“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
So I called Gloria. She picked up, sounding distracted and almost annoyed.
“She’s probably just going through a phase, Eva. Girls that age become dramatic over nothing. We all went through it!”
I tightened my grip on the phone. “She’s been locked in her room crying for two days.”
Gloria gave a tired little sigh. “Eva, honestly! Everything becomes a crisis with you.”
“Did something happen this weekend?”
“No,” Gloria’s reply came too fast.
“Gloria… listen…”
“I’m not doing this,” she snapped and hung up.
“She’s been locked in her room crying for two days.”
I stood in my kitchen, staring at the silent phone while a sick feeling spread through me slowly. If nothing had happened, why did Gloria sound like that? Why did my daughter sound terrified?
By the third morning, I’d had enough. I banged on the door hard enough to rattle the frame. “Letty, open this door. Now.”
“NO, MOM! PLEASE!”
I went to the hall drawer, took out the spare key, and finally unlocked it. By then, all I could think was that I should’ve done it sooner.
The moment the door opened, Letty had turned off the lamp.
“Go away!” she cried from near the bed.
By then, all I could think was that I should’ve done it sooner.
I reached for the switch and flooded the room with light. Then I saw her… and froze.
My daughter was sitting on the floor wrapped in a blanket so tightly it looked like she’d pulled it around herself just to keep from coming apart. And when she looked up at me, I forgot everything, because her beautiful dark hair was… GONE.
Not shaved. Not cut. Gone in color. From root to tip, a brittle, pale silver-gray that made her look like someone had drained the life straight out of her.
“Mom,” Letty whispered, tears spilling harder, “please don’t be mad.”
I dropped to my knees in front of her. “Oh my God… baby, what happened to you?”
Then I saw her… and froze.
“Grandma said I couldn’t tell you.” Letty’s mouth trembled. “She said if I told you, you’d ruin everything. That you’d never let me see her and Dad again, and it would be my fault.”
“Letty, honey, tell me exactly what she did.”
My daughter pulled the blanket tighter. “She kept saying my hair looked careless. That girls my age should try harder. That I’d look prettier if I were different. I told her I didn’t want to, but Grandma said I was being ungrateful.”
“Did she do this to your hair?” I asked.
Letty gave the smallest nod.
“How?”
“Dye. Bleach. Something.” She started crying harder. “It burned, Mom.”
“Did she do this to your hair?”
That nearly undid me. I wrapped my arms around her, held on until she quieted, then grabbed my keys. “Come on. We’re going.”
She looked up, startled. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”
I crouched back down and touched her face. “Fine, I’m not taking you there. I’m taking care of this.”
***
The whole drive to Gloria’s, my hands shook on the wheel. I parked crooked in the driveway and pounded on the front door. No answer. I grabbed the handle, and it turned.
The moment I stepped inside, my body went rigid.
Hair product bottles covered the coffee table. Towels lay in a heap on the floor, stained an odd yellow-white. A mixing bowl and comb sat side by side as if someone had left mid-cleanup. It looked less like a grandmother’s house and more like a private disaster.
“I don’t want to go anywhere.”
Gloria came out in a robe tied too tightly at the waist. She stopped when she saw me. “What are you doing barging into my house?”
“What did you do to my daughter’s hair?”
Gloria folded her arms. “I… I was trying to help her. She needed a change.”
“Change?” I repeated.
“It’s just hair,” she shrugged. “You’re overreacting.”
I stormed past Gloria to the bathroom. She followed, talking in that clipped, defensive voice people use when they know they’ve gone too far but can’t bear to admit it.
“You’re overreacting.”
“It was supposed to look elegant,” she muttered. “Letty agreed. Teenagers panic over everything.”
The bathroom sink was spotless. Gloria had already scrubbed it back to innocence. I checked the cabinet. Nothing. Then I yanked open the trash can and found the box.
Harsh chemical color. A second bottle, half-empty, lay beside it.
I held them up and turned on her. “What is this?”
For the first time, Gloria looked unsure. “I panicked. The first one didn’t work the way I expected.”
