“Sure you can. You can tell me if you want to.”
“Ma and Grammy went out.” Alice snapped the scissors, again and again. Click, click, click. “Ma and Grammy went out to get their hair done.”
“But they’re coming back soon. And I’m here. Clementine’s right downstairs. Maybe you could show me the scarf you’re making for me.”
“It’s finished. It’s done.” Teeth clamped, Alice jabbed the air with the scissors. “I can make one for Chase. All of Reenie’s. All hers, hers, all hers.”
“I’d love to see it. Could I try it on?” With her eyes on Alice’s, Bodine tried another step forward. Just a few more and she’d be close enough to grab Alice’s wrist. She was stronger, quicker, could take the scissors.
“Yes, yes, yes! But I don’t want it.” Alice grabbed her hair with her free hand, pulled viciously.
“Okay, that’s okay. You can…” And she understood. “Your hair? You want to get your hair done like your ma, like Grammy?”
“I don’t want it.” Squeezing her eyes tight, Alice pulled again. “Sir said it’s a sin for a woman to cut her hair, but the doctor said I can say. I can say I don’t want or I do. Which is right? I don’t know!”
“You can say.” Bodine agreed, moving another step forward. “That’s your right. You can say because it’s your hair, Alice.”
“I hate it.”
“Then we can change it so you don’t. We can go get your hair cut, Alice. I’ll take you.”
“Not out there. No, no, not out there.” As she looked at the walls, the doors, her breath came fast. “No, not out there. I can cut it off. I want to cut it off. He can’t stop me if I’m in here, in the home.”
“Oh, the hell with him.” Bodine’s words had Alice’s eyes going wide. “The hell with him, Alice. It’s your hair, isn’t it? Nobody’s going to stop you. But how about I cut it for you?”
“You…” Alice lowered the scissors, stared. “You can do it? You can?”
“Well, you’ll be my first, but I can sure try.” Maybe Bodine’s heart still skipped, but she smiled as Alice meekly held out the scissors.
“How about we set up our salon in the bathroom there? You can sit on the stool. Do you know how short you want it?”
“I don’t like it. I don’t want it. You can cut it.”
Bodine guided Alice to the stool. “I was just thinking, I know this girl and she grew her hair really long, almost as long as you. She grew it long, then cut it because she was donating it to this place that made wigs for women who got sick and lost their hair. If you want to do that, I can look up how it’s done.”
“You send it to a sick girl. Send the hair?”
“Yeah. Would you want to do that?”
“But it’s ugly. Old and ugly.” Tears swam. “Who would want it?”
Hoping to soothe, Bodine ran a hand down the impossible length. “I bet they’d fix it up, make it look nice. I’ll look it up on my phone while you brush out your hair.”
Bodine got a brush, watched Alice frown into the mirror.
Following the instructions, Bodine braided the long, long hair. “I bet there are at least two sick girls who’ll be grateful to you. I’m going to turn you a little now, so you can see from the side. Do you want it this short?” Bodine held a hand to Alice’s mid-back.
“More.”
Bodine climbed up inch by inch until she held the flat of her hand above Alice shoulders, and got a hard nod.
“Okay, let’s see.” She bound both ends with a band, blew out a breath. “I’m nervous. You’re sure about this?”
“I don’t want it.”
“All right then, here we go.” Praying the result wouldn’t send Alice into a rage or into tears, Bodine cut. She clutched the heavy braid as it fell away, held her breath.
Alice just stared at the mirror, eyebrows lowered.
“I can fix it up some, I think. Maybe get Nana’s smaller scissors or…”
Slowly, Alice lifted her hand, pulled her fingers through. “It’s still ugly, but better. It’s cut away, and he can’t stop me. You cut it away, and he can’t stop you. But I don’t know who that is.” She pointed at the reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know.”
Bodine laid the hair aside, set her hands on Alice’s shoulders. “That’s my aunt Alice, who named me.”
Alice’s gaze met hers in the glass, and she smiled a little. “You’re Bodine, because we promised.”
“That’s right. I’ve got this other idea. You know Grammy has some hair dye in her room. How about we color your hair now?”
“Red like Grammy’s? I love Grammy’s hair.”
“Me, too. Let’s color your hair, Alice.”
Now Alice smiled, lips and eyes. “I want that. I want red hair like Grammy’s. You have a red vest. It’s pretty.”
“You like it?” Bodine ran a hand over the red leather vest Jessica had talked her into buying. “You can borrow it sometime if you want.”
“Reenie hates me to borrow her clothes.”
“I don’t mind so much, and I’m offering. Let me go get the dye.”
As a precaution, she took the scissors with her.
She didn’t get much work done, but she’d make up the time. As a hair and makeup consultant, Bodine figured she was in the lower tenth percentile, but she did her best.
Flushed with success, she talked Alice into jeans—a first since her return—a pretty shirt, and her own red vest. She even dug out some earrings.
When Alice stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying herself, Bodine ranked it as one of the best moments of her life.
“I can see me,” Alice said with wonder. “I got old, but I can see me. I can see Alice. Alice Ann Bodine.”
“You look really pretty, too.”
“I was pretty.” Alice lifted a hand to her cheek. “I was really pretty. He took my pretty away. I have some back. I have a little back. I like my hair. I like the red vest to wear, to borrow. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Let’s go show off to Clementine.”
Bodine held out a hand, and though she ducked her head, Alice put hers in it.
Halfway down the stairs, Bodine heard her mother’s voice. So did Alice, as Alice’s hand tightened into a vise on hers.
“I’m going to take this tea up, and have a nap,” Maureen said. “I may go back after dinner, just to help Jessie with this event, but…”
Still pouring the tea, Maureen froze as Bodine led Alice into the kitchen. The hot water spilled over the rim of the cup before Clementine caught it, took the pot.
“Alice.” Tears springing to her eyes, Maureen pressed both hands to her mouth. “Alice. Alice.”
She rushed forward, and though Alice jerked back, went stiff, kept coming until she’d caught Alice in her arms. “Oh, Alice.”
“I didn’t want it. Bodine cut it. A sick girl can have it.”
“Oh, Alice.” Drawing back, Maureen fluffed her fingers through the red hair Bodine had managed to style into an uneven, amateur bob. “I love it. Absolutely love it. I love you.”