MADDIE
I fix a high-protein, low carb breakfast and go to wake Alex. I peek in his room, still very aware that not too long ago, it was our very bare guest room. I glance back towards our current guest room and sigh—I would be going in to wake up Lexi in that room if Jeremy had not completely shattered our lives. I open the door further and step into the room. I feel like crying—the way Alex is laying in the bed all twisted up in his covers is a dead give-away that he was restless last night because of the ‘nightmares’. April is actually encouraged that this is a sign that his memories are trying to break through to the surface, but it still breaks my heart to see my baby suffer and struggle so.

He is now seemingly in a deep, semi-restful sleep and I am shaken by the image of my happy Lexi peacefully dreaming of living out the life of her dreams. It is in moments like this, when he is most relaxed, that the post-operational differences in his face are apparent. They had to rebuild so much of it after the beating he took from his father. Overall, he has more exaggerated feminine lines because that is what the doctors and surgeons—and I—all thought Lexi would want. He will have a strikingly beautiful face for a woman when it matures. Of course, he will have a very feminine face for a man if he chooses that path.

I hate to, but I gently shake him awake and whisper, “Alex, wake up, Hon. We need to be at Joyce’s in less than an hour and your breakfast is ready.”

He jerks and his eyes open. There is obvious fear in them until he realizes it is me. He grasps at me and pulls me into a fierce bear-hug. I fight my tears and just hug him back until I feel his heartbeat return to a more normal rate. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and says, “Sorry, Momma. I…”

I put my finger on his lips and ask, “Bad dreams but you can’t remember them?”

He nods. He never can remember what they are, but they really bother him. April’s hypothesis is that he is rehashing what his father did to him—maybe he is also fighting Lexi wanting to come back ‘out’; again, because of what his father did to him.

I say, “We’ll figure it out, Hon. I really think that doing everything to help with your demons at school will also help with your dragons at home.”

He smiles wanly and says, “Don’t count on it, Momma. But…I hope you’re right.”

ALEX
I snap to attention in abject terror! My eyes snap open expecting Daddy’s foot to be coming down on my head! I see…Momma and pull her into a hug while my heartrate comes back down to normal. Along with my slowing heartbeat, the memory of the nightmare fades and I cannot remember anything that I had dreamt about last night. I can remember that it was terrifying, but it eludes me as to what it was that scared me so.

Momma tries to placate me and I pretend like it works then get up after she kisses me on the head. I say, “I will be right there, Momma.”

I splash some water on my face and go to my closet. I groan when I realize that all of my old clothes are gone. All that is left are the new clothes from our shopping spree, yesterday. Momma must have come in after I was asleep last night and removed my old things. I pull on a pair of my new shorts and a polo and skulk into the kitchen. I whine, “Momma, where are my comfy clothes? It’s the weekend!”

She shakes her head and admonishes me, “It’s the new you—all around. Now eat up. You have a nice egg-white omelet and turkey bacon. You’re still a bit young for black coffee, but I did add a bit to your milk.”

I grin. The breakfast sounds horrible, but I have been begging her for weeks to let me try some coffee. I am a teenager, after all!

I take a big swig of the light tan mixture—mostly milk with just a splash of coffee—and almost spit it out. Talk about bitter! I shriek, “Momma! Can I have some sugar? Sweetener? Something?”

She giggles and shakes her head. In a dead-serious tone, though, she says, “No, if you’re big enough to drink it, then you are big enough to handle it the way it was meant to be consumed. I won’t have you getting hooked on those calorie-laden, sickly sweet ‘coffees’. You see how I drink it, right? Coffee is meant to be enjoyed strong and black—nothing polluting it. Now eat up and let’s go.”

I choke down the omelet and bacon that isn’t terrible, but not what I would have chosen—the thought of a nice sticky bun or sweet cinnamon roll makes my mouth water. After taking the last bite, I wash it all down with a shudder.

I quickly brush my teeth and we are on our way to get my hair cut. To be honest, it is about shoulder-length and a total mess. I could not even get a brush through it after my last shower. I usually just put it in a low ponytail and forget about it. I guess maybe it is time to get it taken care of. Maybe I should just go for a simple, care-free buzz cut!

JOYCE
I finish up Gwen’s hair and usher her out the door. It is almost time for Lexi—I mean Alex—to show up for her—I mean his—appointment. I am not sure how this is going to work. I know Maddie wants me to keep it as feminine as I can get away with, since she is still expecting Lexi to ‘come back out’, but I am just not sure how…Alex…is going to react to what I may wind up with. Maybe something more unisex that is easily styled in a feminine way… Or something feminine that I can style more in a boyish way.

