Melanie had a comb-over she was proud of. Her grandfather gave it to her. And she decided she was going to wear it to school.
Every Thursday afternoon she would visit her grandfather. She liked how he seemed to know about all the different kinds of birds and flowers. She liked his sweaters with two buttons down the front. She liked the pipe he smoked that smelled like burning cherries. And she liked how long he grew his hair and how he would sweep it over his head. The men in her life wore their hair so short they might as well have been bald. Not Grandpa Jasper. He fought the call of simple modernity and maintained a sense of animalistic purity.
Yes, Jasper was surprised when young Melanie asked if she could have his comb-over. But how could he say no? She was such an attentive girl. While all the other cousins played with dolls or with guns or both, she sat and listened to him tell stories about the world. Yes, he’d always assumed that she did not even know the word comb-over, but now that she said it, he was glad the word had been floated out there. Relieved even.
When he had first started balding, his ego was badly shaken. He was only in his twenties but looked in his forties. He styled his follicles one way and then another, a futile battle again the gentle eroding waves of time. He eventually settled on bold part that began on the side of his head and swept a tangle of hair over his dome. It fooled no one. And now that his hair had gone grey it fooled even less. Recently Jasper had contemplated a different look, but it felt best when he combed it that one way. The part in his hair was as comfortable as an old sock. All of this he explained to young Melanie.
It seemed strange for him to try and cut his own hair so he handed the scissors to Melanie. She squeezed her fingers around the scissors, studied his skull for a moment and then began to cut. She was as careful as she was quick. After handing her grandfather back the scissors she gathered the comb-over, which managed to more or less in one piece. Jasper watched as she reverently hot glued the hair to a couple barrettes. When the glue dried she put the comb-over over her own hair and looked in the mirror. Oh, won’t her classmates be jealous.
