myself, I just see that maybe this is really who I am.”

“So are you saying that Angel did read you correctly?”  I asked.

“They certainly picked up on something inside me.”  Nicky shrugged and turned back to the mirror.  “I’m still a bit undecided about this.  As much as I can see that it’s probably the haircut that most accurately fits the internal me, I’m not sure I’m ready to be this…”

“Out?” I guessed.

“Yeah.” Nicky sighed.  “This is a bit like walking around in my underwear.  Walking around in my underwear that has ‘I’m gay’ printed all over it  Letting the whole world see what I usually keep private.  I mean people are going to stare and have opinions of this.  It is really well done though.”

“I’ve still got concerns about Angel’s communication ability.”  I said as I tried to get us back to the topic at hand.

“Oh definitely.” Nicky agreed.  “We can work on that though.  We can hire them as an apprentice for now, and one of us can just make sure everyone is on the same page before Angel picks up their clippers.”

 

———————————- 2023 ————————

 

“So, did Nicky shave your head?”  Kal asked me, sounding amused.

“She decided that since she only hated the reactions from her family about getting such a drastic haircut right before her cousin’s wedding, and not the actual haircut, she would let Rachel have the honor of shaving it.”  

“Nicky’s whole family hated it?”  Kal asked.

“According to Nicky, mostly her grandmother.” I clarified.  “She said one of her sister’s thought it was terrible, and the other rolled her eyes practically to the back of her head.  Supposedly two of her brother’s just laughed when they saw it, and the other didn’t notice.  She said her mom was really supportive the way she always is.” 

“So, what was it like having your head shaved?”  Kal asked, with an extra edge of curiosity.  “Did Rachel have fun doing it?”

“Nicky and Rachel Made a whole event of it.”  I ran my hand through my hair that hit just around collar length remembering the soft stubble, which had felt so different.  “They invited Bill, and Rachel’s wife, and the girl Nicky was dating to watch it happen in Nicky;s mom’s basement.  Then Nicky served barbeque, her mom joined us and made a few dishes.  It went on late into the night.  I’m glad she let Rachel do it, because Rachel just took it down to zero clipper blade length, Nicky would have pulled out the razor blade.”

“You make Nicky sound like a hot head, but you work with her.”

I chuckled, because Kal had a good point.  “Most of the time, she’s pretty good about just giving clients what they want.”

“Most of the time?”  

“She has moments,” I admitted ryely.  “One time, gad.  So I had this client who was the girlfriend of one of Nicky’s clients who was also one of Nicky’s exgirlfriends, do not ask me to explain lesbian drama.   So, this client of mine had hair nearly down to her butt, I would trim an inch of split ends off it every 4 months or so.  Well her hair was this particular shade of strawberry blonde.  The thing was that it happened to be the exact shade I needed for extensions I was doing on a bullied transgirl who was about to start at a new school and everyone thought things would go better at the new school if she looked like a girl.  I had complained to Nicky on Saturday about how I was having a hard time dying them, and mentioned that I wished it wouldn’t have been unprofessional to ask my strawberry blonde client to donate a foot.  Tuesday morning I come in and there’s this bundle of super long strawberry blonde hair just waiting on the counter in front of my chair, way more than a foot.”

“Really?”  Kal’s eyes were wide with awe, “She didn’t?”

“Yep” I nodded.  “She did.”

“How?”

“Something about Nicky’s ex having traded my client’s hair for a favor from Nicky.”  I shook my head having forgotten the details Nicky told me in a moment when I was way too angry to pay attention.  “I didn’t talk to her for two days.”

“Did you ever hear from your client again?”

“Oh, yeah.”  I assured Kal, “she didn’t blame me.  She even only sort of blamed Nicky, she said it was mostly her own fault.  So she still comes to me to get it shaped while it grows back.  Obviously not very frequently.  We’ve got it down to around her shoulders now.  I figure it’s going to be a pretty long time before I see her again, since I cut it blunt last time so it’s not really going to need shaping.  I figure it’ll be at least six months, maybe more, before the split ends get bad enough for her to be willing to give up length.”

I sighed, and looked down at my watch.  My lunch hour was over, and I needed to get back to the shop.  I pulled my wallet out and started counting cash.

