David swiped at his eyes again. His mom pulled him close and rubbed his back.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said. “It might not feel like it, but it will.”
David nodded and let his mom hold him.
forty-seven
Farzan
Jarrod Pancake—yeah, that was his real name, and yeah, Farzan always referred to him by his full name, Jarrod Pancake—stared at him in the mirror.
“What’re we doing today?” he asked. “The usual trim?”
“Not today.” He held up his phone, with a picture of a simple, short haircut with a side part. It almost looked like Ramin’s, now that he thought of it.
Well, Ramin had his shit together. Ramin was successful and happy and in a committed relationship and probably had a good credit score.
“Shit, you go through a breakup or something?” Jarrod Pancake said as he studied the picture.
Farzan stared into Jarrod Pancake’s cornflower-blue eyes in the mirror. He was in his fifties, white and bald and a little fat, and Farzan had been coming to him to get his hair cut for the last fifteen years because he was the best. But he was also alarmingly direct and too damned perceptive.
“No comment,” Farzan huffed.
“Oof. I feel you. Just be careful. Cut your hair for a man too much,you’ll end up looking like me.” Jarrod Pancake pointed at his shiny head, which finally got a small smile out of Farzan.
His cheeks were out of practice. He hadn’t found much energy to smile lately.
In the nearly two weeks since he’d called things off with David, Farzan had filled the days with work. There was always something to do around the bistro: in fact, he was actually turning into a somewhat decent plumber, after having to fix the bathroom sink when it broke in the middle of service one night and they hadn’t been able to get someone to come quickly enough.
Farzan’s shirt had been drenched and his phone battery dead from all the videos he’d watched, but he’d fixed it.
His father had been impressed when he saw it.
He’d been less impressed when Farzan said he and David weren’t together anymore, but Farzan hadn’t been ready to talk about it. Or about the loan. He’d spent enough nights crying. He might’ve been a fuckup, but he had people counting on him and a job to do.
Farzan blinked when he realized Jarrod Pancake had asked him something as he sprayed down Farzan’s hair.
“Come again?”
“He break your heart or you break his?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.
Only… no. That wasn’t true.
“I guess maybe I broke his,” Farzan admitted as Jarrod Pancake combed and sectioned him. It had been for David’s own good, though. So why did he still feel like shit?
“Oof.” Jarrod Pancake began combing and sectioning. “You want a shave too?”
“I better.” Farzan’s scruff had turned into a scraggly beard, in that awkward stage of growth where there was no making it look good. He hadn’t exactly been on top of his facial hair lately.
“All right. When I get done with you, you’re going to be a new man.”
He hoped so. He didn’t much like the man he was now.
“Where do you want these?” Arya hoisted a green plastic laundry basket, its contents shrouded by a Persian tablecloth. His nails were painted alternating gold and silver.
“What are they?”
