Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
She reached up with both hands and grabbed the knot of her bright blue silk scarf.
With a single, quick tug, she untied the silk.
She let the scarf slip from her fingers, and it drifted down through the air, landing softly on top of the pile of my brown hair on the floor.
Her bald head was smooth and pale under the heavy chandeliers, reflecting the warm yellow light of the room. She had only a few silver strands left near the base of her neck, but she did not try to cover them.
She stood between us, her head held high, looking out at the guests who were starting to stand up from their tables.
“Well, Maribel,” I said, my voice steady as I took her hand. “I think we look rather beautiful.”
She laughed, a small, breathless sound, and squeezed my fingers tightly.
Evelyn had stood up from the head table now, her purse strap still gripped in her hand as she walked slowly toward the edge of the dance floor. Her face was no longer pale; it had flushed a deep red, and her eyes were fixed on her mother’s bare head.
