That sentence. The casual admission of it, the complete absence of apology or even discomfort, the implication that the problem with asking was that it might have produced a refusal rather than that it should have been required. I stood in my childhood home in my pajamas with my ruined hair and tried to locate something that would make what had just been said to me comprehensible.
“You cut my hair while I was sleeping,” I said.
“It will grow back,” my father said, not meeting my eyes. “It’s just hair.”
“I’ve been growing it for over ten years.”
“Ashley needed this one day,” my mother said, with the patient reasonableness of someone explaining a thing they have already decided is reasonable. “She needed to feel special. To be the center of attention without having to compete with your appearance. Is that really so much to ask?”
