The Pirate House is a touristy restaurant in Savannah, Georgia, but fun-touristy. A touristy spot the locals go to. Especially for dessert.
Ellie and I had not yet been to the Pirate House together, so this to me made it a perfect spot for our three-month anniversary dinner.
I had just finished her monthly trim a few hours before, cropping her shorter than usual, her hair now in more of a long flattop than the short boy-cut she had before. She noticed the difference immediately as I ran the clippers over the top of her head, and was eating now in studied silence.
“I need to find the restroom,” she said after finishing her glass of wine.
I pointed to the direction of the restrooms, and she collected her purse and walked toward them.
What women do in a restroom is, to a male, unknown and probably unknowable. It was at the point of thinking I had been stood up, were it not that I had the car keys and Ellie did not.
As I was pondering what dessert to order for my wife, she returned, followed by an apparition in a green dress, that even in the dim light of the Pirate House, I could tell perfectly matched her eyes.
A wealth of copper-colored hair was piled expensively on top of her head. She had no jewelry, for any such adornment would have detracted from the elegance that screamed oh so subtly.
“Sorry I took so long, Martin. But Ada wanted to meet you,” Ellie said.
“I saw Ellie in the restroom and fell in love with her cut. I have been thinking about going short myself, but everything my stylist comes up with is so generic. So I asked Ellie who cut her hair – I would like to make an appointment.”
“I told Ada that you were just a kitchen barber and didn’t have a shop, but she wanted to see you anyway,” Ellie amplified.
“That cut is so stunning on Ellie, I think it is just perfect. And we share the same face type, I think it would look good on me, although my hair doesn’t have the texture her’s has. Still, I would love to give that cut a try. I hate to impose – I understand this is an anniversary for you! That is wonderful! But would it be possible for you to cut my hair? I really don’t know how to describe Ellie’s cut to anyone else.”
“Well,” I said, “Ellie is right. I am not a professional stylist. I just cut Ellie’s hair the way I like it. I am flattered, but I am just a kitchen-cutter.”
Ada pursed her perfect lips.
“What if I resort to bribery? Ellie, I have a boutique that has stocked a lot of clothes that -- well, frankly, I over-estimated the market for. As it happens they are in the trunk of my car. I was going to have them cleaned and returned to the designers. I am going to take a huge loss on them no matter what I do. Could we trade? Clothes for a cut. Please say yes.”
Ellie’s eyes flickered with life. Maybe she didn’t like her haircut, but she did love clothes. And my newspaper salary did not supply many chances for her to indulge herself.
“Martin, really, I mean, well, if Ada understands that you are not a professional stylist, well, I don’t object to you having another client besides me.”
“You guys are serious about this?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” Ellie and Ada said in unison, then looking at each other, laughed.
We paid our respective bills, Ellie electing to drive with Ada to show her the way to the apartment, and presumably to talk clothes.
Meanwhile, I scampered home and set up my shop – not really certain what I had gotten myself into. Ellie hated it when I had cut her roommates’ hair in college. But, Ada’s impending cut was benefitting Ellie – obvious enough if I thought about it. But all these machinations were going to make for an interesting marriage.
The girls arrived several minutes later, with Ellie burdened by an armload of clothes that even to my untutored male eye were of extraordinary quality.
While Ellis was busy in the bedroom, sorting through her new-found treasures, Ada saw the stool by the barbering equipment and unhesitatingly sat down.
“Ada,” I said softly in her ear. “This is not to be expected. I didn’t contract with you to sacrifice your hair. I just wanted someone to admire Ellie’s cut.”
Ada smiled a luminous smile. “Martin, this is no sacrifice. Ellie does have a stunning haircut, and I would absolutely love to have you cut my hair. Very short. Like Ellie’s. Please.”
“Did I miss anything?” Ellie asked, bouncing into the kitchen. “Oh, Ada, are you sure? Your outfits are stunning.”
Ada laughed. “I am glad someone thinks so. No, they are your outfits now, and a bargain well made. I can’t wait to see what Martin does with this mop of mine.”
“Hmmph, I hardly call that a mop. It’s gorgeous. Are you certain you want it all chopped off? I would kill to have my hair long again.”
“Maintenance, as you know, Ellie, is a beast. Martin, shall I remain seated or would you prefer I stood while you cut?”
“Seated is fine, Ada,” I said draping the cape and securing the snaps.
I took out the simple but terribly elegant claps that held her hair together on top of her head, and immediate, the riot of red hair tumbled down her back.
“You see now why I have been dreaming of getting this sheared off. It tends to come undone at the most inopportune times.”
I combed through Ada’s mass of hair.
“Cut?” I inquired.
“Cut,” she verified.
“Short?”
“Very short, very striking,” Ada affirmed.
“Bend your head down.”
I hate giving two women the same cut, so while Ada requested a replication of Ellie’s cut, I wanted something that would accent Ada’s compelling eyes.
I let her heavy mane cascade over her face and tumble down toward her lap. Slipping on the quarter-inch clipper guide, I slipped the clippers beneath her hair on her nape and pushed them toward her crown.
Ada’s hair started tumbling to the floor in great sheets, leaving a cropped copper-colored mat behind, that beautifully exposed her magnificently-shaped head.
“Oh, Martin,” my wife exclaimed with shock.
“This feels perfect, Martin,” Ada said soothingly.
