Fortunes Told/ Hairs Cut

Before I left for Mexico I figured I would get a hair-cut.

Someone had recommended I see this lady about it. Turns out she wasn't much of a barber but a hell of a fortune teller. I got the address from a contact in the city who mainly deals with polish immigrates and intelligence from their network of resistant fighters. This particular contact thought I needed a little insight in to my future and subsequently a trim.

After a little wandering around the village I found the Barber pole hanging from a second story apartment above a sign that said Fortunes Read/ Hairs Cut. I walked up the stairs and was passed by some ladies leaving almost bald but for some rough tufts of hair sticking out of their heads. Is that what I'm in for I thought?

The room was like your typical Barber shop, mirrors, two barber chairs, a waiting area with magazines, chairs, a coat rack, and pictures of men's and women's hairstyles but here you couldn't pick your hairstyle. There was also a back room separated by a beaded curtain over which hung a sign in the shape of a hand with an eye in it reading Aggi the Psychic.

I sat in the chair supremely skeptical and afraid for my head. Aggi came out, she was a dressed in a peasant tunic and looked like she hadn't had a haircut for years herself. Steel gray and black pulled back into a wild ponytail that reached the back of her thick legs. She looked at me with indifference and said "You want haircut?"

"Yes- please."

She motioned with her strong arm that looked accustomed to hard manual labor whipping out a white smock she tightly fastened it around my throat. Trying to loosen it with my finger I said "Just a little off the sides." and she smacked my hand away and said "Sit still."

Hair collected on the floor and she clipped away taking random bites off my head. I blew the hair off my face and blinked to keep it out of my eyes. Out from behind a beaded curtain a little woman with a broom twice as big as herself and dressed similar to Aggi started to sweep the hair into piles at Aggi's feet .Then a high-pitched voice came from below me.

"You will be traveling." The voice was coming from the little lady sweeping the hair into piles around the chair.

"Yes, I plan too." I glanced down and saw here staring down into the small piles of hair.

"Don't move." the lady with the ham hock arms said and forced my head straight ahead.

"The trip you are taking will end abruptly. Be careful of a green woman and be on the lookout for an enemy who is really your ally. Your trip will be ultimately unsatisfying. Don't go into bad places alone."

By this point it was all pretty general stuff and my head was getting cut to shreds.

"Stay off of motorcycles. You have knowledge, you feel you can't divulge. Disappear, someone is looking for you... you should disappear."

Although I was almost completely bald by this point I wanted to hear what she said and let the rest of my hair get chopped off.

"You will have children. But soon you will have to..."

At that point she stopped.

"Have to what?" I said looking down at the lady as she swept up the remaining piles of hair and waddled back behind the beaded curtain.

"Hey, where's she going?"

"No more hair no more fortune." the thickset lady with the scissors grunted.

It was true my head was completely shore.

Mexico Night

  

     It turned gory that night in Mexico. Blood mixed with rain water pouring from the palm fronds and running along the concrete patio of the cantina. I wouldn’t have ordinarily minded a scene like this but it was my blood pouring so freely into the night. Just a minute ago I was drinking a cerveza with lime and smoking in my new guayabera shirt; now my head felt the rain but the blackness faded.  I was watching my life pour out, and I didn’t really mind, I actually felt quite comfortable head busted open face digging into the concrete patio.

            I rolled onto my side and looked into the placid saucer sized brown eyes of the little Mexican kid. He was frowning and looked scared. I pushed myself on to my knees. Someone had done a good job putting me down. There was a gash on the side of my head, unsteady as I stood I placed a hand to stauch the bleeding.

 “Hola Kid.”

     He just looked at me with what I guessed was concern, shock or just plain curiosity then ran inside crying.  I let myself drop back into the chair I had been sitting in when someone clocked me good with what must have been something hard and heavy. I looked at my shirt and it was rusty pink with blood, water and dirt. My beer didn’t spill so I took a long draught, lit a smoke and took a long drag.

