He sits on a park bench. Bo sits next to him, eating a single-serving, sized box of coco puffs. Bo breaks the silence.
"I need a haircut."
"Your hair isn't that long."
"I like it short, really short."
"How short are we talking?"
"Jarhead short."
"Jarhead, huh?"
"Yes," he nods.
"Why?"
He shrugs, "That's just the way I like it."
"Your mother let you cut your hair that way?"
"Once, she cried."
"And Ziva?"
"She lets me cut my hair however I want. She lets me wear whatever I want, as long as it's within reason. She doesn't have a lot of rules."
"She doesn't?"
"Rule number one, always be respectful, even to people you don't like. Two, tell the truth, even when a lie would do better. Three, sometimes you have to let go of the past, even if it hurts. That's it. Oh, and don't leave the toilet seat up. That's not really a rule, just an understanding."
"Those are good rules."
"Yes, they are."
"What happens if you break the rules?"
"It depends. If you break rule number one... privileges are all taken away, for a week."
"All privileges?"
"No T.V.. No sweets. No video games, not that I am allowed to play them that much, anyway. No ipod."
"So what do you do?"
"I draw."
"What do you draw?"
"Sometimes people. But mostly boats, and ships. Sometimes I draw planes."
"From other pictures?"
"No," he shakes his head, "She takes me to the museum, a lot."
"She makes you go to the museum?"
"I don't mind."
"Bo?"
"Huh?"
"Do you remember your mom?"
"Not a lot. I remember the day that she cried when I got my hair cut."
January 5th, 2008
She sits in a chair, at a barber shop, near her Georgetown apartment. Bo sits quietly, in the next chair. She stares at him, in awe. She had never met another four year old, who could be as quiet, and still as he could. That he got from his father. She had never been very talented at doing either. He flips through a book.
She smiles, and her fingers run through his hair. She hated getting his hair cut. It was like he was a little less, of a baby, each time. He wasn't a baby, he was four, but he was her baby. She pets his hair. His red hair is in a bowl cut. It's thick, and perfectly straight. He looks over at her, and smiles.
"Did you find one that you like?" she questions.
"Yes," he nods.
She pulls out her glasses. She puts them on, and looks at the page he has open. She stares at a cute, spiky hair cut. She points to it.
"That one?" she questions.
He furrows his brow, and shakes his head. He points to the picture, on the next page, "That one."
"That one? Are you sure? Bo, it's so short."
"I like it short."
"I think that it's too short."
"Mommy?"
"Huh?"
"You know I'm not a little girl, right?"
"Yes, I know that."
"Boys have short hair."
"It doesn't have to be that short."
"Mommy, please?"
There was no arguing with him. Yes he was stubborn, he had gotten a double dose of that, but that wasn't the reason. She just never could argue with him. He would smile, and bat his long, eye lashes, and she couldn't say no. He knew how to work her over, he always had.
She watches at the barber pulls out the clippers. She sticks her head into a magazine, trying not to watch. She hears the chair go down, and she looks up. Bo bounces towards her with a huge smile on his face. He looked like a little man, instead of a baby. He looked like... his father. She can't seem to fight the tears back. He stops in front of her, and looks at her questioningly.
"Mommy, don't you like it?"
"Yes, of course I do," she answers.
"So why are you crying?"
"I'm crying because I'm sad."
"About my haircut?"
"I'm sad because you're growing up," she admits.
"I can't be a baby forever," he reminds her.
"No," she pulls him towards her. Hugging him close to her body. She wipes some of the hair off him, and kisses the side of his face, "but you'll always be my baby."
He stares at Bo, with a smile. Bo looks back at him, with a big grin.
"So will you take me?"
"Yup."
"You aren't going to cry, are you?"
"No."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"What if one day, I have to wear my hair that way?"
"What do you mean Bo?"
"What if I become a jarhead?"
"You're mother would come back, and haunt me."
He smiles, "Good."