A Hair Raising Story of Passion and Loss.

It's been over six years and I still miss Robert....

In the complicated way of poignant love stories, it all began with Brenda. The children were small, and I was bored. We were in a tight... ridiculously tight... "national security alert" tight...financial situation and I couldn't afford any mistakes. The stress of saving for necessities, let alone frivolity, was taking it's toll. I desperately needed a change. I was frightened, but determined. I saw the ad, in the local Merchandiser, and called the number. I left the children with a neighbor and drove to the address along the main highway leading out of town. It was an old farmhouse, situated next to a trailer park, replacing the cultivated fields or cow barns. I had been told not to knock, just to walk in, and I did. I was greeted by a tall thin woman best described as a red-neck Olive Oil with really bad fashion sense. She gave me exactly what I asked for, and I was home again in less than an hour, exhilarated, and only a few dollars poorer.

Our relationship continued for fourteen years. There were a few really bad times. I'd go home, look in the mirror and cry a river. I'd vow to change. But, I always went back. Her husband joined her in the business for a few years, but the pressure destroyed him. She had young assistants now and then, but they only lasted through a time or two. I never knew what happened to them. I begged, finally convincing Tall One to see her a few times. The price was right, but he had different needs. She moved her "studio" once. For awhile there was fresh paint, and the carpet wasn't stained, but, it always smelled the same, ripe with strong, stale chemicals. She wasn't much for conversation and she rarely smiled. I wondered about her teeth. She'd turn surly if her daughter wandered in. There was a decided lack of maternal instinct. I stayed because I didn't think I had a choice. She knew too much.

And then the day came when she said she was leaving. She could work anywhere, but her husband had to get out. Too much baggage, too many damaging memories. A better climate. I said Goodbye. I was more relieved than I would have imagined. I would have been too weak to end our relationship myself, but I'd been dissatisfied and uninspired for a long time. I thought it would be good to be free.

I had wanted to regroup, weigh my options, start fresh with a new perspective, but, I floundered. Time is relentless and before I knew it, I was desperate. I would let things grow for as long as I could and then I'd take matters into my own hands. But I was unskilled, I didn't have the right "tools", I was afraid I would be humiliated. So I moved from "professional" to "professional". Sometimes paying too much for inferior service. Sometimes leaving with the glimmer of confidence that I'd found a new someone to meet my growing demands, only to be disappointed eventually. There were pretty young blonds with sparkling mirrors and scented candles. There was an old blue rinsed grandma wearing pince nez and too much perfume. I would travel miles to overpriced swanky salons, and walk to dilapidated store fronts along our deteriorating Main street. I was restless. I never stayed at any one place more than a few months.

I was in the midst of a long dry spell. My emotions were out of hand. I was a wreck, and needed badly the fix I had been denied for so long. I stopped on the sidewalk, staring at the homemade cardboard sign in the dirty window and copied down the phone number. That evening I called, and a few days later I walked through Robert's door for the first time.

The tacky furnishings and gaudy decor assaulted my sensibilities. But, I quickly recovered. I'd been in worse places. Brenda's accommodations had been sparse and utilitarian. I stayed, choking back my revulsion in his dusty fake foliage, because he was my last hope. Spinning the sad, sordid tale of his life gone wrong, he worked efficiently. When he handed me some lubricant and a towel and told me finish myself, I knew I had found the answer I'd been searching for. At home the smell of stale tobacco and something I didn't want to think about clung to my clothing, but, the face in the mirror was transformed. It wasn't just his years of experience, or his expertise. Robert was magic, and I was in love.

I'd know right away when it was time to go back. Things wouldn't lay right. There'd be the feeling of loose ends, stray wisps that no one else noticed, but I'd feel keenly. He was always the same. Always sure of his skill. He knew what I needed. He'd always make me finish. But, even as he had renewed the hope in me, he was hopeless, profoundly sad, and, over time I began to sense the underlying sickness.

I missed a rendezvous, I couldn't call to cancel. I left a message apologising and begging for another chance. I never heard again. Shortly thereafter, Robert's handmade sign was replaced by one that read "For Rent". I tried to find him. I left message after message, pleading, until the number was finally disconnected. I still don't know what happened to my dearest, darling, hair stylist.

I have good hair, very forgiving, and it grows out quickly, a blessing and a curse. My daughter recommended Debra, and I've been with her for a few years now. She has a nice shop, two cute dogs, and I'm comfortable there....but, I still miss Robert...