Citizen

Chapter 2 - HALF A HEAD OF HAIR

The hospital released me shortly before sunrise.

No serious physical injuries.

Bruised wrists.

A strained shoulder.

Scrapes.

Shock.

My hair was different.

That felt stupid to care about.

But I did.

When we reached my apartment, I stood in the bathroom mirror and stared.

The left side was almost bare above my ear.

The right side still reached my shoulder.

Jagged strips remained where Tyler lost control of the clippers while laughing.

I touched the uneven hair.

Then started crying.

Rook remained in the hallway.

He did not enter.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

“My mom is dead.”

“I know.”

That came out too softly.

I looked toward the door.

“My friend Tasha.”

“I can call her.”

“No.”

I inhaled.

“I’ll do it.”

That distinction mattered.

I was tired of things being done around me.

I called Tasha.

She arrived thirty minutes later wearing pajama pants and one shoe tied incorrectly.

When she saw me, she cried.

Then immediately apologized for crying.

I laughed through mine.

“Apparently everyone is worried about reacting wrong around me.”

She hugged me only after asking.

Good.

Later that morning, she offered to take me to a salon.

I almost said yes.

Then stopped.

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to fix it yet.”

The word fix bothered me.

I had not done anything wrong.

My hair was evidence.

But more than that, it was mine.

Tyler had already decided what happened to it once.

Nobody else was deciding today.

For three days, I wore it exactly as they left it.

Not publicly for sympathy.

At home.

I needed time before another set of hands came near my head.

When I finally went to a stylist, I chose a short cut.

Very short.

The stylist asked:

“Do you want me to try to hide the shaved side?”

I stared at myself.

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Make it intentional.”

She did.

When I walked outside, Rook was waiting by his motorcycle.

He stood when he saw me.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

I braced for pity.

Instead:

“Looks good.”

I smiled.

“Just good?”

“Your mother would’ve said you look dangerous.”

That hurt.

May you like

And healed something at the same time.

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