The Urge (parts 1-3) by Tightcutoz

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The Urge (parts 1-3 re-written)

[when I originally wrote this story, i did it in a few parts and was a fairly rough draft: I was advised to streamline and edit, so I’ve fixed things to improve it. I'm also submitting the next chapter, part 4.Again, this was inspired by the original deleted story, and any feedback would be much appreciated]

My Saturday started normally enough for me: bolt awake at 0700hrs as always, no matter that it’s the weekend.

I’m always unable to stay in bed, already filled with energy. The house is completely quiet as I pull on my jogging gear and aim to get a run in before the summer weather become too much. I went to the gym yesterday, and I can still feel the tightness of a good workout in my shoulders.

My standard 5-mile run done, and dripping with sweat, I slip back into the house and head for the kitchen to rehydrate. On my way along the main corridor, I turn to look at the pics along the left-hand wall, mostly made up my parents from dating to now: my mum Sarah always pretty as she ages in the pictures, my father Andrew always standing bolt upright and ruggedly handsome. But the thing that stands out to me is my father’s haircut, flattop from the first pic to the last even if the length varies. smiling or serious, the flat is in essentially every pic. I don’t know when he first got it, I’ve never tried to ask, but I can almost image he was born with a flattop.

On my return to my bedroom and ensuite, I strip and shower, enjoying the warm water. Stepping out of the shower I inspect myself in the mirror: Yes, in do look about 16, still a bit boyish but becoming more a man over time, with a fairly solid build on the verge of muscular. Though in would love a few inches on my shoulders and arms you can tell in enjoy my sports - rugby and swimming are my main ones. My face is clean shaven regularly but just starting to hint at the shadow of hair that would grow if I didn’t run a razor over it. Dark brown hair, slightly wavy and pretty typical in length for a high school student - tapered but not short and a little messy even though I was at a barber not much more than a week ago. Its regularly a little unruly, so I use wax to keep it fairly neat - not that it lasts for the whole day. However, I dream of having a shorter haircut - a flattop specifically.

I don’t know when my interest in haircuts started, but I think it’s always been on my mind - only growing stronger. I can remember going to the barber with dad as a youngish boy and being helped up into the chair. Father-son haircuts on a regular bi-weekly schedule.

But somewhere along the line that stopped, perhaps around 7 or 8. While my dad’s preference was for short and neat (especially of his own hair) my mom seemed to like me with more hair: ’he has such lovely hair, I don’t like it so short’ I recall her saying. I’m not sure if I really sided with mum or not, but certainly longer hair than I usually had was more typical for other boys my age - and so my mum took over, and slowly my hair lengthened. Dad didn’t really get a say at all in my haircut, since I went to a salon with mom for some time. He would just mention every now and then that my hair was getting a bit long. Then it was decided I could sort myself out, and I did decide to go back to a barber, but just a cheap chain. I would be given $20; with the expectation I would budget appropriately. They did an ok job on my hair, but certainly not many short cuts to be seen on the other guys there.

I do miss going with him, but not something I can really ask for anymore - that time has passed.

I envy the other boys on my rugby team with genuinely short hair. I envy even more those with military type cuts and the best of those is the flattop that my own father wears, religiously attending the barber every 2 weeks. As far as I know he's attended the same shop for well over 10 years. The overall length of his cut is a little longer and boxier than a few years ago, but it still looks very neat on him. After he returns from the barber, I sometimes have to stop myself from staring, and have quietly taken a few pics of it when he wasn’t paying attention.
There is a family resemblance between us, though he remains slightly taller and much more muscular. Our hair colour isn’t quite the same either, mine browner to his black, but both quite thick.

Time to stop daydreaming though - a final check in the mirror and I put that thought aside and pull on some clothes. My friends will not be awake yet, so no one to chat with and organise what we want to do yet, so I sit on the bed and play on my games on my phone.

After a few minutes, there is a solid knock on the door - I get a little bit of a fright from how loud the noise is.

‘Yeah?’ I say

The door swings open slowly and my dad steps into the room with a laptop in hand.

‘Hey buddy, you already gone for a run huh?

‘Yup - it’s already so hot out, I was soaked by the time I was done. But what’s up?

