Modern Mullet to Mature Man by Armando94

---

Theodore James "Bryce" Halperin IV was beyond privileged and had never been challenged until teenagerhood. His parents had divorced when he was very young, and he’d been made to live with his father. Growing up in a huge home, with no siblings or even neighbors around to play with, he had the run of the mill. Bryce called the shots, he made the final decisions, and everything always went his way. This carried out to when he started school, and all the other boys flocked to his inherent and obvious self-belief as a leader. His father should have done well to look after him, but he felt his first wife had done him the greatest favor in producing his heir for the family legacy, and now he could carry on with his own affairs. Quite literally, the many marriages and engagements he had with women that followed the divorce. Bryce hardly ever, if ever, saw his mother, and so growing up without a true mother figure in his immediate household was difficult. The women who floated in out of his life he was either nasty and resentful too, or they were aloof yet spiteful to him. But it didn’t matter, because none of them lasted long anyways. And forget a father figure, that was just as absent.

His behavior was always out of hand the older he got in school. Constantly called to the principal’s office, and by the time he was entering sophomore year of fancy preppy high school, he already had two suspensions under his belt. But the third strike went for the real deal: expulsion. His father had never reprimanded him, but it was better late than never. Theodore James "Mick" Halperin III got on a colleague’s private jet at once to report to his son’s school and speak with the principal. His father remained silent throughout the whole meeting, silently fuming.

Bryce wasn’t prepared for the freak out Mick had in the car ride home. He was screaming so loud and fiercely, spit was not only visible on his lip but splattering all across the front dashboard. "Are you happy now? Are you PROUD of yourself? Proud of what you’ve done to your name, our name? Do you feel good about how you’ve made your peers feel?! Well forget that they are your peers, they are not. You are done, done mister. Finished. No one wants you here, and that starts with me." For the first time, Bryce felt like genuinely crying.

The rest of the night was just as awful, if not worse, his father screaming, "What have I done to deserve this?! To deserve YOU? You disgrace me, with your attitude and behavior. Sure, I’ve given you everything and more you could ask for in life, and I had similar privilege. But I never took advantage of it!! You, young man, always have.

"Look at this house! I mean its an absolute mess, no wonder I have to constantly hire so much help. With all your parties and friends on the weekends. And your room alone, its horrifying. You have truly outdone yourself, truly. It reeks of pot, there are clothes and old food trailed all over the place," then Mick grabbed his son from the back of his chocolate brown hair, "and you even have the same sh*t haircut all the other idiots your generation have. How much of your inheritance have you wasted on perms? PERMS?! Tell me now, boy."

"Your hurting me!" Bryce tried to fight, and his father did relent. Bryce helplessly pawed at the back of his head, the modern mullet he sported like all the other guys, a bit of taper around the ears. And yes, he’d had a perm or three before, especially when everyone else was doing it. And he had the money to do so, so why not?

"You leave me no choice," his father mumbled, and stormed out of the room, not speaking to him for the rest of the night.

Bryce carried on on his own. He wasn’t going back to school, so he stayed home that Friday, lounging around in his boxers, stealing junk food from the pantry, feeling like he was the king of castle once again. But that wasn’t the case. Saturday morning, he was woken by his father saying, "Get up, we’re leaving. Pack your stuff. You have an hour."

Bryce made it downstairs with fifteen minutes to spare, looking for breakfast made. But there wasn’t any staff around. His father seized the opportunity to get them moving. "Grab your stuff, let’s go." And on they went, a car already waiting outside for them. Mick sat in the passenger seat while Bryce was relegated to the back of the silent car ride.

They had only been driving for fifteen minutes when the driver pulled into a rest stop and parked. "Dad, what’s going on?"

Finally, Mick turned around to face his son, a face so stone cold it was the envy to any gargoyle. "You have left me no choice. I cannot keep you in this town, let alone my own home."

"Can’t I just attend a different school?" Bryce whined.

"You’ll be going to your mother’s. Yes, your real mother’s, someone you haven’t seen in years. Perhaps it really was my fault, keeping you to myself, when I should have let you see her more often. Maybe then you might have straightened out. I gave you too much privilege, time you learned how to be a decent person."

