“Look at this damn mess,” Mom’s boyfriend said, waving his beer bottle around the kitchen. Strands of my hair snaked across the linoleum floor. The setting sun highlighted the golden locks as a breeze from the open window pushed them along. |
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“It’s like some dog is shedding or something. But we don’t have a dog… all we’ve got is her.” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “And, hell, I think a dog would be more useful.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, exposing another inch of striped boxer shorts. Needle tracks tattooed his bare arms.
Mom’s boyfriend, what a charmer. His name didn’t matter since he’d probably be gone soon enough, and Mom would move on to someone else
Shoving my comb into my pocket, I slunk out of the kitchen. I slipped into a corner of the dining room and hid behind a dingy curtain. I tried to stuff my hair into the hood of my sweatshirt, but there was too much of it. Curls fell around my face. Pulling my knees into my chest, I grew as quiet as possible, hoping that Boyfriend would forget about me.
No such luck.
He tossed his beer into the garbage can and twisted open another bottle. “I mean look at this. It’s driving me nuts.” He used the toe of his boot to pull a couple strands across the floor. “I’m serious. A dog would be better.”
He weaved toward me while pulling a switch blade out of his pocket. “I know what. Let’s cut her hair. Could be kind of fun.”
Boyfriend had been acting worse than usual after I caught him trying to get into the bathroom while I took a shower. I told Mom about it and she dumped him until he sweet-talked her into taking him back.
Mom now squinted in my direction. A buzz—from the booze or pot, I couldn’t tell— rolled through her eyes. Red lipstick was smeared across her lips, matching the mark on her cheek, a souvenir from Boyfriend’s earlier rage..
Usually Mom would stand up for me, saying something like, “Hey, she’s all I got. You ain’t nothing compared to her.” This time, though, she just nodded. Was she agreeing with the creep? A dog would be better than having me around?
I smothered a sob and pushed into the curtain until it hid me completely. Please not my hair, I chanted inside my mind.
“Forget about her,” Mom said, her voice a raspy whisper. Louder, she added, “ Sydney, get out of here, okay? Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
Rain pinged against the window.
“Syd, I’m speaking to you.” Mom yanked me up and shoved me toward the door. “Get lost.”
I ripped my arm away.
Mom said, gentle now, “Come on, baby. Just for a little while. I think this one’s a keeper. Maybe he’ll pop the question.”
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More like pop you in the face, but I kept that thought to myself. I’d learned long ago to keep my mouth shut. Boyfriend lurched in my direction while Mom pushed me toward the door. A James Brown song, “Shake Your Money Maker,” wailed from the stereo. |
Outside, I stumbled down the steps as the rain quickened. It was just my luck that the sunny afternoon had turned stormy. I had no coat. No money. No nothing. Should I take James Brown’s advice and shake my money-maker? I was sure there were plenty of men who might pay for a fifteen-year-old’s company.
A guy watching me from the corner caught my eye. He wore a white tee-shirt, sleeves rolled up, and 501s tucked into biker boots. A duffel bag sat at his feet. A bushy beard hid the bottom of his face and a black cowboy hat concealed the rest. Some kind of biker-cowboy? Pretty unusual in my neck of the urban woods. Trying to light a cigarette, he seemed unaware of the rain as it soaked his smoke, his shirt, everything.
Maybe Biker-Cowboy could be my first customer. What did I have to lose?
I lifted my face to the rain, allowing the cool water to wash down my cheeks. Tenement buildings leaned over me. My world cascaded in gray streams. It flowed within me, a monotonous river, no color, nothing to brighten my life.
Releasing my hair from the hood, I shook it around my face. I wrapped my fingers around a curl brushing my cheek. Golden. Finally some color. Maybe I did have something to lose after all.
Biker-Cowboy, short and stocky, sauntered a few steps toward me. Muscles popped in his arms as he crooked his finger at me.
I looked around, hoping he was gesturing to someone else, but the street was empty. Shaking my head, I backed up and almost tripped on the curb. I wanted nothing to do with whatever he was offering.
He leered at me and swung his bag from hand to hand as he came closer.
Splashing through puddles, I turned and ran. A group of guys sharing a bottle whistled as I sprinted past them. I considered asking them for help, but they’d probably be more trouble than the guy following me.
Having recently moved, I had no friends, no one to take me in. So I headed for Jotun’s Market, the only place I felt safe. Lonnie, the owner, always let me hang out. For an old guy, he was super cool. He wore his white hair in a braid down his back, and, although I’m 5’10”, he towered over me.
From about a block away, I saw the neon sign of Jotun’s Market flicker off. I moaned and ran harder, not caring how wet I got.
Once there, I pounded on the door, even though the sign in the window said closed and all the lights were off. I glanced over my shoulder; Biker-Cowboy gained on me.
