The Hairdresser Diaries

Copyright © 2012 by Jessica Miller

All rights reserved. Published by Aperture Press. Name and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Aperture Press, LLC.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information, write to Aperture Press LLC, P.O. Box 6485, Reading, PA 19610 or visit www.AperturePress.net.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First eBook Edition, May 2012

eISBN: 978-0-9850026-7-1

Cover and eBook designed by Jere Stamm.

Contents

Copyright

Title

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

The only way around is through.

-Robert Frost

When I first opened my eyes I looked over at my alarm to see it was only 8:30 a.m. I didn’t have to get up for another two hours. My nose was all stuffed up and I didn’t know why. “I hope I’m not getting sick,” I thought to myself. “Why am I all stuffed up?”

The source of my allergies was staring me in the face. It was the reason I had to take an allergy pill every day, or at least part of the reason. I glared, annoyed, and a pair of green eyes glared right back at me. They didn’t look nearly as annoyed as I was. “Leo, you fat bastard. Get off my bed!”

Leo is my cat. I’m allergic to cats. Although I’m not highly allergic it’s just enough to be annoying. I’m okay if I remember to take my allergy pills—which I normally don’t. I know, why have a cat if you’re allergic? Well, I have a cat because I like cats, end of story.

Leo just lay there staring at me as if he was the king of this house and I was his pet, that I existed only to serve him. He was a big, fat, orange and white tabby cat. He probably weighed about 20 lbs and no, I’m not exaggerating. The thing is that he has character and that’s what I love about him.

I rolled out of bed knowing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep and headed downstairs to make myself some breakfast. I hated Mondays, the start of the work week. Although if I had off Mondays than I’d probably hate Tuesdays just as much.

I work in a local salon about fifteen minutes from my house. I love my job, well, most days. Being a hairdresser definitely has its ups and downs, but for the most part it’s the one thing I love doing most.

I live alone in a nice house in the suburbs, just outside of Reading, Pennsylvania (and it’s pronounced “Red-ing” not “Read-ing”, people always mess that up). It was my parent’s house. My dad left it to me and my brother when he moved out. The house originally belonged to my grandparents; it was paid for when my parents moved in. So for me, never having to worry about paying a mortgage was nice. On my salary I would never be able to afford a house.

I have an older brother, Tyler and a younger sister, Trina. My parents are Terry and Tina, and I’m Tatum. I know, enough with the T’s already. I plan to break that cycle when I have kids. I had pretty great parents and grew up in a loving home where I was well taken care of. My dad works in construction and my mom was a school teacher. We weren’t rich by most standards, but we did well.

My dad was always good with money and because of the fact that my grandparents gave my parents this house as a wedding present my parents were able to provide us with everything we needed plus a little extra here and there. They never over spoiled us though. My dad always said he wanted us to learn the value of a dollar. At eight years old, the value of a dollar to me meant I could get a couple lollipops and some nickel gum.

When my dad wasn’t around my mom sometimes would give in and buy us stuff we didn’t need, only because we would whine for hours saying we would die if we didn’t have it and it was what everyone else had. Now that I look back on it, I think she did it just to shut us up but we were very lucky and had a good childhood growing up.

Things changed when my mom died ten years ago. I was 15, Tyler was 18, and Trina was only 3. Losing my mom was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through. As hard as it was for me, it was even harder on my dad. He was with her when she died.

It was a car accident. Another car had hit them on the passenger side. It was the other car’s fault but that doesn’t change anything.

After my mom’s death, Tyler, being the oldest, tried to keep things together. He made sure I got up for school on time and took care of Trina on the days my dad couldn’t get out of bed, which were most days for the first couple of months.

Watching my dad suffer so much was hard for me. I think it was harder than losing my mom. With my mom I knew she was at peace. But with my dad, to have to see him miserable everyday over losing the love of his life, well, it was just a constant reminder of the pain we all suffered. Having to see him like that made me never to want to fall in love. I figured if I don’t, I’ll never get hurt or have to go through what my dad did if I lost that person.

