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She walked into the kitchen and sat down in the open chair. After a moment, mom said, "Now...there are rules here and they are simple. First, you will dress and act like a young lady. No more ripped jeans and tight shirts. You will look respectable. Second, we have set up an arrangement--we have work for you to do and you will start to pay your way here and...to pay us back for the expenses you have run up. Marie didn't say anything." Mom stopped for a moment, looked her hard and then said, "oh and also, tomorrow morning we going to get that hair cut." Marie looked up at her, a tightness in her gut. Mom held up her hand, "NOT A WORD!" she said sharply. "No argument! You have work to do and no time to spend on long, shaggy hair and I also won't tolerate clogged drains, messy sinks or hair dryers...it just won't happen here. Now go upstairs and go to bed. We have a lot to do tomorrow." Marie got up and walked out. She felt sick.

She walked upstairs, went into the bathroom and shut the door and started to cry. She sobbed loudly at first, and was sure everyone could hear her...but she didn't care. She wasn't sure why she was crying actually...she just needed the release. After awhile she stopped, stood up and went to the mirror. She looked hard at herself, and ran her hands through her thick and wavy long hair, pulling out some tangles, wondering what would happen tomorrow. She thought of running...again. How well had that worked, she thought? Where would she go? Obviously there would be no coming back here. She found the comb again and combed out her hair as best she could. It was still slightly damp from the shower and the conditioner had helped, but there were still a few tangles when, finally, exasperated, she put down the comb on the counter, looked at herself one more time, left the bathroom and went to her room. She didn't remember laying down...and morning came quickly.

A knock on the door told her it was time. It was early. As usual, there was always a regular wakeup time in this house, It had been that way all her life. By the time she was up, dressed and in the bathroom she could here sounds from the kitchen. She brushed her teeth with a toothbrush her mom had layed out, cleaned up and took a last look in the mirror. She searched in drawers and cabinets until she found an old brush that was most likely an old one of hers and brushed her hair out...maybe for the last time. It looked good...in need of a trim, but it was an ample, healthy mane that had always served her well. All of the guys in her life had loved it and lots of other women had told her often how great her hair was. There was a deep pang in her gut at the thought of losing it, but them maybe her mom would let her do something interesting with it at the salon. Even some kind of nice layered cut wouldn't be bad. She had done that a couple of times. As long as it wasn't too short, the layers added nice fullness to her hair and that maybe mom would allow that since it would be easier and neater...her mind was racing. What could mom mean? She had no doubt she had meant what she had said...but then maybe there would be some nogotiation room...she doubted it, but hoped for the best. Her gut told her...probably not. Mom didn't seem to be in any negotiating mood...at all. Another tear started down one cheek. She wiped it and sniffed it back. None of that now she thought. What would mom make her do though, she thought...the image of her bobbed, compliant, conservative sisters popped into her mind. It almost made her retch. THAT would be horrible! But then...as she thought about it...it was really THE most likely outcome. Mom probably stood over them at the salon watching every cut. The thought horrified her. What would she be willing to submit to for a house, food and a new start? She looked at herself in the mirror one more time, fluffed her hair, ran her hands through it smelled it and then tossed it back over one shoulder and walked out the door.

She headed downstairs and was ordered to begin helping her sisters with breakfast. Her sister Katherine gave her a smirk that was hard to read, but except for an order of "do this," or "get that out" not much more was said. As she worked though, horrifying thought hit her--her mom couldn't intend to make her cut her hair like her geeky sisters could she? Both of them had matching, horrible and very short bobs--the straight, ugly bangs and sides just barely falling forward over their cheeks were bad enough. It was the back that made her stomach hurt. Both girls had their hair clippered short in back--completely off their necks. Could that really happen, she thought? She soon forgot about that as the usual bustle ensued as the rest of the family came in and the standard prayers before the meal and a relatively silent meal took her thoughts in other directions. Marie could feel the tension though and it made her nervous.