‘Can I sit?’ he says solemnly.

‘Yeah ok’ I reply wondering what exactly is happening ‘is something wrong or……?’

He sits of the very edge of the bed near my feet.

He tilts his head a little while maintaining eye contact

‘not wrong really, I just have something I want to discuss’

‘Yeah ok’ I honestly can think of nothing serious that I should be too worried about - I’m a usually good kid: my grades are fine, my manners are top of the class, I’m physically active, friendly and funny. I don’t’ skip school, I’ve never gotten drunk - I wouldn’t know where to get drugs from. The only thing I can think of is that maybe this is something to do with college?

‘I know you probably think that all people over 30 are useless at computers, but that’s not quite true’ he starts

‘I thought it was important that your mother and I kept a bit of an eye on your electronic use, so I have a programme that does track a few things’ he says

A tense feeling starts in my chest

‘now I’m realistic - I mean seeing that you are online at 2am when you’re meant to be asleep, that’s ok as long as it doesn’t happen much, and honestly it happens less than I thought it might’
‘and porn….well….also fine, within reason’ he blushes a little and breaks eye contact briefly ‘and nothing I’ve seen really worries me about what you’re looking up there. and some of the sex questions, well in a way I would rather you were comfortable bringing them up with me, but also kind of glad you didn’t.’ he says again breaking eye contact.

‘I don’t even check things out that much, I mean nothing to worry about so far really. But….looking over things this morning, there is some stuff I just don’t quite understand’ he says quietly.

With that he opens up the laptop and on screen is the history from last night â€" by clicking on links, pictures of flattops of various styles come up.

Loads of them. Probably hundreds. At least 100 anyway

A pit opens up in my stomach, I suddenly feel quite weak and a little nauseous.

Why did I use my laptop for that!?

I could have used my phone, but of course the pictures are bigger on the laptop â€" it made perfect sense at the time

I feel ashamed and do not even attempt to maintain eye contact - I just look at my feet.

Caught out. By my own dad.

‘So, Luke…..I know you weren’t expecting this talk’ he says gently ‘but I really should ask what this is about’

‘I don’t…I’ I say, then silence.

I really do not know what to say at all.

‘I mean it’s harmless right? In the scheme of things. I’m curious though. I can’t think of why is all’ he says.

‘I’m sorry dad’ I mumble.

‘why are you sorry?’

‘I don’t know. I just…. I don’t know. I feel like I should be sorry.’

‘you don’t have to be sorry. I just don’t quite understand. I mean there are a lot of pics here…a lot’ he trails off

I can’t say anything

‘Is it that you like the look? I mean I would be flattered’ he kinda laughs a little and tilts his head forward a bit. I can feel him looking at me, but I find it almost impossible to look up to meet his eyes

‘yeah, I guess that’s part of it’

‘well ok’

The room is completely silent, as likely neither of us knows what to say next. But I was wrong:

‘and the google search for "father-son" haircut?’

oh f***, I forgot about that one. I can’t even remember what I looked up anymore!

‘ahh…well…I mean…’

‘it’s ok, you don’t have explain if you cannot or don’t want to. But if you do want to tell me, it’s also fine. I mean that’s what I’m saying about all of this. You are pretty straight and narrow to be honest, and you don’t usually surprise me - you impress me! And you would never disappointment me"

‘I guess I miss our father-son haircuts a little’

‘that was quite awhile ago’ he says

‘yeah, I know’

‘I do remember enough to recall you didn’t like it so much at that stage’ he says

‘oh?’

‘sometimes you didn’t want to go through the door the barbers, and when we were there you squirmed a lot. I wouldn’t say you were happy anyway.

‘Oh……is that why you stopped taking me?’

‘Well, I suppose that was some of it - I didn’t want to make you upset, it’s not a big deal. But your mum preferred to take you to the salon too, and I was fine with that as long as you came out looking neat. You didn’t always actually, not at all, but not much point making a fuss about that. And once you were old enough to figure out what you want, then it’s your choice, no?"

"I guess so dad"

‘And your hair is neat enough these days. I can’t say it’s short, but I think it’s neat enough even when I’m joking with you’ he says.
‘yeah ok’

Again, there is a bit of a lull in the conversation.

