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At Inman Perk this morning I’m dispensing coffee that is titled “Wired, not Tired Blend”. I haven’t slept a full eight hours in a week and it’s finally catching up to me. I see that I’ve managed, for the time being, to swallow my grief then let other things be swallowed, sitting on top of it, trying to bury it. I then somehow expect my head to properly digest everything I’ve fed it and figure it out but it gets scrambled and things don’t always come out right. It’s really hard to take every single minute, one at a time and understand that even though I may not know where I’m going, I’m going to end up where I’m supposed to be.
As I was putting on make up before getting to Inman Perk my head was swimming with thoughts of the new charms I found in the mail on Friday night. I knew what they were before tearing open the package and pouring them out on to the counter. My hands moved at the speed of light, putting things together, getting lost in it within seconds. I’m now understanding what Rob would tell me about the “zone” he’d get into when working on cars and things. Not that I don’t zone out when I write but that’s different.
I paint thick, black mascara on the lashes that extend from my right eye and I think ‘what has got me so intrigued with creating things?’ What’s got me so excited about making a necklace, when I’ve tried before, only to put it away and forget about it? I wouldn’t be doing this if Rob were still here.
Thoughts of Chicago float into the edges of my thought process. When I made the decision to move, part of that decision to leave was to expand my career as a hairdresser. I still have unanswered questions and want to learn in a controlled environment again. Being an assistant after nearly five years as a stylist will be quite an adjustment but I was finally willing to do it again. I planned to become an educator after completing Art and Science’s education program. I enjoy teaching and know I’ll learn even more in the process. It’s taken me years to get to this point, to want to cleanse myself of the experience of my previous employer, and be willing to learn again.
Then Rob walked in and I fell head over heels in love. I was determined to stick with my plan though. I was going to move no matter what. If he wanted to stick around then I’d be there. I was tired of putting things off for other people, not that he asked me to, but just living my life for other people in general hasn’t worked out so well.
When he died it left me completely dumbfounded. Career expanding has no longer become the most important thing on my life’s ‘to-do’ list. I am suddenly turned on by expanding creatively. I’m quite interested the process of actually making something. When I write, I have a general idea of where I’d like to go and every time I begin, the words take off in their own direction and I sit back and watch. For years I fought this. I wasn’t open to the change in my ‘plan’ when writing, painting or even haircutting. I now see that this is how it is. This is how the process happens and the more open I am to it, the better it gets.
I was talking to a client about it earlier this week. She paints for a living and was explaining to me that as soon as she puts the brush to the canvas the paint takes on it’s own identity and she’s just the channel for it to come through. I’m learning that even when I don’t feel like writing because I don’t know what to say, it eventually comes out if I just put pen to paper, or just turn the computer on.
I finish my make-up, head out for coffee, then work. For the first time this week, I’m not thinking about food, or when I’m going to sleep again but about the head of hair that’s in my hands. My first client is Robert. I’ve been doing his hair since I started at Salonred. He brought me a bottle of wine. A Cabernet, which is my favorite. Rob and I drank the most cabernets out of all the wine we experienced together.
“I brought this for you out of my wine cellar.” he tells me. “You eat meat right?”
“I do.” I smile, thinking this wine would be perfect with some “man food” as Rob called it.
“Good. It’s really good with a nice steak.”
I knew it!
“So get a nice wine glass, swirl it around and enjoy it with some red meat.” Robert smiles at me.
My eyes flood with tears as I think about his words. It’s almost as if Rob has picked out this bottle for me and is talking to me through my client. Those words are the same words he’d use to explain enjoying a glass of wine. He was good and taking things slowly, whereas I’m the one in a hurry all the time.
I blink a million times while keeping my blades moving, trying to get the hair done without crying. When I’m finished he hugs me and leaves. Every forty five minutes there is something new in my chair and I’m happy to see everyone. When I finish my last haircut and pack up I feel the insanity of the week sneak up behind me.
I’m driving to my parents. There is nothing to do in the car but think. Random thoughts float in and out of my head from which necklace am I’m going to start making first to the charms I’m going to put together once I get there, then on to details of Rob’s funeral, the color of his casket, and the fact that I still haven’t come to grips with the idea that I’ll never see him again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.
I decide to wallow in my misery a little longer and put in his favorite cd. Over and over I listen to the song he had recently become so attached to and remember us sitting on a couch at Java Vino two days before he died. He wanted me to look up the lyrics to it and hear the whole thing that night, as he could only remember the chorus. Days after he died I had it memorized.
By the time I make to my parents, I’ve stopped crying and feel better. I absolutely cannot wait to pour out everything I’ve bought and make something sparkly. Mom and I engage in our usual endless chatter while I’m cutting, wrapping, cussing at, and squeezing wire that is holding various charms together. She is trying to organize and color code everything for me.
“Does this look right?” I ask her and hold up a chain that I layered with other chains.
“Yeah.” she looks up at it. “Well wait.“ She points to the right side which is higher. “You’re a little off balance.”
To say the least.
“Dammit. I’ve gone over this three times. I’m going to put it on you and then fix it.” I get up and place the chain around her neck then undo the links with pliers until it’s fixed.
“Better?” she bats her eyes at me.
“Much!” I laugh and get back to it.
A couple of hours later we eat dinner then mom and I are back into the projects. More hours pass, and it’s finally midnight. Mom decides she’s going to sleep. I should but I’m not done yet. My finger tips are turning gray from the wire and I get lost a couple of times trying to figure out what to do next. Despite the frustration of not knowing what I’m doing, that every move I make is a trial and error one, I still enjoy every minute spent making the sparklies. For once in my life I feel I’m turning into someone I actually want to be. Someone I could actually love.