Layers

‘GET yourself a haircut, love.’ His mother’s words echoed in Tadhg’s ears as he studied himself in the bathroom mirror. ‘It’s time.’ She had taken another day off work and stopped by for a cup of tea. As she spoke she had given him a sympathetic smile and a nod. As if she were attempting to usher him past a questionable period of his life. A tone she might have used when telling him to turn off the tv and study or to start applying for jobs. It was the tone that suggested she had waited silently, not passing judgment, until finally, she couldn’t wait any longer if they continued to be seen in public together. ‘It covers your eyes. You have such beautiful blue eyes.’

She was right, he knew. It had been nearly two years since he had gotten it cut. There was never a need when COVID had hit and it became something of a novelty. His hair had become curly and long enough to tie, first in a bun and then a tail. But it had started to look straggly in recent weeks and was irritating to sleep on. Feck it … today was the day.

With a determined walk, Tadhg made his way to Dundrum village. Going down the main street he thought he passed two old school friends but with the masks across their faces, he couldn’t be sure. There was that awkwardness of preparing to say “hi“ whilst still being unsure if he should, one of the new social norms the pandemic had brought. But it wasn’t all so bad with the masks, Tadhg mused. Without one he never would’ve had the balls to order a flat white with oat milk which he had gotten almost daily on his winter morning walks.

As he walked through the little village he knew so well, he marvelled that until this day he had not actually noticed how many barbers were in Dundrum. He walked past The Grafton Barber, The Best Barber, Cut and Sew, New Man Barber, and, The Barber Cabin. Making up what now Tadhg assumed was the haircut capital of Ireland. But today he wasn’t going to his usual barber. No no no. He didn’t want leather couches and the smell of shaving foam. He didn’t want sports news pipping out of a small television from the 1970’s. Not today. He had crossed a follicle line into long hair and wanted a long hair expert. No trim and small talk about how Manchester United are a shell of their former selves. Today he was following his dear mother’s advice was going to, a hairdresser. And not just any hairdresser at that.

Peter Marks, was large and looked bustling even from across the street. Full of sleek, well-dressed ninjas, Tadhg eyed it as if it were a foreign entity. Puffing out his chest he strolled across the road, almost tripping on the curb, and pushed in the door taking a short breath as if expecting to emerge in Narnia. The bustle was real. Pop music blared almost as loud as the laughter and chatter and there was a cacophony of smells like he was standing in some sort of perfumery.

‘Hello, can I help you?’ An enthusiastic young lady at the front desk asked with a grin that could be made out beneath her Covid mask.

‘Hello. I would like a haircut please.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘I don’t,’ Tadhg said sheepishly. Amateur mistake for such an establishment.

‘I see … just a moment.’ Her fingers did a pitter-patter dance across the keyboard of her computer. ‘Marcus has a cancellation. I can see if he will take you now if that’s ok?’

‘That would be great, thank you.’

‘What would you like today?’

Tadhg felt a little confused. ‘A … a haircut.’

‘Just a cut?’

‘Ye … es …’

‘No problem. Please take a seat and someone will be right with you.’

Tadhg followed her outreached hand to the black leather couch in the foyer feeling very out of place. The main area full well-lit, mirrored workstations was up a small set of stairs where Tadhg could see that all the staff were dressed in black and they marched and danced and swept their way back and forth on the gangways as if taking part in a perfectly choreographed musical number. For him in the foyer, there was a selection of magazines he had no interest in reading and so he simply sat and he did his right leg began to jig up and down ever so slightly.

‘Would you like a drink, sir?’ Another young lady with bubblegum pink hair skidded to a halt on her roller skates right in front of Tadhg and his nervous limb.

‘Oh … water please.’ Tadhg blinked up at her. She had hazel eyes that twinkled as she held her head cocked to one side looking down at him.

‘Sparkling or still?’

‘Oh.’ This was not a position Tadhg often found himself in. ‘I’ll try sparkling, please.’

‘Sparkling it is.’ Bubblegum whizzed away.

Tadhg had no idea why he ordered the sparkling, perhaps to appear more sophisticated. A real salon-goer. Truth be told he had been turned off ever trying it since he heard his friend call it “fart water“. He silently sniggered to himself which didn’t appear out of place in, Peter Mark. In fact, there was more laughter in this building than Tadhg had heard in a long time. Probably since before the lockdown hit. The customers were chatting with their hairdressers as if they were meeting up with old friends. As he thought on it more, he realized he hadn’t been in a room with so many people in over eighteen months. Most of his time had been spent hiking or swimming. Things he could do with a friend without causing issues of social distancing. The normality of the hairdressers almost felt alien in a way. He felt his mask slipping and readjusted it back up over his nose.

