Chapter 22 - Maisie Chooses the SalonMaisie was ten when she asked:
“Can I cut my hair short?”
Declan froze.
She noticed.
“You don’t want?”
His instinct said no.
Her hair had finally grown long again.
For years, he had treated its length as proof that time repaired things.
That was his symbolism.
Not hers.
He smiled.
“Your hair.”
At the salon, the stylist asked:
“How short?”
Maisie pointed to her chin.
“Here.”
The scissors came up.
Maisie’s shoulders tightened.
The stylist immediately stopped.
“Want a minute?”
“Yes.”
Five minutes later:
“Okay.”
Snip.
A lock fell.
Maisie watched.
No tears.
The stylist paused after each section.
“Still okay?”
“Yes.”
When finished, Maisie looked into the mirror.
A short brown bob.
Even.
Chosen.
“I like it.”
Declan’s eyes filled.
“Dad face,” Maisie said.
He laughed.
He had learned not to turn her haircut into his healing story.
So he only said:
“You look happy.”
May you like
“I am.”
That was enough.
