INDIGO

PART THREE

A few more weeks had gone by in a flash, each with special moments of Indigo and I hanging out in the same alleyway when I brought food and hygiene things from my bathroom. Teaching him how to brush his teeth was the most tedious. He kept shoving me away when I brushed his gums and biting down on the toothbrush. He threw up maybe three times in the process... but it was easy to teach him things, because he trusted me quickly and definitely tried his best even if he didn't understand.

The day had come when I was reminded of the horrid existence of a thing called a "hairbrush". To this day, it's still his worst nemesis. I must have broken five hairbrushes trying to get through that matted hair of his. Eventually, I decided to end his torture and give up on trying to detangle it. I felt too bad when he cried and whimpered even when I tried my best to be gentle! I thought of a plan to cut it off. Giving him a haircut would probably be a good idea anyway.

I brought my scissors and greeted him in my usual way by patting his head and offering snacks. When I pulled the scissors out, he immediately reverted to the self he was when we first met. His eyes sunk, sweat dripped, and he shook, backing away by what seemed like instinct. He was afraid. I fixated on his scars, noticing how thin and straight they were, realizing they had probably been inflicted by a sharp object like the one I was holding.

I set the scissors down in front of me, and held my hands up. I pulled out a granola bar and brought it out to him in order to lead him closer. He inched towards me, his uneasiness fading as he seemed to remember that we were friends. I couldn't communicate with him through speech, so I had to communicate with the way I acted. When he settled down in front of me and ate the granola bar, I reached up and touched his hair. I very carefully held the scissors and very slowly brought them to the strand I was holding. He fearfully pulled away when I snipped off a piece.

"Do you wanna do it yourself?" I spoke to him in a soft tone. I held his hand and laid the scissors into his palm. I imitated the action of cutting, trying to show him what to do. After a few seconds of watching and processing, Indigo lifted the scissors and tried to swipe at his hair, not knowing how you're supposed to cut. I reached up and fixed his grip on the scissors, then pulled the two handles open and closed repeatedly until he started doing it himself. I imitated the action again with invisible hair on myself, and he started to get it!

He snipped off hair slowly, but struggled trying to see where to cut. I got an idea and rummaged through my backpack, pulling out my tablet which Indigo had been entranced by the first time I showed it to him. I opened the camera app and put it in selfie mode, holding it in front of him so he could see himself. He stared for a moment, moving around and waving his hands at the camera. It was pretty funny, so I pressed record as he played with his "reflection" on the screen. Eventually, he started to fixate on his face, which caused his expression to turn from excitement and interest to sadness. I set the tablet down and imitated the cutting action again, reminding him what he was supposed to be doing.

He found the camera to be helpful and stuck out his tongue as he tried his best to carefully cut his hair. He kept looking up at my head, making me realize he was trying to make his hair look like mine. He took snack breaks every ten minutes when his arms would get tired, but it didn't take long to get through all his hair since it was rather thin. We both gawked at the final product, though it was freakishly messy and choppy and uneven. I felt a sort of pride, like my little brother had just achieved something great.

Even if he had gotten a sick new hairdo, his hair was still really dirty but a little less visibly tangled. The next visit, I brought my shampoo and several water bottles and my extra comb to try and get his hair in tip top shape. I decided to take him into a grassy area so the water wouldn't make a puddle on the concrete of his home alley. I poured a whole bottle of water on his hair, having him lean forward so the water wouldn't run down his body. Then I poured some soap on his head and scrubbed like there was no tomorrow!

I was expecting him to freak out at this or pull away or wince, but it seemed like he enjoyed it. I couldn't run my fingers through his hair at first, but as I kept scrubbing and parting it, it started to loosen and it was as easy as my own hair to comb through. When I rinsed off the soap, the water came out brown and mucky. Looking back up at his now clean hair, I'm pretty sure I audibly gasped.

His hair was super light, being a really pretty strawberry blonde that looked pink in the shade of the tree we stood by. I admired the color as I combed through his hair, before wringing it to get the water out. I thought to myself that I should have brought a towel, but at the same time I liked how shiny it looked wet. After I let go and went to put away the bottles, I saw him pull a strand of his bangs down and sniff it! He must have liked the smell of my shampoo.

We walked back at a brisk pace; we arrived just in time before it started to drizzle. I texted my grandma with my tablet, saying I was at a park and was gonna wait out the rain before riding back. She replied with a thumbs up, which I thought was pretty funny. Indigo was fascinated by the typing and tried to tap my screen a few times, which was as cute as it was annoying, haha. Eventually the drizzling eased and I said my goodbyes, patting Indigo's moist head of fresh hair and hopping on my bike.