Page 49 of Summer Ever After
“I’m here Jessie.” Faye padded out from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head.
Jessica rushed into the staff house. “Good. Is that ticket still available? You mentioned that the person who needed it backed out.”
“It is on my desk.” Mrs. Graham glanced at me.
Jessica rushed past both of us and into Mrs. Graham’s office, returning with the envelope in her hand. “I’ve just been told that I have to bring a date. There can’t be any empty seats at this stupid thing.” She rolled her eyes. “Why can’t they just hire some seat fillers?”
“Who are you going to bring?” I asked.
“I hope it isn’t someone whose name starts with a J and rhymes with Asper.” Mrs. Graham wasn’t quiet about her opinion, although I was thinking the same thing.
Jessica dragged the envelope over the fingers of her free hand and looked to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I’m sure I can find someone.” Her eyes widened. “Rosie. You. You should be my date.”
I laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?” Jessica pulled out a chair and took a bite of a piece of bacon. “You’re the most interesting person I know, and I don’t think that you’re going to try to sleep with me at the end of the night. Or are you?” She pumped her eyebrows at me.
“You’re beautiful, but you’re not my type.” I peeled another section of croissant and popped it into my mouth. “I would love to be your date, but if it’s escaped your mind, I’m going to be the one clearing the plates, not eating off them.”
“Right.” Jessica inhaled. “I did forget about that. Could you just blow it off?”
I cut my eyes to the bathroom door, where a hair dryer droned. “My boss gave me the afternoon off to paddle a canoe, I don’t think that she’s going to give me the night off when they’re already short-staffed. I’m also short one ball gown.”
“They’re short-staffed?” Jessica’s forehead knitted. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“Yes. They pulled in a few of the cottage keepers to help out with the caterers.” I ran my hand through my hair and Jessica’s gaze followed my hand.
“Your braids! I knew there was something different about you. Rosie. They were so pretty, why would you cut them off?”
“One got caught in something and I had to cut it off. I had to cut the other side to match.” I ran my hand self-consciously over my hair, my fingertips rubbing the rough ends. “I was going to try and clean it up a bit this morning.”
“Do you want some help?” Jessica asked. “I’ve got a stylist coming this afternoon.”
“Do you think a stylist can help this mess?” I dragged both of my hands up into my hair, so it was standing straight up.
“My stylist can do anything,” Jessica smiled.
“I was thinking about shaving it,” I shrugged. “Start from scratch.”
Jessica tilted her head. “I can see it. You’ve got such beautiful eyes, I bet it would look amazing.”
Mrs. Graham came out of the bathroom, her hair in pink rollers. “Faye. Is there a set of clippers in the bathroom?” Jessica asked.
“Yes. Why?” she pulled her white apron on over her clothes and shrugged into her fisherman’s jacket.
“We’re going to shave Rosie’s head.”
“Is that okay?” I asked. The idea of cutting off my hair suddenly felt liberating. The jagged edges that hung next to my eyes were there because of Christina. Shaving my hair would be my choice, and next to the superficiality of my stepmom, the idea of cutting off something that she saw as so valuable, felt powerful.
“Of course,” Mrs. Graham smiled. “I think short hair will look good on you. You’ve got the bone structure for it.”
Jessica had already finished her piece of bacon and was in the bathroom washing her hands. “Come on, Rosie. Sinead O’Connor wasn’t the only woman who could rock this look.” She held up the clippers and turned them on, the buzzing drawing me to the bathroom.
“It’s too bad you can’t come to the ball.” Jessica bit her lip as she took the clippers to my hair. “We’ll have to hang out some more this summer.”
“I would love that,” I spoke to Jessica’s reflection in the mirror. Her hands worked quickly and clumps of my brown hair dropped into the waste basket. When she was finished, she gripped my shoulders and looked at me in the mirror. “Beautiful.”
The girl in the mirror looking back at me looked free. And beautiful. I ran my hand over my head. “It feels good.”
