Page 22 of Ruling Scar
“Does it still hurt?”
Physically no. But I know that’s not what she’s asking.
“I don’t mind having it.”
She levels me with a look.
“I mean.” I try to find the right words. “In the scheme of things, it’s not the worst thing that could have happened.”
“That’s a pretty positive way of looking at it.”
I think that’s a good thing, but Janis says it weirdly.
Sometimes I hate this. She teases things out or alludes to stuff I don’t understand.
“Does your hair get in your way?” she asks.
I sigh. “Yes.”
She smiles coyly, her spine straightening. “I think we have a new challenge for this week.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Style it differently. It doesn’t always have to be up and it can be simple, but let’s have a hair moment.”
“I can barely do my hair as it is.”
“Watch some videos,” she suggests. “Put the internet to use.”
She pulls a scrunchie from around her wrist and throws it to me. It lands on my lap and I stare down at it.
My therapist grins. “You’d be amazed at what can happen on a good hair day.”
Sometimes I think Janis is full of shit, but a week later I’m walking to catch my train home when I cross paths with Leopold Stuart.
We went to university together and I’m pleased when the nerves that normally go haywire, settle for only a slight flurry of butterflies.
“Hi.” He wrinkles his brow slightly like he can’t believe who he’s seeing. Which in all fairness, we haven’t crossed paths since graduation, years ago. “I didn’t know you’d moved back.”
We went to college in upstate New York. It was always my plan to move back, so it’s more of a surprise to see Leopold in the city.
“Are you?” He points over his shoulder toward the train.
“Yeah.”
Mom hates that I commute and would rather an armed guard drive me in each day. I keep telling her that not only is that overkill, it’s also terrible for the planet. I can grab the express train like the thousands of other commuters.
We shuffle out of the way of annoyed pedestrians as we try to catch up with each other. Ferdinand, the guard almost constantly with me, keeps his distance, but I see him eyeing Leopold.
As if he has anything to worry about.
Leopold only goes by his full name, never by Leo. He’s tall with gorgeous curly golden hair and kind blue eyes.
He’s a shining example of polite and friendly. I’m certain it’s because he treats everyone this way, that I’m able to talk to him without being my usual socially awkward self.
“I like your hair,” he mentions.
It’s pulled into a high ponytail. After leaving my last therapy session, I spent the first few hours annoyed at Janis before begrudgingly going online. Turns out I’m shit at braiding and messy buns are way harder than they seem.
