Chapter Twenty-Eight
Veronica
Sitting on the bed in the guest room, I watch Erin unpack. She brought four suitcases, and I’m salivating to see what is in each one. My eyes are glued to everything she pulls out of her suitcase, knowing most are for me. When I see her toss out two boxes of hair dye, I nearly fall off the bed. Denver looks up from where he’s sleeping by the bed and lets out an annoyed sound, letting me know I interrupted his nap.
I grab them and let out an excited squeal. “Thank you! Van won’t let me go to the store, and I was afraid to send him to get any. Knowing my luck, he’d bring back the cheap shit that would cause all my hair to fall out.”
Cline laughs from her perch at the end of the bed. I shoot her a smile and look at the boxes. One is ice blonde, so light it’s almost silver. The other is electric blue, damn near as bright as Van and Cline’s eyes. Instantly, I see myself with blond hair with kick-ass blue tips, giving the look the edge I like.
“I hated to tell you, but your roots are showing,” Erin says, not even bothering to look my way. “I noticed them the last time we Skyped.”
I want to toss something at her, tell her she is lying, but I can’t. Usually, my hair is changed too often to give the roots time to show, but not this time. I noticed them coming in last week. Since then, my natural honey blonde is starting to show even more. Considering the rest of my hair is midnight black, it doesn’t look all that great.
“I want to make my hair black just like yours,” Cline says, coming to look at the boxes in my hands.
“No freaking way, baby girl,” I say, grabbing her and pulling her into the bathroom to look in the mirror. “Look at those beautiful red waves. So pretty. Why in the world would you want to change it?”
I am not sure how to handle this shit, but I do know a six-year-old should not be thinking about dying her hair. I also know, if I had her hair, I would never let anyone touch it. It’s beautiful, just like her father’s.
“I want to look like you,” she says, looking at me in the mirror.
A wonderful heat warms my heart, but I push it away and respond, “You have your Daddy’s hair. Believe me; most women would give their left arm to have the same thing.”
“But I want to look like you,” she says again, pushing out her bottom lip.
Her words take me back to a place in my past, a place I still carry around with me. Georgia and I were making pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving, and I felt loved by a woman for the first time. All the feelings I should have had for my mother transferred to Georgia, and I wanted nothing more than to be just like her when I grew up. Knowing I could never be the beautiful African American woman Georgia was, I decided to become a chef. Considering that is what I grew up to be, I guess I never moved past that stage of my life.
I squat down, bringing my eyes level with hers. “You don’t need to look like anyone but yourself, Cline. Believe me, the girl you are is perfect.”
“Really?” she asks, her voice soft and timid.
I nod, smiling at her. “Absolutely.”
Before we can say more, Erin is calling us back into the bedroom. We move there slowly, my hand resting on the top of her auburn hair. As soon as my eyes land on her, and I see her holding a hot pink case in her hands, I have to laugh.
“I thought you could use this.” She says, holding it up like it’s the most precious thing her hands have ever touched.
“What is it?” the beautiful girl at my side asks.
Luckily, Cline has no idea the pink case holds my favorite vibrator. It cost me over a hundred dollars, but it was worth it. It could bring me to orgasm in less than a minute. It could even pull a double, something none of the men in my life could do, none before Van anyway.
“It’s something from my work.” I only half-lie, considering I did have to work more than a few hours to own the most perfect battery-operated boyfriend in the world. “I don’t really need it now, but it will be good to have in case of emergencies.”
Erin realizes her mistake and shoves it back in the suitcase, sending a smirk my way. “Must be nice, to be so lucky.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond about just how nice it is. Instead, she turns back to the suitcase. She rummages through it for a second before pulling out a box. It is wrapped in lime green paper and topped with a bright yellow bow.
She hands it to Cline with a gentle smile on her face. “I couldn’t come to visit without bringing my favorite little girl a present.”
I watch as she pulls off the paper and tears open the box. Inside is a collection of CDs, each one personally made by Erin. I look over Cline’s shoulder as she digs them out, seeing everything from Bach to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
“You need to listen to each one of those. I want you to pick out your favorite songs. Then, I’ll send you the sheet music for them, so you can play them for me on Skype,” Erin says, a sweet smile on her face.
More than once, over the last few weeks, Cline has played her guitar for Erin and Kat. Over Skype, they clapped and made her feel like she was a musical genius. In truth, she is. I see a future for her, one with her name in light and lots of sold-out stadiums.
“I don’t know how to read music,” Cline says, worrying her bottom lip. “But when I get big enough, Daddy is gonna let me take lessons so I can learn.”
I walk over and put my hand on her head. “I can’t play the guitar very well, but I can read music. If you want, I’ll teach you how.”
Mom had me in piano lessons for as long as I can remember, but I never had any talent for it. When I went away to school, I took guitar lesson, but I wasn’t any better with strings than ivory. Still, I can read music like a maestro. Surely, I can teach Cline the every boy does fine rule and a little more to boot.
“You’re so smart. I don’t think you’ll have any problems learning to read music,” I tell her, knowing it is true. “With a little bit of practice, you’ll be able to read it better than me. Then, you’ll be playing whatever you want.”
Cline eagerly looks up at me and asks, “Do you really think so, Ronni? You think I could play whatever I want, even learn all of Patsy Cline’s songs?”
“I have no doubt about it,” I reply honestly.
The way her face lights up causes my heart to thump painfully in my chest. It’s not hard to make this little girl happy. She eats up every little bit of attention anyone gives her as if she doesn’t deserve it. As much as I love the way she attaches herself to me, I hate that she feels like she doesn’t deserve the love I so freely give her.
Turning to Erin, I change the subject back to what I want to do at this moment. “Are you going to help me with my hair? I want it done before we leave for the clubhouse.”
“You’re going to need this.” Erin nods, pulling a bottle of color remover from one of the suitcases and tossing it my way.
I look at the box, my lips curling up into a snarl. “There’s no telling how long it’s going to take to strip this black out of my hair.”
I hate stripping color from my hair; it takes freaking forever. There is no other choice if I want to go blonde. If I tried to cover the black, without stripping it first, I’d probably end up with some fucked up shade of gray.
“Well, get started. I’ve been dying to try these colors out. I think the ice blonde will look killer with blue tips,” Erin says before looking over at Cline. “Now that I have a little helper, I’m even more excited.”
I was nearly twenty before my hair was even highlighted. Since then, I have changed it every few months. Considering I’m not rolling in the dough, Erin and Kat would play my hairdressers. Kat will do it if I ask, but she hates the smell and would rather give the duty to someone else. Erin, on the other hand, loves doing things with my hair. Half the time, she is the one that brings home boxes of hair dye.
Cline doesn’t even hide her excitement as she claps her hands, all earlier thoughts of coloring her own hair now gone. I smile down at her, bending just enough to place a kiss on her cheek.
“I’m going to be a great helper, Aunt Erin,” she squeals as she runs to the bathroom.
My friend looks to where Cline disappeared then turns back to me. “Did she just call me Aunt Erin?”
“Yes, she did.” I laugh, enjoying the look of surprise on her face. “Now, come on, Aunt Erin. Let’s get this shit done.”