Episode 44: Hair Salon: Emma Gets the Iconic Rachel Cut — 5,000 Core English Words

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Chapter forty-four. An afternoon at the hair salon.

Leo is four months old. Emma loves him to a frightening extent, and she has not been alone for one hour since he was born. Her hair has not been cut for a year. One evening she looks at an old photograph and sighs. Ryan sees the gesture, and makes a decision.

Listen to how to book a haircut, how to explain exactly what you want, and the easy conversation between a stylist and a client.

Ryan: I made you an appointment. Saturday, at two. The salon on Park Street.

Emma: You did what?

Ryan: A haircut. Wash, cut, everything. Two hours, just for you.

Emma: Ryan, I can't. Who will look after Leo?

Ryan: I will. I'm his father. That's precisely my role.

Emma: For two hours? Alone? He needs to eat at three.

Ryan: There's a bottle in the fridge. I know how to warm it. I've done it at night for weeks.

Emma: And if he cries?

Ryan: Then I'll pick him up. Emma, please. You haven't sat down without a baby on your lap since March. It's unfair. You deserve this.

Emma: I'm scared to leave him. Is that silly?

Ryan: It's not silly. It's a transition. You're protective. But I won't smash anything, and he won't notice you're gone.

Emma: He will definitely notice.

Ryan: Then imagine his delight when you come back with new hair. Go. I've got him.

Ryan had called the salon the day before.

Stylist: Good afternoon, Park Street Salon. This is Mia.

Ryan: Hi. I'd like to book a haircut for my wife. It's a surprise.

Stylist: How lovely. Has she been here before?

Ryan: Once, I think. A long time ago.

Stylist: No problem. When would she like to come in?

Ryan: Do you have anything on Saturday afternoon?

Stylist: Let me see. I have two o'clock or four thirty.

Ryan: Two o'clock, please.

Stylist: Is that just a cut, or a cut and color?

Ryan: Just a cut, I think. And a wash, and whatever you do at the end with the hot air.

Stylist: A blow-dry. I'll put her down for a wash, cut, and blow-dry. That's about an hour and a half. Can I get her name and a phone number?

Ryan: Emma Johnson. I'll give you my number.

Stylist: Perfect. She'll get a confirmation by text. If she needs to cancel, we just ask for a day's notice.

Ryan: Thank you. Could you take good care of her? She has a new baby, and she hasn't had a minute to herself.

Stylist: Say no more. I'll treat her like a queen.

Stylist: Emma? Hi, I'm Mia. Come and sit down. Can I get you a coffee, or some water?

Emma: A coffee would be wonderful. A hot one. I haven't finished a hot coffee since spring.

Stylist: Coming up. So, what are we doing today?

Emma: I honestly don't know. It's so long, and it has no shape. I tie it back every day because the baby pulls it.

Stylist: That's very common with new moms. How much length are you happy to lose?

Emma: Quite a lot. I was thinking about shoulder length. I brought a picture, for reference. It's a bit old-fashioned.

Stylist: Let me see. Oh, the Rachel! I love it. Layers around the face, a little shorter at the front, longer at the back.

Emma: Is it ridiculous? It's from a TV show I watched when I was a teenager.

Stylist: Not at all. It's a classic, and it's back. With your hair, it'll look amazing. It's thick, with a natural wave. You won't have to do much in the morning.

Emma: That's the important thing. I have about ninety seconds in the morning.

Stylist: Then here's what I'd do. Take off about ten centimeters. That's approximate. I'll check with you as I go. Cut long layers, so it moves. And keep the front pieces long enough to tuck behind your ear. Is that okay?

Emma: That sounds perfect. I trust you.

Stylist: Great. Let's get you washed first. Follow me.

Stylist: Lean your head back. Is the water temperature okay?

Emma: It's lovely.

Stylist: Tell me if I press too hard.

Emma: No, that's a sensation I'd forgotten. I could fall asleep.

Stylist: Lots of people do. No one will yell at you here. All right, let's go back to the chair. I'm going to comb it through and start at the back. Keep your head straight for me.

Emma: Can I ask you something? How long have you been doing this?

Stylist: Twelve years. I started in my mother's basement, cutting the neighbors' hair. Then I trained properly, and I worked on film productions for a while. Wigs, mostly, for a spy series. It was pure entertainment, and endless hours.

Emma: That must have been exciting.

Stylist: It was challenging. Then my son was born, and I wanted a job in one location. He's eleven now. He just won a medal for diving.

Emma: You must be full of pride.

Stylist: I am. Heights terrify me, though. The first time he jumped from the high board, I couldn't look. I pretended to read my phone. How old is yours?

Emma: Four months. This is the first time I've left him.

Stylist: Ah. How does it feel?

Emma: Like I've lost an arm. And also relieved, which surprises me. It's a relief. Is that awful?

Stylist: It's the most normal thing I'll hear today. Look down for me. Good. I'm cutting the layers now.

