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Olivia engaged in profound introspection within the attic of their Kansas home, sifting through antiquated albums and video tapes shrouded in layers of dust. While it held sentimental value prior to her departure for Oxford next month, the experience proved unworthy of enduring the allergies, leaving her uncertain if her eyes welled with sentimentality or irritation.
After a minute, Ted had looked up from the attic stairs and was immediately startled by the intense heat of the room, “Liv, baby, ain’t it hot up here to be doing all that?”
“Mm,” Olivia casually hummed while perusing a few pages of Ted's high school yearbook, “No, I’d say the dust is giving me a harder time than anything.”
Ted settles beside Olivia, the timeworn wood audibly groaning beneath their weight. He chuckles as Olivia delicately trails her fingers across a page emblazoned with bold letters at the top: ”TED LASSO AND MISSY ELLSWORTH NAMED HOMECOMING KING AND QUEEN 1993”
Olivia chuckles, “Okay, Mr. Bigshot.”
Ted rubs the back of his neck bashfully, “Golly, to see me all rusty in my muddy uniform standing next to the queen bee was somethin’,”
“You looked good, Daddy,” Olivia says patting Ted’s back in reassurance, “and she really needed to lay back on that smokey liner, jeez.”
“It was the style at the time, baby girl.”
As they continued sharing conversations about Ted's later high school years, Olivia grew increasingly cognizant of the factors that shaped his personality. Intrigued, she transitioned to perusing her father's secondary school yearbook. In stark contrast to Ted's well-worn copy, her father's yearbook boasted a remarkably pristine and formal cover. Surprisingly, Olivia had never laid eyes on it before.
“Dad doesn’t talk about his secondary days much.” Olivia says after a pause.
“Mm.” Ted sounds less intrigued and more cautious. Olivia notes in her mind he probably knows.
She shrugs, “Perhaps they weren’t the best.”
Ted simply nods, understanding Olivia's hesitation to open the book. As she turns the pages, she can't help but notice the stark contrast in the atmosphere captured within. The expressions of joy seem scarce, overshadowed by the strict accommodations they all endured. Olivia playfully suggests to Ted if they were punished with ruler slaps, but Ted dismisses her joke with a shake of his head.
Now she’s considering the possibility.
Olivia hears Trent calling Ted from downstairs, prompting Ted to excuse himself for dinner. Now alone with her father's yearbook, Olivia finds herself chuckling at the sports sections. She remembers how Ted would often remark on how Americans take immense pride in their athletic programs compared to the Brits. It's quite evident in Ted’s yearbook, with multiple pages dedicated to listing the names and accomplishments of their sports teams; football, undoubtedly, being the biggest.
Then, she finds it.
”What the fuck?!”
Olivia had never laid eyes upon photographs of her father during his youth, or at least not until now. He had always been the epitome of a well-groomed, stylish, and fashion-conscious father in her eyes. It was difficult for her to fathom him in any other way. However, in recent times, he seemed to have adopted a more relaxed demeanor. His attire became looser, his hair cascaded past his shoulders, and he no longer prioritized tidiness as before. This transformation was something beyond her expectations for her father.
Curiosity piqued, Olivia's gaze fell upon the outline beneath his portrait, ”TRENT ALEXANDER CRIMM, 18. YEAR 13”
Trent's hair is short. Well, not entirely short, but the top is curled and neatly swept to the side. Olivia isn't horrified, just perplexed. It's quite fascinating to see this change. Her dad's hair has always been a defining feature for him. Maybe there's a backstory behind it. Perhaps the academy he attended had certain rules about hair length. Who knows?
What made it even more enlightening was that Olivia found herself contemplating cutting her own hair.
”Olivia! Dinner’s ready!”
Upon hearing Trent's call from downstairs, Olivia paused for a moment, savoring the image in the photograph before delicately closing the book and carefully placing it in a spot where she could easily locate it later.
As she descended the stairs, her attention was drawn to Trent, who was enveloping Henry in a tight embrace. She knew that Trent would soon be departing for Tennessee in a matter of days. Meanwhile, Ted was busy surveying the kitchen before swiftly making his way to the dining room. Olivia found herself standing there, still unable to fully comprehend the revelation she had made just a few minutes ago.
So lost in her thoughts, Olivia didn't even realize she had been quiet until Henry gently shook her shoulder at the table.
"Liv, you seen a ghost there or something?" Henry asked, his concern evident in his voice.
“What?” Olivia breathes out.
“Your eyes are the size of saucers.”
Meanwhile, Trent observed her intently from across the table, his brows furrowed, “Are you irritated? I told you you shouldn’t have been lurking in the attic, too much dust.”
Ted chuckles and Olivia stares blankly at her plate of steak before blurting out, “I want to cut my hair.”
