Magda Becomes Maggie

Magda Becomes Maggie

This story is about a brave young woman named Magda. Her parents belonged to a fundamentalist sect that forbade dancing, playing cards, smoking, and drinking.  Young people, especially the girls, were closely supervised.  Dating was not allowed and all marriages were arranged by church elders.  By age eighteen most girls were wed to men ten, twenty, or more years older and were expected to start bearing children immediately.

Magda attended public schools until she was thirteen, but her ankle length dresses and the hair covering she wore set her apart from the other girls. They teased her unmercifully.  Finally, her parents decided to withdraw her from school and continue her education at home.  Despite the harassment she endured at school, Magda had earned excellent grades.  She was bright and read anything she could get her hands on.  Her mother was hard pressed to find new academic challenges for her daughter, so she allowed her weekly trips to the public library.  Magda loved these excursions, one of the few unsupervised activities she was allowed.  She soon learned to disguise the romance novels she devoured by substituting jackets of books about crafts and nutrition.  She often daydreamed about escaping her restrictive community and traveling to some of the far-off destinations she had read about.

A week before her seventeenth birthday, Magda overheard her mother on the phone discussing a marital match with a well-to-do church member.  He was a widower with four small children who was negotiating to make Magda his bride.  She knew the man’s reputation as a domineering bully who intimidated his first wife while she was alive and never showed any affection toward the five offspring she bore him.  Unless she acted quickly, she would be trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to care for a brood of children not her own, and unable to escape from a never-ending cycle of church services and Bible study classes.  That was not the life she imagined for herself.

As much as she respected her father and mother, she knew she had to flee their home before it was too late.  That night she counted the money she had saved from babysitting neighborhood youngsters.  Two hundred and forty-eight dollars.  This amount wouldn’t take her far, she knew, but she couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

The next morning, Magda stuffed a change of clothes and a few toiletries into her backpack and informed her mother she was taking the bus to the library.  Instead of getting off at her usual stop, she continued for another mile until she reached the Greyhound station.  There she purchased a one-way ticket to Seattle.  She believed this city was large enough so her parents would have difficulty tracking her down.

The exhilaration she felt at escaping her small town waned with each mile the bus took her farther from home.  She didn’t have much of a plan.  What would she do when she arrived at her destination?  Where would she live?  How would she support herself?  “God will provide,” she repeated to herself in an unsuccessful effort to quell her fears.

In the lunchroom of the Seattle bus station Magda nibbled on a cheese sandwich as she pondered her next steps.  She decided to walk away from the bustling downtown.   It was growing dark, and she had no idea where she might spend the night.  After walking for an hour, she found herself in an older residential neighborhood.  Ahead she spied a one-story brick building with a familiar red, white, and blue barber pole out front.  Her pace quickened.  This was the place she had been looking for, although she didn’t realize it until this moment.

Magda opened the door of the shop, startling the gray-haired barber who was dozing in his throne-like chair.  “Afternoon miss,” he said, recovering from his surprise.  “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to cut my hair, sir,” she urgently announced.

“I don’t do ladies haircuts,” he informed her.  “There’s a beauty salon a few blocks down.”

“I don’t need a beauty salon,” Magda insisted.  “All I need is for you to cut my hair.”

She ripped off her bandana and started removing the pins that secured the fat bun at the base of her neck.  The barber stared in open-mouthed amazement as a cascade of dark brown hair tumbled down her back nearly to her knees.  He had seen pictures of women with hair hanging past their butts, but he never had a Lady Godiva lookalike come into his shop begging to have her hair cut.

“Sorry, miss,” he stammered, “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

But Magda would not be dissuaded.   She walked to the counter where he kept his barbering tools and seized a pair of scissors.  “If you won’t do it for me, I’ll do it myself,” she declared in a quivering voice.

“No need to do that, miss,” the barber quickly assured her.  “If you are so all-fired determined to get your hair cut, I guess I can help you out.”

“Thank you, sir,” Magda said, handing him the scissors and removing her backpack and denim jacket.

“Your hair’s so long,” the barber observed, still recovering from this unexpected interruption.

“The church I grew up in doesn’t believe that women should cut their hair,” she explained.

“Will I be breaking one of the commandments if I cut you hair?” he asked half-seriously.

“Not one of the Ten Commandments that God gave to Moses,” she replied with the conviction of one who had spent years studying the Old and New Testaments.  “It may be a man-made commandment, but I am not bound by those anymore.”

“Making a clean break with your past, are you?” he continued.

“Yes, you might say that,” she acknowledged.  “Shall I sit up there?” she asked, pointing to the vacant barber’s chair.

“Nope.  With hair as long as yours, it’s best that I cut it while you’re standing.  You just hold still while I brush out the tangles.”

Magda did as the barber instructed while he groomed her flowing locks.  He had been cutting hair for nearly forty years, but never had he handled a mane like this one—a rich dark brown, thick and healthy, with few split ends.  After five minutes of silent grooming, he paused.  “Where do you want me to cut?”

Magda remembered O’Henry’s short story, “The Gift of the Magi,” where Della sells her hair to buy a Christmas gift for her husband.  “I understand some people buy hair like mine to make wigs.  How much would you have to cut to make a wig?”

“I’m sure eighteen or twenty inches would be enough,” he informed her.

“Okay.  That’s what you should cut.”

“If you let me cut more you could get more,” he suggested.

“Really?”  Magda asked in amazement.

“Yes. The hair buyers pay by the inch.  If I cut here,” he said, indicating a point between her jaw and shoulder, “that would be enough for two wigs, maybe three.  You’d get a good deal more.”

“Wow!  That would be great,” she exclaimed.

“So, you want me to cut there?” he asked.

