A Month of Mondays Page 19

  “Are you going to wear your hair down tonight?” Jessica asked.

  “Yep. But I’m going to use Tracie’s flat iron.” I’d found it hidden under her bed when I was looking for my good shoes. She’d stuck it there to keep me away from it because she said my hair was fried enough already, but I had it heating up on the counter right now. With any luck, I’d be done, and it would cool down and be back in place before she got home.

  I put the final touches on my eye shadow and went to work on my hair. Jess and I were talking about our Christmas lists—both what we wanted and what we planned to buy—when I noticed a funny smell.

  In the mirror, I saw a little puff of smoke above my head and I jerked my hand away. We both stared wordlessly at a huge chunk of hair still clamped in the iron, even though I was now holding it away from my head.

  And then I said, “Oh, my God. Jess!”

  She sat there, frozen, her eyes huge.

  “How bad is it?” I asked, spinning around so she could see the back. I was now holding the long hank of hair in my hand, its ends singed, so I had a pretty good idea already. “What happened?”

  “I think maybe that was the chunk that was bleached before,” Jessica said, fingering the back of my head. “All the hair around it looks okay, but you’ve got this little patch where it’s about two inches long, and all frizzy.”

  I grabbed a brush and started pulling it through my hair. “Do you think I can cover it up?”

  “Umm…wait,” she said, grabbing my arm. “Stop brushing!”

  Another chunk of hair had broken off and was caught in the brush. Now I had a bald spot on the side of my head where one of the bleach streaks had been.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Well…”

  I stared at my hair in the mirror. Or what used to be my hair. I looked like a total dork. It was way worse than when Leigh bleached it. “Maybe I can slick it back into a ponytail with some gel.”

  “Either that or a hat,” Jessica said.

  “Against school rules.” I slopped some gel over my hands and ran them through my hair, pulling it up. I couldn’t make it smooth because I was too scared to brush it, but it was an improvement. “This so sucks,” I said. “But if I can just get it to lie down for tonight, I’ll have Caroline take me to her good hairdresser tomorrow, and she can fix it.”

  “Yeah,” Jessica said. She didn’t sound convinced.

  I couldn’t worry about it now. “Maybe it will look better when it dries,” I said. “I should get dressed.”

  She followed me to my room. “What are you wearing?”

  “Caroline got me this suit,” I said, pointing at a navy skirt and jacket hanging on the door of my wardrobe. “But seriously? I am so not wearing that.”

  “It’s nice,” she said, touching the sleeve.

  “I know, but it’s for a grown-up. I’d feel stupid. Amanda won’t be wearing a suit.”

  “Yeah, doubtful.”

  “I’m just going in my standard outfit: black sweater, black skirt, black tights.”

  “That’s probably better.”

  I’d never gotten around to sewing on the button that had popped off my good sweater, so I had to go with second-best. After I changed, I checked myself out in the wardrobe’s mirror. The gel hadn’t held very well, and the bits where my hair had broken off stuck out funny and stiff.

  “What I need is one of Tracie’s headbands,” I said. “That would cover the bald spot on the side.”

  We hurried back to the washroom and I rummaged through Tracie’s drawer. Something poked me in the hand. Dad’s manicure scissors. “Hey,” I said.

  Jessica could read my mind.

  “I don’t think you should.”

  But I was in no mood for reason. “Just the bits that are still sticking out.”

  “Suze,” she warned. “What about when you take the ponytail down?”

  But it was too late. I was already snipping away. “I don’t care about tomorrow.” I said. “I’m just worried about right now.” My hair laid a little flatter with every clip. After a few more snips, I studied it. “I don’t like the gel look,” I said. “I’m going to wash it out really fast.” I stripped down and jumped in the shower as quickly as I could, trying to keep my face out of the water so I didn’t have to re-do my makeup. Two minutes later I was out and getting dressed. I swiped the towel fiercely over my hair to dry it as much as I could.

  “Suze, stop!” Jessica yelled, grabbing my arm. “Another chunk just broke off.”

  I examined the towel, which was now covered with long strands of hair. Above my right ear was a bald patch to match the other side.

  The front door slammed.

  “Aggh!” I said. “It just keeps getting worse.”

  “Your hair?”

  “My life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tracie’s home.”

  Chapter 32

  I slammed the washroom door and locked us in. “She can’t see my hair.”

  “Maybe she can fix it. Didn’t you say she’s going to be a hairdresser?”

  “Yeah, but she’s not even talking to me. There’s no way she’d touch it.”

  How could I ask Tracie for help now? For one thing, she might realize I didn’t ruin it myself. That would mean a lot of questions on her part and a lot more trouble on mine. On the other hand, what was I going to do if she didn’t help me?

  “Do you think you could lie and say you colored it?” I begged Jessica.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because Tracie might help me if she thinks we screwed it up, but she won’t if she knows I went with Caroline.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, will you?”

  “Well, it’s not that I don’t want to,” Jess said. “It’s just that I’m not a very good liar.”

  “You’re an actress.”

