I applied a small amount of oil to the affected ends and worked patiently with my fingers, separating the strands instead of tugging at them.
The slime began to loosen.
A little more oil, a little more patience, and another section came free.
Brittany stared.
“Oh, my God.”
“Patience,” I reminded her. “It is a useful skill.”
I had raised three children. One of them had once managed to get chewing gum tangled in nearly half his hair after falling asleep with it in his mouth.
Compared with that, this was a manageable problem.
We worked slowly, using napkins to remove the residue and keeping the hair from sticking to itself.
Kelly returned with a small towel and some additional supplies.
She looked at the scene in front of her: Brittany sitting quietly, me carefully separating strands of blonde extensions, and Harold watching as though he had purchased a ticket to the most unusual performance of his life.
