Read My Lips: Restricted Version

RML: Chapter 13 (R)

Chapter 13

‘Well?  What do you think?’

Lucy blinked rapidly as she stared at Amber, who gripped the armrests of the salon chair with her back to the mirror, too scared to look at herself.  Lucy glanced between Amber and Amber’s reflection, studying the back of her new, dramatic hairstyle.

‘Oh, no!  You hate it!’

Lucy finally smiled.  ‘No...actually I was wondering how I would look with my hair that short.’

Amber turned in the chair and looked in the large mirror for the first time.  She suddenly got a little dizzy...and not from the abrupt change in her appearance.  With most of her hair gone, her head felt ten pounds lighter and awkwardly unbalanced.  The woman who stared back at her was not the girl she’d been looking at her entire life.  And Amber smiled at herself.  Greta, the stylist at a hair salon in the closest shopping mall, did a fantastic job, changing the color to a rich caramel color, artfully highlighted around her face, and chopping the length to a layered bob which tickled her chin when she moved.

She loved it.  She looked her age.  She looked mature.  She looked sassy, and she felt like she could finally take on the world.  Take that, precious Macie!

‘Tell me the truth,’ she signed to Lucy.  ‘What do you think?’

Lucy gave Amber a heartfelt grin.  “I’m thinking that you look fabulous, and every man within a ten mile radius needs to look out...and I’m thinking that Greta is an absolute genius with those scissors and I’ve been wearing the same style since high school.”

Greta, a cheerful girl with spiky yellow hair -- yellow, not blond -- rolled her eyes and grinned back at the two friends.  “Ya’ll are sweet,” she said in a Georgian accent, belying her funky facade.  “Amber, here, has the perfect face for this style, and she’s got just enough curl to mousse it up for that messy, the-morning-after-great-sex look.”

Amber’s eyes grew wide as she watched her face turn bright red.  Lucy laughed.  Greta, on the other hand, turned to Lucy and said, “But you...oh, I could have some fun with you.  With a darker color...you could be Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina.”  Greta tilted Lucy’s face from side to side, scrutinizing the astonished woman.

“Wasn’t that the one where she cut it all off?”  Lucy’s eyes rounded out in terror.

“Pixie short,” Greta said.  “Very few women can pull that off...you can.  Good bone structure.”

Lucy backed away from Greta.  “Oh, I don’t know...”

Greta pursed her lips in deep thought.  “Well...we can do our snapshot program on you, and you can see what it will look like.  No pressure.”

Greta ushered Lucy to a desk with a computer on it, took Lucy’s photo with a web cam, and clicked away on the keyboard.  Amber got up from the chair and moved closer to look at what was going on.  In a few seconds, Lucy’s face popped up on the screen, and Greta clicked on a hairstyle from a list...and there was Lucy, with boy-short hair, and she looked beautiful.  Amber told her so, fanning her hand over her face with the sign for beautiful.  Lucy chewed on her lip as she considered the drastic change.  Not wanting to peer-pressure Lucy into something she might regret, Amber went back to the mirror to allow her to make up her own mind.  

Her new, improved reflection filled her vision.  Losing herself in how different she now looked, Amber fluffed her fingers through the wavy layers, watching how they moved so individually than before.  Like each strand of hair had its own independent motion, and Amber loved that.  She loved the color, and she loved how the curls were profusely more coiled without all that weight.

What would Linc think now?  Would he look at her and still see Macie?

Then she thought, Why do I care?  All she should really care about was what she thought about it.  And Amber Hayes thought that her hair was wonderful.  So light and free...just like she was going to be from now on.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lucy sit down in a salon chair and get wrapped up in the vinyl body cover with Greta standing behind her.  Lucy slapped her palms over her face, and Amber smiled because she was probably squealing at what she’d decided to do.  Greta held up a pair of scissors, pulled Lucy’s long brown hair into a low pony tail, and whacked it off just at the neckline.  Amber’s eyes grew big.  Oh, my...that’s short.

Lucy peeked through her fingers.  “Is it over?” she asked.  Greta held up Lucy’s brown hair in her fist.  Lucy let out a slow, steady breath.

‘Are you going for Audrey Hepburn?’ Amber signed to Lucy.  

‘Yes,’ Lucy signed slowly in return.

‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s too late now.’

Greta, though she didn’t know sign language, smiled at them as she understood exactly what they were saying.  “I promise you, you’ll love it,” she said to Lucy through the mirror.  “If you don’t then I won’t charge you.”

“I trust you,” Lucy said weakly, swallowing and staring at the hair still in Greta’s hands.

Greta asked, “Would you like me to donate it along with Amber’s?  Your hair is thick and healthy, so it’s perfect for Locks of Love.”

