Scissors - Part 3

“A trim. The usual trim so I don't look like a wildman and give all the other Jews in this town a bad name.”

“Okay,” Harold said. “I think I can do that. But you got to sit down in the chair.”

“Torture by Mr. Harold of Paris,” Saul said, settling himself in the chair. “And don't do any of that funny stuff with the hair dryer. that was a cute kid, that boy whose hair you just cut. You did a nice job. A real sweetie, that kid was. Did AI tell you Patsy is pregnant? My wife? Patsy? Harold? Hello? Hello?”

Harold was standing behind Saul, a pair of scissors in his rihgt hand. He was staring at the floor and holding onto the chair with his other hand.

“Harold?”

“What?”

“Harold,” Saul said. “amybe you need a little air.”

“Yes.”

“Buck up, Harold. Life goes on. Listen, you want to close the shop for a minute and go out for a beer? What to do a bit of basketball down at the high school? I've got the keys, Harold, keys to the gym. You could practice that lousy lay-up of yours, and that jump shot. How about that?”

“That would…yes,” Harold said. He was looking at himself in the mirrors, his reflections curving back into darkness.

“No, more of this,” Saul said, getting out of the chair and taking the cloth off from around his neck.

“No more snipping hair this morning. come on, Harold, we will go have lunch.” He stood at the door and turned the sign so that it read CLOSED. “Let's go.”

“I should stay. It's supposed to be a big business day.”

“Come on, Harold. A break. To relax.”

“All right.” He took off his smock and went over to the coat rack for his jacket. “You know,” he said suddenly, “the coupons and the hot air balloon were my idea. They were all my idea. The things I think of doing. Now it's all on the street, but we forgot about the wind. Imagine. It's spring, but we forgot about that.”

“It was a good idea, Harold, a good idea, and very original.” They went out to the sidewalk, and Harold closed the door behind him and locked it. Coupons were swirling in circle pattern and now stuck against his shoes. “It's a day of discounts,” Saul sai, “Everything's discounted today. The world is forty percent off. We should take advantage.”

“Sun's out,” Harold said.

“My point exactly.” Saul bent down toward the gutter and gathered up two hadfuls of coupons. “Bargains galore. What should we do with all these coupons, Harold?”

“Make them fly,” Harold said.

“Anything you say.” Saul threw a fistful of papers up into the air, and as they fell, Harold thought of the one time when he bad taken Louise out for dinner, one weeken when George was gone. She must have forgotten. They had driven to a seafuood restaurant thirty miles away, in Bay City, and Louise had ordered whitefish. All during the meal, she had held his hand. He hadn's noticed how awkward it had been, hadn't even thought about it until later, when he had patiently reimagined the dinner, minute by mnute. the light from the candle had made her hair shine with aslightly reddish glow; the curls, and the way they fell over her shoulders, made him think that any kind of future might be possible. But they didn't talk about their future. Instead, they sat there describing each thought, in that moment now, Harold smiled and reached out to touch Saul's shoulder.

“Did you know that woman?” Harold asked.

“No, Harold, I never did.”

“I knew her once.”

“I know that.” He reached for the barber's sleeve. “Hamburger time,” he said, walking up the street toward the diner.

The End.

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