She’s just cut her hair. The thick mane used to reach the small of her back. She was a hair model and blames it on a bad dye job. But the truth is women cut their hair in crisis and she was glad for change, the possibility of rebirth. Now when she tucks her chin in, you can see a woven scar at the base of her skull—a surgeon’s handiwork from seven years ago.
She chooses her men based on their problems. The more incapable they are the more attractive her challenge. People born in a crucible can be addicted to dysfunction. Friends wonder if she enjoys being torn down for the sheer satisfaction of building herself back up.
But when he hit her it felt like her head would split open at the seam. And when he cheated on her she thought with shame and embarrassment about staying. “You see,” she says, “nothing happens in a vacuum.”
Sometimes we lose our freedom. We roam around with our throats closed up. The sun is hard to look at because it reminds us of our own darkness. Our brains hiccup over and over the same events.
Everyone plays out their parents’ marriages or non-marriages. I’ve seen women drawn to men like their fathers—self-righteous, neglectful, or abusive. I’ve seen men push women away so as not to suffer the same pain as their mothers, and in the process, become their fathers.
The narrative flows ad infinitum.
Who will you refuse to forgive?
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