Chapter 1
"How much hair do you want me to cut off?" asked the beautician working on Rena's hair.
"All of it," she answered wearily, her exhaustion and distress barely under control.
"That's a lot of hair to take off," commented the young lady. "About three feet, I would guess."
Rena set her face in a stern grimace, anger seeping into her mood as she spoke between tightly clenched teeth. "I said, all of it!"
The beautician only shook her head as she began to cut the long, auburn, curly strands and gently laid them on her worktable. These locks were worth several hundred dollars from a wig manufacturer.
Rena shut her eyes. The memories flooded back, as they always did when she became still. Her husband's voice rang in her head. You will be so beautiful sitting in this rocking chair with your hair flowing over one breast while you nurse my child with the other. She shuddered at the thought. Roger had been obsessed with her long hair and having a baby. Where did these irrational ideas come from? Why didn't she see it before they were married? That was simple. He never displayed them then. She thought he was the ideal man. He was so sweet, compassionate, thoughtful and kind. How could she have been so wrong about him?
"I need to stand up for a minute, if you don't mind," said Rena, struggling to be polite.
"Not at all," answered the girl wearing a nametag labeled Michelle.
Rena rubbed her hip and took a few steps before seating herself once again.
"Are you all right?" asked Michelle.
Rena nodded her head wearily. "Yes, I had an accident recently. I still get sore if I sit too long."
Michelle, her curiosity piqued, waited for Rena to continue.
Instead, Rena closed her eyes again, hoping this ordeal would be over soon. Her hip throbbed from the bullet wound. Again, the memories crowded her thoughts. Another bullet wound in her shoulder and a third one in her stomach that nearly took her life.
The stay in the hospital had been long and painful. After being released and checking herself out after weeks of recovery, barely able to walk with the assistance of crutches, Rena boarded the taxi that took her to her home. The place of horror where she had barely escaped with her life, terror hanging in the air, ever present, and reminding her of what had taken place there. The gunshots, the pain and finally, oblivion as she passed out, thinking herself dead.
The odors of shampoo, hair spray and permanent wave chemicals permeated Rena's nostrils as she rose to leave, barely glancing in the mirror at her now short hair. The loose curls that framed her face barely reached her ear lobes, showing off the diamond hearts in her ears. Rena shuddered as she opened her purse to pay the bill, but was interrupted by Michelle.
"Ms. Thompson, the hair I cut off can be sold for a good price. I would be willing to pay you for it."
"I don't want any money for that hair," Rena answered tersely.
"Then I can't possibly charge you for your haircut," Michelle told the troubled young woman, waving away the bills in Rena's outstretched hand.
Rena removed the earrings her husband had given her on their wedding day that she hadn't removed since. "Thank you," she said, and handed the beautician the diamond earrings. "A tip for you, Michelle," she said, as she walked out the door.
Michelle stood stunned, staring out the window at the lovely young woman leaving her shop. She held the earrings up to the light and spoke aloud. "The real thing. Why on earth did she give me these?" She smiled and nodded to Rena as she drove off.
Rena sat on the floor with a paper cup full of water and swallowed three ibuprofen tablets. Her body ached. She had accomplished a lot this morning and still had a long drive ahead of her. She had gotten a haircut, signed the final papers to sell her house and had traded in her luxury car for a minivan. The pain subsiding a little, Rena took the opportunity to load the boxes and luggage into her new van. The only thing left now was to make a phone call, but she would have to find a pay phone. The phone in the house had been disconnected that morning.
Rena drove to the nearest convenience store, parked near the phone booth and dialed the number on her phone card, along with her aunt's number. Out of politeness, Rena would ask if she could come for a visit, but she knew she could. Rena would just avoid telling her the reason.
"Hello, Aunt Lou. How are you?"
"Rena, honey, I'm so glad you called. I'm fine. How are you?"
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