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Luda Mae has always said that it’s a lost cause to try to clean Tommy. That’s what I was thinking about as I sat on the couch of the rundown house in the middle of Texas. Everyone but Tommy and I were out of the house, having gone to visit some family for the holiday season.
Hoyt was reluctant to leave Tommy and me alone in the house, but Luda Mae, or mama as she insisted I call her, assured him that the two of us were good kids. And she was right. In the three days they’ve been gone, I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of the big man I live with. Worry has started to eat at the back of my mind. Has he been eating? I’ve left food out for him each night, but there hasn’t been much evidence to show that he’s been eating any of it.
At the moment, I had finished my chores hours ago, now watching a cartoon on the TV in the sitting room while I wait for the soup I had put on to finish cooking. While it wasn’t my first choice, the only other options I had were news channels. I had to admit, the singing was kinda catchy, no matter how odd the evil queen's reasoning to kill the girl was. I was so engrossed in the story to register the heavy footsteps coming up the basement stairs. I only realized someone was there when I felt eyes boring into the back of my skull. I turn around, immediately being greeted with the sight of Thomas Hewitt. He’s covered in blood and, for once in a blue moon, wearing the mask that only covers the bottom half of his face.
“Thomas! Glad I finally decided to join me.”
Tommy only grunts in response. Slowly, he moves to the other side of the couch. My hand shoots to stop him, not wanting him to drip blood onto the carpet; lord knows Mama would have my head if I let her carpet get dirty.
“Wait, wait, wait. I need to get cleaned up first. Don’t want to get in trouble because I got blood all over the house,” I explain, not wanting to hurt his feelings or make him feel like I don’t want him here. I do, really I do. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind, and I’m sure I must have a mischievous smile on my face, given the look Tommy gives me.
“How about I help you clean up?” I offer innocently.
Tommy cocks his head in confusion. He shakes his head and starts to stomp off down the hall. I spring up from the couch, jumping over the back of it to run after him.
“I don’t mean to be rude. I just wanna help.” I run up behind him, looking at the back of his matted hair. “You’ll feel better!” He stops. I take a deep breath, hoping that he’ll finally let me take care of the rats' nest on his head.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I just wanna help you wash your hair. That’s all. And if you decide you want me to stop at any point, I will. I’ll go right back to watching my show, and I could join you if you want.” I added the last part hopefully, getting tired of being alone in such a big house.
Tommy turns slowly, looking at me over his shoulder. He looks me up and down, trying to figure out if I was lying. After what feels like forever, he turns toward the stairs. I follow him, assuming that he is heading towards the bathroom.
I let the water run for a moment, waiting for the rusted faucet to spout clean water. Tommy sits behind me, watching over my shoulder.
“How do we want to do this?” I say quietly to myself. I doubt he’ll get naked in front of me, but I also think it would be best to wash all of him, not just his hair. I turn around after putting the stopper in the drain, my back pressed against the porcelain of the tub. I cross my arms over my chest as I think. Tommy stares back at me, his shaggy hair draping over his face.
“You know you’re gonna have to take that off,” I say quietly, looking at the mask that covers his face.
Tommy’s eyes set hard, as if he might gut me for even thinking about making him take off the mask.
“It’ll make things easier. You can hold the mask in place if you want. I just don't want to snag it when I brush your hair.” I hold up my hands, trying to get him to understand my reasoning.
Tommy’s gaze softens a little. Hesitantly, his hands come up to the back of his head, untying the strings that hold his mask in place. I turn around, knowing he wouldn’t want me to see if the mask were to slip. I busy myself with checking the temperature of the water, making sure it’s not too hot before I turn the faucet off. I turn back around, my eyes glued to the floor.
The first thing I notice is that Tommy’s mask is cradled in his hands on his lap. Not on his face. My mouth falls open slightly in shock. He actually took it off?
I stand, grabbing a hairbrush off the sink.
“You… you can turn your head. I gotta brush your hair first. It’ll only get worse if I get it wet now,” I say softly, afraid to talk too loudly. Tommy takes a moment to shift to the side. Was he expecting me to look? Did he want me to? I allow my eyes to wander higher once I know he has his back turned to me. His hair is just as bad as I thought it was, with an obvious indent in his hair where the strings of his masks normally rest. Hesitantly, I rest one of my hands on his shoulder, the other guiding the brush to run through the ends of his hair.
The brush almost immediately snags. I breathe in quickly, apologizing.
