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Frank was startled by a knock at the door and nearly dropped his stack of dishes.
"Who is it?" he called peevishly, annoyed at the interruption, but not willing to ignore it. It might be Eddie with a package or Wally with a new insect to show him. There was always the risk that it was Barnaby, but that was a chance he would have to take.
"It's Julie."
Julie? It was quite unusual for her to knock other than to announce that she was about to open the door. They were close enough friends to let themselves into each other's home. Despite her bright, rambunctious nature, Julie understood that Frank preferred his living space to be orderly. Frank, in turn, refrained from re-organizing Julie's copious collection of craft works and playthings.
"Well, come in then," Frank called, less peevishly now. "My hands are full."
He heard the front door open and close as he placed the dishes on the counter and then ferried them to their respective homes inside the cupboards. By the time he turned around, Julie had entered the kitchen and stood sheepishly near the doorway, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat and a large scarf wrapped around her head, concealing her hair completely.
"You don't look half yourself," Frank told her. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, sure, Frank," Julie said, smiling halfheartedly. "But I need your help. I'm really, really in trouble."
"Trouble?" As far as Frank was concerned, Julie getting herself into trouble was nothing new. However, she typically got herself out just as quickly, never losing her good cheer. This subdued request was quite unlike her. "Sit down and tell me all about it. I'll make us some tea."
"Well..." Julie began hesitantly as Frank filled the kettle. "I had been having a... sad time."
"You didn't sit through it alone, did you?" Frank prompted. Cheerful as she was, Julie was prone to sudden dark moods, infrequent but devastating. "I told you before to come and see me when these things happen."
"I know!" Julie insisted. "But you were doing your spring cleaning and I didn't want to bother you or be in the way."
"I understand that it's hard to believe - I've had those moods myself and they do make it hard to trust in anyone - but you can't just wait it out on your own. It will eat away at you with no one else around to interrupt it."
"I know, Frank. I-"
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Frank interrupted before Julie could apologize. "It isn't about me. I just worry about you when these things happen. Being alone is worse than just being here and watching me work. I'm not blaming you, but I do want you to know that you're always welcome here, even... especially when you're having a sad time."
Julie smiled. Not as brightly as usual, but less sadly than when she arrived.
"Thanks, Frank."
"Now, why don't you tell me what kind of trouble you're in?"
"Well, you know how when it's a sad time it feels very hard to do anything?" Julie said.
Frank murmured an agreement. He knew how it felt.
"And sometimes it's hard to even get out of bed?"
Frank nodded. He knew that too.
"Aaaaand, maybe it's a bit hard to really bathe?"
Frank inclined his head to show that he was listening although that aspect was not something he had ever experienced. He was far too fastidious to not wash himself daily.
"Are you suggesting you haven't washed in days and acquired some sort of rash," Frank asked gently, not wanting to imply judgment.
"Oh! No, Frank," Julie insisted. "I had a wash as soon as I was feeling a bit better. I've had a few since, but..."
"But?"
Julie hesitated, and then untied the scarf and unwound it from her head. Her hair tumbled down in a matted mess.
For anyone else in the neighbourhood, a few days without hair care would cause discomfort in the form of itchiness and a few stubborn snarls. Julie had such long, fine hair that leaving it to tangle for the shortest time produced horrific results.
"I couldn't at first, then when I did I got impatient and upset." The words tumbled from Julie's mouth in a rush as though she were afraid to dwell on them. "And then I was scared of what people would say and used the scarf, but that just made everything worse!"
"Oh, Julie," Frank sighed as he rescued the kettle and added the hot water to the tea pot. "This is why you should come to me on those days. I can make sure things don't get too messy for you."
"I know! That's why I need your help!" Julie insisted. "Sally sent me a letter and wants to visit to talk about putting on another play. She'll be so mad if my hair's a mess and I can't take part! She might cut it all off and make me wear a wig! I don't mind wigs, but I don't want my hair to be cut off."
"I doubt very much that Sally would be angry with you," Frank assured her as he set the tea pot, two cups, two saucers, sugar, and cream on the table. "I think it's more likely that you think you'll be embarrassed by her reaction."
"Maybe," Julie allowed.
"Well, you shouldn't be. Her opinion doesn't matter," Frank said as he poured Julie a cup. "She probably would demand you cut it off though."
"Fra-ank!"
"I'm only teasing a little. You know I wouldn't let that happen. It's why you're here, isn't it?"
Julie huffed at him, not as dramatically as she might have done under other circumstances, but there was still a hint of humour about it. It suggested a lightening of her mood that reassured him.
"Let me take a look at it," he told her. "I'm sure I can work the tangles out. It will be easier than reaching behind your head to do it."
"Okay. But don't pull!"
"I can't guarantee that. It really is quite a mess. But I will do my very best. Let me grab a few things and we'll get started. The sooner begun, the sooner done."
Julie's expression softened and relaxed.
"Thanks, Frank."
He left her alone a moment to collect the brush and comb he kept aside to help Julie with everyday snarls, a pair of sharp scissors for the discreet removal of tight knots, shampoo and conditioner, string, towels, and a soft throw blanket.
Julie was not impressed with the scissors.
"They're only for breakage," Frank reassured her. "You don't want the ends to be split, do you? I promise I won't use them unless it's necessary and will ask you first. Now, take off your coat. You can wrap up in this blanket. It will keep your shirt clean."
It would also be a comfort, although Frank didn't say so. He knew that she knew it and she knew that he knew it. There was no reason to linger on bad feelings, only find a way to make them stop.
Frank pulled out a stool and took Julie's coat as she wrapped the throw around her shoulders and pulled it tight across her chest, hugging herself briefly before settling on the stool in front of her tea. Frank washed his hands and prepared a plate of cookies, placing it within Julie's reach. The task would be long and uncomfortable and he wanted to make it as easy as he could for her.