‘Tadhg, is it?’ A tall slender man with short silver hair appeared in all black, a black mask, and black latex gloves looking like a sort of gothic surgeon.

‘That’s me.’

‘Nice to meet you. I’m Marcus. Right this way please.’ He spoke in a soft, welcoming tone and Tadhg found himself following immediately. He was led to a wide comfortable chair in front of a large mirror where his glass of fart water was waiting for him.

‘Now, what can we do for you today?’ Marcus asked as he gently pulled at Tadhg’s curly locks to examine the length.

‘Well. I’d like a cut. But I think I like a bit of length in it. But I don’t like how it looks now…it’s kind of straggly if you know what I mean? So I think what I’m looking for is a little bit shorter and a lot tidier. Does this make sense?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Tadhg could tell Marcus had a warm smile and was used to customers tripping over their own words and wants. ‘You’re in good hands.’ Tadhg’s leg continued to jig to the point he was making the chair move and Marcus pretended not to notice.

‘May I ask, do you part your hair or push it back?’ This was a very straightforward question. Simple in fact, and Tadhg had no idea how to answer it. ‘Well I sort of,’ Tadhg began motioning with his arm as he spoke to try and make clear what he was trying to say. ‘I push it back and move my hand to the side so …’

‘I see.’

‘You do?’

‘I do.’ Marcus cupped his own chin as his brow furrowed in contemplation. ‘I think.’ Marcus began. Preparing the introduction to his opus. ‘What might work is if we layer it.’

‘Layer it?’

‘Yes. We’ll add layers, shorten it at the ends and give it a cleaner look.’

‘Cleaner?’ This was a good word. A word Tadhg could get on board with as the theme of this hair project. ‘Sounds good.’

‘We’ll take the weight out of you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘No,’ Marcus smiled. ‘I mean your hair. Let’s get you over to the sink for a wash. This way.’

Tadhg followed without hesitation but immediately felt awkward again as the cape Marcus had placed around him fanned out as he walked. He started walking slower so it did not catch as much air as he moved. The girl on roller skates zipped by him and hummed the Batman theme song while giving Tadhg a cheeky wink.

‘Here we are.’ Marcus gestured to a chair that backed onto a sink in a sort of phone booth. ‘Apologies for the partitions, but we have to take certain steps because of covid.

‘Oh … no worries.’

Tadhg sat down. As soon as his ass touched the leather chair there was humming and it started to slowly move back until Tadhg was looking up at Marcus’s upsidedown face.

‘You can remove your mask now. Conditioner?’

‘Sure why not. Condition away.’ Tadhg shrugged as he removed his blue mask and stuffed it in his pocket.

Marcus let the water run a little to test the temperature and with care began to let the water cascade down Tadhg’s head.

‘Is this your first time here?’ Marcus asked sounding genuinely interested as opposed to going through the motions.

‘Yes. Well … no. My mum comes here and I’ve had to come in with her when I was small but first time as a customer.’

‘I see. Has she been coming here long?’

‘As long as I can remember.’

‘I’ve been cutting hair here for thirty years, perhaps I’d know her to see.’ Marcus began to massage a fruity-smelling liquid into Tadh’s scalp.

‘She looks like me, she’s small and bubbly. Her name is Nora. Nora O’Byrne.’

Marcus’s finger stopped moving. ‘Oh my god. Yes, Nora. Oh, I know her well. So you’re Dotty’s nephew?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘And Angie also.’

‘Yes. Aunty Dot and Angela. Jaysus do you cut all their hairs?’

‘I’ve been doing their hair since nineteen-ninety-two. Probably for your confirmation and graduation and any other major life event.’

‘Jaysus that’s mad.’

‘And which one are you?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Which son … you have a brother don’t you? Are you seeing the American or the Continental?’

‘Ah ha ha ha. The American.’

‘So your brother just moved to Wicklow?’

‘He did.’

‘Tell him not to worry about the commute … its not as bad as everyone says it is.’

‘I will.’ Tadhg was starting to realize this man may know way more about him than he had anticipated. ‘Do you live there yourself?’

‘Oh, I’m even further. I’m from Dundrum originally but I live in Courtown now.’

‘That’s some distance.’

‘I make it up in under an hour.’

‘That’s decent. Dublin traffic could keep you stuck much longer.’

‘And tell me about your father. He was in a golf competition recently wasn’t he?’

‘Oh, I hadn’t heard that myself.’ Crap, was Tadhg a bad son, he wondered? He should really check in with, Dad. ‘But knowing him he probably made a pig’s ear of it.’

‘Is he not good?’

‘Occasionally … by accident.’