“Yes, go ahead,” Magda declared with conviction.

“I’ll just fasten this band around your hair to hold it together.  You just hold still.”  Magda stood stiff as a statue while he secured the elastic band forty inches above the ends of her hair.  He could see she was nervous.  “You’ll still have plenty of hair left,” he assured her.

“I’ve never had a haircut,” she confided.  “It’s kinda scary.”

“For me it’s no big deal.  I cut hair all day long.  Your hair is healthy.  It will grow longer in no time.”

“I don’t know that I want it to grow back,” she confided.  “I’ve always wondered what short hair would feel like.”

Sensing an opportunity, the barber spoke.  “After I cut this bunch off, I’ll be happy to trim it into a nice short style.”

“Yes, I think I’d like that,” she answered.

“Sure can,” he agreed.  “But this is going to be a pretty big change.  You sure that’s what you want,” he cautioned.

“Yes, that’s what I want,” she declared decisively.  “Cut it off.”

“You’re the boss,” he said as he readjusted the band holding her long tresses.  “I’ll make the big cut; then I’ll trim it a bit more.”

Magda was in no mood for conversation.  She wanted the barber to begin cutting before she lost her nerve.  “Yes, that will be fine,” she said.  “Just do it quickly.”

The barber began sawing through the bundle of lustrous brown hair.  “Your hair’s so thick.  It’s harder to cut than I thought,” he apologized.  Finally, after severing the last strands, he handed her a fat three-foot-long bundle of hair.  “There you are, miss.”

“My goodness.  My head feels so much lighter,” she exclaimed.

“We’re not done yet, miss,” the barber told her.  “Hop up in the chair so I can even the ends.  I don’t want people saying I did a sloppy job.”

Magda did as she was told.  The barber spread a white cape around her shoulders and aimed a mist of water at her head, thoroughly damping her shortened locks.  “Have you been a barber all your life?” she inquired.

“Pretty much.  I learned barbering while I was in the army.  After my discharge opened this shop.  Been doing it nearly forty years,” he bragged as he combed out her damp locks.

“You don’t usually cut women’s hair, do you?” she continued.

“You’re right; not usually.  I cut my wife’s hair while she was alive, but female customers usually stay away from places like this.”

“I’m sorry—about your wife, I mean.”

“Nancy died last year from cancer of the pancreas.  Doctors couldn’t do much to help.  They eased her pain in the final days, that’s about all.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

Magda’s neatly combed hair hung down, just brushing her shoulders on either side of her head.  “I’ll cut about here,” he said, indicating a spot about an inch above the end of her dark tresses.

“You could cut it some shorter,” she suggested.

“My, my.  Feeling brave, aren’t we?” he commented.   “Show me where I should cut.”

“About here,” she said tentatively, pointing to a spot just below her chin.

“Yeah, that’s gonna look real nice,” he told her.  “You’re gonna look so different.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” she confirmed.

Magda sat in silence as the barber circled the chair, carefully measuring and slicing three-inch pieces from her locks.  Staring at the large mirror opposite the chair, she watched him work.  Only the nervous tapping of her foot betrayed the anxiety she felt.  After he snipped off the last piece, he grabbed a blow dryer and aimed it at her head.  “This is the last step in your big makeover,” he announced.

For the next five minutes the dryer’s high-pitched drone dominated the air inside the small shop.  Magda watched intently as the barber shaped her new hairdo, adding volume and curving the ends under to create a classic bob reaching just below her jaw.  When he was satisfied, he offered Magda a mirror so she could inspect the result. After peering at her new hairdo from different angles, she timidly inquired, “Do you think I would look good with bangs?”

“Yes, indeed.  Some bangs would be just the thing to complete your new look.”

“Then you should go ahead,” she said, handing him the mirror.

Using his comb, the barber pulled down several strands of hair and snipped them off half an inch above her eyebrows.  After putting the scissors down, he handed back the mirror.

“Yes,” Magda cried gleefully. “Now I look like completely different person.”

“We aim to please,” her barber announced.

He unfastened the cape, dumping bits of severed hair onto the floor.   Magda stepped down from the chair and approached the large mirror for a closer view.  The barber held the small mirror behind her head so she could inspect the back.

Magda tossed her head from side to side, laughing when the ends of her hair flew across her face.  “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she happily said to no one in particular.  The barber could see she was delighted with her new image.  “I look so grown up,” she observed.

“Indeed, you do,” the barber agreed.  “I hope that’s what you wanted.”

“Oh, it’s much better than I imagined,” she enthused, impulsively throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek.

“I wish all of my customers were so happy,” he blushed.  A customer had never kissed him before.

“I’m Magda, by the way,” she said, extending her hand.

“And I’m Robert, Robert Voss,” he reciprocated.  “Magda, what kind of name is that?” he inquired.

“I’m named after Mary Magdalene, you know, the woman in the Bible who found the empty tomb on Easter Sunday.”

“I know who you mean.  Don’t recall ever meeting anyone named Magda before.”

“I never much liked the name,” she confided.  “It’s no fun being named after a prostitute, even if she did reform after meeting Jesus.”

“So, I’ll call you Maggie then, if you don’t mind,” Robert proposed.

“Maggie.  Yes, I like that name,” the young woman declared.  “It’s easier to remember and not so strange.  I’m gonna be Maggie from now on.  Magda had long hair, but Maggie likes her hair cut short.”

“Like you’re opening an entirely new chapter,” he noted.

“That’s right.  I am.”  She turned to once again admire her captivating hairstyle in the mirror.  “Yes, I really do love my hair like this.  How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“There’s no charge.  It’s the least I can do for someone who’s turning over a new leaf like you are.”