Seconds later, the locks clicked open and Lonnie stuck his head out the door. “Ah, Syd. Your clothes, they’re soaking. Hurry, come in.” He spoke with a slight Norwegian accent, jumbling his words a little.
He pulled the door open farther and I rushed inside. Gulping for breath, I leaned against the wall.
Lonnie shook his head. “Again with your mother and boyfriend?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Lonnie put his finger over my lips.
“We talk later,” he said. “First, dry clothes and hot chocolate, yes?”
It sounded good to me since I didn’t feel like talking anyway. Besides, what else could I tell him? He already knew all about my situation.
He tossed me a sweatshirt, levis, and wool socks that he pulled from behind the counter. I headed for the restroom and changed. Everything fit perfectly, which didn’t seem possible. Why would he have my size just laying around? I decided to puzzle about it later. There were other things to worry about.
I dropped my wet clothes in a plastic bag Lonnie gave me and followed him to a storage room in the back. A package of red licorice, my favorite, and a mug of hot chocolate sat on a crate. I sank into a chair next to it as a feeling of peace rushed over me.
“Ah, Syd, what can we do?” Lonnie asked, rubbing his beard “Your mother and this boyfriend, they must stop… and, well, I have a little plan.”
His eyes swirled in green-blue pools, never resting. Lonnie was always thinking of a joke to tell or prank to play.
I shrugged. “Nothing to be done. When I’m old enough I’ll get out of there or maybe sooner.” I thought about running away all the time. Hey ,” I added. “I don’t want to talk about my Mom and her stupid boyfriend. Maybe you could tell me one of your stories instead.”
Lonnie stared at the wall above my head, his mind obviously somewhere else. “A story… later perhaps. First I show you something. It be here soon.”
He left the room before I could respond.
I sipped the chocolate and munched on licorice. Lonnie was always giving me stuff, yet he never expected anything in return, just that I listen to stories about the old times in Norway. He said he did some bad things back then, although he wouldn’t go into detail, and he was trying to make up for them now. His eyes would grow sadder than mine, wetter too, until some of his despair dripped into me.
He told me wild stories about these Gods and their crazy stunts. My favorite was the one about this Loki dude and how he cut off Sif’s golden hair. Her husband, the king or something, got so mad that Loki had his gnome buddy Ivaldi make her some new hair out of real gold.
Lonnie always ended by saying, “Syd, your hair is just as beautiful as Sif’s. Maybe more so.”
I’d go home feeling real special, like I mattered to someone. The sensation only lasted for a little while until Mom and her current boyfriend cut me back down.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the chair. Sleep took me away for a few minutes until the door creaked and my eyes jerked open. Biker-Cowboy stood there. His soaking hat, forming puddles around his feet, dripped from his hand. I screamed. |
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Lonnie appeared in the doorway and yelled something in a foreign language. Biker-Cowboy hung his head.
“Sydney, Sydney, calm yourself,” Lonnie said. “This is friend of mine, Ivan. He says that he saw you on the street. Sometimes his appearance is alarming, yes?” Lonnie wagged a finger at Ivan, who shuffled to a chair and sat.
Ivan placed his duffle bag between his feet. Black hair ran down his arms in thick swirls, and through his wet tee-shirt, I saw that it covered his entire body.
Glaring at Lonnie, Ivan said, “Didn’t mean nothin’.” To me he added, “Sorry, Miss. Sometimes I don’t know how to behave in this worl—.”
Lonnie interrupted him. “Ivan and I make something for you. It fix your home problem, I think.”
Lonnie nodded at Ivan. He dipped a hand into his bag and pulled out an object wrapped in soggy tissue paper. Lonnie took it and whipped off the paper, revealing a golden wig.
“For you,” Lonnie said
“But I already have hair.”
Lonnie chuckled. “Not for your head. Here, first you must hold then I explain.”
He placed the wig in my hands. It wasn’t made from hair but real gold, the thinnest I’d ever seen, and it weighed almost nothing. One continuous piece formed the wig with individual curls carved in it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
Ivan, blushing, crossed his arms over this chest and let out his breath.
“But I can’t take it. It’s worth too much,” I added.
“Oh, you’ll take it,” Lonnie said, his eyes suddenly hard.
“No way. Where would I hide it? Mom and Boyfriend would find it and sell it or something.”
“Good, because Ivan make for the boyfriend,” Lonnie said.
“What?”
“Now listen, no interrupt.”
I closed my mouth.
“This golden wig, you give to the boyfriend,” Lonnie said. “It’s…. special. Like in the story about Sif, yes? Your problem at home, it’s gone tomorrow.” He snapped his fingers.