“Listen, I need to get back to the shop.”  I told Kal as I put enough down on the table that it should cover my half of the bill plus a decent tip.  “If you want to, come by at closing time, and I can take care of you.  I know Angel and Nicky usually do the masc thing, but as long as you don’t want complicated design work, I think I can handle it.”

“Actually,”  Kal smiled, “after the stories you told, I’m a bit terrified of going to either Nicky or Angel. I think I’ll take you up on that.”

“I may have made them sound worse than they really are,”  I chuckled.

 

———————————————————————————————-

 

Mike was at the door turning the lock when Kal arrived.  Kal talked to Mike for a second and Mike let Kal in.  Kal gave me a little wave as he took a seat in the waiting area.  Since my hands were occupied with a curling iron, I just gave Kal a nod, acknowledging his presence.  

I simply went back to the task at hand, releasing the curl before I accidently burned the hair, giving it a quick twist to hold it while it cooled.  I chatted with my last official client of the day, as the closing salon bustled around me.  A few of us were near finishing up clients, Tom was still blow drying his last client, Angel was shaving the bottom of a fade still, but others were still in the middle of their tasks.  

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Mike came over to talk to my client, like he usually did once the last client scheduled had entered the salon.  “I was just wondering, are you going to be paying with cash or using a card?  I was just wondering if I could close out the cash drawer?”

“I’m going to be paying with a card.”  My client assured Mike with a smile.

“What about your friend?” Mike asked me.

I looked over at Kal.  I had said staying late was a favor, and I didn’t mind giving up my own commision.  But doing things here even after hours cost the salon overhead, electricity, water, etc.  I did own half this place though.

“Don’t worry Mike,”  I said.  “You can close out everything, when you’re ready.  I’ll take care of it.”

Mike gave me a nod, then walked off as I began to brush out the artificial looking too perfect ringlets transforming them into soft natural looking waves.  I looked over at Kal. 

Kal sat, looking uncomfortable.  I remembered him just never wanting to do anything with his hair when we were teenagers.  When I could talk him into letting me do anything with his hair, he didn’t want to look in the mirror after.   At the time I had interpreted it as a lack of confidence.  I thought he just didn’t see how pretty he was, like so many teen girls.  Of course I now understood that for Kal it was something else.

I gave my client a light coating of hair spray, and took the cape off her.  I said the usual friendly goodbyes and walked up front with her before sending her off to settle up with Mike.

“Hey Kal,” I smiled and greeted him in the waiting area.  “Are you ready?”

“I guess.” Kal said, but not really sounding ready.  “I had kind of hoped the place would be empty when you were ready for me.”

I looked around, there were still a few clients here and there, and staff had only just started cleaning up.  It was going to be over a half hour before we could expect privacy.

“Is your hair clean,” I asked him, “or is there product in it I have to wash out?”

“Product? Like hairspray?” Kal chuckled and gave me a look.  “What do you think?  I washed it with a two-in-one this morning, let it air dry, and put it in a ponytail.”

“Okey.”  I smiled, amused at how little had changed even though so much had changed.  “We have a backroom.  Let me just check and make sure it is free.”

I walked over to Nicky, who was wiping down her mirror.  She’d grown and changed so much since Angel had given her the now gone mullet hawk.  Over the years the tatoos had multiplied, coming down her arms, eventually even onto her hands, they’d also gone up her neck.  She no longer could hide them easily just with clothing, like she had when we first opened the shop, now if she needed to hide them it involved heavy makeup.  

The woman who’d had hair down to her tailbone a decade ago, now had no hair longer than about an inch and a half, which was only the bit right at the front that she styled into a quiff.  She’d even had it even shorter briefly, buzzed down to a 1 ½ blade. Nicky had admitted to me that she’d had to ask Angel to do it to fix something her then girlfriend, now wife, had done.  She was totally confident and happy with the sharp clean masculine look.  She still leaned androgynous, even if her hair read as masc.

I put my hand on her shoulder, “hey.  Is the back room free?”

“I need it at 9 o’clock,” Nicky informed me.  “I have Mistress Cathrine coming to teach a  shibari class tonight.”

