Back home, I enjoyed the brunch doughnut as I read my latest thriller. Luckily, Will wasn’t there to witness. After my next smoke, I called him inside. I sat down, cloaked in a towel, while Will mixed the bottles and squeezed the product over my hair. His fingers bit roughly into my scalp. I decided to disregard the instructions on the pack. Surely, the longer I left the dye on, the blonder I would become? Sure enough, my hair was getting lighter, and lighter, until it took on a marmalade hue and I hastily washed it. I was mortified when I got out of the shower. My hair was bright orange! Meekly, I showed Will, who was now watching T.V. He swore. “There’s no way you’re leaving the house looking like that! Now I’m going to have to pick up the boys myself and take Mikhail to school tomorrow.” A silver lining. “When will you be able to fix my hair?” “Tomorrow.” “There’s one more thing, Will.” “What now?” “Nathaniel broke the eggs this morning, so I’ll need you to pick up Maccas for their tea.” Will swore again, then resumed watching T.V. sitting on the floor, hunched over. I crept back to bed, not caring if my wet fiery hair stained the pillowslip. Normally, I never slept during the day, but the next thing I knew, the boys were home. I rose to greet them. “Mummy’s got orange hair!” Nathaniel shouted. Mikhail merely looked horrified. “How about we glue some pictures in your scrapbooks?” I said brightly. Having no glue, I mixed up a paste with flour and water. Nathaniel seized on the activity, his chubby little hands making an unholy mess. Mikhail lackadaisically swiped the paste on the wrong side of the picture of a dog. He wasn’t into art and crafts. I was worried about him. Although he’d never been a big talker, he had lost speech since being medicated. Also, his imaginary friends, which he’d had since the age of two, had disappeared. Bug, Bear, Otch, Gobby and Rock and Roll Joe.
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