Long-Distance Calls

31

*As you can see, there's a new cover. Do you like it? Should I keep it or should I go back to the previous one? Let me know.*

I woke up into the new year after sleeping the whole night like a baby.

Waiting for midnight with Evelyn had been very therapeutic for me, as it relaxed me and made me forget for a moment about my constant anxiety.

When I sat down at the kitchen table, my mother presented me my cup of hot chocolate milk and gave me a quick, slightly detached kiss on the cheek, whispering "happy new year".

As I started to sip on the milk, my father entered the house from the outside without looking at anyone, walking past us and heading upstairs.

Of course, I didn't even bother to comment that with my mother, as she glanced at me with a look on her face that said all that was needed to be said. In response, I shrugged and shook my head no.

As I was drying my hair after a long shower, I heard someone knocking on the door. That was followed by my mother almost yelling "Tyler! What a surprise! Come in!".

I wish my mother could always be as lively as she was around Tyler.

As Tyler entertained small talk with my mom, I quickly finished drying my hair and opened the bathroom door.

The noise caused by the old door was enough to make Tyler turn my way and smile at me. I smiled back as he walked towards me.

"Wait, I have to style my hair," I said and intended to close the door, but he blocked me.

"Here, let me," he said, entering the bathroom. I felt a little embarrassed because of the fluffy natural hair on top of my head, as he grabbed the clay on the cabinet.

"Happy new year," I caroled, as he swiftly unbolted the clay jar and swiped a finger into the product, grabbing a nickel-size amount of it.

"Happy new year to you too," he cheerfully stated.
He then swept to my back and positioned me in front of the mirror.

I looked at his face from the mirror and he looked very concentrated, as he rubbed his hands together, heating up the clay on his palms. Soon, he was coating the product on my hair with his fast, stiff hands.

I had to put strength into my neck not to end up looking like one of those head-bouncing toys because of his savage distribution of clay in my hair, but, in the end, it was worth the stress.

His mastery at hairstyling left me with a stunning honest-to-God quiff on top of my head, one I'd never be able to do, one very similar to his.

I turned my head left and right several times, admiring his work of art and said "I'm out of words. Can I please call you every time I have to style my hair?"

He chuckled. "You can do this yourself. Just remember, you have to dominate your hair. You rule on your hair, it doesn't rule on you. Even if it's on top of you."

"Jesus, life just has to be about imposing your authority on everything, uh?" I observed.

That morning was spent watching episodes of Dragon Ball Z, as I told Tyler about the progress I had made with Evelyn, whom I'd texted a good morning as soon as I woke up but was yet to hear back.