Freedom

The thought of having my head shaved haunted and excited me more than anything else. It could follow me even in dreams

 

…

 

A small unisex barber shop stood in the middle of a fairly deserted street. The person running it was a moderately heavy woman. Her body features appeared more suited to a truck driver. The cut on her head was even more masculine than everything else. A flattop with completely shaved sides, as deserted as the street the shop door faced.

 

The barber shop was quite sparse, both in furnishings and equipment. The counter was completely absent. The cash register was located directly in the woman’s pockets. The workstations were all on the back wall. Perhaps this position was chosen due to the fact that the woman would thus be able to see the customers entering without having to be excessively distracted by the customers sit in the chairs. The chairs were very simple as they had light padding on the seat and on the backrest (now hard due to wear), supported by the usual single leg which serves to raise the chair to be more comfortable during cutting. In front of the mirror, the usual shelf with drawers on one side. The walls on the sides had waiting chairs, the one on the right, three to be exact, and the one on the left a single sink to wash your hair, all dusty. On the window it was simply written ‘BARBER’ and another writing: ‘ENTER ALREADY WITH YOUR HAIR WASHED’. That explains the dust. As for the equipment, well, there’s not much to say. It was mainly made up of razors, both electric and non-electric, a single pair of scissors, a comb, a hairdryer, a brush and many, too many razors. You could well imagine which of these she preferred to work with.

 

The shop was completely colored grey. Exactly the color that best reflected the woman who ran it. The place where it was located was a kind of neighborhood-town. A small suburb that serves as a gateway to the city centre. Obviously I don’t say what color the sky was always. Like that of the entire city, after all. Other people’s happiness was not something welcome. But this would have been seen immediately.

 

At a certain point, a car parks on the other side of the road. It had arrived with a whirlwind. She stopped immediately as soon as she pulled up to the curb. A woman dressed in 1910s style stepped out of the driver’s seat. With a brisk pace she walked around the vehicle and opened the door of the seat next to her.

 

“Get out!” she said, looking somewhat peeved.

 

“But mum…”

 

“GET OUT I SAID!”

 

The woman took by the arm a girl who looked very shy and ashamed. She was her daughter. She was dressed almost like her mother. Her hair was loose, dark blonde, very dull. It reached about halfway down her back but at that moment they were gathered in a way so that appeared like a shoulder-length bob. Her movements were very clumsy and awkward and the scholar’s glasses certainly didn’t help the girl appear more haughty and elegant as her mother would have liked.

 

She, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Full of pride in showing off her brown hair, perfectly straight and well-groomed, just a little longer than her daughter’s.

 

That morning, in their house, what her daughter had always feared had happened.

 

Her mother forced her to look like her in every way. And this is why she always subjected her to unnerving exercises on posture and elegance. Of course, her daughter was a completely different kind of person, the one who likes to study and not seem too flashy. It was a constant failure of exercise after exercise. But that morning was the straw that broke the camel’s back. After yet another fall during the exercise where you have to hold books on your head without dropping them, her mother suddenly blurted out.

 

“C’mon! Is it possible that you will never succeed in what you are told to do? You will never be the same as me if you continue like this!”

 

After the constant criticism that was made of her, she finally took courage and responded.

 

“Maybe I don’t want to become like you!”

 

Bad answer.

 

“Very good then. I’ll make sure you don’t look like me anymore.”

 

She took her arm and carried her upstairs, where she took her to the bathroom. She made her undress and get into the tub.

 

“Let’s start washing you from top to bottom.”

 

The poor girl didn’t even have the time to answer that her mother immediately rolled up her sleeves and dipped her hand to soap her daughter’s body and hair. The woman was much more restless than usual. Her gaze fell mainly on the girl’s long hair which was floating in that small and uncomfortable tub. She spent many hours drying and combing her daughter’s hair, so much that it was already 3 pm. ‘Why is she taking such care of my hair? She had never done it ‘ thought her daughter.

 

“Enjoy them in these last moments.”

