The barber said, “Just a little off the top.”
The Appointment
The barber said, “Just a little off the top,” and brought out a comb nearly as long as Bruno’s forearm.
Bruno, a shaggy bison, looked at the comb. Then he looked at himself in the mirror.
“Whose top?”
“Yours,” said the barber. “I’ll find it in a moment.”
Bruno had come because his fringe kept falling over his eyes. That afternoon, his family was meeting at the station to welcome his niece home. She had been away for a year, and she had promised to wave as soon as she stepped off the train.
Last week, he had walked past the baker while waving at a sign. The baker had been standing beside the sign, waiting for a greeting of her own.
Bruno did not intend to make the same mistake with his niece.
The barber draped a cape over him. His broad mane rose around the collar, leaving the cape looking rather like a tablecloth laid beneath a loaf of bread.
“Now,” said the barber, lifting the comb, “let’s see what we have.”
Through the Fringe
The comb entered near Bruno’s left horn and disappeared.
There was a pause.
“Is everything all right?” Bruno asked.
“Perfectly. I’ve found the comb.”
The barber drew it out with a few loose hairs caught between its teeth. Bruno watched them flutter onto the cape.
At home he had tried brushing his fringe back with a damp brush. For a while it had stayed where he put it. Then he had bent to pick up his keys, and it had returned to its usual place.
He liked the rest of his mane. His little nephew used to press toy cars into it and call the ridges mountain roads. His sister had once tucked a whole napkin into it at a picnic, which had been useful when she spilled her tea.
The barber lifted a thick section beside Bruno’s cheek.
“We could take this in a little.”
Bruno watched the scissors approach. The hair beside his cheek was not anywhere near his eyes.
“Would you mind leaving that part?”
The barber stopped. “You’d like the sides full?”
“Yes, please. I only need to see the train.”
The View Ahead
The barber lowered the scissors and brushed the fringe gently forward. A few strands reached Bruno’s eyelashes.
“Those?”
“Those would be a good start.”
The scissors clicked. Small tufts fell onto the cape, light enough to tremble when Bruno breathed. The barber combed the fringe down again, then trimmed a little more where it crossed his eyes.
Bruno looked through the gap. He could see the clock above the door and, beneath it, the baker passing with a paper bag.
He lifted his head in greeting. She waved back.
“Much better,” he said.
The barber stepped aside so Bruno could see the whole effect. His mane still spread generously around his head. His fringe now stopped just above his eyes, except for a small tuft that stood straight up between his horns.
The barber reached for it with the comb. Bruno watched it spring back.
“Will that settle?”
“Probably,” said the barber. “Unless it has somewhere to be.”
Bruno checked the clock. He certainly did.
At the Station
Outside, the afternoon breeze found the little tuft at once. It leaned towards the station, then bounced upright again.
Bruno met his sister and nephew on the platform. His nephew looked up and guided a toy car through the mane along an imaginary road.
“Still open,” he announced.
The train arrived in a rush of warm air. Bruno saw his niece at the window before the carriage had stopped. She was waving from the window, with a suitcase beside her.
“There she is!” he said.
He waved so vigorously that his mane shook. The breeze lifted the tuft between his horns and sent it bobbing from side to side.
His niece stepped down, laughing.
“I could see you from the other end of the carriage,” she said.
“Good. I could see you too.”
She hugged him, then leaned back to look at his face.
“Did you get a haircut?”
“Just a little off the top.”
His nephew gently pressed the tuft down with the roof of his toy car. It stayed there until he moved the car away.
Bruno’s niece waved at it. The tuft waved back.
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