There’s a real intimacy to washing someone else’s hair. No, I’m not talking about at the salon, where it’s part of the assembly line of having...your hair done; bent backwards over the sink, efficient hands wetting, shampooing, rinsing and parceling up in a towel. Just like they do a couple of dozen other people every day. Oh, I never object to having my scalp massaged; it’s part of the joy of having it styled, rather than the dry cut and dryer conversation of a barber.But there’s much more. " It's different with me." Is that what she told you?" You have to trust me," sighed Nadia."I did. Remember?" Joanna dropped her bags. "I trusted you to not callher. I trusted you to keep your distance. I trusted you to keep us safe.You betrayed me."Nadia didn't say anything for a while. Part of her wished Joanna wasangrier. She wished Joanna would just yell at her. If it was a fight, atleast she could get angry in response. But this gentle resignation, thissoft acceptance, was worse than any. More

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