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We wanted to let her know what happened. Have you spoken with her?”
    “No, not since she drove me to the bus station in Louisville to come here,” I answered.
    “Maybe you wrote the wrong number on your emergency contact form.”
    “Doubtful, but I’d have to see it to be sure. I have her number programmed into my cell though.”
    “Where’s your cell?”
    “Back at my cottage.”
    “Okay,” he said, “I'm gonna fetch it and bring it to you this evening, okay? You need to let your mom know where you are and that you're okay.”
    “Sure, okay, Ray.”
    Boy, he did not know my mom; that was certain.
    Ray?” I said, letting my curiosity get the best of me.
    “Yes, darlin’?”
    “You know there are rumors floating around the place about Trey and some scandal with his former fiancée. I wondered—”
    “Damn gossip,” Ray interrupted, frowning. “Ty, that's all it is. I don’t know the particulars of what you’ve heard; all I know is that Trey's someone that I trust completely."
    Denise came bouncing back into my hospital room at that moment, smiling and carrying some type of cosmetic case.
    “Good news for you, girlie,” she said with a broad smile. “I'm cleared to help you with a shower. We’ll get your hair washed and conditioned, and who knows, maybe add a pinch of my magic dust to it to give you a bit of a new look, that’s if you’re game and trust me with it.”
    “Oh my God yes, Denise!” I laughed. “Please make me look better!”
    “Great!” she chirped. “Okay, Ray outta here, baby. We girls have some magic to work. I'll call you later to pick me up. And let Jenna in Ty's cottage to get her some proper sleepwear and bring it with you when you come back, darlin'."
    “Yes, dear” he replied, trying his best to sound like the over-burdened boyfriend.
    The shower felt exquisite. I lathered my hair with shampoo, twice, then rinsed and conditioned. Once I’d toweled off, Denise had me sit on the bedside chair while she combed out my wet locks. “Now, I’m going to spray on a little detangler here, hun,” she explained. "And I gotta ask, are you particularly fond of wearing your hair this long?" she asked me, wrinkling her nose slightly.
    “Why?” I asked, eying her a bit suspiciously, noting she wasn't fond of my current hairstyle.
    My thoughts strayed back to my freshman year of high school, two days before class pictures were being taken. Mom decided that my hair needed a bit of a trim before picture day. My hair fell to my shoulders and I loved the way it swung softly about.
    “Just an inch or so, Ty,” Mom prods. “Just let me get the split ends off. It will lay better and look much healthier for your pictures. If I’m paying for those pictures then you can damn well make sure you look your best in them, hear?”
    An hour later, I look at the pile of hair laying on the bathroom floor in shock. I grab the hand mirror off the vanity. I see the look of horror that appears on my face as I see my own reflection. My hair is in a short, butch cut. My mom's beside me, watching my reaction. I turn and face her incredulously.
    “Now don’t blame me!” she says, holding her hands up defensively. “You got that funny shaped head and it makes it hard when I’m trying to even up both sides of it. Had to keep taking more off so I could get it evened up, but I think it’s cute. You ought to see the back. I think they call this a bob.”
    When she sees I’m not buying it she gets more flustered with me. “It’s just hair, dammit! It’s not like it won’t grow back. I swear, I try and do something nice for my girl and do you think she appreciates it? Hell no - no way!"
    “I’m sorry, I’m sure once I wash and style it myself it will be fine. I'm sorry, Mom."
    “Hello? Earth to Tylar?” It was Denise’s voice bringing me back to the present. “How about it? I've a really cute cut in mind. I’ll mostly just put it in long layers to frame around that beautiful face of yours.