Chapter 1: The Hair He Hated
“Looking so much like your daddy makes you happy, huh? I want to see you cry.””
Curtis never said those words aloud.
He didn't have to.
He stood behind eight-year-old Zion, watching the little boy's reflection in the bathroom mirror. His right hand held a black electric clipper. His left hand rested against Zion's shoulder.
Dark, curly hair lay scattered across the towel covering the child's shoulders.
One side of Zion's head had already been shaved almost to the skin.
The other side still had the thick, beautiful curls he had spent years growing.
Zion stared at himself in the mirror. His lower lip trembled.
It was school picture day.
The night before, he had carefully picked out his favorite blue shirt and laid it across the foot of his bed. He had even asked his mother, Tiana, to help him arrange his curls before bedtime.
He wanted his school picture to look exactly the way he imagined.
Like his daddy.
His biological father, Marcus, had died when Zion was three. The boy didn't remember every detail about him, but he remembered the photographs. He remembered the deep laugh in old videos. He remembered the way his mother sometimes smiled when she talked about him.
And he remembered his hair.
Marcus had thick, springy curls that framed his face. Zion had inherited the same curls, and whenever someone mentioned the resemblance, the little boy stood a little taller.
Curtis hated that.
At thirty-nine, Curtis had been married to Tiana for three years. He provided for the household, paid bills, bought groceries, and reminded everyone how much he did.
But there was one thing he could never provide.
He couldn't erase Marcus from Zion's face.
“Please,” Zion whispered, looking at his reflection.
“I like my hair.””
Curtis pressed the clipper against the remaining curls.
The machine buzzed.
A thick section fell onto the towel.
Zion jerked his head away.
“Stop moving,” Curtis ordered.
“It's hurting!””
“It's hair. It'll grow back.””
Curtis moved the clipper again.
“Don't cut anymore!””
The child's voice cracked.
At that exact moment, the bathroom door opened.
“What's going on in here?””
Cora, Tiana's sixty-three-year-old mother, rushed into the room. She had been folding laundry in the hallway when she heard Zion's scream.
She stopped at the doorway.
For a second, she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
Her grandson sat trembling in the chair. One side of his head was nearly bald. His curls covered the towel. Curtis stood over him with the clipper still running.
“Curtis!”” Cora shouted.
“Put that thing down!””
“Ma'am, I'm fixing his hair.””
“Fixing it? Look at that child!””
Cora crossed the bathroom in three quick steps.
She grabbed Curtis's forearm and pushed the hand holding the clipper away from Zion's head.
“Dừng tay! Để nó sang đây!””
“Don't touch me,” Curtis snapped.
“Then don't touch my grandson!””
Cora reached for Zion.
“Come here, baby. Come to Grandma.””
Zion scrambled off the chair.
She guided him away from Curtis, moving him toward the left side of the room before wrapping both arms around his small body.
“It's okay, sweetheart. Grandma's here.””
Zion touched the shaved side of his head.
His fingers stopped.
He looked down at the curls scattered across the towel.
Then he began crying.
Not the loud crying of a child throwing a tantrum.
The quiet, broken kind that made Cora's eyes fill with tears.
“Grandma,” he whispered, “I don't look like Daddy anymore.””
Cora closed her eyes.
“Oh, baby.””
She kissed the top of his head.
“You will always look like your daddy. Nobody can take that away from you.””
Curtis switched off the clipper.
“Can everybody calm down? He's acting like I hurt him.””
Cora looked at him.
“You did hurt him.””
“I gave him a haircut.””
“You shaved half his head without asking his mother.””
“His mother isn't here.””
“Then you should have waited.””
Curtis placed the clipper on the counter, but his expression remained irritated.
“He's eight years old. He doesn't get to decide everything.””
Zion buried his face in Cora's cardigan.
Curtis shook his head.
“Honestly, this is why kids become spoiled. Nobody corrects them anymore.””
Before Cora could answer, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Tiana had just returned from an overnight shift at the hospital.
At thirty-two, she worked long hours and often came home exhausted. But she had made a promise to Zion that she would be home before his school pictures.
She had even stopped at a bakery to buy him a small chocolate muffin.
“Good morning, my handsome boy!”” she called.
She entered the bathroom holding a paper bag.
Her smile disappeared.
The blue shirt.
The towel.
The curls.
Her son hiding in his grandmother's arms.
For several seconds, Tiana didn't move.
“Zion?””
The boy turned toward her.
“Mommy…”
She dropped the bakery bag.
“What happened to your hair?””
Cora answered before Curtis could.
“He did this.””
Tiana looked at her husband.
Curtis shrugged.
“Don't start.””
She stepped closer.
“Curtis, what happened?””
“He needed a haircut.””
Tiana looked at Zion's head again.
“Why is half his hair gone?””
“He wouldn't sit still.””
“Did you ask him if he wanted it cut?””
“It's just hair, Tiana.””
She stared at him.
“It's picture day.””
“So?””
“He picked that shirt last night. He was excited about taking his picture.””
Curtis rolled his eyes.
“Then he'll take another picture next year.””
Tiana's jaw tightened.
She looked down at the black clipper on the counter.
Then she looked at Curtis's perfectly shaped beard.
The beard he visited a barber every two weeks to maintain.
The beard he spent twenty minutes trimming before family gatherings.
The beard he refused to let anyone touch.
“Give me the clipper,” she said.
Curtis frowned.
“What?””
“The clipper.””
“Why?””
Tiana stepped closer.
He still held it loosely in his right hand.
She caught his wrist with her left hand, lowered it away from Cora and Zion, and took the machine with her right.
Curtis released it.
For the first time that morning, the clipper belonged to someone else.
Tiana looked at his beard.
Then she turned the clipper toward the hair beneath his chin.
Curtis immediately stepped backward.
“Don't touch my beard!””
Tiana raised her eyes.
“Your beard will grow back too. Why are you scared?””
Curtis's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Behind her, Cora held Zion tightly.
The boy was safe.
And for the first time in three years, Curtis looked at his wife as if he had no idea what she might do next.
Tiana moved the clipper closer.
The blades hadn't touched his beard.
May you like
But Curtis was already panicking.
And she was only beginning to understand how much he had been hiding.
