by Bree LeMaire
Cindy met Pablo on Match.com after a couple girlfriends signed her up. They christened her Cindy, for Cinderella, knowing she’d eventually come across a prince. Pablo showed up, a perfect match. Her picture was reminiscent of a thirtyish librarian, a short dirty blond without glasses. His picture showed him with heavy eyebrows and dark eyes, wearing a knitted cap that looked French-ish. He might have had a French mother even with the name Pablo.
Cindy was enthralled from the beginning with the excitement of a new person in her life. Their first date was at Peet’s Coffee as they shared anti-Starbucks philosophies. She’d had a bad vacation in Seattle, and he’d gotten an unwanted Frappuccino sugar high. Their second date was to an upscale Denny’s. The knowing Denny’s hostess assessed customers for dining location. Birkenstocks got the window; beat-up tennis shoes were seated next to the cash register. Steel-toed, dirty work boots were placed by the swinging kitchen doors. Cindy and Pablo were shown to a booth by the far windows. They had much in common. Tom Cruise was their hero. They both believed in wearing red, white, and blue on national holidays. Political views were avoided as they might agree but were not ready to test those waters. Their dates lasted more than four hours.
After the Denny’s date, Cindy was called to Orlando for a business meeting to discuss the new line of slim jeans with matching sandals for the fall openings.
Pablo was happy to have the extra time. He told Cindy he would use it to enjoy a hot oil hair treatment. He loved his most delicious long hair, flowing with ringlets that tumbled over each shoulder. It was a natural lusty chestnut color inherited from his mother.
The third date, Cindy asked him for dinner in her studio apartment. It was a calculated move on her part to take their relationship into new territory. After dinner they sipped wine and talked of her trip. As they talked Pablo slowly moved his chair to her side of the table for their first soft, delightful kiss.
Wow, she thought, I like this and wanted more. She stretched out and put her arms around his neck to bring him closer while still avoiding the beret.
“You’re my great welcoming committee,” she declared for her return home.
“Yes, with more to come,” he said and bent his head for another kiss.
“Let’s get comfier.”
“Sure,” he said and moved his hand farther down her back, strong and kneading as he held her.
Cindy sat up, grabbed his hand, and led him across the way to her bedroom. She threw her ten stuffed animals to the side and fell into the blue butterflies on her bed. She watched as he reached for his hat with a sweeping gesture and dramatically freed his hair, shaking his head so the naturally red waves fell deeply down all the way to his waist. She couldn’t believe such a full head of hair. Instinctively he flipped a handful out of the way to the left as he bent down to kiss Cindy again.
She responded and brought her hand up to hold his head but found her hand tangled in his hair.
“Oops, sorry.” He wrestled his tresses back.
She took off her blouse while he reached to unfasten her bra and waited while he fought past his abundant tresses to reach the hook, which he unhinged with some difficulty.
A mouthful of tangles tasting of Herbal Essences assaulted her mouth. She coughed, a stray hair.
“Sorry,” he said as he brought his free hand up to hold the strands away from her mouth and smooth unruly curls. He twisted the strands into an extended ponytail and gingerly placed the tail across his chest.
Cindy quietly began to do her deep rapid breathing Yoga technique to heighten her energy. It counterbalanced her anger over his bra hook fumbling. She visualized a long hairy snake sliding down his back, which he proudly nurtured. No, she reprimanded herself, I must think positively. She wanted to hold his arm but kept running into his partially curled snake. No, she closed her eyes and tried to envision blond Fabio, or was it Flavio from her romance novels? His hair was long but definitely not as long as Pablo’s.
“Here, let me massage your back,” Pablo said.
She rolled over onto her stomach. He moved to straddle her.
“Massage oil.” She pointed to the blue-tinted bottle at her bedside.
He poured a bit into his hand and massaged around her backbone. This was followed by kneading and pressing as his hands moved across her back.
Something like a paper cut pierced under his right hand. It was sharp and dug into her skin. “Ouch,” she said. She tried to sit up, but he was on top of her. “Stop, stop, stop. You’re hurting.”
He was oblivious until she sat up, took his hand, and held up a barely visible strand of his hair. The quasi ponytail had unraveled and now was tousled over his shoulder.
“How long have you had this long hair?” she asked, looking directly at him as if to say, Don’t you see how your hair is a massive inconvenience?
“Never,” he said. “Never had it cut.” He proudly brought a few strands onto his chest. “People love my hair,” he stated. “My mother braided it every day when I was young. It was our special time.” He brought the tail end of his hair to his chest and twisted it between his fingers.
Cindy could see where a mother might braid a child’s hair, but a vision of his mother braiding Pablo’s hair wasn’t appealing. “Have you considered trimming it?” She wanted to suggest a haircut, but that seemed too severe.
“Never been cut.” He proudly stated.
It seemed incredible that a man would hang on to his hair all that time. Did he think he was more masculine with long tresses?
“I did have it trimmed a couple years ago,” he said.
“That only stimulates hair to grow faster,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief as she reached for her blouse.
“Wait, don’t get dressed.” Pablo saw his chance was rapidly evaporating. He needed to interrupt the trajectory. “How can you even consider breaking off with me. You need to give us a chance.” He reached to his tresses for comfort.
“This is the deal,” Cindy said pointing a finger at him. “I see that you’d never give up your hair for me, and your hair is physically and emotionally getting in our way.” She didn’t relish casting him aside without a good reason, but facts were facts. There wasn’t enough room in her world for any more hair, and Pablo had enough for both of them.
She pointed to the bedside table and her trusty scissors. It would be an easy snip to just lop off that huge snake tail.
“Oh no,” Pablo emphatically raised both hands to restrain her. “I can’t do that.”
She mistook his gesture as making a grab for her and shoved him away in panic. “Let me go,” she cried.
“What?” He seized her hand to stop her and protect his hair.
This was the last straw. She saw that he was about to assault her and in defense slammed him to the floor. While she caught her breath, she held him. Her Saturday afternoon self-defense class came in handy.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” she shouted. She seized a hank of hair and wrapped it around his neck, shoving a bunch into his mouth. The self-defense lessons rose to a new level.
He coughed and coughed some more. His eyes got bigger; his skin turned a light blue as he choked.
Cindy relinquished her hold ever so slightly.
He sputtered and spat up a small mass of hair.
“Hairball,” she said, holding fast before letting him go along his hairball way.
Category: Featured, Short Story