Emma: It's a pity nobody tells you. Everyone says it's precious, and it is. But nobody mentions the panic, or the tension. Some days I'm clueless. I had a full consciousness of how little I knew.

Stylist: Nobody knows. The educated ones just hide it better. How's this length at the front?

Emma: Could you take a little more off? Just a bit. I don't want it in my eyes.

Stylist: Like that?

Emma: Yes. Exactly.

At home, things are not entirely silent. At two forty, Leo wakes up and begins to cry. At two fifty, the kitchen sink makes a strange sound, and water rises in it.

Ryan: Okay, Leo. It's okay. Daddy's here. Are you hungry? It's too early. Are you wet? No. Then what?

Ryan: Let's walk. Up and down. I'll sing. You like the drum song. No? A folk song, then. No.

Ryan: And now the sink. There's a blockage in the pipe. Of course there is. I can't fix a pipe with one hand. Not today, evil, annoying sink.

He walks. He sings. He tries a trick his mother taught him: a slow, deep sound, like a boat. He holds Leo against his chest and turns in a circle.

Ryan: There. You like that. You like the boat. I resisted the urge to call your mother. Did you see that? That's talent. I'm thoroughly proud of both of us.

At three, Leo drinks his bottle, sighs, and goes to sleep on Ryan's shoulder. The sink waits.

Stylist: Okay. Let me dry it, and you tell me what you think. I'll use a round brush to give it some movement.

Emma: I'm afraid to look.

Stylist: Don't be. Here we go. And done. I'll hold the mirror so you can see the back.

Emma: Oh. Oh, Mia. Is that me?

Stylist: That's you. What do you think?

Emma: I love it. I look like a person again. I look like someone who sleeps.

Stylist: You look gorgeous. A little sexy, even, if I may say so.

Emma: You may. Nobody has said that in a while. My husband says it, but he's suspicious. He says it when I'm covered in milk.

Stylist: Then he's a keeper. Would you like any product in it? Something light, so it holds?

Emma: A little, please. How much do I owe you?

Stylist: It's sixty-five for the cut and blow-dry. You can pay at the desk.

Emma: Here's my card. And this is for you. Thank you so much.

Stylist: That's very generous. I appreciate it. Shall I book you in for six weeks from now?

Emma: Yes. I think I will. Same time.

Stylist: Done. Go home and amaze him.

Emma: I'm back! Is he all right? Did he cry?

Ryan: Who are you? What have you done with my wife?

Emma: Do you like it? Be honest.

Ryan: I'm not being honest. I'm being amazed. Turn around. Emma, it's beautiful. You look like the night I met you.

Emma: It's the Rachel. I had it when I was fifteen.

Ryan: I don't know who Rachel is, but I'd like to thank her. Seriously. It's moving, in both senses.

Emma: And Leo?

Ryan: Asleep. He cried briefly. I sang. We came to an agreement.

Emma: You didn't call me.

Ryan: I attempted nothing of the kind. I had one bad moment with the sink. There's a blockage. I'll get rid of it tonight.

Emma: You managed a baby and a sink. That's a convincing afternoon.

Ryan: I won't say it wasn't a little disturbing. Around two fifty I felt real terror. But it passed. It made a deep impression on me. You do that every day.

Emma: Not with a sink.

Ryan: With everything. I see it now. My involvement has been too small. That changes. Every Saturday, two hours. For the salon, or the studio, or nothing. Your choice.

Emma: Every Saturday? That's like winning the lottery.

Ryan: It's not a prize. It's just fair.

Emma: Come here. Thank you. I didn't know how much I needed it. I felt restricted, and I didn't want to say so. It sounded depressing, with such a treasure asleep in the nursery.

Ryan: It's not depressing. You can love him and still need a haircut. Neither one cancels the other, nor should it.

Emma: Look at us. Passionate about schedules. That's romance, at our age.

Ryan: In spite of everything, it is. I bet he wakes up in ten minutes and doesn't recognize you.

Emma: He'll know my voice. Shh. Listen. Not a scratch of sound.

Ryan: A spectator would think we were calm people.

Emma: Let them. I'm going to draw this. The initial hour of peace. A graphic record. My inspiration is back, and I didn't expect it. I derive it from strange places. A ministry of naps. A composer who only writes silence.

Ryan: Praise the stylist. And the width of that smile.

Emma: Praise the father. It takes craft. No rope, no transport, no instance of calling for help. You even amuse him.

Ryan: For a man who was terrified, I pressed on. Leo and I are an aspect of the same team now.

That is the end of chapter forty-four. Ten centimeters shorter, a great deal lighter, and a father who learned to sing like a boat.

Keep these with you: "I'd like to book a haircut." "What are we doing today?" "Just a trim, please." "Could you take a little more off?" "How much do I owe you?"

In the next chapter, the three of them take a train to visit Emma's aunt. The train, of course, is late.

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