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Sal arrived with her daughters to keep Kevin occupied while she did haircuts. Annie went out to her room while Helen and Sal set up shop in the kitchen. Ashley came out with wet hair to get Annie for her turn.
“Have you ever been to a concert before?” Ashley asked as they walked back to the house. Annie shivered in the cool air. The sky was overcast with a gray pallor everywhere. She’d sat in front of a space heater, warming her toes while she waited her turn.
“I have,” Annie said.
“This is my first one,” Ashley admitted.
“Everyone has to start somewhere.”
“What was one you went to?”
“Let’s see. I think the last one I went to was New Kids On The Block,” Annie said.
“Oh, I don’t like them very much,” Ashley said. “I like girl musicians.”
“The nice thing about concerts is, even if they’re not good, it’s still fun to go with so many other people.”
She opened the kitchen door for Ashley, then walked in behind her.
Sal was waiting for her. “Hi, doll! How you doing?”
“I’m just fine.” Annie smiled. “How are you, ma’am?”
“Ma’am,” Sal said. “Ha!”
“She’s not from here,” Helen said with a wink.
“Have a seat, kiddo.”
Annie sat down, then unclasped the barrette holding the front of her hair back and curled it into her fist. “It’s kind of wavy.” There was a time when she’d spend the effort to blow it out or iron it flat, but now, between school and work, she didn’t have the energy.
“It’s beautiful! Don’t worry. I’ve cut lots of curly hair.” Sal buried her hands in Annie’s locks, peering at her scalp. “Helen, look. Strawberry roots.”
In fact, her real color had grown out several inches at this point.
“I told you it was real,” Helen said.
“Why would you ever bleach this color? People pay top dollar for this.”
“It was a foolish impulse.” She’d done it so she could look like someone else. So she could blend into any crowd and be no one.
“The ends are rough,” Sal said. “We should cut at least two inches.”
“Two?” Annie stood up and turned to look at Sal. “I thought it was just going to be a trim!”
“Sit down,” Helen said, laughing. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t shave you bald.”
“Just a trim, though I need my other kit. Helen, stick her head under the sink, would you? I need her wet.” She grabbed her keys and walked out the front door.
Annie looked at Helen, who looked at her over the top of her glasses and said, “You heard the lady. Let’s get you wet.”
“Helen!” Annie said.
Annie had been so good. Had been trying so hard. They both had, she thought. Annie didn’t tease, she didn’t make jokes. She didn’t allude to what had happened, and she tried not to stare. She tried only to think of their encounter, their coupling in the dark, when she was alone so Helen couldn’t read her face.
But she was thinking about it now. The heat spread through her like her heart was a pump meant exclusively for desire.
“You have something on under that sweater?” Helen asked. Her voice sounded strained.