Bryce felt a strange sensation come over him. His mother, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw or hear from her, perhaps three years ago was the last time they were face to face? He knew virtually nothing about her. He did know she had remarried in the last few years, but he never met the man.

A bus pulled up. Mick nodded at it and uttered, "Take care now," turning away from his son. The driver stepped out and opened Bryc’es side, saying, "Come on now," to him, and shuffled him along, getting his bags from the open trunk. As they approached the bus, the driver handed him his ticket, and told him what stop to get off on. It would be a long bus ride, supposedly.

He did snooze on the ride, and still after a couple hours, they hadn’t reached their destination. Finally, they pulled up to what looked like a rundown gas station and the driver kindly called out to Bryce. The bus driver helped Bryce retrieve his belongings from out under the bus and wished him well. Bryce thanked him, realizing he was probably going to need it.

His mother showed up five minutes later. She had an old car that should have traded in a while back, yet it still seemed to run fine as it whipped into the lot. She parked the car, retrieved her purse from the passenger seat and stepped outside. She came around the bend and was sporting a simple dress with a heavy cardigan. Her hair was pulled back, the same hair color as Bryce. She was a bit homely, but also elegant in her own way. "Hello Bryce," she coolly said.

"Hi," he offered up.

They both waited a beat before she broke the silence, "Well, looks like you got yourself some lunch, did you want anything else? I was going to treat, but we have some things back at the farm." He didn’t say anything back, so she just nodded her head and said, "Come on," and held her hands out to take his bags. Sitting in the car, she patted his shoulder. Most mothers might have gone for a hug, but it seemed his mother, Clara, that was her name, it dawned on him, was easing him in. "We are both so glad to have you home."

The we must have been in reference to her and his stepfather. And she said something about a farm? "What do you mean by farm?"

Clara slightly smirked out of the right corner of her mouth. "Jim, your stepfather, inherited a farm from his parents. We still take care of it."

A farm? Bryce truly was in a whole new world now. "So do you…work on the farm?"

His mother shrugged before admitting, "Yes and no. I do help out when I can, but we have some help too. I’m still teaching so that’s my main focus during the weekdays. Works out I can help out in the summer for all those crops. But we also have a small staff of folks who work full time, as we host a number of animals too."

Bryce nodded his head, "And so does he work the farm full time?"

Clara paused before she corrected her son, "Jim, your stepfather, does work on the farm. But he grew up in this town and inherited a few other businesses, since he was an only child like yourself. And is a bit of a renaissance man with all his jobs. We own a bar on the main drag of downtown that we inherited from his parents. That has started to gain traction in the last year. Jim sits on the city council and has ever since he was in his mid-twenties, actually. He’s also a pastor locally, and so we are involved in the parish because of that. And he owns a barbershop, inherited that from an uncle. He works there Wednesday through Saturday."

As they pulled up to the farm, Bryce was taken back by how beautiful it seemed. He spotted several little barns and shacks along the drive until they pulled up to a decent sized house that looked like it had been built over a century ago. Clara pulled into park and took a deep breath, removing her sunglasses so she could look at her son. Calmly, and measuredly, she began, "Son, seems you have made a mess of things, and I would like to think your father is trying to atone for it by sending you away. But that doesn’t really solve the problem, and if you are really my son, your smart enough to realize that, right?" He nodded his head, biting back on his tongue. "What’s gonna solve it is if you put mind over matter. Recognize what you did wrong, and move forward, move on actually. Start anew. I should have fought for you harder, but your father was so blinded by ‘legacy’ and all that bull that made me want to leave him in the first place. I foolishly thought he’d take care of his heir, but I was sorely wrong. Even these last few years, I should have put my foot down. But…" her voice slightly cracked. "I thought I had lost you, and that there was no hope. So when he called, which was a shock, I knew I hadn’t lost it. And mostly, I hadn’t lost you," she pawed at his hair, gently combing it with her fingers. "Its not a time just for you to start over, son. But for me too."

