FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #9

It was the thing he'd always loved about her. Though the average man would likely find it a turn-off, Kate's hair had captivated Jesse from the beginning. It seemed as if it didn't even belong to her but was instead a self-sustaining force or perhaps in a symbiotic relationship with her, the mass of thick, heavy curls feeding off her energy and giving in return the appearance of an unmatched vitality, the illusion of a wellspring of youth. 

Jesse didn't have a particularly romantic story to tell of his first encounter with Kate and the hair. Kate was in the same bar for happy hour, sipping a half-price drink with coworkers, all still in their business casual. Her hair defied the formality of dress. It was pinned against its will in a loose bun; some ringlets had managed to escape and sat mockingly on the collar of her shirt.The hair's natural state, it seemed to Jesse, was to radiate spectacularly from all directions from the woman's scalp. 

He had been staring, not so much at the woman as at her hair. He hadn't even realized the hair had a face until he felt it looking at him. It was a friendly face, nicely colored with an awkward, yet welcoming smile, often seen on the faces of professional-age, single women. The face and the hair were a person's, and Jesse watched this person, her hair, face, and body, walk to the bar for another drink. He asked his friends if any would like another drink while he was heading to the bar. No, they were all finished. It was, after all, an unspoken professional code to have only one drink at happy hour. 

He walked up to the woman, trying to direct his focus to her face and asked if she'd like a drink. He wasn't particularly smooth in his advance. He nervously pressed his middle finger to his temple, as if hiding some deformity. But, Kate wasn't the sort of woman to turn down any advance;  they didn't come often.The story gets boring from there. Jesse and the Kate followed the codes of modern day courtship, with restaurant dating, movies, and sex after the fifth date. He should have guessed she had issues. No one had ever gone on five dates with Jesse. Usually, he had trouble getting one. He'd only gotten sex from drunk women who'd likely have slept with anyone, but he was always sure to get himself drunk, too, so it wasn't creepy.

Sex with Kate was good only when she'd let her hair flow freely. Jesse would hold tightly to those curls of life and close his eyes, pretending to make love to them alone. But, Kate didn't often let her hair down. She was ashamed of it. That body of life was wasted on her. She complained that curly hair automatically conjured images of fat women, that it can't be accepted in the corporate world. Jesse wished for the confidence to reproach the careless Kate. Instead he could only give a throaty, cough-like laugh and look awkwardly away as she whined about her hair. Jesse wanted to weep sometimes when Kate would punish it by crushing it between hot plates to straighten it. 

Kate tried everything to separate herself from her hair. She'd hidden it, flattened it, twisted it, threatened to cut it. Maybe the hair had too much power for Kate. She was probably feeling overshadowed by it, jealous even. It was because of this separateness between Kate and the hair that she'd felt distance between herself and Jesse. She'd started out lightly asking questions like "why do you love me?" but progressed into a self-pitying annoyance. "Tell me you love me."  "Is there some other woman?" "Why don't you look me in the eye when we make love?"

Jesse had no clever or soothing responses to offer. But, he had a plan. He could kill two birds with one stone. He would take that hair, and with it, her hatred of it. He could never break up with the hair, but breaking up with Kate was nothing. She had fallen asleep on her couch during some cheesy chick flick. He walked to the kitchen for the shears and cut quietly, gently those curls from Kate's head. He freed them one by one, and there were many. At first, he'd been afraid; those curls looked so alive that they might actually feel pain. But, Kate hadn't stirred after the first few, and Jesse managed the courage to continue. It took half an hour, but he got it all. He gathered it and used an elastic band to hold it all together. 

He never returned her calls, and though he feared a lawsuit or criminal charge, his only punishment came in the form of terrible wailing voice mails. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" "How could you have done this?" "I look like a freak." There were also some awkward run-ins with Kate's friends and colleagues, some outright confrontational, most just sneering whisperers. But, Jesse got through it. 

Now, he's sure only a few remember. But, he does. That hair, which he eventually dubbed Shanti, lies by him on his pillow. Sometimes it loses its shape; the curls fall flat. But, he shampoos and conditions it carefully, a routine he learned from Kate, and the perfect curls return. He sometimes wonders if Kate has yet created another spectacular head of hair like Shanti. Is it some other man's now? Either way, Jesse wouldn't be jealous. No one can take Shanti away from him.

back to Contest #9