a calming influence at all.
When she got to the studio, Layla was faced with another problem. “This just wouldn’t do,” said Francis, the hairdresser, as he examined her. “I can’t work with this. Your hair is a mess. You’ll have to wear a wig.”
Tears stung at the back of her eyes but she pushed them back with a force of will. It wasn’t as if she created this situation. “Do you have one at hand?”
“Yeah. But I think we should cut your hair and make it really short for now. That way a wig will fit easily and you can wear it all the time.”
Layla didn’t like it, but the idea made sense. The bald patches were now all too obvious. She couldn’t even hide them, and it wasn’t practical to wear hats all the time. After remembering what happened in the restaurant, she thought it was a better idea to wear a wig instead. Her heart clenched as she pondered over this dilemma. Cutting off her hair was a huge thing but under the circumstances, it was the ideal solution. “Go ahead.”
Even though Layla was aware of the low murmurs that continued when he began chopping off her hair, she didn’t bother to check to see who might be talking. Naturally, the news regarding this would spread far and wide. Gossip traveled at the speed of lightning in the modeling industry. People thrived on it. Her competitors were bound to have a big laugh over this, but she couldn’t allow them to bring her down. She would fight this till the end.
After being fitted with the wig and the makeup done, Layla walked to the set to start the photo shoot. Much to her surprise, no one commented as she continued with her work. Surely, the photographer knew about her hair loss by now, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash at her new hairdo. The wig she wore looked quite similar in color to her own hair, and it was a good fit. Once pack up was announced, she collected her belongings.
“Layla, wait a minute.” The photographer came over. “Good job today. I believe we’re working tomorrow with another client.”
“Yes, we are.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I just wanted you to know I’m glad that you’re continuing with your work despite—the troubles you’re facing right now. This is true professional behavior, and I just wanted to congratulate you on it.”
Amazed that he would show such support, she hugged him. “Thank you.”
Feeling slightly better, she hailed a cab and went home. It was already eight in the evening. All she wanted to do was take a hot shower, have a meal, and go right to sleep. All this worrying about her hair and the continuous pressures of work made her feel tired. Entering her house, she felt surprised to find it dark.
Perhaps her mother didn’t bother to come back.
With a sigh of relief, she strode in and dropped her keys in the bowl next to the main door. She pulled the wig off and shucked off the wig cap, thankful that Francis didn’t use a lace-front wig, in which he might have had to use glue or tape, making it a little more complicated for her to take off.
A loud, piercing scream reverberated in the silence and Layla jumped. She ran back to the room and switched on the light. When the light flickered to life, she saw her mother, her arms wrapped tightly around her body, and rocking back and forth on the couch.
“Mom?”
“Go away.”
“Mom—?”
“You—you—bastard.” It seemed Mary could barely control her rasping breaths.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Layla rushed over to her mother and stretched out her hand to comfort her.
Mary’s eyes bulged. “Get away from me!”
Layla’s stomach churned. She couldn’t figure out what could have triggered this episode.
Mary slapped Layla’s hand away from her shoulder. “Don’t—don’t hurt me.” Mary was visibly trembling throughout her entire body. “Please don’t…” Mary curled herself in the fetal position and clapped her hands over her ears.
Layla