“I should be done before that.”   I said, I looked over at Kal, remembering that Mike had wanted to schedule him with Angel or Nicky.  “Oh, and to help get me out of there on time, can I just borrow the clippers and trimmer you keep back there so I don’t have to drag mine back?”

Like Nicky, I had a drawer back there that I kept a basic set of tools in.  Unlike Nicky, I didn’t think of clippers as part of the basics.

“Don’t touch the razor.”  Nicky grumbled at me.

“Don’t worry.” I chuckled at my gruff partner.  “I know my limits.”

 

———————————————————————————-

 

“This place is weird.”  Kal observed as I closed the door behind us, and he looked around the room with dark colors and victorian accents that my assistant always complained gave her the creeps.

“Nicky decorated it.”  I said, without going into details about her side business, then I asked Kal.  “So, what’s the plan?” 

“Just cut it all off.”  Kal said.  He sounded like he was trying to sound like he didn’t care, but he was failing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” I pointed out.  “I know a lot of trans guys do, but your hair doesn’t define your gender.  Even if you are sure you want to go short eventually, we can ease into it.”

“I know guys in general don’t have to,” Kal sighed.  “I kind of have to though.  Remember how bald my dad was?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. 

“Remember my grandfather and both my uncles from my mom’s side of the family at graduation?”

I remembered the group, all sporting shiney domes surrounded by a horse shoe of fluff.  I suspected I knew where Kal was going.  I nodded.

“You should see my little brother these days.”  Kal chuckled.  “He looks like a ping-pong ball with a beard.”

“You think you’re going to go bald.”  I guessed.

“That errand that caused me to pass by the shop this morning; it was to see my doctor.  I started testosterone.”  He explained.  “When she was going over side effects, she told me with my family history, male pattern baldness is pretty much guaranteed.”

“It isn’t like chemo,” I pointed out.  “It’s gradual, you don’t have to rush.”

“I’d rather not be thinking about it constantly.”  Kal said.  “Checking it and trying to decide when it’s time.”

“If you want, you can use minoxidil.” I said making sure Kal knew he had options.  

“I’d rather just go bald than be tied to extra medication.”  Kal said, sounding genuine enough, I believed him.  “It’s annoying enough that I can’t just make T naturally.”

“If you’re sure,” I said as I started taking tools from my drawer, then borrowing a few from one of Nicky’s drawers.  “Hop on into the chair.”

Kal took a deep breath and walked over to the chair.  He climbed up into it, pulling his long ponytail forward over his shoulder.  He gave it a quick last pet, and took out the elastic.  He swung the long locks back, they hung over the back of the antique barber chair all the way down the back rest to the bottom of the seat.

I grabbed a fresh cape from the wardrobe, making sure it was a normal one, and not one of Nicky’s special ones.  I had it draped over my arm, as I lifted up the mass, noticing how the ends tapered off naturally.

“Looks like you haven’t gotten this cut since we were in highschool.”  I observed.

“You remember how much I always hated getting it done.”  Kal said, looking at the mirror a bit unhappily. 

“I remember the fight you had with your mom before graduation.”  I reminisced as swung the cape over Kal, covering the baggy clothing that only somewhat obscured a still rather feminine frame, thenI twisted the soft bundle and put it in front of his shoulder.  “You saying that it didn’t matter what you wore under the graduation robe so why couldn’t you just wear a track suit and be comfortable.  But she won, you had to wear a pretty dress, and she dragged you to the beauty parlor to get a nice haircut, because it was time for you to grow up and look like a lady.”

 

————————————- 2004 ————————-

 

I remembered the haircut in question, the length had been brought up to just a couple of inches below Kal’s shoulders, but that wasn’t what had really bothered Kal, it had been the layers in the front that he couldn’t pull back into a ponytail.  

My plan had been to just leave when his mom had dragged him away, but his dad had roped me into helping with a car repair, using it as an opportunity to discuss my future with his daughter Katrina.  It had been rather uncomfortable, I’d already talked with Kal and we knew we had no future.  We were just friends who wanted to keep up appearances.  

I was there in the driveway holding a wrench, when Kal’s mom pulled in.  Kal got out of the car, slamming the door hard behind him.  His hair was cut into the dramatic layers around his face that was the style at the time.  It looked like it had been flat ironed too.  He looked pissed as he stomped towards the house, his arms crossed over the kind of baggy t-shirt he usually wore over one of the tight flat sports bras he prefered.  

