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Chapter Four
Never make drastic hair decisions after ten o’clock at night, two beers in. If there was a lesson to be learned, that would be an important one.
I’d taken Tristan to the drug store after he’d awakened from his nap and come home with a box of color, one boasting a beautiful woman with luminous, light reddish-brown locks. I’d hoped to change my hair closer to my natural color—although who could honestly remember what it had been twelve years ago before I’d gone completely blond.
But instead my hair turned an unfortunate shade of pink. I couldn’t blame Ms. What’s-Her-Face, the name of the brand. The truth was I’d lost track of time while making a cheesecake and also should’ve done the test patch as the directions suggested. And now the bitch on the box was mocking me with her perfect locks, as if to say, “Don’t ask if your life can suck more. It can, indeed.”
Ugh. I’d only wanted to get rid of the blond hair my ex had loved on me since high school. Evidently, he had a thing for blondes considering his little girlfriend was platinum. Besides, nothing said reinvention quite like changing your hair color in the middle of the night, making it the exact opposite of what your ex would have wanted. I should’ve known better, though, than to do it on an emotional whim. A salon would’ve done the job right.
Deciding there was absolutely nothing to be done unless New Haven had a hair coloring delivery service, I went to bed with a wet head and hoped it would look better in the morning.
It didn’t.
Matter of fact, in the harsh bathroom light, my hair, now dry, appeared even worse. I could see a line of what could be assumed was the correct color on my roots, but this faded into a horrible pinkish/brown hue when it reached the previously bleached portion of my tresses.
Any minute I had a toddler waking up which meant my options were limited regarding going anywhere to try to get the problem fixed. At least I had an Oreo cookie cheesecake to console me until I could do something about my hair. Perhaps later today I could take Tristan to the drugstore to get another box and go another round during his nap. For now, I shoved my offensive locks into a Charlotte Hounds cap and went about getting my adorable toddler out of bed.
While he was watching cartoons, I opened up the first math book I’d held in over eleven years. I was excited to get started on my classes, however thirty minutes later, I was ready to cry. I’d never been at the top of my class and if I’d imagined that the years had improved my math skills, the first assignment was proving me wrong. After shutting the book in frustration, I took out my English book. At least this subject seemed less intimidating.
Later that day while we were sitting down for lunch, a knock on the door got me excited it could be Mark. Then I remembered the state of my hair. Thankfully, it turned out to be a smiling Haylee at the door. Along with Abby in her baby seat, she was balancing two Starbucks in a drink tray. It was impressive.
“I come bearing coffee. Well, tea for me, but Sasha tipped me off that you’re a caramel latte kind of girl.”
I laughed. “I am. Thank you. Come in if you have time.”
“I do. I just got back from New York. Had dinner with Will last night. I hate that he’s moving back to Australia. Plus, I think he’s had something going on with Catherine, which means he’ll be leaving her behind, too.”
“Sorry to hear he’s leaving, and wow. How’s Catherine taking it?” She was a good friend of both Sasha and Haylee. I’d met her last weekend during our spa morning. Considering how sweet she’d been in giving me advice and wisdom about life post-divorce, I instantly felt sad for her about Will.
“Josh said she’s pretty torn up. But she sent an email about throwing a Halloween party. That’ll be her birthday, too. In it, she wanted to make sure I extended the invitation to you. She really hopes you can come.”
“To New York City?” I’d never been.
“Yep. We can trick-or-treat in the morning. There’s a trunk-or-treat thing for the little ones, where cars gather in a parking lot. That way, we can catch the train in time for the party.”
I knew this group of friends all did a lot of events, but the logistics sounded overwhelming to me. “Um, I think my mom is coming up that weekend.”
“Perfect. She could babysit. You can either go back that same night or stay in a hotel. Or she could come with Tristan if you prefer. If she wants to attend the party, then we have a babysitter in the city we’ve used a couple of times who is terrific.”
“Um, I’ll think about it.” Traveling to New York sounded like a lot. “Before I can go out in public, I’ve gotta schedule a rematch with Ms. What’s-Her-Name to fix my hair.”
“You colored your hair?”
“Attempted a change. Let’s just say it doesn’t look like the box.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Let me see.”
I lifted the hat from my hair and watched her eyes widen along with her mouth, which formed an O. “Um, it’s not that bad.”
I giggled. “Liar.”
She smiled in return. “Okay, it’s not great. What happened?”
“I lost track of time. And I think I needed to leave it longer on the blond parts than the roots, but it’s kind of a moot point now.”
“You’re in luck. I have a classmate whose mom does hair out of her house. She’s cut mine and does highlights for a couple of the girls I know, if you’re interested in having her correct it.”
That sounded better and cheaper than a salon, which would probably charge a fortune. Plus, there were no guarantees another box off the shelf would fix the problem. In fact, I could make it worse. “Definitely. I think having someone who knows what they’re doing might be smarter than using another drugstore box.”
