Barber

“I want a buzz cut like my dad and brothers,” I said to the barber sitting down. “No,” he replied calmly.

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

To cut my hair was a kinda deadly sin according to my mom. It was THEN. When my mom was present. THEN my hair was trimmed once a month in the barbershop. The same as mom’s hair. Our hair was thick dark blonde and wavy. All three of my brothers and dad had thin dark brown straight hair. It looked greasy even immediately after the wash. All of them kept their hair short. Like buzz cut.

The barber shop owned by Mr. King was on the other side of the street from my dad’s hardware store. My older brother Mike and I were working with dad all summer. My other two brothers Nat and Gab were too young to work. But they were almost all day around here.

The delivery truck had called it would be late. So I had some time to myself. I decided to have a haircut. The same as my dad and brothers. Because I was tired of them teasing me and calling me names. Like mommy’s girl.

Mom had got into a car accident. And she was in the hospital now. She was put in a coma because of swelling in her head. Coma is kinda almost dead but still alive though like not here.

So we were living without her. And our home got messy in a few days. Five men in one place may cause a great mess. Dad and brothers were ok with it. But I felt it like a disrespect to mom. So I started cleaning and dusting. I did the laundry because dirty things were everywhere. And I started doing meals. Like the real meal in the kitchen. Cuz having pizza two times a day ten days in a row was too much.

When at home I was in mom’s leggings. Because all my things were dirty. Dad and brothers wore the same things that were not too dirty. Their words. The teasing started when they saw me in leggings and the hairband.

Kinda girl, momma’s girl, housewife, chick. They almost brought me to tears. Dad said I was the only girl in the family now. Then he admitted he was only teasing me.

“It’s your hair,” he said.

Then customers in the store addressed me as a miss. Dad looked at me sheepishly and shrugged while my bro Mike chuckled.

“Your hair,” dad said after customers left.

So it was my hair?

Then some hour later I noticed a speck of dirt on dad’s overalls. I said he needed to change.

“You’re such a girl!” he exclaimed.

No! Really! A girl? Because I was caring about our image. HIS store image. A girl because of hair. Enough was enough. If it’s the price of having nice hair, then no. Thank you very much! Buzz cut looks not so bad too. No shampooing, no brushing and combing, no worries, and no teasing.

The delivery truck was late and I had time. Barber’s pole was spinning on the other side of the street. I opened the door and entered. The doorbell rang and Mr. King turned to greet me.

“Howdy, honey?” he said. He addressed honey to everyone younger.

“Trimming as usual? Shoulder length?” he questioned.

“Not this time,” I replied.

“I want a haircut like my dad and brothers,” I explained sitting down on the pneumatic chair.

“No,” Mr. King said calmly.

“What do you mean as no? Why not?” I was shocked.

“No,” he said again.

“But why?”

“Hadn’t your mommy said it’s a deadly sin to cut your hair?”

“Well… yeah… But she’s not here and I’m an adult…”

“Adult? How old are you honey?” Mr. King asked with a smirk.

“Sixteen,” I responded. “And I have a driver’s license already.”

“Calm down and let’s have a talk,” he offered.

“Ok. I guess…”

“So what happened?” he asked.

I was about to retell what happened today and before. But I didn’t want dad and brothers to seem slobs.

“Dad said, I’m such a girl.” It was the last straw. But it was the only thing I could tell Mr. King not demeaning dad and brothers.

“I see…” the barber shook his head. “And you are not.”

“I’m not,” I confirmed, “so let’s cut that hair.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m NOT such a girl!” I retorted impatiently.

“Are you in a hurry?” Mr. King asked.

“Well… No. Why?”

“You are with young Baxter?” he asked instead.

My friend Joe’s surname was Baxter. Joe lived next door and we spent a lot of time together. It’s when I wasn’t at dad’s store.

“Yeah… Why?” I said.

Mr. King turned away from me and stepped through the door to the street.

“Hey! Mister!” I heard him shouting.

A moment later he had my friend Joe inside.

“Your friend young Katz is about to get a buzz cut,” the barber said. Katz is my surname.

“Why?” Joe turned to me.

“Cuz dad says I’m SUCH a girl,” I said in response. For Joe, I could say more. Actually, I could say him everything. But Mr. King was here and I didn’t want him to know what was happening in the family.

“Well…” Joe started, “sometimes you really are.”

“WHAT?!”

“Sometimes,” he said. “Usually you are cool.”

“But I’m not. How could you?” I felt I was on verge of tears.

“Here you are!” dad exclaimed entering the barbershop.

“Why hello Mr. Katz to you too,” Mr. King said.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” dad apologized, “hello everyone.”

There was a pause as if dad had forgotten what to say.

“Doctor has called from the hospital,” he said at last.

“Something with mom?” I asked worriedly.

“Well, yes. Your mother woke up,” dad started. “She’s fully conscious now and she wants to see her girl.”

“Whom?”

“You!”

“Why me?”

“Because only you pass,” dad responded. “By the way, what are you doing here?”

“I’m getting buzz cut,” I retorted.

“Why?” dad wondered.

“Because,” Mr. King said, “you named someone in this room SUCH A GIRL!”

“I did?”

“You did,” I confirmed.

“Oh boy…” dad exclaimed. “You really are such a girl!”