The familiar smell of wet hair and lemon shampoo greeted her nose as she pushed open the door and stepped in off the cold Colorado streets. Snow was forecasted for that weekend, and it looked as though the weather girl might be right for once.
Janet Fraiser pulled off her gloves as the door closed behind her, and she stuffed them in her pockets before then loosening her scarf and unbuttoning her coat. It was warm in the small salon, and the bright cheerful lighting was a stark contrast to both the weather outside and to Janet’s mood.
“Janet, nice to see you.” Janet forced a smile as the salon’s owner and her usual hairdresser, René McKenzie, greeted her, smiling brightly. “What can we do for you today? More highlights? Layers?”
“All off,” Janet told her bluntly as René lead her to a chair and sat her down. Her naturally brown and wavy hair was already down; tangled by the wind during the short walk from the car to the salon. “Short enough to comply with the Air Force regs.”
Behind her, René gasped. “Are you sure?” she asked, reaching for a comb to put through the tangles. Janet’s hair was a good three inches past her shoulders, and although René had seen even more drastic cuts than what Janet was proposing, she had seen more than one occasion when it had ended in tears. Ever since she had set up her salon in Colorado Springs, she was often frequented by members and future members of the military, and was well aware of the regulations pertaining to hair length. Janet had come to her for her haircuts and highlighting for nearly six years now, and although her hair had been short before, for the past couple of years she had let it remain long. René had commented on it about six months previously when she had come in for highlights, and Janet had just laughed coyly, and said that there was a reason for why she was keeping it long. René wasn’t stupid; she had guessed that there was a man involved, and with enough pressure, Janet had confessed that there was. Maybe something had gone wrong between them, although René wouldn’t pry.
“Sure,” Janet was firm and blunt, her voice not betraying anything about what she was feeling inside. Emotionally, she was very fragile at the moment, and she didn’t trust her voice to hold out for any longer.
“Okay then,” René said, quickly running the comb through Janet’s hair before instructing her customer to lean back while she washed the brown locks. She was quiet as she worked, sensing that Janet didn’t want to talk. If she had broken up with that guy she had told René about then she must be upset.
Squeezing the excess moisture from the hair, René reached for her scissors. “Last chance,” she warned, the blades glinting as they caught the overhead lights.
“Just do it,” Janet said. She heard the scissors snip through the first time, and in her head, she could see the lock of brown hair falling from the floor. Daniel had loved her hair; he had been the reason she had kept it long. He would run his fingers through it when she lay sprawled across his chest in bed. After greeting him when he returned from a mission, Janet invariably had to redo her hair, as his fingers tangled in it or even removed the clip totally, allowing her hair to cascade around her shoulders. He had always preferred it when she wore it down, and whenever she complained about the maintenance, he had been there; brushing, drying and even washing it for her.
Another cut, and another, and Janet couldn’t help but think about Daniel’s life had been cut short like her hair was being done now. The sharp blades easily sliced through the strands just as easily as human life ended. However, her hair would grow back; Daniel could not get his life back, no matter how much she wanted him to be with her again.
With Daniel filling her thoughts, as he had done ever since his death... ascension over two weeks previously, René had soon finished with her hair, and twisted the chair around to face the mirror. Janet barely recognised the woman looking back at her. Her hair was now cropped close to her head, and dark, dull and lifeless eyes stared at her from a pale sunken face. She had barely stepped out of the house in the past two weeks, and the colour that the bitter wind outside had provided her with had barely lasted. The hollows in her cheeks told of her lack of appetite, and were just enhanced by her new haircut.
“It’s fine,” she told René shortly, rising from the chair. “How much do I owe you?”
“Thirty dollars,” René replied, and as Janet began to rummage in her bag, her gaze turned to the hair lying on the floor. “Don’t suppose you want to keep a lock?” she asked. “Quite a few people do when they’ve had that much taken off.”
Janet looked at the remnants of her hair. Everything reminded her of Daniel – her hair was no exception. “No,” she replied, handing three ten-dollar bills to René. “Thanks a lot. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, take care Janet,” René said, watching Janet prepare herself once again to face the elements. Turning back to clear around the chair, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the woman who had previously come to get her hair done.
Outside, Janet pulled her coat close to her, shivering as the chill wind whipped around her.
Alone, she headed to the car.