“Katrina, stop being so sulky, it looks nice,”  Kal’s mother chastised him.  “Klaus is still here, come show him your new hairstyle.  I’m sure he will think you look pretty.”

Kal ignored her, walking into the house.

“Kat you’re being impolite,” his mom yelled.  “Come show Klaus.”

I suddenly felt 10 times more uncomfortable than I had while talking with Kal’s dad.  I had a feeling Kal felt even worse than I did though.

“I’ll go talk to Kat, Mrs. Nelson,” I offered returning the wrench to the tool box.  “I’ll see if I can cheer her up.”

“Thanks Klaus.”  Kal’s mom said.  “I’m sure hearing how pretty she is will mean more coming from you than it does from me.”

I found him in the bathroom, his head bent down into the sink with the water running.  When he heard me enter, he stood up, the hair that had been neatly styled just moments earlier a wet tangled mess.  He looked at me briefly, then back at the mirror.  He looked like a half drowned rat.

“I came to tell you you look pretty.”  I said not knowing how to make Kal feel better, not knowing he was Kal and thinking he was a girl named Kat, who was supposed to want to look pretty.

Kal looked away from the mirror, fell into my arms, and just started sobbing against my shoulder.  

“I don’t want to look pretty,” he said. “I want to look like me.”

I didn’t understand what he meant, I’m not sure he understood what he meant at the time, so I just said the soothing thing one says to a sad person when you don’t know what else to say.  “Shhhhhhh, It’s going to be ok.”

“I wish you weren’t leaving in a couple of months.” Kal told me.

“I need space to figure things out.”  I said again.  “Are you sure you want to stay here?”

“I know you don’t care about going to college,” he said, “but I do.”

Kal’s parents would pay his college tuition, but only if he commuted while living at home and got a part time job.  They felt dorms were not safe places for girls.

 

—————————— 2003 ————————————————-

 

“My last haircut, was about a week after you moved away,” Kal told me, “I was preparing for a job interview the next day, putting what I needed in the laundry, and mom was fussing that I had to get that haircut I hated trimmed before the interview so I would look more professional.  I said no, repeatedly.  When she wouldn’t drop it, I finally got so angry I just chopped my hair all off.”

“All off?”  I asked, because that didn’t mean the same thing to everyone, as I fasten the cape.

“I grabbed a random pair of scissors from the junk drawer, locked myself in the bathroom and cut everything as close to the scalp as I could with them.  Needless to say, it was an uneven mess because they were dull.”  He told me.  “When my mom finally managed to pick the lock and found me just sitting on the floor crying with the hair all over the sink and floor, she thought I was crying because I looked like I had a guy’s haircut.  I didn’t know how to tell her I was crying because even with a guy’s haircut, I still looked like a girl.”

“I’m sorry I left.”  I said, wishing I could have been there to comfort that miserable 18 year old, and wrapped my arm around him.  “I should have stayed.”

“No, you’ve built a great life for yourself here.”  Kal patted my arm.   “It wouldn’t have  actually been better for me.  We’d have been pressured to get married.  My dad would have given you a job at his garage.  As soon as I graduated college they’d have been asking about us having kids, and you know how little desire I had to get pregnant.  You’d have just been trapped in a loveless marriage with me.”

“It’s not like I didn’t love you.”  I reminded him.

“You didn’t love me the way you love Bill though, did you?”  Kal pointed out.

Admitting that truth felt sort of mean, but something about Kal’s tone told me he didn’t mind, so I shook my head.  Kal was a dear friend, I loved him the way I love Nicky, and Mike, and Angel, and Rachel, and my sister, and many more… Bill was the love of my life.  I enjoyed seeing my friends, I felt empty when I went too long without seeing Bill.

“Being married, having kids, going to church every sunday.  It would have just ended up breaking our friendship.  We would have ended up hating each other in five or ten years.”  Kal insisted.  “I wasn’t ready to understand and accept who I am.  I just needed a bit more time before I was ready to leave than you did.”

I nodded, and said  “The important thing is you’re here now.”

Kal smiled and nodded.  I gave him a pat on the shoulder, and pulled his long hair back behind him.

