Coda 01 - Promises

exactly that was enough to make my pulse speed up a little. But it was apparently what he needed to hear, because he relaxed the rest of the way with a sigh. “Anyway, no self-respecting Coloradoan would date a Chiefs fan.” That made him laugh, and after that, we were back on safe ground. The conversation seemed to be forgotten.
    L IZZY called me first thing in the morning. “Well? What happened?”
    “He’s straight.”
“Oh.” She sounded as disappointed as I was. “Are you sure?” “He was pretty adamant about it.”
“Oh, Jared,” she said sincerely. “I’m so sorry!”
    “Lizzy, it’s okay. Really. I barely know the guy. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything.”

    “I know, but you were so happy last night. I just want you to be happy.”

    “I know, Lizzy. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t hoping. But he’s straight, and I guess that’s the end of it. I think I’ll live.”
“G ET a haircut already, you friggin’ bum!” Lizzy was harassing me
    about my hair again. It was one of her favorite topics. “Really, Jarhead, whatever that look is, it’s out.”
    I’m not a Marine. Lizzy finds it amusing to call me “Jarhead” instead of Jared any time she thinks I’m being particularly obtuse. Which is often.
    The length of my hair is one of her favorite things to razz me about. The truth is that haircuts present something of a problem for me. There are only two places in Coda to get a haircut. There’s Gerri’s Barber Shop, where most of the men in town go. But Gerri is old school, one of the few people in town who treat me like I’m a pariah, so I can’t go there. Then there’s Sally’s, the beauty salon that most of the women go to. I had been there a couple of times, but it was miserable. The girls seemed to think that me being gay meant that I wanted to gossip with them about who was sleeping with whom or debate the merits of Brad Pitt over Johnny Depp (neither is exactly my type). Once, I let Lizzy cut it, but that was a disaster that neither of us wanted to repeat.
    My dark blonde hair is thick and coarse and naturally curly. If it’s too short, I end up with curls sticking out every which way. But, if I let it grow, the curls at least hang down. I could have shaved it, but that seemed like too much maintenance. So what I end up with is a wild mass of curls. Even I have to admit that it bears more than a passing resemblance to an old-fashioned mop. I try to tie it back when we’re at the shop; if I pull the curls straight, it’s just barely long enough to reach the rubber band. But by the end of the day, half of it will have escaped.
    “Lizzy, I like being shaggy. This way you and I match, see?”
    Her hair is about the same color as mine but longer, and her curls are more like soft waves. She flipped it over her shoulder and gave me the finger and then turned to Ringo.
    “Ringo, tell Jared he needs a haircut!”
    Ringo looked up in alarm from his schoolwork on the counter. Lizzy let him work on homework as long as we didn’t have customers. “What? Are you talking to me?”
    She rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Honestly! Nobody listens to me. What’s got you so perplexed over there?”
    “Advanced algebra.” He threw his pencil down on his book and pushed his hair back off of his face with both hands. “How can anybody do this stuff?”
    “You’ll figure it out,” Lizzy assured him.
    “How? I don’t understand any of it. My teacher just follows the book. My parents can’t help me. Nobody can explain it to me in a way that makes sense.” He picked his pencil back up and put his head in his hand as he bent back to his task. “I hate it!”
    “Jared can help you.”
    “What?” Ringo and I exclaimed in unison. I was horrified that she would suggest it, and he obviously was, too, judging by the look on his face.
    “Jared’s really good at math. He’s supposed to be a physics teacher, aren’t you?” She gave me a piercing gaze, which I turned away from. “Maybe he can tutor you.”
“Maybe.” Ringo looked pretty skeptical. I didn’t say anything.
    Lizzy left shortly afterward since she had opened the shop that day. We didn’t have many customers that afternoon, and Ringo spent most of his time trying to puzzle out his math problems. There was a lot of erasing going on, and I could tell he was getting frustrated. Every once in a while, he would glance up at me, and I knew he was debating whether or not to ask for help. I ignored