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Seeing the excitement on my daughter’s face makes me smile even as it sends a stab of guilt through me. She’s clearly been missing out on having a woman around. Weekly visits with my mom aren’t quite cutting it. My mom means well, but I can’t remember her ever having long hair. I don’t know if she knows the first thing about how to style Ella’s curls. And all my google searches haven’t helped me in the least.
Harlow glances toward the mirror and her eyes go to my reflection. She looks a little nervous, but she shoots me a smile. “What do you think, Dad?”
I walk further into the room. “Ella, you look beautiful,” I say.
Ella bounces in her seat, a big smile on her face. “Harlow made me pretty!”
“I did not!” Harlow says with a smile. “You were already pretty. I just styled your hair. That’s all.”
Ella can’t seem to take her eyes off her own reflection in the mirror. I can’t blame her. It’s the best her hair has looked in a long time.
“Thank you,” I say softly, holding Harlow’s gaze in the mirror.
She goes still, her blue eyes locked on mine. Finally, she nods. “It’s no trouble.”
“Ella, what do you say to Miss Harlow?” I say, finally dragging my eyes away from the woman in the mirror.
Ella turns back to look at Harlow, the smile still firmly planted on her face. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she shouts.
Harlow laughs, shaking her head. “You are so welcome, Ella. You come back any time and I’ll fix your hair however you like.”
Ella’s eyes go wide. “Really?”
Harlow nods.
“Can I get purple?”
Harlow’s mouth drops open and she looks at me. “Um. That’s up to your dad, sweetie.”
Ella turns to me. “Daddy? Can I?”
“We’ll discuss it,” I say. “Maybe when you’re a bit older.”
“That’s what you say to everything,” Ella whines.
I glance at Harlow who’s wearing a pleading expression.Sorry, she mouths silently.
I smile to let her know I’m not upset with her.
“Ella, your hair color is so pretty the way it is,” Harlow says.
“It’s brown,” Ella mutters as if she’s talking about something on the bottom of her shoe.
“It’s such a pretty brown,” Harlow says, touching Ella’s hair. “See this? This is a natural highlight. It’s got gold and auburn. No hair is ever just one color.”
“It’s not purple, though,” Ella says with a sigh.
Harlow laughs. “No, but then no one is born with purple hair. Do you know how old I was before I colored my hair for the first time?”
Ella shakes her head.
“I was eighteen years old,” Harlow says. “I was already in college. And you know what? I didn’t even like the way it turned out.”
“Really?” Ella asks. “What happened?”
Harlow sighs. “It turned orange. A really ugly orange color that I couldn’t fix for two weeks.”
Ella’s eyes go wide, and she looks at Harlow as if trying to picture her with orange hair. I admit, I’m trying to do the same.
