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"Connie, are you sure about this?"
She asked me how to be funny,
Constance laughs. They're sitting in her bathroom, Ocean sitting in front of the sink, her girlfriend standing behind her putting on a pair of latex gloves. "Yeah, I'm sure, Oce! I've done this so many times. You've got nothing to worry about. Besides, we're only dying the ends."
But that's not something you can teach.
Ocean looks sceptical. "What if I get an allergic reaction?" she says. And she unconsciously lets one hand touch her scalp, and the other rest in Constance's fingers, and she heats up, surprised by the action. But she squeezes her hand.
What seemed so blue in the sunlight,
"I'll go get an EpiPen," Constance deadpans, "and try not to touch your head while I'm doing it... sorry."
By the night was a pale green.
"Don't be," Ocean replies. Constance always apologises too much. Ocean wasn't really a sympathy person, but she couldn't let her girlfriend apologise for anything. She just couldn't. "It's fine, Con."
And I tried to hold her,
Constance smiles a little. "What colour do you want it to be, again?"
But it didn't really last long.
"Blue," says Ocean in response.
She's getting older,
Blue was Ocean's favourite colour, so it was Constance's as well. Blue like the sea, blue like the ocean itself. Blue like her eyes. The eyes she could look into until the end of time. From the moment they met and Constance looked into those blue eyes, she decided it was her favourite colour.
I guess she's gotta cut her blue hair off.
And she starts to wash her girlfriend's hair first in the sink, pushing all her pretty red locks in front of her face, and then Constance starts to dye it.
She asked me if she was pretty,
Then there's the wait, which Ocean loudly complains is her least favourite part. Ocean was always impatient, ever since her girlfriend could remember.
Well it's clear that the girl's a fraud.
Since kindergarten, when Ocean convinced the teachers to make naptime ten minutes shorter. Or the second grade, where she'd always push through the line for lunch because she didn't want to wait for her food. But she could never run out of patience for Constance.
There's really no way of winning,
So Ocean's bored, and she starts playing with her girlfriend's hair. Fiddling with the violet parts, as she leans her head on Constance's shoulder. They're sitting on the floor of their bathroom, waiting. Just waiting.
If in their eyes, you'll always be a dumb blonde.
And then it's done; Constance blow-dries it, and Ocean spins around, letting her hair, now tinged with dark blue, ripple down her back like waves against the shore.
And she cried over nothing,
"I love it." She grins. "It's like yours." The shore of a beautiful ocean.
"Hey, Ocean, did you get a haircut?" Penny asks.
So there was nothing I could do to stop,
Ocean smiles bashfully, playing with her hair a little. A faint blush creeps on her face, satisfied that somebody noticed. "Yeah, I cut off the blue parts."
Her from cutting,
Constance's watching from the distance, and she tries so hard not to cry. Her bottom lip quivers as she tries not to cry. Seeking comfort, she plays with her own purple hair, like Ocean used to do. She'd never cut her hair off.
Her beautiful blue hair off.
She'd never let go of the memories of that day.