The Beautiful Gift

Jane was an ugly child. One day she would be beautiful, when she was old enough for plastic surgery. But five years seemed like an eternity away. For now, her big hook nose was going to have to stay. She couldn’t even picture herself ever being a teenager. Her only saving grace till then, was her hair. “Jane has such beautiful hair,” grownups would always say. “If only she would take care of it,” her mother would dutifully chime in. 

Class picture day was coming up and her mother sat her as she did every day on the red stool in the kitchen to brush out her long, curly, tangled hair, but today, her mother had different intentions.

She began with her usual comments when brushing Jane’s hair: “What a rat’s nest!” Jane screamed at every pull. “If you would only take care of it, this wouldn’t hurt so much,” her mother continued, her voice straining at every knot. Finally fed up, her mother put her hands up as if to say, “I give up.” Then she stood in front of Jane with refurbished energy and said in her sing-song voice, “Hey, I have a great idea!”

“What?” Jane sulked. 

      “How about,” her mother said while holding Jane’s gaze and reaching to the counter for the scissors, “we cut it and give you a nice manageable cute style, kind of like—"

           “No!” Jane screamed, protecting, her hair with her hands. She ducked under her mother and ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

           “Jane, you get out here this instant, do you hear me? Jane?”

            Jane refused to answer. She stared at her tear-botched face in the mirror stroking her hair as one might comfort a rescued pet. If everyone said her hair was so beautiful, then why should she cut it? Alicia at school must be beautiful because all the boys were always around her at the playground. Nobody teased Alicia, and her short hair didn’t seem so special. Alicia had brown eyes and Jane's were blue. What made Alicia beautiful and her not? Alicia did have a little button nose, so that had to be it: why Alicia was popular and she wasn’t. Five years was a long time to endure all the teasing she received daily at school and at home. Her father called her Jimmy Durante, her brother said she must be a liar because her nose was just like Pinocchio’s.  At school, the boys called her ‘The Hawk. She couldn’t imagine what kind of extra teasing she would get if she got a haircut.

           Jane then realized that her mother had become very quiet, almost as if she had left the house. But she would never do that unless letting Jane know first. Jane was only just beginning to be allowed to stay home alone for short periods of time while her mother ran quick errands. Jane was curious where her mother went, but she was not going to open that door. 

           Instead, she continued to study her face. She had rinsed away her tears and examined more carefully her blue eyes that had yellow swirls in them. Jane thought they were pretty. She smiled and tilted her head the way a movie star poses. A nice smile? She had no idea. She turned farther sideways to better see her profile. Her nose wasn’t big per se, it was just truly hooked and had a bump in the middle. Jane thought it looked like the side of one of those mountains the painting guy on TV made.

           She slid down onto the pink, shag rug, hunched over and tented herself with her hair. She loved tents, small, cozy places where she could be in peace without her mother constantly nagging her to stop her pouting. “All you do is sulk,” her mother continually complained. “You should smile more. You’re so much prettier when your smile.” 

           “Not pretty enough,” Jane would mumble to herself. She began making patterns with her hands in the nap of the rug until her mother came back and knocked lightly on the door. 

           “Janey, honey,” her mother said gently. “Come on, honey. Don’t pout in there all day. Open the door. I won’t cut your hair, I promise.” She waited for Jane to respond. When she didn’t, her mother said more sternly, “Come on, honey. Enough is enough.” Then with forced sweetness her mother added, “I’ll tell you what—Why don’t you come out and you and I can go one of our special outings. Daddy’s on the road and your brother and sister re at their friends’ houses.”

           Jane lifted her head. Her mother used the ‘promise’ word. She always told Jane and her siblings to never make a promise you can’t keep. Feeling confident her hair was safe, she went and unlocked the door. Her mother was crouched with outstretched arms. There was nothing more comforting than the arms of her mother, far superior to any tent.  Squeezing tightly, her mother said, “Who’s my little honey bun?” “Me!” Jane giggled, and hopped alongside her mother to the coat closet. 

