...Two Bits

The hairbrush fell from her right hand, clanging onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor before skittering just under the corner of the cabinet. Her eyes were trained on the handful of hair she had just pulled from its bristles. Beverley rubbed the strands slowly between her thumb and fingers for a long moment before briskly circling her palms together. Tossing the red hairball half-heartedly at the garbage can, she moved stuporously into the bedroom. Settling heavily onto the edge of the bed, she pulled her strong fingers through the thinning curls framing her face. It was when she finally looked up that she noticed the mirror on her dressing table directly opposite. Visibly flinching, she rolled back onto the bed, curling into a ball and casting about the night table until she found her cellphone.

Flipping it open, her thumb hovered over the numbers two and three on the keypad, flitting back and forth without pressing either. She clicked the phone shut and pressed it to her forehead as she closed her eyes. After a few deep breaths, she opened it and firmly pressed a speed dial number. Her free hand twirled her hair as she waited.

-----

The music was pulsing so loudly through the club that even the walls of the back hallway were shaking, but it was not enough to mask the gentle buzz of the phone in Allison’s hip pocket. She disentangled her bored lips from the young man pressing against her. Angling her head slightly, his questing mouth soon found its way to her neck and she raked the nails of her right hand gently up and down his back. Rolling her eyes at his clumsy suckling, she dug her phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. She twisted her wrist to glance at her watch, and her brow furrowed as she pressed the button to ignore the call. She awkwardly maneuvered with her left thumb, texting as swiftly as she could, “Two minutes. Call you back.”

After shoving the phone back into her pocket, she snaked her hands into his dark hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. Drawing his lower lip out with her teeth, she broke the kiss. His arrogant smirk faded when she recoiled from his attempt to resume their activities. “Look, Ryan, I have to go.”

His hands wandered up the sides of her shirt, pulling her closer to him. “The name’s Rick. You’re not going anywhere. I’m not quite done with you, yet.”

Her knee connected solidly with his groin. “Yeah, you kind of are.”

As he doubled over, she bent down to retrieve her drink from the ground. Taking a long sip, her eyes bored into him as he gradually straightened. He ran his hand through his hair, picked up his beer and turned to leave. “Fucking cock tease.” She could see him readjusting himself gingerly as he walked down the long hallway, past the restrooms and back into the club.

The bright light of the women’s restroom was blinding after the dark of the hallway, and she blinked as she stepped up to the counter. She stared at the disheveled mess in front of her. Her long dark curls were haphazardly tangled from her recent encounter, her lipstick smudged and a hickey was blossoming at the base of her throat.

“Fan-fucking-tastic. God, who does that? Prick.”

She splashed some water on her face, quickly patting it dry with a paper towel. She took another long swallow of her watered down drink and pulled out her phone, using one slim pinky to erase the smudges of red around her lips as she waited for Beverley to answer.

----

She heard the knocking but wasn’t compelled to move off the bed. Soon the locks were tumbling, and Allison’s voice was bouncing off the stillness of the small hour.

“Bev?”

“Up here.”

Allison quickly relocked the front door, slipped off her heels and trudged up the stairs to the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and rested her hand on Beverley’s back. At the touch, she turned her tear-stained face and the sobbing started anew. Allison crawled onto the bed behind her, wrapping her arms around the thinning body of her best friend.

“Shhh.” It became a mantra, rocking her slowly with each gentle exhortation. “You have to stop.” She affected a twangy accent, “No one cries alone in my presence.”

It was enough to make Beverley giggle, the kind of nervous twitter that can only be born of tears. “Thank you, Truvy.”

Allison relaxed a bit, releasing the frail body from the cocoon of her arms. She propped her head up on her fist. “Feel like talking?”

Beverley rolled onto her stomach, the mattress swallowing her words. Allison touched her shoulder, “I didn’t catch that. Feel like telling me? Or did you ask me to come over to watch you talk to Mr. Serta?”

She turned and nestled her cheek into the mattress, staring at Allison’s silhouette in the darkened room before closing her eyes. “It started falling out… My hair… It started falling out.”

“Aw, Red.” Allison reached out and flipped the end of a tress in her fingers. “Never did like your hair much anyway.”

“I didn’t think it would bother me this much. I mean, it’s just hair.”

“Yep. Just hair.”

“It really threw me, seeing that big wad of it in my hairbrush. I didn’t think…Al?”

“Yeah?”

“It feels real now. I mean, the fatigue and the nausea, that was different, mind over matter, I can control it, you know? This? This I can’t stop. This is going to happen. It is happening. I need to control it.”

“Okay. So, it’s time, then?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t want to wait until Neil’s back from… Where is he?”

“Atlanta. And no, I don’t want to wait.”

“Where do you want to do it?”