‘So…. given the searches…..do you want a shorter haircut? was this just a search to see what was out there?’ he says

‘I guess so’ I say uncertainly

‘you’re undecided then’ he says while nodding.
I don’t really know what to say, but the anxiety is settling - embarrassing yes, but not terminally terrible.

‘don’t get me wrong, I think a flattop is a great haircut. clearly I do’ he says rubbing his bristles a bit.
‘but it’s not for everyone’

‘would you like me to have a shorter haircut?’ I say quietly

‘ha ha, that’s like asking me if I think you study harder or play better on the field - of course I’m going to say yes! But neither of those things are stuff I control, and I know you try plenty hard at school and sport. It’s your choice’

‘yes ok’

‘we can go to the barber together again you know, if you want - I am happy to go with you again’ he says.

‘yeah, that might be nice’

‘alright then’ he gets up to go but turns back around at the door.

He doesn’t say untying for a second, but then in curiosity asks: ’just…. why flattop?’

I’m sure I’m blushing but I try to maintain eye contact.

‘oh, it’s just, you know…. neat, squared away. masculine I guess’

‘it’s also what I have’

‘yeah, I had noticed dad" I say

‘so, the fact I host a flatty is nothing to do with it?’

‘um…. a little. or maybe more than I little’ I say again blushing.

‘you would look nice in a flattop if you wanted it’ he says

‘you think?’ I reply

‘yeah yeah, you would’ he says with certainty

‘would you like it?’ I enquire

‘it’s your hair buddy. but yes, I would be proud of you if you did give it a try’

‘maybe I should then’ I say, almost immediately regretting but also not regretting at all.

‘lots less hair for you to worry about washing’ he says with a grin. ‘quick and easy’

‘ha ha yeah’ I reply

‘no pressure though. we can go to the barber and you can decide on the day’

‘yeah true, but I might back out’ I say, wondering why I’m being so honest

‘perhaps. perhaps not’ he says as he heads to the door
‘um, thanks dad…for you know being nice about this’

‘well, no point getting upset. and you know I don’t get upset about much anyway’ he replies

‘I guess’ I say

‘well pull on some shoes, we can get to the barbers when it opens - maybe some deodorant too: no one should have to put up with your sweaty pits’

‘ah, what?’ I splutter

‘haircut time buddy - no time like the present’

‘I didn’t really mean today’ I say quickly

‘ok, sure, maybe later then’ he says as he shrugs his shoulders

‘um…ok, I guess we could’

he nods slowly, but I this with some contentment

‘shoes and deodorant then’ he says as he walks away

I pull back on my runners and go back to the bathroom to look at myself.

What have I done?

Maybe I won’t look like this anymore.
I turn my head left and right to get a full memory. thick brown hair, mildly wavey covers the head.
I try to imagine having a flattop, but I can’t really. I have no basis to imagine it really.

As I go down the stairs, I find dad at the door "about time

He pats me on the shoulder, and we go together to the garage.

I don’t even ask to drive the car like I usually would, I’m way too nervous.

‘We will go to Mr Faranelli’s you remember him? He will remember you, he cut you when you were a youngin’ and he does ask about you’ dad says pulling out of the driveway.

‘um sure’ I mumble

‘So, are you certain about the flattop?’ he asks

‘no’ I say

‘are you a bit scared?’ he asks

‘yeah’ I say. ‘I don’t know’

Dad shrugs - ‘it is just hair’

‘yeah, I know. grows back’ I say

‘what sort of flattop were you thinking?’

‘Type? Um, I don’t know….’ I say quickly, not really thinking about the question at all

‘all that research and not sure’ he says with a smile

‘well, I…. short I guess’

‘real short or just short?’ he asks

‘what’s the difference?’ I ask in return

‘well…. how easy it is the see the skin on your scalp’ he replies slowly.

‘um…. I don’t know.’ I speak

‘yours night be a little pale under that hair perhaps’ he says

quiet again fills the car, and I know we are over halfway there.

‘what do you think?’ I enquire.

‘not my hair Luke’ he says

‘no honestly Dad, what do you think?’
He seems to think for a moment, ’well…. you only get your first flattop once, so why not very short?’ then shrugs.