“Yes, donate it,” Lucy said.  Greta pulled out a gallon-sized baggie from a drawer and stuffed Lucy’s cut hair in it.  She set it on the shelf behind her where Amber’s twenty inches of dark-brown locks filled three other bags.  Amber pulled a stool over to sit and watch as Greta performed her magic.  Thinking about Linc made her wonder what ever happened with that Brian guy from the deli.  She decided to ask if Lucy was ever going to do something about that.

‘Did you call him?’

‘Call who?’

‘You know who,’ Amber signed, laughing inside.  ‘You didn’t, did you?’

A pathetic look came over Lucy’s face.  ‘It’s embarrassing.  I don’t know if I can.’

‘Why is it embarrassing?  He wants you to call him.’

Lucy puffed out a breath as she kept her eyes on Greta through the mirror.  ‘I’m not brave like you, Amber.  I can’t just call up a man and ask him out.’

Amber wrinkled her forehead.  ‘Why not?  You’re single and a modern woman.’

For a while, Lucy didn’t answer, and Amber thought that maybe she pushed her friend too far...made her feel uncomfortable about Brian, of which she was already uncomfortable.  Just as Amber was about to apologize for stepping over the line, Lucy started explaining.  

‘My dad left my mom when I was little, did I ever tell you that?’

‘No.’

‘He did,’ she signed as she nodded.  ‘At least, that was what I was always told.  But then recently, I found out that it didn’t happen like that at all.  Dad never left.  Mom shoved him away.  She took me away from my father, and though I had a relatively happy childhood and I grew up in a loving home, I always assumed my real father never wanted me.  And that made me think that all men were like that.  I always played it safe.  With dating...with school...even with getting a job as Jimmie’s goon.  Now, I know I was programmed that way.  Mom...she never encouraged me to play sports or be in the band, or anything that might get me noticed.  She was great -- don’t get me wrong -- she wanted me to have good grades and do well in everything, but she never encouraged me to excel in anything.  She didn’t want my dad to find us.  She didn’t want him to pick up the paper one day and see me holding up a trophy or getting an award, and finding out where we lived.  She changed both our names, and I never knew.’

‘So, how did you find out?’

Greta placed her hands on Lucy’s shoulders.  “Lucy, hon, you’re gonna have to keep your hands still now. I’m getting to the nitty-gritty, and I don’t want to mess you up.”

“Sorry,” Lucy said to Greta, and turned her gaze on Amber.  “I’ll tell you later.”

‘Okay.’

Amber sat back and let Greta do her job, and Lucy’s face blanked out as her thoughts turned inward for the remainder of the haircut.  The snippets of brown hair fell in piles to the floor, coating the gray linoleum under Greta’s feet.  Amber watched with amazement as her friend was transformed in front of her eyes.  Snip by snip by strand...gone was the sweet, girl-next-door mask that Lucy had wore her entire life.  Just like Amber’s had been trimmed away.  In that black salon chair, a sassy, take-charge woman with fire growing in her solemn eyes.  Lucy began to come back into the here-and-now as Greta combed and cut and reshaped the shy secretary.

Wow...Amber felt a grin bloom on her lips.  Lucy blinked at her reflection.  She looked over at Amber and grinned back.   Look out world...these girls ain’t taking any more crap.

On the way back to Amber’s apartment, Lucy suddenly made a detour and headed through the gates of a cemetery.  “Sorry,” Lucy signed and said as she slowly pulled around to park in the shade of a massive oak.  “Do you mind if I go pay my respects to Macie?” she asked.  “I’ll be quick.”

Amber glanced around.  Old, weather-worn headstones, pillars, statues and crypts of every shape and size dotted the expansive yard and gardens.   Now, that she thought about it, she’d never been in a cemetery before.  Both sets of her grandparents were still living, and if her parents ever went to a funeral, Amber didn’t know the person well enough to tag along.  The irony of visiting Macie’s grave as her first venture into a cemetery made her stop and think.  Was this fate?  Something pulled at her to go with Lucy...she wanted to see Macie, too.

“Can I come?” she asked, unbuckling her seat belt.

Lucy eyed her curiously.  “Yeah...are you sure you want to?”

“Yes,” she affirmed and crawled out of Lucy’s Prius.  They walked along a paved path for a ways until Lucy put an hand on Amber’s arm.

'Hang on,' she signed quietly, peeking around a rather large gravestone.  'Someone is already there.'

