Page 56
Story: Hidden Nature
And that was that, she thought as she set the phone down.
She’d known it, and in her captain’s position, she would have said and done the same.
“No whining,” she ordered herself. “Absolutely none.”
Reaching up, she rubbed the scar on her forehead.
“I’m not going to bitch, not going to give in to that. Just because I can’t walk without huffing, can’t lift over a couple pounds. Can’t even brush my own damn hair without it hurting.”
She looked down at the dog, who sat faithfully at her feet.
“I can’t brush my damn hair. I hate seeing this reminder of that night on my stupid face. So, why don’t I just fix that? I can fix that.”
She pulled open a drawer, took out scissors.
“This is probably a terrible idea. I’m doing it anyway.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Like farmers, resort towns rise and fall on the weather. When Elsie came in with Drea, her thoughts centered there.
“Hitting the fifties this weekend means boat rentals. How about we run a weekend special?”
“Already in the works.” Drea shed her coat. “We’re doing a flyer, and housekeeping’s putting one in all the units.”
“Should’ve known you’d have it covered. How about we…”
Then her thoughts drained away as Sloan came slowly down the stairs with the kitchen scissors in one hand, a long hank of blond hair in the other.
“I just wanted it gone.”
As she heard both tears and defiance in her daughter’s voice, Elsie moved into support mode. “You wanted a change.”
“You sure got one,” Drea added, and got a quick elbow jab from her mother.
“I just couldn’t deal with it—the motion right now. Washing, drying, brushing. So I thought,I’ll get rid of it.Oh my God.”
In something close to horror, she stared at the tail of hair in her hand.
“I whacked it off. I just whacked it off.”
“We can fix it. Here now.” Elsie moved up, took the scissors out of Sloan’s hand. “I can fix it, and if I can’t, we’ll call Aileen, and she’ll come and fix it.”
“I look like I put a bowl on my head. I didn’t!”
“You went heavy on the bangs,” Drea observed, and ignoringSloan’s snarl, considered. “I like that part. It’s a good look. The rest’s a disaster, but the bangs work. Once they’re evened up a little.”
“Drea, third drawer, my side of the bathroom vanity. Get the kit I use when I cut your father’s hair, and a towel. Did you forget I cut your father’s hair, and have actual tools for it?”
Miserably, Sloan stared at the sheared-off hank of hair. “Yes.”
“So I can fix it, and if I can’t fix it good enough, we’ll call Aileen. She’s been doing my hair for, lord, fifteen years. Come on, come sit in the kitchen. Cut it dry, with kitchen scissors, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
She felt like an idiot. Shehadbeen an idiot. The tears she couldn’t stop added to it.
“I was so angry and upset. I had to tell my captain what happened. I thought maybe I could do some remote work. Just background checks and that sort of thing. Something. But he said… basically, it was ‘See you next year.’”
She’d known it, and in her captain’s position, she would have said and done the same.
“No whining,” she ordered herself. “Absolutely none.”
Reaching up, she rubbed the scar on her forehead.
“I’m not going to bitch, not going to give in to that. Just because I can’t walk without huffing, can’t lift over a couple pounds. Can’t even brush my own damn hair without it hurting.”
She looked down at the dog, who sat faithfully at her feet.
“I can’t brush my damn hair. I hate seeing this reminder of that night on my stupid face. So, why don’t I just fix that? I can fix that.”
She pulled open a drawer, took out scissors.
“This is probably a terrible idea. I’m doing it anyway.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Like farmers, resort towns rise and fall on the weather. When Elsie came in with Drea, her thoughts centered there.
“Hitting the fifties this weekend means boat rentals. How about we run a weekend special?”
“Already in the works.” Drea shed her coat. “We’re doing a flyer, and housekeeping’s putting one in all the units.”
“Should’ve known you’d have it covered. How about we…”
Then her thoughts drained away as Sloan came slowly down the stairs with the kitchen scissors in one hand, a long hank of blond hair in the other.
“I just wanted it gone.”
As she heard both tears and defiance in her daughter’s voice, Elsie moved into support mode. “You wanted a change.”
“You sure got one,” Drea added, and got a quick elbow jab from her mother.
“I just couldn’t deal with it—the motion right now. Washing, drying, brushing. So I thought,I’ll get rid of it.Oh my God.”
In something close to horror, she stared at the tail of hair in her hand.
“I whacked it off. I just whacked it off.”
“We can fix it. Here now.” Elsie moved up, took the scissors out of Sloan’s hand. “I can fix it, and if I can’t, we’ll call Aileen, and she’ll come and fix it.”
“I look like I put a bowl on my head. I didn’t!”
“You went heavy on the bangs,” Drea observed, and ignoringSloan’s snarl, considered. “I like that part. It’s a good look. The rest’s a disaster, but the bangs work. Once they’re evened up a little.”
“Drea, third drawer, my side of the bathroom vanity. Get the kit I use when I cut your father’s hair, and a towel. Did you forget I cut your father’s hair, and have actual tools for it?”
Miserably, Sloan stared at the sheared-off hank of hair. “Yes.”
“So I can fix it, and if I can’t fix it good enough, we’ll call Aileen. She’s been doing my hair for, lord, fifteen years. Come on, come sit in the kitchen. Cut it dry, with kitchen scissors, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
She felt like an idiot. Shehadbeen an idiot. The tears she couldn’t stop added to it.
“I was so angry and upset. I had to tell my captain what happened. I thought maybe I could do some remote work. Just background checks and that sort of thing. Something. But he said… basically, it was ‘See you next year.’”
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