 “Fuck…”

“Senor Gringo you OK”? The ladies in the kitchen were apparently too busy to see what happen while they were preparing an octopus in a large cast iron pot. I had watched them squeeze the ink from the things head. The giant pot of pulpo was simmering now, it smelt both garlicy and like the ocean. Now I had ink coming out of my head- red ink I was back in school the old mistake machine back in action.

     Why wouldn’t someone just finish me off?  The Kestrel wasn’t so crude as to caveman bash me on the side of the cranium, no I would be dead if it was him who wanted me dead.

      I had figured out why the Kestrel wanted me in Mexico though; I stuck out like a sore thumb down here, yeah I could get lost in Mexico,but  it was easy for anybody to find me. The local news spread quickly and information was cheap and easy to get. I quickly found it hard to assimilate; they looked at my blond hair and blue eyes and soon I was gringo, or Americano or whatever they called me. I didn’t have a grip on the language so relied on who ever I stayed with. I also knew who hit me lying beneath a palm tree like another jungle plant was a green hat shimmering like the surrounding jungle.

Bridges

"What is it with you and bridges?"

 I was cranky with a screaming tooth ache and it wasn’t getting any quieter. My whole head was wobbly with it and the whiskey I was nipping to keep the pain at bay.

“What’s the matter Mr. Farmer- don’t you like the scenery? Besides it’s easier to see who’s coming up on you. You can learn a lot from me Chuck.”  

"Yeah, right." This Kestrel guy was more irritating than ever.

We paced the bridge the wood slots making a creaking, satisfying noise as we crossed toward Manhattan.

"I saw your little post-script to your girlfriend."

"You are resourceful Kestrel."

“Did I ever tell you I was an engineer before the war? Good training for an intelligence man, figure out how the pieces work together. How you can eliminate unnecessary parts.” The Kestrel said with a grim smile.

"Listen you know as well as I, you need to get her out of there and the way I see it, they already know about her, they don't need me to tell them."

"Spit it out what do you want?'

"I need you to go to Mexico."

“I hear it’s just wonderful this time of year, I’ll send you a postcard. You are just hilarious Mr. Kestrel.” I took a drag from my cigarette and a pull from my whiskey.

"You don't get it; you could have compromised me Hombre, that’s Espanol by the way."

I glanced at him, threw my cigarette over the railing and stopped dead.  My head felt like it would cleave off leaving me half a head; I thought Shit I could be happy that way- if the pain stopped.

"What are you saying pal?"

"I’ll bring her to the U.S. but you cannot have any contact.”

""What makes you think I’m going to do that now?”

“I know what kind of ratchet you two had going on... what your plan was, I know who is a big fan, of your Ava de Fleur, or should I say Louisa Foerster. So this is the deal; you leave, not forever, just till this blows over, she in deference to you-  comes here to live but I can’t let you two communicate; too risky.”

"You don't understand. I was going to marry her. Where do you get off”?

“Very romantic; didn’t peg you for the romantic type. Maybe my reputation doesn't precede me. A year ago I would of just eliminated you both and been done with it but I like you Chuck. You remind me of myself in a way.”

I spun and grabbed the man by the throat shoved and held him just over the railing tenuously balancing him.

"WHAT makes you think I can't do the same to you right now”? The pain was too much.

"Mr. Farmer I have many tentacles, I have my eyes, ears, and talons in many places. You can let me fall into the river but your poor Ava won’t leave France; worse she won’t die in France she will die somewhere much much worse."

I let him back my head swimming with pain emotional and physical. I pulled out the flask of whiskey again and took two quick hits.

"The choice is yours Mr. Farmer, either you do as I say or...have it your way." he said as he turned pulling his overcoat up over his neck and face.... "You won’t be helping anyone especially Louisa or..."

“Or myself yeah right well…”

 “…Or that little bun she’s got in the oven.”