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The Back Room

Marissa McQueen

A Short Story - Day 1



Dallas, Texas 1886


Ida's knees wobbled as she approached the barbershop door. Her father had been working there for most of her life, but she’d never been invited in. It was an establishment full of men, someplace she had no business being. That is, until that dry Texas morning. The sun was barely up, but she was already sweating. 


Mr. Maxwell was a kind man, but he was also white. That didn’t always bode well for black folks, but she had to take what was given.

Ida fought the growing knot in her stomach and pushed open the heavy wood door. It would have been better to go around to the back, but she didn’t want him to be surprised by her presence.


“Good morning Mr. Maxwell. Beautiful day out there, isn’t it.” Her voice didn’t sound real, but the old barber didn’t seem to notice. He set his newspaper down and looked at her. Didn’t smile, but didn’t frown either. Just took note.


“It’s going to be a scorcher, but what else is new. Is there something I can do for you?”


They were alone in the shop, something she was grateful for, until the front door pushed open behind her. Mr. Maxwell’s son, William entered, and waited for her to speak.


“My father is ill. He won’t be able to come in today,” Ida said. The older Mr. Maxwell nodded and almost returned to his paper, but she spoke again.


“I’m here to take his place. That is, if you don’t mind.”


William laughed, but Mr. Maxwell’s brow furrowed. “What do you know about cutting hair?”


“I know everything. My father taught me everything he knows. At least when it comes to colored hair.” She warmed under Mr. Maxwell’s glare, but didn’t melt. Instead, she waited for him to say no. If he didn’t, she’d march to the back and set everything up for the day. Her family needed the money and she wanted to eat.


“I bet you can’t cut my hair.” William moved next to his father's side and studied her. She’d think him handsome with his light hair and slim frame, but his mouth rattled like an old engine.


“I’d give you the best trim you ever had,” Ida countered. They had to be about the same age, but she couldn’t be for sure. They lived in different neighborhoods and attended different schools.


Mr. Maxwell cleared his throat, stopping the two from talking. “I don’t want any trouble today. If you start crying, you can’t never come back.”


“I don’t cry, Mr. Maxwell.” Ida gave him a half-curtsey and moved quickly to the back half of the shop. William questioned his father about letting her stay, but she didn’t wait around to hear his answer. She was apt to hear something that would hurt her feelings and there wasn’t any time to waste on emotions.


If the visitors were shocked to see her standing behind the chair, they didn’t react. The morning was a flurry of activity, the rickety back door opening and shutting. Mr. Maxwell had his customers that he took up front in the cool, decorated part of the shop. His customers enjoyed the red and white tiled floors and cushioned barber chair. Ida and her father, when he was there, worked in what felt like a back porch, in a wood chair. Still, the men came.


They greeted her respectfully knowing she’d report back to her father. 


Just before five in the evening, when she was ready to close up, William peeked his head through the doorway separating the real barbershop from the back where she’d been toiling all day. If he was showing his face, Mr. Maxwell must have gone for the day.


Ida's hair felt matted to her forehead, and she could smell the sweat through her dress, but she gave William a tired smile.


“I’m here to get my haircut,” he said.


“Go on, William. You’re trying to get me in trouble.” Ida placed her hand on the front pocket of her apron, pressing the money she’d made a little closer. 


“No I’m not. I just want to see if you’ve been joshing this entire time.” He sat down in her chair, adjusting until he found a comfortable position. 


“Go on then. Make me look perfect.”


Ida pulled out her scissors and moved closer, finding comfort in his sudden appearance. “I think you already look perfect, but how much do you want me to take off?”


“You think I look perfect?” William turned around and met her eyes, his gaze burning a hole through her. He seemed like he could read her thoughts, like he knew she thought him attractive. 


Ida giggled at the flirtation, knowing both their fathers would have a hissy fit knowing the two of them were back there together unsupervised. Neither of their fathers were there though.


“How much do you want me to take off?”


“Just do what you think is best.”


Ida snipped. She combed with precision. With the most focus she could muster, she cut William’s hair shorter and shorter until she declared herself done. William told her stories of his life in the front of the shop while she worked. Her hands shook when she handed him the little corner of looking glass to admire his reflection. He laughed, handed the mirror back and pulled out a dime from his front pocket.


“Ida, this looks terrible. I’m going to have to fix it, but thank you. I just wanted to come back here and spend some time with you. Would it be alright if I come back here the next time you’re here?”


All she had to do was tell him no. She needed to focus and wasn’t there to make friends, especially with a white boy. 


“I’d like that. I’m not sure when I’ll come back,” she answered.


“Don’t worry, I’ll be looking for you everyday.”



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