He handed her the three-foot length of severed hair bound with a rubber band.  Maggie scrutinized it with a dispassionate gaze.  “How much will this bring?” she inquired.

“Quite a bit, I expect.  I don’t buy hair, but I can put you in touch with someone who does,” he informed her.

“How long will that take?”

“A couple of days.  Today’s Saturday.  I should be able to get a price for you no later than Tuesday.”

“What will I do till then?” she asked.

“You’ll just have to wait,” he answered.

“But I have no place to stay,” she blurted out.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the barber inquired.

“No, I just arrived this afternoon from Idaho.”

“Are you running away?”

“I suppose I am,” she confided.  “My parents want to marry me to a man from our church.  His wife died and he has five little kids.  He needs someone to take care of them.  He’s rich and they think he would be a good match for me.”

“And you don’t want to marry him?” he guessed.

“I know my parents want what’s best for me, but when I marry—if I marry—it will be for love, not to please my parents.  Being married to him would be awful.”

“How old are you, miss?”

“Seventeen,” she said, “but I’ll be eighteen next week.”

“So young and all alone in a strange city.  You need a friend.”

“I can take care of myself,” she insisted.  “I’m not afraid to work.  As soon as I find a job, I’ll be fine.”

“But until you do, you need a place to stay.  Perhaps I can help.  It’s about quitting time.  I’ll close up the shop and we can go next door to chat.”

Magda-Maggie had been taught to be suspicious of strangers, but the elderly barber seemed kind and genuinely concerned about her welfare.  She waited patiently while he swept up the clippings from her haircut, switched off the lights, and locked the door.  Then he escorted her to the neat bungalow adjacent to his shop.  Soon they were seated across from each other at his kitchen table, chatting over coffee.  She learned that Robert was sixty-four.  He and his wife, Nancy, married when they were not much older than she was.  After his discharge from the army, they moved to Seattle and he opened his shop.  He had two grown children, a son and a daughter both living in California.  “They’re busy with their careers and their own families.  They visit when they can, but not as often as I’d like,” he revealed.

Maggie sensed he was lonely.  “You could retire and move to California to be closer to them,” she suggested.

“I suppose I could, but what would I do there?  This is my life,” he said, gesturing to his shop.  “My health is good.  I’m not ready to retire.  This is where my friends are.  I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”

They continued chatting for nearly an hour.  “Let me fix you some dinner,” he offered as the clock in the living room struck seven o’clock.

“You’ve been very kind.  I hate to impose,” she said.  “I’d best be going.”

“Nonsense.  I’m a harmless old man living alone.  I’m grateful for the company.  Besides, there’s lots of nasty guys out on the streets who’d love to take advantage of a girl in your situation.  You best stay here tonight.”

Maggie’s parents had warned her about predatory men in the big cities.  While she felt they exaggerated the perils of city life, she realized she was naïve and vulnerable.  So, she accepted Robert’s invitation.

They polished off the simple meal of pork chops, baked potatoes, and green beans he prepared.  Later he washed the dishes while she dried.  “You can stay in the guest bedroom,” he said when the last dishes had been put away.

“Thank you, Robert,” she said gratefully.  Already his house was beginning to feel like home.

“Don’t you think you should call your folks?” he asked after they settled down in front of the television in his living room.  “They must be worried sick.”

“I’ll call them next week after my birthday,” she told him.

“I see.  You’ll be eighteen then, an adult in the eyes of the law.”

“Yes, I don’t want them coming here and snatching me back.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do to support yourself?”

“What I’d really like to do is go to college,” she disclosed.  “But I’ll need some sort of a part-time job to cover my living expenses.”

“You’re in luck on both counts.  Central Community College is on the bus line, just two miles down the road.  Their semester starts in a few weeks.  I can drive you there to register on Monday morning, if you like.  And I’ve needed someone to help me around the shop.  It won’t pay much, but it might be enough.”

Maggie was overwhelmed by Robert’s generosity.  Her first impulse was to refuse, but his offer perfectly met her needs.  In addition, she sensed she would be filling a void in his life.  “This is only a temporary arrangement until I save a little money.  Then I’ll find a place of my own,” she declared.

Sunday morning Robert woke to the delicious aroma of bacon frying.  He found Maggie in the kitchen cooking breakfast.  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she called cheerfully.  “I was afraid I’d have to eat this all by myself.”

As they ate the scrambled eggs she had prepared, Maggie said, “It’s going to be so strange not going to church on Sunday.  It seems like I’ve gone just about every Sunday of my life.”

“You can come to Mass with me if you like,” Robert offered.

“Thank you, Robert.  I’d love to, but I’ve got nothing decent to wear.  That old dress I wore yesterday certainly isn’t proper.  Everyone would stare at me.”

“Perhaps you can find something to wear among Nancy’s things.”

Maggie didn’t expect to find anything suitable in the closet where Robert stored his late wife’s clothing.  Although Nancy was about her size, most of her outfits were “old lady clothes.”  Then Robert pulled out a long-sleeved white silk blouse and a pair of tailored black slacks.  “Here, try these on.  Nancy only wore them once or twice,” Robert said.

Maggie buttoned up the modest blouse and slipped into the slacks.  The waist was too large, but the length was just right.  Robert found a narrow belt to hold them up.  He rummaged in the closet until he found a pair of pumps only half a size too large.

“Women wear slacks to your church?” Maggie asked incredulously.

“Oh yeah.  All the time,” he answered.  “You look great, but there’s just one thing missing.”  He reached on top of the dresser for a gold locket on a thin chain and fastened it around her neck.  “Nancy always wore this.”

“Robert, I can’t wear that,” she protested.

“Please take it.  Nancy would want you to,” he insisted.

