Free Love Me If You Must by Nicole Young

next morning and noticed a crop of flyaway grays that hadn’t been there the day before.
    I dialed the Beauty Boutique and was greeted by the chipper voice of Tammy Johnson.
    I tried not to gloat as I arranged a Tuesday appointment. “I’ve just got to have my hair done before Friday. David Ramsey is taking me to dinner.”
    Tammy’s silence told me I’d hit the mark.
    I spent the rest of Saturday staying clear of the cellar door. Since the front bedroom in the second story needed only a fresh coat of paint, I made that my weekend project. By Monday night, the walls, ceiling, and trim were painted, and the room was ready for new flooring.
    I woke with a tremor of excitement on Tuesday morning, maybe from the promise of a new me, maybe from smugness. Either way, I arrived at the salon at 10:00 sharp and plopped into the twirly chair at Tammy’s station. The sharp smell of perm solution lingered from a previous client.
    I took a moment to admire the distinctive touches that were in keeping with the town of Rawlings’ historic theme. Dark trim traced the lines around the ceiling and floor. On the wall behind me hung a tapestry depicting seventeenth-century women wearing tall hairdos and poofy gowns. A floral swag in burgundy and cream draped the mirror at each work station.
    I focused on my reflection as Tammy fingered my frizz. One side of her mouth curled, giving away her apparent distaste.
    My stomach twisted. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that Tammy was probably the last person I should let touch my head.
    I smiled, hoping to disarm her. “So, what do you recommend?”
    She stared at me in the mirror and continued to play with my hair. My fingers started to twitch. I contemplated the best escape route if she should come after me with the clippers.
    Finally, she dropped my locks. “I’d say you should go with a classic shoulder-length cut. But, I’m afraid you’d resemble Sandra even more.”
    “Sandra?” I echoed, even as I realized she must be referring to my elusive twin.
    Tammy sighed. “Not everyone will appreciate your resemblance to her. We don’t want to make the situation worse. Could you stand a chin-length style?”
    She showed me a picture of one she had in mind.
    I glanced at the glossy magazine. The model looked pure chic. I figured I’d give it a try. I’d look classy next to David’s distinguished form come Friday night.
    Tammy led me to the washtub. The soothing massage action of her extra-long fingernails against my scalp lulled me into a state of serenity.
    “So what restaurant are you going to Friday?” Tammy’s voice filtered through the sound of spraying water as she rinsed my hair.
    “The Rawlings Hotel.” I wondered if she was jealous, and thought a change in subject might be wise, at least until she was done with the cut. “So, tell me about my twin. Why does her face cause such an uproar around town?”
    She toweled my hair and draped a black plastic apron around me, then sat me back down at her station.
    “Sandra.” Tammy shook her head. “She’s one of those women who can cause a commotion wherever she goes. Beautiful, spunky, driven . . . you know the type.”
    Yeah. Sandra sounded like the person I’d dreamed of becoming, if only things had gone differently.
    Tammy picked up a brush and ran it through my hair. “Sandra and I went to high school together. We were both on the cheerleading squad, in student government, and tied for Most Likely to Succeed.”
    The brush slowed and Tammy’s gaze became distant, as if she were lost in memory. “After college, a bunch of us came back home and started up our own businesses. I was content to operate the salon and have time to do other things. Sandra, on the other hand, was totally devoted to building her marketing company. She was based here in Rawlings, but her clients were spread all over the Detroit metro area.”
    Bristles snagged in my hair. I blinked back tears.
    “Sorry,” Tammy said, untangling