 

The girl still didn’t understand what her mother had in store for her. She rushed her down to the car. Back where we arrived.

 

They crossed the street until they arrived in front of the shop. They entered. A wiry woman was sitting in one of the waiting chairs. She seemed almost as if she had foreseen their entrance and had been waiting for them.

 

“Good evenin’,” the woman said mischievously.

 

“Good evening,” her mother promptly replied with her daughter’s arm at hand.

 

“How can I help you?”

 

“I came for a haircut.”

 

“Just one? Or both?”

 

The mother thought for a moment and then replied “Both”. She was even crueler than she actually was.

 

“Who wants to be first?”

 

“I’ll go first.” The mother abandoned her daughter on the waiting chairs while she went to the mirror to sit.

 

A cape loomed before her gaze. It was about to land on her.

 

“How do you want them?”

 

“Just a slight trim.”

 

“Roger.”

 

The woman took out the only pair of scissors she had and began cutting off the lady’s brown tips.

 

Her daughter didn’t understand. She took a look around her and noticed that on the window it said that her hair had to be washed before she came in. She began to sense something but everything was still very dark.

 

A few minutes later, the woman had already finished cutting her mother. The girl began to get up, as she had always done in previous times when she had come to get a haircut with her mother, obviously not in that shop. Getting up she saw an array of razors on the shelves of the different stations. She thought it very strange and unusual for a place where women also came to get their hair cut.

 

The mother stood up and took her daughter by the shoulders from behind her.

 

She then whispered in her ear “You want to be different from me, don’t you? Then I’ll satisfy you right away.”

 

With one gesture she almost seemed to throw her into the masculine woman’s arms.

 

“Take care of her.”

 

She sat her down and turned the chair towards the mirror. With the same movements as before, she placed the cape around the girl’s neck.

 

“How do we do it for her instead?”

 

“This morning she said she didn’t want to look like me anymore. I have to deduce that she wants to be the complete opposite. I believe you are the right person to implement this change.”

 

“Can you give me some clues, ma’am?”

 

“I love my hair very much. As you can see, I give the impression that I take great care of it, and in fact I do. I think she doesn’t have much time to devote to hers since she is busier reading her books instead. She won’t mind a shorter style.”

 

“You mean…”

 

“Shave everything off. She will be the exact opposite of me. Exactly how she wanted.”

 

“I understand.”

Now everything made sense. The phrase she had said to her while she was drying her hair, that place full of razors she had never seen before. It was all part of her mother’s plan. Even trimming her hair made sense now. Cutting your hair, even just a little, helps to strengthen it and make it grow more. Her mother had made fun of her. She had reaffirmed her supremacy over her by strengthening her hair, while her daughter would soon be completely shaved and left without a hair.

 

“Silence, you ungrateful girl! You should thank me instead. I’m giving you the chance to make your wish come true.”

 

Small sobs were now coming out of the girl.

 

“Now I’m going out. When I come back I want it to be unrecognizable. Erase all from her head.”

 

“All all?”

 

“ALL.”

 

With those words, her mother left. Only her poor daughter remained, sitting and waiting for her destiny to be fulfilled, and the woman, impatient to carry out the lady’s orders.

 

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure even you won’t recognize yourself in the mirror. After I’m done with you, you’re gonna be so smooth, even your hair will have a hard time growing back. Naughty little girls must be punished appropriately. But you’re lucky. Your mother has decided to punish you in a way that will make you happy. She made the right decision to take you to me. You know, little girl, I’m famous in this town for working mostly with razors. What better way to no longer look like your mother? If she has very long hair, you won’t even have a hair left on your head. You’ll see how you feel afterwards.”

 

The girl decided to give up. It would have been of no use rebelling against that woman and her mother. She recognized the supremacy to which she was subjected. She took off her glasses. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, now dry from her tears.

 

“Do what you have to.”

 

“You finally understood the enormous opportunity you were given.”

