I needed a haircut.
Everyone had told me that for weeks, even months, but usually in a joking manner. Now that Taylor’s wedding was drawing nearer, Mom was just this side of nagging me about it, asking if I thought I’d better not wear it back in a ponytail if I wasn’t going to cut it, if I wouldn’t like to make an appointment for a trim, and so on.
Somewhere along the way, it got under my skin and became yet another thing I hated about myself. And so it had to go. I scheduled myself in for a haircut right after Taylor, with no plan except that I knew I couldn’t go on another minute with all of that hair weighing me down.
It had become something to hide behind, I realized, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do without that, but I had to try. Maybe if I got rid of that, I wouldn’t have anything to hide or anything to hide from. It couldn’t hurt, at least.
Or could it?
I watched my hair fall to the floor as Taylor’s hairdresser tried to make small talk with me and I wanted to scream. I couldn’t take it back now. I couldn’t change my mind without walking out of there an even bigger monstrosity than when I had walked in. I looked over at the next station, at the gleaming pairs of scissors lined up neatly, and I had to dig my fingernails into the arm of the chair to keep from jumping up and grabbing a pair.
The urges were getting stronger and stronger, but I never acted upon them. Every time it was something gory and destructive. Last week it was a massive kitchen knife. I’d pictured myself pulling it from its holder and chopping off my left hand. I could practically see the blood and feel the searing pain. Only the thought that it would ruin everything we’d worked for—were still working for, however unsuccessfully—stopped me.
Now, all I could picture was a pair of those sharp barber’s scissors sticking through my skull.
“All done,” Trisha announced in a voice that felt way too chipper for the situation, but of course she couldn’t know what was going on inside my head. If it were up to me, no one at all would ever know.
She spun my chair around so I could see myself in the mirror, but the guy staring back at me didn’t look like me at all. Maybe that was a good thing. I lifted a hand and ran it through my now-short hair. Well, shorter. It was still shaggy and messy, so in a way, I didn’t really look all that different. But it hadn’t been even this short since I was nine years old. Since before… everything.
“It’s good,” I said, glancing up at Trisha and giving her the most genuine smile I’d smiled in months. “I like it. Thanks.”
I couldn’t erase everything, especially not just by cutting off a few inches of hair, but maybe this really would help. I already felt lighter—both physically and mentally. Maybe this would get me closer to who I used to be, before the world knew me and everything became so complicated.
I commandeered Taylor’s laptop that evening, because his was the only one our webcam worked with, and crossed my fingers that Kate would be online. I knew she and Natalie were going shopping for bridesmaids dresses that day, and I hadn’t told her about my plan. I turned the webcam on and waited anxiously until finally her username popped up on my screen.
I could see that she was typing, but no words appeared on my screen. Instead, the phone rang, and sure enough, the caller ID revealed a Georgia number.
“Hello?”
“You look so much younger.”
I laughed. “Is that good or bad? And why didn’t you just say that online?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just needed to hear your voice,” she replied. “And yes, it’s a good thing. You don’t look like the weight of the world—literally—is on your shoulders anymore.”
“I thought you liked my long hair.”
“I do,” Kate said. “But you shouldn’t do stuff just because I like it. And that goes for what anyone likes—just do what you like, Zac. What makes you happy.”
“I know,” I replied, even though I wasn’t sure at all what made me happy anymore. I shifted around in my seat, then asked, “Did you guys have fun today?”
“Mhm,” Kate said. “Natalie already had her heart set on these red satin dresses, so we just had to figure out what size everyone needed. We picked out our prom dresses, too.”
Kate and I weren’t going to the prom together. I wouldn’t admit it to her, but I was kind of relieved that she had made a pact with one of her guy friends before she and I even started dating. Even now that we were together, she’d decided to honor that. It was decent of her to do, and it got me off the hook, too. Taylor was going with Natalie, though, which surprised me. It was a big deal, especially since they were still trying to keep their engagement and the circumstances surrounding it a secret.
I still didn’t really understand how any of the last few months were real or how any of it had happened. Kate was no help, either; we were both under the impression that Taylor and Natalie’s relationship was on its last legs. We had agreed not to intervene because it really wasn’t any of our business anyway. Then one night at dinner, Taylor stood up and announced that he had gotten Natalie pregnant.
All I remember after that is a lot of yelling. Everyone was yelling—Mom, Dad, Taylor, Isaac, our managers and the label execs. It seemed like no one stopped screaming for a week. Then it all settled down to a strange, unsettling silence, except for Mom’s constant phone calls to Georgia to plan a wedding long distance.
