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As for me, I know what I can do and the risks I’ll never take, and yes, I see what’s right in front of me. I don’t know if it’s wisdom, but I’ve seen a lot of good people fuck things up by not using their heads, thinking before speaking, making bad decisions.
I don’t need therapy.
I’ll figure my shit out like I always do—on my own.
3
Mindy
Mrs. Irene’s long white hair is thick and straight, and I carefully divide it into thirds. “Hallee from the Cuttin’ Corral is doing free shampoo and sets in the rec room. Not that you need it…”
She runs her fingers across the raised dots of a braille tablet on her lap. “Did you know researchers at Harvard are working on a course of antibodies that can reverse the damage of glaucoma and possibly restore sight to the blind?” Her voice is high and soft, but confident. “This young man from Australia is pioneering the study. He gives you a round of antibodies that specifically targets the eye.”
My hands move through her hair, weaving it into one fat braid down her back. “I wonder how soon he can get FDA approval for it.”
“I won
der if he’d be interested in an old blind lady to use as a guinea pig.” She turns the page.
“A beautiful old blind lady.” She tsks me, patting my arm as I tie off her plait. “Speaking of, watch out. Old Mr. Hebert is sneaking into rooms again.”
“Jimmy Hebert? How does he look now?”
Pressing my lips together, I think about the squat little man. “He’s a little paunchy. He still has hair, but it’s pretty thin.”
“Good looking?”
“He’s very earnest.”
She laughs. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” Pulling the band off my wrist, I use it to tie off the end of her hair. “George Costanza says a good-looking blind woman doesn’t know you’re not good enough for her. I won’t let that happen to you.”
“Mindy Ray!” She laughs even more, and Miss Jessica’s playful voice enters the room behind us.
“But would you date the deaf?”
“Well, look at you!” I step over to lightly touch her stiff dome of gray hair. “Nice style.”
“Oh, I wish I could see.” Mrs. Irene lifts her chin in the direction of our voices.
“Hallee is really good.”
“Tell me about it. I love my Brazilian blowout!”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Irene places her hand on her chest. “I don’t know how you girls do all those waxes. Back in my day, women had hair down there.”
“Good night, Irene!” Miss Jessica cries. “She’s talking about her head hair.”
I guide Mrs. Irene’s hand to the side of my head. “Feel. It’s like a straightening treatment, but it’s not chemical… It’s keratin.”
“Well, I’ll be…” Her voice is full of awe. “But your curls are gone! I miss everything now.”
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t think to tell you.” Harristown is so small, these old ladies have known me all my life.
“I just wish I didn’t feel like livestock.” Miss Jessica pats the side of her hair with an offended huff. “Who names a salon the Cuttin’ Corral? It’s like expecting me to buy clothes from a place called the Dress Barn. I am not a cow.”
“I think they’re riffing off Napoleon Dynamite.” I pick up the braille book that slid off Mrs. Irene’s lap.
