A snake charmer, only she was the snake.
Bethany stopped beside Kayla, nudging her aside with her hip. “Really, it’ll only be a minute.”
Kayla eyed me, then Bethany, and shrugged. “I’ll finish stocking our new shipment of shampoo. Let me know when you’re done.”
Bethany nodded, her smile a mix between sincere and calculated as she dragged one of the pink stools over and climbed onto it, putting us face to face. “I owe you an apology.”
I could’ve swallowed my tongue and been less shocked.
“I feel terrible about the way I’ve made you feel since you came back.” She held my gaze without flinching. “That wasn’t fair to you. You came home after losing your grandmother, then felt like I picked on you.” She didn’t mention the box of cereal or Mom’s car. Instead, it sounded so generic, like it had all been a misunderstanding. “I want you to know I didn’t mean anythingby it. I genuinely wanted to welcome you home.” She blinked wide eyes and took my hand between hers. “Can you ever forgive me?”
She sounded so genuine. I couldn’t remember anyone like her ever apologizing to someone like me.
Maybe the car had been a thoughtless prank instead of the malicious assault I’d conjured up. It might’ve been a stupid impulse that escalated. She might not have realized the damage it would cause.
I understood that impulses sometimes ran away with a person. Hell, I’d given in to more impulses since coming here than in my entire life put together. I understood doing something that made sense in the moment but was wrong in retrospect. “Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.” I almost apologized too. I almost told her I was sorry that I’d taken it all the wrong way, but I bit my tongue and waited until I was sure I could control my voice. “I forgive you, and I’d like to start over.”
Bethany sniffed and tapped her knuckle beneath her nose. “I’d really like that.” Her voice quivered, and she cleared her throat while standing. “Tell you what, let me do your trim. Free of charge. As a peace offering.”
The cold knot that had formed in my gut relaxed and warmed. This was what I’d wanted since the day I came back.
“Okay.” I smiled and nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
“Oh you’re welcome. Now lets get started.” She moved behind me and combed her fingers through my hair, sectioning it off. “You want a wash and trim, right?”
“Yes, please.” The weight of my hair pulled my head back slightly, and I worked to keep it level.
Bethany spun my chair around and leaned me back into the sink, gathering my hair over the lip and spraying my scalp with hot water. “It’s really great that you’re back in town. We don’t get a lot of people who do that, you know. You live in Boston, right?”
“Yes. I’m an event coordinator.” The hot water and Bethany’s nails scrubbed away the headache that had been blooming all morning. I closed my eyes and fought the sigh working its way up.
“How does it feel being away from the big city?” Bethany continued washing and conditioning my hair, asking questions and chatting with everyone who came through the door.
This was it. I was finally part of the club, part of Clover Hill and the inner group. I answered her questions the best I could without giving away the depths of my feelings for the town and three specific inhabitants. Thankfully, Bethany kept the conversation focused on work and general life and not love and men.
The chairs all filled up, creating a buzz of conversation that prickled beneath my skin.
This was the Clover Hill Nana Maeve loved.
Bethany lifted my head from the sink and wrapped a towel around my hair, squeezing out the water. “All right. Let’s see what we can do here.” Once again, she sectioned off my hair, putting the side pieces over my shoulder. A light pressure on the back of my head encouraged me to lean forward, and I did it without thinking.
“I see what you mean about the split ends. They were getting a bit wild back here.” Bethany’s voice came from close to my neck. She lifted a large section, far more than any hairdresser ever worked with at once. The scissors snipped with a clean, heavy stroke that sounded like tearing. The back of my neck went suddenly, terribly cold and weightless.
Bethany raised her hand slowly, holding up the length of my hair beside my face the way anyone else would hold a trophy. The thick rope of hair that had been long enough to brush my belt hung lifeless in her grasp.
The salon erupted. Laughter.
Cold. Cruel. Bitter laughter that crashed in from every direction. The other stylists, the women in the chairs, they all joined in, unified and feeding on each other the way cruelty is emboldened by the next snort, the next smirk.
“Oh my god.” Bethany’s voice lifted above it, bright with falsity, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. Cold and uncaring and completely satisfied with herself in this moment. “It slipped.”
I leaped out of the chair and ripped off the cape, reaching around to feel the bare nape of my neck and the ragged gap where my hair should be. The devastating bluntness sent my stomach spiraling.
There were no words cruel enough to throw at her, and I’d die before I let her see my tears. I grabbed my bag from the floor and slung it over my shoulder on my way to the door. My legs shook, but I powered through.
“Honey, where are you going?” Bethany’s voice followed me across the salon, warm amusement mingling with her calculated savagery. “We’re not done. Don’t you want me to even it out.”
More laughter, this time louder.I hope you all choke on your spit and fall out in the floor. I hope someday, you have a daughter who’s fat like me and you’re forced to realize how truly awful you are. No. I don’t wish that on your poor daughters. I hope you die old and alone without ever knowing love.I kept up the litany of near curses all the way to the door.
