Ponytail

Me and Lucy still shared a room. It was a smaller room, the same one we had slept in since we were old enough to be in big kid beds. Two twin beds on either side, with about five feet of old carpet between them. My side of the room was pretty plain; I still had my old Winnie the Pooh comforter and a few eclectic pieces of decor that my mom had hung on my wall over the years. Lucy’s side of the room blossomed with life; her bed was strewn with stuffed animals, she had hanging plants and a curated assortment of colored Christmas lights, origami animals hung by colored thread, dried flowers, and artwork made by herself and friends washi taped to the walls. One of the pieces of artwork was a crumpled marker drawing I had made for her when I was in kindergarten and she was seven. It was two girls and a VERY stripey tiger. The two girls were me and Lucy, and the tiger was just there I guess. It said, “BIST FRENDS.” I wasn’t very sentimental but Lucy loved that drawing.

Right now, Lucy was asleep on top of her bright green comforter in the midst of scraps of magazine she was using to collage. She had long brown hair, super thick, and it was in a ponytail. It lay out behind her perfectly on the bed. I was sitting on my bed deceiving myself that I was doing homework while actually just fluctuating between checking my instagram and sending random goofy texts to various friends. I sent a picture of sleeping Lucy to my best friend Christina.

Fighting the intrusive thought to take those scissors and chop off Lucy’s ponytail. JkJk. Laughing emoji.

...

Omg, imagine. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you.

...

I’m a prankster but not THAT far Chris.

...

Laughing emojis.

I put my phone down and tried to get back to whatever it was I was reading. The words

might as well have been Egyptian hieroglyphics, they were so meaningless to me. I glanced up again, my eyes moving towards the scissors. But why did I actually want to do it?

In a moment I was moving, my mind a blank slate. I crossed the five foot divide and snatched the scissors silently from the comforter. I looked greedily at the ponytail as I slipped the blade underneath the little loose area right between Lucy’s head and the rubberband. In one smooth motion I sliced through all one hundred thousand brown hairs. The scissors made a soft creaky sound and the hair gave no resistance. The ponytail fell limply to the bed and I felt a flush rise to my face as Lucy’s cropped hair slowly unfolded into a blunted pixie.

She stirred. I don’t know why my response was to drop the scissors and grab the ponytail. But I didn’t try to hide; I just stood there while she opened her eyes and rolled over to look at me.

“What are you doing?” She giggled, groggily and confused.

Her eyes shifted to the slain ponytail in my hand. She woke up all at once, her hand flying to the back of her head.

“What the hell?!” Her eyebrows sharpened into a straight line across her face, her mouth stiffened. “Annie, what in the world?!” She flew to a seat, her hand accidentally crushing her collage in the process. Her anger shifted and tears rose to her eyes.

I don’t know why my instinct was to lighten the mood, even though inside I felt guilty enough to surrender to eternal punishment.

“I...I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking...” I half giggled, half choked, putting my spare hand to my forehead.

Lucy kept running her hand through her short hair. Tears were coming out of her eyes. “This is NOT funny.” Her voice was pitched and shrill. “I can’t believe you did that.”

I couldn’t either. I didn’t do things like that. Now I was crying too. “I’m sorry,” I said, the shock hitting me.

Lucy shook her head in sheer confusion and then slowly got out of bed and walked to the mirror. She looked at herself, still running her hands through her hair over and over and over. “Oh my gosh,” she whimpered. “I can’t believe you did this.” Her voice laughed a little, but it wasn’t a happy laugh.

Now I was full on sobbing, big half-silent sobs. I sat down on the bed, still clutching the ponytail in my hand. I didn’t want to cry loudly, because I didn’t want to make it even worse. After a minute she turned to me.

“Why did you do this?” Her tone was so genuine.

“I don’t know.” I sobbed. “I literally don’t know.”

Lucy gave one more sweep through her hair and wiped the tears away from her eyes. Then she came and stood next to the bed, arms crossed. I looked up at her, straight into her eyes; a mixture of pain and compassion. She sighed. “Something has got to be seriously wrong,” she said. “To make you do that.”

I kept crying, putting my face in my spare hand. A few minutes passed, and I heard Lucy sigh a few times.

“What do I do with this?” I finally asked, barely moving the hand with the ponytail.

A sigh. “Just throw it away I guess.” She was calm.

I sniffed loudly, heaving my tears back into my chest. Lucy stepped back from me slightly and I stood up. I went to the trashcan, and weakly let the ponytail fall into it.

“Can you take it out to the dumpster?” came her voice from behind me.

“Yeah,” I nodded. I cinched the plastic handles and tied them and then I went outside to

throw the bag away.