“Oh my god Julie, you should have seen it the other day!
“She looked like a rooster!”
Picturing Grandma with a gleaming silver mohawk makes me grin, but I’m also a little distressed.
Ten minutes ago my phone rang and “Trudis” flashed on the screen. I said hello to silence. Then coughing.
“Grandma! It’s Julie, are you there?
“Grandma! — Grandma!”
Silence. Faint breathing. Another cough. Slighter this time.
I’m afraid to hang up. I don’t want to break my connection with her. But she’s not responding —
So I call my sister.
“I’m serious,” she continues, “they’re down staff and a mad man’s got the comb —
“Yesterday, Alli and I were there and it was combed straight down. One long sweep from the back of her neck to her forehead.”
Premeditated, I think. Some kind of signature?
“And then, I go out into the TV area where they’re all lined up,” she stops to take a breath, “and you are never going to believe this —”
“Every last one of ’em — heads hangin’ down — with the same hair!”
I’m roaring now, imagining this joker armed with spray bottle and comb going down the assembly line. Just doin’ his job.
Efficient little devil.