Soon I found myself sitting in Julia’s chair with my entire head wrapped in foil.
Julia was the manager of Violet Hair Salon and had been there ever since she graduated beauty school. That was how I met her, I came in one day a frazzled mess because my cheap and stubborn self used an at-home coloring kit for my hair and turned it bright orange. She threatened me that day that if I even so much as looked at a box of hair color in the store again she would shave my head. We’d been best friends ever since.
The ambiance in Violet was so soothing and relaxing, and the décor was amazing and extremely eye catching. Each hairdresser’s station had a deep violet metal rolling tool chest for storage. Such a unique idea—who knew that tool chests could be used for other things besides storing tools?
“Your hair is going to look absolutely amazing with mahogany highlights. Against your chestnut hair, I’ll be totally jealous. Although I really wish you would let me give you a decent cut, something new and fun.” Jules knew she was pushing it but often suggested cutting off my hair. It stopped just in the middle of my back, and a few layers and a trim was all that I was ever willing to do. Having to be at work at five a.m. every morning, it usually ended up in a ponytail or tucked into a hat on any given day. So I didn’t see the need to cut it in a style that would require me to make a conscious effort to style it every morning, especially when I rolled into work half asleep anyway.
With my hair draped over the shampoo bowl and my neck uncomfortably resting on that pesky indention in the basin, I tried to relax my nerves but when the curvature of your neck doesn’t quite lay right it’s hard not to tense up. The water was just the right temperature, though, as Julia ran her fingers through my thick strands of hair.
“I think I’m having second thoughts on you running off to Oregon for a week. I mean who will I hang out with? I’ll have Eden withdrawals,” Julia whined as she shut off the water valve and draped a towel over my sopping wet hair.
It was hard for me not to literally roll my eyes at her and her uncanny ability to whine. “Girl, please, you can hang out with Chloe while I’m gone.”
She wrapped the towel around my head like a turban and pointed her finger instructing me to go back and sit in her chair so she could start snipping.
“Chloe ran off with the mailman.” My eyes met hers in the mirror that was before us and I quirked a brow. “No, really, she ran off with the guy who comes in and delivers our mail. Apparently they’ve had a fling for a while now. Packed up her kids and left her husband. Walter, her husband, comes in every other day to see if we’ve heard from her. Sad story,” she reiterated while shaking her head, then grabbing her comb in one hand and placing the other at the crown of my head to try and get all the tangles out. I cringed every single time she did this; she had no compassion for those who are tender-headed and I was one of the worst. Growing up, I cried every morning when my mom brushed my hair before school. It got to the point where I had to sleep with my hair braided just to keep it from getting tangled while I slept.
I looked down at the light violet-colored cape that was draping my lap and bit my lip as she quickly finished dragging the comb through my locks. A sigh of relief was released when she finally finished, but it didn’t last long as she proceeded to grab the scissors and began her assault on my hair. I was always nervous going in there but I shouldn’t be, Julia knew what she was doing and always did a fabulous job.
“Wow, her and her husband had been married for quite some time, too. Well, it’s not like I’ll be gone forever, it’s only going to be seven days, I think you’ll survive.” But the question was, would I survive? Sure, I’d seen my parents over the years, but it was always when they flew out to see me. Could I really make it out unscathed after sleeping under my parents’ roof for seven days and six consecutive nights? I could just see it now, my mother bombarding me with her numerous inane questions about when would I going to get married? When would I finally settle down? I stared down at the mass amount of my hair on the floor in front of me and wondered how I would survive a week in my parents’ house without wanting to strangle them, and how I would survive talking to Baylor about why I moved away without wanting to strangle him. Fifteen years was a long time to not step foot onto Oregon soil, and all of a sudden it didn’t seem like it had been enough.
As I stepped off the plane at my gate in Eugene, Oregon, I wanted to sink to my knees and kiss the solid ground beneath me. I wasn’t the biggest fan of flying to begin with, but when you had such horrible turbulence during an almost three hour flight from Denver to Oregon, I wished I had chosen to make the horrendous thirty-eight hour car ride instead.
Figuring that I would look pretty ridiculous if I actually attempted those actions, I decided to forgo my pleasantries with the state of Oregon in order to retrieve my luggage from the baggage claim.
I watched the carousel move along with other people’s suitcases, waiting for mine to come through on the conveyor belt. Once every single item was claimed, it was apparent that I, as well as a handful of men, wouldn’t be getting our belongings today.
The three gentlemen and I shuffled our feet and grumbled under our breath all the way to the airline ticket counters.
“Left behind in Denver, you can retrieve your belongings in the morning,” the agent informed the four of us.
Great, all I had with me now was my purse and my laptop that was used for my carryon. My visit was already off to a grand start.
Walking along the tiled floor, past baggage claim where I was just minutes earlier, I heard a screech which caused me to stop in my tracks. “Eden!” The excitement in my mother’s voice was astounding.
I turned around and took in every inch of Bette Richardt’s appearance.
My parents had visited me several times since I’d lived in Nashville, but she had never looked happier than she did as she stood before me.
As I moved closer her smiled beamed even brighter, making the crow’s feet around her eyes more apparent. It was then I took in how much gray had taken over in her once-chestnut hair.
“Momma!” I exclaimed as I threw my arms around her neck and held on tight. In that moment, mother and daughter reuniting and clinging to one another, I was glad to be home. She released her clutch and allowed some space between us, but remained holding onto my hand and took her time to glance over my entire body.
“Eden, baby, you look absolutely great. Oh, I’m so glad that you’re home. I know you told me that you were coming but it had been so long, I didn’t want to get excited until I actually saw you here.” A wave of guilt consumed me. It wasn’t my parents’ fault for what happened, yet I was punishing them because of my naivety. She looked at the ground around me, and then brought her eyes back up to mine, “Where are your bags, dear?”
Releasing a deep sigh, “Back in Denver, I can come back tomorrow morning to pick them up.”
She braced her arm around my back and held onto my shoulder as she ushered me out of the airport, going on about how excited my dad was going to be to see me and how I could borrow one of her nightgowns to sleep in.
I wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise as she didn’t let up a minute until we pulled into the driveway of my childhood home. Even though I had changed, it had not. I had to chuckle because even the same floral patterned furniture still graced the formal living room.
I could just picture Dean jumping up and down on that couch like it was yesterday. My mom harped on us time and time again for walking through the living room with our shoes on. Even though no one ever used it and was more for decoration, she just couldn’t bear the thought of mud and dirt being tracked in throughout the room. And then one day Dean threw off his sneakers at the front door and took a flying leap onto that couch. Even in his bare feet he knew my mom would’ve had his ass if she saw him defacing her precious expensive piece.