Surprising Weekend

A Surprising Weekend. – EddyZ

Rana’s hair fluttered wildly in the wind and she was constantly busy with both hands to brush it out of her face. At last she requested me to stop for a moment so that she would have an opportunity to tie up her hair in a ponytail. Normally, she didn’t like that, she would rather have hanging hair. “Yes Nates, these are the drawbacks of long hair,” I teased her.

In full her first name read Maranatha, but she didn’t want to be addressed by that. Certainly not by Nates as well. I knew and therefore I did it. Sometimes, not too often, it should remain a playful blow, and she shouldn’t get annoyed. But when we had a discussion about her hair, I couldn’t refrain from it. The subject was controversial. I have nothing against long hair, provided that it is beautiful and wavy. And it was not. Rana’s hair was auburn, but she wasn’t satisfied with it. She bleached her hair, but as the outgrow became again and again awkwardly contrasting visible, she had had her hair dyed dark blonde. The repeated treatments have had an adverse effect, it had become sparse, limp and fragile and the split ends had to be trimmed regularly.

She gave me a dirty look. “Look, Louise don’t spoil my temper. Don’t bother me again about my hair. The subject is closed.”

“A never-ending story, Ma. But I’ll say no more about it.” I answered docilely.

She corrupted my first name, Louis, to pay me back. What man would like to be addressed with a girl’s name? Rana’s hair remains a point of disputation. I think that she should stop dyeing her hair and get it cut, but she fancies that with an intensive treatment a full recovery can be achieved and she wouldn’t listen to me.

Rana is my girlfriend and lover, but we don’t live together. Also that subject is a matter of dispute, though not so violent. Rana is very keen on being independent and properly speaking, I’m too, to be honest. So we have a LAT.-relationship. Nevertheless I think sometimes how nice it would be to find some-one present when I come home. Okay, in the weekend we are together most of the time.

Just like now. It is Friday afternoon and we are driving south in my convertible, with the roof open. We have no specific destination, we’ll see where we come.

“Oh, darling, would you take the next exit? We are near Cullenburg. I would like to do some sightseeing. I went to school there.”

“I didn’t know that you lived in Cullenburg.”

“I didn’t, but my parents lived in a village nearby. So I had to travel every day to Cullenburg when I attended the secondary school.”

“Ok, let’s go to Cullenburg then. The return of pigheaded Rana esculenta.”

Rana is the genteel name for frog, esculenta means edible. It is the pet name I have given to her.

“Wait and see, little fellow, perhaps fate keeps a surprise for you in reserve.”

“In Cullenburg?” I ask laughing.” I cannot imagine that exciting adventures are waiting for us there.”

Rana smiles, but says nothing.

“In any case I would like a cup of coffee. Do you think we can get it there?”

“Don’t be so condescending! Maybe we can eat something there too.”

I look at her astonished: “It is nearly half past four!”

“I want to look about first.”

“I understand. For the time being we are stuck. Let us stay overnight then.”

It intended to be a joke, but Rana is serious. “That is a good idea, I dare say a better, no, the best idea.”

“Is that your surprise?” She smiles again. “Well, then, we had better look for a hotel.”

“I know where to find one.”

“Now I understand why you wanted me to drive in this direction. You did plan this beforehand. Did you book a room already?”

“Know-all! Nothing escapes you.”

We drive straight to the hotel and park the car in the car-park. In the restaurant we drink coffee and than Rana says: “Not far from here is a bookshop. You love to nose about the books. In the meantime I have to pay a visit to a place which is beloved to me. A piece of nostalgia.” She grins, apologising. “I’ll find you here at the hotel and then we may have dinner.”

We have an agreement that we leave each other free in all our doings provided that we don’t harm or injure each other. So it is not strange that she doesn’t ask me to come with her when she is visiting someone or other who I don’t know.

She stays away about one and a half hours. I have gone to our room at the hotel to wait for her.

