bymbys
The doorbell rang, and the woman got up from the table to answer it. She glanced at her daughter, who was finishing her dinner. Turning the key in the lock, she found a tall man standing before her. She stood there, surprised, with a foolish expression. After a moment, she threw herself into his arms.
“Welcome home. You came back earlier than planned.”
“Yeah, we wrapped up the mission a little quicker. The guys stayed at the base, and I rushed home to my treasures.”
He ruffled her hair and kissed her. His eyes landed on the little girl.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
He hugged her and kissed her forehead.
“What did you have for dinner? Instant noodles?”
“I didn’t have time to cook something decent. If I had known you were coming, I would’ve made something better. Wait, I’ll go get some wine.”
The woman disappeared into another room. The girl looked at her father.
“All week, we’ve been eating noodles. I walk to school on foot and make my own lunches. Something’s wrong with Mom, Daddy.”
“Strange, she seems full of energy.”
The man looked around the house. Indeed, it was neglected. Dust covered the shelves, cobwebs hung in the corners, and sand could be felt underfoot.
“Don’t worry. Daddy is home, everything will be fine. Go to bed now.”
He kissed her forehead again, and the girl ran to her room. A moment later, the woman returned with the wine.
“I found my favorite one.”
She quickly cleared the table, and they sat across from each other.
“How was it? Did you have any adv—”
“Why is our house such a mess? There are cobwebs, dust, and sand everywhere. Our daughter said you’ve been eating only instant noodles for a week, and she has to make her own lunches.”
Nervously, the woman began braiding her dark hair.
“No, you see… She’s very indepe—”
“And what about the mess in the house?!”
He slammed his fist on the table. Tears began rolling down her cheeks.
“What have you been doing all this time? Meeting someone? Partying?”
“No… Actually, I’ve just been staying at home.”
She stroked her braid. Then she began to unravel it. The man grabbed his head.
“No, you see, you don’t notice anything but your hair. Woman, don’t you think something is wrong when instead of taking care of the child and our home, you just play with your hair?!”
“But it’s the most precious thing I have!”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I take extra missions, risk my life so we can afford a good car, and our daughter walks to school while you braid your hair? This can’t go on.”
“But I don’t know how to be different. My hair is what I know best.”
“It’s time to learn something new. But to make time for that, you need to get rid of distractions. Your hair must go.”
“Oh, you’re exaggerating. I promise that from now on, I’ll take better care of the house.”
“No, your chance is gone. I can’t risk coming home next time and finding there’s nothing left to come back to. You’re going to the salon tomorrow to get your hair cut.”
His voice became firm, as if he were giving orders to a soldier. The woman clutched her hair protectively.
“You’re not my commander. I’m just as much an adult as you are. No one touches my hair.”
“You’re mistaken. You’re acting like you’re 11, not 27. Open your eyes—you messed up. Now, call and make an appointment for a haircut.”
“No way, leave me alone.”
The man stood up and grabbed her arm. He lifted her from the chair and began dragging her toward the bathroom. She struggled, hitting his muscular chest.
“What are you doing?! Let me go, brute!”
Ignoring her protests, he walked into the bathroom with her. He shoved her head under the shower and doused her with cold water. The woman screamed in surprise and fear. Eventually, she lost her strength and surrendered. With dripping wet hair and her head bowed, she sat on the toilet, quietly sobbing. Her hair reached down to her buttocks. She sneezed. The man lifted her chin.
“Look me in the eyes. I love you, but I won’t let something as trivial as your hair be the reason our daughter and home are neglected. Maybe once hair is no longer your priority and you develop good habits, you’ll be able to take care of what we have and grow your beautiful long hair back. Hey, I don’t want you to catch a cold—better change out of those wet clothes.”
She sniffled and brushed the wet strands from her face. She took off her shirt and threw it into the corner. The man picked up a comb and scissors. He combed her hair evenly and placed the scissors at jaw length. He looked into his wife’s eyes one last time and squeezed the blades shut. A lifeless handful of wet hair fell onto her shoulder. With her other hand, she brushed it off onto the floor. The man evened out the cut with a comb and prepared for the next snip. The woman calmed her breathing, accepting the change. A loud snap signaled another chunk was gone. She felt the cold, lifeless curls on her shoulder but didn’t even brush them away. The man continued cutting.
Comb, snip, comb, snip.
More and more hair gathered on her lap and knees. She couldn’t see her new hairstyle, but the pile on her lap told her it was a drastic change. As he moved to the other side, she touched her cut hair. It ended just at her jawline.
“So short. I won’t even be able to tie it back.”
“Maybe you can do two small ponytails on the sides. That’d look cute.”
“I’ll look like a little girl.”
“Well, that fits—you’ve been acting like one.”
“Jerk.”
“I love you too.”
