AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh. Oh!” Once the vision was in my mind I couldn’t let go of the, well, you know hair hanging out down below. My virginal forest had no desire to be hacked and deforested for any reason. I was a preserver of animal rights and enjoyed my own version of Greenpeace by using my phone’s Forest app to plant a few trees. It helped me focus while I was creating new dessert recipes. There’d be absolutely no shaving, waxing, dehairing of the furry kitty in my pants.
Nope.
No thanks.
My trimming had been neglected after this last breakup. I was determined to keep every tree and lonely branch below because I was never dating again. Not even my mother setting me up on a kosher date designed to bring political clout to my uber conservative family would inspire that kind of grooming.
I was done being everyone’s puppet and favorite baker when it suited them.
I was safe until the next family gathering which wouldn’t occur until Christmas or a wedding, whichever happened first. I’d probably get conned into making the desserts anyway and stuck in the kitchen.
“Gemma, let’s focus on the top please. Save the curtains for another day.” Louisa, the owner gave her assistant a look that clearly said leave me the hell alone and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Next time then?” Gemma bounced like a puppy waiting for a ball to be tossed in her direction and Louisa nodded. I groaned dismayed that somehow I agreed to something I didn’t even realize. I just wanted to look normal and here was a hot wax-wielding psycho coming at me hard. Gemma smiled and lifted a stick of honey colored wax. “Why don’t we start with these bushy eyebrows, mmm?” I wasn’t into her backhanded compliments and tried holding my ground.
“I like them thick.” I covered my eyebrows worried she’d flip the chair back and do her worst.
“Oh honey, I bet you do.” She chuffed finally wheeling the cart of torture away. I also thought she slipped a double entendre in there somewhere, but I wasn’t asking her to clarify anything, especially not after the Loch Ness cousin comment.
The thumping in my chest made me nervous and I wondered if I made the right choice? That was my theme song these days, a dark instrumental mocking me at every turn, and I didn’t think this avenging wax-wielding angel was planning to have mercy on me.
My voice wavered, “What’s wrong with my eyebrows?”
In my post break-up haze I probably hadn’t been keeping up with my personal grooming and a good threader was sometimes hard to find when you worked long days inside a kitchen.
At least two sets of voices in the salon snickered and before my hair was colored with cool wet slops infused between chunks of what used to be my hair. The chair was tilted back forcing me to grab the arm rests for dear life. They should consider marketing this day spa as a roller coaster without the proper safety measures to tie me down securely.
Louisa put a hand on my shoulder looking me over in the mirror I eyeballed from the corner. “Let Gemma work her magic, we’re not aiming for twins here, just sisters.” I had no idea what she meant, but nonetheless I found myself acquiescing.
Gemma ripped out hairs from my face with hands much too delicate looking to be a logger with a chainsaw. She moved on from my eyebrows to wax my chin and upper lip with a vengeance. I swore she cackled once or twice at my wince. No way was I letting her near my hooch down below for a private gardening session. Satan could keep her tweezers holstered.
Three hours later I hobbled out of the Vodka and Wash, a little worse for wear. Tingles between my legs and numbing on my face followed a strict warning to not go swimming in a chlorinated pool for twenty-four hours swam laps in my head. Gemma got a hold of me in the waxing room while we waited on my color to set and let’s just say I hadn’t been that open since my last doctor visit.
However, she was good, I’d give her that.
My hair was now a gorgeous mix of dark browns and subtle shades of blonde and pink. The hair goddess, Louisa had snuck in strawberry blonde and caramel highlights giving my hair depth I never imagined. She was good and worth every penny I spent. She was definitely all about color and encouraged me to come in anytime for a hair crisis or otherwise.
After my breakup with the douche-canoe, I had been on the fast pass of the five stages of grief or relief depending on one’s perspective. I was nowhere near acceptance, but I went right from getting dumped to giving myself a bad dye job.
Louisa was a pretty distraction clouding my thoughts as I shuffled down the street toward my locked up shop. I hadn’t really looked at her until my hair had gone through the wash and she was trimming it and blowing it out. Her fingers worked magic lulling my anxious thoughts trailing through the long strands that no longer resembled a psychotic clown.
Her nails were short, but kept a neat gel manicure even my mother would en
vy. She pursed her lips deep in thought with every snip of her scissors and bit the bottom one when she applied the dryer for my blow out. She wore all black, a stylist staple and black Doc Martins that reminded me of high school. She was the girl my mother warned me about, but as an adult, I always had an eye for even if I didn’t openly date women.
Relaxing did not come easy to me. I should have kept my purse with the bottle of my anxiety meds with me, but it was hanging in the closet and I was all alone with my tornado of feelings. I took the opportunity to watch Louisa and her rhythmic movements artfully creating my new look. She was taller than I was and her body had curves plumping her in places anyone with a heartbeat could appreciate. She wore a black dress shirt tucked into a tulle skirt and a wide black belt. Her hair was blonde with a mix of caramels and light honey good enough to eat while her pouty lips sported blood red lipstick in a matte finish. Kohl liner and jet mascara highlighted her best feature, her big blue eyes that were framed by big black eyeglasses. She smiled back at me while she continued perfecting my hair. I even earned a wink from her.
Could it be? Was Louisa playing the same game I was? The same team? I pushed the thoughts down, far down and ignored how the possibility might make me feel. I ended a relationship with a man because he cheated on me and just because a woman I found attractive sparked things I hadn’t felt before I was not about to jump ship. My heart and mind continued warring with me and my family’s uptight expectations and morals. Part of the reason I left NYC and didn’t return to staunchly conservative Connecticut was because I wanted to buck the preconceived notions my relatives and friends at home had about sexuality.
Particularly mine.
Forget about me trying to figure out where I was on the elusive spectrum. Boys? Girls? I had no idea. I usually fell somewhere in between and after I fell for the person, I then wallowed in guilt because society spoon fed me so much bullshit. I couldn’t make sense of my heart. Sure, I marched in parades during college and even kissed my roommate once after several bottles of cheap wine, it didn’t mean I understood my feelings.
I had hoped moving to this town would help me figure things out. I used the inheritance my grandmother Gigi left me to purchase a defunct bakery, sight unseen. However, since the moment I signed the papers it was a disaster. I’m talking spilled cake batter flying up the wall mess.
Oh, and don’t forget the boyfriend of two years who dumped me for a girl who could barely string a sentence together that wasn’t written for her on a prompter which provoked this move to begin with...and my accidental revenge hair coloring gone wrong. I guess he saw her as a more suitable life partner while he worked on his aspiring chef career. You know, because his new girl’s father owned a slew of restaurants and he’d probably have his pick of working in one if he married her.
I hoped he choked on a canape after he said we just weren’t compatible. He said the feelings developed over time (try six weeks after meeting her) and he didn’t want to be forced into cheating (as if his dick falling into her was an accident) or whatever bullshit he told himself at night. I should have been more upset, but something in me told me that I wasn’t meant to be with him and I should have let that go a long time ago. My head was a mess and I took the first opportunity that got me out of New York. Luckily, it brought me closer to my college friend Taylor Jane Bryant.
