my summer haircut part 2 by steve

---

As the door swung shut, a gust of warm air filled the barbershop, bringing with it the scent of the city. My eyes shifted to the next customer, a man in his early forties with a young boy in tow. The man was my colleague, Tom, and the boy, his son Alex. Tom looked a bit frazzled, his tie loosened and a smudge of something on his shirt that looked suspiciously like chocolate ice cream. Alex, on the other hand, was bouncing with excitement, his blond hair a wild mess that desperately needed taming.

Hey," Tom said, his eyes widening slightly when he saw me. "What are you doing here?"

"Just waiting for a trim," I replied, gesturing to my overgrown hair. "What about you two?"

Tom sighed. "Alex had an ice cream incident," he said, pointing to the chocolate smudge on his shirt. "And with the summer heat, he's getting pretty shaggy. Needs a clean-up."

Alex's eyes lit up when he heard the word "trim." "Can I get a mohawk like Uncle Steve?" he asked, bobbing his head in excitement.

Tom's shoulders dropped. "Alex," he warned, "you know your mom will kill me if I let you get a mohawk."

Alex's face fell, but before he could protest, I spoke up. "Why not an extreme head shave?" I suggested, my eyes still lingering on Jake's freshly shaved scalp. "It's cooling, and it'll be easy to maintain."

Tom looked at me with a hint of surprise, then at his son, gauging his reaction. Alex's eyes grew wide with excitement. "Can I, Dad?" he asked, hopeful.

Tom hesitated, running a hand through his own hair. "Well," he said slowly, "It's not exactly what I had in mind."

But Alex was already bouncing in his seat, the idea of an extreme head shave clearly much more appealing than a simple trim. "Come on, Dad!" he pleaded, his blue eyes shining with excitement. "It'll be epic!"

Tom looked at me with a mix of skepticism and amusement. "You think this is a good idea?" he asked.

"Why not?" I shrugged, watching as the barber cleaned his tools with meticulous care. "It's summer. He'll stay cool, and it'll be a fun story to tell."

Tom looked at me, then at Alex, who was practically vibrating with excitement. He sighed, then nodded. "Alright, let's do it," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But if your mom kills me, you're taking the fall."

The barber looked up from his cleaning, a glint of interest in his eyes. "Another one, huh?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he wiped the last of the shaving cream from his straight razor.

Alex's eyes grew even wider as he watched the barber approach, the cape flapping open with a dramatic flourish. The burly man's demeanor was surprisingly gentle as he wrapped the fabric around the boy's neck, the coolness of the cape a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin. He took a moment to adjust the cape, ensuring it was snug against Alex's shoulders. The cape looked comically large on the small frame, the edges brushing against the chair's armrests.

The barber took his time, his eyes studying Alex's hair as if he were a sculptor surveying his next masterpiece. He picked up the clippers, and with a knowing smile, turned them on. The sound was deafening in the quiet shop, the low hum echoing off the walls. Alex's eyes grew slightly wider, his breath hitching in his chest.

The barber began at the back, the clippers gliding over the unruly blond locks with the confidence of a maestro conducting an orchestra. The hair fell away in clumps, revealing the pale skin beneath. Alex watched in the mirror, his expression a mix of trepidation and excitement. Each snip of the clippers brought him closer to the daring look he'd only ever seen on the cool kids at school, the ones who seemed to have the courage to break free from the mold.

Tom sat in the chair next to me, his eyes flicking between the mirror and the growing pile of hair on the floor. His hand was clenched around the armrest, his knuckles white with tension. The mood in the barbershop grew tense, the only sound the rhythmic buzz of the clippers and the occasional snip of scissors as the barber shaped the back of Alex's head. The air was thick with the scent of hair and the faint tang of sweat.

The barber worked methodically, starting with the sides, reducing the thick mop to a mere fuzz before moving on to the top. He paused every so often to brush the hair away, inspecting his work with a critical eye. Alex squirmed in his seat, the anticipation almost too much to bear. He could feel the coolness of the air conditioning on his bare skin and knew that with each pass of the clippers, he was one step closer to the ultimate summer look.

Tom's gaze was glued to the transformation, his mind racing with thoughts of his wife's reaction. He knew she'd be upset, but the sight of Alex's unbridled excitement was infectious. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of his neat and tidy son walking through the door looking like a mini punk rock star. The tension in his hand slowly eased as the minutes ticked by, replaced by a strange sense of liberation.

The barber, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the moment, chatted with Alex about school and baseball, his voice a soothing baritone that filled the space. Alex's eyes never left the mirror, watching as the clippers moved closer and closer to the top of his head. Each time the barber stepped back to admire his work, the boy's eyes grew wider, his smile broader. The chocolate smudge on Tom's shirt was forgotten, a distant memory of a more mundane time.

As the clippers approached the crown of Alex's head, Tom leaned in, his curiosity piqued. The barber's hand was steady, the machine's teeth never wavering. With a final flourish, the last of the hair fell away, revealing a perfectly shaved head, with only a thin strip of blond hair standing tall like a proud flag down the center. Alex's eyes shone with excitement as he felt the barber's gentle touch, a stark contrast to the cold steel of the razor.