Amber leaned around to look, too, and she saw that someone crouched down in front of a gleaming granite maker with the words, Marcella Louise Serrano, Beloved Daughter, Loved And Cherished.  He was hunkered down on his heels, leaning his back against a tree with his arms dangling between his bent knees and a bundle of pure white roses clasped in his hands.  She didn’t have to see his face to know it was Linc.  His jeans were worn and faded, ragged along the hems.  His snakeskin boots were caked with more of that manure-mud mixture, and his black stetson had more hay sticking out of the hat band.  

Amber quickly stepped back, not wanting to be seen by him.  He raised his head at that moment, but he didn’t look in their direction.  He didn’t look in any direction.  He stared off into space, the sun lighting up whatever caught his attention.  But after a moment, Amber realized he wasn’t really looking at anything.  He was just there.  She could probably walk right up to him and touch the whiskers dotting his jaw, and he wouldn’t even notice.

‘What’s he doing?’

Lucy gave her a sad smile.  ‘He’s listening to her.’

Amber frowned.  ‘To whom?’

‘Macie.’

Amber peeked at Linc again.  ‘Does he do this often?’

Lucy sighed visibly.  ‘Only when he’s not drunk off his rear end.  That’s usually how he comes to visit Macie.’  

‘What do we do now?’

Her friend pursed her lips.  ‘I don’t want to interrupt him.  Maybe I should just come back later.’

Amber glanced at Linc one last time.  She could see his eyes now, and her breath caught.  There was a hollowness in the brown depths...a misery she couldn’t explain.  This man was in pain.  More pain than should be allowed from any human to feel.  He must have loved Macie very much.  He must miss her so much he’d....

Amber sighed woefully.  So much he’d kiss the one woman who supposedly looked like her, just to physically feel that love again.

Oh, Linc, she thought, her heart breaking for him.  How could she hate him after seeing him this way?  How could she blame him for pretending she was Macie...even for the brief moments of a shared kiss?  The pull she felt earlier in Lucy’s car wasn’t Macie’s grave.  It was coming from Linc.  She felt it now.  She yearned to walk up to him, wrap her arms around him and hold him.  She couldn’t understand the feeling.  She couldn’t explain it, but it was there, and it was strong.  So strong, she almost took a step toward him.  

But she didn’t.  She followed Lucy back to the car, and they drove to Amber’s apartment.  Amber sat in her seat, quieter than usual, and Lucy noticed.  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked with her hands.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.  I just didn’t realize...’

‘That he loved her that much?  To sit there like that for hours?’

‘Hours?’ Amber inquired, hardly able to believe it.  

Lucy smiled.  ‘Just be thankful he wasn’t drunk.  Then he’s loud and obnoxious, angry and clingy.  He’s been arrested a few times because of it.’

Amber slowly let her seat belt slid across her shoulders.  ‘Do you know him very well?  Besides being Macie’s cousin.’

‘We’ve met a few times.  I was to be her Maid of Honor,’ Lucy explained, her mind drifting back in time.  ‘You should have seen them at their engagement party.  He couldn’t keep his hands off her.  He was by her side every second, touching her, holding her, kissing her...’  Another sad smile graced Lucy’s lips.  She glanced over at Amber.  ‘Oh...dear.  I’m sorry.  That was callous of me.’

‘It’s okay.  I understand.  I don’t think he meant to hurt me.  I don’t think he could have helped it.’

‘So, you’re not mad anymore?’

Amber rolled her eyes.  ‘How can I be?  The poor man is suffering.  So, he kissed me...at least, I could ease his pain for a little while.  However, it won’t happen again.’

Lucy giggled.  ‘You’re a better woman than me.  I’d still be mad.’

Amber pointed at her.  ‘Until you call Brian, you can’t be mad about any kiss, can you?’

‘You’re not going to give up, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Fine,’ she sighed.  ‘I’ll call him tonight, but if he turns out to be a world-class jerk, I’m blaming you.’

‘It’s a deal.’  Amber hopped out of the car and bent down to look at Lucy one last time through the open window.  'I’ll see you at work tomorrow.  You can tell me all about it, and you can finish your story about your dad.’

Lucy didn’t look happy about either prospect, but she gave a resigned look to Amber and signed, ‘Bye.’  Then her eyes shifted to look behind Amber, and a subtle smile twitched the corners of her lips.  “I think there’s someone waiting for you,” she said and waved as she drove away.  

Amber peeked over her shoulder.  Officer Manor shrugged away from the brick wall of her apartment building and smiled shyly at her, though there was some confusion in his eyes as he blinked at her new haircut.  He wasn’t wearing his police uniform, and Amber almost didn’t recognize him.  She self-consciously fingered her hair, but then immediately pulled her hand away and jerked her chin in the air.  

“Hi,” he said and carefully walked over to her.  “I was going to call you, but...”  A deep, rosy color filled up his high cheekbones.  “Um...I didn’t know if you could...uh...”

