HairApparent
Prologue
It was a bright Saturday morning, and the air buzzed with the anticipation of our summer vacation. Each member of our family floated between excitement and the mundane chore of packing. But my favourite part was always going into town and choosing the final items for our trip. My mum stood with a notepad in hand, meticulously ticking off the checklist, her reassuring voice echoing with every item finalised.
‘Nearly there, Emily,’ Mum announced, tearing me from my daydream of whether I really needed a third pair of denim shorts. ‘But your dad and brother need haircuts, so we’ll have to wait for them at the barbershop, and then we can all go home.’
As we walked through town, an unwarranted flutter of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I had never been inside a barbershop before, but I could imagine what it would be like. The thought of entering a place meant for boys and men sent jitters right through me. Furthermore, I realised I might see a boy that I knew and, I would look and feel completely out of place.
I was more accustomed to the safety of our home, where Mum would patiently trim the ends of my long hair every few months; hair that cascaded down past my waist like a dark waterfall.
‘Mum, can’t we just grab a coffee or something while we wait for them?’ I suggested, hoping to sidestep the impending embarrassment of going inside an all-male stronghold.
Mum shook her head adamantly. ‘No, my way will be much quicker, and you know we must adhere to the family’s schedule.’
It was true. Mum allowed none of us to deviate from her precious schedule. To be fair, it always prepared us well for what we planned to do and got us to where we needed to go. As I was off to college after the vacation, it might be out last trip together as a family, so I did not want to cause any upset.
‘Fine,’ I groaned, as Mum marched happily towards the town’s barbershop. My dad and brother followed her, showing little more enthusiasm than I was, trudging along behind.
Barbers
The barbershop was incredibly stark, a world of huge leather and chrome chairs and softly humming clippers buzzing in the background. There was a murmur of chatter from a few customers in a waiting area, sitting on a mismatched collection of rickety chairs. A worn vinyl-covered bench had space for the family, so mum sat down and gestured that the rest of us should sit down next to her. We obediently did as Mum had directed.
Fleeting glances stolen in my direction from the men and boys who were waiting made me feel self-conscious. If I had known beforehand that I would be entering this male bastion, then I would have dressed less provocatively. Just wearing a denim miniskirt and skimpy white lace camisole top was always going to attract attention.
I avoided the leers by staring straight ahead, wishing I had had the foresight to bring something to read. The dog-eared collection of car and angling magazines on the table before me held little attraction. But neither did watching an old barber snipping the remaining hair from the balding head of the man seated in front of me.
The next chair along drew my gaze. Although, in truth, I was admiring the well-proportioned bum of the younger barber attending to the customer in that chair. Dragging my eyes upwards, I was astonished to see it was someone I recognised. On reflection, I realised, giggling to myself, that I was familiar with the sight of that bum as well. It belonged to Luke, a guy I had known from school. He was two years older than me, and he had been the subject of a serious adolescent crush.
I had always wondered what had become of Luke after he left school. I did ask around and I had heard he had gone to college. But, not wishing to sound too needy, I never found out if he had moved away area. As I continued watching him, I concluded that he must have gone to hairdressing college, or wherever they train barbers. Working with skilful hands, Luke’s entire focus was on the talk in hand, and that allowed me to enjoy the scenery unobserved!
‘Next!’ an older barber barked, pulling me back from my reverie.
Dad
‘Go on, dear,’ Mum nudged Dad toward the chair. ‘A number 1!’ she called out to the barber, clearly not trusting Dad to ask for what Mum required. He obediently strode toward the seat and exchanged pleasantries with the barber. Covered with a large black cape, the barber took his hairclippers, adjusted them, and began shearing off the little hair that Dad had on his head.
I could still remember Dad when he had a full head of nicely styled hair. Shivering, I could remember my shock when I first saw him nearly bald. It was a situation precipitated by Mum, with expediency, when she noted he was thinning a little on top. I had felt sorry Dad then, and I did so once again as I witnessed the latest shearing taking place.
‘Next!’ called out the next barber to become free.
David
‘Up you go, David,’ Mum urged.
‘Do I have to, Mum?’ my younger brother whined. Against the odds, he had managed to hang on to longer hair for some time, and it nearly reached his shoulders. Mum always said she did not mind it long, provided he kept it neat and tidy. To be fair, David had spent a lot of his pocket money having it trimmed regularly at a salon. So, styled well and had not simply grown long just for the sake of it. He said his cool flowing hair functioned as a “chick magnet”! I have no idea where he learnt that phrase. However, I did see more girls showing interest in him during the previous year as it set him apart from his peers.
