Page 5 of Then Came You

She lowers her lashes and smiles contentedly. For the second time today, she walks away from me, and I can’t say I like it at all. It’s not often, if ever, that I connect with a beautiful woman.

When she turns the corner, I take a picture of the card and send it to my email, just in case I’m the unluckiest bastard in the world and happen to lose my mobile and wallet, where I’ll safely stow it away.

In a job like mine, where I’m surrounded by so much sickness and death, I take every opportunity I can to feel joy. And that’s what Row is for me today - a little slice of unexpected heaven.

I know I’m late to my morning meeting, but I can’t seem to muster enough care. I’m confident that my exceptional team can start without me while they hash out the finer details for our two biggest events - the World’s Greatest Shave Gala and Light the Night walk.

It’s not by coincidence that I fell into this role. My Mum died of Acute Myeloid Leukaemia 28 years ago when I was just 15, and ever since then, I’ve dedicated my life to research and fundraising. You’d think after all these years that the pain would have subsided, but it still pierces the very depths of my heart to this day.

She longed to have a daughter, but as she’d so eloquently say, “she ended up with two smelly boys and one stinky husband.” Despite whining about how she was always outnumbered, we knew we were her life. If she wasn’t making us watch all her girly movies like Girls Just Want to Have Fun or Beaches, she was running amok amongst our neighbours.

There was this one time the crazy man across the road called my brother and me the devil’s spawn and accused us of stealing his cat, so what did Mum do? In the dead of night, she bought hundreds of plastic forks and stuck them in the shape of a satanic symbol in his front yard. The next morning, he held a witch hunt in our street, vowing to find out who did this. Of course, Mum was the portrait of innocence and lied sweetly through her teeth. There was no way sweet Alexi, loving mother, and wife, could ever do such a thing.

Until her last breath, Mum was sunshine personified. Dad, Alex, and I were all by her bedside when she passed. She left the world with a smile on her face, not in the slightest angry that these were the shitty cards she got dealt way too soon in life.

The warmth I feel when I think about my Mum is like being wrapped up in a cosy blanket on a chilly winter’s evening. I’d felt the absence of that warmth for longer than I cared to admit with my ex-wife, but I think I found it again today when Row found her way into my orbit. She has the same bright smile and comfort that Mum had, and I get the feeling that just like Mum, she’s the type of person that no matter what, would always put others before herself.

Chapter 3

Row

"Xander, what are you doing here?"

My best friend struts over to where I’m finishing applying a client’s root stretch. "Can’t I visit one of my two favourite girls?"

I nod enthusiastically. It has been forever. "Of course, you can. I just know you're super busy with classes and helping your Mum renovate."

Xander plops himself in the chair beside my client and starts swinging from side to side. "I feel like it has been weeks since we hung out, so I skipped my Genetics and Genomics class. Figured it’s easier to catch you here to see if you needed anything."

"Xan. No. You can’t. What if you miss a lesson and kill someone?" I argue, dropping my tint brush in my mixing bowl and removing the disposable latex gloves. He wants to specialise in Oncology.

"Row, it’s a couple of classes." I give him a disappointed look. He sighs and gets up so his eyes are level with mine. "Okay. Stop. Row, I swear I’m not going to fail." He places his hands on my shoulders, pulling me to his chest to envelope me in his strong embrace. I automatically exhale the breath I didn’t realise I was holding.

Unlike me, Xan is eventually going to be able to treat and heal the sick and injured.

I had dreams of becoming a medical scientist, but the reality of my life had other plans. The closest I’ve ever come to a medical textbook was when I met Xander at the library while I was studying for my hairdressing apprenticeship.

There was one seat left in the quiet study room, and he asked if he could sit down. I was frazzled from missing a mandatory class because of a train strike, further humiliated at the fact that I was sporting a pair of holey tights. It would have been a romantic little meet-cute but there were zero feelings between us. In fact, he’s sort of obsessed with our other friend Cindy, who I met through him.

Xan has been the mate I always felt was missing. He’s funny and kind, and generous to a fault. We were an odd pairing as far as study buddies went, but it worked. I loved helping him ace his course, while I meandered mundanely through mine, which was as far from riveting as you could get.

“I wish I could trade places with you.”

“I should just ask my dad if he can put you through the scholarship program at his work.”

I groan and cover my face with my hands. "Xander, I can’t ask that of you. It just doesn’t feel right, you know? I have a sweet thing going here for the time being,” I say, walking toward the back of the salon to the small employee area. I hear Xander pace after me, hot on my heels. "I just need to earn a little more. Maybe I could start doing extra jobs before or after work?" I offer.

Xander blinks up at me. "More work?" He chokes.

I wince at the thought of more hours. "Yeah. Life’s expensive," I shrug before shoving the used hair towels in the washing machine, and punching the buttons to start a cycle.

I wish I didn’t have to work as hard just to make ends meet, but I’m close to being homeless if I don’t find a solution soon.

As much as I wanted to go to uni, I needed to earn a living, so I opted to do an apprenticeship. My placement was nowhere near home, but I loved my boss and mentor, Trish, and I was quite handy with a pair of scissors, could do intricate braids in less than ten minutes, and I knew my way around dyes, so as far as jobs went, I could have landed worse.

My stomach grumbles allowing me to change the topic. "I have 30 minutes before my next client. Want some two-minute noodles?" My offer isn’t enticing in the slightest but Xander’s too much of a nice guy to let me know the expired budget meal isn’t up his alley.

"Absolutely, but I’m pouring the water this time. You never add enough. I might as well be eating them raw." He moves past me to flick the kettle on.

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