Maggie was uncomfortable wearing a dead woman’s clothing and jewelry, but she didn’t want to hurt Robert’s feelings, so she agreed to accompany him to his Catholic Mass.  As he drove to the church he told her, “I’ll introduce you as my niece, my sister’s daughter from Spokane.  That will keep tongues from wagging and make it harder for your folks to track you down.”

Maggie agreed to share in this deception.  She sensed that Robert feared that people would wonder why an elderly widower would be escorting a woman four decades younger than himself.

On Monday, she registered at Central Community College, listing her name as Maggie for the first time, and giving Robert’s address as her home.  Robert wrote a check for the modest tuition, which she promised to repay as soon as she could.  She scheduled morning business classes so she would have her afternoons free to work in the shop.  Then Robert drove her to Nordstrom’s department store in downtown Seattle where they shopped for clothes she could wear to her college classes.  Maggie promptly selected two outfits from the bargain rack, but Robert encouraged her to buy something for every occasion.  “You’ll need a nightgown or pajamas, jeans, and a couple of t-shirts, undergarments, and a dress to wear to church.  We’ll go to the shoe department for sneakers and good shoes to go with that dress.  And don’t forget a raincoat.  It rains all the time here in Seattle.”

Maggie was overwhelmed by his generosity, but Robert insisted he was only doing his Christian duty by helping a traveler in distress.  “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” she promised.

But Robert would not hear of it.  “These are gifts for you. You’ve got your eighteenth birthday this week and you deserve some presents.”

On Tuesday, Jake, the hair buyer, visited the shop, responding to Robert’s call.  He was a stooped little gnome-like man with thick glasses and a nervous laugh.  “I see you been cutting more hair than usual,” he cackled when he saw the skein of dark hair Robert offered.

“Hope he’s going to share some of the cash with you, sweetheart,” Jake said to Maggie.

“She’s getting all of it,” Robert shot back angrily.

“Okay, take it easy, Bobby.  Can’t you take a joke?” Jake opened his wallet and slowly counted out five twenty-dollar bills.

Maggie was about to take the cash, but Robert stopped her.  “That’s not enough and you know it,” he angrily declared.

“Fifty more?” Jake offered hopefully.

“Three hundred or no deal,” the barber insisted.

“Can’t go that high.  Two fifty is the best I can do.”

“You won’t see hair this fine again if you live to be one hundred,” Robert countered.  “If you won’t pay three hundred there’s others who will.”

“All right, already,” Jake replied reluctantly, withdrawing ten more twenties and grudgingly handing them to Robert.  “Never used to be so hard doing business with you,” he grumbled.

“That belongs to Maggie,” Robert directed him.

Jake slowly counted out three hundred dollars and placed the bills in Maggie’s outstretched hand.  “Must be nice having a sugar daddy looking out for you.  Don’t spend it all in one place, honey,” he sneered as he shuffled toward the door.

“What a horrid little man,” Maggie said after the hair buyer had exited.

“Takes all kinds,” Robert opined.  “Jake’s not so bad; you just got to know how to deal with him.”

 

On Wednesday, Robert explained Maggie’s duties in the shop.  She would sweep up the clipped hair, launder dirty towels and anything else that needed washing, make deposits at the neighborhood bank, fix coffee, and run errands for Robert.  She soon realized that he really didn’t need an assistant; hers was a make-work job, but she didn’t object.  During quiet times between customers Maggie asked Robert to teach her the barbering trade.  He was happy to pass on his knowledge.  It wasn’t long before she began cutting hair under his close supervision.  Robert proclaimed Maggie a “natural” at barbering.  Because she didn’t have a state-issued license, however, she worked only on his long-time customers.  When a stranger entered the shop Robert took charge and she resumed the assistant’s role.

It wasn’t long before news of Robert’s attractive young helper spread through the community, bringing with it a noticeable influx of younger male customers.  “You certainly are good for business,” Robert observed.  “You should get your license before someone reports us to the authorities.”

After completing her semester Maggie enrolled at the Evergreen Beauty School across the bay in Bellevue.  She would attend the beauty school during the day while continuing college classes at night.  A year later she passed her licensing exam and became a full-fledged partner with Robert.  She still lived in his house and most people believed they were uncle and niece.

Every ten or twelve weeks, when Maggie’s bangs began to creep into her eyebrows, Robert reminded her, “It’s time for a trim,” and she obediently climbed into the chair.  The first few times he simply trimmed an inch, just enough to keep the eyebrows out of her eyes and a clean line below her jaw.  Then, a year after she arrived on his doorstep, Maggie announced she wanted a change.

She began cautiously, not sure if Robert would approve of her plan.  “I’ve noticed the girls are wearing their hair shorter this year,”.

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” he answered.

“Well, they are,” she informed him.  “And I’m thinking of going shorter too.”

“But Maggie, this is such an elegant style.  It’s perfect for you,” he pleaded.

“Maybe I don’t want elegant anymore, Robert.  I’m tired of elegant.  Elegant is for older women.  I want something adorable, something cute, something fun.”

“I had no idea you felt this way.  Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.  I know you’re in love with this haircut.”

“That’s okay.  What you want is more important than my desires.  So, tell me what you’d like.”

She pulled a picture torn out of a fashion magazine from the pocket of her jeans.  “It’s called an angled bob.  It’s stacked in the back and then follows a diagonal line down to the jaw.  And I want shorter bangs.  This style looks best with short bangs.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that style.  I’m not as uninformed as you might think.  I follow women’s hairstyles too. I’m sure it will be very attractive on you.”

“Will you do it for me?” she asked eagerly.

“Maggie, I’d rather not.  It’s kinda complicated.  I’m afraid I might botch it.  You’ll have to go to a salon for this haircut.”

