Unrequited

Chapter 8

As I pushed the sleek glass door of JUICE, a summer-y smell tickled my nostrils. It was a fresh smell of lemons and... watermelon?

A sweet lady, approximately in her mid- thirties greeted me with a pleasant smile. Since it was only Friday afternoon, no customers crowded the salon.

The lady introduced herself as Jasmine and escorted to a professional she had assigned to me. A tall young man, with a boyish charm welcomed me warmly. He had an angular face, sharp and chiselled.

Had he been anymore beefy, he would have lost his chance at modelling. But he was the ideal size and shape for it.

Sometimes to make and preserve a good first impression, one should not open their mouths. As soon as he spoke, the whole model-like-good-looks and fit-to-be-ramp-walker impression I had developed of him went down the drain.

He had an annoying Haryanvi accent, coupled with a shrill high pitch voice, suited for a girl. I controlled the itch to roll and re-roll my eyes.

However, he worked professionally. His swift hands measured and contemplated my shoulder length hair and its quality. He nodded his head in admiration and confirmed, loud enough for the rest of the staff to hear, that I had thick hair.

The ladies present nodded, smiles scotch- taped to their faces. When he asked me what I wanted, I flashed the picture of the cut I had selected. It was a smart short-back-haired-long-front-haired pixie cut. In the photo it spiked around in all directions and I pointed out that that was how I wanted it.

Mr. Haryana did a double-take. His eyes had gone round. The other bobble headed ladies stood aghast.

"So short? Why you want so small hair? Achha hair you have, don't cut it"

Arre! can't you do what you've been told to, you asshat. Kira rebuked from inside my head.

"I really want this one, just going for a makeover you know. Please do this one?" I coated my voice with sugar and maple syrup. He shook his head in disbelief but complyingly picked up his tools.

He artfully went around my head. Ducking in on the right and emerging on the left. The sisccors dangerously went snip, ssssnnniiipppp, snipp.

I felt his finger deftly mover around the top adjusting and readjusting my head like I was a bendable toy.

The strong cologne that he had worn wafted in the air around me. My nostrils flared and hurt as my lungs inhaled the toxic cheap perfume.

I could hear his feet shuffle from front to back, from left to right. I had my eyes shut tight, as Kira and I argued back and forth.

You schmuck, couldn't you think before you took this rash decision?

But it's not rash. It' s called putting pedal to the metal.

*mimics me in a comical voice* putting pedal we we we. Useless!

What if it doesn't turn out like the image? What if you hate it? It's not like you can grow hair over night!

I think I'm going to like it!

If it gets messed up then don't come crying back to me! Humph!

We'll see.

"Ma'am, done"

I think I had jammed my eyes shut too tightly because when I opened them, for full one minute all I could see were swirling colours and stars popping.

When my hazy eyesight finally focused onto the face in the mirror, I felt my soul spiral towards heaven in delight. I looked...stunning.... just, beautiful!

My hair stood up in the right directions and at the right places. The front and the back were just the right lengths. It made my face look even more angular and sharp. It gave me a smart look. I covered my mouth with my palms to keep myself from yelping in excitement.

I love it! Absolutely love it!

I told you.

I was so pleased with my decision. I looked up at the man and beamed and he smiled back, satisfied. I paid him and skipped home.