She fingered the spikes as if they were alien. Last week her hand slid over the ice rink of her skull. She wondered if she should just shave the new growth again. Her eyes looked huge in the mirror.
He told her he’d love her no matter what she had done. Had she wrecked the car?
Overdrawn the account?
Quit her job? Gotten pregnant? Gambled away all their savings?
No, no, and no.
Then why worry? He’d love her if she got fat as a rum ball. He’d love her if she were bald.
What he hadn’t asked was if she had had an affair. If it was, in fact, with his closest friend, Jake. For a month she festered in silence. Then she cut off her long dark brown hair. Used his electric shaver to smooth her head all over, glowing and fresh and clean.
He stood there not blinking, not breathing, so neither did she. Then his hands dropped down to his sides and his mouth guppied for words. She waited. He coughed and then he asked her why she had done it. She told him about the three weeks he had been away and how Jake had come over and they’d both had too much to drink. He said nothing but in the morning he left.
She couldn’t believe it. He said he would forgive anything. He would love her forever regardless of all. Even if she was bald.