A wedding. My brother was getting married. My brother was having a child. Taylor was going to be responsible for another human being’s life, and I could barely hold myself together for the length of time it took to get my hair cut.
“Zac? You still there?” Kate asked.
“Yeah, sorry,” I replied. “I was just thinking… about everything. I’m glad you like my hair, though.”
“I really do,” she said. “I was just saying I was glad Nat was in a good mood today. It’s been pretty crazy here. I didn’t know pregnancy mood swings would start so early. But maybe it’s just Nat.”
“Taylor barely leaves the studio these days,” I admitted. “Which is good, in a way, I guess. Means we might get the album done sometime this century. But I worry about him, you know? I’ve never really seen him like this. This is more than his usual focus and drive.”
“Do you feel like sometimes they act like this was all some big, freak accident and wasn’t their fault at all?” Kate asked softly, and I could tell just from her tone of voice that she was ashamed of herself for asking the question.
“Yeah,” I replied just as softly. “I mean, that could… that could be us, you know?”
“We were careful, though.”
Neither of us would say the word, for fear that one of the billion people living in my house had picked up the phone. But it was true; it could have been us if we hadn’t been careful. When Kate was here for New Year’s Eve, after I had said those three little words and Isaac had generously spiked our drinks at the party, well… things happened.
We sneaked out to my van in the driveway, since I shared my bedroom with Taylor and the girls were all camped out in the living room. It wasn’t romantic at all, losing our virginity in the back of a van as old as I was, but it was the only place where we knew we would have a little privacy. I was so nervous I could barely put on the condom I had stolen from the box Taylor kept in his underwear drawer, and the whole thing was over in about ten minutes. Still, it was the best ten minutes of my life, and I was fairly confident Kate felt the same way, even if I didn’t have the nerve to ask her.
We had talked about doing it again, but once Taylor made his big announcement, I think it scared us straight. In any case, our relationship seemed to mostly take place over the phone and online these days. There wasn’t much we could do that way, and I think that was a little bit of a relief. I loved Kate, sure, but I wasn’t ready for what Taylor was going through.
A knock at the door interrupted me from my thoughts. A moment later, Mom poked her head through the door. “Zac, sweetheart? Are you coming down for dinner?”
“Not tonight,” I replied, placing my hand over the receiver. “I ate after I got my hair cut.”
“Okay,” she said. “It looks nice, by the way. You’re going to look very handsome in your tux.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Once she was gone, I took my hand off the phone and said, “Sorry, that was my mom. I guess it’s dinner time.”
“I’ll let you go, then,” Kate said. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I put the phone back on its cradle and turned back to Taylor’s laptop. I snapped a few goofy pics with the webcam and emailed them to Kate, figuring she would get a laugh out of them. I really did look different, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
Once I was just starting to get bored with the Internet, I heard a knock at the door again. Mom appeared again, this time holding a plate in her hands. With a soft smile, she said, “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but it’s your favorite–lasagna. I just wanted to make sure you got a serving before it was all gone.”
“Thanks,” I choked out, my stomach turning just at the thought of food.
Mom sat the plate down on the desk, gave me a soft kiss on the forehead and walked out of the room. It made me feel even worse that she was so sweet and oblivious, but I suppose that was how most mothers were when it came to their teenage sons. You would think, after one teenage pregnancy, she would become a little more suspicious, but I was grateful that she wasn’t.
The truth was, I hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. I did stop at Taco Bueno on the drive home with Taylor, but I left my food in the bag while he gorged himself on both of our servings of nachos. He was so lost in his own world lately that he didn’t even notice; I had counted on that, and he didn’t disappoint.
I picked up the fork and stabbed the slice of lasagna. I had run out of weed a few days earlier, so my appetite was non-existent. I could force myself to eat it, but if I did, I was stuck with it. Sticking my fingers down my throat again wasn’t an option; I wasn’t some crazy bulimic or anything. That had been a one time thing.
Finally, I took one, small, tentative bite, chewing slowly before forcing myself to swallow.
When it didn’t immediately threaten to come back up, I took another bite. Then another. By the time I had forced it all down, the lasagna had gone cold and was completely disgusting. But I did it. I had eaten an entire plate of food for the first time in probably weeks.
Maybe this haircut really was a good thing for me. Maybe it was a turning point, and things really would be different from now on.