When she comes back I stare at her with bewilderment. She looks uneasy and somewhat frightened to me.

“You think it is ghastly, isn’t it?”

She has on top of her head a small area of hair, which I suppose to be one quarter of an inch long, no…. short. That’s all. At last I find my tongue again.

“Cullenburg produced more surprises than I could suppose. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I see a tear trickling down her cheek.

“It got out of hand. I wanted to surprise you, but this I had not foreseen. I’m really sorry.”

“It is too late for that now. Do you know what I regret? That I wasn’t there.”

“Yes, then you could have stopped me.”

“Maybe. In any case you have to explain me something, in my opinion.”

“Shall we sit down? Then I’ll tell you everything.”

She looks at me indirectly and asks rather timidly: “Are you cross with me? Yes, it is unforgivable from me.”

I experience that as moving. She looks so vulnerable. Now that I have overcome the shock I think she looks super.

“No, I am not angry. I tried so long to persuade you to cut your hair. Now you have done it very drastically, but give me the time to get accustomed to it. Listen, let us go to the restaurant and then you can give me a scrupulous account of the event.”

After we have ordered I say: “Begin.”

The hotel isn’t big, nor is the restaurant and there are not many visitors. They throw sidelong gazes upon us and I notice that we call for comment but it doesn’t touch us.

“When I went to school here I regularly visited a hairdresser in Cullenburg. The owner was an older, stout and balding man who became a sort of fatherly character for me. I could discuss everything with him and I didn’t mean only my hair. He listened to me and gave me advice and I trusted him. When I say everything I have in mind all things that bothered me.

“I understand. He was your intimate adviser.”

“Yes. Therefore I thought I’ll give him a ring to ask his advice about my hair. Of course he said that I should visit him.”

“That’s why we made this trip! You had everything arranged.”

“You know that already.” He told me that the beauty salon would be open till eight, so I had to see what suited me. But when I arrived this afternoon, he wasn’t there. A young man told me that the boss had been sick of late and he had to be absent frequently. Of course I was disappointed, but the boy had a sympathetic face and an attractive smile. I don’t know if it was the familiar environment or the appearance and behaviour of the boy, but I felt at once at ease.

“‘Maybe I can help you,’ he said and I told him about my problem.

“‘Sit down,’ he said, ‘then we shall take a look.’

“Well his judgement was not mild.

“‘You have spoiled your hair thoroughly.’

“But I knew that already.

“‘Don’t dye it any more and you should sacrifice about four inches, if I may advise you.'”

“That is precisely what I have tried to explain to you so often,” I say.

Rana looks at me, resigned, somewhat guilty really.

“Yes darling, you were right. He continued saying that whatever I did the damaged parts wouldn’t be restored, to it would be better to get rid of them. ‘You will have two colours in your hair for some time when it grows out but you have to live with it anyway.’

“I came to the conclusion that I would follow his advice. He gave my hair a shampoo first and left it a little damp. He sectioned it and snipped from the lowest section about a hand. While he did so, there came up into my mind an image from several years ago. I was about sixteen years and in the chair in which I actually sat, was sitting a young lady who had her hair cropped, except for a small border at her forehead, which remained a little longer. While I was waiting for my turn, I looked at her and I felt excited. And now that I recalled this I began to feel very queer. As if I sat there again waiting, looking at myself in the chair. I was actually sitting. The boy, whose name was Bob, chatted while cutting my hair.

“‘Are you dreaming?’ he asked, as I didn’t seem to hear what he said.

“‘Oh, I am sorry,’ I said and told him what I was thinking of. He stopped cutting and said: ‘That would be the best thing to do for your hair too. A new start. And it would solve the colour problem for the greater part.’

“Of course I disapproved of the idea. Of course I should have said: ‘Oh no.I wouldn’t consider that.'”

“But you didn’t.”

“I don’t know what came over me. I felt dizzy all of a sudden and I heard myself say: ‘Just do it.’

“‘Do you really want it?’ he asked.

