Helga
Stella leaves my store with her new wig and the set of combs I gave her. She is smiling and singing to herself, which is very different from the way she left last night.
Hair is power. In my many years of making wigs, I have been reminded of this fact again and again. When I took Stella’s hair last night, I took her power. But now she has taken it back.
This was not how I wanted it to go. Not at all.
The sound of the rotary phone ringing echoes through my store. My daughter Angela is always begging me to buy one of those cellular phones, but I do not trust those strange things. I will use a rotary phone until the day I die.
When I pick up the receiver, Angela’s sweet voice is on the other line. She is the light of my life—my reason for waking up every morning. And now that my Sven is gone, she is the only one who calls me.
“Merry Christmas, Mom!” she chirps. She sounds the happiest I have heard her in many weeks.
It won’t last.
“Merry Christmas, my Angela,” I choke out.
“I can’t believe you’re open on Christmas,” she laughs. Her laughter has always reminded me of bells ringing. My precious daughter is everything to me, and so is her happiness.
“Well,” I say, “there was business to be done.” “You work too hard, Mom.”
I have to work hard. After Sven died of a heart attack, I had to support myself and Angela all on my own. But Angela turned out very well. She is the first in our family to go to college, and after that, she went to law school. She is in her second year now. I am so proud.
But it has not been smooth sailing. Last year, my Angela met a man. She fell instantly in love with this man, who turned out to be married. You don’t know what it’s like to meet the man of your dreams, then meet his beautiful wife, she sobbed to me.
I told Angela this was silliness. She is a beautiful girl. She can find a man who is not married and cheating on his wife. She said she has fallen in love, but I tell her to fall out of love.
But then a few weeks ago, she told me something different. She told me she has the child of this married man growing inside her.
After that, it was no longer silliness. This man who was the father of my grandchild would have to marry my daughter. And I would have to make it happen because I would do anything for Angela.
That is how I decided to find Stella.
It was very easy. I camped out outside their apartment building and followed her to the diner where she works. I realized she is not so beautiful after all. It was all her hair. Her beautiful hair—the source of her power over her husband.
I waited for the right moment. Angela told me all about Justin’s precious pocket watch. I am very good at manipulating people. And Stella was remarkably easy to manipulate.
Hair is power. In the Bible, the source of Samson’s strength was his hair, and when the beautiful Delilah tricked him and cut it off, she stripped him of his power. Similarly, I was certain that if I could take Stella’s hair, I could take her power.
My hands are riddled with arthritis, and I haven’t made a wig in years, but I would make one last wig. Out of Stella’s hair, so I could give it to my daughter to ensure that her child—my first grandchild—would have a father.
But as I run my finger over the smear of red on the pocket watch, I fear it is too late.
“So, Mom,” Angela says, “I have some amazing news.” I perk up. “Yes?”
“Yes.” She takes a deep breath. “I called Justin yesterday and told him all about the baby. He told me he wants to raise the baby with me, and after the holidays, he’s going to tell his wife that it’s all over.”
“He… he is?”
“Yes! He says he doesn’t want to spoil their Christmas, so he’s going to tell her tomorrow. He’s already got a bag packed, and he’s going to move out.” I can hear her smiling, even through the phone. “I was trying to call you to tell you yesterday, but you weren’t answering. This is why you need to get a cell phone, Mom!”
I drop the pocket watch on the desk. Some of the red material has rubbed off on my fingers.
“This is all I ever wanted,” Angela sighs. “Sometimes Christmas wishes really do come true.”
My daughter seems so happy. I cannot tell her the truth.
After we hang up, I walk over to the shelf near the entrance. I gently stroke the skull that I keep there at all times, tracing the cheekbones with my fingertip. Even though it is with the other items for sale, there is no price tag on the skull. It is not for sale.
“What have I done, Sven?” I wail. “I only wanted to help our daughter.”
But of course, he has no answer for me. He never does—not anymore.
Angela will eventually discover the truth, but not today. Today, she will enjoy the holiday and continue to make plans for her unborn child. As for me, I walk over to the door of Helga’s Attic and turn the lock. I will close the store for the rest of the day. It is, after all, Christmas Day.