“I could ask someone at the beauty school do it,” she suggested.

“You should go to a salon, and I know just the place.  A friend of mine owns it.”

“Won’t that be awfully expensive?”

“It’ll cost a few bucks, but the shop is doing well.  I can afford it.  Nothing but the best for my number one assistant.”

Maggie had never seen the interior of a salon and was looking forward to the experience.  Robert called his buddy who ran a high-end suburban salon and reserved a slot for one o’clock the following Monday when their shop was closed.  He drove Maggie to her appointment.  It was hard to tell which one was more nervous.

They arrived a few minutes early.  “You want me to come in with you?” Robert asked.

“Yes, I’d like you there.  I’ll feel safer knowing you’re watching out for me.”

“You know there’s really nothing to worry about,” he assured her.

“I suppose you’re right, but I want you close by just the same,” she smiled.

Martin, the owner, welcomed her, “Pleased to meet you, Maggie.  I’ll be cutting your hair today.  Your grandfather can wait over there.”

“He’s my uncle,” Maggie corrected him.  It had been more than a year since she moved into his house, but they still maintained the fiction that she was his niece from Spokane.

It was more than an hour before Maggie emerged accompanied by the salon’s owner.  Robert was astonished at the dramatic change.  Maggie now wore short bangs that stopped more than an inch above her eyebrows.  Her hair was parted on the left side, not down the center as before, and brushed across her head.  On the sides it was not much shorter, still covering her ears, but it angled upward in the back.  “Let me show you the back, that’s the best part,” she said enthusiastically.  That’s where Robert saw the biggest change.  The dark tresses above her neck were closely clipped halfway up her head.  The contrast between the short pelt below and the longer layers on top was dramatic and unexpected.

Maggie turned back to face Robert who was gaping, speechless.  “You hate it, don’t you?” she cried.

Before Robert could say anything, Martin spoke up.  “It’s my fault, Robert.  I’m the one who suggested buzzing the back.  I talked her into it.”

“No, you’ve got me all wrong,” he protested.  “I think it’s a wonderful haircut.  You’ve done an excellent job,” he told his friend.  “It’s just that this was so unexpected.  It takes my breath away.”

“Oh Robert, I’m so relieved,” Maggie said.  “I was afraid this might be too much.”

“On the contrary.  I think it’s a wonderful contemporary cut for a modern young woman.  I think we should go somewhere to celebrate.”

“You better pay him first, then we can celebrate,” Maggie reminded him.

 

They drove to a fancy Chinese restaurant not far from the shop.  Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, Robert ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate.  After moving in with Robert, Maggie had begun sipping wine and an occasional beer, but she had never tasted champagne.  “A toast to your marvelous haircut,” Robert proposed.

“I’ll drink to that,” Maggie seconded, as she quickly drained her glass.  “Robert, you surprised me.  At first, I thought you didn’t like my haircut.  He’s gonna hate it because it’s so short, that’s what I thought.  Then you said you loved it.  I was so relieved.”

“Maggie, you should understand, I’m a professional in the hair care business.  I can recognize the work of another skilled professional.  The haircut Martin gave you is outstanding.  Not only is he skilled with the barbering tools, but he selected a style that enhances your best features.”

“Robert, I feel so much better hearing you say that.  I want to celebrate.  Pour me another glass.”

By the time they left the restaurant Maggie was more than a little inebriated.  Robert guided her to the car and held the door as she got in.  “Good thing you didn’t drink too much.  I’m in no shape to drive and it’s a long walk,” she told him before dozing off on the way home.  When they arrived back at Robert’s bungalow, she clung to his arm as he helped her negotiate the steps to the front door.

“Robert, do you like me?” she asked woozily when they made it inside the house.

“Of course, I like you, Maggie.  What a crazy question.”

“Well, I had to ask because I’ve been living with you for more than a year now and you never once tried to kiss me.  If a guy likes a girl, he’s supposed to show her, isn’t he?”

“But Maggie, I’m so much older.  People would get the wrong idea.”

“What if I told them you’re not my uncle?  I bet people would get the wrong idea then,” she teased.

“What are you saying, Maggie?”

“Robert, you’ve been so good to me.  I can never repay you for all the things you’ve done for me.”

“There’s no need for you to repay me, Maggie.  I’m not running a tab on you.  You can stay for as long as you like.”

“You’re so kind and generous.  You treat me better than my own parents.  I’ve learned so much from you.  That’s why I love you and I want you to love me back.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Maggie.  That’s just the champagne talking.”

“The bubbly stuff has loosened my tongue, that’s for sure, but you’re hearing what I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time now.  This haircut that you love so much is my present to you.  And I want to give you another present, another surprise.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve got to come closer.”

Robert slid next to Maggie.  She looked into his eyes.  “Come here, Mister Voss,” she said in a sultry voice as she reached up and kissed him on the lips.

“Maggie, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Robert protested.

“I think we should,” she insisted.  “I’m not a kid anymore, Robert.  Why do you insist on treating me like a child?”

“Maggie, I’m too old for you,” he declared.

“You let me be the judge of that,” she countered.  “Don’t you like me?”

“I like you very much, you know that.”

“Do you love me?” she continued.

“Maggie, don’t do this,” he pleaded.

“Do you love me?” she repeated, more insistent this time.

“I love you like a daughter,” he insisted.

“You’re lying,” she shot back.  “I see the way you look at me.  It’s not the way a father looks at his daughter.  It’s the way a lover looks at his beloved.  Stop lying to me and to yourself, Robert.”

“I can’t help it,” he pleaded.  “I was all alone after Nancy died.  Then you came into my life.  I don’t want to spoil anything.”

