Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
“And she shaved hers so you would not be the only one,” I said, touching the edge of the print. “She did not want you to carry that embarrassment by yourself.”
“She did not want a single record of her looking this way to remain after she is gone,” Mason said, looking down at the small square of paper.
“Well, she did not want you to feel different,” I said.
“And now she is the one who feels different,” Mason said. “She is doing the exact opposite. She is trying to erase herself from our pictures so we do not have a record of her like this.”
I looked at the photograph, then at the peach towel hanging through the bathroom door, remembering where the ivory brush had been hidden.
“We need to go to Elm Street,” I said.
The screen door at Maribel’s brick cottage was unlocked, just as it had been the week before. We walked into the living room, where the smell of lavender soap was faint but familiar.
