The shock written all over his face has me feeling guilty. The guilt has weakened my knees and they are almost buckling under me. Two must notice it, because he holds my waist and says, "Come sit." Pulling me towards the mattress.
I plop onto the matress, my legs folded under me. "Do you mind sharing the reason why you felt like hiding away such beautiful hair?" He asks, sitting across me on the mattress. His question comes as a shock, 'beautiful'. He must be visually impaired or something.
I raise an eyebrow in question and he says, "Yes, your hair is beautiful. It complements your features perfectly. So tell me why you had it hidden away this whole time."
I sigh in defeat and reply, "Every reason to believe that it's pretty was taken away from me." "Taken away? You lost me there. You mind enlightening me." He says, coaxing for more. I reach for my pink teddy bear and coil into a corner, readying myself to tell the story for the first time. I'm both relieved and and nervous. I have finally found someone who is willing to listen to me and i don't know how to go about it.....
"I was adopted by a rich family when I was a baby. They had two sons and had tried having a daughter but all science failed them. My foster mom always told me that I should be grateful for the in vitro fertilisation, intrauterine insermination and all the medicine she had tried that had failed. Apparently, my foster dad is the one who had pushed for adoption when his wife was falling into depression. I worked as a pain relief for a few years."
I stop and peep at Two through my lashes, he's face is serene and his full focus is directed at me. I even spot a splinter of sympathy on his face. I hate sympathy, he seems to read my mind and composes himself. "I'm listening, continue," he says.
So I do.
"I used to have jet black hair, but when I turned five, it started to discolor and finally took this shade." I say, pulling at my curls with a pout. "My foster brothers took up a new hobby, picking a new nickname everyday. They would tease me saying that I had color shifting hair. They started calling me names, like Carrot top, Spitfire, Copper and Rossi. It stung my five year old heart."
Surprise tears stream down my cheeks. "Stupid memories." I say, wiping away my tears. I don't even realize when he moves, he moves me forward and sits behind me, spooning me. He leans on the wall and pulls me in.
"Those stupid memories are a part of who we are. I want to hear all of it. Talking about it will ease the bitterness you hold against your brothers." He says, trying to calm me down.
"Well, I guess you're right. I'll get out with it."I say.....
" That's how it was for me all the way through school. They made it worse by introducing the names at school. Well, you know how it is, bad things spread like veld fires. My hair color became the foundation for the bullying I experienced in grade school all through to middle school. My outspoken nature was forced into a closet and that's how I became an introvert against my natural nature"
"When I got enrolled in junior high, I told my mom that I wanted to dye my hair. Guess what she said." I say, turning my upper body to face him.
All the time I was narrating my childhood to him he had his head buried in my hair. I'm frozen in shock when he lifts his face, it's stained with shed tears. Some are still collected in his eyes making them appear a steamy green, adding an alluring, mysterious touch to them.
"You are crying? You are supposed to be my support system yet you are the one breaking down." I say, teasing him. He clears his throat, and replies "I didn't think that I would ever sit and listen to someone tell me that they have lived a life I've only ever read about. "Well here you are." I say, giggling. I'm trying to lighten the mood despite the tightening in my chest.
I have finally revealed one of the skeletons hidden in my closet. It's a relief.
"She told me that if I wanted to change it I would have to pay for it from my own pocket." I continue moving back into my former position. "You remember me telling you that they were rich right? Well, they were filthy rich but they expected their daughter to take care of her own hair, imagine."
"Her reason buffled me more than her expectations, she told me that the only thing I brought to her house was my pink teddy bear," I cuddle my teddy bear closer to me. "So I wasn't supposed to think of myself as entitled to her husband's fortune."
"I actually grew to like my hair you know. Overtime I developed this acceptance of myself. It's just that I couldn't go around parading the love so I settled for wigs."
"So you're doing it for the people, not for yourself?" He asks, to which I reply, "Yuhh, my flaming red beauty blinds them." His eyes crinkle with delight as he smiles pulling me in for a back hug.
"Is your mother the reason you kept this teddy bear?" He asks pulling the teddy to him. "Because she suggested it's the only thing you had?" I reply, just to feed his curiosity, "Well, I'm hoping that it will help me find my birth mother. Apparently it's the only link between us."
I realize how much I've been holding onto this hope when I say it. A knot in my chest continues to tighten. I have never given it too much thought, I've always thought of myself as an independent lady but the feeling I'm having seems to prove otherwise.
"Thank you," he says, planting a kiss on my cheek. "What for?" I'm blushing but still had to ask. "For trusting me with your baggage." He replies, grinning. "Oow." I manage to say.
Well I have only scrapped off the coating of my story. I didn't tell him about the real reason to the change of my perspective of my hair. I don't trust him enough to tell him yet.
"So, are you going to tell me why you left their house?" He asks. I turn to face him, and I'm met with puppy eyes. A sight that's to behold on his face. I almost give in but resist the temptation instead.
"It's time to go home, it's late." He continues to pout, it earns him a full humoured laugh from me. "C'mon cowboy, I'll walk you out." I say, extending my hand to him in invitation.
He finally gives in and we head for his car.
He turns to leave and I do to. I'm almost at the front doors when a hand lands on my shoulder, I turn around to see him staring down at me with a look I can't decipher. "We need to find a way to make the world accept your flaming red beauty." Amusement almost takes over his features, but the serious note in his voice tells me that he is serious.
"Sure, do you have a plan?" I ask, staring up at him. He just smiles and says head inside I'll fill you in once it's done. I give him a 'really?' look and stomp my feet heading inside.
I'm lying on my back, holding my pink teddy, replaying the whole night.
He spent the whole night in my room but still didn't make a pass at me. He didn't ask for sex again, I'm probably not good looking enough for him. But he did spend his time listening to my sob story, I should cut some slack for the man.
I'm not used to such treatment, I've never experienced it. My mind is giving me a hard time, I can't find the right category for him.
Could he be just playing nice to get back at me later, but no he couldn't have faked all those tears and feigned those emotions.
I roll over and check my phone. I have a booking. My conscience is against it, thinking it could be betrayal to Two, spending most of the night with him and completing it with another. But he hasn't made his intentions clear. I'm torn.
I tug at my hair trying to make a decision. Being a sentimental goody two shoes won't pay my bills or buy me dinner. My pathetic mind is still screaming at me to accept the invitation.
I stare at my phone for a good long while, the bell icon has a 1 written over it, showing the booking. I press it and deliberate between pressing the green or red button.
Two's face flashes through my mind, his green eyes and pearl white smile.
I opt for the red button and decline, my $300 slipping through my fingures.
Could the morning glory in my dream from last week be related to him.