Chap­ter 9 begins the evening before my trip to New Hamp­shire, with a vis­it to Super­cuts for a quick trim, where I meet Vicky, a styl­ist with whom I’ve devel­oped a close rap­port over the years. Vicky has become more than just my styl­ist; she’s some­one I look for­ward to see­ing dur­ing each vis­it. Her skill with my short hair is matched only by her abil­i­ty to keep the con­ver­sa­tion flow­ing, mak­ing each appoint­ment feel like a pleas­ant break in my rou­tine. Vicky, though close to my age, has a youth­ful appear­ance, with long, dark hair and a radi­ant smile that imme­di­ate­ly lifts the atmos­phere in the salon. She is a pas­sion­ate read­er, par­tic­u­lar­ly of his­tor­i­cal romance nov­els, and we often exchange thoughts on the Tudors and Vikings, as she always brings a new book to each appoint­ment. Her enthu­si­asm for her lit­er­ary inter­ests adds a refresh­ing depth to our con­ver­sa­tions.

Vicky’s life expe­ri­ences are evi­dent in the per­son­al touch­es she has added to her work­sta­tion, most notably the pho­tos of her chil­dren dis­played on the mir­ror. She has been mar­ried and divorced twice, and these pho­tos serve as a tes­ta­ment to her jour­ney as a moth­er. Her son, Todd, now lives in Brook­lyn and works for the Wall Street Jour­nal, while her daugh­ter, Janet, trag­i­cal­ly passed away two years ago from a drug over­dose. Despite this heart­break­ing loss, Vicky keeps Janet’s mem­o­ry alive by promi­nent­ly dis­play­ing her pic­tures, cel­e­brat­ing mile­stones from her life, and reflect­ing on the deep bond they shared. The pres­ence of Janet in the pho­tos is bit­ter­sweet, as Vicky con­tin­ues to car­ry her daughter’s mem­o­ry with her, a reminder of both the love they shared and the pain of los­ing her far too soon.

In the past few weeks, I’ve found myself con­fid­ing in Vicky about my com­pli­cat­ed rela­tion­ship with Mag­gie, our sur­pris­ing rec­on­cil­i­a­tion, and the upcom­ing wed­ding. Vicky, always atten­tive and empa­thet­ic, lis­tens close­ly and asks insight­ful ques­tions, mak­ing me reflect on the deep­er emo­tions sur­round­ing the sit­u­a­tion. Dur­ing one of our con­ver­sa­tions, I even con­sid­ered the idea of invit­ing her to the wed­ding, appre­ci­at­ing her sup­port and friend­ship. How­ev­er, I quick­ly dis­missed the thought, as our rela­tion­ship has always been lim­it­ed to the pro­fes­sion­al sphere, with no real social con­nec­tion out­side the salon. While the idea felt tempt­ing, I wasn’t sure if it was appro­pri­ate or if it would cross the line between our pro­fes­sion­al and per­son­al bound­aries.

Lat­er that evening, Vicky ded­i­cat­ed extra time to my hair­cut, want­i­ng to ensure every­thing was per­fect before my trip. She even treat­ed me to a hot tow­el treat­ment, which was both sooth­ing and indul­gent, mak­ing me feel com­plete­ly relaxed. At the end of the appoint­ment, Vicky sur­prised me by telling me that the ser­vice would be free of charge, pre­sent­ing it as a wed­ding gift. Her ges­ture, though sim­ple, felt incred­i­bly gen­er­ous and kind, leav­ing me feel­ing deeply appre­ci­at­ed. As I left the salon, I noticed two teenage girls skate­board­ing out­side a near­by Chipo­tle, and the thought crossed my mind that it might be fun to invite Vicky to join me in New Hamp­shire for the week­end. It was a spon­ta­neous idea, dri­ven by the excite­ment of the trip and the poten­tial for new expe­ri­ences, which made the notion of invit­ing her feel like the right thing to do.

The next day, I found myself return­ing to the salon, unsure of what to expect. To my sur­prise, Vicky was still there, work­ing with a young boy in her chair. See­ing me come back in, I decid­ed to act on the idea that had come to me the night before and sug­gest­ed that she accom­pa­ny me to New Hamp­shire for the wed­ding. Vicky’s response was both warm and apolo­getic, explain­ing that she had pri­or com­mit­ments and could not leave her col­leagues behind dur­ing such a busy time at the salon. While her answer was dis­ap­point­ing, she offered to catch up after my trip for lunch, express­ing an inter­est in hear­ing all about the wed­ding. She hand­ed me her busi­ness card as a friend­ly reminder, press­ing it into my hand with a smile.

Although I already had sev­er­al of her cards, this ges­ture felt mean­ing­ful and reas­sur­ing. It was a sim­ple reminder that our con­nec­tion extend­ed beyond just the salon. I promised her that I would call once I returned from New Hamp­shire, grate­ful for her kind­ness and the sense of com­pan­ion­ship she had offered dur­ing our con­ver­sa­tions. As I left the salon, I felt a renewed sense of grat­i­tude for the peo­ple in my life who have shown me sup­port and under­stand­ing, no mat­ter how big or small the ges­ture. The exchange with Vicky, though brief, empha­sized the impor­tance of build­ing con­nec­tions, espe­cial­ly in times of uncer­tain­ty. It remind­ed me that some­times, even the small­est ges­tures can make a big dif­fer­ence in how we nav­i­gate life’s chal­lenges.