Page 42 of The Sound Of Us

Harold scrunches my curls in his palm. “I’d hate to cut off these beautiful curls, son.”

“It’s just hair, Harry. It’ll grow back.”

“Why cut it if it’s just gonna grow back?”

Honestly, I don’t have an answer. But this is the only way to make amends for what I did. I need to renew my devotion to my marriage and hope that no one ever finds out about what I did over there on Eli Saxon’s property.

“Last chance, Axel.”

“Cut it, Harry.” Cut off my curls that Frank hates so much. Cut them because Eli Saxon said they were beautiful and the last time a man told me I was beautiful, I married him and then he changed. Cut them because Eli Saxon touched them with a kind of tenderness that terrifies me.

“Do you want to keep them?” Harold asks thirty minutes later.

“Yes.” I want to keep my curls. Harry places a plastic bag on my lap and begins to dust off my neck and shoulders. Yes. I’ll take my hair home and every time I feel like I’m going to die of cancer, I’ll take out this plastic bag and remember that one upon a time, I used to be healthy, with thick, luscious golden curls.

“You’re still a gorgeous boy,” Harold says, smiling at me in the mirror. Famous last words by your barber. Harold has ended every haircut I’ve ever had with those words.

I stare at the mirror, studying my soldier-style haircut. I look like I did when I was on treatment. I look like a cancer patient. We can’t tell if it will work, but we’ll try, the doctor had said the last time. But we can’t guarantee it won’t come back.

At eighteen, being told that if the cancer comes back, I will die, is the best way to marry and remain devoted to the person who held your hand while you were given a provisional death sentence.

You’ll get through it, Frank had said. And I did, didn’t I? I’ve been well for nearly ten years. And Frank stayed with me the whole time. So what if he got a little angry sometimes? Everyone is entitled to a few bad days. And besides, if Frank stayed with me through sickness and health, the very least I could do was love and cherish him.

Frank likes my hair like this. I should have had it cut when he told me the first time.

Frank will be happy.

It’s my duty to do what makes my husband happy.

***

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Ben slams a stack of paperbacks onto the counter when I walk in.

Ben is like a big mother hen, clucking and fluttering and checking everything.

“You said you’re never cutting your hair again,” he says.

“Hey, be nice to the books,” I say lightly, hoping to distract him from starting a conversation that always ends badly.

“I have some money saved up,” he says. He rounds the counter and inspects me. “He hit you again, didn’t he?”

I try to squirm out of his grasp, but it’s no use.

“What’s this?” He grabs my hand and pulls up my sleeve.

“Nothing.” I pull my hand away.

“What’s nothing, Axel?” He jerks my hand back. “When did this happen?”

I sigh. This bruise isn’t from Frank. I’d genuinely hurt myself while chopping wood. It just hasn’t healed. But even if Frank had hit me, I’d have deserved it because I’m a cheater.

“Take my savings. It’s enough to start over. It’ll be a pitiful start, but at least you’ll be free. I can’t believe he made you cut your hair again. Does that man just not get it?”

“Stop it, Ben,” I say softly. I appreciate his concern. His anger, even. “It’s not that simple, you know that.”

Ben plants his hands on his hips. “I’ll come with you. If you get sick again, I’ll help you. I’ll take care of you.” And then, with a drag of his hand down his face, he says, “What is there for you here, Axel? Just go. Be free enough to let your hair grow if that’s what you want. Be happy.”

I know what he means. Be happy while there’s still time. But I’m not… unhappy, right? Maybe I’m not filled with joy for my life, but at least I’m not dead or something. I’m just… nothing.

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