‘Bahahahahaha…oh my, you’re terrible. You have your mother’s wicked humor. You can sit forward now.’ Marcus wrapped a towel snuggly around Tadhg’s wet crown and gave it a shake before leading him back to his workstation. Tadhg looked at his frazzled self in the mirror. He looked like a scarecrow which made him snigger while Marcus set up. Already this had gone far better than he expected. The uncomfortable feeling of being potentially identified as a “non-salon-goer“ was quickly washed away by Marcus who had made him feel at home. No wonder so many of his own family were his customers; ‘only in Ireland’, he sighed.

‘Now, you relax here for a moment. I’ll be right back.’ Tadhg sat back in the comfortable leather chair, sipping his icy fart water which had a hint of rosemary to its taste. ‘Ok, let’s get started’ the family hairdresser stated as he returned and began to comb back Tadhg’s hair. Expertly raising it up like a perfectly formed infantry of spaghetti before taking a snip with his scissors. The fallen soldiers dropped onto Tadhg’s neck and shoulders and some all the way to the floor. Marcus maneuvered around the chair with feet light as a feather. His eyes were focused slits, artistically sculpting the scarecrow back to civilization. They continued to talk and Tadhg continued to learn more about his own family from this almost perfect stranger. Every now and then Marcus stopped a passing employee to introduce them to “Nora’s son“. It was as if his mother had a secret life he didn’t know about. Which in an odd sort of way made him feel if possible more proud of her.

‘Do you use gel?’ Marcus asked as he gently gave Tadhg’s locks the gift of right angles with a razor that caught all the light available in the salon.

‘Not often.’

‘May I suggest a pomade?’

‘Hundred percent,’ Tadhg affirmed with a smile.

Marcus scooped out a greasy, waxy, shiny substance from a little tub and began rubbing it intensely into his own palms. ‘When you use a pomade the secret is giving it heat.’

‘Ah … of course.’

With hands as if he were entering combat with the Karate Kid, Marcus delicately began to shape Tadhg’s new hair. It was much tighter around the back and sides but with a little of the covid length left on top. Marcus brought it back and to the side with a calculated sweep of wax-on wax-off movement. Tadhg knew he looked far closer to a troll than a movie star …. but this was about as close to a movie star as he ever had looked before. His teeth even appeared whiter.

‘There we go, good as new. Tighter around the back but I’ve added layers up to the top.’

‘I don’t know what that means, Marcus. But it looks really good. Thank you very much.’

‘The pleasure is mine. Now get out of here and set up an appointment for three months’ time with Alice.’

‘I will.’ Tadhg stood up. He felt like he should hug Marcus goodbye but thought that might be a bit weird. Instead, he settled for a firm nod and made his way back to the front desk, where the young lady with bubblegum pink hair smiling at him earnestly.

‘Hello,’ she said.

‘Hi … Alice?’ Tadhg found himself looking straight into her hazel eyes.

‘Every inch of me,’ her smile became a grin. ‘Was everything ok for you today, sir?’

‘Everything was great thank you. Marcus asked me to …’

‘Make a follow-up. Three months wasn’t it?’

‘Correct.’ Silently Tadhg cursed himself for saying that. Why couldn’t he have just said, “yes“. What was he … a gameshow host? Alice’s fingers danced on the keyboard. ‘Done.’

‘Great. How much do I owe.’

A shadow seemed to crawl over Nora’s face as she looked at him. Tadhg wasn’t sure if he had said something wrong.

‘Oh … I’m sorry I thought Marcus mentioned it to you. There’s no charge.’

‘Wha … why?’

‘On account of your, Mum. We were all very sorry to hear about her diagnosis.’

‘Wha …’

‘She’s a wonderful, lady. She leaves a present for me here every Christmas. Heart of gold she has. Please tell her I was asking for her.’

‘Yeah … yeah she does.’ Tadhg’s mind flashed back. He had seen so much of his mum the past few months. She kept dropping by … she kept taking days off work. But it wasn’t too odd, was it? The weather had been so nice. And she loved going on strolls through the Wicklow hills. A heavy bulge began to form at his center. Like a fist had reached inside of him and was squeezing his lungs, his heart. Stopping them from working, making them swell. He walked away from Alice without saying a word. Perhaps she spoke to him again but Tadhg simply could not hear anything. He pushed through the glass door out into the fresh air and at the same time, a heat within him rose quickly up from his belly and into his head. Tadhg felt light and dropped to his knees. The concrete was rough and cold under his palms. He steadied himself and took deep breaths. A hand was placed on his shoulder and he heard his name.

‘Call my mum,’ was all he could manage to say. ‘I want to see my mum.’

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