Loved By Levi

Twenty

Levi

"What do you think? I looked up a bunch of pictures before I did it, so hopefully it's what you wanted!" My heart sunk a little bit looking at the hairdresser's sweet, optimistic expression in the mirror. 

"It's great, thanks." I stood up to get out of the direct range of her blue eyes. The two-toned purple eyeshadow she had on was pretty, but it made her seem way too intense. An intense gaze was the absolute last thing I needed at that point. 

The second I looked down at the beige tile I wished I'd just stayed in my seat to compliment her work a little more. The black vinyl chair she'd sat me in upon my entrance was surrounded by clumps of the dark curls that used to belong to my head. The piles nearly formed a horseshoe, similar in shape to the slightly longer patch of hair she'd been sweet enough to leave on the top of my noggin. I might as well have been bald everywhere else, though. 

"I'll get you cashed out up front." Judging by her chipper tone I guessed she either hadn't noticed my dismay at the pile on the floor, or didn't care. After giving the remnants of my hair one last forlorn glance, I turned to follow her up to the counter and hand over my ten bucks. 

Even though it was fairly warm outside, the spring air felt cold on my bare head as I stepped through the doors of the only GreatClips in Darnell. I shivered a little bit, not sure if it really was because of the cool air or if my body was trying to shake some sense back into itself. Reaching up to touch my head, I figured it was more about the sense. 

Boy, she sure took it short. 

I was glad she'd at least tried to put some sort of style into it, though, instead of shaving me completely bald. I knew my first haircut as a Marine would turn out a lot worse. 

What was her name, again? Maria? Maybe I should go back in and thank her for that. 

On my way out the door I'd heard her chirp something about having fun as a Marine. Was that really the kind of thing people were going to tell me every time I got a haircut for the next twenty years? Because if it was, I wasn't so sure I wanted to join anymore. As dumb as it was, if a single well-meant comment could make me so uncomfortable, how in the hell was I going to deal with the people that glared at me when I went out in public in my cammies? Or the ones who called me a bastard for killing people for fun? 

I knew things like that would happen. For one, my Uncle Gary had mention it from time to time in his war stories. Plus, I'd seen it happen. It was sickening, but a real concern for me. 

I'd never been good at being the center of attention. Nobody had ever treated me as anything but a nuisance growing up. I was used to fading into the background, which was why I might make a good Marine while out in the desert, but a horrible one on American soil. And like it or not, Marines spent a lot more time in the Americas than anybody realized. The chance of me actually getting deployed to a major combat zone as infantry was around twenty percent. 

Judging from what the recruiter had told me, after MEPS I'd be shipped out to San Diego for three months for recruit training, then to combat school, probably in Oklahoma. After that it was off to Military Occupational Specialty school wherever they decided to send me. 

I'd walked all the way back to Mylee's little apartment before I knew it. Neither her car nor Camille's was in the driveway, but thankfully she'd given me the spare key when her roommate wasn't looking. It was pretty obvious to both of us that I wasn't exactly welcome in her world, but Mylee had surprised me by telling her to suck it up since it would only be until I got back on my feet. 

Watching her stand up to the girl who had spent the last several years bullying Mylee into doing her bidding had formed me with a warm, fuzzy feeling I couldn't quite find the words to describe. It felt kind of like watching the little sister I never had take her first steps towards independence, but at the same time the idea of Mylee thinking of me as a big brother made me want to puke. It was definitely a weird feeling, one I hadn't bothered to try and explain to her for fear of sounding like a perverted moron. 

Once inside I sat gingerly on the cool leather couch and pulled up Craigslist on my phone, not sure if I wanted to look for apartments or jobs. 

Not only had I been stripped of my hair that day, but I'd had a lot of the false confidence I'd invented for myself snipped away, too. If I couldn't even handle something as small as a sweet good luck wish on my future with the corps, was I really cut out for it? I felt pathetic, but it was a real, burning question in the back of my cold, bald head.