See Dot Smile

Vincent

Bud's 'guy', it turns out, is his hairdresser, Vincent. And by the look on Vincent's face when we arrive at his salon after my birthday breakfast, Bud hasn't been to see him in far too long.

"Where have you been?" Vincent scolds him in a high-pitched voice. He's almost as tiny as me but his personality is triple sized. His hair is salty gray, cut very short in the back and long and curly on top. The tips are lavender, and he has a row of eight gold stud earrings in his left ear and one stud in his right nostril. "I thought you died." 

"I'm alive," Bud says, guiltily. "I've just been busy. With school and--"

"Who's touched your hair since you saw me last?" Vincent shoves his fingers into the hair over Bud's forehead and pouts as if someone has thrown red paint over a masterpiece he created.

"No one." Bud squirms under Vincent's doubtful gaze. "I've gone to the cosmetology school a few times."

Vincent gasps and throws his hand over his mouth. "I'd ask if your family fell on hard times, but I've seen your sister and your mother every six weeks for the last two years, so I have to assume it was something I said that's kept you away all this time."

"It wasn't," Bud says, getting increasingly uncomfortable with Vincent's passive aggressive campaign. "This is Dot, the friend I was telling you about. It's her birthday, so she can get whatever she wants. But I was thinking maybe auburn highlights and an inverted bob cut."

"How short?" Vincent runs his eyes over my boring, shoulder length hair, squinting to visualize Bud's concept.

Bud brings his hand up to the nape of my neck, sending a tingle over my shoulder blades. "From here in the back, to here in the front," he says bringing his fingers down just below my jawline. "That way she can still tuck it behind her ear the way she does." Bud tucks the length of hair he's fingering behind my ear. A tiny laugh bubbles out of me, an audible cover for the buzz the gesture leaves on my skin. Bud pulls his hand back and blushes. "What do you think?"

I start to open my mouth and Vincent answers, "I think you need to start working for me. You ready, beautiful?"

Okay, now he's talking to me. I nod, even though I'm not sure what I'm agreeing to. Vincent leads me away from Bud and toward his station. "You'll see Crystal today," Vincent yells over his shoulder. "But I want you back in my chair in six weeks."

"I'm only here for Dot," Bud argues politely. "I don't need--"

"CRYSTAL!" Vincent shouts toward the back of the salon. A twentysomething girl with pale skin and turquoise tresses steps out from behind the sinks. "Bud needs foils. Lighten him up. And a cut. The top can stay long, but the sides are a disaster. They're hiding his perfect ears."

"No. No foils. We're not here for me," Bud protests as Crystal grins at him, smacking her gum. She takes him by the hand and drags him to her chair on the opposite side of the room where he surrenders. He looks at me in the mirror and mouths the words, "HELP ME."

I giggle and then let myself melt under Vincent's capable hands, as he foils my hair and gabs poetically about watching Bud grow up. "So adorable ... little blonde angel ... and those EYES ... all grown up now ... a real catch ... don't let him get away ... seriously, hang on to him or I'm going to snag him the minute he's legal."

While my hair is processing, I catch a glimpse of Bud, reclined with his head under a dryer. He's thumbing through a Cosmo and tapping his toe to the beat of the techno noise playing in the background. I smile as I stare at the bottom of his shoe and imagine I could fit both of my feet inside it. I imagine his big, bare feet ... walking over wet sand... and my feet, walking next to them... tiny by comparison ... my skin prickles and my pulse kicks up ... 

I shake my head over the images. There's nothing erotic about them, but they're making me feel stuff. Stuff I shouldn't be feeling while getting my hair done in public on a Saturday afternoon.

Right?

Vincent is still finishing my haircut when Bud steps over to us, revealing his transformation.

"Oh, wow." I whip my head around to get a better look. Vincent gasps dramatically, drops his scissors, and crosses himself, thanking God he didn't slice my ear off.

Bud blushes into my mirror, trying to figure out what Crystal did to him. She kissed him with sunshine is what she did. His dark blond hair is laced with white-blonde highlights. And Vincent was right about Bud's ears. They're delightful. Smallish, and they don't stick out from the side of his head like some ears do. He has little earlobes that are extra fleshy, like if your pinched them between your fingers there would be ample squishiness to enjoy. Vincent runs his hand through the product laden tips of Bud's new do and sniffles. "There he is. My angel boy. Your mother's going die when she sees you."

"Let's hope not," Bud smiles sheepishly. "I have to send a few texts," he says to me. "I'll be back to get you in..." he looks to Vincent for a time frame. Vincent holds up ten fingers. "Ten minutes." Bud smiles at me. "I can't wait to see you when you're done. Don't let her pay for anything," he says to Vincent. And then he's gone.

And I start breathing again. 

* * * * *

I spend the whole car ride home trying not to stare at Bud. It's like someone painted him with light, and with his hair blonder his eyes are explosive blue. I'll have to do Tom a solid and make sure Bud stays away from Marcus tomorrow for our last DGLS mission. 

I haven't told Tom it will be the last. I'm trying not to think about that too much.

Even though it's only one o'clock and I have no other plans for the day, when Bud drops me off and says he'll see me tomorrow, I'm satisfied. As eighteenth birthdays go, it wasn't especially momentous. And I'm not even mad my friends didn't plan anything for me today. They all sent me a text or an email to let me know they remembered, and that's enough for me.

My parents shower me with compliments on my hair and take me out for dinner. I thank them for being amazing parents and they thank me for being an amazing daughter. On the way home, I get an urge to text Joshua ... something. I don't know what. Maybe it's best if I don't.

I pull up the photo one more time, a selfie of me and Bud with our finished hairdos at Vincent's salon. He's leaning over my shoulder and smiling up at the camera. Our cheeks are touching. Vincent is whispering something to Crystal in the background. Something about Bud. Or me. 

Or the two of us. 

I zoom in on one of Bud's earlobes, wishing I could pinch it between my fingers. I smile because it's impossible not to. Bud makes it impossible for me not to smile. I start to close the photo and make a split decision. I set it as my screensaver, letting it replace the photo of Joshua and his dog Josephine from years ago. My heart breaks a little (okay, a lot) as I do it, even though I know that photo isn't lost. I just won't see it every day anymore.

I'll see a new memory instead. A happy one.

Of me and my best friend, together, on my eighteenth birthday.

All smiles. 

* * * * *