The barber stepped back, his work complete. "Alright, little man," he said, slapping Alex's shoulder, "you ready for the final touch?" Alex nodded eagerly, his heart racing with excitement. The barber lathered his head with a rich, cool foam that smelled faintly of mint and aloe. The sensation was unlike anything Alex had ever felt before—like a soothing caress after a day spent in the sun. His eyes closed in bliss as the man's skilled hands worked the shaving cream into his skin, massaging it into every nook and cranny.

Tom couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy watching the care the barber took with his son's head. The last time he'd had a shave like this was for his wedding, and even then, it had been a quick, efficient job. The barber's hands moved with a practiced grace that spoke of years of experience and an unspoken love for his craft. The foam covered Alex's head like a crown of white, the edges curling around his ears and down his neck.

Alex's eyes remained tightly shut, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. He could feel the coldness of the shaving cream against his skin, the tingle of the mint hinting at the transformation to come. The barber's hands were firm yet gentle, working the lather in a circular motion that sent shivers down his spine. It was as if the man were sculpting him into something new, something bold and daring.

The straight razor was cold as it first touched Alex's skin, sending a shiver down his spine. The barber began at the top of the strip, the blade gliding smoothly through the thick lather. Alex could hear the scrape of the razor, the occasional splatter of shaving cream and hair as it was whisked away. His eyes remained closed, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

The barber's touch was surprisingly gentle, the sharp blade moving in long, careful strokes. Alex could feel the tension in the man's grip, the slight tremble in his hand as he worked. It was a dance, a delicate ballet of precision and skill that Alex had never truly appreciated before. His heart raced as the razor traced the line of his hair, creating a stark contrast between the bare skin and the soft, white foam.

Finally, the barber stepped back, a satisfied look on his face. He wiped the remaining shaving cream away with a warm towel, revealing the sleek, new look. Alex's eyes popped open, and he stared at his reflection in awe. He barely recognized the boy staring back at him, the wild mop of hair replaced by a gleaming, bald dome . His heart raced with excitement and a hint of fear at what his mother would say, but the thrill of the new look was too great to be dampened by anything.

Tom couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. "You look like a little rebel," he said, ruffling Alex's hair—or what was left of it. Alex grinned, his cheeks reddening with pride. The barber handed him a small handheld mirror, and the boy twisted and turned, admiring every angle of his new look.

The barber stepped back, wiping his hands on a towel. "Alright, that'll be twenty bucks," he said, his voice bringing us back to reality. Tom reached into his wallet, pulling out a twenty and handing it over with a grateful nod. "Thanks, Larry," he said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and excitement.

Alex practically bounced out of the chair, his eyes shining with excitement as he examined his new look in the full-length mirror by the door. The stark contrast between the baldness was jarring, yet somehow, it suited him. He looked like a miniature rebel, ready to take on the world.

Soon, it was my turn. I took a deep breath and settled into the chair, feeling the familiar comfort of the worn leather beneath me. Larry's eyes met mine in the mirror, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He'd seen it all before, the look of excitement mixed with a hint of doubt. "Ready for the big leap?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling the weight of the decision. The buzz of the clippers grew louder as Larry approached, the anticipation making my heart race. I watched in the mirror as the first lock of hair fell, the sound of it hitting the floor a small victory against the heat outside. The sensation was surprisingly liberating, a gentle reminder that sometimes, the biggest changes start with the smallest of steps.

The hair on the sides of my head began to disappear, the coolness of the clippers a welcome reprieve from the sticky summer air. Larry worked with a quiet confidence, his movements sure and steady. Each snip of the scissors, each pass of the comb, brought me closer to the new me I'd been contemplating for weeks.

Tom watched, his amusement morphing into something like admiration. "You know," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear, "you're a braver man than I."

I met his gaze in the mirror, my smile a little shaky. "Or just more impulsive," I quipped, trying to keep the nerves at bay. The clippers buzzed closer to my ears, and I felt the prickle of cold steel against my skin. The sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating. It was like watching a sculptor at work, chipping away at the marble to reveal the masterpiece beneath.

As the hair continued to fall, Larry talked about his kids, his vacation plans, and the latest sports scandals, his voice a soothing background to the cacophony of the barbershop. The conversation was light, a perfect distraction from the transformation happening in the mirror. I found myself nodding along, my nervousness slowly dissipating with each snip.

The barber lathered my head, his strong hands massaging the cool shaving cream into my scalp. The sensation was unexpectedly comforting, the minty scent filling my nostrils and calming my racing thoughts. It was a ritual, a moment of surrender to the inevitable change. The foam covered me in a layer of white, like a blank canvas waiting for an artist's touch.

Larry's movements were deliberate and precise, his fingers tracing the contours of my skull as he applied the thick, velvety cream. The coolness of the lather was a stark contrast to the heat outside, and I couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as he worked. The gentle pressure of his hands on my head was oddly soothing, like a silent conversation that needed no words.

