Severed
i
The summer that Amy turned five, her mother taught her how to braid hair. She was so excited by her accomplishment that she ran out of the house without taking the time to tie her shoes. She made it all the way to the Hart's driveway before tripping, falling, and skinning her knee. Laynie, who had been in the garage trying to get to 999 on her new pink Skip-It, helped a sniffling Amy hobble inside for a Band-Aid and a cherry ice-pop.
Her disposition significantly improved, Amy eagerly offered to show Laynie how to braid, using a Barbie to demonstrate. At first, Laynie's fingers seemed clumsy, unwilling. She chewed her bottom lip, deep in concentration, until she managed to twine the fake hair into a semblance of a braid.
Proud of their newfound ability, Amy and Laynie braided and unbraided each other's hair through the Flintstones, the Smurfs, and two back-to-back episodes of Full House. Their hands became quicker with every attempt, their fingers more deft and nimble. By the time Mrs. Brown called Amy home for dinner, they could braid each other's waist-length hair in less than ten minutes.
ii
When kindergarten started, Amy and Laynie sat in the very front seat of the bus behind the new bus driver. They calmed each other's first-day-of-school jitters by plaiting tight pigtails into their hair, finishing them off with bright pink bands. The bus-ride hair braiding soon became a ritual that lasted until high school, modified only in third grade, when Laynie taught herself how to make French braids.
Every morning they would comb their fingers gently through each other's hair, Amy's golden and soft and Laynie's more course and dark. Amy always went first; when Laynie got on the bus, Amy would be waiting, hair-band and brush in hand. Her braids were swift and tight, transforming Laynie's thick hair into something more delicate and refined. Laynie braided as though Amy's hair was made of thin strands of glass that could break at any moment. Her breathing would slow, her hands move as though she were praying: deliberate, full of awe.
Laynie kissed the way she braided hair, Bright thought the first time he accidentally discovered them in Amy's bedroom. Her touch was languid, lazy, like Amy was some kind of goddess and Laynie's sole purpose in life was to worship her. Amy, Bright was surprised to observe, seemed entirely unsure of herself. She raised her hands several times, intending to pull Laynie closer, but she always let them drop, content to reciprocate Laynie's kisses.
iii
Packing her suitcase for St. Agatha's only two weeks after coming home from the hospital, Laynie found herself unable to cry. Gently folding her clothes, laying them in the suitcase, she felt a lump rise in her throat, but couldn't force the tears to spill down her cheeks. Her gaze traveled from her now-empty bulletin board, down to her desk, and came to rest upon the purple-handled scissors in her pencil jar. Seized by an uncontrollable impulse, she walked over to the desk, grabbed the scissors in one hand and a braided pigtail in the other, and began to cut.
The braids were difficult to cut through at first, but Laynie was determined. For so long, she had been dependent on Amy for strength as well as for friendship. The braids twisted them together, made them each more powerful than they would have been apart. Now all of Amy's energy was dedicated to Colin, and Laynie had to find her own strength.
When she was done, Laynie dumped the hair in her garbage can and snuck out through the back door. The woman at the salon asked no questions, but simply repaired the damage, shaping Laynie's hair into a bob that curved downward to frame her face.
Laynie left the next morning without telling Amy what she had done. Staring at her unfamiliar reflection in the window of her father's car, she remembered the way Amy had shrugged her off in the hospital waiting room when she had reached for her, needing something to do with her hands other than bite her nails. Laynie shrank back into her chair, realizing she'd lost more than her brother in the accident. She'd lost Amy as well.
i
The summer that Amy turned five, her mother taught her how to braid hair. She was so excited by her accomplishment that she ran out of the house without taking the time to tie her shoes. She made it all the way to the Hart's driveway before tripping, falling, and skinning her knee. Laynie, who had been in the garage trying to get to 999 on her new pink Skip-It, helped a sniffling Amy hobble inside for a Band-Aid and a cherry ice-pop.
Her disposition significantly improved, Amy eagerly offered to show Laynie how to braid, using a Barbie to demonstrate. At first, Laynie's fingers seemed clumsy, unwilling. She chewed her bottom lip, deep in concentration, until she managed to twine the fake hair into a semblance of a braid.
Proud of their newfound ability, Amy and Laynie braided and unbraided each other's hair through the Flintstones, the Smurfs, and two back-to-back episodes of Full House. Their hands became quicker with every attempt, their fingers more deft and nimble. By the time Mrs. Brown called Amy home for dinner, they could braid each other's waist-length hair in less than ten minutes.
ii
When kindergarten started, Amy and Laynie sat in the very front seat of the bus behind the new bus driver. They calmed each other's first-day-of-school jitters by plaiting tight pigtails into their hair, finishing them off with bright pink bands. The bus-ride hair braiding soon became a ritual that lasted until high school, modified only in third grade, when Laynie taught herself how to make French braids.
Every morning they would comb their fingers gently through each other's hair, Amy's golden and soft and Laynie's more course and dark. Amy always went first; when Laynie got on the bus, Amy would be waiting, hair-band and brush in hand. Her braids were swift and tight, transforming Laynie's thick hair into something more delicate and refined. Laynie braided as though Amy's hair was made of thin strands of glass that could break at any moment. Her breathing would slow, her hands move as though she were praying: deliberate, full of awe.
Laynie kissed the way she braided hair, Bright thought the first time he accidentally discovered them in Amy's bedroom. Her touch was languid, lazy, like Amy was some kind of goddess and Laynie's sole purpose in life was to worship her. Amy, Bright was surprised to observe, seemed entirely unsure of herself. She raised her hands several times, intending to pull Laynie closer, but she always let them drop, content to reciprocate Laynie's kisses.
iii
Packing her suitcase for St. Agatha's only two weeks after coming home from the hospital, Laynie found herself unable to cry. Gently folding her clothes, laying them in the suitcase, she felt a lump rise in her throat, but couldn't force the tears to spill down her cheeks. Her gaze traveled from her now-empty bulletin board, down to her desk, and came to rest upon the purple-handled scissors in her pencil jar. Seized by an uncontrollable impulse, she walked over to the desk, grabbed the scissors in one hand and a braided pigtail in the other, and began to cut.
The braids were difficult to cut through at first, but Laynie was determined. For so long, she had been dependent on Amy for strength as well as for friendship. The braids twisted them together, made them each more powerful than they would have been apart. Now all of Amy's energy was dedicated to Colin, and Laynie had to find her own strength.
When she was done, Laynie dumped the hair in her garbage can and snuck out through the back door. The woman at the salon asked no questions, but simply repaired the damage, shaping Laynie's hair into a bob that curved downward to frame her face.
Laynie left the next morning without telling Amy what she had done. Staring at her unfamiliar reflection in the window of her father's car, she remembered the way Amy had shrugged her off in the hospital waiting room when she had reached for her, needing something to do with her hands other than bite her nails. Laynie shrank back into her chair, realizing she'd lost more than her brother in the accident. She'd lost Amy as well.