My reverie is broken when Maddie and Alex enter. I have not seen…him…since his coma and I can hardly believe my eyes. He must have gained 50 pounds and while dressed nicely it looks like he otherwise just does not care about his appearance at all.

I greet them both, “Maddie, it’s great to see you! And, Alex, it has been quite a while since you were in my shop! My, your hair has gotten into quite the mess! We need to fix that right away.”

I look at him and wonder if he is OK. He is just standing in the doorway looking around with a funny look on his face.

ALEX
I am caught off-guard when I enter the salon. I have this creepy feeling that I have been here before. Then when Joyce indicates that I actually have been, I get the shivers. I have a hard time finding my voice, but finally get out, “I…I…I’ve been here before…” It is not quite a question, but certainly not a statement. I have no idea if it is a fact.

Momma comes over and hugs me. She nods and says, “Yes, Hon. You used to come here every other week before your coma. You had just decided to let your hair start growing out a short time before your father attacked you. I haven’t pushed you into coming since you didn’t say anything and I think, whether you remember it or not, subconsciously, that is still what you want. Joyce is just going to get it shaped up and looking nice instead of like a rat’s nest.”

I still have this weird feeling of almost remembering the place, but…not. Very similar to my dreams and nightmares—the memories are just out of reach.

Joyce says, “Why don’t you come sit down, Alex, and let me see what we have to work with?”

I nod and slowly go to her chair. I start to say I just want it buzzed off when Momma adds, “Yes, please see if you can save the length. It’s been growing for close to two years now and it would be a shame to have to cut any off.”

I jump in and say, “Maybe it would be better to buzz it all off…”

Joyce cuts me off, “Nonsense! I’m sure we can salvage this mess. It’s just going to take some work. I can’t guarantee pulling out some of the tangles won’t hurt a little, though!”

I groan and Momma and Joyce giggle. Momma says, “It will be a good lesson to keep it untangled to begin with.”

I do not even bring up the fact that is not what I was groaning about—at least not yet.

Joyce reaches down and pulls off the band that is holding my hair in a low ponytail and makes ‘tsk-ing’ sounds as she fingers through it the best she can. She finally says, “Well, there are lot of split ends, so we will have to cut a little off the length; not too much though. I will show you how to take better care of it with good products to prevent them from splitting so bad. It will also help with the tangles. Let’s start with a good washing.”

She leads me over to the sink and has me sit in the chair before lowering the back. My neck nestles into the little nook made for it in the sink and Joyce wets my hair with nice warm water before adding a lot of shampoo and working it in. Fact one, I really like someone washing my hair. She massages my scalp as she continues to work in the suds and finally rinses it out. Fact two, she can keep doing this all day! She repeats the whole procedure, then adds a handful of conditioner to my wet hair. She spends a lot of time working it in to the strands, then rinses everything again. Fact three, I don’t want her to quit! She then leads me back to the other chair and starts combing out the tangles.

“Ouch,” I exclaim when she tugs hard on the first tangle. Fact four, that hurt! That is only the first of many expletives.

MADDIE
I sit in the waiting area and watch Joyce pull the tangles out of Alex’s hair. With it washed and conditioned, it reaches about three inches past his shoulders and down his back. It is straight as an arrow and starting to take on its old healthy, deep-red, coppery sheen from the deep conditioning. His hair had become so dull that it looked more like a muddy red than the deep red it is supposed to be. With it taking on a healthier sheen again, I am again struck by its stunning contrast to his emerald-green eyes.

I cannot help but think back to his reaction coming into the salon. It was like he almost remembered. Lexi came in every two weeks to have her hair conditioned and shaped as it slowly grew out. On occasion, I would splurge and we would get mani-pedis. We did that more often at home as a mother-daughter activity, though. She did spend a significant amount of her pre-coma Thursday afternoons here, so it is encouraging that it seemed to spark some sort of recognition—even if just for a split second. I will have to let April know.

I watch Alex and Joyce simultaneously sigh in relief as she is able to pull her comb through completely unhindered for the first time. She continues combing for several more minutes and then picks up her scissors. She cuts the tiniest amount off the ends and checks them. She repeats this process several times until she is sure that she is back to healthy hair. Overall, she only had to cut off a little less than half an inch to get back to a healthy and even state.

ALEX
I watch as she cuts little chunks off the ends and checks them until she seems satisfied. Fact one, there is no way I am letting it get tangled again. Fact two, I cannot believe how long my hair actually is with it washed and combed out this way. Something is tickling the back of my mind that seems like an impossible fact, that I did want it this way. Something about the sheen and how it frames my face. I mentally shake my head to clear it and pull myself back to paying attention to what she is doing.

