Sitting on a high leather chair, I watched as a chunk of hair fall off my head to the floor. Saying goodbye to the hazel brown strands, I also bid goodbye to the life I have previously lived. Not to be too dramatic or anything, what I pertained to as life, I mean the good-ole-jerk- that broke my heart. I was eighteen and undeniably smitten with my boyfriend - James. He was the typical jock, as I thought at first, but then he grew on me. Never minding the flock of girls that tailed behind him, I always reminded myself that he was mine, and I was his. Of course, a year together didn't stop him from giving into his temptations and finally snogging a cheerleader that was present in his sight.
Although he begged for forgiveness, and I was naïve enough to give him a chance, he repeated his actions - that's when I called a truce. So here I was, thoughtful and impulsive, staring at my new hairstyle with my twinkling green eyes. I was dragged by my mother to a beach to spend the last week of summer and I must admit, this is the most productive thing I've done these few months.
My hair hang low just above my shoulders and like all new people who just have had their hair done - I hated how I look. Still, with high hopes, I walked out and began playing through the sand as I made my way to the cottage.
"My goodness," my mother had exclaimed as she saw my newly found hair, "your hair! What did you do to your hair?" A child would think a mother would be supportive at these moments, I guess not. Besides, I didn't exactly expect to get a wow or a honey you're beautiful statement out of her.
Brushing her off, I made my way to my bed. Her gaze was still fixated towards me the entire time and I wasn't relatively new to this kind of reaction. Thankfully, her phone rings and she gets out of sight to answer it.
"Hello?" I hear her whisper and for a few moments she was silent, "Of course I'll be there... seven o'clock sounds wonderful... alright Greg, I'll see you later." Greg. Greg was a guy she met as we settled in the beach earlier this week. I made a mental note to stir clear off of her and Greg's sight at seven o'clock and onwards. Frowning, I realized that I didn't have any plans. It was the last night before our vacation was over, tomorrow we would drive home back to the familiar.
I was out and about even before the clock turned seven. The sand felt warm on my feet and the breeze caressed me as the cold quickly seeped in. I was thinking about James, again. It was inevitable for us to see each other now that school will be on a few days from now. This year... I thought. This year, I won't mope around. This year, I'll start standing on my own feet. It was my last year in high school and I won't let some heartbreak take over my life.
The sun was quickly dying down the sky, painting an orange color all throughout. I had to start now, I thought. I have to do something more productive than cutting my hair; I have to take a bigger risk, I have to take a farther leap. Not knowing where to start, I unconsciously drifted to the beach's outdoor restaurant. Through the glass, I spotted my mom and a bald guy seated just across the door - Greg. The sight made me cringe.
My mother and father have been separated for over five years now. I was constantly with both parties - getting swapped through the days, then days grew into weeks, and then months... until my mom finally settled in with me. My dad, only visiting me on my birthday, travelled around the country. Maybe he was like my mom, or maybe not. I didn't really know.
The bar just by the side of the restaurant looked terribly comforting despite the sappy music and the crowded people. I walked to the bar just where the tender is, and act all-so-coolly. I racked my brain of alcoholic beverages I've heard actors order in movies but then my nerve got the better of me so I decided to settle with a shot. To down the nerves, is all.
"I'll have a tequila shot, please." There was no doubt I was a spazz, no point in hiding it. Before I could rethink anything I suddenly grabbed the tender, "make that two." I said in a shy voice - holding up two fingers in the process.
