The Call

Sue stepped back into the pilot house and took her usual seat in the co-pilot’s chair beside Malcolm.
Malcolm was still at the helm of their twenty-five-foot Bayliner Trophy, keeping a steady course across Lake Michigan. Behind them, the old wooden 1963 Trojan continued following on the towline.
Sue settled into her seat and looked over at her husband.
“You’re not going to believe what Christina is out there thinking.”
Malcolm glanced at her.
“We’re out on Lake Michigan, hauling a boat that’s older than half the people we know. There are plenty of legends about boats and the lake. Never mind all that. What’s she thinking?”
Sue hesitated.
“Try me,” Malcolm said.
“Christina thinks that woman who shaved her head wanted her hair because she’s a witch.”
Malcolm looked over.
“A witch?”
“Apparently. Christina thinks she wanted her hair so she could cast some kind of spell to make sure that old boat gets wherever we’re taking it safely.”
Malcolm looked through the windshield and then checked the Trojan behind them.
“Well, I’m all for that kind of spell. If she can keep that damn thing floating, she can cast whatever she wants.”
Sue laughed.
“I’m serious,” Malcolm continued. “If that thing goes down and takes this boat with it, there goes half our yearly income.”
He paused.
“And I do mean our yearly income. The girls are running the charter operation now. You’re helping with the bookkeeping for both businesses, and I’m concentrating on the radio advertisements.”
“I know that.”
“I’m sure we’d survive on what I make doing radio advertising. But then what would the kids have? They’ve got something going for themselves now. Christina’s got her captain’s license, they’re learning how to run a business, and they’re making money doing something they actually enjoy.”
He shook his head.
“I’m not about to lose this boat because somebody wanted to drag a rotten old wooden Trojan halfway across Lake Michigan.”
For a few moments, neither said anything.
Sue watched the water passing alongside the boat.
Then she turned toward Malcolm.
“What if I wanted to shave my head?”
Malcolm glanced over.
“What?”
“What if I decided I wanted to shave my head? Would that be a problem?”
He smiled.
“The shorter, the better.”
Sue studied his expression.
“So I wouldn’t get two years of punishment if I went ahead and did it?”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Sue sat back.
“Well, if I’m not going to get punished for it, maybe I’ll go ahead and call and make an appointment.”
“Do what you’ve gotta do.”
He looked over again, smiling.
Sue took that as a pretty good indication that he was serious.
She reached for her cell phone.
She still had the number of the woman who had cut her hair into a bob just the other day. In fact, she had been thinking about calling her again anyway.
She found the number and pressed the button.
After a few rings, a woman answered.
“Denise’s Barber Shop.”
“Hello?”
“Hi, Susan.”
Sue looked at the phone.
“How did you know it was me?”
Denise laughed.
“Caller ID, Susan. You were just here the other day. I remember my customers.”
“Oh. Right.”
Sue felt a little foolish.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about a haircut you gave my daughter earlier today.”
There was a short pause.
“Christina?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what would you like to discuss? I thought everything was pretty straightforward.”
Sue shifted in her seat.
“Well, we’re just trying to figure out exactly what happened.”
“Nothing happened that your daughter didn’t agree to,” Denise replied. “If you’re concerned that I forced her into having her head shaved, I can assure you I didn’t.”
“I didn’t say you forced her.”
“Good. Because I didn’t.”
Denise paused.
“Actually, I got the impression your daughter had recently accomplished something important in her life.”
Sue glanced at Malcolm.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because of the way she carried herself. She seemed confident, but at the same time, I got the feeling she was ready for some kind of change. When I offered her the opportunity to have her head shaved, she really didn’t fight the idea.”
“That’s unusual for Christina.”
“Maybe. But I wondered whether she might be interested in Wicca.”
Sue looked at Malcolm again.
“Why?”
“Well, some people use hair cutting or shaving as a personal ritual. A way of marking a new beginning, an accomplishment, or leaving something behind. Not everybody who practices Wicca does that, of course. But I wondered if she had recently reached some milestone and wanted to commemorate it.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows.
