Ashley's Wedding (2 page)

"Yeh."

"Did you say your hair was thick or thin?"

"It's sort of ... medium I guess."

"And it doesn't curl much at all naturally?'

"No. I don’t even have waves in it when it’s wet, just a little curl at the ends"

"Well, we'll have to give you a pretty strong, tight perm to give you this style."

"How ... how would you get the curls into it? Would it have to be very short? You see, I've never, ever, had hair shorter than shoulder length.

"Well, based on this picture and what we did with the other girls, we’ll cut it to an overall length of not more than a few inches. The style is tight to the head. Their curls stick out less than an inch all over. It’s like a pretty halo of curls all around your head. The style is very pretty on girls with nicely shaped heads."

“I don’t know if my head is shaped nicely or not. I can’t tell with all the hair I have.”

The girl on the other end of the line laughed. She was irrepressible. “Don’t worry at all; we can make it work for you with no problem, since that’s what you have to do. You're in luck. I've just had a cancellation for tomorrow morning. Can you come at 9:30?"

"Yes." Susan was breathing as hard as though she'd just run five miles. "How long will it take?"

"Well, that depends on how long it takes to cut all that hair and how long it takes to get a curl, but I'd say plan on at least three hours."

"If I don't like it afterwards, can I get the curl out? Will it relax any by itself?"

"You can get it straightened. That's just about like a perm in reverse. Even then you might have some curl left, though. We do a thorough job with our perms; they’re made to last so it will probably hold tight until it grows out, if left by itself."

"Will I have to pin it up, and will it get frizzy?"

"No, it'll curl right up after you wash it and fluff it up with your fingers or a pick. Have you colored it or had a permanent before?"

"No."

"Then it should come out just fine - no frizz. If the ends split while we're perming it, we'll trim them off when we're done. OK? At 9:30?"

"All right."

"And you're ...?"

"Susan ... Susan Weston."

* * * * *

Susan stared at her reflection, the beautiful, long hair rippling over her shoulders and onto her upper back, having just enough curl to cup her breasts in the front. The hair gracefully framed her lovely, oval face and the large, dark eyes that seemed to smile in spite of the way she felt. Those smoky, sexy eyes - Jack would say - beneath somewhat heavy brows gave her a look of Madonna-like beauty and wisdom. She pulled the size five dress over her 5'4" frame and applied her usual little bit of makeup, only some powder and mascara. She’d skipped eye liner since she’d been unable to completely control the nervous shaking of her hand as she started to put it on.

She’d removed the frosted-white nail polish on her long fingernails, since she was getting a manicure at the salon. It was a warm, sunny, late spring morning, so Susan decided to walk the ten blocks to the beauty shop. She paused before the door, involuntarily swallowed hard, and walked in.

The receptionist spoke in a voice Susan remembered from the phone the day before.

"You're Susan?"

"Yes."

"My, you do have lovely hair. Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Susan could only nod, almost imperceptively.

"Alright. I've scheduled you with Erin. She's quick and good and most girls find that the way she works puts them at ease. Phuong will do your nails while Erin rolls you up. She did the other girls, so she knows the color and length Ashley wants. I guess Ashley likes short hair and short nails for her bridesmaids.” She smiled at Susan sympathetically.

“I’ve given Erin the picture that Ashley left with us and told her exactly what we discussed yesterday – I thought that might make you feel a little more at-ease, not having to go through all that long description again.

“Thanks. I’m pretty nervous.”

“Of course! Anyone would be. But you’re gonna look great! You’ve got the perfect face shape to pull this off.

“I hope you’re right.” I just hope Jack doesn’t hate how I’m going to look, Susan thought to herself.

Susan sat down to wait. With great difficulty, she resisted the urge to grab her hair and run out the door. She folded her hands in her lap and sat on the edge of the sofa.

A taller, older woman with medium length, reddish-blond hair came out, the picture in her hand.

"Susan?"

Susan rose and followed her back, seemingly back for hours, into a simple cubicle with a chair, sink, and cabinets for the things of hairdressing, and a single mirror on one wall. The woman reached into a drawer and pulled out a gown.

"Hi Susan, I'm Erin. You can change into this across the hall. Take off your dress first - that'll keep it from getting soiled or mussed.

There was no mirror in the changing room, just a rack and hangers. Susan changed quickly. Her hands were cold as ice and still shaking, at times severely. Consciously slowing her rapid breathing to try to regain some control over her nerves, she returned to Erin’s cube.

"It has to be just like the picture, right?" Erin asked, seating Susan in the chair and rotating her away from the mirror.

"Yes." Susan swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.

"OK, not a problem. I did two of the other girls, so I know just how to make this match. As much as you can, try to take it easy. You might as well try to have some fun with this. Who knows, you might just love it.”

Susan thought that was about a likely as getting struck by an asteroid, but she managed a weak smile.

“You have a lovely, oval face so any style will look good on you. I'm going to cut away the bulk of your hair first, then shape it for the perm, then give you the perm."

"I might cry."

"That's all right, dear, you wouldn't be the first. I understand."

Susan felt the chair rise as Erin moved her closer. The hairdresser pulled her hair behind her shoulders and combed it out. "I'm going to start now."