After all Bryce had been through, since this morning, the last few days, and perhaps his whole stupid life, he found himself sobbing, and welcoming his mother’s embrace as he fell into what was virtually a stranger. Her smoothing rubs on his hair and back. When he caught his breath, the two of them stepped out of the car. Bryce took in a breath of farm fresh air, slightly feeling better, even if still a little unsure of this new life. "Where is h—Jim, I mean?"

"It’s a Saturday," Clara reminded him. "Busy day at the barbershop, especially when he’s got services the next day." She started to walk up to the steps to the house, but then turned around, saying, "Leave your things, I’ll take them in. Why don’t you take a walk around the place? I’ll come find you if you get lost." She went into the house without another word, leaving Bryce to wander. The sun was shining down on him, making the cold air feel slightly better. Since it was December, there weren’t vegetables or fruits blooming out of the ground, but he wondered if things had been planted. Bryce knew nothing about farming or harvesting. He could hear a few animals and poked his head into a few of the stalls but was too nervous to go in and pet some of the sheep and horses. Bryce was curious just how much land Jim had.

He made his way back into the house where it seemed his mother had a spread of things waiting for him to make a sandwich. She lightly talked to him as if no time had passed at all, complaining about her students. She taught high school English, the same school Bryce would be starting at come Monday. Clara asked if her son was in any sports and clubs back at his old school. There were a number of activities Bryce could have been a part of at his fancy school, but no. He never got involved. Clara suggested he should, that way he could make some new friends, besides others he might meet at church. The thought of that made Bryce cringe, but he shoved it down, trying not to show it on his face.

His room was simple, but he figured he didn’t need much. Although, going from a queen-size bed to a single twin bed was going to be a bit of an adjustment. Then again, everything was going to be it seemed. He toured around the rest of his house on his own while his mother took care of things for the farm. Sometime before 5, she called out to him that they were going to head into town. They drove in silence, as the sky started to get dark. When they pulled up to what was likely the main drag Clara had mentioned before, there were lampposts every ten feet on the sidewalk. It seemed like the whole town itself was under a whole makeover, not just the bar. Clara pulled into a spot and they both hopped out of the car. Strolling by a few shops, she announced, "I’m going to stop into the bar real quick. I’ll meet you at the shop, its just a few blocks down, you can’t miss it. Jim is still open for a bit," and she turned on her heel and went into the bar.

Bryce didn’t think much of it, other than why couldn’t he join his mother. Till it dawned on him, why he might be going to Jim first. Bryce felt at the back of his head, realizing what he was about to face. Bryce slowly paced himself down the main drag, hands dug into his jean pockets. He saw the iconic spiraling barber pole lit up when he got closer, and the air and his body suddenly felt much colder. The glow from the front windows was blinding too before he even was in front of the shop. When he did reach it, he looked inside. A few chairs but only one barber working, looking like he was in his mid-forties, taking care of a man of similar age. The barber was wearing one of those typical tunics, like he was from the last century, and slacks and dress shoes underneath. This must be his stepfather, with chestnut brown hair cut short. Not a buzzcut, and not skin showing, but like a grown-out crewcut, with just enough in the front. Bryce took a deep breath in and opened the glass door, the bell chiming overhead as he entered.

Jim turned around from his client, with a warm and big smile on his head, saying "Woah! There he is!" Turning back to his client, he said, "Danny, that’s Clara’s son," then turned back to Bryce and said, "Take a seat, stay a while dude, be with ya in a minute." Bryce was stunned further now but the overwhelming positive attitude from this stepfather of his, who he never met before, welcoming him like he had. Bryce found a seat in the empty waiting space and took in the sight around him. Mirrors decorated the whole wall opposite him, clearly for the barbers’ work. Behind and all around him were black and white and sepia-toned photos, possibly from yester-year of the town. The linoleum tiled floor could use some updating, and yet, it added to the whole homey vibe.

When this Danny was done with his haircut, and had paid Jim before leaving, Jim turned the blinds down, and flipped the sign to say "CLOSED". Turning back around with a smile for Bryce, saying, "Well dude, no time to waste. I know its been a long day," patting the chair, Bryce’s awaiting throne. "Why don’t you have a seat."

