He knows he fucked up. But he still cares.
Moisture gathers in the corners of my eyes, and I shut them quickly to prevent it from spilling over. I vowed I’d never shed another tear for this man, and that includes the warm, fuzzy, compassionate ones.
This isn’t the first picture he’s posted that seemed like a thinly veiled callout to me; early on in his time there, he posted several shots of peonies; fields of them, carts full of them in a market, just endless peonies as far as the eye could see. That was for me, I know it was. A callout to better times between us, and what’s been my favorite flower ever since. But this picture has been the most unmistakably direct one.
His tenacity has me thinking maybe, just maybe, there is something left of the man I knew, and our friendship might possibly be salvaged.
Thankfully,it wasn’t all that long before I got the most scalp-relieving shampoo of my life, followed by a to-die-for head massage that’s worth this outrageous price tag on its own, some more resting and sitting with my head in the sink while Deanna applies more products, and eventually, I’m back in her chair.I don’t bother trying to sneak glances while she applies more creams and potions and works the hair dryer with some really funky attachments.
After what feels like longer than all of my previous hair appointments put together, my chair is spun around and I’m facing myself, but not the me I’m used to seeing in the mirror. When I catch my own reflection, my eyes light up with something I’ve never seen in them before.
What Deanna has done is nothing short of magic. The top of my hair is still my natural brown, but somehow, gradually, in the most natural way I’ve ever seen, it blends into blonde until the ends are mostly this gorgeous shade I didn’t even realize I could pull off.
She’s styled it in a way that embraces that natural wave I have and enhances it, so it looks intentional rather than a bad side effect of the way I slept last night. It looks…chic. It makes me feel feminine, but without the imposter syndrome I felt that time I tried to dress up for Aaron. It feels more like she’s captured my personality in a hairstyle, and I never knew that was a thing until this moment.
Jumping out of my chair, I lean in for a closer look and an honest-to-God giggle comes out as I spin around and watch what my new hair does as I do in the reflection of the floor-length, gold-framed mirror in front of me.
“This is incredible!” My voice sounds breathless, but I don’t care.
“So glad you like it.” A note of thrill weaves through her serene tone. “Now Alex told me you guys wanted something that was an everyday look that you could recreate on your own.”
Tears threaten to spring at the corners of my eyes at the thought my only remaining friend put into this gesture for me, probably knowing I’d resort back to ponytails or some form ofscraggly buns if I couldn’t get the same look as the stylist on my own.
“So I’m gonna show you what I did, are you ready?”
With my eager nod, she’s off, explaining about this spray she used that made it smell like heaven and also gave ittexturewhich meant the style would hold. Seems a little silly to me to clean your hair just to put artificial dirt in it, but if it turns out looking like this, I’d rub actual dirt in it if she tells me to.
If you told me the price of smelling like a field of flowers and looking like I woke up flawless day in and day out was drinking faerie wine, I’d throw that shit back faster than you could sayPrythian, consequences be damned. I’ve long wished I had someone to show me how to do the whole girly thing. I just never learned how to do it on my own. The fact that Alex saw that, and found a way to help me solve it (without making me feel awkward, embarrassed, or like I’m lacking as a female) touches something in my heart. Pretty sure those dastardly tears are making an appearance again, so I wipe them away and pay attention to what this wizard is teaching me.
After a few more minutes of instruction, we book my follow-up appointment (my little cold heart expands once more when Deanna explains to me that she and Alex chose something where the color could just grow out and wouldn’t need to be touched up for quite a while; another display of thoughtfulness that is making me thankful I have her guiding me on this experience), she takes a picture or nine for her Instagram and shoots them off to Alex as well, as promised, and I pay more than I haveeverspent on my appearance (that’sbeforethe generous tip, mind you), and don’t regret a single penny of it.
Because combined with all of my Pinterest perusing, Instagram surfing, and those new outfits in my closet, this haircut just bought me a level of self-confidence I’ve never felt in my entire life. I’m starting to look and feel likemefor whatmight be the first time ever, and I think that might be worth any price.
SIXTEEN
AARON
For a low-budget indie film,The Sabbaticalsure is beating the shit out of me.
Day sixteen of thirty-nine, and it feels like I’ve been here for three months already.
It both doesanddoesn’t help that the entire movie is essentially just me. It’s about a young artist who’s having problems coming up with original ideas and decides to move to an abandoned castle on his own for an extended period to reset himself. Some days it’s just filming montages of doing manual labor in the fields, the gorgeous Carpathian Mountains as the backdrop, helping create some top-tier cinematography. Other days, I’m sipping apple juice in a dark and dusty castle room, pretending to slowly lose my mind in a descent of madness and dependency on a local alcohol called ?uica.
It’s not such a far stretch for me, to be honest.
This role has been challenging, exploring new emotional depths my previous roles haven’t allowed me to, but there have been other challenges lately adding to my mental strain. There was a…minor hiccup, let’s call it, where my newest assistant, Shirley, fumbled getting my hotel reservations taken care of, due to some mishap Istilldon’t understand. What I do know is thatit meant I was homeless my first night here, and I couldn’t reach her for some God-forsaken reason. She didn’t travel with me—which was probably for the best all around—but it meant I was stranded in a foreign country where I don’t speak the language, with minimal support from the skeleton crew on the ground here and no one to help me back home either.
Thankfully, I was able to find a charming hotel for the night and the next day she got me all sorted out, but it’s just one in a long string of fuck-ups lately that have me missing the smoothness my life used to hold, the one I never realized I had until it was gone.
The rhythm Gem and I had going was second nature for both of us. It was more like a river flowing, no dams or pile-ups to stop the current. We hopped from one project to the next, whether it was one of a dozen smaller tasks in a day, or going from film project to TV show to another film year in and year out.
Now it feels more like every hour presents new problems, more things that inhibit my plans and my already tight schedule. I’m starting to realize my life has always been complicated. The thing that’s changed is really just who is helping me navigate it.
With Gem, it probably helped that we never got sick of each other, so the long days of travel or shooting were never irritating to us, just a part of life. We’d kill time between takes by prepping for the next shot, or if that (and the rest of my life) was under control (it usually was), we’d share memes, trailers of upcoming video games we wanted to play, or just shoot the shit.
Truth be told, I’m kind of relieved to have a few weeks away from Shirley. She just, kind of, stands therewatchingwhile I’m prepping, or filming, and it weirds me out. I know she’s there toassistme, and is just on standby for my next order, but Gem never used to do that. It’s kind of creepy.
It’s taking me longer than I’d hoped to get into that same rhythm with this one, and every time there’s another…hiccup, my patience wanes even further. I’m starting to lose hope for this working out at all.
