The Scarlet Falls Barbershop: Carter by Faded Dusk

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Minnesota autumn with winter fast approaching was not an ideal time for the heater to go on the fritz. As adorable as it was when Zane broke out the fuzzy sweaters and curled up under a blanket on the couch, leaving it messed up was not good for business. And so in the interest of networking (and also getting a response with any actual speed), I decided to reach out to a local company that seemed very small, but very highly rated. A few days later, and here I was, sipping coffee, and trying very hard not to stare at this handyman’s…ahem, package. Mind you trying to look in his direction at all without staring was a veritable minefield, muscular arms barely contained within a tight sleeveless shirt, a very tempting cake, and piercing blue eyes. Of course the feature I tried hardest not to think about was the neat bun of hair tucked up and secure. The part I could gaze at was a gorgeous chestnut brown, and from the size of that bun, there had to be a whole lot more length that I wasn’t seeing. I also couldn’t help but notice how the occasional bead of sweat lodged itself in there, surely not the most comfortable of feelings. Perhaps I could persuade him…no, no, I mentally slapped myself. There’s a time and a place, and there’s no use fantasizing over this. Besides, even if I talked him into the chair, he’d probably just ask for a trim. A shame when I could really use a new carpet or two.

"Alright Mister Lund," Carter’s voice snapped me out of whatever daydreaming haze remained, "you should be all set for the winter now. But you just give us a call if you encounter any other trouble." With that he began gathering his moderately scattered tools in preparation to leave. Welp, it was now or never.

"Say, before you go, would you…like a drink?" I managed. A grin spread across his face.

"Sure! Getting up close and personal with a heater creates a whole bunch of sweat."

As I poured him a glass, I tried to be subtle about my intentions, "I imagine it’s even worse with long hair like that, the sweat building up into a soggy mess…"

He accepted the glass and took a long drink, before finally saying, "you know you can just ask the question I know you’re dying to. Aka, why is my hair so long and can you take a crack at it?" Mission failure. I must’ve been about as subtle as a brick through glass for him to pick up this quickly.

I felt my face go a bit red, "uh, yeah, you caught me. I didn’t want to creep you out by bringing it up, but…"

"The barber's instincts can’t help themselves?" he finished. I nodded, blushing even more. "Well, funnily enough, I was kind of hoping you would be the one to broach the topic, since I wasn’t sure how to ask without sounding pathetic. See I’ve been a bit…strapped for cash for a while now. This whole business," he gestured vaguely to his toolbox, "only really got rolling a month ago, so for over a year now, a haircut wasn’t in the budget."

I nodded solemnly. "Tell you what, I’ll pay the full cost for your services plus a nice 18% tip, and in exchange, you let me give you a haircut of my choosing."

He laughed, "I mean, I’ll take that deal, but I’m not really sure what you get out of this deal? After all, you’re paying me and giving away a haircut for free. So, what’s your upside?"

I smiled back, "I believe a saying exists that a picture is worth a thousand words, and the same could perhaps be said for an experience. An experience like, say, relieving you of your luxurious mane."

His grin widened, "You’re doing me a favor, but if you’re really okay with this…"

"I am," I quickly affirmed, "now, if you wouldn’t mind, Carter, I’d like to get a full idea of what I’m working with. And we’ll probably need to wash it too, so if you’d just come sit over here…"

I actually have a shampoo station nestled in the back of my shop, almost entirely hidden by the register area if one were to just walk in the door. I wasn’t intentionally trying to keep it out of view or anything, but I readily admit that its use is…infrequent. Most of the cuts I do at most require some spritzing with the spray bottle, and seeing as I’m the only worker, I can’t exactly afford to take my time shampooing each client when there’s a line waiting. More recently, Zane would occasionally pop in and he would eagerly take up the task in my place, though admittedly he would sometimes just hang out, sit on the counter, and admire my handiwork. Not that I minded all that much given his adorable brown eyes, but in conjunction with having his own job, I obviously couldn’t count on him consistently. As such, the most use I’d gotten out of the station was actually after hours, as we’d discovered that the warm water and gentle touch were quite effective at lulling Zane before I shaped him up every couple weeks.

Returning to my present, as he walked, Carter removed the pins holding his hair in place, and the sight of his mane unfurled almost caused me to stop dead in my tracks. Somehow I had pictured a shoulder length mop, but the shining chestnut hair cascaded past his shoulder blades, down to the middle of his back, and with the slightest wave throughout. I’d only ever gotten to cut a flow like this once before, all the way back in college, and now here it was again, and even better, I had free license to do as I pleased with it all. He ran his hands through the waves, fluffing out the stiffness of the bun, and then shook his head to spread the hairs even further. And then he just sat down at the shampoo station, waiting patiently. Talk about a gift-wrapped package.

