By JimB (C)opyright October 2022
“This should DO,” the dome mom says looking at the empty bathroom.
It’s the common bathroom for our dorm.
“We won’t’ make much noise,” she blasts the thought my head as she lays out the folding chair onto the tiled floor.
The chair is dyed yellow by the lights.
Everything is discolored. Even me.
Even my anxiety ridden face.
No. she can’t see it. I hope she doesn’t.
“Take a seat there and I’ll get with you shortly,” she says in a comfortable tone.
Of course, she’s comfortable.
She’s done this before.
I glance at her as she drops the plastic black box onto the white tile with a scratching noise.
She looks confident and comfortable.
Her black hair was an even buzz all the way around and was so short her scalp can be seen.
Barely a stubble.
How does she do it?
Maybe i’ll find out.
Maybe we’ll find out about the white tank top and the black sweat pants she’s wearing.
Or, maybe she’ll remain a mystery woman.
This person we say once had a strange experience with.
You see them around all the time, reminding you of the weird experience.
“That’s the girl who gave me a buzz cut this morning in the dorm,” someone said.
My legs started shake slightly as reality sets in.
I might have fallen over if I hadn’t already sat down.
“No!” I wanted this. To change yourself, even a bit.
This is what college is about?
“You okay young girl?” she says with a laugh.
“You look white as a ghost.”
I focus in on her face to reply.
Instead I get caught by those intoxicating green eyes.
“I’m fine, just nervous,” I said.
I look back at the mirror taking in an image I might not see again for a while.
White blond hair flowing down my face. It’s mid length still long.
Not touching the shoulders and still free.
So, why am I ruining it?
I don’t know. I just want to.
She clicks the attachmentless clippers on breaking the heavy blanket of silence over the bathroom.
“Um, what attachment is that?” I ask, trying not to let my voice quiver.
She walks over, black cord trailing behind the silver clippers.
I tussles my hair.
“No offense,” she said.
“But, even if I told you, you don’t look like the type of person who knows about that type of thing.”
I blush hard and cast my brown eyes to the ground.
I’ve never had clippers taken to my head.
“Ready?” she asked me.
I don’t reply.
She takes a big breath in as she puts my head down with a smile.
Neck craned toward to my lap.
Her face stuck with an exhilarated smile on it.
Hair falling into position as gravity tugs on it.
The clippers come to life.
I can’t bear to watch, either through the mirror or the slow approach of the clippers at the edge of my vision.
So, I squeeze my eyes shut. It doesn’t stop the clippers.
I expected to feel something new.
Instead I only feel an absence.
I feel the blond lock in my lap.
But, I still don’t look.
And, she keeps going.
One stroke after another. The more strokes, the less hair.
The more excited I get.
“You think it’ll look good?” I ask in confident voice, despite the insecure question.
“Yeah, you got the face and head shape for it,” she replies coolly.
Suddenly the clippers is pulled away from my head and her soft fingers near a buzzed patch.
The sensation is odd.
“It’s a attachmentless clippers for future reference.
“Or, when ever you get it cut again,” she says as she rubs my head.
I feel them easily tear through hair as they vibrate against my skull.
I get lost in the sound.
The humming as they come and go with each stroke. Away from my ears and close to them once again.
They cover every part of my head.
Not a spot missed, not a hair left uncut.
In her hands, the process is quick and painless.
Suddenly, the sound stops.
She rubs my head one more time and my heart jumps.
“All done!” she said as she walks across the tile.
My eyes stay shut, comfortable in their stasis.
Maybe if I don’t open them my hair won’t leave.
I know it isn’t true.
But, now I have to see the result of the wonderful process.
Will it be better than those few minutes of heaven!
I don’t wanna know.
“It won’t hurt to open your eyes,” I tell myself.
Her voice is close.
She snuck up on me while I was lost in thought.
“It looks good,” her vocal said out gently, above the buzz of the lights in the bathroom.
“Or, at least I think it does,” she told me.
“You have to decide that for yourself.”
“And, if I don’t like it?” I ask hesitantly.
“You will,” she relied.
“And, if I don’t?” I ask once more.
“You will,” she says with more force.
I gulp and take a deep breath.
I open my eyes.
It’s the heaviest thing I’ve ever lifted and the rewards are equal.
Or, I hope they are.
I can’t tell.
It looks strange.
The shape of my skull is prominent in the mirror, leaving my blue eyes unguarded.
Only a thick blond fuzz remains on my head.
And, between the bristles my scalp reflects yellow light.
But, I like something about it.
I stand up and my knees don’t buckle by some miracle.
I walk forward towards the mirror, trying to get a better look.
I press my stomach into the counter as I lean in and examine it.
Searching for errors, or love, or something.
I don’t know.
Captured by the uniform wave of yellow points.
I touch it with my own fingers.
But, puzzlingly soft.
Somehow more mesmerizing than the look of it.
I don’t know how long I’m there.
But, she wakes me from my trance after a time with slender fingers on my exposed head.
“Weird, yet so good, huh?” she says with a laugh and a smile.
I turn around and the hair is gone from the floor. Tossed into a trash can.
No longer has any use.
The chair is folded and set against the counter by her block box.
“Do I need to pay you, or…?” I ask.
“Nah, the experience is payment enough,” she said leaving my side and put the chair under her arm with the black box hanging in her hand from its plastic handle.
“Just call me when you need it cut again, okay?” she said.
I can’t stop her as she leaves, pushes the metallic door open with a screech and a, “Take care!”
Leaving me stranding.
All these things she stirred within me.
And, like a spoiled brat, she has left me wanting more.