They both knew Christina had recently obtained her captain’s license.
They also knew she had been reading about Wicca.
Sue, however, wasn’t about to volunteer either piece of information.
“No,” she said. “I really don’t think anything monumental has happened recently. In fact, sometimes I feel like she’s going to be one of those kids who peaked in high school.”
Denise was quiet for a moment.
“Well, Susan, I would strongly disagree with that.”
Sue frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I think your daughter has a great deal going for her. Maybe you should spend a little more time getting to know what she’s interested in and what she’s accomplishing.”
Sue didn’t answer.
“And besides,” Denise continued, “her aura was very yellow.”
“Her what?”
“Her aura. I saw a very strong yellow around her.”
Sue looked toward Malcolm, who was listening to every word over the speakerphone.
“And what exactly is a yellow aura supposed to mean?”
“Well, in the way I interpret auras, yellow represents confidence, optimism, intellectual growth, personal power, and new opportunities. It’s a color I often associate with somebody discovering what they’re capable of doing.”
Malcolm gave Sue a knowing look.
Denise continued.
“Your daughter seemed like somebody who had recently discovered she could do more than people expected of her. That’s why I thought she might have accomplished something important.”
Sue sat silently.
“Of course,” Denise added, “that’s my spiritual interpretation. It isn’t something I can scientifically prove.”
Sue finally spoke.
“So besides being a barber, you read people’s auras?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And you actually believe you can see these colors around people?”
“I do. Not everybody believes in it, and that’s perfectly fine.”
Denise laughed softly.
“Besides, I’m sure Jerry down at the docks already told you I was a witch.”
Sue straightened in her seat.
“Excuse me?”
“Jerry. Down at the marina. He likes telling people I’m a witch. So I figured somebody had probably warned you about me already.”
“Well, no. I haven’t talked to my father-in-law or my daughter about anybody being a witch. Nobody told me you were a witch, and nobody told me Jerry said you were one.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, Jerry certainly likes telling people that. I suppose he thinks it’s funny.”
Sue looked at Malcolm.
He shook his head, apparently just as confused as she was.
“Anyway,” Denise continued, “how is the older gentleman doing?”
“Who?”
“The gentleman who came to look at the boat. Christina’s grandfather.”
“Oh. He’s sleeping.”
“Sleeping?”
“Yes. He’s in the little cabin up front. He’s been resting for a while.”
“Well, is he all right?”
“As far as I know. Why?”
Denise hesitated.
“Because when I met him, his aura appeared very gray.”
Sue looked at Malcolm.
“Gray?”
“Yes. Gray is a color I associate with uncertainty, emotional exhaustion, sadness, or somebody going through a period of transition. Sometimes it suggests that a person is struggling to figure out where they belong.”
Sue thought about that.
“Well, he recently retired.”
“That would make sense.”
“He worked most of his life. Now he’s trying to find his place. I think that’s part of why he wanted this boat so badly. He thought it would give him something to do.”
“Then perhaps it will.”
Sue looked out at the Trojan.
“Provided we can get the thing there.”
Denise laughed.
“I understand. But I really do think that boat could be good for him. Sometimes people need a project. Something to give them purpose.”
“Well, he’s certainly got himself a project.”
“My husband and I absolutely loved that boat,” Denise said, her voice softening.
Sue listened.
“We spent some wonderful times on it. Unfortunately, my husband passed away, and I just couldn’t keep up with everything myself.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. He knew so much more about maintaining that boat than I did. There were things he could do that I simply didn’t have the skills or ability to do myself. And wooden boats require a lot of attention.”
“Believe me, we know boats can be a lot of work,” Sue replied. “We’ve been around them for years. And to tell you the truth, a wooden boat wouldn’t have been our first choice.”
“I understand.”
“But it’s what he wanted.”
“And perhaps that’s what matters.”
Denise paused.
“You know, one of the reasons my husband and I loved that particular boat was because it was made of wood.”
Sue smiled faintly.
“Most people would consider that a disadvantage.”