Bryce nodded his head, and with shaking feet, stood up and walked over. Jim began to cape him up, still with a smile, saying, "So nice to finally meet ya, I am so glad to have ya hear dude. I know your mama is too. Bit of a shock, but she’ll come around. I know I was excited when she told me last night when I got home."

Now Bryce was truly confused. "Why, though? You’ve never met me. And I’m sure my mom told you why I’m here."

Jim massaged his stepson’s shoulders. "Sure, that might be why you’ve come this way. But that don’t matter no more. What’s matter is that you ARE here, now. And we are thrilled to have you. We all fall off the horse every once in a while. But we can get back up again."

Bryce mumbled, "It feels like I’ve never been on a horse, though."

Jim took this in, nodding his head, "Maybe that’s why you’re here. To find your steed," winking at Bryce in the mirror. "Now, before your mama shows up and yells at us for being Chatty Cathy’s. What are we gonna do about this?" Jim lightly tugged at Bryce’s mullet. "You have some nice hair, son, but why would you do something like this to it? All those chemicals in there."

"Guess because all my friends did it," Bryce suggested under his breath.

Without a moment of hesitation, Jim took a pair of scissors out of his front pocket, and immediately went to town. With the longer part of hair that exceeded beyond his neck, held up by Jim, he took his scissors and chopped right through. The shop went silent and all that could be heard was the literal sawing sound of thick hair against steel. Bryce felt it at the back of his head, his mouth opening to a larger "O" at each snip coming from the back, until the last bit was cut. A similar feeling to when his father pulled his hair the other night. Jim held the bit of long hair up like a trophy before letting it all fall from his hand onto the cape like the last bit of leaves still outside from fall. Loose curls truly cut loose now, decorating all over the pinstripe cape adorning Bryce. He knew he was imagining things, but he could feel a breeze across the back of his neck now as any of the hair at the back was now bluntly cut.

"That’ll do it," Jim smiled. "Now I know you’ll miss your old fashionable looks, but you’ll be much happier with a more practical haircut. Especially with helping around the house and on the farm, and when you do sports at school. Trust me, you’ll be thanking me later dude," Jim said as he combed down the hair from top down.

Bryce did his best to hold back tears, he thought what he let out earlier would be enough, but clearly it wasn’t. Somehow, Jim sensed it. Before he proceeded with the haircut, he turned to face Bryce, letting out a sigh. "Look, I know its all a shock son. But sometimes to get comfy with life, we gotta go through a bit of discomfort, ya know? You might not get it now, but seriously, Bryce, you will. I know you will. He has a plan for all of us, on a horse or not. I want you to know that, and that you can come to me with anything. We don’t know each other, but I’m hoping that changes, and that you can come to me when you need, or if you want. I’m more than looking forward to showing you the ropes around the farm, and take you around town. But when things get to be too much, all ya need to do is give me a little nudge and say ‘Hey Jim, can ya pump the breaks?’, and I’ll back off. Ya hear me now, son? No need to hold back with me."

Bryce nodded his head, feeling a few stray tears leak down his face. He went to go grab one, embarrassed, but Jim beat him to it. His hands smelled of a cross between dirt and barbicide. It smelled like home, and his gritty and coarse touch felt warm. Bryce looked up at Jim, and his stepfather whispered, "I mean it, hear if ya need."

After their touching moment, Jim went back to his earlier ecstatic attitude. "Alright dude, time to get back to what we are here for. I shouldn’t have scared ya and jumped the gun like that. But will ya let this old man cut your hair?"

Bryce laughed, wiping away an extra tear, "Your not an old man."

"Ah, I so am dude. Don’t let these good farmboy looks fool ya," Jim picked up a set of clippers, oiling and cleaning, before firing them up. He came to Bryce’s right side, and slowly purred the clippers up the side of his head. Bryce wasn’t so sure he’d ever had clippers taken this high up the side of his head. The path it left in its wake was jarring, as he caught a glimpse in the mirror. He felt goosebumps all along his arms after each new swipe of the clipper, slowly carving out his new look. When Jim moved behind his head, he plowed through the last vestiges of the mullet. What only earlier today was a long, plush, flowing set of curls, now was shorn to stubble for this winter weather. He felt like his eyes were going to fall out at this new sensation of the clippers pushing up the back of his head.