“Ok,” I tried to get back to why Kal was here sitting in a barber chair.  “When you say ‘cut it all off’ you mean what exactly?”

“Like really short, but not quite shaved,  I feel like shaved will just make me look like a woman who is sick or something.”  Kal said.  “Shorter than yours.  I guess maybe like that receptionist out front.”

“Mike’s got a three on the top and two on the sides these days.”  I explained to Kal, who just looked confused by the clarification, but nodded anyway.

“But not dyed teal.”  He said,  “And just get it over quickly, so I don’t get my hopes up too much thinking I’m going to actually look like a man.  I know I’m still going to look like a woman when you’re done.  I know I’m not going to start looking like a guy for several more months, but can you try as best you can.”

“Of course.”  I said, thinking about how I would pretty much aim to do the opposite of what I normally did.  I would square everything off instead of trimming things into soft delicate shapes.  He was right though, no matter how masc I made his hair, he was going to look like a woman until the testosterone he’d just started taking pushed him through his second puberty.

“I know it seems weird that I kept my hair so long, but I just never liked thinking about it.”  Kal explained.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”  I assured him.

“A lot of people act like I do.”

“Right here and now you don’t have to think about them.”  I reaffirmed, then asked.  “Do you want to save the ponytail?”

“I don’t care,” he blew off the question at first, but then thought.  “You want the hair for extensions for transwomen?”

“Thank you.” I said.  “Not having to buy the hair helps me keep the cost down.“

“Ok.” Kal smiled.

I went and rummaged through the drawer for a moment and found an elastic to use.  Normally, I would put the hair into multiple ponytails to preserve as much length as possible when I cut it off, but since Kal had asked me to get it over with as quickly as possible, I would just do one.  I ran my comb swiftly through the hair to the ends, wishing a quick trim of the split end before I took the ponytail was an option, but I wasn’t going to torture Kal making him stand and watch as I did a slow careful trim.  Then I pulled it into the elastic.  With the long bundle of hair pulled back, I went and grabbed my scissors.

I noticed Kal had just closed his eyes as I had pulled his hair back.  I decided to just let him ignore what was happening and zone out, so I didn’t bother to engage in the usual chit-chat.

I raised the sharp blades to the base of the long ponytail.

Shrutch-shruntch-shruntch-shruntch-shhhhnap

I held the long bundle aloft, Kal’s hair fell forward in a messy aline bob.  I placed the bundle of hair off to the side, not in Kal’s direct line of sight if he happened to open his eyes.

Normally, I would fluff the bob forward at this point, and evaluate how the hair was falling.  I might check in with my client and see if they still wanted to go really short, or if they had changed their mind and were feeling the bob.  Kal looked like he was wearing a do not disturb sign though, so I was just going to keep going while he kept his eyes closed.

I was pretty sure he really didn’t want to see himself with the bob anyway,  It definitely looked even more femme than the basic ponytail he had walked in with.

I started just chopping off the hair that hung just around his still narrow and smoothly stubble free jawline.  I combed the hair in thicker sections than usual, and cut the hair off against my fingers.  I watched the four or five inches of loose hair rain down onto the cape.  

Then I combed up more and cut again.  I was cutting quick and somewhat carelessly.  It amused me that it was still coming out rather evenly as I just hacked away, I guess I just was so in the habit of making things even that it was when I had a reason not to that I actually had to think about it.  I really was just trying to get rid of bulk to make the real haircut I would do with Nicky’s clippers easier.  His hair was looking darker as the lighter sunbleach length fell to the floor. 

The silence was filled with the soft sound of the sharp blades gliding through the strands.  I worked swiftly around his head, not worrying over what the perimeter looked like.  Occasionally a pushed the growing mounds of hair towards the base of the chair with my toe, so that I wouldn’t trip and fall.

I had reduced the hair to a slightly messy version of my length, just brushing the collar.  It was plenty short enough that the clippers should just glide through without getting stuck.  So I took a deep breath, and walked over to the counter to put my scissors down.  

It was time to use Nicky’s clippers.  I picked them up, and snapped the number 3 guard onto them.  They were heftier and better balanced than mine.  They simply felt more serious and professional.  I flicked the switch, they popped loudly to life, emphasizing the stronger motor than what was in my clippers.  The strong vibrations felt good against my hand.

