Thea Beats the Heat

It was a hot Tuesday noon in August, and the hottest day of the year (yet). Thea had called in sick to get some rest, exhausted after a grueling 10-hour shift the day before. Even with the blinds down, the air in her apartment was hot and stale. She was sweating profusely, and going out into the scorching heat was unthinkable.

So far, Thea had managed to do exactly three things after sleeping in:

1. Getting up and making herself a cup of coffee
2. Taking a shower (bless the cool water!)
3. Plummeting onto the couch

After hours of lazing, she eventually figured that she’d die of boredom if she didn’t at least try to be productive. The task she set herself was to assemble a small organizer shelf for her hobby desk. Its packaging had already collected a thin layer of dust, which gave a good indication of how frequently she’d actually use her hobby desk.

The Bluetooth speakers in the corners quietly hummed some ‘Top 50 Summer Hits‘ playlist on Spotify, which didn’t really help feel any less hot. Now, Thea could have changed the music if she’d not left her phone on the nightstand. She sat hunched over the couch table, seething, while wrestling with her assembly project. The problem was that the cheaply-made thing, purchased at the furniture store, didn’t seem to want to be assembled. Not a single screw fit right without having to warp the metal pieces. She wedged the piece between her thighs so that she could at least keep a steady hold of it. More than once, she slipped with her screwdriver, leaving nasty scratches on the surface.

To add to her frustration, her hair constantly got into her face while she sat hunched over her assembly. After the shower, she hadn’t blow-dried it (for fear of dying of heatstroke). As a result, the now dry lengths of her hair felt like straw, while the roots and her scalp were still wet and uncomfortably itchy. After brushing the same stubborn strand of hair behind her ear for what felt like the hundredth time, Thea finally snapped. She jumped up and stormed into the bathroom.

–

The fluorescent light didn’t help the unflattering image she saw in the mirror: No makeup, a sweaty forehead, and her tousled russet mane. It was a shade darker near her head, where it was still damp, and lighter towards the tips. Thea usually kept her hair in a ponytail, even at home. She grabbed her brush and brushed furiously through her locks, tugging painfully at some tangles.

She took a hair tie from the shelf under the mirror and hastily secured her hair in a messy bun. It, however, tugged uncomfortably at her scalp, adding to her irritation rather than alleviating it. Thea, frustrated, yanked her hair loose again and steadied with both hands on the sink. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped tightly, forcing herself to breathe slowly. She was acutely aware of how drenched and sticky she was, and could hardly stand her own messy reflection. Her eyes wandered down and spotted her hair scissors amidst the scattered beauty products on the shelf.

Curious, she grabbed them. ‘Could I…?‘ she wondered. (She should have asked herself, ‘Should I?’, but all she could think about was how much her hair irked her at that moment.) Without wasting another thought, she grabbed her hair in a ponytail, twisted it to hold it more securely, and began cutting it at the base of her neck. The scissors had a hard time getting through Thea’s thick mane, but after hacking at it a few times, a foot of hair eventually came loose.

With scissors in one hand and the lopped-off hair in the other, Thea stared into the mirror. She probably should have questioned her sanity at this point, but she couldn’t help but smile at the reduced weight on her head. She dropped the severed ponytail into the sink and tried to get a better look at herself. Obviously, the cut was horribly lopsided and uneven. However, swooshing her now bob-length hair around, she could finally feel the relief of a cool breeze on her sweaty neck.

Now the question arose: how to fix this?

–

Thea chewed her lips, a knot of anxiety forming in her chest. Should she risk making things worse by trying to even it out herself, or drive to a salon, praying they could salvage this mess? A third option revealed itself when she remembered that her boyfriend stored his hair clippers in the cupboard under the sink. He was out of town for work and only spent the weekends at her apartment.

She dropped the scissors, crouched down, and pulled open the doors of the cabinet. Sure enough, the clippers were there. She grabbed them and came up so quickly she felt a bit light-headed (she also only barely avoided hitting her head on the sink). She plugged the device into the outlet and flicked it on. ‘This is crazy, right?‘ she (probably rightfully) doubted herself, but somehow, the steady whirr of the clippers reassured her that this was a brilliant idea.

She briefly considered whether she’d bother with an attachment or go with the bare blades, but decided against it. She pressed the cool metal of the clippers against her right sideburn and pulled them backwards before any more doubts could manifest. The machine effortlessly sheared off a strip of hair over her ear.
Thea gasped in surprise. With her free hand, she held up the longer hair to examine the stark contrast of the freshly shorn stubble. A jolt of excitement raced through her as she grinned at her reflection. She placed the clippers at her temple and eagerly pushed them back into her hair. She noticed the minute change in the buzzing sound as another section was severed. After a third and fourth pass, the right side of her head – and some of the top – was now neatly clipped short.

She turned the clippers off and set them down for a moment. The raspy texture of the stubble felt strange under her sweaty palms, but when Thea turned her head, she felt the gentle draft from the bathroom ventilation on her scalp. She absolutely loved this cool sensation, and was eager to feel it all over her head. Thus, she picked up the clippers again and continued by shaving off the hair on the left side as well.

Finally, only a strip of longer locks in the middle remained. Thea placed the clippers in the center of her forehead and delightfully ran them over the top of her head. She made sure she got everything by running the clippers over her head a few more times from different angles. Then she turned them off for good. Only a layer of russet stubble remained of her mane, plus a sink full of foot-long tresses.

Thea stroked the bristly fuzz, still unsure if she liked how it felt – she’d at least have to admit: it looked great on her. Her head had a nice roundish shape, neither overly small nor too large to pull this style off. (Also, thankfully, her scalp, now on full display, was only a shade paler than her usual skin tone.)
She hopped into the shower for the second time this day, squeaking with bliss as the cool water hit her head, providing instant relief from the oppressive heat.

This time, she didn’t even have to think about drying her hair afterward.

Author’s Note: I’ve been in the mood for writing again recently! I hope you enjoy this short story.

– rightdownthemiddle

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