sure?”
Black, the color of mystery, wisdom, and the unknown. Black like the night, lungs of a smoker, and Kalam ata olives.
Does she know something I don’t? “Fire away,” I say, before I change my mind.
The dye stings my scalp, but I don’t tell Deena because I’m afraid she’ll stop and I’ll end up with a striped do. I close my eyes and imagine that I’m Mom. Bianca Bernard. Beautiful. Intelligent. Free.
If I knew how long it took to dye your hair black, I might have reconsidered. I feel like I’ve been here all night when Deena finally says I can have a seat next to the stack of magazines while we wait for the dye to set in. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and feel like an android, with my hair all clumped together in several different sections. Deena sets the timer for thirty minutes and says she’ll be back to check on me. I keep an eye on the clock. I’m afraid she’ll forget about me and by the time she remembers, all my hair will have fallen out. Bald is not a fashion option for me.
“How’s it going, Vampire Girl?” Liz plops down next to me.
“Could you at least come up with something more glamorous?”
“Sorry.” She gives me a long stare. “Licorice Chick?”
“I kind of like that.” I hope Graham is the licorice type of guy.
I glance at the time again. Ten minutes left. Deena still hasn’t come by to check on me. Maybe she got cold feet and fled the salon.
“You like?” Liz wiggles her fingers and toes.
“Yeah, the coral polish really brings out your tan.”
“Thanks.” She jumps up from her chair. “I have to call Harry, but I’ll be back.”
“Okay, fine, leave me here … ”
She flips her wrist. “You’ll be fine, Licorice Chick.”
The timer goes off and I call for Deena. She smells like vinegar salad dressing when she returns. I guess she’s got to take a dinner break sometime. She washes out the licorice before I even get a glimpse. Then I’m back in the chair where she claims she’s giving me a chic do. I can’t tell much because my hair’s wet, but it’s definitely dark.
When she’s done snipping, she says, “I’ll blow it out for you so you don’t have to leave with wet hair.”
“Thanks.” I could get used to this.
She pulls out a dryer. “Now if you want to stay with the black, you’re going to have to come back in three to four weeks so I can touch up the roots.”
I just nod. I’m not thinking about what I’ll look like in three to four weeks, I’m thinking about what Graham will say when he sees me. Will his eyes drop to the floor? Or will he declare his undying love for me? I wish.
Now Dad, he’s another story. Maybe I should’ve gone blond since it seems like that’s his type these days.
“We’re all finished.” Deena twirls my chair around and hands me a small mirror. “Take a look at the back. It’s very full when you blow it out.”
I squint because I’m not sure if I can take in the whole transformation at once.
“Very mysterious.” Deena smiles. “You like it?”
I purse my lips and tilt my head to the side. There’s definitely a strong contrast between my light skin and my rich black hair.
It takes me a long time to answer her, but finally I say yes. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Besides, I think I like it.
“Well?” I twirl in front of Liz once we get outside.
“Wow, your cheekbones really stick out with all those layers.”
My mouth drops. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Rock star cool,” she says. “I didn’t think I’d like it, but I do.”
“Thanks.” I’m still skeptical, though. “Rock star cool as in young and cool or aging rocker dude?”
Liz rolls her eyes. “Do you think I’m going to compare you to an old guy that slurs his words and eats bats?”
We both laugh.
–––––
Dad’s not back yet when I get home, so I scour through all the old photo albums searching for pictures of Mom. My favorite photo is Bianca and Jacques at a New
Black, the color of mystery, wisdom, and the unknown. Black like the night, lungs of a smoker, and Kalam ata olives.
Does she know something I don’t? “Fire away,” I say, before I change my mind.
The dye stings my scalp, but I don’t tell Deena because I’m afraid she’ll stop and I’ll end up with a striped do. I close my eyes and imagine that I’m Mom. Bianca Bernard. Beautiful. Intelligent. Free.
If I knew how long it took to dye your hair black, I might have reconsidered. I feel like I’ve been here all night when Deena finally says I can have a seat next to the stack of magazines while we wait for the dye to set in. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and feel like an android, with my hair all clumped together in several different sections. Deena sets the timer for thirty minutes and says she’ll be back to check on me. I keep an eye on the clock. I’m afraid she’ll forget about me and by the time she remembers, all my hair will have fallen out. Bald is not a fashion option for me.
“How’s it going, Vampire Girl?” Liz plops down next to me.
“Could you at least come up with something more glamorous?”
“Sorry.” She gives me a long stare. “Licorice Chick?”
“I kind of like that.” I hope Graham is the licorice type of guy.
I glance at the time again. Ten minutes left. Deena still hasn’t come by to check on me. Maybe she got cold feet and fled the salon.
“You like?” Liz wiggles her fingers and toes.
“Yeah, the coral polish really brings out your tan.”
“Thanks.” She jumps up from her chair. “I have to call Harry, but I’ll be back.”
“Okay, fine, leave me here … ”
She flips her wrist. “You’ll be fine, Licorice Chick.”
The timer goes off and I call for Deena. She smells like vinegar salad dressing when she returns. I guess she’s got to take a dinner break sometime. She washes out the licorice before I even get a glimpse. Then I’m back in the chair where she claims she’s giving me a chic do. I can’t tell much because my hair’s wet, but it’s definitely dark.
When she’s done snipping, she says, “I’ll blow it out for you so you don’t have to leave with wet hair.”
“Thanks.” I could get used to this.
She pulls out a dryer. “Now if you want to stay with the black, you’re going to have to come back in three to four weeks so I can touch up the roots.”
I just nod. I’m not thinking about what I’ll look like in three to four weeks, I’m thinking about what Graham will say when he sees me. Will his eyes drop to the floor? Or will he declare his undying love for me? I wish.
Now Dad, he’s another story. Maybe I should’ve gone blond since it seems like that’s his type these days.
“We’re all finished.” Deena twirls my chair around and hands me a small mirror. “Take a look at the back. It’s very full when you blow it out.”
I squint because I’m not sure if I can take in the whole transformation at once.
“Very mysterious.” Deena smiles. “You like it?”
I purse my lips and tilt my head to the side. There’s definitely a strong contrast between my light skin and my rich black hair.
It takes me a long time to answer her, but finally I say yes. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Besides, I think I like it.
“Well?” I twirl in front of Liz once we get outside.
“Wow, your cheekbones really stick out with all those layers.”
My mouth drops. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Rock star cool,” she says. “I didn’t think I’d like it, but I do.”
“Thanks.” I’m still skeptical, though. “Rock star cool as in young and cool or aging rocker dude?”
Liz rolls her eyes. “Do you think I’m going to compare you to an old guy that slurs his words and eats bats?”
We both laugh.
–––––
Dad’s not back yet when I get home, so I scour through all the old photo albums searching for pictures of Mom. My favorite photo is Bianca and Jacques at a New
Similar Books
