If Fire Was A Lover

February 16th, 2021

Aunt Wendy had been cutting my brother's hair for years, and she cut all my cousins' hair too. I texted her and asked if she could fix mine, and I told her I tried to do it myself. Mom was upset that I cut it without asking, especially since I messed it up so bad. I was scared to go to Wendy's house and be so close to Logan, but I knew I needed her help. The worst that could happen was I'd see him in his yard as I drove by, and my heart would break. I'd be fine.

As I drove past his house and pulled into Wendy's driveway, I took a sharp inhale in. I told myself I was fine, and I got out of my dad's truck and walked inside of her house. As soon as I stepped through the door I felt better, more at ease. It smelled like banana bread and coffee. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and everything was okay.

"Hey sweetie!" Wendy came up the stairs and wrapped her arms around me. "How are you honey?" She asked.

"I'm doing okay, a little better than the last time you saw me. Sorry about that, by the way." I said.

"Oh, honey. You don't have to apologize for crying, we all do it. You can come cry to me anytime you need. I'll always be here for you, okay?" Her words were always so kind, like a soft hand rubbing you back. If honey was a person, it would be Wendy.

"I love you so much, thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you." I told her.

"I love you, too, kiddo. I think aunties are so important for girls. I remember I used to hang out with my aunts every single weekend, it was always nice to get out of the house and just have some girl time. Even if that girly time is just crying, it's always special to me." She smiled at me.

"You're the best," I told her.

"So, what happened to your hair?" She asked, which made us both laugh.

"I don't even know," I laughed again. "I guess I can't be trusted with scissors anymore than a toddler."

"We can fix it, don't worry honey." She said.

I sat down at the table and she lined the floor with newspaper and grabbed some small scissors and a comb. As I sat I remembered the conversation Logan and I had at that table about three years prior to that. I could hear his voice in my head telling me I was beautiful. Wendy started combing out my hair and sectioning parts of it to cut.

"I'll try to save as much length as I can, I know you've been growing it out for a while." She told me.

"It's okay, you can cut as much as you need to. I don't really want long hair anymore." I told her.

I felt her snipping little strands of hair and watched them fall from my head to the ground. I wanted to tell her to shave it all off, to help me start fresh. I didn't want a single strand on my head that he had touched. I also wanted to skin my body, to become a new person entirely. But that wasn't a choice.

"So, how come you cut it off?" Wendy asked as she continued fixing it.

"I had a nightmare. Someone was touching my hair, I just couldn't tell if it was reality or not." I decided to tell her the truth. Not the whole truth, just enough to help her understand.

"Does that happen a lot, the nightmares?" She asked me.

"Lately, yes." I replied.

"Did something happen to trigger these dreams?" She asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I think it's just winter." I told her.

"Was it the overdose?" She asked me. I didn't even realize she knew, but I guess it makes sense. The whole family probably knew.

"I think it's a part of it." I said.

"You know, whenever you feel that helpless, you can always come to me honey. Any time of night or day, if you call I'll pick up." Her words were honest and warm.

"Thank you."

"Alright, we're all done. I think it's kind of cute!" Wendy smiled and I stood from my seat.

She held up a mirror for me to look in. The girl in the mirror looked older somehow. I liked her. I thanked Wendy and went to start a pot of coffee. She went to lay down for a nap and I sat on the couch to read. Wendy always had good books laying around her house. As I was reading, Logan's dog came through the door.

"Peanut, what are you doing?" I picked her up and rubbed her warm belly. It hit me harder than it should have when I saw her. She came over to Wendy's all the time for treats and to take naps and to play with Wendy's dog. For some reason I just wasn't expecting it. I played with her ears and sc rather her fuzzy head until she fell asleep on me.

"Peanut, come here," Logan's voice startled me. I turned around and saw him standing in the doorway. Peanut leapt from my lap and followed him outside. He looked directly at me and held eye contact for at least a minute, but he said nothing.

"Logan," I said and stood from the couch. He closed the door behind him and walked away to his house. I sat back down, defeated. He wouldn't even speak to me. Was I ugly to him now? Did he finally get sick of me? Was my body not enough to make him talk to me anymore? I layed on the couch and pulled a blanket over myself. Tears began to make their way down my cheeks and piled up on the pillow. I closed my eyes gently and let myself sleep. Part of me hoped that Logan would come back and sit with me, or kiss my head, or maybe lay with me. But I knew that if he did come back, that is not what he would want. That's never what he wanted.

I heard that a lot of people change their hair after a breakup because we store memories in our hair, and we associate it with the person who we loved. It made sense to me, I hated my hair after him. Everything that he did and said to me, it all stuck in my hair. And he was in my hair, his hands and his insides. It made me sick. But not anymore, now I had chopped it off. I was rid of him, at least in one way.