‘I guess’ I say, getting mildly aroused at the thought. ‘I don’t even know how to ask for one’

‘Oh, that’s easy: I want a flattop please….and it will happen’ he says with a chuckle.

‘hmm, I don’t know, he’ll have other questions’

‘and you can answer them’ he says ‘or I can’

my ears prick

‘you could pick my cut?’

‘like in the bad old days ……now that’s dangerous’ he says

‘they weren’t bad’ I say

‘alright, though that’s not what I remember about back then.…..but be honest with me, you want to get a flattop, don’t you?’ he says

‘yes sir’

‘then you will’ he says with conviction

‘I’m still worried’ I say

‘which is ok son - I’ll be there’ he replies

‘I guess’ I say, looking out the window - it’s only then I notice we have essentially arrived - the drive as not been as long as I thought it would.

Almost immediately I get mild palpitations.

Dad gets ready to get out of the car, I can see the shop only 30 meters away.

‘How about this: We can turn back now, just go back home, if that’s really what you want - and I won’t bring it up again unless you do. But if we go inside it’s a done deal: you’re getting a flattop. No stress, no tears, you just are getting it done - ok Luke?" he says looking at me

‘um ok’ I say but slowly

‘So as soon as you walk through the door of the barbershop, you’re committed’

‘ok’ I say

‘you will get a flattop’ he says

‘yeah’ I say less certainly

‘you’ll even get a flattop of my prescription’’ he says looking directly at me.

‘um…. I…’ surprised

‘I read some of the links you had clicked. dads picking haircuts for their sons was a component, no?

Now I know I’m blushing.

‘I can do that"

‘um well…..kinda. well ok, yes dad that’s what I want’ I say

If anything, being able to admit that, to agree, makes me more relaxed.

‘so, like I said…. you walk through the doors, it’ a done deal. a short, actually a very short flattop is on the cards’ he says with a nod and a grin.

‘yeah…ok’ I say

‘you’re giving your word Luke’ dad says fairly emphatically.

I gulp

‘yes, I understand’ I say

‘and so, we are getting out the car, and going through the door?’ he says ‘let’s go.

dad gets out first, and I follow a little more slowly. Dad comes around walk next to me as we get closer to the shop, and dad places a hand on my upper back, then reaches up and gives my hair a rub.

closer and closer,

my breathing getting shallow and fast

my vision getting more narrow

I can see inside now

an old-fashioned shop the barber at the register, red leather seats, large mirror on one side and bench seating on the other.

the sign says open

I reach out with my hand and touch the door

it swings inwards and I step though the interface into the shop, excited but scared

PART 2

The first step might be the hardest, but I’m a bundle of nerves.

Dad gently pushes on my back to encourage me further into the shop.

it’s done.

I gave my word

‘Good morning gents’ the barber say brightly

‘One of you I know very well, and the other…. well, you were much smaller last time we met’

‘Luke’ I say holding out my hand, which I’ve been taught to do, and which he shakes firmly.

Mr Farenilli looks very similar to before, a dark buzzcut on a solid frame with large hairy forearms.

‘yes, I do remember, not because I’m good with names but because your dad is very proud of you: he's quite boastful really. I swear he tells me more about what you’re up to than what he is doing!

dad looks a little nonplussed

Dad says ‘my life is boring - I work, that’s it. Luke seems to have much more interesting stuff going on’

‘well, I’ll talk your word Andrew. But Luke…. well, you do look different now - a tall young man rather than a little boy, but you still have a thick thatch of hair. That’s a family trait there’

I smile a little, since it seems polite.

‘So, Andrew…… hop up in the chair’ the barber says with a hand directed towards the one closest by.

‘Well……. actually, it’s Luke’s turn today’ dad say taking a seat on the long bench.

‘Unexpected but still excellent’ the barber says, "well then Luke - hop up in the chair"

I walk over and take a seat carefully.

Some tissue goes around my neck before the large cape is secured, much tighter than at my normal barber.

I can see myself clearly in the mirror. brown hair, pale skin above the black cape.

‘well,’ the barber says combing my hair out ‘how are you getting the haircut done young man?’