 

The woman prepared to shave off every little lock on the girl’s head, when she suddenly noticed that the girl’s hair did not stop at her shoulders. She took the hairpin that held everything together and a cascade of dull blonde hair appeared in front of her.

 

“Well well. What do we have here? You were keeping them from me, weren’t you?”

 

The girl continued to keep her head down, her eyes hidden by her long hair.

 

“Very good then. There will be a lot of fun. Since they are so long and I haven’t cut anything like this in forever, I’m going to have some fun with them. You don’t mind if I take extra time on your cut, do you?”

 

Always silence.

 

“I’ll pretend you agree.”

 

The razor could wait. There was so much hair to cut and the woman didn’t know where to start. She picked up the only scissors in the salon and began to cut the hair on the girl’s face. A clean cut and now there was an uneven bang on the girl’s forehead. She then decided to pass on the back of her neck. She placed the scissors as close to the scalp as possible and she proceeded to cut away the entire back. She then took a bowl and put it on the girl’s head. The scissors went around the head and a multitude of locks fell to the floor. The bob that the girl now had on her head was all frayed and uneven like her fringe.

 

“How cute you are,” she said mockingly.

 

The scissors were now right at the hairline on her forehead. They made the same motion as when the cut was guided by the bowl. The longest remaining hair now formed a sort of brush on the top of the girl’s head. They were slightly longer than the ones on the barberette’s top.

 

“How much fun I had today! But enough playing now little girl. It’s time for me to take care of you for good.”

 

The scissors that until now had happily “played” with her hair were placed in the drawer of the shelf. In their place, in the woman’s hand, there was now a clipper. A ‘POP’ sound filled the shop. A sign that indicated that she was preparing to end it all. The girl’s face had now become impassive at that woman’s lucid madness moment.

 

The cold blades of the electric razor passed across the middle of the girl’s forehead and consequently across her entire head. It was inevitable. There was no turning back. Stripe upon stripe of shaved hair began to form in the poor girl’s hair. When everything seemed to be over, the woman put the tool down. From one of the drawers she took out some hair removal cream. Not even a shaving cream, a depilatory cream. A sign that the woman wanted to make sure the girl remembered her and her lesson. She put some on her hands and then spread it all over her now shaved head.

 

“With the hair removal cream we will make sure that your hair does not grow for a while. Your wish is about to come true, princess.”

 

The woman took one of the many razors from the shelf. She placed it on the girl’s forehead.

 

“You will see. You won’t even be able to recognize yourself with the head I’ll make of you.”

 

The razor ran all over her head, until it reached the nape . The woman felt a great sense of excitement in passing the razor over a head that just before had very long hair. She felt almost proud that they had chosen her for that cut.

 

“Now that I use it, I have to remember to cut mine one of these times too.”

 

Then she passed on the sides of her and finally, the back of her neck. She did a quick against the grain and then rinsed the girl’s head.

 

“And voilà. The young lady is served. Not even a hair left, as had been requested. Now you and your mother will be happy with the result.”

 

The girl finally decided to look up at her. She saw her head stripped of the hair she had worked so hard to grow. No. Her mother had forced her to grow it, not her.

 

A strong sense of anger and resolution ignited within her. Now she understood. That experience of hers had helped her understand who she really wanted to be. She was happy that she no longer looked like her mother. She had decided that for the rest of her life, after her hair became long enough like her mother’s, she would always shave her hair clean, in a sense of complete freedom from her mother.

 

The doorbell rang and the door opened again. Her mother appeared.

 

“Very good. I hope you have learned your lesson now.”

 

The girl remained with her back towards her mother and her gaze turned towards the mirror. She saw her. Now no one would have said they were related. She then turned around. She walked towards her mother. She thought about her words and those of the woman. ‘You should thank me instead’. And so she did.

 

She put her glasses back on and said “Thank you. Now I’m finally as I wished to be.”

 

…

 

That morning I found myself all wet with sweat and something else. As perverse and horrible as it may be in the eyes of many… for me… it was beautiful.

 

Next part — Respect