“You don’t have to apologize for the feelings you have toward me. You’re a single man and I’m a single woman.  There is nothing wrong with loving each other.  It’s perfectly natural.   I think we should stop pretending that we don’t have feelings for each other.  I think we can do better.”

“Maggie, I’m scared,” Robert admitted.

“Me too, Robert, but I don’t want to go on acting like I’m not attracted to you.  Let’s stop pretending.”

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Good.  You can start by telling me what you’re thinking right now.  No more lies,”

“I’m thinking you look so darn sexy with that new haircut,” he confessed.

“Thank you, Robert.  I feel very sexy.  Do you want to do something about it?”

“First, I want to take your picture.  Then I’d like to make love with you.”

“Good.  Let’s do that,” Maggie agreed.

Robert went to his bedroom closet and rummaged around looking for the camera he hadn’t used in years.  By the time he returned with his camera, Maggie was sound asleep on the couch.  He took several photos of his sleeping beauty and then covered her with a comforter before tiptoeing back to his bedroom.

 

The next morning Maggie carried a tray into the bedroom and gently shook Robert until he woke.  “Wake up sleepyhead,” she called in a soothing voice.

“My goodness, what’s this?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s breakfast in bed for the man I love,” she chimed.  “Though I’d surprise you.”

“Thanks, Maggie, but why are you doing this?” he asked.

“Because I wanted to.  It’s the least I can do after you’ve taken such good care of me.”

“You know this really isn’t necessary.”

“I think it is.  Last night I was ready to have sex with you and you were a perfect gentleman.  I appreciate that.”

“You were kinda drunk.  Do you remember what I said?”

“You said I looked sexy with my new haircut, and you wanted to make love to me.”

“But then you fell asleep.”

“Yeah.  I’m kinda sorry I said that.  Even though I love you very much, I really don’t want to have sex before I get married.”

“Yes, I know that, Maggie.”

“So, what are we gonna do, Robert?  What are we gonna do?”

“I honestly don’t know, Maggie.”

“Well, I have an idea.  I think I should move out.  Find someplace else to live.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t want to be a source of temptation, Robert.  I’m afraid we might have another incident like last night, only next time I might succeed in seducing you.”

“Perhaps it’s best that you move out then, although I’ll really miss having you around.”

“Oh, I’m not going to quit my job, you’ll still see me every day, but I do want to continue with school and finish my degree.”

“Sure, I think that’s a good plan.  We can start looking for apartments on the bus route.”

“And I want to buy a car too, a used car.  I’ve been saving money for that.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said.

“So, after I get my own apartment can we start going out on dates?  We can stop pretending you’re my uncle.  I’d really like that.”

“We’ll see, Maggie.  We’ll see about that.”

 

It didn’t take long for Robert to find a studio apartment for Maggie about halfway between the community college and the barber shop.  “The location’s perfect,” Maggie exclaimed.  “If it’s not raining, I can walk to my classes and to the shop.  If it’s raining, I can take the bus.”

Every afternoon Maggie arrived at the shop around 1 PM with her textbooks and laptop in her backpack, but she seldom got a chance to study because a steady stream of male customers kept her busy.  Robert often sat idle as young men waited in line to be trimmed by Maggie.

After they closed the shop, Robert and Maggie ate dinner together most evenings.  Sometimes Robert cooked; sometimes they went out to eat.  Saturday was reserved as “date night.”  Usually that meant a movie; Maggie preferred romantic comedies; Robert was partial to action or adventure flicks.  On summer evenings when the Mariners were home, they often got tickets for a ball game.  They both were baseball fans.

 

Then, about three months after Maggie moved out, a police officer entered Robert’s shop.

“What can I do for you, officer?” Robert asked.

“Are you Robert Voss?”

“I am, sir.”

“I’m looking for a runaway by the name of Magdalene Schultz.  Central Community College has this listed as her address.”

“I know a Maggie Schultz.  I suppose that’s the same person.  She works here.”

“But does she live here?  That’s what I need to know.  You could be harboring a runaway.”

“Well, she did rent a room from me for a while, but she’s moved into an apartment closer to the college.  She’s not in trouble, is she?”

“I don’t know, mister.  She disappeared two years ago, and her parents haven’t heard from her since. They are very concerned.  They filed a missing person report.  That’s why I’m here.”

“She told me she was escaping an arranged marriage.  She’s over eighteen now and she can live anywhere she pleases.”

“I don’t know anything about that.  It’s my job to find her and make sure she’s okay.”

“I can give you her correct address if that would help,” Robert volunteered.

“Thanks.  That’d be a big help.”

As soon as the officer departed Robert called Maggie.  He knew she probably was in class, but he wanted to warn her.  When she didn’t pick up, he left a message on her voice mail.

Half an hour later Maggie called back.  “What’s the matter, Robert?  Your message sounded so alarming.”

“A cop came to the shop looking for you.  He said you were reported as a runaway.  I gave him your address.”

“I kinda expected this might happen.  Since I was still seventeen when I left home, I suppose I technically was a runaway.  But that shouldn’t be a problem any longer.”

“I thought you’d called your parents soon after you got here.”

“I lied to you, Robert.  I was afraid to face them.”

“Well, I got a feeling you’re going to be facing them pretty soon.  You better get ready.”

“I know, I know,” she groaned.  “It’s not going to be fun, but I suppose I have to let them know what’s become of me.”

Two hours later Maggie called again.  “The cop was here and I gave him all the information he wanted—that I was employed, enrolled in school, and living independently.  He asked a lot of questions about my relationship with you.  It seems he thinks you might have been responsible for my running away from home.  That’s crazy, I know, but he’s going to report back to my parents.  Who knows what they’re capable of.”

