Born Weird

“I know you’re not supposed to ask, but I don’t know who wouldn’t know there’s a baby in there.”

“Thirty-five weeks. Ish?”

“A girl?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I thought so. You’re carrying pretty low for it to be a boy.”

“If she’d been a boy I was going to name her Besnard.”

“You’re going it alone?”

“After my father. Besnard. Besnard Richard Weird?” Angie said. She opened her eyes. Nicola continued cutting.

“Sorry,” she said. “No ring, that’s all. Am I prying?”

“No. You’re not. There isn’t one.”

Angie’s mother made a clucking sound with her tongue.

“You disapprove?” Angie asked.

“If a woman wants a child there’s nothing worse than not having one. It’s just very hard to do it on your own.”

“Do you have children?”

“No, no. Well, almost.”

“What happened?”

“I lost my husband.”

“How?”

“A storm.”

“A storm?”

“The Great Storm of 2001. He was lost at sea. Do you remember it? That storm?” she asked. The scissors stopped. They looked at each other in the mirror.

“Of course.”

“Were you in it?”

“Sometimes I feel like I still am.”

“Did you lose someone too?”

“I did,” Angie said. Nicola nodded. She resumed cutting Angie’s hair. She made six more slices at the back. Then three quick stabs to the top. She held up a length from the right side of Angie’s head and cut at what seemed to be a randomly chosen point. She did the same on the left side. Exchanging her scissors for the hair dryer, Nicola flicked it to the highest setting and only then did Angie let herself cry.

Nicola turned off the hair dryer and stepped away. Angie looked in the mirror. Her hair seemed even more chaotic than Lucy’s. Some sections on the right side seemed untouched, while all the hair on the left was cut quite short. Her bangs had been sliced into a zigzag pattern. Four tufts stuck up from the top.

“So?” Nicola asked. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Mom,” Angie said. “It’s perfect.”

Lucy was waiting by the elevator. The expression on her face remained neutral. She pressed the up button but the elevator doors did not open and then she started to laugh.

“We could be twins!” Lucy said. She ran her hands all over Angie’s head.

“It is really that bad?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”

“I still think she’s faking.”

“She’s not faking.”

“I saw a look. A look of recognition. Just for a moment,” Angie said.

Lucy stopped. She took Angie’s hands. She held them tightly and she did not loosen her grip. “She fakes that,” Lucy said. “That she does fake, no doubt.”

“She fakes what?”

“She pretends, just at first, just for a moment, that she recognizes you. Just to see if she’s supposed to. Then it goes away. It always goes away.”

There was a ping and the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.

“I didn’t think of that,” Angie said.

“It always goes away.”

“Still. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Stop playing with it.”

“How bad is it?”

“We have to get to the airport. Our plane leaves at 11:15.”

“I really appreciate this …”

“It’s no big deal. Don’t cry.”

“I’m not … crying.”

“It’s okay. Calm down. It’ll all be all right.”