He kissed her forehead. He made a few final adjustments, then stepped back to see if everything was even.
“All done. I’m going to finish the wine. You clean up this hair.”
He left, and the woman was alone. Slowly, she stood up. The heap of hair slid off her lap onto the floor. A giant pile formed at her feet. She swallowed hard and crouched down to gather the strands she had braided just 11 minutes ago.
The next morning, the man was woken by the sound of the door slamming. Surprised, he realized his wife was no longer in bed. He got up and walked to the kitchen. Everything was neatly arranged and swept. He smiled to himself—the drastic change must have worked. Then he heard movement in the bathroom. He approached and opened the door. His wife stood before the mirror, curling her hair with an iron. She turned to him and smiled.
“Good morning, dear.”
“Hey, sweetheart. I see you cleaned the kitchen.”
She looked at him, surprised, not stopping her work with the curling iron.
“That wasn’t me. It was your wonderful daughter.”
Then it hit the man. Nothing had changed.
-You are impossible. Yesterday I cut off ¾ of your hair so you could focus on your daughter, but that’s not enough. That’s not enough! Your hair really needs to disappear completely.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.
-What’s wrong with you? What are you forcing me to do? What are you presenting yourself as?
He grabbed her curling iron and threw it into the shower. The woman looked at him, not understanding.
-What are you on about? The kitchen is tidy.
-But you were supposed to do it. Not our 11-year-old daughter. Take an example from her, woman. This 11-year-old is more mature than you.
He grabbed her by the hair.
-This needs to disappear.
It finally got through to her. Her eyes widened and she paled.
– W-what do you mean, disappear? I’m not going to have hair? Like some old man? Do you want a bald wife? Do you think that if you make me ugly, it’ll be better for you? You sadist!
– This isn’t a punishment. I’m not doing this for satisfaction, but out of necessity. This house will fall apart if you don’t take care of it.
– Why me? You’re the man here!
– I work far from home. The only thing I can do is make sure that you’re able to take care of everything. But you can’t manage as long as you have hair. I thought that if you had a short haircut, you’d rearrange your priorities. But NO! …I don’t want a bald wife. I’m going to cut your hair as short as possible while still making sure you look good. Maybe even more attractive… After all, you’re my wife, I love you.
The woman slowly began to understand the situation.
– It’s painful, but I see where you’re going with this. You’re right.
Resigned, she sat down on the toilet. The same one where she had lost most of her hair the night before. Now, the man bent down and pulled out a dusty hair clipper from under the sink. He plugged it in. The bathroom filled with the menacing hum of long-unused mechanisms. The woman glanced at the device and obediently lowered her head.
– I’m going to give you a military haircut. A flat top. It’ll be short, but still stylish.
He quickly ran a comb through her hair and guided the clipper along her temple. A small tuft of hair fell to the floor, leaving behind a short stubble on her head. She immediately reached up with her hand.
– Damn, that’s short.
– Still too long.
The man removed the clipper guard. Now, the naked blades were visible, ready to rip through anything in their path. He pressed the tool against his wife’s temple again and pushed upward. This time, bare skin appeared.
– Yes, this is just right.
– I’ll be bald…
– You won’t be.
The man slowly but steadily shaved the side of his wife’s head. More dark clumps of hair fell to the floor. After a moment, the side was clean. A strong hand gently pushed her head down until her chin touched her chest. The clippers now cleared the nape of her neck and the back of her head. Then, her head was tilted to the other side, and the buzzing moved near her ear. Within minutes, the sides and back of her head were pale and smooth. The only remaining hair was a messy patch on top.
The man ruffled the disheveled tuft. He looked at his wife’s face. She sat quietly, head bowed. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He stroked her gently, running his hand through the last of her hair.
Just a day ago, his wife had a thick mane of black curls reaching her hips.
The man picked up the comb.
– Just a little more, sweetheart, and we’ll be done.
He slid the comb under the front section of her hair, lifting it slightly. Then, he ran the clipper over it, hungry for more victims. A cascade of her once-long locks fell in front of her face, landing on her lap. The man continued his work. Soon, the top of her head was left with only a flat carpet of hair. He ran his hand over it—it looked perfect. But something was missing.
– I’ll add something special at the end. A little detail.
He placed the clipper, now guardless, at the back of her head and pushed straight forward, stopping a few centimeters before the hairline. Now, there was a flat carpet of hair with a white stripe running down the middle.
The woman didn’t even react. She had become indifferent.
But the man was proud of himself.
– A beautiful horseshoe cut. Look, sweetheart, a masterpiece.
The woman stood up, dusted her head and shoulders off from the tiny hairs, and looked in the mirror. Then, she burst into tears. She stood there, sobbing, as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The man gently wrapped his large arms around her, pulling her small head against his chest. He bent
down and kissed the top of her head.
Her bald too of the head.
