I never expected to enjoy doing people’s hair, but I find it quite calming. I love everything about being a hairdresser. The laughter, the feel of smooth hair against my palm, the intoxicating scents of shampoo, conditioners, and serums make me feel right at home. Sometimes, I daydream of owning my own salon one day.
“Periwinkle, come here,” Sage calls over her snow-white miniature poodle.
Sage is in her forties and doesn’t have children. She once said with Periwinkle by her side, she never feels like she’s missing out on anything.
The little dog comes to settle at her feet.
“Good girl.” Sage leans back her head. “Do your magic.” She winks at me, then closes her eyes.
I always feel at ease in her presence.
Even though Alex and I have been in town for a year, some locals still look at us as outsiders. It’s a close-knit community and everybody thinks of each other as a family. We haven’t quite made it into that family yet.
It doesn’t matter. Having been a loner all my life, I never felt the overwhelming need to belong to any circle. I don’t go out of my way to fit in. I do my job, carry out my chores, and go home to my husband. We’ve been together since I was fifteen and he was a year older. Most of the fifteen years have been a struggle, but we’re still together. All we need is each other.
I don’t need a lot of friends in my life. All I need is a few good ones. Lavinia Holder, the only person I call my real friend, lives on the outskirts of Aston, and she comes to get her hair done by me at least once a month. Since our husbands both work at the high school, they get to see each other more than we do, but not a day goes by without us talking on the phone. We used to meet up more often before she had her baby and had to come into town to work as a nurse at Aston General Hospital.
As soon as I finish washing Sage’s hair, Periwinkle hops onto her lap and curls up into a ball.
I smile and slide a smooth lock of blonde hair between my middle and index fingers. When I almost reach the tip, I snip off an inch. The unwanted lock floats to the tile floor like a damp feather.
Sage reaches for a glossy magazine and flips it open on top of Periwinkle’s back. When she lands on a page with a baby beaming at the camera, my heart skips a beat.
Three more months and I’ll hopefully call myself a mom. I’ll never turn my back on my child like my mother did to me. It doesn’t matter what they do or don’t do, it will never change.
I daydream about my baby until I’m done with Sage’s hair and she gives me a large tip, which I drop into the jar so we can all share it at the end of the workday.
After Sage, I do three more haircuts and a hot oil treatment. For the baby’s safety, Delores keeps me from doing any treatments that might contain harmful chemicals.
By eleven o’clock, everything slows down. I’m grateful because my aching feet are pressing hard against the insides of my shoes. In only a couple of hours, they seem to have increased in size.
When Delores sees me massaging my swollen ankles, she pats me on the back. “I think you’re due for a break, love.”
“I don’t think I need one,” I say, but she insists.
I always feel the need to prove my worth to her. Soon I’ll have the baby and I’ll take some time off. I wouldn’t want her to think of replacing me. She promised that my job will be waiting for me, but I’m still nervous.
In the staff room, I pour myself a glass of water and sit at the small, round table with the ham and tomato sandwich I brought with me. Before I eat, I check my phone. One call from Alex. He hardly ever calls me before twelve. Something must be wrong.
When I return his call, he doesn’t answer. I wait three minutes, then try again. No response.
I lower the phone to the table and lift my sandwich to my lips. Before I can take a bite, Dolly bursts into the room, her face flushed.
“Are you okay?” I ask, frowning.
She shakes her head. “Have you seen?”
“Seen what?” I put down my sandwich. Dolly’s expression tells me I won’t be enjoying it anytime soon.
“Switch on the TV,” she breathes. Instead of letting me do it, she grabs the remote and flicks on the small TV in a corner of the room. I stiffen the moment the face of a beautiful teenage girl shows up on the screen, with breaking news scrolling from left to right at the bottom.
A knot forms in the pit of my stomach and the baby kicks.
Three months ago, a student of Aston High School disappeared and many believed she might have been murdered. The tragedy has rocked the small town and left wounds that will probably never heal.
Now we’re watching her body being wheeled from a dug-up grave in the woods close to the school.
“Poor Brittney is really dead.” Delores walks into the room, followed by her employees and customers.
