I hadn’t known he was in a hurry
until he was
behind me in my room,
glaring back at me in the full-length mirror.
I’ve been waiting, he said.
Kelly-Anne loitered on the landing.
Is it cold out?
Are either of you taking coats?
She was wearing a new dress.
Dad ignored her.
Nearly ready, I said,
running a brush through my hair
to the ends,
tying it up high on to my head.
Are you taking a coat? Kelly-Anne asked again.
She was in the room now next to Dad.
He stormed out.
She made a face.
Dad returned
with a pair of scissors,
and before I could jerk my head from him
he had hold
of my ponytail
and was cutting it,
cutting it,
cutting it,
until he was holding the whole length of my hair
in his hands.
Kelly-Anne gasped. Marcus!
Too long, he muttered.
I nodded.
But I didn’t know what was too long:
the amount of time I’d made him wait
or the length of hair
he’d just stolen from me.