The straight razor was a cold line against my skin, and I felt the barber's grip tighten slightly as he began to shave the first strip of hair away. The blade was unforgiving, leaving a clean, smooth path in its wake. I could feel the tension in the room, the anticipation of the final reveal hanging in the air like the faint scent of aftershave. My eyes remained fixed on the mirror, watching as Larry's reflection moved in a silent dance, each stroke bringing me closer to the new me.

The sound of the razor was almost meditative, a gentle whisper that grew louder with each pass. The foam slowly disappeared, revealing my bare skin beneath, pink and freshly exposed to the cold metal. The barber's eyes never left the mirror, his focus unwavering as he sculpted my new look. I felt a strange sense of vulnerability, my head tilted back, my life quite literally in his hands.

Finally, Larry stepped back, a look of satisfaction etched on his face. He wiped the remaining shaving cream from my head with a warm towel, the heat a welcome sensation against the coolness of the shave. He handed me the small mirror, and I inspected the final product, turning my head from side to side. The man staring back at me was the same, yet somehow fundamentally different. The weight of my hair was gone, replaced by a sense of lightness that was both strange and invigorating.

Tom leaned in, his eyes squinting as he took in the new look. "Not too shabby," he said with a nod of approval. His voice was filled with a hint of envy, and I couldn't help but feel a smug sense of pride. Alex had moved on to the next chair, his eyes glued to the floor as he studied the pile of hair that had once been his. The sight of his son's bald head seemed to have settled something within him, a silent acknowledgment that sometimes, rules were meant to be broken—or at least bent.

Soon, Tom was in the chair, his tie loosened and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The barber, Larry, chuckled as he began to trim the edges of Tom's hair, his movements a little more playful than before. "You sure you're ready for this?" I asked, a smirk playing on my lips.

Tom took a deep breath, his eyes darting between Alex's shiny head and the mirror. "Well," he said, his voice wavering slightly, "in for a penny, in for a pound, right?"

The barber chuckled, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You're the boss," he said, picking up the clippers once more. The sound of the machine roared to life, and Tom visibly swallowed. Alex watched with rapt attention, his excitement for his dad's transformation outshining any fear of his mother's potential wrath.

The first clump of hair fell, and Tom's eyes grew wider in the mirror. He looked from his own reflection to Alex, who was grinning from ear to ear. "Looks good, Dad," he said, trying to sound confident. But as the barber continued to shave closer and closer to the top of his head, Tom's heart raced. Each snip of the clippers sent a shiver down his spine, the cold steel a stark reminder of the change he'd just signed up for.

The barber's hand was surprisingly steady, guiding the buzzing machine with a confidence that belied the gravity of the moment. Tom felt the hair on his scalp growing shorter and shorter, the sensation unfamiliar and slightly unsettling. Yet, there was something undeniably freeing about it. Like shedding an old skin to reveal the new, unblemished one beneath.

Alex watched with bated breath, his own excitement for his father's transformation mirroring his own earlier in the day. His eyes darted between the mirror and the pile of hair collecting on the floor, the realization that his dad was about to look just like him slowly dawning on him. He couldn't wait to see the final result, to compare their bald heads and declare themselves a matching pair.

Larry, the barber, was indeed an expert in his craft. His hands moved with the precision of a surgeon, the clippers gliding over Tom's scalp as if they were an extension of his own body. The way he angled the blade, the confidence in his strokes, it was clear that he had done this countless times before. Each snip of the hair brought Tom closer to the edge, the line between his decision and the reality of his new look growing thinner with every pass.

Alex couldn't contain his excitement as he watched his dad's transformation. He bobbed up and down in his chair, his own bald head nodding in time with the buzz of the clippers. The sight of his father's hair falling to the floor, joining the pile of his own, filled him with a strange sense of camaraderie. They were in this together, a duo of baldness that was about to take the world by storm.

The barber, Larry, moved with the grace of a seasoned artist, his hands deftly guiding the clippers over Tom's head. The room was filled with the steady rhythm of snipping hair, the occasional chuckle, and the hum of conversation. The air was thick with the scent of aftershave and the faint metallic tang of freshly shaved skin.

Soon, the final touches were complete, and Tom sat up, the cape fluttering around him like a cocoon opening to reveal a butterfly. The barber brushed the last of the hair from his shoulders and handed him the mirror. The reflection that stared back was unfamiliar yet oddly satisfying. The man with the neatly trimmed beard and bald head looked like a new person, someone who was ready to face whatever the world threw at him.

Tom took a deep breath and stood, his knees slightly wobbly. Alex looked up at his dad, his own bald head bobbing up and down in excitement. "You look awesome, Dad!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing in the now-empty barbershop. The barber chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Tom took the mirror in his hand, his thumb tracing the outline of his new look. "I'm not sure if I'd go that far," he murmured, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. I couldn't help but grin. "But it's definitely a change."

The three of us stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the day a stark contrast to the coolness of our freshly shaved heads. The brightness of the sun made us squint, our bald spots shining like tiny beacons. Alex looked up at us, his small hand tightly clutching his dad's, a proud smile stretching across his face.

---