With everything prepared, he picked up the comb and set to work.
"You must have had a very bad time," he commiserated as he used the long handle of the comb to delicately pick apart snarls of hair. "You don't usually let it get this bad. Although it's not a greasy as I would have thought."
"I did try to wash it at least," Julie confessed.
"Without detangling?"
"Well... That was just so much work..."
"I understand," Frank assured her. "That's why I don't want you to be afraid to come and see me. When you can't do things for yourself, I'm happy to help you. That's what friends are for. But it does explain why some of these knots are so hard to work through. Washing without detangling will only make the tangles tighter. I'll be as careful as I can, but there might be some tugging."
"Okay," Julie said, resigned.
And there was, indeed, some tugging. Frank did what he could to minimize it and held Julie's hair close to her scalp as he worked through the snarls, but her occasional hiss of pain told him that he did not entirely succeed.
Julie kept a brave face, however, and did not complain as Frank worked through the worst of it. She sighed in relief when he told her the large knots were done and he was beginning the comb-through.
Frank worked his way through carefully, beginning at the tips and working his way up as the hair loosened and smoothed. Julie had a lot of it and it took some time, but he was patient and found great satisfaction in turning chaos into order.
Inch by inch, lock by lock, he took care of the smaller tangles and snarls, making sure his comb could pass cleanly through to the end before moving on. He found a number of small knots that could not be untied and checked with Julie before snipping them out, assuring her that the few strands of hair affected would be unnoticeable.
When he reached her scalp and there was nothing more for him to do, he gave a great sigh of satisfaction and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
"I think that's that," Frank declared. "How does it feel?"
"Much better," Julie told him. "Thank you."
"It still needs cleaning, of course. Is that something you would like to do yourself at home or would you like me to take care of it?"
Julie sat quietly a moment, as though conducting an internal debate.
"I would really like it if you would help me," she decided.
Frank had thought as much, but wanted the decision to be hers in so far as she was able to decide.
"Shower or sink?"
"Sink, please."
This was her usual choice as well, but Frank did not like to presume.
He cleared off the counter and put down some of the towels, rolling one up as a neck rest. When he was prepared, he let Julie know and pulled out a chair so that she might hop up onto the counter. He let her keep the blanket, although he adjusted it and the shirt beneath to expose the top of her shoulders, and then helped her lie down on the counter with her head tilted over the neck rest and her hair in the sink.
He had fought the urge to ask her to remove her footwear, but she had done so of her own accord, another sign that she was feeling somewhat better.
But no less nervous, Frank thought, noting the way her stockinged toes curled and uncurled against the wall. Even with their years of friendship, Julie felt uncomfortable with letting anyone know she could be anything but cheerful and merry.
Rolling up his sleeves, Frank got to work.
He ran the water off to the side until it was pleasantly warm, and then soaked her hair with it, using a cup to bring the water to her hairline. He worked the shampoo in around her scalp and drew the resulting foam down the length of her hair before returning to massage her scalp again. It was as much a soothing gesture as a practical one and Julie sighed, eyes closed, as her restless toes stopped digging at the wall.
It was then that Frank noticed he was humming under his breath. Julie had often told him that he did so, but he would always deny it. He supposed he must, although he only ever caught himself doing so in these small moments, when Julie's reactions drew him away from his work. When she interrupted him with words, he no doubt stopped, making it a part of himself of which he was only dimly aware.
He nearly stopped anyway, now that he was aware of it, but forced himself to go on. Julie evidently found it calming and that was all that mattered.
He rinsed her hair thoroughly, removing every bit of shampoo, every bubble and drop of foam, and then worked conditioner through the strands, smoothing the rough patches. He continued to massage and manipulate, running his fingers through the now-loosened hair until the time came to rinse out the conditioner and wring out the water before wrapping Julie's hair in another towel and helping her to sit up.
She returned to the stool and they took turns towel-drying her hair, Julie now humming under her breath as well.
When the bulk of the water had been absorbed, Frank removed the washing tangles, using the brush as well as the comb. He did not have a proper hair dryer, so he braided Julie's hair for now and tied it off with some string. It would keep everything neat and tidy until she felt well enough to style it as she pleased.
"There," he said as he finished, smoothing the braid down her back. "Doesn't that feel so much better?"
"Yes, Frank," Julie replied, not quite cheerfully, but in good humour.
"And Sally shouldn't have any cause to complain," he added, doubling-back when Julie looked uncomfortable. "Not that there's any reason to seek her out just yet. She can certainly wait until you feel well enough to talk about stage plays."
Julie shifted nervously.
"Would you come with me when I do?"
"I would be delighted," he assured her. "I'll let the two of you talk it out, of course, but it's always a pleasure to hear what Sally has in mind. She has a very good eye for production."
"Thank you, Frank."
"Think nothing of it. In fact, I have a favour to ask you in return."
Julie seemed wary, but not overly so. She knew him well enough to know he would not impose, but her recent bout of sadness had no doubt left her feeling raw and uncertain.
"I'd like you to stay over for dinner," Frank told her. "I've been so busy with my cleaning lately that I haven't gone out to visit anyone and I would really like the company."
"Of course I can do that," Julie replied, smiling.
"That would be perfect. Thank you, Julie."
Frank busied himself with putting away the brush and comb and hanging the towels to dry before washing. Inviting Julie for dinner would allow her to "repay" him in a way that she could manage while giving her company and a way to feed herself without too much effort. He knew it and she knew it, but knowing without speaking was just another form of care.
With the kitchen tidied as best it could be, Frank sat across from Julie and discussed what vegetables to gather for dinner.