I thought for a moment about double checking with Kal before I started shearing him like a sheep, but he looked almost meditative.  I combed the shortened hair back off his forehead, and placed the humming clippers in front of the hairline that hadn’t started retreating yet, but would soon.

I pulled back, the humming changed tone slightly as the dark blond hair slid off his head to his shoulders.  I ended the stroke at Kals crown, lifting the clippers away.  Left behind was a strip of bristles that reminded me of a razed corn field at the start of winter.

I placed the clippers back at his hairline, and pulled them back again, carefully overlapping the previous strip.  I worked carefully now, unlike earlier, since at this point I was cutting the hair to what would be the finished length on the top.

Kal was looking less relaxed as I pulled the clippers across his scalp a third time, the patch of bristles becoming several inches wide.  his eyes more scrunched closed than just resting.

“How you doing there?”  I asked him.

“It’s surprisingly hard to keep your eyes shut sometimes,”  He informed me.

“Want me to turn the chair away from the mirror?” I offered.

“Yeah.  Thanks.”

At the end of the stroke, I spun the chair.  Facing it towards the shadow boxes filled with the strange artifacts that Nicky loved.  I found myself wishing we had a TV or something back here.  Kal was not my only client who didn’t like watching themselves in the mirror at moments like this.  Especially the clients I tended to bring back here.

It was harder to see Kal’s face, but from what I could see, he seemed to have relaxed a bit, and opened his eyes.

I kept buzzing away what was left of the once terminal length hair.  On the sides, I was a little less careful than I had been on the top, since I was about to go over it again with another guard.  Just cropping the hair around his ears roughly.

I paused, to switch the guard on the clippers.  I  clicked them on and looked over my shoulder at Kal, who was looking down at the lumps of hair in his lap.

“How ya feeling?”  I asked him.

“I’m honestly not sure.”  Kal admitted.  “Sort of happy and scared all at the same time.  A whole bunch of other feelings in there, all jumbled together.”

“Well, it will be done soon.”  I promised him.

I stood behind him, and tilted his head down. I began taking the bristles down another eigth of an inch.  This Time being careful and methodic again, making sure I got all the hair behind his ears nice and uniform.  Then blending the top to the sides at the parietal ridge.  The hair falling as I worked little more than dust.

I turned off the clippers.  I felt my ears relax and my hand tingle.  I wondered how Nicky and Angel put up with that day after day.

I ran my hand briefly over the short brush of hair.  Feeling how even it seemed.  It felt good, so I put the clippers back down on the counter.

I picked up the trimmer with its very fine blade that would leave only the slightest stubble.  I turned on the whiney little machine.  My instinct was to just start cleaning up the sparse baby hairs, but that wasn’t the look I was going for.  Instead, I started pushing the blades straight into the hair, a bit above the natural hairline, more like I would usually do with a particularly short bob.  Then I dragged the blades down Kal’s neck, shaving away everything below the new precise hairline I was creating.  I made a tight square corner behind each ear, and a clean arch around his ear.  Instead of giving his sideburns points I made them square as well, trying to imitate the way a man ended where he shaved his beard, even though Kal wouldn’t start shaving for a few more months at least.

The haircut was basically done, I spent a few minutes touching up the details.  I wetted the top just enough to make the line where the long hair had parted disappear.  I trimmed very slightly with my scissors, catching anything that had escaped the clippers, and giving a very slight bevel to the hairline.  I finally used the hair dryer, to dry the just barely damp hair and blow away stray bits.

“Do you want to look?”  I checked with Kal as I took the cape off.

“Yeah, I guess.”  He took a deep breath as I turned the chair back to face the mirror.

He smiled, as his eyes started looking a bit wet.  He tilted his head, and raised his hand to feel his bristly haircut.  I grabbed the hand mirror, and held it up behind him.  His fingers traced along the hairline, and rubbed the stubble.

“Thanks Klaus.”  He said with a catch in his voice that spoke of nearly overwhelming emotion.  “I know a lot of people are still going to look at me and see a woman, but this is the closest I have looked to the way I feel like I should so far.  It’s absolutely perfect.” 