“Somewhere where there’s no mirror.”

“I’ll grab the clippers, you grab a towel, meet you downstairs.”

Beverley had one hand on the counter, leaning down to pull a towel from the cabinet when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She stood slowly, flipping the towel over her shoulder and tugging at an errant ringlet that fell across her eyes. Reaching into a drawer, she pulled out a pair of shears, snipping the lock of hair cleanly. Straightening her shoulders, she strode to her bedside table and removed her journal, neatly tucking the memento between its pages.

Allison had the clippers set up on the kitchen island and had poured them both a glass of wine. Her back was to Beverley when she walked in. At the sound of the door swinging open, she quickly wiped her eyes and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

“Good God, Al. What is that on your neck?” She hopped up onto a bar stool.

“What do you think it is?” She handed Beverley her glass of wine.

“Are you dating high school students now?”

“Shut up. I was in the Village. He was… exuberant. Boring, but exuberant” She flung the towel around Beverley’s shoulders and fastened it with a hair clip.

“And this one’s name?”

“Umm. Started with an R? Does it matter? You ready for this?”

Beverley gulped and nodded as Allison started inexpertly trimming her hair short. The whispering song of the scissors punctuated their conversation.

“Al?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, why?”

“The men, the clubs, you haven’t done that in a long time.”

Allison paused and leaned her lips close to Beverley’s ear. “I flirt, it’s what I do.”

She sighed, “Trust me, I know.” Her voice hardened a bit as she looked around the kitchen. “I’ve seen it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She paused mid-snip, scissors poised in the air.

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“You haven’t done the random man thing since med school.”

“I guess you’re right, I haven’t.”

“Why now?”

“No particular reason. Here goes.” She flipped the switch on the electric clippers and the buzz startled them both. She lifted the clippers to begin when Beverley grabbed her wrist.

“I want to do the first one.”

“Okay.” She handed her the clippers and stood back, tears welling in her eyes as she watched Beverley’s calm, confident surgeon’s hands begin to shake.

“I can’t do it.” Beverley turned off the clippers, staring at the dead machine in her hands.

Allison wrapped her hands around Beverley’s. “Let me help you.” Bringing the machine back to life, Allison guided Beverley’s hand to create a narrow swath of shaved skin down the center of her skull.

Beverley slowly opened one of her tightly closed eyes, quirking her eyebrow up as she stared at Allison. “How bad is it?”
“You’re not going to believe this.”

“What?”

“There is a pirate map tattooed on your skull.”

“Shut up.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“With the bad jokes or the head shaving?”

“Either, both, whichever.” She clung tightly to Allison’s free hand as she finished.

“All done, my little billiard ball.” Allison watched as Beverley reached up, her hand hovering over her head but not quite touching. “Want to go take a look? I’ll clean up.”

“Come with me? I don’t want to look by myself.”

“Of course.”

She froze as they approached the bathroom door. “Can you lead me in and just stand there with me? I’m not ready yet. I’ll open my eyes when I’m ready.”

“Anything you say, Bev. Come on.”

Allison positioned her in front of the mirror, placed her own hands lightly on her upper arms and waited. Beverley’s face had become even more strikingly beautiful after the distraction of her brilliantly fiery hair was gone. Her head was just the right amount of bumpy, any smoother and it would look fake. Her eyes were screwed shut, and Allison could feel the tension playing out in the muscles beneath her fingers. She squeezed gently and waited.

Eventually, Beverley opened her eyes. One hand went to her head, the other to cover Allison’s. Tears were threatening to spill when Allison leaned forward to whisper, “Hello, gorgeous.”


Beverley started laughing and turned into Allison’s hug. The two stood there in their embrace, and it was difficult to tell who was leaning on whom. The much needed dose of laughter dissolved into chuckling, giggling, and finally yawning. Allison took Beverley by the hand and led her out of the guest bathroom and up the stairs, gently tugging to pull her forward. She deftly folded down the sheets and deposited her under the covers before scrambling to the master bath.

Squeezing a small amount of lotion into her hand, she called out to Beverley, "Sit up for a second, hon." She warmed the liquid in her hands before massaging it into Bev's scalp. "It won't be as itchy in the morning." She mumbled her thanks as she fell back down to her pillow. Allison tucked the duvet around her and stood at the end of the bed with her arms crossed, one hand pressed to her lips. She waited until Beverley's breathing settled into a smooth pattern before stooping to kiss her forehead. After slowly closing the door with a gentle click, she suddenly began moving with renewed vigor, cleaning the mess in the kitchen with lightning speed. She locked the front door behind her and hailed a taxi. She sank into the seat and stared out the window to the darkened brownstone, chewing on her thumb as the cab started to move.

It wasn’t until then that Allison let the sobs wrack her tired body.