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She sighs, and I know the image of Enzo won’t soon leave her head.
“Leaning over the tub. That way I can wash your hair and get a feel for your hair’s texture,” Claire says.
I turn the water on the tub and then kneel before it.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I force my body still as I prepare for Claire to touch me. I close my eyes as I tilt my head forward over the tub, my elbows resting on the tub’s edge. My heart races, and my breathing speeds so fast I’m afraid I could have a stroke.
Tears threaten.
Panic rises.
Anxiety overtakes.
I jerk.
And then I feel the touch.
My eyes fly at the warmth. It’s too warm to be Claire’s hands touching my shoulder. Too warm to be anyone’s but Enzo’s.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he kneels next to me.
“Washing your hair, and then cutting it,” he says.
My eyes search, but I don’t see her. “Where is Claire?”
“She’s gone.”
“Why?”
“Because you had a panic attack. And I won’t let you suffer anymore.”
I crinkle my nose. I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember if she touched me or not. I don’t remember hearing them talk, but they must have if Claire’s gone.
“She laid but a single finger on you before you panicked. You completely locked yourself away into a dark place in your mind. So I sent her away. When I touched you, you came to,” Enzo explains.
I frown. I really need a haircut, and I’m frustrated that I can’t tolerate anyone touching me for the few minutes it would take to get the job done.
“If she left her scissors, I’ll try cutting my hair.”
“No, I will.”
“Do you know how to cut hair?”
“She gave me a few lessons before she left.”
“The water is warm,” he says as he tests the water.
He removes the half-buttoned down shirt and then kneels once again next to me. He waits patiently for me to lean forward. And when I do he gently uses a cup to pour water over my hair.
I close my eyes to keep the water from splashing into my eyes.
“Shampoo,” he says, warning me before his hands run through my hair.