  “That’s different. Besides, what will I say if she asks me what I did to it exactly?”

  “You could confuse her with your Shakespeare talk.”

  Tracie tried the washroom door. “Suze? Are you in there?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “I need to pee.”

  “Just a sec.” I looked around for something to cover my hair. Jessica handed me the towel off the floor. “Good thinking.” I scooped up all the bits of loose hair and stuffed them in the garbage can and covered them with scrunched up toilet paper.

  “Now!” Tracie yelled.

  I wrapped the towel around my head and opened the door. Tracie pushed past me and I thought I was home safe, but why would my luck change now?

  “Hey! That’s my towel,” she said.

  I tried to duck out of the way, but Tracie was way too fast for me. It was all those years of skating. She got a hold of a corner and pulled it off my head. Loose hair fell out of the towel onto the floor. God knows what my head looked like.

  We all stood there, frozen in time. “What happened to your hair?” Tracie finally asked.

  That’s when I lost it. I burst into tears and ran off howling to our room. Jessica and Tracie followed on my tail. I threw myself down on the bed sobbing. I could hear Jessica explaining that we’d dyed it. She didn’t say anything about Caroline or the salon trip, but I knew Tracie would probably ask to see the box from the hair color and the truth would all come out. Then she’d stomp off and leave me like the badly pruned bonsai tree that I was. She’d probably have a good laugh, too.

  “Sit up, Suze,” Tracie ordered. I sat up. “Let me look at it.” She fingered what was left of my hair. “It’s pretty bad,” she said, as I snuffled, and she turned my head to one side. “All I can do is shave it off with Dad’s clippers.”

  “Shave it?” Jessica and I yelled together.

  “Well, cut it really short. Like a p
ixie cut. It’s the only way I can make it even. Plus you’re going to want to grow it all out, so you might as well get rid of as much of this bad dye job as you can.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “That sounds so drastic. Don’t you have any wigs, Jessica?”

  “All of mine are costume ones,” she said. “They wouldn’t pass for real hair.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t care.”

  “Come on,” Tracie said. “It won’t be so bad.”

  “Why don’t you just take my head off and be done with it?” I whimpered.

  “There are some really beautiful models with really short hair,” Tracie said.

  “If only I were beautiful, that might be reassuring.”

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” she told us.

  Was she trying to pay me back for being such a sucky sister, or was that really all she could do? I touched my head with my hand. Across the room I saw Tracie’s alarm clock. Oh, my God. AJ was supposed to be here in ten minutes.

  “Okay. Okay. Shave it,” I said, running after her. “But do it quick, before I can think too much about it.”

  In the kitchen, Jessica and I laid newspaper down on the floor. Tracie came in and sat me in a chair with a towel around my shoulders.

  “See,” she said, holding up the clippers. “I put the one inch guide on it so it won’t make you bald or anything.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “Just…hurry.”

  When she flipped the switch the clippers buzzed angrily in my ear. Before she made even one inroad into my hair, something broke inside me. I couldn’t let Jessica take the blame for this. I couldn’t lie to Tracie. I had to own up.

  “Wait.”

  She turned off the clippers. “What now?”

  “Before you help me,” I said. “I owe you the truth.”

  “Which is?” Tracie had her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised.

  And so I told her about Caroline and the salon. And she took it remarkably well. At least I think she did. She didn’t actually say anything at all. She waited until I’d finished, flipped the switch, and shaved my head.

  While she was working, Caroline showed up. I didn’t hear her over the loud buzz, but Jessica must’ve let her in, because when I looked up she was standing in the archway to the kitchen. And boy, did she look mad.

  “Susan? What happened to your hair?”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, over the angry hum.

  “I came to give you a ride.”

  “AJ’s picking me up.”

  Tracie flipped off the clippers and began to brush loose bits of hair off of me.

  “Did you do that to her?” Caroline demanded, turning on Tracie. I wondered if she even realized that was her other daughter standing there. As far as I knew, they hadn’t seen each other since that one Christmas Eve. When Tracie didn’t answer her, she switched back to me. “I just spent a small fortune getting that miserable hair fixed.”

  “I know, but it all broke off when I tried to brush it.” How could she care about her money so much when my hair had looked so bad? For about the millionth time since Caroline had come back into my life, tears sprang to my eyes.

  “And what are you wearing, Susan?” she asked.

  “I decided to go with my regular clothes after all.”

  “What about the suit I bought you?”

  “I told you I had something to wear.”

  “I was hoping you’d changed your mind.”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  I noticed Jessica had totally disappeared and Tracie slipped out of the kitchen fast, leaving me alone, facing the enemy. I shook my bangs into my face for protection but nothing happened. What was left of them lay in piles on the floor.

  “I can do what I want,” I said, sounding like a two-year-old.

  “Susan, tell me you don’t want the suit. Say you don’t want your hair done. But don’t let me waste my time and money on you.”

