Riley pressed her hands on top of my head and pulled her fingers down through my hair. She said, “I can forgive you. As long as you tell me everything about him. And also, let me do whatever I want to your hair.”
A little spasm of alarm shot through me at the idea of giving Riley free rein over my long, black locks.
“Just no color?” I pleaded.
“We’ll see how I’m feeling.”
I proceeded to tell her about David, but I gave her a more abridged version than I’d given River. Riley combed and snipped at my hair, swiveling me around in the chair, listening.
“Sounds like an asshole,” she had noted. I hadn’t disagreed.
She and I continued conversing as she worked meticulously on my head. She had decided to keep me turned away from the mirror until she was finished. She wouldn’t let me look down at the concrete floor, either, to see how much of my hair was scattering and collecting down there. We continued talking at the sink, where she washed my hair with shampoo that smelled like oranges, and back at the chair where she dried and styled me, still keeping me positioned so that I couldn’t see. We talked about Zach, and I could tell that she loved him, although she never explicitly stated it. We talked about high school and missing each other and wanting to do a better job of staying in touch.
“Okay, Mermaid Dragon. Take a look.”
She swiveled me around to face the mirror. She had trimmed off about six inches of my hair. It was now only slightly longer than hers. It ended right above my shoulders with a razor-sharp edge, and she had angled it so that it was longer in the front. I took it in, rotating my neck left and right. I realized that she hadn’t added any color.
“Riley. I love it.”
“Nothing too drastic,” she replied. “I know you, Drew.”
That seemed to be the case. I was relieved that she hadn’t altered the color. I’d never realized before how attached I was to the dark hue of my hair.
“Thank you.” I got out of the chair and hugged her, still donning the cape around my neck.
“Maybe I’ll start using this free haircut thing as an incentive to get you over here more.”
“You could come visit me, too, you know.”
“I mean, I could, but then we wouldn’t have any crazy concerts to go to.”
I laughed and hugged her again. How had I gone three years without seeing Riley?
“I see River’s back just in time.” Riley eyed the window, and there, indeed, was River on the sidewalk, approaching the door, hands in his pockets.
“I have to clean up before my actual first client gets here.” Riley unclasped the cape from around my neck and scurried off with it through a door that read, Employees Only. Before River reached the front door of the salon, I exited the building and met him outside. The day was overcast and cold, but dry, which I appreciated after my night of slipping and getting soaked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with short hair.” River walked up to me and took some of my locks in his hand briefly.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.” He said it decidedly. “You look happy, and I like that.”
River and I opted to walk back to Riley’s house to regroup and figure out what our plans would be for the day. I was able to get a spare key from Riley before her client arrived at the salon, and then we were off. River and I walked together, side-by-side, both of us keeping our hands in our pockets, both of us quiet. I glanced around at all the trendy shops and all the equally trendy pedestrians who were patronizing them. It was busy, the sidewalks clogged with people, but River and I managed to remain at each other’s sides as we moved through the crowds.
“How are your parents?” I looked over at him. His head was tipped down, eyes on his feet.
“My dad retired in Phoenix,” he answered. “He’s into New Age stuff now. Meditation. Vegetarianism. He has a girlfriend. I visited them last year.”
“Wow. That’s not what I’d expect.”
I saw River’s eyebrows arch upward in agreement. “He even let his hair grow out. About as long as yours.”
“Wow,” I said again. I remembered how strict his dad had been about River maintaining a short, proper, respectable sort of haircut when we were growing up.
“And your mom?” I asked.
“She’s still in Rockwood. Same house that’s close to your parents’. I haven’t seen her since I left for New York, but I call her on all the big days.”
“Christmas, Thanksgiving . . .”
“Julian’s birthday,” he said.
I nodded my head, pressing my lips together. “So, you’ve never been back home? To see your mom, or anything?”
“No.”
Back at Riley’s house, I set the spare key on her kitchen counter. River headed for the bathroom, so I decided to clean up the kitchen, washing our mugs from earlier and wiping off the table. My mind was elsewhere as I did so. I was thinking about the dresser back in my bedroom of the apartment. The top drawer, and the contents I’d stashed away under my pajamas. The framed picture. The postcards. The necklace.
River suddenly joined me in the kitchen and approached me. At first, I thought he might hug me, but he just stood there, a kind of seriousness about him that I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“I think it’s time.”
His statement jolted me. Something about this moment felt familiar. Abstract, airy, like everything was made of little particles that were about to drift away.
“It’s time?” I echoed.
“I think I’m going to head out of Seattle. Go check out Vancouver.”
I felt something crumble inside of me then. Something fresh and new and real, tumbling apart.
“Oh.”
My mind began panicking, trying to process this new information as quickly as it could. It was something I should have thought about before—River leaving. Me leaving. Going back on our separate paths. I tried to piece together words swiftly.
“I guess . . . Maybe I’ll head out, too. Go back home. See my parents.”
River didn’t respond at first, but he looked me in the eyes, like he could somehow see my thoughts behind my eyes, like he could study them.
“I know I’ve already tried this before,” he finally said, “and it didn’t work. But I’m going to try again. And I’ll be very clear this time: You could come with me, Drew. I want you to come with me.”
I could feel my jaw unhinge as I heard his words. He spoke again:
“I understand if you won’t do it. I don’t want to guilt you into it. It’s something you have to want. If you say no, that’s okay. But if you go back home, back to school, back to your life over there, you should take that To Do List with you.”
I realized I was gripping a red kitchen towel in my hands the way a bird’s talons grip a tree branch. Language seemed to be eluding me. I forced my fingers to release the towel down to the counter.
River moved closer to me and took a strand of my hair into his hands again. He rubbed it between his fingers. He gazed at it, there in his hand, before looking up to meet my eyes.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Just take the list with you.”
I nodded. At last, I found words to speak. “I will.”