The Haircut

THE HAIRCUT


Mama snatched and yanked until my head hurt and she had brought tears to my eyes; it was the same every time she brushed my hair. Biting back the cries of pain, I knew she would only get angry and use the brush as a punishment as she whacked me on the head with it. So, I kept quiet and endured. My hair was so long that it hit against the backs of my knees as I walked. It was golden blonde and had twisting curls at the tip although the length of it was straight as an arrow. My Daddy would sit with me on his lap for what felt like hours to me, as he stroked my hair gently with his strong hands.


I would sit on the kitchen chair holding myself as still as possible until the whole ordeal would be over. It was then that the inevitable would happen; a knot, a tangle, one that she could not easily get out and I could feel myself tensing up. As she shook my shoulder she would whisper into my ear, “Sit still before I snatch you bald!” I could not have moved if she had pushed me out of the chair. I would sit and hold my breath until she picked and pulled and finally the stubborn tangle of hair would break loose and with a shudder I could be grateful that she had not had to call my Daddy in to help.


Mama hated getting Daddy to help with my hair. Whenever he would brush it Daddy was gentle and easy and I knew that she watched. And, I knew exactly what how she felt while he was brushing. She would smile that small tight smile of hers behind his back that would serve to remind me, he would not always be there to protect me. I was scared of that smile, and not just for myself either. I was scared for Daddy too. I do not ever remember seeing him catch her with that smile on her face, but I always knew that if he did, it would have scared him.


Mama was always making threats, saying, “I have a good mind to take you and have all that hair that you and your Daddy love so much cut right up to your ears.” I never thought too much about those words because after all, she would never do anything to hurt my Daddy, she loved him and he wanted his girls to have long hair. I could not wait until the day that I was old enough to wash and brush my own hair, without Mama’s help. Then, maybe just maybe, she would leave me alone and be happy that my hair was long and pretty.


They were fighting again. I would put my pillow over my head and my fingers in my ears to blot them out but I could still hear them. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to see God in my imagination, because surely if I could see him in my mind then he would answer my prayer and stop their fighting. I don’t believe he heard me this night because the yelling went on forever. I dreamed that night. Daddy had me by the hand and we were walking and walking and then suddenly we lifted right off the ground and were flying. I was never afraid of this dream at first, and then, my Daddy would change into my Mama and she would let me go and I would fall as she laughed and laughed at me. I woke up in the dark, shaking and trembling with fear, listening to hear them. I would listen until it would grow quiet and I knew that they had stopped fighting.


The morning was long in coming but with its arrival Mama came too, shaking my shoulders saying, “Get up! We have errands to run today.” Quickly as I could I dressed and hurried to the kitchen for my breakfast. I asked, “Where’s Daddy? Isn’t he going to go to town with us?” I received no response and I knew better than to ask again. We left, walking downtown because Mama did not drive. She would walk so much faster than me, and if she were holding my hand, like she was today, I would be pulled along until I thought my arm might just pop right off. I did not know where were going, of course I never did any time I went with Mama. Sometimes we would go to the grocery buy a few things and head back home, but today we did not go to the grocery store, we went instead to the beauty salon.


I looked around inside the salon as we entered because I had never been inside one before. I noticed the strange smell of ammonia and chemicals and crinkled my nose up against them. I was curious and a little nervous but before I had time to become aware of these new surroundings I was lifted into a chair and I heard Mama speak to the beautician. “I want it cut off, all of it. As short as you can.”


The nice lady was smoothing my hair and smiling in the mirror at me. “Are you sure that you do not just want me to trim it a little? it is so pretty and it would be a shame to cut it all.” I smiled back at her in the mirror and then I saw the look on Mama’s face. I knew there would be no turning back for her now.

“All of it!” she said again.

I hid in the darkness of my bedroom, my eyes swollen and red from the tears I had shed over the loss of my hair and the slap that I had received when I had bluntly told Mama, “I hate my hair!” I heard Daddy come home and I was so scared that he would hate it and his little girl too. Mama called me and I knew that I had to go and face him.

I will never forget the things they said that night. I had this strange need to hear and stood behind the locked door to listen. Mama said, “I never promised you anything and you both will just have to get used to her hair as it is now. You never had to deal with all that tangled mess.”


There was a moment of silence and then, “I don’t know if I will ever forgive you for this.” I crept back to my room, to my dreams.


I sat on the floor reading, listening to my little sister laugh. She was sitting on our Daddy’s lap while he ran his strong hands up and down the lengths of her long hair. Mama stood in the doorway smiling that little smile of hers. I was glad my hair was gone.