In any event, we were all committed. Ada’s hair was, in a series of sweeps, clipped to a quarter-inch on her back and sides, leaving two and half feet of hair to cover the floor.
After the hair over her ears had been clipped in a clean outline, I attacked the top with shears.
I reduced th
e crown to a half-inch, gradually increasing the length of her hair until she had bangs that arced asymmetrically across her forehead, the right side being an inch longer than the left.
Then, to feather and texturize the top, I used thinning shears over the comb to reduce bulk an increase the layering.
After half an hour of steady work, I removed the barber’s cape from Ada’s neck.
“Now, see if you want to take back any of your clothes,” I said, handing Ada a mirror.
“Oh, Martin!” Ada cried softly. “Better than I could have ever imagined. This is perfect. Oh, I am
thrilled. Ellie, you have
no idea what a cut like this would cost in New York or Los Angeles or London. Martin, this is
brilliant. Thank you!”
We chatted for a few minutes about inconsequential things, then Ada, citing fatigue, said it was time she left.
We are downtown,” I said. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“And I will start on the kitchen,” Ellie said laughing.
The elevator door opened, and Ada pressed the button for the ground level. As the car started descending, she pursed her lips again, and then pressed the STOP button with a beautifully-manicured finger. The car jolted to a stop.
“Ada, about your hair. I will pay you for what you did, It was never my intention that you cut your hair tonight.”
“Martin,” Ada said turning to me. “I am an escort. I make no apologies for it, that is why you hired me tonight. That makes me in the relationship business. People – men and women – hire me for two reasons: one is to be seen with someone attractive, the other is to forget someone who is not attractive.
“But you hired me to make your wife feel better. That has not happened to me before – no one else has ever done that. And no one else has been concerned about
me, what was happening to me in the fulfillment of my job. You have no idea how special that is.”
She paused, looked down, and for the first time saw a flicker of indecision. This lasted but a moment.
“You have to learn to read people quickly in some professions. Martin, this is really not what I am being paid for, but I will get into it anyway. You know that much of Ellie’s sexual identity is tied to her hair. You have taken that from her, and with it much of her sense of sexual attractiveness. This is going to cause problems – it probably already has, or you would not have contacted me.”
I looked into those clear green eyes that met mine without apology.
“Ellie has always been a … free spirit, I guess. I knew going in I needed some type of control over her or she would be uncontrollable. And I think she actually
does look much better, much
sexier with her hair short.”
“I agree, the cut you have on her is stunning. But, the perception is still that long hair is sexy, short hair is dikeish. I don’t agree, but I confess I often have minority opinions about a lot of things. And just so you know, I do really love this cut. It is stunning on me, I really appreciate what you did.”
She opened her clutch, and pulled out a fountain pen and small pad of paper. In a fluid, elegant script, she wrote out a phone number.
“When she leaves, Martin, call. This is my private number. No one else has it.”
She looked unflinchingly into my eyes.
“I would like to hear from you.”
I looked at the slip of paper with the phone number, smiled and gave it back to her.
“Best I don’t have this,” I said.
“Then you aren’t…of course, I understand. Forgive me, I made an assumption.”
“No, not that. It’s best I don’t have the phone number written by a woman. Ellie can be – inquisitive.”
Ada smiled. “You have a good memory for phone numbers then.”
I smiled back. “Not really. Except for the area code, this is Ellie’s old phone number when we were in college.”
Ada burst out laughing. “That is really too much information, Martin. You could have simply acknowledged your ability to remember important numbers and been fine.”
With that, Ada pressed the RUN button and the elevator continued to the first floor.
“Oh, you had better come up with an excuse why it took so long to get to the lobby. Your kitchen window overlooks the front of the building. Ellie will be timing you. Stopped at a floor by a husband fighting with his wife about money and the kids is always a good reason, if you need one in a hurry.”
“You could be dangerous if you used your powers for evil,” I said.
“But I don’t Martin. Believe me, I don’t.”
We said our very public, very proper good-byes by her five-series BMW, and I returned to my apartment.
Ellie was just finishing getting the kitchen sorted. Ada’s hair filled most of the trashcan. “I hope you weren’t planning on keeping any souvenirs,” she said smiling. “Trouble with the elevator? It took you a while to get back.”
“Oh… got stopped down by three…. Man and woman having a… discussion… about money and kids. One started to leave, the other decided to leave, and we were stuck.”
“Hmmm… the guy was a jerk.”
“You weren’t even there.”
“The guy is always the jerk, didn’t you know that?”
“I’m beginning to.”
Ellie rubbed her hand over her head, in a sign of exhaustion. “Time for bed,” she said. “Long night.”
“Long night,” I agreed.
“I hope it will be,” Ellie said slyly. “A long, hard night.”
And it was. But, Ada was right. Despite the surge in enthusiasm prompted by Ada’s attention to her haircut, Ellie soon sulked about her monthly clippings. She started taking extended weekends away, coming back with her hair having been freshly cut during her absence. In six months, she announced she was leaving for an extended stay back home, divorce papers followed a month later. Though mutual friends, I heard she had re-married a month later. That was my Ellie – always had contingencies.
I saw a five-series BMW cruise by the apartment, with a striking copper-colored head at the wheel. Coincidence, probably. But, I picked up the phone and punched in the long-remembered number.
A rich contralto picked up on the second ring.
“Martin! So glad you called!” Ada said without preamble. “I do so
desperately need a haircut. May I make an appointment?”
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