Poor Charlene. “I have to run. I have plans tonight, and I have some things to do. Try to remind Tommy to call me before he goes to bed. I like to say good night to him.”
“Where are you going tonight?” he questions, suddenly sounding interested in the conversation, but I’m not going to give him any information about my personal life. It’s none of his business anymore, and I don’t need to hear his negativity. It will just ruin the confidence I’ve worked so hard to build in myself.
“None of your business. Goodbye.” I end the call and immediately notice that I have a text from Lukas on my screen.
Lukas: Knock knock
Me: Who’s there?
Lukas: Orange
Me: Orange who?
Lukas: Orange you glad you’re gonna see me tonight? ;-)
Giggling, I type back.
Me: Yes, I am. You’re a goofball. ;)
His cute text has instantly lifted my mood, something he definitely has a gift for. It’s impossible to be in a bad mood with Lukas around.
I grab all my hair stuff and take it into the bathroom, placing it all on the vanity. I mix up all the bottles, take my blouse off and put an old tee shirt on, comb my hair straight, and then put on the black latex gloves, which remind me of the ones that Lukas uses.
The mixture is thick and a weird reddish-pink color, but the girl assured me this would come out the cool auburn color that I want. Using the little black brush, I start to paint it onto my hair. The front around my face is easy, but when I start to get it on the sides and back, it becomes increasingly difficult to figure out if I’m actually getting all of my hair because my hair is so long and thick. The brush seems useless, so I put it aside and use my fingers instead to spread gobs of the colored goop through my hair. But it quickly becomes sticky, stiff, and weird, making it hard to spread apart. How the hell is my hair ever going to be soft and silky after this? There’s just no way!
I have no idea if I’ve gotten the color onto the back part of my head, so I flip my head upside down and spread more of the mixture with my fingers, panicking at how long this is taking. What if I’ve gone past the half hour? And do I start counting the half hour when I’m actually all done or when I started? I start to cry, thinking I am going to be bald when this is over. Why did I do this? Gray hair has got to be better than this mess.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
I flip my head back up to see Macy standing in the doorway, her eyes wide.
“I wanted to dye my hair, but I don’t think it’s working. I think I’ve missed a bunch of spots, and I can’t tell where, and now it feels all sticky and . . . hard.” I hold out my gloved hands, covered in stray hairs and pink goop. “And I think my hair is all coming out!”
She rushes forward. “Geez, Mom, you totally need supervision!”
I nod, feeling ridiculous. “I’m scared I ruined it. And look at all the strands that are coming out! I think I’m going to be bald.”
My daughter’s sweet side makes an appearance. “Mom, it’s okay. I dye Shelly’s hair all the time. This is normal. Let me just finish it for you.”