The Woman Who Fell To Earth

Chapter 5

Moon

David dozed peacefully as the television ran, Arthur's eyes moving from the screen to David and back. Lazily, David reached into the pile of scarves and accessories she had stacked next to the sofa and pulled out the toupee. She pulled her blonde hair back severely, and stuck the pelt on top of her head. She studied her reflection in the television glare for a while, then removed the hair and placed it on Arthur's thinning scalp. She studied him in it, brushing his wisps of hair above and behind his ears.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

Arthur knitted his eyebrows together. "Uh, yes."

"Come here." She stood up and Arthur followed her to the bathroom. "Turn around," she ordered. Arthur faced her. She removed the hairpiece and tossed it aside. It landed in the tub and became a sleeping ferret. She opened the drawer in the vanity and took out a comb, scissors and electric razor. She carefully trimmed the hair around Arthur's ears and face, then turned him to face the mirror and trimmed away at the back of his head.

"You'll look much better without all this string," she said, plugging in the razor.

Arthur tensed and shut his eyes, but did not move as David buzzed away 42 years of hair growth, down to the scalp. When the buzzing ceased, he opened his eyes. The reflection in the mirror looked ten years younger. He was astonished. "David, oh my God," he said. "I can't believe this. It's so much better."

"Isn't it?" David said, pleased with her results and with Arthur's reaction. "I just knew this would work on you. You look so much younger now. And thinner."

"Wow, they're not even going to recognize me back at work tomorrow." For the first time, Arthur was eager to go to work. Eager for his coworkers to see him, to see the new him.

"What about your wardrobe?" asked David.

"What about my wardrobe?"

"It's a sea of khakis. We must do something about that."

"I'm not wearing a dog collar," Arthur pointed to David's belt, "if that's what you're getting at."

"Nobody is going to ask you to wear a dog collar. Not everyone can pull this off. But you have got to get out of your comfort zone, Art. Take a chance. Take some pride in the way you look, for heaven's sake. It wouldn't kill you to wear a slim pair of black slacks, show off your arse a little."

"My...arse?" Arthur turned his head to look at his backside.

"Yes, Art, your bum." David gave it a good smack. "Girls like that, you know, to see what you've got going on under all that baggy cotton. Contrary to what you may think, wearing form fitting clothes makes you look trimmer, more muscular. Let's show off your physique."

"I don't really have a physique."

"Oh, sure you do. It's just hiding under all this slouchy fabric." She pulled at his flannel shirt. "Now, let's see." She walked back into the living room and searched through the piles of clothing. "I knew I picked these up for a reason." She held up a pair of navy blue men's slacks and a yellow sweater vest. She took these to Arthur's room and tossed them on the bed. She opened the armoire and pulled out a white dress shirt. "Put these on," she ordered.

Arthur did as he was told. David left him no privacy, so he did his best to turn his back to her, to keep her from seeing what she described as his "physique." He was surprised that the pants zipped right up with no struggle and the sweater vest fit snug but not tight. He turned to David. She looked him up and down, walked around him, took his cuff and unbuttoned it, rolled it back twice and did the same with the other sleeve. She stood back and nodded. "That's what I'm talking about," she said triumphantly.