Amber knew what he meant.  Many times, the hearing didn’t understand that there was amazing technologies out there for the handicapped, included the deaf.  Her apartment phone line had a TTY attached to it, and her cell phone used voice to text when receiving a call from someone else.  And those only tipped the iceberg.  Her television and computers were both equipped with closed and real-time captioning.  Her alarm clock flickered a bedside lamp off and on when it went off in the mornings, and though she couldn’t enjoy music the way others did, she still had a stereo with the speakers laid flat on the floor for her to feel the vibrations.  She loved Bob Marley.

“It okay,” she said with a smile.  “You call...I own special phone.”

“Oh,” he replied, breathing out with relief.  His eyes flew back to her hair.  “I...um, almost didn’t recognize you.  We just met yesterday, and your hair was a lot longer.”

Amber rubbed her palms on her hips.  “I cut it.  You not like?”

“No, no,” he said, hurriedly, his eyes widening with embarrassed alarm.  “I...um...I like it.  It’s...uh, cute.”

He doesn’t like it.

No matter.  Officer Manor didn’t have to like what she did with her hair.  She loved it, and that was all that concerned her.  Amber waited for him to say something else.  They stood on the sidewalk in silence.  He fidgeted, stuffing his hands in his pockets, only to pull them out again.

“Is there something you need?” she finally asked.

“Oh!  Yeah...I, uh...I was, um, wondering if you were busy Wednesday night.”

“Wednesday?  No.”  Amber frowned.  “I work until 5, but that it.”

“Wonderful,” he exclaimed, his mouth opening far wider than necessary in Amber’s opinion, which only meant he was nervous about something, but for the life of her, she didn’t know what.  He was a policeman.  What did he have to be nervous about?

“My church -- St. Paul’s Presbyterian? -- is having a bazaar and carnival all this week...and, um, Wednesday night is their adult-only night...um, no kids...”

No kids?  At a carnival?  That didn’t sound like much fun.  Amber waited for him to finish his explanation.  Did he want her to volunteer for something?

“It’s kind of like a date night for the church members...” he went on, and a light bulb went off in Amber’s head.  Date night?

She grinned.  Was he asking her on a date?  A real date?

“There’s, uh, games and booths and rides and food...and, uh, dancing--”

Amber lost her grin.  “Dancing?”

He stopped to smile fondly at her.  “Yeah, dancing...would you...um, would you like to go with me?  Wednesday night?  Like on a date?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“With you?”  Just to clarify.

He laughed.  “Of course, with me.  That’s what a date usually means.  Two people, a man and a woman, out together, hopefully having a good time.”

Amber smiled at him.  He finally got out a string of words without the uh’s and um’s.  Amber always thought those were annoying.  They cluttered up the speech, making it difficult for her to follow along sometimes.  “I love to,” she said.  “What time?”

“6:30 okay with you?”

“That fine,” she said.  “Where should I meet you?”

He blinked, and his smile faltered.  “I was, um...hoping to pick you up...you know, here...”

“Oh.”  Amber mentally berated herself.  Blunder number one.  Of course, he’d want to pick her up.  That’s what guys did on dates...right?  “Okay.  I be ready.”

“Really?”  He seemed surprised.  Amber giggled.  

“Yes, really.  I see you then, okay?”

He stepped forward as though to hug her, or to touch her, or -- Amber didn’t know what he had in mind, so she watched him carefully.  He put his hands gently on her arms and bent over to place a small kiss on her cheek.  His lips felt cool, and she didn’t get the butterflies in her stomach like when Linc kissed her.  But at least, he knew who she was.

Then a thought occurred to her as he began to walk away.  “Wait!”

Officer Manor turned around, raising his eyebrows in query.

“I sorry,” she called.  “I not know your name.”  The idea that she agreed to a date with a man she didn’t even know the name of made her laugh.  “It silly...I only know your last name.”

He grinned a pleasant grin, and Amber thought he was really cute, but not handsome like Linc.  Stop comparing every man to Linc!

“It’s Caleb,” he called back.

Caleb.  Nice.

“Thank you!”

“No problem, darlin’.”  He walked on down the sidewalk to where his Jeep was parked, and Amber smiled as she let herself into her building.  In the elevator, she froze.  Crap.  

Dancing?  Amber didn’t know how to dance.  Caleb would want to dance, and she’d look like a fool because she couldn’t hear the music to move with the beat.

Inside her apartment, she stopped at her stereo and chewed on her lip.  Well, she had three days to learn, she guessed.  Might as well get started.  She inserted her Bob Marley cd, searched videos on her computer for simple dancing lessons, and began teaching herself to sway to something she couldn’t hear.

Four hours later, Amber gave up.  She was going to need help.