Mine

Chapter 8

Frank liked watching the Early Morning Show. A perky hostess with too much hair and huge beaver teeth smiled for the camera. I had no idea what she and her guest were talking about but they were having a good time. Her guest wore jeans and an untucked plaid shirt which hung down with intentional casualness. Actor?

Their voices washed past me as my mind churned with possibilities. I liked this whole concept of confidential. However, was this not also the same kind of person who could order me locked up? I would have to proceed with caution. After I felt out the therapist and determined if he could indeed have me put away with the crazy people, then I would decide if I could risk discussing my problem. Problems if I decided to include my lack of memory about the last few years.
I stared through my stupid long hair without seeing the television screen. My vision focused on the long brown strands in my way. Those had to go. How in the world did I get away with growing my hair out? Dad hated long hair on guys unless they worked undercover. Even then he would argue for facial hair instead of letting their hair grow too long. The only reason I could think of to grow it out was to provoke Dad. Growing it out this long? I refused to think about why. More evidence of Ken's obnoxious activities.

"Do you have scissors?"

"What?" Frank pressed the mute button on the television remote. I felt more than saw him turn to me.

"Scissors." I had disposable razors in the bathroom now but shaving my head bald would trade one issue for another. Bald felt less severe than this mess hanging down in my eyes, but not a big improvement.

"Well, I, uh..." He snapped his fingers. When I peered through the hair trying to obscure my vision, I saw a pleased expression. "Yes. Yes I do. Wait here."
He jumped up from the sofa to race for the kitchen. I did as he asked, my gaze traveling back to the woman with too much hair. She would look better with short hair. Maybe a bob.

Soon a pair of scissors dangled in front of my face. I plucked them from his grasp. They seemed a little small but for what I had in mind large scissors would make it difficult. Then I noticed the rounded blunt end. Safety scissors.

With hair hanging in the way, I hoped he would not see how my eyes rolled.

"It's the only pair I own."

Frank sounded too pleased by his statement. I suppressed an urge to shout 'bullshit.' Then again, considering those scars on his wrists, maybe he threw out all of his regular scissors.

Or people who cared about him came to the house and threw out his regular scissors. Which seemed more likely.

"Thanks." I felt his eyes follow me as I left the den. Hopefully he would stay there to watch perky girl and her guest.

After I reached the hall I chanced a glance back. Perky girl had sucked Frank back into the Early Morning Show. Good. I didn't exactly want an audience for this.

Facing myself in the bathroom mirror I had to admit I looked at least twenty. The hair hanging in my face did strike me as popular in Hollywood though I couldn't have named a movie or actor if you put a knife to my throat. No matter, it had to go.

My hair felt silky and smooth when I gathered it in one hand, scissors at the ready in my right. It felt like girl hair. Real men did not have girl hair.

Wow, when did Dad start talking in my head?

With a deep breath I readied the scissors. Open and poised with hair between the blades. One more check in the mirror. Long strands fluttered against my cheeks on either side of my fistful of hair. I pulled it taut until I felt the pinch in my scalp. When I pressed the scissors against hair some strands fell free cut by the pressure. Frank might own safety scissors but they were sharp. With one mighty squeeze a huge hunk came free.