“Perhaps. But we looked at it differently. That wood was once alive. It came from trees, from nature. And somebody took that living material and built something that allowed us to go out and explore nature.”
Sue listened without interrupting.
“We could take that boat out onto the lake, away from the noise and the traffic and everything else, and just enjoy being surrounded by water and sky. There was something very special about that to us.”
For a moment, Denise said nothing.
Then she asked, “So how are things going with the boat?”
Sue looked through the rear window.
The Trojan was still following behind them.
“Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
“How do things usually go when you cast a spell?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Excuse me?”
Sue smiled slightly.
“My daughter is standing out on the back deck right now, watching that old boat. And she’s convinced that you wanted her hair because you were going to use it to cast some kind of spell to make sure the boat got to its new home safely.”
Denise didn’t immediately answer.
Malcolm leaned a little closer, listening.
Finally, Denise spoke.
“Well, Susan, wouldn’t that be in your best interest?”
“What?”
“If I really were a witch, and if I really did cast a spell to protect that boat, wouldn’t that be something you’d want?”
Sue looked at Malcolm.
“Well, obviously I want the boat to get where it’s going safely.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t be so concerned about the possibility.”
“But did you actually—”
“Look, Susan, I’ve got another customer coming in.”
Sue stopped.
“We can talk about all of this some more when you come back to have your hair trimmed in three or four weeks.”
“Actually, I was thinking about coming in sooner.”
“That’s perfectly fine. We can change things up if you’d like. Maybe go a little shorter. Whatever makes you and your husband happy.”
Sue smiled.
“Well, I was actually thinking about something quite a bit shorter.”
“Then we’ll talk about it when you come in.”
Denise paused.
“And Susan?”
“Yes?”
“I hope things are going better between you and your husband. I remember what you told me the other day. I hope the two of you are finding your way back to each other.”
Sue glanced at Malcolm.
“Actually, things have been better.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Don’t worry. We’ll get things back on track. You take care of yourself, and I hope the rest of your trip goes smoothly.”
“Thank you.”
“Goodbye, Susan.”
“Goodbye, Denise.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, Malcolm said nothing.
He continued steering the Bayliner across the lake, occasionally checking the mirrors and looking behind them.
Finally, he turned toward Sue.
“You know this lady?”
Sue nodded.
“Well, yes. She’s the one who cut my hair the other day.”
“And you knew she owned that boat?”
“Not when I went there.”
Malcolm looked confused.
“Then how did you find out about it?”
“She had a flyer taped to the glass door of her barber shop. It was advertising the boat for sale. I saw it when I went to get my hair cut.”
Malcolm stared at her.
“That’s how you found this boat?”
“Yes.”
He looked back toward the Trojan.
Then he slammed the palm of his hand against the dashboard.
“Great!”
Sue jumped slightly.
“What’s wrong now?”
“What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong!”
He pointed behind them.
“I’m hauling a decrepit old wooden boat that was previously owned by a witch across Lake Michigan, with my good boat, which I need to keep in working order so my kids can earn a living!”
Sue started laughing.
Malcolm wasn’t finished.
“And apparently the witch who owned the damn thing shaved my daughter’s head and may or may not have cast some kind of spell on it!”
“Malcolm!”
“And now my wife is thinking about going back to the same witch to have her head shaved!”
Sue laughed harder.
Malcolm shook his head and looked back through the windshield.
“I swear, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.”
He checked the Trojan one more time.
“Well, if that woman really did cast a spell, she’d better have made it a good one. Because I want that damn boat delivered, I want my good boat back in its slip, and I want to be done with this whole adventure.”
Sue smiled.
“At least she seems to think everything is going to be fine.”
“Yeah, well, she isn’t the one burning fuel and dragging that thing across the lake.”
He adjusted the throttle slightly.
“And if she really is a witch, the least she could’ve done was cast a spell to make that old Trojan run under its own power.”
Sue burst out laughing again.
Malcolm couldn’t help smiling.
Behind them, the old wooden Trojan continued following steadily across Lake Michigan.

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