The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S4 E11.2: Perspective

Hazel's POV

When I hear the doorbell ring, Momma gets up from the kitchen table where she was sitting with my other mom.

"I can get it," she says.

I launch up instantly from the living room couch, saying, "No! I'll get it!"

I cut my mother off as I zip past her to get the door. I pull it open so fast that I almost scrape my own foot, but I manage to shift out of the way in time. On the porch, Linny looks up at me and smiles, her hands struggling to hold the three bags of air-dry clay that she has with her. A strap slips from her fingers each time she attempts to grab another.

"Want some help?" I offer.

"I'm fine. I just need to adjust—"

All of a sudden, gravity steals one bag from her entirely, but I lean over, catching the handles before it can hit the porch. Of course, Linny tries to save it herself, causing our hands to collide, and a flitter of butterflies encapsulate me as I lift the bag to carry it myself, Linny's hand letting go, struck limp from the contact.

"Thanks," she says in a voice like a feather.

After another moment, I remember what's supposed to be happening, and I step back inside, glancing over my shoulder to say, "You can come in."

"Oh, right, yeah, thanks."

She enters in, and I close the door behind her. Right away, she notices my moms at the kitchen table and gives them a wave.

"Hi."

"Hi, Linny," Mommy responds. "Did you cut your hair?"

"Only a couple inches, but thanks for noticing."

Obviously, I noticed, but I was nervous to bring it up earlier. I still don't know if that would've been considered weird or not. My brain doesn't function too well with her. And that's kinda strange to think about, because it wasn't until the dance when I started thinking of Linny that way, but it's like someone flipped a switch, and suddenly here we are with my burning cheeks and her galaxy blue eyes.

"It looks nice," I tell her.

"You too. I mean, nothing changed, but you're still..." she takes a breath, clearly lost on her sentence "...nice. I'll bring this to your studio."

She takes the bag from my grip and transports all three down the hall to my mom's art studio. I follow her in and let the door close, sealing our own little bubble of colourful creations that fill the space. Linny carefully sets the bags on the floor and is immediately drawn in by the sculpture my mom is currently in the process of making. It's a large circle made of coloured silverware, with holes spying through it in several spots.

"Woah," Linny breathes. "This is glorious. And the colours are iridescent."

"My mom's working on that," I explain. "I'm still trying to figure out what it's going to be."

"Mayhap it's not intended to be anything, but it's for your imagination to decide."

"Well, currently, my imagination sees a spaghetti strainer."

Linny gives me a curious look as a smile breaks through her lips, and she says, "That's not what I was seeing, but it's certainly a creative perspective."

"What were you seeing?"

"I see..." she pauses to ponder it "...a radiant sun, spread through a galaxy, warped by the energy of the outer space."

"That's...better than a spaghetti strainer."

She glances over at me, making her blonde hair bend and fold over her shoulder like cattails pushed by a river, responding, "Better is an undefinable adjective we attempt to define by assigning it, but really better only exists in our own individual eyes. It's not actually real. The word itself is fairly meaningless."