  “I did want my hair done. You’re not listening to me. It broke off when I brushed it.” I didn’t mention the flat iron since I was pretty sure that was part of the problem. “Besides, you’ve wasted a big ten minutes on me,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Look, you may think you’re my mother, but Tracie’s right. You’ve never acted like one before, so you can’t just waltz in here demanding all sorts of things.”

  “Demanding? All I’ve done is give you things since I moved to Victoria.”

  She didn’t get it, and I didn’t think she ever would. At that moment I could see exactly where Tracie was coming from. How could a woman who let her daughters get away from her for ten years suddenly become a mother? She couldn’t.

  “You asked me what I wanted before,” I said, softly. “And I didn’t answer because I’m not exactly sure. But I do know I can’t do this instant mother-daughter stuff.”

  “So…what?” she asked, her body visibly tensing. “You don’t want to see me anymore?”

  “No. I do. I want to see you. But maybe we can be friends for a while first?”

  “Friends?”

  “This relationship thing isn’t working that well,” I explained. My stomach was really churning now, but I kept going. “It’s just…it’s a lot to take in, having you here suddenly. Maybe we could get to know each other a little bit more before I have to start thinking of you as my mom or something.”

  Caroline stood there looking at me like I was speaking a foreign language. It was as if she didn’t really understand what I was saying. It’s not like I was being really clear or anything. But I wasn’t totally ready to give up on her either.

  “Like with the suit…”

  “What about it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Never mind.”

  She sighed. “I just wanted to buy you something nice to wear.”

  “I know. And it’s really nice if you work in a bank. I mean, it’s from Anne Taylor. I’m thirteen, not twenty-five. I don’t have a job.” She stared at me and then we both laughed a little. “Also,” I said, getting serious again, “I’m not some doll for you to dress up. You missed that part of my life.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’m painfully aware of that.”

  We stood there in silence.

  “The thing is,” I said after a while, “it’s like…on the one hand, you want me to be your daughter, but you also treat me like a grown-up, which I’m not.”

  “I thought that’s what teenagers wanted,” Caroline said.

  “We do. Sort of. I mean, yeah, but I’m not interested in grown-up stuff, or their clothes. Like…when we get together, we always do what you want to do. You don’t even ask me. I mean…fancy restaurants with confusing valets and too many forks? And sushi? Kinda not my scene. Can’t we just have something easy like a pizza and a DVD at your house some time?”

  Caroline nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

  “And you sent me a bottle of Prosecco.”

  “What?” she asked. “When?”

  “In that gift basket.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. And I get that it was probably a mistake, but sending me a gift basket is totally something you’d do for a client, not a kid. It was delicious, but kind of weird.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I guess.” She paused, like she was reviewing what she’d learned, and then said, “Okay…so…no suits, pizza instead of sushi, definitely nix the gift baskets, especially ones with wine. Anything else?”

  I shrugged. “Well, there is one more thing you need to know,” I told her, taking advantage of the moment.

  “Only one?” she asked, still smiling.

  I laughed. “Well, one important thing.”

  “What�
��s that?”

  “Unless I’m in trouble, no one calls me Susan,” I said. “I go by Suze now.”

  She nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  Tracie stuck her head into the kitchen. “Amanda’s dad is at the door and he wants to talk to you, Suze. He says it’s an emergency.”

  Chapter 33

  Steve handed me Amanda’s laptop and our folder of notes. “Can’t she go to the hospital after our presentation?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “Suze, her hand is the size of a softball and it’s already turning blue. She needs an X-ray.”

  “But you said it’s just a finger, right? She could tape it up like she did last year during the baseball season. She’s tough. I can’t do this without her.”

  He grabbed me in a bear hug and ruffled what was left of my hair. “You’ll be great,” he said. “You can tell her all about it tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “I really gotta go. Leigh’s in the car with Amanda, and you know how bossy she is. She gave me two minutes, and she’s probably timing me. Good luck!”

  I watched him run down the stairs, leaving me all alone.

  “Well, that settles that,” I said. “What should we watch on TV? Anyone up for a pizza?”

  “Susan,” Caroline said. “I mean, Suze, you don’t have time for pizza. We need to leave.”

  “Are you crazy?” I asked her. “I’m not going without Amanda.”

  “Of course you are,” she said.

  “Suze,” Jessica tried.

  I held my hands up, palms out. “Don’t waste your breath,” I told anyone and everyone. I collapsed on the couch and flipped on the TV. Too early for my game show. I’d have to watch a sitcom. Which one? Didn’t matter.

  “Listen,” Caroline said. I ignored her. Jessica plopped down next to me on the couch. Caroline tried again. “Get your coat.”

  “I told you all, I’m not going without her.” I flipped channels. There wasn’t anything good on. What a drag. I pulled the fuzzy yellow blanket over me and settled in for a long, boring night.

  I guess they could tell I meant business because Tracie disappeared into our room, and after a minute, Caroline retreated to the kitchen and I could smell coffee. How weird. She was apparently making herself at home. I wondered if she’d bake a cake next. Probably not. She was much more likely to have one delivered from some upscale bakery.