The haircut

My childhood sweetheart rang. We hadn’t spoken in twenty-five years. He said, ‘Also, I am seeing somebody else now.’ It was as if we’d been in the middle of a conversation, as children, and he’d only just remembered to mention it now.

My whole body started to tremble. I said, ‘Can I speak to her?’ but he told me she couldn’t come to the phone because she was out getting a haircut.

A wave of grief rose up in me. It was the thought that this person had hair, hair that needed cutting, and presumably also then a whole head with a brain inside it, and a body that was alive. She was a whole person, and I was not.

After the phone call, I sat in a chair, sobbing, and tried to eat a long raspberry bun. I had read that when you’re feeling down you should eat, and this was all I had. The bun was delicious, but eating it was a miserable experience. It grew larger and larger in my hands, and my mouth seemed to keep changing its location, until eventually I was just smashing the raspberry bun into my face, hoping some of it would get in. I had the sense that my childhood sweetheart was watching me trying to eat and feeling relieved at his decision.

About ashleighlou

Person, usually on bike
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3 Responses to The haircut

  1. Vaughan Henry says:

    I love Chelsea buns – are they like raspberry buns, but longer? my childhood sweethearts (like the buns) shimmer in my memory like the endless days of summer

    Liked by 1 person

    • ashleighlou says:

      the ones I’m thinking of are i think Raspberry Fingers? (An oddly sinister name.) You can buy them in plain packets from the supermarket – they’re long, with pink icing. I think Chelsea buns are the round ones with a little swirl in them – kind of pinwheel-like.


  2. Mark Hubbard says:

    Ya should’ve gone with gin.


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