“I’m glad your happy,” I said.  “If you want to keep it this short, you’re going to have to come in pretty regularly.  At least once a month.  Bill just has a standing appointment with Nicky every other week.”

“When I start going bald, will it slow down so I don’t need to deal with it as often?”  Kal asked with a casualness that confused me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try minoxidil?” I asked him.

“I know this sounds weird,” Kal shrugged, “because obviously, it took me a bit to figure everything out, but I always just kind of assumed I’d be going bald like all the other men in my family.  It really doesn’t bother me.  It’s just a part of being a guy, you know?”

I shrugged back, because I didn’t really know.

 

——————————————————————————-

 

I walked in the door being immediately greated by an excited goldendoodle with her wagging tail held high and her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth.  I scratch behind her ears, as I watch Bill following behind.  Bill’s happiness to see me was a touch more subtle, but I it warmed me to my core anyway.

“Hey babe.” he said as he gave me a passionate kiss.

“Do you have any idea of how much I love you?” I asked him.  “Do you know how much of the life I have built, you made possible.”

“I love you too.”  Bill said wrinkling his brow, “Did something happen today?  Something about why you had to stay late at work?”

I sighed and nodded.  We would talk about it over dinner.

 

———————————————————————————————

 

I had just finished brushing my teeth, and was looking at the mirror of the medicine cabinet.  I sighed, and brushed the hair that swept over my forehead back.  The hairline looked the same as it had yesterday, just a bit further back and a touch thinner than it had been when I was a teenager.

I hadn’t noticed it was happening till Rachel had buzzed my hair down to stubble.  I probably should have been aware of it.  My dad hadn’t been very bald, but my grandfather on my mother’s side was.  I asked Rachel if she thought I was going bald, and she just said she thought I knew.

I let the hair flop back down to where it brushed my eyebrows, then opened the medicine cabinet.  I took out the orange plastic bottle of pills, and l looked at it, turning it in my hand.  Most nights, I just popped the pill and didn’t think about it. Tonight, I just kept looking at the bottle in my hand.

My doctor had been reluctant to prescribe them.  He’d suggested just using one of the topicals, but I knew it was less effective.

“Hey?”  said as Bill came into the bathroom, he stood behind me, and wrapped his muscular arms around my waist. We were both just in our boxer shorts, ready for bed, so I felt his chest against my back.  “What’s wrong?”

“What would you think if I was bald?” I asked Bill gravely.

“I would think that I was lucky to be married to the sexiest bald man ever.”  Bill smiled at me, brushing his fingers through my hair.  “I thought you took those pills for you, not for me.”

“Yeah, I do.”  I confirmed.  “I’m just not sure if I still want to.”

I turned the bottle again, and watched the four pills in it tumble through the transparent plastic that colored them brownish.

“You can take them for as long as you want, or stop anytime you want?”  Bill assured me.  “It’s totally up to you.”

I nodded and turned the bottle over again.  I opened it up and poured the four pills out into my hand.  I then put three back.

“I’m going to finish off this bottle,” I announced, before I popped the pill into my mouth then took a swig from the glass of water next to the sink.  “I might as well finish up this bottle, and it gives me a few days to think about it instead of just making the decision impulsively.  Then I’ll decide whether or not I want to renew it.”

I put the bottle back in the cabinet, and closed it.  When the door clicked closed, I saw the reflection of Bill’s chiseled jaw resting on my shoulder. his dark eyes looking into the reflection of my blue ones.  He smiled at me, I smiled back.

6 responses to “Klaus: An Origin Story”

  1. You always craft such amazing stories! Every time I read something of yours it inspires me to spend more time on character development in my own work. You did a great job writing from the male perspective, it all felt very believable. As a cis male I often write from the female perspective and I like to treat it as a challenge, but I think you carried your challenge out better than I normally do!

  2. Ginger,
    I never much believed in cosmic connections, but while I read this I couldn’t help but wonder. Absolutely fantastic story, and so well written. I normally get dizzy with timeline shifts, but you managed them with a degree of finesse which made each meld into a single connective braid of ideas. I know that the Curse of the Cut is pure fantasy, but I can imagine how you reacted when you read it, having just written this. I love your writing, as you know, and in exploring outside of your experience you have shown just what an amazing author you truly are.
    Claire

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