"We rocked back and forth as if some raggedy sense had snuck back into our lives." -James Tate, from Worshipful Company of Fletchers

Blend

I was busy on a day of running errands. My next stop was a haircut, which was long overdue. I drove to Carl’s Barber Shop, where I was a loyal customer, going every month for at least ten years. As the familiar bell tinkled when I opened the door, I was met by an unfamiliar barber. Hello, sir. How can I help you the unfamiliar barber said. Where’s Carl I said. Carl has been having some health issues. My name is Jeremy, and I’m here to watch shop for a little while, until Carl recovers. Jeremy was older. At least sixty, with a magnificent head of brilliantly white hair. He wore thick-rimmed glasses with thick glass, magnifying his blue eyes slightly. I decided to trust him with my hair. I had other, bigger, more important errands to run that day, anyway. Ok, well, my name is Henry Hudsin. Has Carl mentioned anything about me I said. Jeremy’s eyes brightened. Oh, Mr. Hudsin, Carl has told me all about you, how you’ve been one of his most valued customers for at least the last decade he said. I smiled. Yes, yes, well, has he told you how I like my hair to be cut I said. Jeremy nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. Of course, of course, I think I can handle it he said. I would have been surprised if he said he couldn’t. It was really just a trim with the scissors, nothing all too spectacular. He sat me in one of the chairs, wrapping a cloth around my neck, draping it over my front. He disinfected his comb, and pulled out a spray bottle, spraying my hair wet, and combing it every which way. He then pulled out a pair of scissors, and started cutting away. How’s your day going Jeremy said. Oh, just fine. Busy. Lots to do, still, also I said. Jeremy then pulled out a pair of shears, and started using those on my hair. Tough hair, you’ve got there he said. How long have you been cutting hair I said. Oh, my whole life, really. My father was a barber, and my grandfather, and his father. As far back as I know, I come from a very long line of barbers he said. He then pulled out clippers, and began buzzing the back of my head. Is that so I said. Jeremy nodded. Hold on just one moment he said, walking over to the back room. He walked back, holding a set of pliers and a small saw. With the pliers, he would tug at a tuft of my hair, and then saw it off with the small saw. Er, are you sure you know what you’re doing I said. Jeremy stopped, set his tools down, and sat in the chair next to mine. He buried his face in his hands, and began crying. I’m sorry he said. I’m no good. I shook my head. No, no, really, it’s alright I said. He began crying even harder. I never was a good barber. I only started because I thought I would make my father proud, but I just don’t have a knack for cutting hair he said. It’s just hair, really I said. I’m old, and lonely, and I’m afraid that I’ll die without having accomplished a thing as a barber. I wasn’t sure what to do. I had to get going soon, with all the other errands to run, but I didn’t want to leave this poor wreck alone. I went to him and put my hand on his shoulder. Hey, listen there, pal I said. He looked up at me, sniffling like a small child. Would you like to come with me I said. I have some very important errands to run, still, and I could use a hand. Jeremy looked around the shop. Well, I’ll have to close up, but that’s all right, now that you’ve come in. You’re the only customer Carl’s got he said. I felt a sense of pride and sadness all at the same time. Jeremy locked up Carl’s Barber Shop, and we walked to my car hand in hand, and I knew he was pretending I was his father, taking him on some sort of adventure, and I didn’t mind.