She runs the strands through her fingers and holds up sections. She walks around and looks at me from different directions and angles. Finally, she says, “OK, I have a plan. It is a cutting-edge look for a boy but it will maintain the length and give you a lot of styling options—including your favorite ponytail.”

Momma nods and says, “That sounds great, Joyce. Don’t you agree, Alex?”

I look at them both in the mirror and give them the facts, “It’s really hard to say, Momma. The fact is that I haven’t seen it yet.”

Joyce laughs and says, “You will love it, I promise. I will even put it back in a ponytail for you when I’m done.”

She takes her scissors and makes this asymmetrical cut across the front of my face holding the razor-sharp blades open like a ‘V’. I suddenly have long bangs—longer on the left side than the right. Before I can blink, she pulls up a large section of my hair and clips it up, makes a quick sweeping cut with her ‘V’ed scissors, rapidly lets a little of the hair out of the clips, sweeps a cut, and repeats this several times. When she is done, my hair feels a lot lighter and has a layered look to it. She steps back, makes an additional cut here and there and finally says, “OK, back to the sink and let’s wash it out and put in some leave-in conditioner to combat your long-term neglect.”

I am speechless. Fact one, it took her nearly an hour to get the tangles out and decide what to do. Amazing fact two, it took her less than five minutes to cut it. Absolute fact three, I already hate the long bangs getting in my eyes.

JOYCE
I struggle with what to do. At this point, all I can think of is Lexi dreaming of the layered style she told me about every time she was in here for weeks on end. Giving Alex that cut would be bold. It is not an unheard of cut for straight boys/men, but certainly…rare. The fact that Alex seemed to remember coming in here only firms up my resolve not to mess it up for Lexi. I can always cut it more later.

I make quick work of the layered style, with a promise to put it in a ponytail when I am done. Of course, it will have to be a higher one than he is used to because of the way it is layered. Well, and the bangs will give him some fits. He may have to learn the benefits of clips, barrettes, or headbands.

I take him back to the sink, I think in a bit of shock, and wash his hair again. Then I put in some professional-strength leave-in conditioner. It soaks right in and nearly begs for more.

I take him back to the chair and quickly blow his hair dry using a big round brush to give it volume, then pull it back into a tight ponytail. It is slightly lower than most girls would wear, but quite a bit higher than his old one. I finger his bangs away from his eyes and show him that the left ones are actually long enough to tuck behind his left ear, leaving the right ones cascading down his forehead. A bit of gel helps hold it in place. It is the exact look that Lexi always dreamed about. Tucking them back will give him an unmistakable feminine ‘quirk’, but again, all I can think of is Lexi…

I give it a final once-over. The conditioner has done wonders on his hair and it is light and nearly fly-away fine. It has a deep-red, coppery sheen that contrasts beautifully with his emerald-green eyes. If I did not know better, I would swear that his facial features are much more feminine than I remember. It is interesting what a year of not seeing him has evolved into. He is going to be stunning when he matures a bit more.

“OK, Alex,” I smile, “there you go. It’s on its way to becoming much healthier now and it’s back in its ponytail. You will have to wear it a bit higher and tighter than you are used to because of the layering, but I think it looks very nice on you. I will give you some professional products, shampoo and conditioners, to take home. Your Momma can show you how to use them. I expect you to take better care of that beautiful hair you have, OK? No more tangles!”

MADDIE
I almost cry when I see my baby with the look that Lexi had so long dreamed of and now cannot enjoy. With a much healthier sheen and its deep-red color, the striking cut of his hair wonderfully frames his face and brings out the green in his eyes. I did not ask Joyce to go with that cut and wonder why she decided to do so. I will have to ask her later.

I snap out of it when Joyce admonishes him to take better care of it going forward. “Oh, you will, right, Alex,” I ask in that Mom-tone that allows for no argument. “I will give him lessons on how to use the products and how to do daily brushings. A hundred strokes with a soft-bristled brush will keep it in shape and tangle-free. Don’t you worry, Joyce, when we come back in what, two weeks?” Joyce nods and I continue, “In two weeks, it will be in even better shape.”

I can tell he wants to argue but he does not even let out a groan. I smile sweetly at him and lead him to the counter where Joyce gives us a bag with the same products she just used on him and that I still have almost full bottles of at home in the “guest bathroom” from when Lexi was using it. I do not mention that, though, and pay. Joyce puts Alex down for an appointment in two weeks at his old Thursday time and we go out to the car to head home.