“This is stupid. My life isn’t a story. You can’t call in one of your Norse Gods and suddenly everything is better.” Seeing the expressions on Lonnie’s and Ivan’s faces, I suddenly felt bad for being so ungrateful. “Okay, look I’m sorry. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me. But cash would be better. If I had enough money, I could take off .”
Ivan stood, his fists on his hips, and blurted something in a foreign language to Lonnie, who patted his friend on the shoulder.
“ Sydney, you offend Ivan. Please take gift. Do as I say. You always come to old Lonnie when you need help. I never let you down. You trust me now and give golden wig to the boyfriend.”
What else could I do? Lonnie was my friend, and although Ivan was pretty freaky, he’d meant well and the wig he’d made was incredible. Maybe I could keep it hidden from Mom until I found someone to sell it to.
“All right,” I said. “Thanks.”
“And your mother, you help her change. She’s your flesh and blood. Your ties go deep, can’t be broken. You remember this, yes?” Lonnie said.
I nodded. Inside, though, I wasn’t so sure I believed him.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, then Lonnie added, “You go now, Syd. Catch this boyfriend before he goes to bed and give him wig.” He wrapped the golden hair in the tissue and took my arm, leading me to the front door.
Ivan trailed behind us. He smiled as I shook his hand, then he patted me on the head, almost knocking me over.
“You trust old Lonnie.” He gave me a stern look before closing the door. Deep chuckles came from the store as I headed home. Were they laughing at me? Was this one of Lonnie’s pranks?
The rain stopped and the street lights reflected off the puddles. Again, I felt that feeling of gray monotony grip me until the moon broke through a layer of clouds. Maybe there was hope after all. Maybe I just needed to follow Lonnie’s advice.
Music blared from my apartment as I trudged up the steps. I threw the door open and marched inside. “I’m back,” I yelled.
Boyfriend, just in his boxers, and Mom, wearing a robe, lay on the sofa, their legs intertwined. If this had been any other night, I’d have hurried to my bedroom and locked the door. But tonight I wanted their attention.
“I found something in the street,” I said, turning off the music. “Look. I think it’s real gold.” I unwrapped the wig and held it out.
“Hey, my tunes…” Boyfriend squinted at the wig. He shoved Mom away and slowly stood.
Mom’s head lolled back onto the sofa. She mumbled, “That’s beautiful, Syd. Real gold, you say? That’d keep us rolling in beer, huh?”
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“Give that to me, girl.” Boyfriend grabbed the wig. Laughing, he put it on his head and twirled around the room. “Show me the money. Show me the money,” he sand, sinking back onto the sofa with the wig still in place. I stood there until after their eyes shut and Boyfriend’s snores filled the apartment. But nothing happened. As I headed for my room, I hoped that Lonnie hadn’t steered me wrong. |
Mom’s screams woke me the next morning. “ Sydney! Help!”
I jumped out of bed, feeling disoriented, not sure where I was. The previous night seemed like a dream.
By the time I reached the living room, Mom lay on the floor, wailing.
I froze.
Boyfriend was splayed across the couch, half on, half off, as if he’d tried to get up as some point. The wig was gone, replaced by hundreds of golden hairs sprouting from every pore of his body. They grew from his ears and nose in clumps. I could no longer see his eyes at all. He was like a creature from one of Lonnie’s stories.
He gurgled and opened his mouth. Hair even grew on his tongue. Was it inside him too? Suffocating him? He gasped again, his head rolling to one side, and fell off the couch.
I ran to him, and even though it made me sick, I pushed through the hair on his wrist and felt for his pulse. Nothing.
“I think he’s… gone,” I said.
Mom sobbed. “What happened? I don’t remember nothing from last night.”
I buried my face in my hands. Lonnie’s promise had come true. But was this what I’d wanted? To kill someone?
Mom shuddered, and I lifted my face. The hair covering Boyfriend was retreating, vanishing, until he looked normal again.
“Where’d all that hair go?” Mom asked.
I hesitated. “What? I didn’t see any hair. You must still be high. Try to sober up while I call the police. He probably just had a heart attack or something.”
I dialed 9-1-1 and explained my predicament to the dispatcher, who told me an ambulance was on its way. I moved to the window and leaned my forehead against the cool glass.
Ivan stood on the corner. He picked up his duffel bag and nodded. Before I could react, he scurried down the street, out of sight.
“You’re probably right, this is just too much for me. I’ll go take a shower.” Mom sniffed and wobbled down the hall to the bathroom.
“Maybe Ivan could make a wig for you too,” I whispered, watching Mom slump against the wall, but I pushed that evil thought away. As Lonnie had said, she was my flesh and blood, all I’ve got. I’d do what he wanted—help her the best I could.
Besides, Lonnie wasn’t exactly someone you crossed. I didn’t want to wake up one morning and discover that my own hair had been replaced with Lonnie’s gold.