Wednesday, August 20, 2008

bloodlet

when i was a little kid i loved my barber
mr.gray
and i mean loved
where some kids might cry and wine and struggle
like they're going to the doctor or their first day of school
i gladly hopped in the big green car
and smiled the whole 2 miles to the beachfront where mr gray had his shop
he was a really old man
gray hair on head, knuckles and in ears
and wore spectacles (opposed to glasses which sound too young for what they were)
and he was always smiling ear to ear
he'd hug me i'd hug him he'd hug my mom
and then he'd pick me up and zoom me into the red airplane kids seat in the front window
that looked out to a prehistoric themed miniature golf course
he and my mom would talk and i would just sit
smitten
waiting to for the moment i could look in the mirror and smile as wide as mr gray
only with fewer teeth
and then after he'd zoom me out of the airplane seat he'd give me some candy
never just one piece and always the good stuff
rich people at halloween candy
not the gross clumped hard candy that littered my family's coffee table my entire childhood
chocolates
and then it'd be a goodbye hug and a jump back in the big green car
and back home
happy
and neatly groomed
and this is how it was for many years

and then one day i got in the big green car
seatbelt and smile on
and we started driving
but we didn't make the turn we needed to
to get to mr gray
and i panicked a little
and questioned my mom
and she didn't respond
and we parked at a little shop next to a mcdonalds and my mom opened my door
and lead me into someone elses barber shop
this shop was nothing like mr grays
it was full of junk
literally junk
garbage hung on the wall pretending to be art
something that looked like a flattened beehive dangled from a single bent nail barely keeping itself in the ceiling
newspapers and old books were scattered not just on the table
but on the floor as well
it smelled like my neighbors van (which i used to play in because it had a cb radio)
of heavy aftershave and stale cigarettes
and then there she was
her real name never made it to my vocabulary
a small chinese woman...well short not small
hefty and much older than mr gray
she walked hunched over like a t rex or a pregnant woman with back pains
her glasses were at least an inch thick
and her hands were filthier than mine on even my funnest days
i had to leave
i turned into that kid
that crying and screaming and begging to leave kid
"where is mr gray" i spat out in between sobs
"i don't want her to touch me"
and my mother corrected me "don't be rude" and the lady just watched on
and brushed away some hairs from the seat and motioned me to come over
i did
i listened to my mom
she had never failed me before
but now everything was about to change
if the shop itself smelled like death
then this woman smelled like death's stinkier friend that he hangs out with to make him smell better
she shuffled around me
dragging papers and empty soda cans under her feet
scissors never stopping
caution flying with my hairs out the door
and as quick as she started she stopped
and my mom paid up
and we were outside
without me ever catching a glance at my new do
my mom took me to the mcdonalds next door to buy me a hot fudge sundae
which she figured would help the blow not be so harsh
when she let it be known to me that mr gray was dead
and not only was he dead
but he had committed suicide
and it was a new word and new feelings
and then i rubbed my head
and started to cry

my haircut felt awful

in time my mom continued bringing my brother and i to the lady who we named
the butcher
she had a way of cutting the back of your hair to a point
that felt like it cut you when you rubbed it
time after time we fought our mom
"she digs in the trash, she smells like roadkill please don't take us there!"
but the price was right and ice cream sundaes were right next door so the hate wouldn't last beyond the parking lot
my mom finally stopped taking us to the butcher when one early morning while at the beach my mom herself witnessed the butcher literally digging in a trashcan
that guilt got us the big stuff
dairy queen

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