“Maggie, we need to talk.  How soon can you get over here?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Give me half an hour.”

Soon Maggie and Robert were closeted in the back room of the shop.  An “Out to Lunch” sign hung on the front door.  Maggie was frantic.  “What are we going to do?  I expect my parents will be banging on my door any time now.”

“Can you call them and tell them to come to the shop?”

“Yes, I suppose I can reach them, but why do you want to meet them?”

“I have a plan, Maggie dear.  Do you have your Bible?”  She reached into her purse and pulled out a small leather-bound volume.

“What are you thinking?”

“Maggie, turn to Matthew, chapter 25.”

“I know that part.  That’s the story of the Good Samaritan.”

“That’s right.  Your folks are people who live by the Bible and we’re going to use the Bible to keep you here.”

 

It was nearly closing time when a dust-coated Chevy Suburban pulled up outside the barber shop.  A stern-looking bearded man emerged, followed by a small woman wearing a long dress and a plain scarf covering most of her head.  Maggie called to Rebert, “They’re here.”

Robert met them at the door.  “Mr. and Mrs. Schultz, come in.  We’ve been expecting you.”

“Is my daughter here?” the man demanded.  “We’ve come to take her home.”

“Yes, your daughter’s inside.  Come in, please.”

Maggie emerged from the back room.  Her mother broke away from her husband and rushed to her daughter’s side.  “Magda, what has he done to you?  You’ve abandoned your family.  You’ve cut your hair.  You’re wearing make-up.  We’ve come to take you home.”

“Hello Mother.  I’m fine and I’m not going home with you.  For your information, my name is Maggie now.”

“Maggie?  That’s not a Christian name.  That’s a whore’s name.”

“Maggie is the abbreviated form of Margaret,” Robert informed them.  “St. Margaret was a Christian woman of Antioch who was put to death by the Roman governor when she refused to renounce her faith.”

“There you go, pretending to be a good Christian man.  If you were such a good man, you would have sent Magda back to her home.”

“When she first came here, I told her to call you and let you know she was safe.  She told me she had, and I believed her.”

“A good Christian man would have sent her back to her parents.”

“I did what the Samaritan in the Bible did.  Your daughter was a stranger in the city.  She didn’t have much money; she didn’t have a place to stay.  I took her in.  What does Matthew say in chapter 25?”

“If you’re such a Bible scholar, why don’t you tell me?”

Then Robert quoted from the Good Book.  “For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.”

Maggie’s father continued his rant.  “Then you cut her hair; you painted her face; and you ravished her.”

Robert refused to lose his temper despite these harsh accusations.  “Yes, I cut her hair after she asked me to, but I have never laid a hand on her.  I have never slept with your daughter.  As soon as she had a steady job, I helped her find a place of her own and she moved out.”

Then her mother spoke up.  “Is that true, Magda?  Is he telling us the truth?”

“Yes mother.  He’s telling the truth,” Maggie replied.  “Robert’s been a perfect gentleman.  He’s a religious man, a Catholic.  I’m still a virgin.  You can take me to a doctor if you like and have me checked.”

Maggie’s mother turned to her husband.  “Magda has never lied to me, and I believe she’s telling us the truth now.  Perhaps we have judged Mister Voss too harshly.”

Then Maggie chimed in.  “You and father have been too harsh, mother.  Robert gave me a place to stay when I first came here.  He gave me a job in his barber shop.  He paid my tuition at the community college and the beauty school.  Now I’m living in my own apartment and taking classes at the community college.  Next fall I’ll start at the University of Washington.  I’m still a Christian woman, just a different kind of Christian than you and Daddy are.  I’m a grownup now.  I want to live my own life, not a life someone else has laid out for me.  I believe you owe Robert an apology.”

“I think we’ve heard enough, Sarah,” Mister Schultz said to his wife.  “It looks like Magda has made her decision and we’re not going to change her mind.  She always was a stubborn child.  Come on mother, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

Maggie’s father looked at Robert.  “You take good care of our daughter, Mister Voss.  I can see she cares for you.  But if I ever hear that you’ve mistreated her, I’ll come back and strike you down.”

The Old Testament couple marched out the door, got into their vehicle, and roared off down the road.  Maggie and Robert stood in the door of the shop watching the car until was out of sight.  Robert slipped his arm around Maggie’s waist.  “Well, I believe that settles that,” he observed.  “It went much better than I anticipated,” he said.

Maggie was beaming.  “You were wonderful, quoting from the Bible like that,” she said to Robert.  “You found the perfect approach for dealing with my parents.”

Robert returned the compliment.  “You did pretty good yourself.  I’m glad we didn’t have sex that night when you got drunk on champagne.”

“There will be other opportunities for that, mister,” Maggie said as she snuggled closer.

“Don’t you think it’s about time that we got married?” Robert asked.

“Is that a proposal, Mister Voss?  Is that the best you can do?”

Robert got down on one knee.  He looked up into her eyes and intoned, “Maggie Schultz, will you consent to be my bride? I promise I will love you and take care of you until the day I die.”

Maggie bent down and grabbed Robert around his neck. “Yes, yes,” she gushed. “And I promise to love you for as long as I shall live.”

 

During the next months, Robert noticed that Maggie was letting her angled bob grow out.  When he offered to give her a trim, she declined.  “I’d like to go back to the chin length bob you gave me when I first came to town,” she told him.

“Any particular reason?”

“I know you loved the way I looked with my hair cut like that, and I want to wear that style when I graduate.”

On the second Saturday of May Maggie received her associate’s degree in business administration from Seattle Central Community College.  The name on the diploma read “Margaret Schultz.”  At Robert’s suggestion, she had legally changed her name the month before.

