In Aid

32. Plans For The Future

I didn't see it. Sure, Coen and I both had grey eyes and maybe the same skin tone – I wasn't sure – but our hair wasn't quite the same. Mine was more on the reddish side. But then again, Coen had two-toned brown hair that kind of looked reddish in the sun. Did we really look alike?

I was pulled out of my thoughts when the car came to a stop. Sang and I had just left Dr Stanley's office. I'd been going to see him for my mental health. We had spent the time talking about triggers and possible medication if I was up to taking any. I hadn't been at first, but after learning that my anxiety could cause more than just the shakiness, pain, and overwhelming fear that I had experienced on the night I went out and got wasted, I caved.

"Where are we?" I asked, noticing that we weren't at the hotel.

"There is a pharmacy inside this building, but we also need to get your hair done," Sang said.

He had one of those smiles on his face like he already knew I wouldn't like the idea and just wanted to see me in pain. "Why?" I asked.

"Because as someone with curly hair, it breaks my heart to see you continuously wreck yours. And since I am no expert on anything but my own hair, I thought we should get a professional's opinion. Hence..." Sang gestured to the building we were parked in front of.

"Hold up, you have a heart?" I asked, though my eyes were roaming over his long locks.

Sang rolled his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Get out of the vehicle, Little Stray."

I got out and sighed. I didn't really have curly hair. At least I didn't think I did. It was more frizzy, wavy, and chaotic. "I'm not cutting it," I said when Sang came around the car with an umbrella to shield him from the sun.

"Your hair has grown longer since living with us and you consistently fail to take proper care of it. Whatever the professional hairstylist says, you will agree. Would you rather have long, unhealthy hair, or short, healthy hair?"

I scowled. "Let's get this over with."

Sang brought me to the salon and left me in the care of a guy with bright pink hair while he went to fill my prescription.

I knew I hadn't been taking good care of my hair. I did the minimum and whenever I really paid attention to it, I promised myself that I would do something about its state another time. 'Another time' never came. So, when Mr Pink Hair went on and on about everything that was wrong with my hair that needed to be fixed, I wasn't surprised.

I tried not to pay much attention to what he was doing to my hair. I had already told him to do anything necessary to try to fix it. I liked the scalp massage but hated the sound of my hair being cut. When he finished, he recommended a few products which Sang bought for me before we left.

"That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" Sang asked when we got back into the car.

I pulled down the visor and looked into the small mirror. I had actual curls. No frizz. "I don't know how to feel about this. What if this magic wears off and it explodes into frizz again?"

"You always had curly hair, Zedikai. You just kept ruining it with a brush."

I didn't even care that it was shorter. It looked miles better. "Why do you care about my hair anyway?" I asked, flipping the visor back up.

"You need to look presentable for your job interview," Sang said, starting the car and backing out of our parking space.

"Uh... Aubyn said I didn't need to look for a job anymore."

"Because we did that for you," Sang said as we got back on the road. "We weren't going to tell you for a few more days, but now that we have discussed your anxiety, I thought it best I tell you now so that you have ample time to physically and mentally prepare."