“Shit, sorry, Tommy.” But he doesn't even flinch. His body is tense; it’s hard to tell if he’s even breathing. My thumb absently rubs against his shoulder as I try again, starting further down his hair this time.
It takes what feels like hours before I finally finish brushing his hair. His hair is longer than I had originally thought it was, now going slightly past his shoulders.
“Your hair looks so nice now, Tommy.” I run my hand through his hair. He seems to lean back into my touch, but I must be imagining that.
“Now! How do we wanna wash your hair? I can have you lean over the side of the tub, or you can just get in.” I turn, setting the brush back on the sink counter.
When I turn back around, I’m met face to face with Thomas’s chest. My eyes widen, and I quickly look down.
If I were to look up, I would have noticed the sad little frown on Tommy’s face.
I don’t have time to react before Tommy kicks off his heavy boots and gets into the tub, still fully clothed. My mouth falls open in shock.
“Tommy!” His now-brushed hair covers his face as I stare at him in shock. He won’t look at me, and instead busies himself with moving his hand in the water, watching the ripples move. I sigh, running a hand down my face. I roll up my sleeves, grab a cup, and dip it in the water.
“Lean your head back,” I say softly. I wait for him to do as I ask before I brush his hair off his forehead. I place my hand on his forehead as I tip the cup, letting the water run through his hair. I do all of this while keeping my eyes away from the bottom half of his face. We all have something we don’t want others knowing, seeing, and I’m not about to ruin whatever moment we are having by breaking what little trust he is putting in me.
The water runs almost black down his back, years of built-up grim washing away. How the hell did Luda Mae let him get this bad? I dip the cup again, getting more water to run through his hair. Once that is done, I pick up the shampoo, squirting a little into my palm before I rub it into his hair.
“You’re being so calm,” I mumble. “I figured you would fight me more.”
Tommy hasn’t moved an inch since he leaned his head back. From the corner of my eye, I can see his gray eyes staring at me. It makes me a little nervous to have him watching me so intently.
“What?” I ask quietly. “Do I have something on my face?” I chuckle lightly as I get more water, washing out the soap from his hair. Tommy just grunts in response.
“Just one last thing,” I say quietly. I grab some leave-in conditioner, no doubt taken from some woman who was turned into dinner, and put a little into my palm. I run the conditioner through the ends of his hair.
“Alright, all done.” I stand up, grabbing a towel to dry off my hands. I turn around, noticing that Tommy is still in the water.
“If you want to take a bath, I can run new water for you. Lord knows that water is already way too dirty.” The water was actually a dirty brown color. “You’d… also have to get undressed,” I add quietly. Tommy grunts. Ok then.
“I’ll step out so you can get cleaned up. If your hair isn’t dry by then, I can dry it for you,” I offer as I begin to back out of the bathroom, making sure to keep my eyes down. I can feel Tommy’s eyes on me as I leave, the door shutting behind me.
A different cartoon is playing on the TV now, some coyote chasing a roadrunner. I chuckle as the anvil the coyote was using to catch the roadrunner instead drops onto his head. I sit curled up on the couch, watching the TV for a while before I hear Tommy stomping down the stairs. I turn around in time to see him stop in the doorway to the sitting room. He seems to have changed into another button-up shirt and pants, his clothes now dry. His hair drapes over his face, dripping wet. In his hands is a towel and his mask. I smile, watching as he worries the mask in his hands.
“Com’ere, Tommy. I’ll dry your hair for you.” I pat the space on the floor in front of me. Tommy shuffles closer, his eyes trained on the ground as he sits down on the floor between my legs. I take the towel from him and start to dry off his hair. It’s softer now, and my fingers can run through it.
“Your hair looks so nice now,” I say to him. He doesn’t seem to hear me as he watches the movie playing on the screen. It’s almost cute how he seems so enamored with the moving pictures. His hair is pretty much dry by now, so I just lean back, running my hand through his hair. I watch the TV, only looking down when I feel Tommy move.
When I look down, I am greeted with a pair of gray eyes staring back at me. But it’s not just that. I can see all of his face, the scarring that covers his cheeks and lips, and… is his nose missing? I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. He’s so handsome. I smile down at him.
“Your hair’s all dry,” I say softly. Tommy’s eyes stare back up at me, watching, waiting. He looks like he’s waiting for me to look disgusted. But all I do is smile and continue to run my hand through his hair.
“Mama’s gonna be so happy when she sees you’re all cleaned up.” Tommy just hums, leaning his head back into my lap as we watch the TV.