Cindy's Hair

It looked horrible. Nothing Cindy did could help her thin, lifeless hair. Foolishly, she had rushed to the nearest franchised beauty shop the moment she found out that her regular hairdresser was on vacation and wouldn’t be able to work her in until the middle of next month. Besides, Felicity charged nearly three times as much for a cut and style than the franchise, so Cindy’d be saving a ton of money that could be used towards her own vacation in March. She should have known; you get what you pay for.

After the illness a few years ago that had caused her hair to fall out, it was already difficult to accept the new shorter, thinner version of her previously thick and lovely curls. Her hair had done well in the past year refortifying itself but because of the bad thinning job, Cindy looked as if a she had a bad case of trichotillomania; although Cindy had never actually pulled out any of her own hair.

Walking down the street, Cindy didn’t even recognize her own reflection in the store windows. Perhaps there was someone who could help her repair the damage caused from the ignorance of a worthless beautician and an unavoidable illness. Cindy walked into the coffee shop and could feel the stares of the patrons as she ordered her latte. Head bowed and eyes diverted to the rim of her beverage, Cindy opted to continue her stroll down the sidewalk instead of reading the paper and sitting on the comfortable sofa as she had planned. Walking outside the city shops, she could feel the mid-morning sun burning her scalp and decided to duck into the clothing shop for a chance at finding an attractive hat.

            The Jamaican-themed shop wasn’t somewhere Cindy would normally frequent, but as the saying goes, desperate times called for desperate measures. “Mi-lady,” purred a voice out of nowhere. “Welcome to Obeah. I’m Lahira. What can I get for you this fine and lovely spring day?” Startled, Cindy twirled around to see a withered old woman dressed in draping clothing and supported by a walking stick.

            Suddenly and overwhelmingly moved to tell the woman of her circumstances, Cindy gave Lahira details of the events leading up to her demise. “…ten years ago, I was stricken with Alopecia, a condition where the body starts shedding hair because of autoimmunity. I nearly lost all of the hair on my head, but thankfully the condition remedied itself. After months of therapy and nearly a full-head of hair, I’d decided it was time for a haircut. I chose the wrong person for the job, though and something needs to happen immediately before all of the progress I have made is destroyed.” With Cindy nearly in tears, the older woman put her arms around her and led her to a soft seat.

            “There, there, chil’.  Lahira knew how you must a’ feelin’. Mi knows what you be needin’.”  With that said, Lahira scampered to a room in the back of the shop while Cindy was left to gather her thoughts on the divan. Gazing around the overly decorated interior of the shop, Cindy wondered what had caused her to open up to this total stranger. Normally, she was very sheltered in her personal life, but for reasons beyond understanding, Cindy felt a sense of belonging here. She was drawn to the comforting gaze of the older woman. She felt at ease.

            Just then, Lahira returned from behind the beaded curtain separating her personal area from the shop. “Mi wants you to think of the deepest desire for your heart. You knows what you need to do.”  As Cindy contemplated what the woman meant, anger began to fill her heart. She began to feel more hatred than she felt ever before.  What right did that hairdresser have to ruin her hair? The idiot, standing there with her thick, long tresses deserved to know what it was like to be tormented by a botched haircut. The terror, the humiliation, the apprehension she felt since losing her hair all seemed unbearable. Cindy knew the desire of her heart and left the shop certain of her redemption.

            Throughout the rest of the day, Cindy began to feel more like herself. She went home and tied a kerchief around her head as her grandmother used to do. Deciding to keep her chin up, Cindy started working in the garden, a pastime that always seemed to relax her. The day flew by and exhaustion finally overtook her. As she lie in her bed that evening, the events of the day replayed in her head until she fell into a fitful sleep.

            Awakening from her slumber, Cindy looked around and didn’t recognize her surroundings. The room in which she was standing wasn’t the one in which she had lain down. The overstuffed duvet in vibrant colors and ornate window coverings tore at her senses. Disoriented, she began walking to the door only to be distracted by the reflection in the mirror. Standing there before her in the mirror image was the hairdresser with thin lifeless hair instead of long, healthy tresses. Gazing at the unlikely manifestation in the mirror, Cindy began to tear at her hair until her scalp began to bleed. As she was carried from the house to the waiting ambulance, Cindy glanced to the curb and saw herself smiling and waving with long, healthy hair.

 

 

 

Reviews

[THERISA]

Interesting twist on the old saying, "be careful of what you wish for." Didn't expect Cindy to switch places with the hair stylist at the end of the short story. Were you show the inner soul of Cindy being petty, thus her reward at the end? Thank you for sharing this interesting short story with us.

Therisa

[Codie]

Wow, that's a somewhat scary ending. I guess it just goes to show that one should never become too attached to something material. Good writing, and creepy (but good) plot. It's a little unclear at times, and I'm not sure there was much signifigance with the Jamaican shop.
Nice work, and write more, please! I'd like to read other writing of yours.