Susan bit her lip, closed her eyes tight. Tears began to form in them anyway and rolled down her cheeks. She felt the tug on her hair and the coolness of scissors on the right side of her chin as Erin brushed against her. She heard the quick "snip" as the metal closed about her hair. She felt the lock, now lost forever, slide across her shoulder. It fell to the floor. Another snip followed, and another. She felt her hair bunching together in the back. Erin combed it smooth and snipped again. Susan’s tears came slowly but steadily. Eventually, she felt Erin make a final cut of the long tresses on the left side. Most of it, that luxuriant hair of hers, that hair she loved, that Jack loved, lay strewn on the floor.

She heard sweeping below her and opened her eyes long enough to see another girl, the receptionist she realized, sweeping up the now useless hair. As she tilted her head to look, a shortened lock of hair flipped into her face, the ends now tickling he corners of her lip. She reached up with her hand. The tears came in a flood.

Erin stopped working for a few minutes, long enough for Susan to drink a little tea and sob it out. She kept Susan turned away from the mirror as she swung her around to the sink. She tilted her back, washed her hair, blotted it dry and announced, "I'm going to shape it now."

Susan, eyes still closed, felt the hairdresser begin at the top in front cutting, cutting, cutting all over her head. Time seemed to be moving faster now. Susan, far from calm, had ceased crying. Finally, she realized that Erin had stopped cutting for more than a few moments.

"How long is my hair now?" She asked, somewhat surprised at herself for speaking at all.

"About two and a half inches all over, Susan. I'm going to roll it up now. To get the effect in the picture, that very tight curl, I'm going to use these micro curlers, so this will take a while. I'll also use our strongest waving lotion, since your hair is really very straight now. Oh, here’s Phuong – perfect timing!"

A young Asian girl with straight black hair as long as Susan’s had been introduced herself. Susan reached around her smock to shake her hand. Phuong spoke in a high-pitched voice with no accent.

“I’ll do your fingernails while Erin rolls you up, Susan. I’ve got Ashley’s instructions. I’ll give you a pedicure when you’re done here.”

”How’re you supposed to do them?”

“Fingernails short as possible and red, just like the other girls in the wedding. Toes short and rounded, same color.”

That didn’t surprise Susan, even though she hadn’t noticed the manicure and pedicure the other bridesmaids had. Say what you wanted, Ashley was consistent. Susan was going to walk out of this salon without either her hair or her nails.

She felt Phuong clipping off her lovely, medium-long nails, leaving nothing at the ends, as Erin began to roll her up.

It did take a while, forty-five minutes or so, to roll her short hair onto the slender rollers. Phuong finished her manicure a few minutes before Erin was done rolling. Susan’s nails were short and red and Phuong had done a very good job. They felt funny, as short as they were, but she had to admit that they were simple and pretty. Of course, she didn’t like them at all.

After Erin rolled up the last lock of hair, she immediately began to apply the waving lotion, saturating the hair on each curler, then soaking Susan's whole head again.

Oh God, Susan thought, I can’t believe what’s happening to my hair. It’s almost all gone, and now it’s going to curl up tightly on its own and there’s not going to be anything I can do about it. Once again, she forced herself to breath evenly. She didn’t want any more tears to come.

In twenty minutes Erin checked a curl. "Not nearly tight enough." She rolled it back up again and continued the small talk she had begun when Susan first sat down in her cubicle. Susan answered very little. That didn't seem to bother Erin as she talkatively continued on.

Fifteen minutes later the curl was still not tight enough. Ten minutes more and Erin announced, "done," and began applying neutralizer all over Susan's head. Susan sat there for about five minutes, with the occasional distracting, uncomfortable feeling of drops of the thin neutralizer trickling along her scalp. Then carefully, one at a time, Erin removed the curlers. When they were all out, she applied more neutralizer, waited a few minutes more, and rinsed it out in the sink. She towel-dried Susan's now incredibly curly hair, applied some styling gel, and began to dry it with a blower that had a diffuser on the end. She carefully tousled the curls with her fingers as she dried them. Susan’s whole head of hair dried in just a few minutes. Erin continued, trimming a spot here and there, puffing and patting the hairdo. She finally spoke again.

"Your hair's all finished, Susan. With your face, it looks delightful! I'm going to turn you toward the mirror now. Be prepared for a shock of course since it's so very different from how it was. But I'm sure in a few days you'll like it very much. Slowly, she turned Susan toward the mirror. When she felt the chair stop, Susan opened her eyes.

"Oh ... oh!" She exclaimed, not in a loud voice. Her hand reached up to touch the tightly curled mass which was now all that remained of her once long, flowing mane. She felt unreal; a pressure in her head and a ringing in her ears came over her. She thought she was going to faint. Erin was ready with a glass of Coke. She sipped it, her eyes closing again. After a minute, she opened them and tried to examine herself. Her head looked so naked, felt so light, her neck so bare. I look like a little girl, or a cupie doll, she thought. I'm cute, not beautiful anymore.

Taking her hand, Erin led her across the hall and helped her into her dress. "It really does look nice on you, Susan. You'll look darling at the wedding."