I gulp but don’t say anything at first, I get ready to utter the words ‘flattop’ but before I can dad starts up

‘Luke wants a change, that’s why we are here Silvio. he’s decided a flattop would do nicely’ dad says

‘another surprise then - big big change, excellent’ the barber says, ‘well you’ve come to the right place’.

‘what sort of flattop? he says continuing to brush my hair out

‘short’

‘similar to yours Andrew’

‘maybe a bit shorter’ dad replies

ouch!!

I can see my panicked expression in the mirror

‘oh, I can do shorter, no issues there’ the barber says, continuing with ’big change. big change’

‘I know’ dad say’ but change is good, and Luke is game

dad winks at me

‘well good lad’ the barber says pushing my head back and forth

‘you don’t want to specify any length?’ the barber continues

‘oh, whatever you think will work Silvio, we trust you’ dad says

‘sure sure. well maybe I could ask a favour? I have a few pics of your own flattop on the Instagram page, but I would love some of your son too? would that be ok? maybe some before and after?’

‘actually that sounds perfect’ dad says ‘I’d actually like a few pics of it’

another gulp. now my shearing going to happen on camera.

the barber takes a proper camera out of a draw

‘chin up lad. and try to look happier please.

he takes about 20 pictures in various positions as I force a smile.

‘good work’

With that the chair spins and instead of the mirror I’m facing into the shop on a bit of an angle, my dad along the wall on my right field of vision.

a hand is on top of my head and it’s directed down so my chin is almost on the cape

‘relax that neck Luke’ the barber says.

the hand lets go briefly and a loud buzz commences like a drill.

‘Osters. best money can buy’ the barber says lovingly

The hand goes back on the crown and is pushed down even harder

The buzz gets closer and closer, and finally makes contact at the nape of my neck.

It doesn't wait there long but slides firmly up and up and up, past the occipital bone all the way to the crown.

a second later I can feel the temperature change.

my heart is being 150 times per minute, yet I cannot yet see anything that is happening.

my dad stands up and clearly has his phone out, taking a pic or many it’s hard to tell.

‘first strike: an overview and a close up’ he says

the barber turns my head a tiny bit so I can see a bit more of the camera, but my chin is still in my chest.

‘onwards’ the barber says, and the clippers at back at the nape sliding up again.

It almost feels like they’ve gone higher but it’s hard to say.

The sound is very loud, a BUZZZZ as they’re between passes turning more to a BIUZZZ as they touch my head. I enjoy the sound even as it frightens me.

My head is released and goes back to a neutral position. the chair spins little and now I can see myself caped in the chair, but I cannot yet see any damage, it being all at the back.

the barber moves to my left and grips my head firmly to tilt it away from him

the clippers come closer as the buzzing get louder. I watch intently

Contact is made just below the ear and the clippers slide up. and up. and up.

and now I see some hair fall on to cape in a clump. a large clump even.

I don’t now whether to look at myself in the mirror or look at the clump, but I can barely take my eyes of the Osters which are still going up the side of my head.

finally, at the crown the move away from the scalp, and go to make the next pass behind my ear
I now have a chance to see the length left behind

it’ short for sure, you can see skin, but it’s not stubble - there are bristles there

is it a number 1? I don’t know

I am distracted by more hair accumulating on the cape and then dad taking another picture.

‘quite a change’ the barber says ‘what brought this about’

‘um yeah, well I felt like a change I guess’ I say
‘I always thought you would try a flattop at some stage, but I was betting once you were settled in your 20s or 30s’ the barber says working away, busily pushing the clippers around my head.

‘um ok thanks’

the chair is twisted again and now it’s the other sides turn

loud buzzing and clumps of hair

my excitement is starting to build while my anxiety is resolving.

the barber seems to now be buzzing around the whole sides and back, I guess aiming to make sure it’s all the same length. I can see a small dusting of hair fall on the cape sometimes but nothing major.

finally, the clippers are switched off.

‘stage 1 done, but what a stage huh?’ the barber says

he spins me around, so I’m centred on the mirror

with his hand he twists my head a little so I can see the damage done.
it’s certainly bristly scalp but he has left some hair.

I don’t know whether to be pleased or not, it’s definitely a change.

