A New Life, A New Look

I was finally done. It was over. No more dressing the way he wants, wearing my hair the way he wants, talking to, or rather not talking to, whoever he wants. I am free. My friends seem to think that I should be ecstatic. I should be bounding with delight at this newfound abandon, but I’m apprehensive. This freedom is cold and raw. I’ve spent so much time submitting to the whims of someone else that this space is overwhelming. I find myself paralyzed. Small things like deciding on a hairstyle should not be so painstaking, yet it took me almost three hours just to make the appointment.

 My hand trembled as I reached for the door to the aptly named New Beginnings Salon and Spa. The name is what sold me when I was setting up the appointment. My best friend said this would be therapeutic for me. “Starting fresh with a new look,” she said. I’m kind of skeptical at how much a haircut could actually change how I feel right now. 

The receptionist smiled warmly at me as I walked through the door. I wondered if she could see my apprehension. She was pretty, unassuming, but there was something more. I felt envious or empowered, or both, I’m not sure. She had beauty, strength and confidence that didn’t need to be advertised. My eyes lingered on her face for a second too long as she asked my name. She had dark hair and eyes, and smooth caramel-colored skin. I couldn’t determine her age though. Though she looked youthful, there was so much experience and wisdom radiating from her that she couldn’t possibly be young.

 As she took my information, she seemed to notice my awkwardness but was neither bothered nor amused by it, strangely accepting rather. As she stood to lead me into the main foyer she handed me a small kerchief made of silk. It was deep red and scented with frankincense, mint, and mimosa. Without thinking, I put the silk against my face and closed my eyes, breathing in the beautiful scent and feeling the cool fabric on my face. I slowly open my eyes to her amused smile.

 “What is this for?” I asked, hoping to seem less strange to the stranger.

 “It’s for you, of course,” was her reply. She opened the door and ushered me through. I lifted the silk and deeply inhaled the enchanting scent as I entered the room.

 “Hello! Are you my appointment?” A pretty, young, bottle blonde approached me.

  “Uhm, yes?” I answer. My heart is pounding, but the silk in my hands steadies me.

 “I’m Jasmine,” she reaches out and takes my hand in hers. “Are you set on what we discussed over the phone, or would you like to look at some other options?”

 “I’m set, and I need to do it before I change my mind,” I say, feigning humor, but she immediately responds to my apprehension.

 “You’re sure? That’s a really dramatic change,” she implores further.

 “I am,” I straighten my shoulders and meet her eyes.

 “Fantastic!” She smiles brightly, though unconvinced. 

She offers me a place to leave my bag, then leads me to the shampoo sinks. She is chatting about something but I can’t seem to follow. As I lower myself into the chair, there’s a strange emotion welling up in my chest. Feeling defensive, I hold the sanguine kerchief against my lips and concentrate on my breathing. The sensation swells and almost overpowers me. It’s not comfortable, but it is a strange sense of pain. It is hot, electric, and furious. I feel it moving through my veins, purifying my every cell. I lean back in the chair and look up at the ceiling, but I feel like I’m floating. I close my eyes.

His face floats to the front of my thoughts, triggering years of anxiety, but as the water runs through my hair his dominion falls away. I feel fingers massaging my scalp and the tingle of the purifying shampoo. His presence withers. I run the silk through my fingers as the smooth and sweet-smelling conditioner is worked through my hair. As Jasmine goes through the final rinse of my hair, his form fades from my mind’s eye. No longer a threat, no longer a source of pain, of anger. He is simply, no longer.

I open my eyes as Jasmine places a towel around my hair. Everything is brighter. The colors are more vivid than they were when I first walked into the foyer. Neon pinks contrasting sharp blues and black making the salon look young and fresh. The greens and grays of the products on the shelves, the silver shine of the lighted mirrors. The vision was strangely ethereal. Everything smells amazing, too. There are the perfumed smells of styling products and conditioners, the sharp tinge of ammonia and dyes, and lying underneath is the clean chemical smell of disinfectant. How did I not notice this before?

“Wow,” says Jasmine as I meet her eyes. “I just noticed how pretty your eyes are.”

“Thank you,” I quietly responded.

She leads me to the chair placed in front of the lighted mirrors. My mousy brown hair hung down well past my shoulder blades, though now it looks dark and shiny from the water. Jasmine combed through its length and pinned up the bulk of it in a clip.

“The point of no return,” she whispers dramatically, then hesitates to give me one last chance at protesting. She inhales deeply and closes the scissors, cutting the hair, cutting the years, cutting the hurt, the anger, the grief. Cutting away the cruel and confined life that I had suffered. I close my eyes and allow everything to fall away. Only slightly above the ambient sounds of the salon I can hear the rasping of the scissors as they contour and shape my transformation.

In my mind’s eye I see intricate shapes and colors, beautiful mandalas dancing in and out of view. Everything seemed to be falling into exquisite patterns. Patterns that read strength, blood, and fire. I feel the contrast of the cool, watery, silk falling through my fingers, the fading scent lingering in my nostrils, feeding my senses, holding my core and setting my soul alight. I feel the heat pulse through my veins again, this time feeding, strengthening and revitalizing. When I open my eyes I can barely recognize the woman in the mirror.

Sleek curls fall in layers around my face. Deep chestnut locks shimmer in the light, accentuating the stark, emerald irises of my eyes. My skin glows with an internal light. Everything just shines. A voice seeps forward in my mind. You are strong, she whispers. You hold the power of the ages, the power of the goddess. Jasmine pulls the barber’s cape from my shoulders. Shine, the voice whispers. I tune my mind and listen as closely as I can, willing the voice to keep speaking, though I know that she’s already said all she will.

“Hey I know that figure,” Jasmine’s words cut into my mind, bringing me back to the salon.

“What?” I ask.

“Kali,” she points at the kerchief that I have spread across my lap. I noticed for the first time the many-armed warrior woman clothed in bone and jewels imprinted on the silk. “She’s a goddess or something like that.”

“Huh,” I said, touching the silk lightly.

“Where’d you get it?” Jasmine inquired, walking toward the front counter.

“Your receptionist gave it to me,” I furrowed my brow, as we completed our transaction. I met Jasmine’s eyes and she looked at me quizzically. I hand her a generous tip

“It wasn’t our receptionist, hon, we don’t have one,” She glanced at the cash in her hand. “Thank you so much!” She flashed a dazzling smile.

“Um, yes, thank.. Thank you,” I replied. Realization set in as I looked once again at the silk in my hand. I pulled open the door, straightened my shoulders and stepped onto the sidewalk.