‘Yes, you do have to have your hair cut,’ Mum insisted, leaving no room for argument. ‘It is going to be hot and humid where we are going. And it will certainly be no fun for you like that when you go swimming.’
I silently agreed that Mum had a point but did not want to cause any upset, so remained quiet. Mum had even taken her own advice and had her hair cut shorter on her last salon visit. It was not a substantial change, but noticeable. She had a rather dated spiky crop with blonde highlights that looked fine but, sadly, did not really do much for her.
‘Okay,’ David grunted, trudging towards the equally grumpy-looking old barber, ‘but I’m not having it too much shorter, Mum, right?’
‘He will have a number 1, like his father,’ our mum called merrily.
‘Mum!’ David squealed. ‘But I’ve spent -’
‘I have explained why it is necessary,’ Mum interrupted in the tone that she always used to quell dissent. ‘You can grow it again after we return,’ she added dismissively. ‘Number 1, please, barber.’
‘Right you are, ma’am,’ the barber acknowledged, a glint in his eye as he surveyed the ample locks before him.
Although we did not always agree about things, I felt for David at that moment. I knew he was about to remind Mum how much he had invested having his hair trimmed to aid his evolution into a “chick magnet”. However, just a few seconds later, that dream was gone, as the barber’s hairclippers buzzed a near-bald furrow along the top of my brother’s head.
I had wanted to turn away, but I felt compelled to watch the sad destruction taking place. I was fascinated, yet horrified, as the barber expertly peeled off my brother’s long locks. Watching as they tumbled down the cape, then bounced on the floor. A few minutes later, the barber had stripped away all the hair that had once flowed down David’s back. He was as bald as our dad, making him look peculiar and completely different.
‘Next!’ a voice called out, more melodiously than the previous barbers, and in a tone that was strangely familiar.
Luke
‘Emily, it’s your turn!’ Mum exclaimed excitedly, tugging me from the bench in the waiting area. I could not believe this was happening. She appeared to have made this decision without even asking me!
‘Mum?’ I chuckled nervously, trying to lighten the mood. ‘You are joking, right?’
She gave me a serious look. ‘We have talked about this. With the heat where we are going, you will be uncomfortable with all that hair. And as for the humidity -’
‘We have not talked about this!’ I countered, unconsciously raising my voice. I became aware the chatter around the shop had diminished and all eyes were looking in my direction once more.
‘Your father and I did,’ Mum said indignantly. ‘I meant to have word with you before we came out, but it must have slipped my mind. I have so much to do. Still, no harm done. And please do remember, we must keep to the schedule.’
‘Schedule? Hah!’ I exclaimed. ‘Bug -’
‘Language Emily!’ Mum said curtly, correctly pre-empting by rare desire to swear at her unfair attitude, causing a ripple of giggles from around the shop. Adopting a more conciliatory tone, Mum went on. ‘No need to worry, Emily. Trust me, I will explain to the barber what he must do.’
‘Next!’ The voice called out again, a note impatience creeping into the tone.
Mum spun me around and pushed me towards where I knew the barber would be waiting. As I looked around, my heart sank. I noticed all the amused eyes on me. And, worse yet, it was Luke gesturing me forward as he leant back nonchalantly against his chair. The redeeming quality was that he showed no sign of recognising me.
I felt my cheeks flare with embarrassment. If he were not there, I would have walked out and faced the consequences from my mum later. I had become an adult since he had last seen me. Embarrassingly, he witnessed my own mother dictating my appearance and treating me as if I was a child. As he smirked at my slow progress, I wanted the ground to gobble me up. I was a deer caught in headlights.
I looked back at Mum beseechingly, and she simply gestured impatiently for me to move forward. It was like walking the plank, even if there was an element of excitement mixed with my nerves at being close to Luke.
As I sank into the seat, Luke flashed the engaging smile I remembered so well from the past. ‘Hi,’ he said, quickly followed by, ‘wow, that’s a lot of hair.’
That day I had worn my hair in a high ponytail drawn back from my face in the same style as a famous pop singer I liked. Everyone always remarked on the similarity which I found quite flattering. It seemed that Luke had not noticed the length of my locks before I had sat down, so the remarkable length seemed to catch him off guard.
‘Yes,’ I murmured. I kicked myself for not saying something more illuminating or intelligible. ‘Yes, it is … a lot …’
Luke chuckled at my inane reply as he enveloped me in a large black cape. He then pumped up the chair, lifting me high off the ground. I was surprised by the weight of the cape and the height of the chair as, together, they made me feel ensnared.
He lifted my ponytail that had become caught between my body and the chair. While doing so, the back of his hand brushed my neck. I felt a warm glow. Seemingly oblivious of the contact, he arranged my ponytail so that it trailed down the cape on my right side, with the ends coiling in my lap. ‘Yep, that’s definitely a lot of hair,’ he confirmed.