‘I’m going to have to get rid of a bit of the bulk before blow-drying it in place to do the flattop’ the barber says

with that he brushes my hair forward and grabs a set of scissors

standing directly behind he grabs my hair at the front, the fringe and clamps it between his fingers
the scissors then go along his fingers

and with that 75% of my fringe is gone.

over and over, he reduces the hair down to a more manageable length.

snip. snip. snip.

Slowly my appearance changes as the bulk is removed

He sprays the top a little with water, then brushes the hair back, he then grabs a hair drier and starts to blow it straight up in the hair with a brush.

it mostly works but doesn’t stay perfect straight up in the air.

‘I have so many men that would kill for this thick hair. not just for flattops!. but it certainly will work well’

he grabs a small tin, opening it up he shows me inside. "this is Avalon crew wax. have a sniff." he says

I do, it’s a gentle masculine smell and one I know well from my dad.

‘if you’re keeping a flattop this is the only way to go. good hold comes out easy. dry look. of course, if you want a wet look, we can do that too?’

‘um dry is fine’ I say quietly

‘your dad never does, says it makes him feel like a greaser’

‘I heard that’

‘you can have a tub on the house how’s that? can’t have you looking messy with competitors’ products’

with that he gets a serious finger worth and spreads it throughout

he blow dries again, and this time it’s like the hair has been beaten into compliance: straight up, thick brown hair

‘ok - onto stage 2: the actual flattop bit ha ha’ he the barber says

again, the chair is twisted, and I’m not sure whether I am happy I cannot see the damage being done, or sad I’m missing out.

I feel the comb being lined up at the front and the sound of clippers going over, but it’s not until the 3rd pass or so that I can see the hair come off and land on the cape

Considering how much hair was taken with the scissors, there is still a load of hair coming off

I can feel the comb and clippers, and the barber solidly directing my head to the right spot

‘you’ve come to the right place for this, not many barbers do as many flattops as me’ the barber says

the chair is spun again, and I get my first look at the flat-topped me
the top is straight across and shorter than I expected

it’s little boxy

I’m about to twist my head the barber says ‘hang on. no moving yet. this is the bit you need to stay perfectly still for Luke’

I comply and the clippers come up and he freehand the top

I can't even see any hair being cut, but I can feel it as the clippers gently pass over the bristles of hair up top that something is happening.

I can see dad paying close attention too. I look of quiet pleasure on this face.

‘ok then’ the barber says

with that the lather machine is turned on and a towel is put on my neck.

‘just will clear up the hairline now Luke’ he says ‘almost over young man’
warm lather is applied to my nape and around the ears

the head is pushed forward again, and I feel a straight razor scraping away around my hairline.

scrape. wipe. scrape. wipe. scrape. wipe.

over and over.

I quick wipe to the neck with a towel and the barber grabs the wax again.

this time his puts a small amount on the comb itself and brushes my hair lightly

the feeling is hypnotic and totally new

he then uses a proper brush to shape the hair and ensure it’s perfectly flat - I watch intently in the mirror.

he’s certainly a perfectionist - every time I think he’s done, he does something else.

the brush goes down and he picks up the camera

‘aright - so straight-ahead young Luke’

he takes a dozen pics of the hair across many angles, his spare hand directing my head where he wants it to be.

the camera goes down and a mirror is grabbed from under the counter

‘tada Luke - a vital improvement I have to say’ the barber says proudly

the mirror is finally elevated so I can see the back, and its pale skin and bristles to the crown

the barber gain turns my head side to side with his spare hand

‘and the highlight…’the barber says before pushing my head forward a little

now I can see a different angle of the top and how the hair in the centre of the scalp is shorter than the that of the rim.

‘it’s called a landingstrip, like what an airport has." the barber says.

‘oh wow’ I say, since I can’t think of anything else

‘what do you think?’ the barber asks

‘I…. it’s really different but I like it’ I say honestly

with that the cape is removed and the chair spun so I again face my father.