We didn’t need to exchange a word while I washed his hair, he just closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling, and I reveled in plying my hands through such lengthy strands. By the time I sat him up and walked him over to the chair, the towel drying had left his hair fluffier than ever, and it shone like a chocolate waterfall, somehow even seeming to catch the light and sparkle. It almost gave me pause, was it really my place to deprive the world of such beauty? But then Carter turned to me, surely confused by my hesitation, and in his face I had my answer. The sacrifice of his gorgeous hair would be worth it to unleash the handsome visage buried beneath. At last I caped him up, carefully lifting the cascade out of the way so as not to pinch it, and then letting it tumble naturally back down, draping onto the back of the barber chair. After snapping a few before pictures, making sure to get a shot of the draped hair and one of his smiling face, locks framing it and curling onto his shoulders, I gave him a final brush through, and then picked up my scissors.

"Last chance to back out Carter, I won’t blame you if you get cold feet…"

He met my eyes in the mirror and the largest grin yet spread across his face, "go wild!"

I needed no further encouragement. I spun the chair away from the mirror, lifted a six inch chunk, and sliced it right off, dropping it in his lap. So I continued for a while, snipping away inconsistent chunks and pieces, letting it all fall into his field of view, even tickling him on the nose with a little hank. The cape was practically invisible, and I had barely begun.

For the next stage, I pumped the chair higher, such that I barely had to bend down to be on the perfect eye level to cut in a straight line. Snip, snip, snip, all the way around his head I went, sheaves of hair tumbling away with each close of the scissors. I took a brief pause to comb it into a middle part, and let him get his first view thus far, with a cut not far off from a pageboy’s helmet. While he was still looking, I slipped the shears into his fringe and hacked the bangs right off, eight inches of silky chestnut hair sliding straight into his lap, and leaving him looking uncannily like Lord Farquaad. Well, only in his haircut, the face was obviously much more handsome.

I turned him away from the mirror once more, and swapped out my scissors for the clippers with the #1 guard attached. I parted off his hair into a classic horseshoe part, and then the buzzing began. I had to lift the huge curtains of hair out of the way to allow my clippers access, but once they reached his scalp, ten inch long locks began to peel off with nary a squeal of resistance. As the first strands hit the floor, and the cool air brushed onto Carter’s scalp for the first time in years, he let out a sigh of relief and liberation, which luckily masked my much less majestic sound that I tried to suppress in my throat. Pass after pass of the clippers, and I couldn’t even see my feet anymore. Carter’s shoulders, lap, feet, armrests, it was all coated in the remnants of his mane. The clippers tore through the left sideburn, and as the sheaves slid away, I was barely holding it together. Not since I had first met Zane had there been a haircut this exhilarating. I so wished he could’ve been there to witness it, or perhaps even aid me in the severance of Carter’s crown.

I let the top layers fall free, tumbling all around until one might almost think Carter still had his enormous mop, but I cleared away that confusion nice and quickly, with another straight line series of snips, and soon Carter found himself staring face to face with a humiliatingly short bowl cut. Before he could even process the sight however, I was already driving the clippers from the crown forward. The last remnants of Carter’s glorious locks tumbled past his eyes, joining their lifeless brethren below, and moments later, we were both left gazing at his fresh #1 butch. The camera returned, and I snapped picture after picture, his razor sharp jawline accentuated by the complete lack of hair, the immense tide that covered every visible angle, the tangled pile accumulated on the floor, and finally, I swept off the cape and stepped back for a wide shot. A young man, handsome as the gods and angels, seated in a barber chair calmly, mounds and mounds of hair formerly on his head piled in every direction around him. The pale skin that had not seen the light of day in so long practically glowed in the setting sun.

Carter silently took in his new look, feeling it from every which way, admiring it in the mirror, and minutes later all he managed was, "Holy s**t that was hot." He finished gathering his tools as I gathered up all the shorn hair into one big pile, that he gave one last sentimental look to before I allowed the vacuum to suck it all away.

As I saw him off, he suddenly turned back. "You know, my roommate that I run this mini-company with, Ollie, he’s been in a similar situation to me, tight on finances, haircut wasn’t in the budget, all that. Do you think…?"

"Well, I have noticed my air conditioning seems to be acting up. Perhaps I’ll need to call someone to come take a look at it. And who knows, maybe they’ll need to bring some backup." Even if I couldn’t see my face, I could feel that I was matching Carter’s smirk perfectly.

"Maybe. Maybe…" he chuckled. For caution’s sake, we exchanged personal phone numbers, and he was on his way, still rubbing his fresh buzz. I sat back in the barber chair, swiping through the gallery I’d created of the afternoon’s events. When the door’s bell signaled Zane’s arrival, I practically bounced out of my seat. Not only did I have a wonderful day to recount for him, but I also had the prospect of a similarly glorious day on the horizon, and this time we could be prepared to welcome it, together…

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