Page 10 of Smooth As Whiskey

Adeline smiled at her, “Hi, Ms. Combs, I’m Mrs. Adams, Paisley’s teacher. I called you before we came.”

Ms. Combs seemed to soften at that, and gone was the shaking.

Once we reached the cement steps, she smiled, “Please, call me Holly, and come in.”

A little girl was curled up under blankets on the couch in the living room. Dull eyes stared up at us.

Adeline moved first, kneeling in front of Paisley.

“Hey, Paisley. How are you feeling?” she asked her.

The little girl shrugged.

I let go of Irish’s hand, not realizing it was wrapped in his, and followed suit with Adeline.

“Hi, Paisley, my name is Sutton. It’s an honor to meet you.”

She smiled, but it was missing the spark that most little kids always seemed to have.

“So, Mrs. Adams told me that some little mean kids made fun of you, I am so sorry about that. But... It's a good thing because I get to meet an amazing little fighter.” I told her.

She smiled; a little spark came through.

I would take that.

“And you want to know something else? See the two big men behind me?” I asked her as I turned my head and looked back at Irish and Coal, then back at Paisley.

She nodded.

“I have a feeling that once we leave here tonight, they are going to pay a visit to all those mean kids and give them a good talking to. That alright with you?” I asked.

She giggled, then nodded.

Therefore, I continued, “I’ve been a hairdresser for almost two years now. I’m here to make that beautiful soul you haveshine even brighter. I know this is going to be hard, but can I let you in on a little secret?”

Her eyes widened, and then she slowly nodded, “I’ve cut grown men’s hair before, and they have bawled like a baby.” I held up two fingers, “Girl code. We don’t lie to other girls.”

She giggled, then looked at her mother, and then back at me, and slowly nodded.

Once everything was set up, she was in a chair in the living room, both of her hands held by Adeline and her mother. I worked on cutting off all of her hair.

My heart broke for the little girl, and tears threatened to spill over my eyes. To hide how I was feeling, I knelt once I was finished and smiled up at her, then I whispered, “You know the good thing about having a bald head?”

She shook her head.

“You don’t have to shampoo or condition. Makes bath time so much easier and gives you more time to play. But in your case, to make works of art. My girl, Mrs. Adams, told me about all the beautiful things you create.”

With the back of her hand, she wiped at the tears on her cheek. Then I heard one of the sweetest voices I’d ever heard, “Would you like to see them?”

I smiled. If this little girl wanted to show me her art collection, then I would happily sit on my ass and marvel at each piece.

“You bet your cute little bootie I do,” I told her.

She smiled, jumped out of the chair, and ran to another part of the house.

Her mother was wiping tears from her eyes when she whispered, “You didn’t have to come. Thank you. She has a lot, if you need to leave, I’ll understand.”

I winked at her, “I gave her my word. I won't go back on it. She can have a million pieces of artwork, and I’ll look at every single one of them. If that’s alright with you.”

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