Dis-Tress

I was distraught and sensed myself to be in the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had no clue how to handle this situation. My heart was thumping loud, my palms sweaty, and my poor addled brain was sending distress signals in as many ways as it could. DD was screaming loudly and trying to kick herself free. Tears were streaming down her soft cheeks. My heart was almost breaking and I decided I couldn’t watch this anymore. I held DD close to myself, in an attempt to assure her that I am with her through this. That only made her more miserable – she looked at me with pleading eyes as if to ask me how I could be so unconcerned at her agony. Would she ever trust me again? A sudden thought came to my mind – I could pick her up and try to run away from this place now. It may not be easy, but I could try. And then I thought of the consequences – and I resigned myself to sitting here. Both DD and I had to live through this. There was no way out – no escape.

Ten minutes later, I got off the chair, holding my whimpering daughter close to my chest. My knees felt weak with relief. All this while, I was so angry with this man and now, when I looked at him, I felt sorry for him. The poor guy gave me a weak smile – he looked like he had been hit by a truck. For the amount of pressure that he had been subjected to, he had done an admirably good job. Small, soft, dark tresses lay scattered all around the chair and some of it was stuck on my clothes too. I felt too tired even to shake them off – I was so embarrassed now that I just wanted to get out. I quickly thanked the guy and walked off to the counter to pay the bill for my daughter’s first hair-cut.