My dad eventually got better, well, better at hiding how he was really feeling. Slowly I think he came to realize that he couldn’t spend the rest of his life mourning his wife’s death. He had a family to take care of.

When I turned 18 my dad decided to move to a different state to get a new start, thinking going somewhere else with less memories might help. I didn’t want to leave. This was my home, this was where I grew up. Since I was 18, legally I was on my own, but to my dad I was still his baby girl. My brother, Tyler, managed to convince my dad that he would stay with me and keep an eye out and it made my dad feel a little better about leaving me here.

So he took my sister, Trina, and moved to Arizona. Tyler and I would visit them for time to time, but they never came here, it still was too much for my dad. It has been a few years since then and now, for the first time, he’s decided to make a trip back home.

They are going to come visit me in a couple of weeks. I’m ecstatic.

After finishing my breakfast I decided to get an early jump on my day. I hopped in the shower, got ready for work and headed out to do a little shopping—I had plenty of time before I had to be at work.

The shopping didn’t take long and I ended up getting to work twenty minutes early anyway. Since I had time I decided to head out back where most of the stylists hang and smoke when they’re not busy or taking a break.

“Hey Peyton,” I said as I stepped out back.

“Sup.” Smoke curled from her lips.

“Nothing. I Went shopping for this weekend.”

“Ooh let me see,” Peyton cheered. We weren’t doing anything special this weekend but I liked to have new clothes to wear when I went out.

Peyton was one my best friends. We first met in beauty school and hit it off right away—though she turned my blond hair blue the second day. I just told her, “Let’s throw some black in it and go for the punk rock look.” I wasn’t a natural blond so I knew trying to get the blue out of my hair would just destroy it. I figured what the hell, something different. It was beauty school anyway and I was bound to change my hair sooner or later.

I thought at first Peyton was just being nice to me to make up for the fact that she turned my hair blue, but after several reassurances that I was fine with it, she thought I was pretty cool and we’ve been best friends ever since. Although, I did not let her touch my hair for about a year, until she got more practice.

After graduation, we told each other we would only go to a salon where they would hire both of us. At first, most places would only offer one of us the position, so we’d turn them down. This is how we ended up here, at Studio 10 Hair Salon. It was the first place that offered us both a position so we jumped on it. It was a decent sized salon: twelve stations, four dryer chairs, and four shampoo bowls. We had our own back room that doubled as a breakroom and a small private section out back for smokers.

We had fifteen stylists all together. Some of the older stylist only worked a few days during the week in the daytime so they shared their stations with the girls who only worked at night. I got along with most of the girls I worked with, but not all. Let’s not forget this is a salon and girls can be chatty.

I showed Peyton what I had bought: two shirts, a dress, and some shoes.

“I’m so borrowing that dress,” Peyton said when I held it up for her. She reached for it greedily.

“After I wear it first,” I said snatching it back. “You busy today?”

“Not really, you?”

“I have to check the schedule, but I don’t think so. I need my roots done though before this weekend.” I was back to being a blonde now and when my roots came in my hair looked dirty. I was a natural brunette, almost black. I had cut my hair several times since beauty school. I went through different phases, but now my hair is long, half way down my back, and I refuse to cut it.

“If you got time I can do it today,’’ Peyton offered.

“I’ll check in a minute,” I said.

“Check to see if you have time to do mine too,” she said as I turned to head back inside.

I put my clothes back in the bags and walked out front to my station to set everything up then I checked my schedule. I had some openings throughout the day so I compared it to Peyton’s to see when the best time was for both of us to do our hair. We both had a few clients first thing and a big opening at the end of our day. I scribbled out the last two hours so we could do each other’s color.

I still had about ten minutes before my first client so I went back outside to sit and talk with Peyton. “I marked out time for both of us at the end of the night,” I told her.

“I think I want to do something different,” Peyton said as she twisted a cigarette in her hands. Her eyes darted up as though she could see her own hair.