Harris and his handsome (horrible) haircut

Bang.

I heard somebody slammed the bathroom door, followed by another sound of the door being kicked. Aliff, my brother was outside the bathroom, right in front of the door. I had been lying flat in my room, my tiny little bed, reading a page from The Girl from the Coast.


I walked to the bathroom and looked straight into Aliff.


“What haircut did you give him?”


I asked, with my arms folder, feeling bigger than Aliff, who at 15 is 170cm tall and about 60kg, makes me feel frail all the time.


“I just gave him the haircut Dad asked me to.”


He answered, giving me the look that said, “What are you going to do about it?”


The night before, my father told Aliff to give my brothers Harris and Nabiel a haircut. Well, school’s going to start next week and my parents want the boys to be neat and tidy. Their hair looked like they were sick.

So, my father ordered Aliff to give them a crew cut.


“Shave ‘em bald,”


I heard my dad said the night before.

 So that was what Aliff did, or so he told me. Knowing Aliff, you can’t really trust him, because he’s a big bully in our family. For all you know he gave a hideous haircut to poor Harris. You know, something that probably resembles Ronaldo in 2005 World Cup.

 I knocked on the bathroom door.


“Harris, you ok?”


I asked, which was downright useless. I could do nothing to comfort a boy who just had an awful haircut. Nobody could, not even our own mother, so I left him alone and pulled Aliff away.


“Let him just stay in the bathroom waiting for the hair to grow back.”


Aliff whispered to me and gave a boisterous giggle. I nudged him, before disappearing in my chamber of secrets.


After a while I heard my mother called my name. She just came home; she was at a friend’s house helping with her daughter’s wedding preparation.


“Where are your brothers?”


She asked me. Right then it occurred to me that my job was to mind my brothers and not read The Girl from the Coast.


“Oh, and who’s in the bathroom?”


Then I gasped.


“Oh my God, mother!”


“What?”


“It’s Harris.”


I whispered and she grinned at me, as if saying, that’s nothing new, and sighed.


She knocked on the door and called Harris. All to no avail. We tried pushing the door. Not working, either.


Then, a couple of minutes later, Harris opened the door.


Bald.


“I looked like a brain patient.”

He said, and just then it reminded me of David Beckham. He used to spot a crew cut, too, right? And it was super cute.

 I tried telling that to Harris. Not even close.


“He’s David Beckham. He can make his hair looks like Dr Rozmey and still look cute.”



maybe not, Harry!



Harris said sulkily, before leaving to his room.



That night, like usual, mom sewing clothes and dad reading newspaper, I told Dad about what happened.

“How long did he lock himself in the bathroom?”

My mother asked. I bit my lips, thinking.

“Maybe about an hour.” I said.



Both my parents laughed.

“I wonder how many centimetres of his hair did grow in that one hour.”

Dad said, and we all laughed again. Oh dear, I love my family.



Well honestly I think Harris looks better now. He is, after all, the handsome boy in our family.



p/s: I don’t write crap in my blog. I mean, not all the time. I write stories. Of the people I love, so you’ll love them, too. One day when I’m 2 hours drive away from home, hungry, broke and missing them like crazy, I’ll just check in to this blog and smile. Love.