Page 42 of Melt With You

‘I’ll do the color. Nina will do the cut. You’ll look fucking amazing.’

They were offering her a makeover, and Dori felt herself balking at the idea. She was the one who gave other people makeovers. She wasn’t the one who got one.

‘For the party,’ Bette insisted. ‘We’ll all go looking entirely different. People won’t know what hit them.’

Nina had already let her hair down. Literally. Her trademark beehive, a look that she was never without, had been chopped into a pixie style and dyed a shiny cinnamon. She looked more like Columbia now than Magenta. Bette had gone brunette, with little curls around her face, looking quite a lot like her idol, Betty Boop.

Dori knew it was her turn.

‘We’ll fix it if you don’t like the results. I swear.’

Dori closed her eyes. She tried to imagine how she’d felt the first time she’d chopped off all her hair. The thrill of doing something so totally out of character. The shock on people’s faces when they saw what she’d done. Violet had been right there with her, holding her hand. This time, Bette would be.

Finally, Dori nodded, and Bette let out her big whoop of a laugh. ‘Wonderful. Nobody will recognize you. I swear!’

She saw the gleam in Nina’s eyes, an expression she remembered from her youth. Nina was always interested in a challenge.

‘You’re ready to get rid of the length?’ she asked, and Bette added, ‘Not just the silver?’

Dori nodded. As ready as she’d ever be.

The women chatted around her as they worked, as if she weren’t there. She knew what that felt like, to be completely focused on a client’s face, unable to actually see the person behind the cheekbones, the eyes, the lips. Determined to create a masterpiece using the materials at hand. But once Nina had chopped off her shoulder-length hair and given her a similar cut to the one she sported for graduation, the intensity in the room dropped.

Now, the trio could relax, with Dori’s long hair scattered on the floor around them. She would not look in the mirror until they were done. She decided that from the start. Not wanting to watch the progress in pieces. Instead, she focused on the pictures on the wall, losing herself in her thoughts until she heard Nina say, ‘It’s so sad about Van,’ and she turned her head abruptly, startled.

‘Don’t do that,’ Nina admonished her. ‘I almost cut your ear.’

‘But what’s sad?’

Bette shrugged. ‘He’s tough, so it doesn’t seem to bother him.’

‘What doesn’t?’

‘You know he sleeps in the van, right?’

Dori’s eyes widened. She’d had no idea.

‘He doesn’t like to let on. You know how he is.’

‘But why?’ Dori asked, shocked. Was this why Van was always available, showing up in the middle of the night, seeming to be so thrilled at the chance to sleep at her house?

‘His situation’s rough. His dad left years ago. His mom remarried this year, and he and his stepdad don’t get on. He got kicked out a few months ago. He bounces from friend to friend, but when there’s nobody available, he just kips back there. I’ve told him, my sofa is always open, but he’s not comfortable staying over when I have company.’

‘But why doesn’t he get an apartment?’ Dori asked.

‘He’s saving up,’ Nina told her. ‘First. Last. Security. But it’s hard to get credit at his age, get people to take you seriously.’

‘His age,’ Dori repeated, dumbly.

‘You know, Emma. Van just turned eighteen.’

When Bette swung Dori around to face her reflection, she said, ‘You look shocked.’

But Dori didn’t even see herself. Her mind was focused on what Bette and Nina had just told her. Pieces of the puzzle, or rather forgotten memories, were suddenly coming back to her. What had happened to Van and his band, what had happened prior to the big event.

They’d been all ready to head down there, but the night before, his truck had blown up. Faulty wiring. Nobody had known that Van had slept in the truck. He’d gotten out, barely, but the instruments – all packed in for the trip in the morning – had been demolished, and there hadn’t been time to replace them.

Her mind was whirring too fast. Slept in the truck. Is that why he was so interested in crashing at her house? Why he had taken to hanging out with her? She’d forgotten that part of her history, and she’d never thought to ask to visit his own place, had simply let herself believe he had an apartment somewhere. Roommates. A roof over his head. It had been easy to lose track of other people’s problems, she thought, because she’d been so consumed by her own. But there’d never been a time when Van had complained. When he had said anything about his life. Pulling down two jobs. Trying to find space to rehearse anywhere – in a garage, abandoned warehouse, anywhere.

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