“No, I didn’t but I could not say that.

“‘Yes,’ I whispered.

“He grabbed a pair of clippers, switched them on and pushed my head forward to my breast. I heard the humming that came louder as he approached with the buzzer towards my nape. The humming changed over to a hoarser sound when the clippers found their way along the back of my head. I saw tresses of my hair fall into my lap. Then he released the pins of the middle layers and snipped them near to my scalp. Tufts of hair now dropped and piled up on my shoulders, in my lap and on the floor. Again he used the clippers on the back of my head up unto my crown and on the sides of my head in front and behind my ears. Only on top of my head my hair was still long. He unpinned it, took a big comb and fetched all of it near to my scalp. With a few mowing-movements of the clippers it fell also. He leveled the stubble till… well, as it is now. ‘Now you have a crew-cut,’ he said. ‘Just like American marines:'”

Rana looks at me expectantly. I smile. “I feel pity that I wasn’t present, but you described the event so clearly that I have got a precise view of the matter. I am glad that you did it. Your colleagues will be astonished when you enter your office next Monday.”

Rana has a job as a computer-designer.

“Oh, they are accustomed to transformation. Makeovers are events that regularly occur.”

She pinches my hand.

“It is nice that you think it is funny but you have nevertheless not a good view of the events in the beauty salon. For you didn’t see how much hair lay on my shoulders, in my lap and on the floor. Yes I regret it now too that you were not there.”

“It is no use crying over spilt milk.”

When we are in our room later, I rub her head with my hand. The short hair on top feels like a soft brush. When we make love I cannot keep my hands off her head and that excites me enormously.

“Wow,” exclaims Rana, warm and flushed, “this has been the most delicious love-making of the age. Don’t you really mind that my hair is so terribly short?”

But she knows the answer of course.

“It didn’t happen just like that, did it? You did plan this beforehand, didn’t you?”

She looks guilty.

“I wanted to lecture you. I had got enough of your moaning about my hair. Okay, I thought, you want it short, short it will be. Are you angry now?”

“I could eat you, Rana esculenta. Besides, crying about spilt milk does not apply to your hair. It will grow again. In your own colour.”

Rana shakes her head. “For the time being I want to keep it like this. If you don’t agree, it is too bad for you. Are you shocked now?”

“No, you are and remain a pigheaded girl, for you do all the same what you want. Nevertheless you changed your course drastically. Well good luck to you. But I have a wish.”

“And that is?”

“To sleep together more often. Not only during the weekends.”

“Hmm, I have thought about it too. It must be possible to organise that?”

“Oh, certainly.”

Monday night I phone her.

“How was your day?”

“Well, opinions differed, but the positive dominated. Nearly everyone asked what my friend thought about it.”

“And?”

“Oh, I told them that you were shocked and did not want to see me before my hair had grown back… Joking! No, I said that you were wildly enthusiastic about it.”

“Liar. Both are far from the truth.”

“I know darling. It is none of their business. If you agree I will come over to you tomorrow night to sleep with you.”

“I am looking forward to it.”

Of course it is not only to please me but also for her pleasure. But it appears that she has another purpose.

“When I rub the back of my head it feels like sandpaper or a grater. Will you set that to rights?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You have a razor, haven’t you?”

I groan: “I am so tired of shaving myself and should I shave you as well? Why don’t you buy a razor and do it yourself?”

“Come on hypocrite! You love to do it! I have never done it, maybe I would shave off the whole lot.”

“Neither did I ever shave a woman. What makes you think that I can do it better?”

But I have to do it.

“And now I am going to eat you.”

“With hide and hair?” she grins.

“Of course. Everything of you, completely.”

We make love.

“You may do this more frequently,” she says.

“Shaving or love making?”

“Both. And trim my hair on top every two weeks.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you move in with me?”

“I have thought about it. Who knows?”

Ah, my Rana esculenta. A pigheaded person but I could eat her raw!

 

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