Family Comes First

Chapter 23: A Hairy Situation

I did not wake up when Jimmy's alarm went off. He must have sedated me too much, like he accidentally did the first night I was here.

Jimmy was shaking my shoulder and running his fingers through my hair. He was treating me like I was fragile. Did he feel sorry for drugging me last night? He did believe that it was what was best for me.

I struggled to open my eyes. Jimmy was leaning over me. He had on his work clothes and was still wearing his plaid jacket. A smile crept across his face.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said.

He leaned down to kiss me. My mind was running at a slow pace, so I did not realize what he was doing until he pulled away. I opened my mouth to speak, but only a pathetic noise came out.

"Don't worry," he said. "You get to sleep in. I want you to rest. You can do your chores later in the day. Understand?"

I tried to say yes, but I could not get the word out. I settled for nodding my head. Jimmy kissed my forehead.

"That's my girl," he said.

He left the bedroom and I could not keep my eyes open any longer.

I slept for a few more hours and laid in bed awake for a while. All of my muscles ached and my head throbbed so cleaning was difficult. I focused mostly on making dinner. I wanted to make sure that it was delicious as an apology for my outburst last night. I even made a batch of cookies to show how sorry I was.

"Wow, this house smells good," Charles said as soon as he walked through the door. Jimmy and Tommy walked in and took in a deep breath.

"Thank you," I said.

The heat rushed up to my cheeks when Jimmy wrapped his arms around my waist. He smelled of sweat and dirt, but it was a smell that I had familiarized myself with. He nuzzled his face into my neck.

"It smells delicious," he said.

"Go wash up before it gets cold," I said.

"Of course," he said. "I don't want to miss it."

Jimmy went upstairs, and a few minutes later everyone was sitting around the table. We passed around bowls and plates of food. I was glad that everyone was enjoying it.

"When are you going to cut your hair?" Charles asked, looking over at Jimmy.

"What?" he asked before shovelling a forkful of food into his mouth.

"When are you going to cut your hair?" Charles repeated. "It's touching your shoulders now."

"He's right," Tommy said. "You're looking like a girl."

"It's soon going to be as long as Juliet's."

I giggled. Charles and Tommy were laughing too. Jimmy scowled as he continued to eat.

"Can we leave my hair alone?" Jimmy asked.

"I'm telling you that I don't know why you don't cut it," Charles said. "It's odd and gets in the way. Tommy's right. Only girls have long hair."

"Well, I like it," Jimmy said.

"Trying to hide your scar?" Tommy asked.

"The scar is on my face, you idiot," Jimmy said. "If I was going to hide it, I would not use my hair."

"Juliet," Charles said. I was happy just to be listening. I did not want to be part of this conversation, but I knew I should stick to Jimmy's side. He had looked up from his plate and was staring at me. "What do you think about his hair?"

"I think that it is fine," I said.

"Do you really?" Tommy asked. "We're saying it is okay to disagree with him."

"Leave her alone!" Jimmy snapped.

"Loosen up, Jim," Tommy said.

Jimmy dropped his fork. His chair screeched as he stood up. He stormed up the stairs. I wanted to get up and follow him, but I knew I had to clean up dinner.

Charles and Tommy continued to talk like Jimmy had never left. After they had finished, Charles went into the living room. Tommy grabbed a handful of cookies before he went up to his room. I tried to clean dinner up as fast as I could so that I could see Jimmy.

I dried my hands on the dish rag before I hurried upstairs. The bedroom door was closed. I peered inside to see that the room was empty. The bathroom door was closed, so I tapped my knuckles against the door.

"Jimmy?"

The door was unlocked, and I stepped in. Jimmy had a tight grip on the edge of the sink and his knuckles were turning white. He was staring at himself in the mirror.

"Are you alright?" I asked. I took a small step toward him.

"Tell me what you honestly think," he said. "I don't want you to worry about upsetting me. I just need to know what you think."

He was still upset about his hair. I've heard Jimmy and Tommy joke and tease each other, but he has never had a reaction like this before. I wondered why he was so upset about something as simple as the length of his hair.

"I like it," I said. "It's your hair, Jimmy. You can do whatever you want with it."

"Would you have been with a guy like this?" he asked.

"What?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Before we got married," he said, "would you have been with a guy that looks like this? Would you choose to be with a guy that looks like me?"

"Yes, but why does that matter?"

Jimmy opened up one of the cupboards under the sink, and he frantically was searching for something. He slammed his hand down on the counter. A pair of shiny metal scissors sat on top of the counter. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

"I want you to cut it off," he said.

"Jimmy, I don't know how to cut hair," I said.

"It's not hard, and I'm not picky. Charles and Tommy do it all the time. Just cut it off."

"Really?"

"Well," he hesitated. "I don't want it all off. Not as short as Tommy's, but shorter than this."

I picked the scissors up from the counter and stared down at them. I looked over at Jimmy to see that he was staring at me with his big soft brown eyes. I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek.

"Are you sure you want me to?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Do it now before I change my mind."

I picked up the scissors. I bit down on my lip to try and stop my hands from shaking. I did not want to screw this up.

I cut his hair off little by little. I was worried about screwing it up and not being able to fix it. Jimmy did not say anything, and I was focused on what I was doing.

Once I was finished, the bathtub was full of Jimmy's dark hair. I was pretty proud of myself for getting it even. It was short, but not as short as Tommy's or Charles'.

"Done," I said.

Jimmy stood and went straight to the mirror. He was pulling at the ends of his hair and running his fingers through it. My heart pounded as I feared I cut it too short.

"How is it?" I asked.

He turned around to look at me. The first thing that came to mind was Tommy talking about Jimmy's scar. The line of ripped torn flesh seemed to stand out much more. His eyes were even larger. He no longer had the curtain of hair to hide his features.

"I like it," he said.

I let go of the nervous breath that I was holding onto. I made him happy and that is all that matters.