I asked what had happened.
“Nothing.”
“Ethan.”
“They’re idiots.”
“Who?”
He told me.
I felt anger rise in my chest, but I tried not to let it take over the conversation.
“Do you want to cut your hair?”
“No.”
“You can, you know. You can stop whenever you want.”
He stared at me.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because I don’t want you feeling trapped by something you chose to do for someone else.”
His expression softened.
“I’m not trapped, Mom.”
He pulled the elastic from his hair and ran his fingers through it.
“I’m just annoyed.”
The following weekend, Lily called him.
I was passing his bedroom when I heard her laughing through the open door.
“Your hair looks better than mine ever did,” she said.
Ethan leaned back in his chair.
“That’s because I use expensive shampoo.”
“You use your mom’s shampoo.”
“Exactly. She’s very rich in shampoo.”