Just as I get ready to start the car, my phone beeps to signal I got a text. I check it quickly and smile. I look at Alex and nearly drop the phone when I see him push his hair behind his ear like I would have expected Lexi to do. I bite my lip and say, “That was April. It is such a beautiful day that Jewel is going for a nice run and would like you to go along. I just so happen to have a gym bag with your workout clothes in the trunk, so we’ll take a detour over there!”

This time he does groan as he pushes his hair behind his ear again.

ALEX
I pull down the sun visor and slide open the little door over the mirror. The surrounding LED light comes on as I look at myself and I am still stunned by the way I look with my hair like this. I swivel my head back and forth and take in the details of the ponytail. It is higher and much tighter than I am used to and little loose stray strands of hair tickle my neck as it bounces around. I will have to experiment to see how low and loose I can get it but fact one is that I am afraid this may be the best I can get or Joyce would not have done it this way. Fact two, this long section of my bangs is very frustrating and will not stay behind my ear. Frustrated, I push it behind my ear, again. Hypothesis one, it may be better to ask her to cut the bangs straight and out of my eyes. Hypothesis two, that would likely look dorky.

I don’t say anything about going to Dr. Quack’s for ‘my’ run. I know it will not do any good to argue with Momma about it. My only chance is to reason with this ‘Jewel’ and hope that she will see the truth. The fact is that I am very likely to have a heart attack if I go out running.

Momma weaves through the still light early Saturday morning traffic and into a nice subdivision not too far from where we live. I have this odd feeling that I have been here before. I start to ask Momma if we had maybe looked at houses here once, or something, when she pulls the car into a driveway that leads up to a nice house. That crazy feeling of deja-vu hits me again with a quick flash of something intangible and tantalizingly close to the surface of my conscious memories.

Momma gets out of the car and goes around to the trunk. I slowly get out of the car and walk around the path to the back door in a sort of daze. Without knocking or thinking, I open the door and enter the kitchen. Apri… Dr. Smythe is standing there with a surprised look on her face and says, “Well, hello, Alex. Welcome. JuJu is looking forward to running with you.”

I feel one of my headaches coming on. That fact alone lets me know something stressful is going on in my head. That is when they come on the worst. I have another one of those ‘feelings’ that I know this place—that I have been here before. But I have no conscious memory of it whatsoever. I look at April and whisper in a confused tone, “Up the stairs and third door on the left.”

She gets a shocked look on her face and says in a soothing voice, “That’s right, Alex. Do you remember having been here before?”

I shake my head. It is hurting more and more and the motion makes it worse. The fact is I feel like I am going to throw up—or pass out, one. I start to see black specks in front of my eyes. At that moment, Momma comes storming through the door and exclaims, “Alexander James Jorden! You don’t just…” She stops mid-sentence when she sees April reach out to stop me from collapsing on the floor. She hurries over and helps her get me to a chair and asks, “What is going on? Alex, are you OK?”

April goes to the refrigerator and gets a Dr. Pepper out and opens it. She says, “I know you want him to drink diet ones, but I think his blood sugar is low and this certainly has enough sugar in it for an army!” She pours some in a glass and holds it to my lips. I feel weak, dizzy, and light-headed. My head is pounding and I can hardly focus. I take a sip of the Nectar of the Gods and it tastes good—I focus on the taste and take another sip. My head starts to clear as I sit there and sip the sugary-sweet drink. After a few minutes, my headache starts to lessen and Momma and Apr…Dr. Quack are still looking at me with the concern clearly outlined on their faces.

I take a deep breath and say, “I’m feeling better. I still have a slight headache, but it’s going away.”

Momma sighs and asks, “What were you thinking just barging in here?”

Dr. Quack interjects, “Alex remembered where Jewel’s room is.”

Momma gasps and looks at me, “Is that true, Alex? You remember having been here before? Like at the salon? You remember JuJ…Jewel?”

I shake my head and relish that it does not pound in a sickening manner. I still do not understand what just happened and explain, “No, I don’t remember anything. It is more like a feeling, like a dream or something, where I just know the answer. It’s all frustrating with this intangible feeling of something lurking just below the surface of my consciousness. But…wait! Let me get this straight. Fact one, Apr…Dr. Smythe insinuated that I had been here before. Fact two, you did the same just now. Fact three, in addition, you just insinuated that I know this Jewel. Is that true? Have I been here before? Do I know Jewel, Momma?”

Momma opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Dr. Quack has her finger pressed against her mouth in thought and does not respond. I swivel my head as I hear a somehow familiar girl’s voice from behind me say, “Hello, Alex. It’s really nice to see you again. You, too, Maddie. It’s been a long time.”