‘Yes …’ I mumbled. Sheesh!
‘So, what will it be?’ he asked, holding my gaze in the mirror.
I hesitated, feeling exposed. ‘Um, I’m not really sure…’ But before I could utter another word, Mum pulled something up on her phone, waving it under his nose.
‘Like this, young man,’ Mum declared, although I could not see what she was suggesting.
Luke’s eyes widened in surprise as he examined the image. Nodding towards Mum to dismiss her, he then turned his attention back to me in the mirror.
Luke raised an eyebrow and gently combed his fingers through my ponytail. ‘That is a lot of hair you would be losing. Are you sure you want to go that route?’ he asked sceptically, looking genuinely unsure. ‘A bowlcut can look cute, but …’
A bowlcut! Had Mum really shown Luke a picture of a bowlcut. I tried to see her in the mirror to gain clarification, but she was busying herself looking down at her phone. For sure, it was a lot of hair to be losing. And, until five minutes earlier, I had not even considered it was a remote possibility. But then Luke did say a bowlcut can look cute.
‘Cute …?’ I enquired softly, annoying myself by acting all coy, head to one side, but mercifully not batting my eyelashes.
‘Sure, on the right person, with the right face shape, and strong features,’ he stated with a professional air. He then studied me silently and carefully for a brief time, moving my head from side to side with a hand on my chin. ‘Yep, you would definitely look cute,’ he grinned.
A warmth spread through me when he complimented me, and I felt trapped by the moment. I trusted him, or at least I wanted to. ‘Well, if you think I will look cute, Luke, then I guess it’ll be alright,’ I replied, trying hard to stay calm while my heart raced.
At the mention of his name, his eyes quickly darted back to me once again, and a knowing smile formed on his lips.
‘I know you from school, right?’ he questioned, easing back ponytail so it hung down the back of the chair once more. ‘Emily? A couple of years below me?’
‘Yes!’ I squeaked, blushing deeply. The fact he remembered my name made me giddy. It gave me the opportunity to ask him all manner of questions about what he had been doing since. It almost seemed irrelevant that he was holding my ponytail taut. And that he was brandishing a very shiny pair of scissors whose blades, surrounding the base of my ponytail, looked exceedingly sharp.
Most importantly, I needed to find out if he had a girlfriend. I needed to stay in his chair for longer or I would forever lose the opportunity to pose the question.
‘It will be a lot of hair you will be losing, Emily,’ he reminded me. ‘Are you sure you want this all cut off?’ he asked nervously, a note of anguish in his voice.
I needed more time with Luke, I reminded myself. ‘Sure,’ I said, effecting a nonchalant tone but, in fact, I was trembling. Clashing thoughts rushed through my mind. Would it be worth it? Obviously not if he had a girlfriend. But did he? Can I simply ask him outright? ‘It’s about time I looked cute,’ I chuckled calmly, batting my eyelids at him. He smirked.
As he began to cut through my ponytail, I stole glances at his face in the mirror. He wore a mask of concentration, showing the effort required to force the blades of his scissors through my thick hair. Seeing my hair come away in his hands seemed unreal and a feeling of shock and disbelief began to overtake me.
‘I seem to remember you looked cute in school,’ Luke remarked, surprising me. ‘Yes, you had the longest hair of all the girls, didn’t you?’ he asked. Unable to nod as he still had my hair held taut, I squeaked to acknowledge his assertion. ‘I always thought your hair was amazing,’ he mused.
‘It still is,’ I said proudly but the moment had blinded my common sense. I was recalling the past, but stupidly forgetting what was occurring while I spoke.
‘Not anymore,’ he chuckled triumphantly, holding up my severed ponytail – my unique identity – before he tossed it unceremoniously into the waste bin. ‘Shame, I hate doing that,’ he confessed, ‘as I’ve always preferred women to have long hair.’
What! I was devastated by his words. Despite all my thoughts about Luke, shock set in at the finality of his actions. He had remembered me from school, but he done so for my long hair that he had still deemed amazing. Except he reduced it to a short stump of ponytail springing up ridiculously on top of my head like a young child.
I was thoroughly confused about what to say next. While I contemplated my words, Luke busied himself by releasing my silly little ponytail. He then combed down my hair, around my head, into a pathetic uneven bob that barely touched my chin. He followed that separating around half my hair and pinning it up on my crown. I needed to say something. ‘Luke, I -’
Drowning my subsequent words, the ominous sound of hairclippers began close to my ear. They purred when a distance away but, with them so close, they roared, upsetting my thoughts.
‘Emily, could you do something for me?’ he asked, raising his voice above the sound of the clippers.
