AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In the three days I had been home, I bought out half the boys’ section at the department store from shoes to jeans. Did you know men's and women’s shoe sizes are completely different? I guess being an educated woman I should have known that, but I didn’t.
The moment I walked through the door, my beautician, Donna, rushed me with open arms. “Oh, my little Share Bear.” She squealed. That woman’s Texas drawl always made my day. “My goodness, you beautiful girl. How long has it been? Your hair is twice the length it was last time I saw you.”
“It’s been over four years. I just got back from Seattle, where I got my law degree.” I didn’t want to tell her about Daddy. It wasn’t the right time, though I know she’s going to ask how he is. I think this woman has always had a crush on my daddy.
“Oh, look at you. Little Share Bear is a big lawyer now.”
Embarrassed, I shook my head and sat down in the chair, letting her talk about her and her new boyfriend, kids, etc. “How’s your big, handsome daddy doing?”
“Oh, he's—um, in Anchorage, doing some, um—work up there.” I clenched my fists and bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to cry. “It’s hard living on my own, but I’ve been on my own for the last four years, so I got this.”
Donna patted my shoulder before wrapping the surrounding cape, pulling my hair free. “Just a little trim today?”
“No,” I smirked at her shocked expression in the mirror’s reflection. “I need this.” I showed her the picture of a short haircut, though still feminine.
“Are you sure you want this much hair cut off?” Donna looked like she was on the verge of tears. “This is about a foot of hair.”
I’m not sure if that was sarcasm, but I had a lot of hair. “Donate it to locks of love. Just please do this cut for me and I want to go dark brown, as dark as my eyebrows.”
“Well, darlin’, that is your natural color and your brows are pretty bushy. Did you want them waxed today?”
I vigorously shook my head. This was too perfect. I needed the bushy brows; I needed to be convincing to the Nanuq Shila club that I was a new prospect named Johnny Wayne.
Donna pulled my hair into a ponytail and hesitantly fiddled with the pair of scissors. “You better speak now,” she sniffled, holding her fingers up to her mouth to keep from bawling. “Oh, your daddy is going to be unhappy.”
“Should I have another beautician cut my hair, then? The way you’re carrying on, you’ll end up doing a hack job.” I didn’t mean to be so curt with her, but Donna’s behavior was unprofessional and I was spending a lot of money to make this drastic change.
“No—no. I’ll be fine.” I wasn’t convinced she’d be fine when she let out squeaky whimpers with each snip to just the ponytail.
***
Since I was in high school, I always colored my hair, always the same shade of flaxen blonde, and never spent over ten bucks on a box of hair dye. Not to mention, at home, it would take me thirty minutes, maybe an hour to get every strand covered, rinsing, the whole deal. Yet, four hours later, I glanced in the mirror, wide-eyed and my butt glued to the chair, regretting the mistake I just made. This wasn’t me. It looked nothing like me; which I guess was a good thing since I didn’t want to look like me presently. Donna was crying enough for both of us, since I was all cried out over my father’s situation.
“You hate it, don’t you?” She asked before she started wailing. I looked around the beauty shop and everyone was staring at her in hysterics.
“Donna, no, it’s great. It will take some getting used to.”
“You look like a boy,” she cried out, causing me to burst out laughing. “What, Share Bear?”
“Nothing—nothing. It’s perfect.” I jumped up from the chair after she removed the cape, so I could pay for the $200 haircut with a $50 tip. It was steep, but she worked her ass off to give me what I wanted, and seeing that fifty-dollar bill in her hand made her day. Give a woman money, they stop crying. It doesn’t work for me, but for some women.
I was satisfied that I could pretend to be Johnny and not one person would notice, well, except the only one who knew me better than myself, Mushu.
TEN
KENNEDY
It was Sunday evening, and we always had some church goers at our house for dinner. It was nice to take a reprieve when someone else offered; but we had a vast home and plenty of property to hold a large dinner party, so long as it was weather permitted.
As I sat in church, listening to the minister tell a sermon of forgiveness, sour bile built up at the back of my throat as guilt shadowed me. It was hypocritical of me to be in the house of the Lord, knowing what I did was a sin. Not only a sin, but it was also shameful, and shooting Tyler in the back was gutless. Even though none of the members judged me outright, they were acting differently toward me. I shamed myself; I shamed them. Being portrayed as the villain was expected and deservedly so. It got to a point it never should have, especially since we were close friends since we were stationed together in central California twenty some odd years ago.
After I got out of the service, I ran to the truck while my old lady and kids did their normal mingling of the patrons and minister. I covered my face, letting out the tears I’d been holding in since the afternoon I shot Tyler. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead. In my defense, I drank too much that day from other stresses in my life and took my anger out on him; it doesn't excuse what I did. And the thought of leaving his kid an orphan was something I couldn’t live with.
My wife, Marlene, was the first one in the truck. “Kenny?” Her voice was gentle. I was always a sucker for her southern drawl. It’s what attracted her to me, and it was something that I never grew tired of. This woman was exceptionally beautiful and still able to keep her tiny figure after popping out two kids. I loved Marlene more than life itself, but I feared if she knew the truth, she’d divorce my ass in a hot minute.
She said nothing else before she pulled me into her arms, peppering the side of my head with kisses. “Do you want to talk about it before the kids pile into the truck?”
I sat up, leaning over her to grab some napkins out of the glove compartment. “I can’t let them see how weak their father is.”
