At the very least, I can show up looking like I’ve got it together… even if I don’t feel like it yet.
I push open the door to the barbershop, the bell chiming softly overhead.The place looks just like the ones back in the city with brick walls, chairs in a line, big windows letting in streams of natural light, and that familiar mix of wax, hairspray, and aftershave lingering in the air.Nothing fancy, but it has a charm, the kind that feels lived in.
A bearded guy in his mid-thirties, with a solid build like he spends serious time at the gym, greets me with a friendly smile.Tattoos snake up both arms, and his confident stance says he owns the place, or at least runs the show.
“Hey.”He pauses mid-trim, clippers still in hand, and glances up to greet me.
“Hi.Do you have time for a haircut?”I ask, wiping sweat from my temple.
His eyes scan me briefly, not in a judgmental way, just a quick once-over.Normally, I don’t overthink stuff, but here, in this unfamiliar place, even the smallest thing makes me feel like I stick out.
“Yeah.Take a seat here.”He points to one of the black chairs.“I’ll be a couple of minutes, then I’ll be right with you.”
I slide into the seat, noticing he’s the only barber working.But it’s nine a.m., so maybe it’s just early.
There’s a small TV in the corner, playing the morning news on low volume.I watch it for a few seconds, then glance at the barber, who finishes up with an older gentleman, their conversation drifting from sports to grandkids.
After a few friendly pats on the back and a chuckle, the man pulls out his wallet, hands over a bill, and waves off the change with a grin.There’s something easy and familiar in the way the barber interacts with him, like he knows how to make people feel comfortable without trying too hard.
When he’s done, the barber brushes off his hands and walks over to me.
“I’m Derek,” he says, offering a hand.“I own the place.”
“Adrian.I just moved here.”I shake his hand.
He doesn’t mention the article, doesn’t give any sign he recognizes me from the picture, and maybe he doesn’t.Or maybe he does and just wants to form his own impression.The thought makes my chest feel like it’s opening up, just a little.
“So, what brings you to town?”He drapes a cape around me and snaps it in place.
“I’m joining Keith Montgomery’s practice.”
He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition.“Keith Montgomery, huh?”He pauses.“So you’re planning to stick around, then?Not just a couple of months kind of thing?”
“Yeah, I’m here for good.I’m staying with Keith while I look for something to purchase.”
I’m staying because, truthfully, I have no other choice.No hospital’s going to take me after the way things ended, and Keith gave me an opportunity when no one else would.I owe him.
“Smart move.All right, tell me what you want.”
I run my fingers through the hair on the sides of my head.“Short on the sides, like a one or two, faded up.Keep the top a bit longer, you know, just clean it up.”
“Got it.”Derek grabs the clippers and starts working.A steady buzz of the clippers fills the space, mixed with faint music playing from a radio in the corner.
“You from here?”I ask.
“Born and raised.My dad owned this shop before me.”
“Do you work alone?”
“Most mornings, yeah.I’ve got a guy who helps out in the afternoons.Regulars like their routines.”
We fall into easy conversation.He tells me about the local bar, The Pulse Point Tavern, good for watching sports, with an awesome outdoor area.
“What about gyms?Cafes?”I ask.
Derek lists off a gym just down the road, a bakery with the best pastries, a coffee shop that knows how to make a decent cold brew, and a smoothie spot I’d probably never find on my own.Some of it overlaps with what Keith has shown me, but he adds his own personal twist.
We talk about where to buy a house, which spots are quiet, and which ones have character.He doesn’t sugarcoat anything, which I appreciate.