Anything, I mused silently, willing it to provide an opening to move our conversation in a positive direction. ‘Of course,’ I replied casually.
‘Could you lower your head as far as possible?’ he instructed. ‘I need to shave your neck, right down to the skin, to achieve the style your mother has requested.’
From praising my exceedingly long hair of the past, he had stated his desire to shave my remaining short hair to extinction. I complied, biting my lip, lowering my head until my chin touched my heaving breasts, unable to hold back the wave of despair washing over me.
I felt the blade of the hairclippers slide up my neck, severing everything they found in their path. Where there had once been over a metre of hair hanging down, Luke had shaved it right down to the skin. It felt like such an irreversible step as tendrils tumbled down my shoulders, into my lap and onwards to the floor.
I flinched as he pushed my head to one side and repeated the action around my right ear. ‘No need to be scared of me,’ he chuckled. Embarrassingly, I flinched again when he flipped my head the other way to remove the hair from around my other ear. He chuckled once more.
Silencing the hairclippers, he allowed me to raise my head. My reflection astonished me. Half my hair still pinned up on my crown, but the remainder was completely gone. The sides were bare and, I presumed, the back too. It resembled a mohawk haircut, or some sort of retro-punk style.
For a merciful instant, the devastation was invisible as he released the hair from the top of my head. He combed it back down into a bob, admittedly less full than before with half my hair shaved. I did not see it like that for long as he arranged some of the hair at the front, so it covered my forehead.
‘Have you ever had a fringe,’ Luke enquired.
Never! Friends had had them cut, and almost immediately wanted to grow them out. And that took forever. It was not something I had ever contemplated with my long hair. I began to explain my thoughts. ‘No, I -’
‘Well, you have now,’ he piped up joyfully, as the scissors closed halfway up my forehead, and he miraculously restored my vision.
‘Ah,’ I reacted, in a panic, not knowing what to say.
‘And now you can see again,’ he joked.
‘Yes … yes, I can,’ I acknowledged lamely.
Luke went back into his focused professional mode. Firstly, he trimmed, the remaining longer hair around my head to the same length as my newly acquired fringe. Then he diligently made countless, seemingly minor adjustments, to the perimeter of the style until it was all to his liking.
I thought it was finally over when Luke put away his scissors. Therefore, I found it astounding when he picked up another electrical device. It most closely resembled my dad’s electric shaver, but Luke applied it to my hairline, removing the slight shadow that had shown there.
‘There we go, Emily. As requested, a cute bowl cut!’ Luke announced, standing back slightly, and adjusting the position of the mirror so that I could see my new hairstyle from every angle.
Emily
I stared in the mirror, feeling stunned! Luke had transformed me into someone I barely recognised. A glossy cap of hair that finished well above my ears, blending with the shortest of fringes. Everything below the bowl was smooth. I blinked in disbelief at the astonishingly bold haircut. One that I had seen no women wear.
My heart, once racing in joy at his attention, now sank in despair. Noticing my sadness, he looked regretful, causing me to feel more exposed than ever. Luke, almost sheepishly, swished away the cape and lowered the barber’s chair. I stepped down and turned to face him.
‘Now, remember to come back to see me after your vacation,’ he instructed amiably.
My heart fluttered with anticipation. Perhaps I had not lost everything, despite all I had experienced. After all, I mused positively, he had transformed me into someone he thought looked cute.
‘Of course,’ I said coyly, batting my eyelids, but this time with vigorous intent.
‘A severe bowlcut like yours it needs trimming at least every three weeks. So, when you return, I can restore your hair to this cute pristine state after all the sun, sea, and sand you will be enjoying with your family.’
I would rather be enjoying it with you, I pouted. Then I remembered I had not said those words, so my pout was rather superfluous and ineffectual. If that is the only reason that he wanted to see me, I reflected aggrievedly, then I would be growing out my hair from that day forward. So, he would never have to see me again.
‘Then once I’ve smartened you up, perhaps I could take the cute bowlcut girl out for a drink, or for a meal,’ he suggested bashfully.
My heart to fluttered anew. Despite how different I looked from how he remembered me, and his stated preference for long hair, he still wanted to go out with me … just as I was!
‘We’ll see,’ I said coyly, but I dispensed with the fluttering eyelashes on that occasion. Instead, I pecked him on the cheek before walking over to my astonished family with a spring in my step.
I was looking forward to our forthcoming vacation, but I was looking forward to our homecoming even more! Excitement mingled awkwardly with heartbreak. I might have lost my long hair, but through fleeting moments with Luke, I glimpsed a new future. A summer of surprises, leaving me wondering what the next chapter would hold.
The End