           Her mother stooped to help Jane with her coat in their usual getting ready to go out dance: arm in, spin! Other arm, forward, zip! Then her mother put on her own coat, gray, cinched waist and black fur collar. She looked elegant and her smile looked to Jane as if she were happy and proud to be going on an outing with her little girl.

            “Where are we going?” Jane asked, sitting next to her mom in the front seat of the light blue sedan.

           “It’s a surprise,” her mother turned and smiled at her with a wink. That smile! The only smile in Jane’s life that adored her.

           Soon they pulled into the small parking lot for their small town. 

           “Ice cream!” Jane thought. Going to Millie’s, just the two of them had been their secret for years.” Don’t tell the others,” he mother would always say as they spooned delicious cream out of little metal bowls up to their mouths.

           But wait— they were not walking in the direction of Millie’s, but toward Phyllis’s Hair Salon. Jane stopped short and looked up at her mother in terror. 

           “Don’t worry,” her mother stooped down. “We’re going in for me. Then,” she stroked Jane’s face, “we will go to Millie‘s after.” Relieved once again, she took her mother‘s hand followed her in.

           The bell on the door jingled and Phyllis, an oversized woman with big blonde hair briskly came to greet them. 

           “Rebecca so good to see you!” They hugged and Phyllis led them to the last black chair in the row of lights and mirrors. As her mother settled into the chair, Phyllis took Jane’s chin in her hand. “Hello Jane. Are you here to keep your mommy company?” Jane nodded shyly. “Well aren’t you just a sweetie,” Phyllis said, taking her hand. “Come over here and you can sit and watch.” The area Jane was in was darker and it was as if the salon area was a movie screen and her mom and Phyllis were the actors. This movie, however, talked to the audience.

           “So, Jane, what grade are you in now?” Phyllis asked while pinning the cape around her mother‘s neck.

           “Fifth,” Jane replied. 

           “Wow! You’re getting older, and more mature.” She winked at her mother as if they had a secret. “So, Rebecca, what’ll it be today, wash and set?”

           “Oh no, nothing big today,” her mom replied. “Just a trim.” Jane noticed her mother’s voice sounded different, but didn’t think much more about it. Phyllis began snipping the scissors, but it looked as if they barely touched her mother’s already short hair, and very few strands fell to the ground. 

           “What a beautiful girl you have there Rebecca,” Phyllis said to her mom’s reflection. Grownups were supposed to say that, Jane knew. Grownups didn’t know that fifth graders were the real judge of beauty, and she did not fall into those ranks. Still, she dutifully smiled. She would be beautiful one day, and then she would be a movie star, and one day, she’ll show them all. 

           “I know,” her mother responded to Phyliss, still with that strange tone in her voice. “One day she’s going to be a real looker. I just wish I could get her to do something with her hair. But she made me promise I wouldn’t cut it.” Mom put her hands up as if to say ‘don’t shoot’.

            Phyllis looked over at Jane. She was done with her mom and shaking out the cape. “Come over here darling, and sit in the chair.” Her mother looked at her with bright hopeful eyes. “It’ll be fun,” They both chimed, Jane did it would be kind of fun to sit in the chair like a fashion model and pretend. And her mother did make the no cut promise. Eagerly, she hopped into the chair and let Phyllis wrap her in the cape. It was so cozy. The two women stood behind and stared excitedly at her in the mirror. Phyllis began tussling her fingers through Jane’s snarls but she didn’t pull and it didn’t hurt. Jane stared at her long face. The distance of the mirror caused her nose to blend in with the rest of her face and again, she pondered the word beautiful.

           “If she did let you cut her hair, Rebecca,” Phyllis interrupted Jane’s thoughts, “How short would you want it?”

            Her mother leaned in and pushed up the sides of Jane‘s hair to shoulder length. “Like this,” she said, “like a Bob. “Don’t you think that would be lovely on her?”

           “Absolutely,” Phyllis agreed. “And maybe some wispy bangs?”

           “Oh yes!” Her mother clasped her hands in joy. “That would be perfect!”

