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As soon as Maria’s familiar hands are soaping up my scalp, the tears start to fall. I can’t control them, and she doesn’t say a word as she continues to massage my scalp for way longer than is necessary.
When my tears start to slow, I notice her ringing the excess water from my hair and wrapping it up in a towel. I let her guide me back to her chair. As soon as my butt hits the faux leather, I take a deep breath and look up to catch her eyes in the mirror.
“Do you think I’m like my mother?”
Maria’s head snaps back as if I slapped her. “What the hell?”
“Do you think I’m like her?”
“What in the hell would make you think you areanythinglike her?”
I clear my throat as Maria snaps out of her momentary shock, gliding the comb through my wet hair. “I just left my therapy appointment and she made me think about something.”
“She made you think you’re like your mother? If that’s the case, you need a new therapist. Leave me her name, and I will gladly go cut a bitch.”
“No!” I shake my head, thankful that Maria doesn’t have her scissors in her hand yet. “I actually really, really like my therapist. She just made me realize a few things and I think I need your help to work through them.”
“If you say so, I won’t cut her.”
“She made me realize that the reason I might be holding back from a relationship with Trigger is because I’m afraid of becoming my parents.”
I watch as Maria works through the thought in her head, then nods. “I can see that.”
“It just made me think that she’s right. It’s no shock that my mother hated me–”
Maria interrupts, “Your mother didn’t hate you.”
“You don’t need to make excuses for her. I know she hated me.”
“She didn’t hate you. She just wasn’t meant to be a mother.”
“That sounds like an easy way out of saying she didn’t want me.”
Maria bops me on the head with her comb. “Ouch!”
“Stop it. I’m putting my foot down. I know it’s not easy, but all thoughts of your mother need to leave the table right now. She was never meant to be a mother and the day she left I think we all breathed a little easier. She made Triton miserable every damn day of his life. If it wasn’t for you, I would have regretted the day I ever brought her to that party.”
I can tell by the look on her face that she isn’t done as she reaches over to the counter to get her scissors. “You have never been anything like her and you never will be. You are going to be such an amazing mother, Pebbles. What you and Trigger have, I know you two liked to pretend that no one knew what was going on, but, honey, we all knew. You two are nothing like your parents. You want to talk about people hating each other? Your parents hated each other before they even found out Robin was pregnant. But your dad was a wonderful man, and he stuck by her even when he hated her.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Trigger is a good man, too.”
Maria shakes her head incredulously. “Trigger and your dad are nothing alike either, Pebbles.”
“What if, one day, he thinks I trapped him?”
Maria wiggles her fingers next to my head, dropping the cut hair off her hands to the floor. “What if he doesn’t? He’s trying, honey.”
“I know he is, but I’m just afraid he’s trying for the wrong reasons.”
“You’re scared he’s only trying because of the babies and not because he truly loves you?”
I make sure she doesn't have the scissors near my head before I nod.
“I think you need to give him the benefit of the doubt and see what he has to offer. If you both decide mutually that it would be better for everyone to remain just friends, then so be it. But are you going to be able to look both of your kids in the eye and tell them that you didn’t even try to make it work between you and their dad? You didn’t even give them achanceat a family?”
Maria’s words, just like Sohpia’s, render me speechless. I let her finish my trim before blowing it dry and styling it. I’m thankful for the comforting roar of the blow dryer. Even if I wanted to talk, I wouldn’t be able to due to the noise.
I’m mentally exhausted from all the talking today, so when Maria is done with my hair, she leads me over to a nail station and one of the younger girls gets to work on my atrociously bitten-to-shit nails. They’re another thing I haven’t bothered with since the incident. Instead of getting my long, stiletto sculpted nails, I decided on a short, manicure in a pale pink color.