‘very nice Luke’ dad says with a smile on his face

‘honestly I think it’s great, I hope you do too’’ dad says

‘yeah, I do’ I reply

with that I stand up and go closer to the mirror while standing

I hesitantly reach up and touch the top at the front

firm bristles are under my fingers as I run my hand slowly back, while watching in the mirror
I am paying such close attention to doing that that I only notice that my dad has been filming me doing it once it’s over.

‘back now Luke’ is all he says

I turn my head a little and have my first touch of the back. again, gentle bristles but obviously much shorter. I can feel the shaved hairline at my nape.

I see dad filming this as well.

‘how short is this?’

‘ostered down to a X, the top…well that about 3/4 of an inch. has to be a little shorter than your dads as your hair is a little wavier. but it suits you anyway’

dad comes closer and reaches up I feel his hand wrap around the back of my head, fingers

toughing both bristles and skin. he tilts my head forward a little and does the same with his own head. both our landing strips are on display, though mine is more evident.

I hear a click and the barber has taken another round of photos

‘alright now one from the front too!’ he says

and we turn to face him and while I smile lightly, my dad is clearly beaming.

After that dad rubs the back and then the top again. I enjoy the feeling. really enjoy it.

‘awesome Luke. real proud of you.’ he says

‘I have your email Andrew; I’ll send you the pics I’ve taken’ the barber says

‘that would be nice’ dad says

‘my pleasure’ the barber says as I turn back to the mirror to look again.

the flattop haircut sits perfectly on my head. the family resemblance is now undeniable

‘so how much do I owe you’ dad says

‘$25 as usual’ the barber says

‘$25 for the cut, you deserve a tip though’ dad says

‘you are not paying me one cent more for doing my job. you just make sure that lad comes back to me when he needs a redo. 2 weeks, you hearing me Luke?’

‘yessir" I say reflectively

my dad hands over $25 in cash, which goes straight in the register

‘well, you men have a pleasant day. I won’t get to do such a fun cut this month I’m sure, so I do thank you for that’ the barber says sitting on back on his stool at the door

‘not that there is any other business yet!’ he continues ‘I will keep doing my crossword’
I walk towards my dad at the door and we step out into the light, his hand again on the back of my head.



PART III

I can’t’ believe I have a flattop - the cut I have been dreaming off has finally happened

Every step I take, I can feel the difference

I feel more mature and manly

I feel better than I ever have before

And my head feels colder despite the it being summer and pretty hot outside.

‘one warning, you will need to wear sunscreen if you’re not wearing a hat. Sunburn on your head is no fun, take it from me’ dad says

‘um yeah ok’ I say

‘I'm not joking’ dad says solemnly

as we walk towards the car, I have a thought: ‘so you didn’t want a cut dad? ‘I say

‘it’s only been a week’ he replies shaking his head ‘it’s probably not quite time yet.’

‘next time’ he continues ‘you have done the hard part going back is going to be a breeze’

‘ha ha yeah, it’s good’ I say

‘and it’s what you wanted? dad says

‘yeah. pretty much’ I say

‘what’s that mean’ he asks?

‘I don’t know, I guess it’s just pretty much what I wanted’

‘you would have liked to have kept a bit more hair?’

‘oh…no…not that. maybe in fact shorter even. But no, it’s just new. it’s fine’ I say shaking my head with a laugh

‘you wanted shorter?’ dad says suddenly stops walking

‘oh…no…its great how its is’ I touch the back again

‘if you want it shorter, now is the time to head back’ he says

‘I don’t know really. maybe next time?’ I say

there is silence

‘what do you think?’ I ask

dad seems to stare off into the distance, thinking for a few seconds

‘well…. let’s go back’ he says with a nod

my heart rate picks up

dad doesn’t even wait for my response, but starts to walk back

so, I follow, what else am I to do?

I catch up to him and he puts an arm around my shoulders

again, we stop at the interface of the shop, and I step through the door.

the barber is there at the counter on his phone when I step through, followed shortly by my father.

‘uh I told you to bring him back in 2 weeks? has it really been that quiet here in the shop?
dad slips his arm from my shoulder and again puts his hands on my shoulders

‘Luke is very happy with the haircut - but he’s wondering if it could be a little shorter?’

‘is that right lad?’ the barber enquires

‘….um yeah’

‘it’s plenty short now’ he says slowly

‘yes, I know’ I reply

‘sure, well then, take a seat. again.’ he says, hand pointing towards the chair.