Trent nearly chokes on his drink, causing a stir at the table. However, Olivia remains engrossed in her plate, her attention unyielding. She's not entirely certain why she blurted out those words, but the thought was impulsive. Perhaps it's because her hair has become so long, for she typically holds her auburn locks in the highest regard.
”Olivia Elizabeth, why on earth would you cut your hair?! You love it!” Trent cries.
“You looked good with cut hair.”
The table falls silent, Ted sporting a smug smile while Henry starts babbling nonsense.
”You cut your hair?!” Henry's jaw drops in astonishment, while Trent experiences a sudden shrinking sensation in his chair.
“Holy hell. You found my old pictures didn’t you?” Trent groans mortified.
As the conversation continues, Ted playfully teases Trent for a brief moment, while Henry excitedly discusses his upcoming move. Olivia's mind starts to wander as she contemplates the idea of cutting her hair. She absentmindedly runs her fingers through her precious locks, but the thought makes her recoil. Her hair means everything to her, and despite the notion sounding trivial, she hasn't gone through a breakup. So why would she consider cutting it?
“It looked good,” Olivia tells Trent later when they’re alone in the kitchen, “I just…was kinda surprised. Your hair is everything to you.”
Trent completes the final dish and lets out a sigh, his chuckle tinged with a hint of embarrassment. However, his gaze shifts towards Olivia, his eyes filled with concern. “It is, my darling. I just…”
Olivia frowns, “Was it not allowed?”
Trent shakes his head, his expression reflecting a mix of perplexity and concern, “No. It was. Or wasn’t. It wasn’t necessarily said. I just didn’t want to be different.”
“Oh.”
“If you want to cut your hair, that’s fine, sweetheart. Just…”
Trent trails off, his gaze shifting to the side, as hesitation lingers in the air.
“Don’t do it to change yourself. Don’t ever do anything that changes the way you look because you feel like an oddball.”
Oh.
Olivia's heart sinks as she realizes her assumption about Trent was wrong. She remembers how her father didn't talk much about it, but she understood how difficult it had been for him to be his true self. One of her earliest memories after her dad came out was her mother explaining that some people were different, not in a bad way, but in a way that made them stand out. Her mother emphasized that it wasn't something to be ashamed of because they were all human. However, her mother also stressed that sometimes it wasn't safe.
Despite all of this, her mother made sure they knew that her father was loved.
“You know, it’s difficult. It’s been that way my whole life. Even then, I was still never able to fit in. They saw right through me, and they just picked and poked until I couldn’t take it anymore,” A glare appears on Trent’s eyes through his glasses, and Olivia feels her heart drop, “I hated myself for so long, Olivia. I hated myself for betraying your mother and lying to her. And I know I wouldn’t have you,”
Trent strokes the side of Olivia’s face softly, “I still felt like I was terrible. I felt guilty and I wanted to change. Neither did I think I was worth loving.”
“But now?” Olivia asks softly, and Trent softly sniffles.
“Now…”
“You and mom are the happiest I’ve ever seen you two. You’re best friends, you didn’t betray her at all. Like you said it yourself, it’s not easy.”
Trent cries, “I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to get so worked up over a conversation about a haircut.”
“Oh, dad,” Olivia sighs and she embraces Trent.
“I just hated the feeling. The feelings I felt when I was so young and scared. I just don’t ever want you to feel that way, especially when you’re so far away from me.”
Olivia pulls back and Trent cradles her face, “I want to always be there to remind you that you’re loved. No matter what you are or who you love, that if there’s one person in the world who loves you it’s me.”
Olivia understands that Trent's recent moping around the house is fueled by a mix of emotions. He's sad because he knows she'll soon leave the nest, but she also knows he's terrified. Trent has opened up about his own experiences, sharing how he never had a reliable sanctuary with his own parents during his lowest points. Now, he's afraid that Olivia might find herself in that same place and won't reach out for help.
His increased "I love yous" are genuine, but Olivia recognizes that they stem from his fear.
Olivia chuckles softly, “I know, I know I’m loved. You are too.”
Trent sniffles again, and he pulls her back into another hug, “I hate crying in front of you.”
“I kinda like it. Reminds me you’re human and not some perfectionist.”
Trent wryly laughs, “My darling if anyone’s perfect, it’s you.”
Olivia hums softly as she buries her face in her father's hair, savoring the moment. She has always adored Trent's hair, which has been her favorite feature since her earliest memories. She remembers running her stubby little fingers through his dark curls, which were less grey back then. His hair is perfect, and she finds comfort in knowing that he's able to release all his worries into it.
“I think I’m still gonna get a hair cut. I have a lot of dead ends.” Olivia blurts out after a minute.
Trent pulls back to observe the edge of her hairs, “Goodness. Maybe a little trim will do.”