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The boys’ hair enrages José. From ten yards away, he can spot a stray tendril of dark hair flipped sideways over the regulation part that neatly scalps Lyle in half.
José can see a crooked part from the top of the stairs, and shouts, Lyle’s face pitifully crumpling and going numb as José’s leather belt slides through the loops of his pants.
Erik’s hair, according to José, needs to get out of his eyes, and out of his face. Kitty has let it grow out, soft, supple curls that she likes to twine around her finger and let spring loose like corkscrews.
Kitty has thrown down a rare boundary: José may no longer beat the boys, at least not in front of her.
Maybe there is something disturbing about seeing her boys’ bodies, bent over the coffee table in their underwear. José finds other ways to torment them.
Erik can let Kitty hold his curls down with bobby pins, or she will cut them off, give him a high and tight hairstyle like an American soldier. Erik chooses to let Kitty pin his curls down.
One day, after the family has gone shopping, José starts to scream. "Kitty, ¡tráeme las tijeras! Bring me the scissors!” He yells, shoving Erik onto the couch.
Unquestioningly obedient, Kitty brings José the pair of scissors, her brow furrowed in confusion. José grabs them from her and turns to Erik. “I have had just about enough out of you, boy!” José screams, drops of spit flying from his mouth.
“Daddy, I didn’t do anything!” Erik sobs. Lyle stands in the corner of the room, crying, wanting to protect Erik, but too afraid to stand up to José.
A single curl has come out of its pin and now blows loose across Erik’s forehead. José yanks on it and holds it in front of his eyes. “Did you really think you could get away with this bullshit? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?!”
José’s hand is in the center of Erik’s chest, pressing him into the couch cushion, and the other tears the bobby pins out of his hair and throws them to the floor.
The scissors sweep over Erik’s forehead, and he feels the swift scatter of his hair as it falls onto his face. José hovers in his vision, hyperventilating, his eyes squinting.
“Well, now that is settled,” José finally says, standing up. Kitty is crying as she follows José upstairs. Erik waits for them to close their bedroom door before he goes to look in the bathroom mirror. An ugly fringe sticks out at his hairline.
“It’s okay, Erik,” Lyle says, coming up to hug him from behind. “It’ll grow back.”