Vanessa said, “That is not what I said.”
Caleb flinched.
Marcus saw.
The same reaction from the moment he entered.
A learned reaction.
Something inside him changed permanently.
He stood.
“Get dressed.”
Vanessa stared.
“What?”
“You’re leaving.”
Her face went white.
“This is my house.”
“It was mine before our marriage.”
“I am your wife.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re throwing me out based on a frightened child misunderstanding conversations?”
Marcus looked at the floor.
At Caleb’s curls.
Then at the boarding-school packet.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I’m asking you to leave because I need him to feel safe tonight.”
“He is safe.”
Caleb moved closer to Marcus.
That answered everything.
Vanessa saw it too.
Her face hardened.
“This is unbelievable.”
Marcus’s attention returned to the clippers.
They rested on the white marble vanity.
He picked them up.
Vanessa stared.
“What are you doing?”
Marcus pressed the switch.
The clippers buzzed.
Caleb looked up.
Vanessa’s expression changed.
“Marcus.”
He walked toward her.
She stepped backward.
“Do not.”
Marcus stopped inches away.
The clippers buzzed between them.
For one second anger told him to do exactly what the scene invited.
Take a section of her perfect blond hair.
Make her understand.
Let her feel the violation she had just dismissed.
Vanessa seemed to read it.
Her hand flew toward her hair.
“No.”
Marcus stared.
Then switched the clippers off.
The room became quiet.
He placed them on the counter.
“No.”
Vanessa breathed.
Marcus looked at her.
“That’s the difference.”
She stared.
“What?”
“I wanted you to understand what it feels like.”
He pointed toward the machine.
“And for one second I thought doing it back would teach you.”
His face tightened.
“It wouldn’t.”
Caleb watched him.
Marcus continued.
“It would teach him.”
Vanessa looked toward the child.
“That adults get to touch your body when they’re angry.”
Marcus shook his head.
“I’m not teaching him that.”
He unplugged the clippers.
Dropped them into the sink.
“Pack a bag.”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“You really think you’re morally superior right now?”
“No.”
Marcus looked at his son.
“I think I’m late.”
That hurt more.
Because it was true.
Vanessa left the bathroom without another word.
Marcus waited until her footsteps disappeared.
Then knelt.
Caleb’s curls covered the floor around him.
The boy looked at the mirror.
“Do I look bad?”
Marcus almost broke.
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
He swallowed.
“You look like someone started a haircut and didn’t finish.”
Caleb cried harder.
“I wanted my curls.”
“I know.”
“They won’t come back.”
“Yes, they will.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Marcus did not know.
He took out his phone.
“Let’s ask Uncle Dre.”
Andre Bennett had been Marcus’s barber since college.
More importantly, he had known Aisha.
He answered on the second ring.