As the meal ended there was the usual bustle of clearing and cleaning. When that was finished, her mother pulled her aside and gave her a list of several things to do. It was a Saturday so everyone else was busily about their day, but her tasks involved a list of fairly repulsive things--things she had always managed to avoid in the past. She cleaned toilets, emptied trash and swept floors. She was starting to think that maybe hair appointments, etc. were postponed. However, after an hour or so, her mother disappeared and returned a few minutes later, purse and coat in hand and said, "come on Marie, we have errands to run and you aren't staying here alone." She followed her mother to the car and got in. Nothing was said as they drove for a time, but after a stop at the post office, her mother said, "Now...I'm sure you thought about leaving again after our little talk last night." Marie didn't say anything...she shrugged and leaned against her door, head against the window. Her mom was silent for a time and then said, "You have always run, Marie...always. Now is a time to face things like a lady. This may be your last chance." She had nodded, her mind a mix of emotions. "Now young lady, sit up straight, get the hair out of your face and start growing up...it's time!" said her mother. As she said this, the car pulled to the median and turned into a strip mall. Marie couldn't see where they were going and she didn't ask. They pulled into a spot and her mother shut off the engine and turned to Marie. "Now...," said Marie's mom as she undid her seat belt and turned to face her daughter. She paused for a moment and then.... "As I said last night...the hair is going...all of it." Marie gasped and her gut tightened. She looked hard at her mother for explanation, her lips unable to move. After a short pause for emphasis, her mother continued. "I want no hesitation, no talk back, no crying...If you want MY help and support, these are my conditions. Your hair is being cut....short, Marie. All of this long mess is going...all of it...understand?" Marie stared at her mother, her mouth hanging open. "Mom!" was all she said, a tear rolling slowly down one cheek. "Of course...," her mom continued, "you could run...that's an option that has worked well, right?" Her mother paused and as Marie started to plead again, said, "MARIE! HERE IS YOUR CHOICE...." The strong words hung in the air for a minute, and then her mom continued, "You can get out of this car and walk to the shop with me like a responsible adult OR leave and do whatever you want...there is NO middle ground though! IF you stay in my house...you will do WHAT I tell you to do...no compromises and NO backtalk...understand?" Marie started a mild plea again, but her mom shook her head. "That's the choice Marie...it's very, very simple...take it or leave it! I WILL NOT negotiate...not ever...again!" The last statement was delivered with a finality that was clear as a bell. Marie said nothing. At this point, her mother grabbed her purse and started to get out of the car. "Get out Marie!" Marie opened the door, her legs shaking. She stood outside not sure what to do. Her mother simply walked towards the row of shops in front and stopped at the corner looking back. "What will it be Marie? Last chance! I will not force you...but you either come with me...or go...your choice!" Marie hesitated just a moment and then...followed her mother. As they rounded the corner, Marie saw something that made her almost sick to her stomach. There, about halfway down the row of shops was...not a salon sign but...a barber pole. Her mother stopped in front of that door and waited, hands on her hips. Marie hesitated just a minute...but, what could she do. She slowly walked to the shop door. Her mother opened it and held it for her and Marie passed her mother without looking and walked inside. 

The shop was simple and fairly drab. Two barber chairs were on one side with a counter and a row of mirrors, one of the chairs was occupied by an older male barber reading a newspaper that he closed as they walked in. "Hi Martha," said the barber, "This must be Marie then. You can put your coat over there on the rack and have a seat right here then," he said as he stood to put the paper on the counter Marie slowly removed the coat she wore, her hands shaking. "What was she doing? How could this be happening?" she thought. As she hung up the coat, her mother and barber struck up a polite conversation. When Marie turned to face them, she caught her reflection in the mirror. The mass of dark blond waves was an amazing feature. She looked at herself, barely able to breath and until shaken out of her fixation by her mother's voice. "Marie...have a seat in the chair please." It was not a question...it was a request. The barber smiled at her, patted the back of the chair, a white and blue striped cape in one hand. "Here ya go...make yourself comfy," he said with a broad smile. Marie looked once at her mother and, seeing nothing but a fixed and firm gaze, sat down in the chair. Marie's mom stood hands on hips as the barber searched around in a drawer, pulled out a large hair clip. Marie looked straight ahead as firm hands pulled her hair back tightly, twisted it around and pinned it up out of the way. A piece of large tissue was pulled tightly around her neck then, "That is quit a head of hair," he said as he tossed the cape around Marie and as he pulled it up tightly around her neck. "It is that," said Marie's mom with a smile. The barber fluffed the cape out a bit so it covered Marie completely, pumped the chair up twice and turned the chair to face Marie's mother. He pulled the clip out, letting Marie's ample hair spill out over her shoulders. He grabbed a brush from bottom drawer on the counter and started to brush out Marie's hair. Marie winced a couple of times the the brush pulled in spots. Nothing was said for a few minutes and there was no sound except a soft radio playing somewhere in the background, a clock ticking and soft "shushing of the brush." Finally he said "So...Martha...you said on the phone that Marie needed a haircut....we're going a bit shorter then? A shorter bob or something?" He looked at Marie's mother for direction and then continued brushing out Marie's hair. Marie's mother stood, rod straight surveying her daughter for a few moments. Marie looked once at her mom...hoping beyond hope that there was some reconsideration. She had been compliant hadn't she? She thought for a moment that her mom might simply say that a bob would be great--hopefully not like her sisters...she was older after all and wanted to look good. However...to her immense horror...that was not to be. Her mother simply nodded and said, "Actually....yes...a lot shorter then a bob though. In fact...the whole mess is coming off...all of it. Marie needs a bit of life simplification and she doesn't have time, money or energy to take care of all this hair." "So...," said the barber, "....A nice short cut then?" Marie's mom reached out and grabbed a handful of Marie's hair pulling it up. "Take this all off...I want it all off her neck and ears...you can leave a couple of inches on top and some bangs to about here...," she said running a finger across Marie's eyebrows. "Like a short boy's cut then or I guess you'd sort of call it a pixie...a short back and sides cut, right?" Marie's mom surveyed Marie, smiled and said, "Hmmm...yes...that would be perfect...," her mother responded,"We are completely done with it all...I want it completely off her neck and ears...in fact you can clip it real short around the ears and especially in back. Marie just needs a haircut right now that will be simple and easy...no muss or fuss...right Marie?" Marie could hardly breath and she bit her lip from crying out. She gripped the armrests of the chair and steeled herself, still thinking that maybe she could run. The barber must have noticed because as he turned to pick up a comb and a pair of scissors from the counter he said, "Oh come on now dear...you are such a pretty girl. You'll look wonderful AND this will be so cool and easy...you'll love it!" 

