“Didn’t have much choice at the time.” Wayne glances over at Falk. “Not sure it was a wise choice though.”
Falk doesn’t acknowledge the look. It’s clear that Wayne isn’t too happy with Falk since his run-in with Brett last night. Owen and Brian seem to share the same feelings though I can’t really blame them. One thing is for sure—Falk’s plan worked. Brett hasn’t come near me all day, and most of the others are keeping their distance.
I’m glad for it, too. I’ve thought a lot about what Falk said, and I can’t deny that it makes sense. Without any kind of social order, people are going to argue over fulfilling their basic needs. I’m far more aware of how the men look at me today, and I can’t help but wonder exactly what they are thinking.
I’m afraid I know.
As the others head off in search of supplies, Falk continues working on the well. Wayne is far off to the side of the common area, not far from the well, though he doesn’t offer to help Falk. He’s got a long coil of rope that he’s been knotting to use with the well’s bucket.
The day goes by, and the temperature rises. Falk’s been working on the well non-stop, so I pour a large cup of water to take to him. As I walk up to the hole, Falk is climbing out of it, covered in mud.
“How’s it coming along?” I ask.
“Getting there,” he says. “The bottom is full of water, at least.”
“That’s the idea.”
“At least it’s fresh and clean.”
Falk tosses his hair out of his eyes, but it falls right back over his forehead. He pushes it away with his hand, obviously annoyed.
“Your hair is getting long,” I say.
“It’s driving me nuts.” He pushes it away again. “I need to do something with it.”
“Want me to cut it for you?”
“All I’ve got are those electric trimmers,” Falk says.
“Christine has hair scissors,” I tell him. “I can get those from her.”
“You know how to use those?”
“I’ve been known to cut hair every once in a while.” I smile at him.
He looks up at me, runs his hand over the top of his head, and nods.
“Yeah. All right. I need a break anyway.”
Falk gets situated by the cooking fire, and I borrow Christine’s scissors. Falk’s hair really isn’t all that long, but when I first met him, it had been very closely cut in standard military fashion. I’ve never attempted to do a flattop before, and I’m not sure if I can without trimmers, but I’m willing to give it a shot.
I smooth out the towel around his shoulders and go to work. The top is easy enough to get to the right length and doesn’t take long. The back and sides are a little harder to get even, but it turns out pretty well
by the time I’m done. I run my hand up the back of his head. It feels like a puppy’s fur.
“Having fun?” Falk peers up at me with a half grin.
“I like the way it feels,” I say with a shrug. “I’m all done. Want to take a look?”
He holds up the hand mirror and turns his head back and forth.
“Pretty good job,” he says. “Should I tip you?”
“You can tip me later,” I say with a wink.
His eyes go dark and he licks his lips.
“I’ll make note of that,” he says softly.