"I'm not checking him out," I insisted
"You gave him a bowl."
"Basically, he paid me for it. He gave me a hundred dollars for that haircut." What I meant was that he had given me (at least) a hundred dollars for the haircut. I regretted saying any amount of money.
"Forty isn't that much for that bowl," she said, stating what his change would have been.
"I'm sorry I gave away your candy bowl," I said.
"No, I'm just saying. If he gets the bowl, he's at least flirt-worthy."
"He's not. I mean, he is, but I wasn't flirting. He was just a nice person, and I was being nice to him."
"Why didn't you ask him about rescheduling? Why were you nervous?"
"Did I seem nervous?" I asked, trying to sound extra easy-going.
"No, I'm just wondering why you didn't reschedule him. You do that with everyone else."
"He's not from here," I said. "He was just passing through town. I knew he wouldn't be back, that's why I felt like I should give that bowl to him today."
I had been nervous because I was overwhelmed. This guy was familiar to me. I had spent a summer with a neighborhood boy when my mom was married to my second stepdad. That was in Chicago, and he was from Chicago, and the whole haircut, all I did was try to ignore the fact that he looked identical to a grown-up version of that boy.
EJ was his name, and this guy's name was Edward Paul. It made sense that the name EJ would be short for Edward, but there was no way the same guy from the summer in Chicago would land in my chair in Pittsburgh all these years later.
I had a hard time shaking the confusion I felt as a result of this customer. He was exactly like the boy I knew years ago. The whole interaction had been a whirlwind, and I found myself lost in thought aboutit as I absentmindedly adjusted things on the front desk.
"I know you're not interested, and I'm not trying to be pushy or anything, but just so you know, it looked like he was checking you out."
"Well, it's a good thing I'm never gonna see him again because I won't have to break it to him that I don't date."
"You might date again one day," she said. "No one said you're broken forever."
I gave her a playful grimace. "Not needing a man doesn't make me broken. You of all people know that. It's the opposite. I'm quite happy now that this place is doing well and I can pay Gabe back. I'm ready to be fully self-sufficient."
"I know, and I know how hard you work. I'm proud of you."
"It's not about being attracted to him. I'm just amazed that he looks so much like somebody I knew when I was a kid," I said out loud, since I was unable to stop thinking about it.
"What? What if he is that person?" she asked, getting too excited. "Did you like this person? Would it be likely that he would look you up and come to get a haircut? Could it be the same guy?"
"Well, I thought about it the whole time I cut his hair, honestly. But if that were the case, wouldn't he say something to me about it? He wouldn't just sit there and let me cut his hair like he didn't know me, would he?"
"I have no idea. You did give him a bowl."
"How crazy," I said, shaking my head and staring blankly at the countertop. "I’m taking a lunch," I added, snapping out of it. "I have fifteen minutes before my next one, so I'm going in the back to eat."
As I was saying that, the salon phone rang. I hesitated on the other side of the counter while Bree answered it. I had no idea why, but in that instant, I thought it was Edward calling back, and I hesitated.
"Thanks for calling Van Rodgers Salon, this is Bree speaking. How can I help you? (a pause) Yes sir, Mr. Paul," Bree said in a normal tone, but staring at me with wide eyes as she held the phone to her ear. She listened. I waited. Suddenly, it crossed my mind that he had accidentally handed me too much money and he was coming back to get the rest of it. Or maybe something was wrong with the haircut. I listened, but I couldn't hear what he was saying.
"Of course," she said, breaking into movement. She started doing the familiar motions of working on the computer to book an appointment.
The thought of Edward coming back to the salon gave me a feeling that was something akin to having butterflies. I had not experienced butterflies in a long time, and with my decision to no longer fully trust men, I thought that sensation was over for me. I knew nothing would come of it, but those feelings were fun to experience, and I had to stifle a smile.
"Yes, sir. Some of our gentlemen clients come every three or four weeks, and some go as long as every eight weeks or more. Given the length of your hair, I would tend to go on the shorter side of that, maybe four weeks. (a pause) Oh, two? Sure. I can check her availability in two weeks."
She glanced at me with those wide eyes again, and I had the feeling that I was going on a roller coaster, but I pretended everything was normal and just gave her a little shrug.