            They both looked at Jane through the reflection. “What do you think, honey? Want to try it?” Phyllis asked.

           “No!” Jane said louder than she meant to and covered her head with her hands.

           Her mother came to stand in front of her and put her hands on her hips. “Jane, now look, it will grow back. I just want you to try it. You will thank me after. I’m your mother and I know it’s best for you.”

           She backed up and told Phyllis to cut just a little, and before Jane could plan any escape Phyllis snipped off a chunk of the side of her hair. Jane cried through the whole process.

            At the cash register, as Phyllis and her mother continued to chit chat, Jane slinked out the door and looked at her reflection in the glass. Her mother said the cut hid her nose more than the long hair, but Jane thought it enhanced it. She continued sobbing along the brick wall of the building. A woman stopped. “Honey, are you lost? Did you lose your mommy?” Jane wished she had lost her mommy but pointed to the door and nodded no. 

           Her mother came out and said, “Oh there you are —what? Are you still crying?”

            “You promised!” Jane seethed at her.

            “I know,” she said, adding, “And technically, I didn’t cut it, Phyllis did.”

           “You let her!” Jane screeched.

           “Now you just calm down. We’re going to Millie‘s just like I promise you.”

           “You don’t keep promises,” Jane snapped. 

           “Don’t be rude,” her mother stated firmly. “Do you want ice cream or not? But sure as not, we’re not going until you can stop your crying.”

           “I don’t want ice cream,” Jane grunted.

           “Well fine with me, her mother said taking her hand. “Hold on to me, the streets are busy.” Jane took it reluctantly and walked slowly, forcing her mother to pull her along forcefully.

            Mom opened the passenger door and pulled the mirror down. “Look,” she said. “It’s adorable.” and then walked to her side of the car. Jane push the mirror away and hunched with her back to her mother.

           “Oh, come on, are you going to sulk all the way home?” Jane didn’t answer. “Fine with me” her mother said and they drove home in silence, except for Mom‘s usual mindless humming of Doris Day songs. 

           Parked at the curb outside their house, mom turned to her one more time. “Look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, brushing it, and you screaming at every little knot. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought you would look bad.’ Still no budge from Jane. “It’s a Bob, for crying out loud. A lot of movie stars have Bob’s! You’ll thank me when you see how the school pictures come out.”

           Jane refused to budge, though she wanted to scream at the thought of having to go to school the next day.

           “Okay, have it your way. Stay here and pout. I’m going in to—Oh look, there’s Allie. Why don’t you go play with her while I go in and start dinner?”

           She patted Jane’s bum one last time, let out a huge sigh, and headed towards the house. Only when she was completely inside, did Jane emerge from the car.

            Allie was sitting on her front wall, fidgeting with something, eagerly waiting for Jane to approach. They were neighborhood friends in different grades, and never saw each other at school.

           “Hi!” Allie said with a smile. “Cute hair.”

            “I hate it,” Jane said. “My mother made me,” and told her the whole story.

           “Wow,” she said. “But it does look good. I mean, you don’t look like a dork or anything.” Jane didn’t believe her but said thanks just the same. Allie was always there to comfort Jane against all the teasing she got. “You don’t need a nose job to be beautiful,” she often said.

           “I have something for you,” Allie said, and she handed Jane a small vile filled with multicolor sand. Jane took it carefully in her hands and examined it. The colors were so bright and pretty.

           “What is this?” she asked.

           “It’s colored sand. My parents brought it back for you from their trip to Florida.”

           “Your parents bought me a souvenir?”

           “Of course! They love you, just like I do! They said they thought you would have fun with it in your mud pies. They love watching you out the window slapping together your recreations with rocks and sticks. They thought the sand could be like sprinkles.”

            Jane was speechless. She held the vile in her hand and brought it toward her chest. Her heart was beating fast, but not the same beating as her earlier experience with her hair. This beating was a really good feeling and she couldn’t stop smiling. She reached in to give Allie a hug. They squeezed each other tight and Jane didn’t want to let go. They were best friends and these feelings were beautiful.