I look at the kids as they munch their fries. No, I can’t take them with me to Hawaii. It’s too soon for them to meet Kai or even know about him. I like Kai, and I love spending time with him, but I’m not sure he’s ready for a woman with kids.

Maybe I’ll just go one of the weekends Daniel has the kids. He can keep them an extra night or two. I’ve already got Lisa in the afternoons. It’s not as if he can’t come to my house and pick up the kids from Lisa once he’s done working.

I book the ticket and hotel and don’t tell anyone. I’m not leaving for a couple of weeks. It’s no one’s business where I go or when.

Less than a week before I leave, I go see Michelle, my hairdresser, for a cut. My color’s good, just had that done, but I could use a trim.

I’ve been seeing Michelle for nearly ten years. She’s the one who made me a redhead, and I’d go anywhere she worked. I’m such a fan that gradually over the years all my friends have begun going to her, and thankfully, she doesn’t make us all look the same. Nic’s hair has gotten shorter, darker. Mine is long and red. Anne’s is just above her shoulders and different shades of honey cut in thick, choppy waves. Kristine’s hair is the one that always changes. I don’t think she knows if she wants to be a serious brunette or a more playful blonde.

“You’ve got some spa appointments, too, today,” Michelle says, wrapping the drape around my shoulders and attaching the Velcro at the back.

“Thought I’d get everything done at once.”

“Including that Brazilian wax.”

My cheeks get hot and I cross my legs, suddenly fidgety. “Thought I’d try it once.”

“Yeah?” She puts her hands on my shoulders. “All that hair going-going-gone?”

I close my eyes, not really wanting to think about all that hair going-going-gone, but Kai says that’s what the girls do in Hawaii. Totally bare down there.

I take a breath, open my eyes. “You’ve had Brazilians—”

“I haven’t.”

“Come on. You work in a salon/spa.”

“I do my own grooming.”

“You wax yourself?”

“I don’t let anyone touch me down there.”

I think it’s funny we have these intimate conversations with our hairdresser, but this relationship has evolved over ten years. Michelle isn’t just my hairdresser, she’s my image maker. My confidence builder. My guru for self-esteem. Michelle makes it possible for me to look like other women—compete with other women. Because God knows it is often about status, and since my divorce I’ve lost a great deal of status. I need whatever help I can get.