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“Lyla, we need your help so badly right now!” Ransom begged. His sister sauntered into the room. They were in Canada, staying with Ransom’s parents for Canada Day.
“And what can I do for you brother dear?” She asked with a smile. Ransom and Holster were sitting with a brush, comb, several hair-ties, and Jemma between them. They were both staring at her head, looking defeated. Her curls were getting longer and neither of them had any clue how to deal with them.
“How do we do her hair?” Holster asked helplessly. Lyla laughed.
“Oh, you poor sad pitiful boys.” She muttered. “How do you survive?”
“It’s not our fault we know nothing about hair!” Ransom muttered, “We’re dudes! And both of us have always kept our hair short. And Holster’s white. How on earth is he supposed to know what to do with an afro?” He added. Holster smiled at him, grateful for the defense. She just sighed.
“Okay, I’ll help you today, after that though, you need to learn for yourself.” Lyla told them.
“Come here, Jems.” She murmured, sitting down next to them. She showed them how to do a few simple hairstyles, and left Jemma’s hair tied up in a bun. She took Jemma with her to go play leaving Ransom and Holster with a laptop and youtube.
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“This is way more complicated than it should be.” Holster muttered, struggling as he attempted to imitate a video on a doll that Lyla had managed to procur for them.
“No kidding.” Ransom agreed, clicking back so Holster could see the step again. “And these are supposed to be the simple ones.”
“Wait! I think I got it.” Holster said, holding his hands perfectly still. “Okay play the next part.” Ransom let the video play. A few seconds later Holster swore so loudly that Ransom’s mother padded down the hallway to see what the two of them were up to.
She was surprised to see them still hunched over the laptop, studying endless videos of people demonstrating various hairstyles, muttering various commentary to each other as they occasionally tried to imitate the styles on the doll. It had been hours since Lyla had set them at it. She smiled to herself and left them to it. Those two were always above and beyond when it came to their daughter, she had no doubt they would probably be experts in every type of hairstyle she could possibly want soon enough.
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“Jemma, sit still darling.” Holster pleaded with his daughter.
She was clearly not pleased. Still he managed to finish her braids and wind a hair tie that had sparkly poof-balls at the end onto the last of them. He had been wrangling her hair long enough that he had become an expert in fixing it into a decent style despite his daughter’s squirmy-ness. Jemma spun her hair and giggled when she caught sight of the hair ties. Holster smiled at her. Jemma was not always the most patient when it came to doing her hair, but she was always so pleased by the results that it made it all worth it. Holster let her hop off the stool he’d had her sit on, knowing she would go straight to Ransom to show her daddy her ‘new head.’
It was one of the little things that had become a part of their lives. Holster would put Jemma’s hair into a new hairstyle, and she would eagerly go to show Ransom. In the beginning they had tried switching off who did Jemma’s hair but had quickly discovered that Holster was simply better at it. Jemma had insisted that Papa was the only one allowed to do her hair. Jemma was rather particular about things sometimes. Certain jobs were only permitted to one or the other of them. Daddy was the only one allowed to read stories (“You don’t do the voices right Papa!”). Holster was a little miffed by that but comforted himself with the fact that he was the only one allowed to sing lullabys to their daughter. Ransom maintained that he had a perfectly nice singing voice. Holster maintained that his was better. No one with the exception of Uncle Bitty was allowed to touch Jemma’s Bunny (simply named Bun). Ransom and Holster always had to make breakfast together on the weekends, and they all sat in their particular chairs at meals. These little traditions, habits and rules were what made their life so distinctively theirs. Somehow the fact that he had a special spot at his kitchen table, and other little traditions that were known only to his family, made Holster’s chest warm with happiness. It was like their life had started off the way a new pair of shoes did. A new shoe is generic until you wear it down, but eventually it fits your foot perfectly. Life was the same, they had started with a generic two parents, one kid, a home etc sort of life, it was the little things that made it theirs.