Francis sat behind his desk with a magazine in hand and a strong desire to crawl back in bed. Nobody had come in all afternoon, and boredom was gnawing at his brain. He would have given anything to take the day off and make macaroni art with Matthieu, but he really needed the money. He barely had enough to pay the bills, and he needed to save up for Matthieu's upcoming birthday. So he flipped through his magazine and waited for someone, anyone, to come in.
His prayers were shortly answered as Arthur entered. He had a look of pure panic in his eyes as he said, "I need you to fix my hair. I don't care how much it costs, just fix it. I've got a very important presentation in three hours and nothing will tame this beast." His hair was wild and matted in the back. Francis almost didn't recognize him, but that wonderful English accent jogged his memory. He held back a chuckle.
"Oh, my. What sort of trouble did you get yourself into?" Francis asked.
"My kid decided to give me a makeover. With glue. I managed to get most of it out, but the damage is done." Francis set down his magazine and leaned over the desk. He felt a lock of Arthur's hair. The tips were crunchy and stiff between his fingers, but there was still some salvageable hair closer to his scalp.
"How short are you willing to go?"
"Anything but bald." Francis thought for a moment before running to the back of the salon and scanning his shelves of supplies. His eyes met a bottle of dish soap. Perfect. He snatched it up and showed it to Arthur.
"I think this is your best bet. We just rub it on, leave it in for an hour, and comb your hair." Arthur nodded and followed him to the sink.
"How do you know this stuff works?" he asked as he leaned his head under the faucet.
"I had to fix Matthieu's hair after some older kid poured a bottle of glue onto him at school. Nail polish remover works better, but I don't have any of that here. In fact, I only have dish soap because my sink upstairs got clogged and I had to do the dishes down here." Francis turned on the warm water and started to pour dish soap onto Arthur's hair. He made sure to cover all of the crusty parts. and he was extra gentle as he rubbed his scalp.
"Ah, so your apartment is just above the salon? That must be handy."
"It can be nice. But it does make the line between work and home a little blurry, you know?"
"I see. My apartment is above a cafe, so my main issue is buying pastries for breakfast all the time. That might not seem so bad, but my son has taken to calling me 'The Marshmallow Man,' and I'm pretty sure it's not because of my personality." Francis let out a short laugh. He rinsed off his hands and turned off the water.
"I have to say, I'm a little jealous. Matthieu calls me 'Papa,' and that's fine and all, but I feel like I'm missing out on some cute nicknames," Francis said. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Arthur's head so that all of his hair was covered. "You can stand up now, if you want," he said. Arthur stood up and glanced around the room.
"So, I guess I have an hour to kill. Got anything interesting to talk about?" said Arthur. Francis thought for a moment.
"Well… no, not really. The most exciting thing I've done all week was finishing a puzzle. Matthieu did the bulk of it with the babysitter, but I helped."
"You sure do talk about Matthieu a lot. You two must be close."
"I suppose so. He's my only real family, so my whole life kind of revolves around him." He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "I mean, I'm either with him or I'm at work, so I've got a pretty limited amount of things to talk about."
"I know what you mean. Sometimes it feels like I'm just looping between date nights, work and Alfred. Hopefully this presentation will change that, though. I'm meant to get a raise if it goes well."
"I wish you the best of luck with that. Where do you work?"
"I'm on the marketing team for Snackrock. It's this little company that makes granola bars and trail mix. I mostly applied for the employee discount, but everyone there is really nice, and the job pays well." Francis nodded along but took in none of that information. He listened to Arthur blab on for another fifteen minutes about business and how his new advertising campaign would bring in so many customers. Finally, he just couldn't take it anymore. He had to change the subject, so he went with the first thing that came to mind.
"How are things with your partner?" he asked. Maybe it was a bit personal, but he desperately needed a break from work talk. Arthur kept silent for a moment. Francis was just about to tell him that he didn't have to answer, but Arthur spoke before he had the opportunity.
"It's alright, I guess. What about you? Got a special somebody in your life?" Francis shook his head.
"Ever since Matthieu came into my life, I haven't had the time to date."
"Ah, sorry. That… that must be hard."
"It can be, but I really am thankful to have Matthieu. He's just the sweetest little kid." Arthur smiled as thoughts of his own son came to mind.
"Yeah, I get it. Alfred might not be the most cooperative kid, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't love him with everything I have." Francis smiled. The pair chatted on for a while about their kids until Francis glanced down at his watch.
"Ah, it's already time to wash the soap out. Time sure does fly, huh?" Francis said. Arthur nodded and sat back down at the sink. He pulled off the towel and let Francis wash the dish soap out of his hair. Francis worked silently, much to Arthur's dismay. His hands were firm yet gentle so that he could get out all the soap without hurting his customer. It was almost like getting a massage. By the time he was finally done, Arthur had nearly melted.
"You, uh, really know your stuff. No other hair dresser I've been to made me this relaxed," Arthur said as Francis dried his hair.
"Well, I've had a lot of practice. Now, where did I put that comb…? Ah, here it is." Francis ran the comb through Arthur's still damp hair until all the glue had flaked away. "There we are! You look as good as new," he said as he turned Arthur's chair to face a mirror. Arthur looked himself over with a grin.
"Thank you so much. I have no idea how to repay you."
"Well, money works. Your total is twenty-five dollars."
"Oh, right. Here you go," Arthur said as he handed over a fifty dollar bill. "Keep the change," he added. Francis turned the bill over in his hand, staring at it in disbelief.
"I can't accept this. It's just too big of a tip," he said as he tried to hand it back. Arthur stood up and turned towards the door.
"No, you deserve it. Your prices are too cheap as it is, and I have cash to spare. Please, just take it." Francis hesitated a moment before pocketing the money.
"Alright, but your next trim is free." Arthur gave him a quick smile as he headed for the door.
"I'm looking forward to it," Arthur said softly. He paused in the doorway for a moment, his eyes locked with Francis's, before making his way to his car.