(Author's Note: This story was inspired by dirty discussions I've had with my hairstylist friends and some of my male friends who've generously shared some of their more unusual erectile situations. I didn't ask my hairstylist friends to proofread this story. If there are any incorrect details or misused nomenclature, it is entirely on me.
This is a mother/son incest story.
The story, characters and situations are entirely fictional. Anything that appears contrary is coincidental. The fictional characters are over eighteen years old.
-D.R.)
***
Maggie Shelton sat in her Subaru Outback, listening to Fiona Apple's song "Paper Bag". She was parked in front of a salon called Peace of Hair. She had just arrived and was expecting to wait. She eased back into her seat, closed her eyes and enjoyed the music.
The passenger door opened and her son, Jonas, sat down and closed the door. Maggie was startled. She hadn't anticipated him for another fifteen minutes.
"We can go," said Jonas. He didn't make eye contact. He faced forward and his eyes were downcast.
"Honey?" said Maggie. "What did they do to your hair?"
Jonas's shaggy hair was only partially cut. It was lopsided and unbalanced, worse than when she had dropped him off.
A woman knocked on the passenger window. She was leaning over to look into the car. Her hair, dirty blonde with purple streaks, was tied up in a messy bun. She wore a black apron embroidered with the salon's name. The apron squeezed her sizable bosom. She was a young woman in her mid-twenties with handsome features. She looked angry.
Maggie rolled down the window.
"He's not allowed to come back," said the woman. "He's banned from the salon."
"Okay?" said Maggie, confused.
"I'm serious," she said. She looked at Jonas, who remained downcast. "Don't come back."
The woman marched back into the hair salon. Maggie rolled up the window.
"What did you do?" asked Maggie.
"Nothing."
"Honey, your hair looks even worse now. They only cut enough to fuck it up."
"I know, mom," said Jonas. "Can we just go?"
Maggie looked at her son. They were at an impasse. She shook her head and drove home.
***
Jonas had graduated from high school and the summer was almost over. He was weeks away from the start of fall semester at the local community college. Throughout high school he had refused to cut his long, shaggy, and unshaped hair.
Maggie was a hair stylist and took great pride in her work. She had taken Jonas's refusal to get his hair cut in stride for the past few years. Her son's messy hair seemed like a form of teenage rebellion or parental rejection. Maggie's hair was always perfect. Her older daughter, Rhiannon, was also obsessed with her hair.
Maggie felt his messy hair was holding him back. Jonas wasn't athletic, didn't surf or skateboard or play an instrument in a band. He couldn't justify his long hair as a countercultural statement or aesthetic. He was a cute young man, skinny with sharp angular features. As high school progressed, Jonas's hair became a growing issue. He was incapable of getting dates. He hadn't had a girlfriend. He had gone to school functions alone or with platonic friends. Maggie blamed his unkempt hair. Even more frustrating, Jonas had beautiful hair. It was a natural auburn that women paid hundreds of dollars to color match. It was rich, thick, healthy hair that naturally curled at its length. Allowing it to grow to his shoulders without any shaping or maintenance was an affront to her sensibilities as a stylist.
As college approached, Maggie confronted him and used her motherly authority to put an end to his reluctance. If he wanted her to pay for his schooling and to let him stay in the house rent free, he would have to start getting haircuts. He could have any style he wanted, but long hair was no longer an option.
Peace of Hair was the seventh hair salon that had banned Jonas in several weeks. Their options were diminishing. Every salon had refused to elaborate on their reasoning. They only offered angry glares.
After the second hair salon banned her son, Maggie had asked Jonas if he would try a barbershop. Jonas refused. Maggie accepted the answer, not wanting him to come home with a buzzcut or a silly fade.
Maggie had asked the owner of the salon she worked at, Hair Bitch, if they would make an exception and allow Jonas to get a haircut with one of their stylists.
The owner, Stephanie, responded by asking the crew out loud, "What's the salon's policy?"
The stylists all jeered in unison, "No men! No exceptions!"
They had all laughed while Maggie gritted her teeth.
The hunt for a hair salon continued.
***
Maggie and Jonas entered their home.
"So are you going to tell me what happened at Peace of Hair?" asked Maggie.
"Nothing happened," said Jonas.
"Come on, honey. Work with me," said Maggie. "I'm not dumb. Seven salons don't outright ban someone unless they've done something."
"Mom, I swear I didn't do anything," said Jonas.
"So it's all just a big misunderstanding?"
"I guess," said Jonas.
"I can respect your privacy," said Maggie. "And I understand how an eighteen year old doesn't want to confide in his mom. This is ridiculous, though."
"There's nothing to tell," said Jonas.
"Do you like our house? Do you like having money to go out with your friends? Are you excited for college? Do you know how we can afford this as a single parent household? Because a lot of women think I'm a great hairstylist. Yet my son gets kicked out of every hair salon in the city and all I have to show for it is his fucked up hair."
Jonas winced. "I'm sorry."
"I don't even know what you're apologizing for! No one's telling me anything! You know what hairstylists do? They gossip. If people start talking about whatever you're doing and my reputation suffers for it, do you think we'll be able to afford anything?"
"I don't know," he said. He was sullen. "I'm going to my room."
"First you're going to get a shower," said Maggie. "Clean off whatever hair they did cut. Then you can go to your room."
"Yes ma'am," said Jonas.
He slowly walked to the hallway towards the bathroom.
"Jonas?" called Maggie.
He stopped and looked back. "Yes mom?"
"I'm sorry for swearing so much," she said. "I just don't know what to do."
"I understand," he said. "I'm sorry too."
"Go get some rest. We'll figure this out some other time."
THE NEXT DAY
Jonas was reading a book in the living room when he heard his mother call for him in the kitchen. It was noon and he assumed she had made lunch.
He entered the kitchen and saw Maggie had laid an old bed sheet on the tile floor underneath a swiveling bar chair with back support and adjustable height. The full length mirror from her bedroom had been placed near the chair. Her burgundy hair was tied into a ponytail. She wore the black framed glasses she used while cutting hair, a short sleeve deep neck gray t-shirt and black denim skirt, showing off the many tattoos that adorned her pale skinny arms and legs. She wore a hair stylist apron with scissors and combs in the pockets, the strap tied loose so as not to squeeze her modest breasts. She wore comfortable laceless black Van sneakers. At thirty nine years old, she looked half her age in her cute casual clothes.
Jonas balked at the entrance of the kitchen. Maggie smiled.