"Feels different, don’t it?" Jim teased, and laughed at himself. This put Bryce at ease and he started to laugh too. As Jim continued to clipper the sides and back of Bryce’s head, they carried out a conversation. Jim told him all about the town, his growing up here, and his life since taking over the farm and other businesses. Jim also took the time to ask Bryce about things he liked to do, or enjoyed. Bryce found he didn’t have that many interests, outside of being glued to his phone or going to parties. Jim said he was sure there’d be parties to go to, but hopefully Bryce would put the phone down every once in a while when living here.

Once Jim was done with the back and sides sheering, he started to even things out between that and the top, still leaving the messy mop on top for the moment. But that didn’t last long. Jim spritzed things down lightly, and combed it all forward. Then, with clipper over comb, from back to front, he began to weed off the top. The sharp zip sound of machine across comb was slightly frightening to Bryce, but not as much as the mass hair clumps that fell to the cape and floor. He couldn’t really tell how much was left under the comb, but he knew it had to be short. Especially as Jim kept going over it all again and again until it couldn’t have been any longer than an inch at the front. Bryce got a better sense of the damage when Jim stepped away for a second, seeing just how shorn down he was. It was sort of like Jim’s hair, come to think of it, except with these severe sides and backs. Jim double checked his work, and did a bit more for blending from the super short sides and back to the newly cropped top. Then Jim used the blow dryer to clean things up, before adding a bit of product, adding a slight flip at the front. At first, Bryce thought it might make him look like a little kid. But with the rest of the cut, it really didn’t. He looked a lot more mature. Like how a true teenager should, not what society depicted they should for that year.

"I guess its not that bad," Bryce found himself saying out loud.

"Not even out of the chair and we got a winner," Jim laughed, "Shoulda bet ya on it." Then Jim took some smaller clippers and edged out Bryce’s neckline and around the ears. Then he was surprised when Jim applied some hot lather and began to clean up where he just had with a straight edge razor. It felt so relaxing, he knelt right into it and let Jim take control. This was at least one thing he could get used to. Finally, Bryce was dusted down and the haircut was complete, just as his mother entered the shop. "I know you didn’t think you’d be looking like this, son, but I am glad you indulged this old man."

Bryce laughed. "Its not that bad, really, I don’t know what I was nervous about."

"It looks perfect," Clara said as she stepped closer. With the haircut done, Bryce offered to help Jim out with cleaning up before the three of them left. Clara and Jim took Bryce to dinner at the bar they owned. Back home that night, they put on some sports and watched TV while Clara continued to do school work. Bryce had switched into a pair of sweatpants and one of Jim’s flannels he’d offered. Bryce felt at home in it.

"Can I ask something?" Bryce interrupted their bonding.

"Shoot," Jim said, not tearing his eyes away from the TV.

"Do you think…" Bryce hesitated, and at that Jim sensed it, so he turned and gave him his full attention. "Do you think it be okay if I went by a new name?"

"What’s wrong with Bryce?" Jim asked in his drawl.

Bryce shrugged. "I dunno, just feel like that’s past me. The one I’m trying to work out of."

"Well, what did ya have in mind? Or, more like, who?"

"Well, my name is Theodore James…I don’t really like Theo or Teddy though. I thought about James, but, that would be…Jim…"

"…or Jimmy?" Jim offered up, with the slightest smile. "I’m not putting any pressure on ya, dude, its your call. But if you think I’m gonna take offense, ain’t got nothin to worry about."

"Okay," Bryce nodded back, allowing himself to think over it all night, and the next day while they sat at church and his stepfather gave the sermon. Jim didn’t bug him again about it the rest of the weekend. When Bryce did start school on Monday, the teachers of course didn’t know about his nickname. Clara hadn’t told anyone that the new student was her son just yet, lest word get around. So when his first teacher said his full name, and asked what he’d like to be called if he had a nickname, he announced, "Jimmy."

