Part VII: Time Warp 2000’s – Cut! #16 (Chapter 118)
I cut my hair like a boy’s, half-inch auburn needles.
Shel had a fit, but now there’s not much he can do about it
other than fume day and night.
Fait accompli.
I love it, though, I love being able to see the shape of my
head.
I had never noticed before how, in profile, my head, from the
crown to the base of the neck, resembles a question mark.
I saved my hair, just in case I change my mind.
I can always have a wig made – I doubt if I ever will.
When I shower, I like rubbing homemade lye soap around my
head, I like the nasty acid smell, the sex smell in my hair —
I like shaking the water out like a dog.
Shel thinks I cut my hair to spite him, to embarrass him in
front of his colleagues.
How can I tell him that all that hair was dragging me down,
smothering me, that cutting it had nothing to do with my being a good wife/bad
wife and everything to do with levity?
I could never spite him. After all, he saved my life when I
needed saving.
Actually, Shel’s a not a bad sort.
I can’t blame him for everything that has gone wrong in my
life, whatever that is.
He tries to listen. He asks me questions and values my
opinion.
Really he does.
In fact, if you asked him, he would insist that he belongs to
that new breed of sensitive and enlightened male, always helping around the
house, doing the grocery shopping, nurturing his children.
When I try telling him how I feel, why do the words catch in
my throat?
*
Date: Wed, 10 Jan 2001 4:35:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: 😏 Candace
Halloran <ch@vipst.com>
Subject: Did you get my message?
To: sam@artworky.com
Dear Samantha,
Well, I haven’t heard from
you yet.
I called the guys at
TimeCycle, and they assured me that Henry had delivered the letter, so I’m
assuming you’re still taking all this in.
It’s a shock, I know.
When my parents first told
me, I hardly knew what to think.
At first, I was just
burning mad that such a monumental fact of my life was kept a secret for so
long.
Perhaps you could just
acknowledge this so that I can be reassured that Henry did his job?
Yours truly,
Candy Halloran