Marie probably could have run, but she didn't. She gripped the arms of the chair hard, bit her lip and waited for the blow. She looked down at the thick mass, blond mass that now covered her shoulders, hanging now to the middle of her chest. She had a LOT of hair, she thought. How much did it matter? Was it really that valuable to risk this chance? As she pondered this, the barber grabbed a comb from the counter and started to comb out the hair that now hung partially over her face. Marie looked down at her hair one last time as it was tugged downward in front and then "Shhhhck, Shhhhck, Shhhhck." Everything hanging over her face dropped with a solid plop into her lap. The barber moved then moved to her right side, pulled a section tightly down on the side, fingers tight against her ear and then quickly, without hesitation, cut through the mass letting it slide into Marie's lap to join the rest. This process was repeated as he moved towards the back. Marie felt no hair on the right side of head anymore. She watched as couple of stray strands danced down around her shoulder. Her head was pushed gently forward then and the barber pulled everything down tightly and then the horrible scrunching sound of the scissors as all of it came off. She heard the soft shushing sound as the mass slid along the back of the chair to the floor. This action repeated then up along the left side. Finally the last strands on the left side were pulled tightly towards her ear and with a horrific finality they slid across her chest and into her lap. She stared at the huge pile, wide eyed as the barber set the scissors on the counter. A horrific sound greeted her ears as the loud, horrible and unmistakable sound of the clippers greeted her. The chair was pumped up again and then, starting again on the right, the barber lifted what was left on that side and whisked the clippers through it. A large pile slid onto her shoulders and hung their, as it was joined by still more, the pile slowly drifted forward, coming to rest across her chest. More and more of her soft hair joined it and soon the entire right side of her shoulders and chest was covered with hair. The barber worked towards the back, repeating the process. Soon he pushed her head back forward and started up the back. He worked up and back down the back working along the nape of her neck and then worked to the left side. Soon a mass of hair fell across her shoulder and in short order that mass worked it's way down. All of her beautiful hair now lay in piles across her chest and lap. She felt sick. The barber worked back around that side and to the back and back to the front, repeating the process one more time and then switched off the clippers. "There," he said. "That was the hard part...let's clean everything up now and make you real pretty." He picked up the scissors again, brushed most of the pile from her shoulders with one hand, took a wisk from the counter and brushed around her neck and then combed up the remaining hair on top and "clop, clop, clop" scissored off much of what remained. Another rain of hair wafted over her cheek and joined the larger pile on her chest and lap. He lifted and combed furiously and soon a pile of it spun down over her nose. He brushed her face off again and then continued on and then started working down over the side again and finally pulled her ear down and snipped everything up off her ear. He repeated this process on the other side, grabbed the whisk again brushed off her face and ears and then moved to the back. He snipped and snipped up the back and then sat the scissors on the counter. Once again the whine of the clippers greeted her ears. The barber pushed her head forward and whisked along the bottom and up the back one more time, scraping finally up her bare neck. He touched here and there around her ears and once again along the bottom, surveyed everything one more time and then shut off the clippers. Maria looked at her mom who had a very satisfied look on her face. Maria felt sick. "Almost done," said the barber. "It looks really good," said Maria's mom, "such a nice looking young lady you are dear without all that hair...really nice." 

The barber went back to checking and snipping around the sides and back, checked one more time across the top and then had Maria close her eyes as he snipped a few times across her forehead. He brushed his hand through what remained of her hair. Whisked around her neck and face one more time and pronounced, "There you are...a new woman!" He turned the chair around to face the mirror as he said this. "What do you think?"

The image that greeted Maria was absolutely unrecognizable. She looked exactly like a cute little boy with bangs squared across her forehead. There was nothing left on the sides and her ears stood out like beacons for the first time in her entire life. The top was short enough that it stood up a bit in places. At this point the she couldn't help it. The tears started to flow. It wasn't that it looked horrible. It actually didn't. The shock was simply more then she could bear. "There there said the barber as he whisked again around her neck, undid the cape in back and folded it forward. He brushed around shoulders again, pulled off the tissue and whisked the cape away, dumping all of her hair onto the floor behind the chair. Maria's hands went slowly to her head. There was barely anything left. It was prickly in back even, like a buzz cut. And it was even that way at the bottom around her ears. "Maria it is so nice," said her mother. "Thanks so much Karl! We will see you in a couple of weeks. This is a haircut Marie is keeping for a long time." 

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