Victory

Summer was long gone and autumn didn’t take long to arrive. The hair on my head had grown back enough that I could comb it at least a little. I have to admit, I quite missed the feeling of the hand running through the soft hair. The bob was a distant memory. Now I had a disheveled cut, but still very short for the customers’ tastes. It was a subspecies of pixie cut performed with an electric razor. The heat wasn’t that big of a problem anymore but that wouldn’t stop me from doing it again one day, maybe not even far away.

 

The days got longer day after day at the salon but that didn’t make them boring and tiring.  Sometimes there were some days that made an exception to the rule but it didn’t last too long as everything was lightened by the sunset which painted the entire shop red. With the cooler weather arriving, the ‘short’ cuts had been transformed into simple styling and colour. I had almost completely lost all hope of seeing anyone come in and ask for my specialty.

 

Almost.

 

I don’t remember exactly what time of day it was but the sky was clear and the sun was beaming. I think it was a Thursday but I’m not sure. The customers I had just finished serving were satisfied. The shop went silent after the door bell rang. The silence remained for about a quarter of an hour during which I delighted in thinking what new type of cut I could try. Nostalgia led me to reflect on a long but easy to care style, while the memories of the razor on the scalp encouraged me to repeat my beloved headshave. I was very conflicted. I didn’t have time to finish the fight before the ringing of the bell rang again in my ears.

 

A crying girl had just entered. Her mascara was all over her cheekbones. The sobs filled the void that had formed in that quarter of an hour of silence. She appeared very slim and elegant in her clothing. Her hair was very long: it would have cleaned the floor if it hadn’t had immense volume but it stopped at her calves. Her color was a very light brown, honey mixed with hazelnut, close to the blonde of some of the locks on her forehead. Her facial features gave her a sweet and docile look.

 

She steeled herself and spoke to me.

 

“Greetings.”

 

“Hello. Everything okay?”

 

“Y-yeah…it’s just…that…”

 

Her words failed to come out and she started sobbing again.

 

“Come, sit down.”

 

The girl walked to one of the chairs and sat with her hands over her eyes, trying to hold back the tears.

 

“Need a tissue?”

 

“Yes please.”

 

“What brings you here in these conditions?”

 

I very carefully placed the cape around her neck, waiting for her response.

 

“It’s over.”

 

“What?”

 

“Our relationship. My boyfriend left me.”

 

“I am very sorry.”

 

“He said he couldn’t stand me anymore, I wasn’t the one he imagined. I tried to ask for explanations but he wouldn’t hear of it and left. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m destroyed. I can’t live without him.”

 

“Can I do something for you?”

 

“I thought that maybe by cutting my hair I would be able to ease the pain. If I can’t live without him, maybe by changing my life I will be able to recover. But maybe nothing will change and I won’t.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“It’s completely over now. I want to put everything behind me. Starting over from zero.”

 

“Then I have the right cut for you.”

 

“I don’t care about anything anymore. Do whatever you want with me. Shave me clean if you want. Nothing makes sense anymore anyway.”

 

“And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

 

“What?”

 

“Shaving you clean. It seems like a great idea to start over. Don’t worry about how you’ll look. I’m sure you’ll be even more beautiful than now.”

 

The girl closed her eyes and lowered her head on her chest.

 

“Courage. It’s not the end of the world to lose your boyfriend. There are many other guys in the world who perhaps deserve you even more than your ex deserved you. And then, at least, you had a boyfriend. ‘Better to have loved and then lost than not having loved at all’ they say, and believe me, if I tell you, I’ve never had a boyfriend in my life.”

 

Finally I was able to take out my beloved razors, with shaving foam attached. Everything was more than ready.

 

“You’re gonna be beautiful.”

 

One hand on the left shoulder and the razor ready to cut away everything on the right. This was the image of me just before the execution. Very gently I placed the vibrating blades on her forehead. Just a moment more and all the pain would be gone. I began. After a few seconds there was already no trace left of those unique blonde locks that adorned her face, the same goes for all the hair from the top to the nape. More than a meter of hair now lay on the ground in front of my feet. Only on other rare and few occasions had I been able to shave off such long hair. It seemed like a solemn event, an initiation rite for another life. I was the master of ceremonies for that sacred ceremony. My razors had the power of redemption and change. Nothing could have interrupted me at that moment.

 

Her immense mane was illuminated by the white rays of the sun that passed through the front door. The tears took over every characteristic of it. She had transformed into a goddess.

 

A first pass was followed by others all over her head, until her locks were completely shaved. Her eyes still remained closed and wet with tears.

 

I haven’t felt so in tune with myself in a long time. It always happens to me when I have to do this type of cut.

 

I did a quick against the grain with the electric one before moving on to the straight razor. On the shelf in front of the mirror there was always the can of shaving cream waiting to be picked up and used. And then I took it. I squirted a generous amount into one hand, brushed the girl’s head with the other to free it of any remaining stubble. Finally she could see clearly (but still not completely) the shape of her head. My hands sprinkled foam over the entire roughened surface. Although very short, her hair was still as soft as it had been when she showed up at the salon. They were incredible.

 

A gentle rinse of her hands and I was ready to finish the job. I slowly opened the razor blade. She had never seemed more beautiful to me.

 

“Finally see you again.”

 

As at the beginning of the cut, the blade was placed right on the girl’s forehead, as was my habit when starting shaves. Being very careful and with great care, I began to cut. The small locks from just before all piled up on the flat of the blade, without exception. I touched the spot where I ran the razor. It was perfectly smooth. Every little movement of my hand led inexorably to the loss of that magnificent hair. On the other hand, it was inevitable to succeed in the intent to reborn. I don’t think the girl felt the razor go over her head. She was too busy worrying about her problems, while I was busy getting rid of them. When even the last spot left on the girl’s head was completely shaved and free of any ‘concerns’, I decided to awaken her from that state of apparent semi-consciousness.

 

“Finished.”

 

Her gaze moved very slowly onto the mirror’s surface. From her look, to her words. The last.

 

“I won.”

 

 

I think with this you have understood who I am. Simply a girl who likes to help other people.

 

 

 

 

Ah…

 

 

And in any case…

 

 

I’m Emma.

 

THE END