Well, the new Jimmy was happy to find that not everyone had the floppy hair he once did. Most sported shorter styles like his, or even shorter. It did feel like he’d gone a little bit back in time, not just because of the other boys’ looks, but that everyone was so nice and polite. He kept to himself for the morning, but when it came to lunch and he was at his locker, a group of boys who’d been in a few classes with him introduced themselves more formally, and asked Jimmy if he wanted to join them for lunch. Soon enough, by the end of the day, word had got around school about the new sophomore kid named Jimmy, which took Clara by surprise. Until later that night, Jimmy did confess to his mother and stepfather about his decision, which they were in full support of.

Thus began the new way of life: helping out at the farm, at church, and occasionally at the barbershop. When it came to school though, Clara made sure her son earned high marks, which Jimmy proved to do. With all the friends he made, they encouraged him to go out for sports. Some were going out for track that spring, so he figured he would too. He found that he enjoyed it, and had a bit of a knack for the sprints and a few field events. Some teammates then told him he should go out for football in the fall, but he was hesitant because of all the farm work to do come spring and summer. But his parents insisted that he do, that he could juggle both, it was part of being here. Jimmy went into the summer with much to look forward to, and the rest of high school went at its own pace. He had changed and moved on from his past life. Forgetting about it even to a degree. He deleted his old social media profiles and created new ones, except he felt like that was pointless as he barely looked at them now. He had truly begun to mature into a real man, not necessarily by force, but by choice. People around town would tell Clara and Jim how good a kid he was, surprised to find out that Jim wasn’t his actual father. But Jim treated him like he was.

It was during the middle of Jimmy’s senior year, he had already turned 18, been Homecoming King and was a captain of the track team. It wasn’t a call to the house, but on a raw Saturday after practice when Jimmy was out back helping with the animals, he saw a familiar looking car pull up. He put the animals at ease as he backed away. Jimmy was still sporting the same haircut his stepfather gave him when he arrived, although he was due for a cleanup sooner rather than later. He took the gloves off his hands and wiped the muddy mess on his shirt and pants. A man in a suit stepped out of the car as Jimmy approached, and Jimmy called out, "Can we help ya?" Then, he froze in place. It was the driver from a few years ago. "Hey I know ya."

"I thought you might remember me," the driver said. "You look different, Bryce. Good different."

"Thanks," Jimmy nodded. "But I go by Jimmy now."

The driver nodded, "Well, Jimmy it is. Suppose it doesn’t matter what nickname you go by."

Clara and Jim stepped out of the house, Jim announcing, "Something we can help ya with, pal?"

All four of them stepped inside into the living room. The driver dropped the news with no hesitation. Theodore James Halperin III had passed away. Car accident, he’d been the one drinking, and still killed the other driver on impact. Because he’d never amended his will, and his only surviving child was of a certain age, that left all the inheritance of the Halperin fortune to Theodore James IV. He could do whatever he wanted with it, go back to his old life if he even wanted. Jimmy stood up from his seat on the sofa, hands on top of his head, in disbelief. No, he said, he wouldn’t be going back there. But if the inheritance was his, then it was his. He’d take it, in whatever schematic years long plan put aside to touch it. But he’d be putting it into the farm, it was long overdue things around here were updated. When the driver left, saying they’d be in touch, Jimmy told his parents he could also put the money into their other businesses, if they’d let him.

"And," Jimmy began, "if I’m truly to take over these businesses one day, like you both keep promising, then there are two things we gotta do. One, after graduation, I need to sign up for barber school," he turned to Jim and said, "I ain’t gonna let that business go away. Your uncle passed it to you, I intend to keep it at least one more generation in the family. And on that note," he placed a hand on each of their shoulders, "I think its about time we change my last name." At that, his parents dissolved into tears, and embraced him like never before. They didn’t waste a second, and with Jim’s city council connections, went right to the courts of appeal and filled out the paperwork for him to become Theodore James "Jimmy" Martin. They’d already become a family, but now, they were even more than that.

---