 

That June, Robert and Maggie were married in a small Catholic ceremony in St. Margaret’s Church.  The bride looked radiant in an elegant white sheath.  Her dark hair was freshly clipped into the same chin-length bob Robert had given her the first day they met.  The groom wore a tux for the second time in his life.  He was bursting with pride.  “After Nancy died, I never thought I’d marry again.  Then God sent Maggie to me.”

Only a few close friends attended their wedding.  “We’ll send an announcement to our families afterwards,” they told their guests.

Robert’s children were shocked when they received the news of their May-December wedding.  “I had no idea Dad was getting married,” his daughter Alice confided to her older brother.

“It was a total surprise to me too,” Charlie told his sister. “I think I’ll drive up, to Seattle and check out the situation.”

“Tell me what you find. I’m dying to hear who he married.  Be sure you bring them a wedding gift.  Say it’s from all of us.  You don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

Three days later Charlie phoned his sister.  “You won’t believe it, sis, but Dad’s bride is younger than we are.  What’s more, she’s beautiful—a real looker!”

“She must be after his money,” Alice concluded.

“That’s just it,” Charlie responded.  “Dad doesn’t have much money.  You know he never charged enough for his haircuts.  What money they do have is her doing.  She’s working two full-time jobs.  She must really love the old man.”

That fall Maggie enrolled at the University of Washington and began working toward her bachelor’s degree in accounting.  Although her university courses demanded more of her time, she still managed to keep her regular hours cutting hair.

Two years later, as Maggie’s graduation day neared, Robert became increasingly anxious.  He knew she would be looking for an accounting job.  She had maintained a high academic average and was eager to put her degree to work.  Maggie solved that problem by accepting a three-quarter-time position with a large accounting firm.  Her employers were impressed by her academic record and, after a few months, allowed her to work from home and set her own hours.

 

As the years passed, Maggie took on more responsibility for running the shop.  Then, Robert’s hearing began to fail.  Hearing aids worked, but he constantly complained they were more trouble than they were worth.  Then his vision started to go.  The diagnosis was macular degeneration.  Before long, all Robert could do was sit in an easy chair and chat with the customers while Maggie handled all of their haircuts.

“We need to hire another barber,” Maggie told him one day after the close of business.  “There’s more work than I can handle alone.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Robert reluctantly agreed.  “Do you have anyone in mind?”

“There are a couple of guys from my class at the beauty school who do excellent work.  I’ll check to see if either one is interested.”

“Go ahead. Invite them for an interview,” told her.

The next week two younger men appeared for interviews.  Robert dominated the conversations.  Maggie hardly had an opportunity to ask any questions.

After the second unsatisfactory interview Maggie confronted him.  “Robert, this isn’t working.  You see these men as potential rivals for my affection.  You’re afraid I might decide I like one of them better than I like you.”

“You’re right, I’m just a used up old man.  One of these days you’re going to get tired of me and run off with one of these youngsters.”

“Robert, you are so wrong.  You are my husband.  I vowed to stick by you for better or for worse.  But you can’t ignore the jealousy you’re feeling.  Fortunately, I have a solution.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“I’d like to hire a woman barber.  A young one we can train to take over the shop when I’m busy with my accounting job.”

“Yes, I suppose that would work,” Robert conceded.  “Go ahead, see what you can do.”

Maggie arranged a series of interviews over the next week.  All of the job applicants were recent graduates from the same beauty school Maggie attended.  She and Robert conferred on Sunday afternoon.  “I liked Sally. I think she has real potential,” Maggie began.

“What about Barbara, the tall one?  I think the men will love her,” Robert added.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop judging the applicants on their looks,” Maggie chided.  “Focus on their skill.”

“I think Barbara has the skill to attract a lot of male customers with her looks,” Robert answered with a smirk.  “Why don’t you hire Sally and I’ll hire Barbara?  We’ll see which one works out best.”

“I suppose we could hire both of them,” Maggie conceded.  “If they work out, that would allow me to spend more hours on my accounting job.  I think this could be a win-win proposition.”

 

Both new hires proved to be skillful barbers.  Maggie and Robert noticed an influx of customers almost immediately.  Young women who preferred the shorter styles a barber can deliver favored Sally.  Male patrons who appreciated a woman’s gentle touch gravitated to Barbara.  They added evening hours to handle the growing demand.

Soon Maggie presented Robert with a business proposition.  “We have an opportunity, Robert, an opportunity to expand our business.  Yesterday I heard about a six-chair shop that’s coming up for sale.  I know we’ve always been a small mom and pop business, but here’s a chance to expand the services we offer, especially our emphasis feminine barbering.  I’d like to remodel the larger shop and close this old one as soon as we can.”

Robert agreed this was a good idea.  He let Maggie handle all of the business details.  He came up with a name for the new shop.  On opening day, he and his young wife proudly posed for photos beneath the sign announcing their new place of business.  It read, “Maggie’s Chop Shop.”

Robert wrapped his arm around his beaming young wife.  “I never thought I would love another woman after Nancy died.  Then you came into my life.  You have made me a very happy man.”

“You know, it’s funny,” she told her husband, “I came to Seattle to escape an arranged marriage to a man twenty years older than myself.  Then I met and married you, a man more than forty years older than me.”

“I always wondered what attracted you to me,” Robert pondered.

“I’ll tell you what it was,” Maggie volunteered.  “It was the haircuts you gave me.  When I saw myself after that initial haircut, I felt beautiful for the first time in my life.  Before that, my hair had been a burden.  When you cut my hair, you freed me from a life of drudgery.  My long hair was a badge of servitude.  Then you cut my hair even shorter.  I was free to be a truly modern woman.  You saved me, Robert, and I’ll always love you for that.”

THE END