Baby You're a Rich Man

Nine

            Paul had shaved again, and was now rubbing his now-smooth chin almost subconsciously. John stole a quick glance; the slight movement was proving to be somewhere between annoying and distracting.

            “Today you may go to different activities. I encourage you all to get to know each other – the more souls you encounter, the closer you are to your inner – realization,” George said, stumbling on the last word. He was still hesitant to mention inner souls.

            “Remember, there’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be. It’s easy.”

            There was a stir around the dining room as people stood up. Paul had gotten used to these strange people. Although many of them had relaxed on hair and shaving, some men even growing a faint beard, the dark sunglasses were ever-present.

            At first he had burned with curiosity to know who they were, but when he finally had the chance to realize Average Joe’s dream and meet a famous person; he realized he was just fine staying at the music activity. After all, John was much more interesting.

            Paul realized Ringo had stopped following him towards the middle clearing to the rack of instruments a few moments too late, his thoughts clouding his observational skills.

            Paul raised an eyebrow at Ringo, who still hadn’t caught up, but was instead facing the other way, up the hill where a few people were gathered.

            “Erm, I thought I’d try hairdressing today,” Ringo said.

            “Hairdressing?”

            The thought of Ringo teasing and blow-drying hair seemed so ludicrous that he let out a little chuckle.

            Ringo frowned at him and Paul sensed an oncoming storm of acerbic replies, so he composed himself.

            “When have you ever shown an interest in hairdressing?” Paul asked.

            “Jus’ wanted to try somethin’ new,” Ringo muttered dangerously.

            Paul shook his head. “Whatever suits ye, mate.”

            Ringo stood waiting for Paul to leave properly and get to the music area before starting to scale up the hill.

            He hoped Mo hadn’t chosen this day to skive off on hairdressing – he’d look like a right berk standing there all by himself, braiding hair or whatever he was supposed to do.

            He had no experience whatsoever with hairdressing, but he wouldn’t mind it either if Mo wanted to teach him…

            Ringo let out a sigh of relief when he saw her atop the hill, surrounded by chairs and talking animatedly to a woman who seemed in tears, running her hand through a nest of tangled and knotted hair that looked like a lost cause.            

            He caught snippets of the conversation as he approached. “Yes… looks like we’ll have to cut it off… oh, don’t worry, wear it short, it’s fashionable right now.”

            Ringo almost saw the woman gulp as Mo approached with a pair of scissors and started shearing off large sections of thick brown hair. When she was done it hung around her head in a nice sort of way. Her face was more visible now and the knotted dark brown had revealed to be a lighter, more honeyed shade now that it was cut and free from tangles.