I take a seat, and looking at myself in the mirror with my new haircut

‘so, what were you thinking then?’ he asks

I’m silent and thinking

but dad pipes up ‘a proper military flattop.’ a smile across his face

I gulp. but say nothing

what have I gotten myself into??

‘well ok young man. I'm surprised yet impressed.’

the cape is thrown over the top of me and secured tightly

the chair is raised in height

"ok just going to take the side and back off, ok?" the barber says

"um…yeah" I murmur

my head is again pushed down into my chest with a firm hand

There is suddenly a buzzing, higher pitched than before, more like a whirr

The sound gets closer to my head and the touches at the nape of my neck and slowly moves up the back

A few more passes and my head is released

I look in the mirror but cannot see anything different yet

A hand grips my forehead and tilts my head slightly, but I can still see a bit under the hand

the clippers get even louder close to my left ear and touch just in front, and start their movement upwards

this time I can see the hair being sheared off and falling onto the cape. it does not look like much hair is being left behind, but I cannot clearly see - just the constant waterfall of fragments of hair falling onto the cape and then sliding down to my lap

A few more passes up the side of my head and around my ear, and my head is released so the barber can move around to the right.

His hands again grip my forehead, and my head gets twisted slightly and now I have a better view of what’s been done to the left: it’s been buzzed down to the skin, with just stubble left behind. I grip the hand reset of the chair even harder and swallow - this is really happening. my eyes flick to my father sitting on the bench by the wall: he’s paying close attention to what is happening.

the burring clippers again move closed to my ear and then make contact, sliding slowly ever upwards towards the crown. more hair trickles down as the clippers do their work around on the right.

finally, the clippers are switched off, and the barber dusts off the hair.

the barber bushes the top a few times and then the clippers are switched back on - it looks like the top is going shorter too.

he lines up a comb and clippers small fragments off. it’s hard to judge how much, but I stay perfectly still.

pass after pass, this continues for about 5 minutes, the clippers slipping closer to my scalp in small steps.

"and to take the landing strip down a bit, just don’t move ok" the barber murmurs

I feel the clippers buzzing away in the centre of my head, almost making contact with the scalp but not quite.

The clippers go quiet as the barber looks all over, moving my head this way and that. They start up again briefly as he shears some stray hairs down but eventually are put back in the hold on the bench.

I get ready to be able to get up when suddenly my head I again pushed forwards into my chest.

"now for the razor boy-o" and with that the barber switches on another little machine which he quickly starts rubbing into the back of my exposed head

Up and down, up and down the buzzing continues

‘you’re using a razor….?’

‘yes, a little electric one’ the barber says, and he releases my head momentarily and hold it out so I can see - it’s a little maroon and gold shaver, like what you would use to shave your face

Two seconds later he starts up again, gripping my head and rubbing away with the buzzing machine

"perfectly smooth" the barber says as he rubs a thumb up the nape of my neck towards the crown

the barber continues towards the left and my head is release enough that I can watch him working away, balding the side of my head. I watch intently, amazed that this is happening at all.

And then on to the right, where the process is repeated, the razor rubbed against my scalp all the way to the crown.

As the machine is switched off the barber grabs a towel and rubs down my head.

My dad stands up and moves closer, he takes a few pictures with his phone "smile son"

my smile I’m sure is crooked, but I try at least as he takes a few pictures.

putting the phone away he reaches to rub the back of my head, and I almost purr with pleasure.

"that is one sleek haircut!" he says

as dad steps back, the barber slips the cape off, and shakes the hair from the cape to the ground

my heads reach up hesitantly to touch my head: just smooth skin in front of my ear, and it goes around the back. I’ve never felt something like this before, it feels amazing.

I stand up and turn my head to the left and the right. I feel so masculine compared to earlier, and as afraid as I was of doing this, I’m happy I made the decision.

"on the house" the barber says with a brief smile

"but you have to come back in 2 weeks’ time, ok"

"yes sir" I say quietly, still distracted by my haircut.

"I’m very proud of you. but come on son, we should head off’ dad says

we both walk toward the door and out into the heat of the day.

---