Chapter Text
The weight of growing up in Gilead would not leave her mind all at once. It'd probably take her whole life, to be honest.
Today, though, at least six ounces of it hit the floor of a salon in Canada.
The hairstylist has her hands in Becka's hair, shaking out the last bits of snipped strands that hadn't fallen yet. She spins Becka around, allowing her to finally see herself. The new her.
"Alright, so what do you think?" she asks.
Becka stares at herself in the mirror, taking in her now exposed neck and collarbones. Her mouth opens in wonder as she stares at her reflection. Her hands come up to grab at the nape of her neck, feeling the exposed skin below and the goosebumps that trail behind her fingers as they explore.
She's never felt so… human before. Gilead had a way of making you feel like you had no control over your own body. This is the first time she's ever felt like a decision about her own appearance was hers.
"I.. I don't even know what to say," Becka gasps, feeling her eyes sting with unshed tears. She shakes her head in disbelief.
"Thank you. I love it."
"You're welcome, kid. Ya look great." The stylist says, removing the styling cape from around Becka's shoulders and giving her a reassuring pat before moving to clean up.
Becka can't even bring herself to get up from the salon chair. She's too caught up in examining herself.
She looks good, she thinks.
The length is about three inches above her shoulders, a classic curtain cut parted down the middle. She still can't believe she did this.
It was a spontaneous decision, really.
Becka had been out at a bookstore, enjoying her newfound ability to actually read, looking for books that would pique her interest, when a boy had approached her.
"Hi." He spoke softly and shakily, as if he were about three seconds away from a nervous breakdown just from the act of walking over to speak to her.
Becka looks up from the book she's trying to read the summary for (still a work in progress), a little bit startled.
"Oh. Hello." She replies, eyes wide and confused. She instinctively shrinks back a little, her body still not used to the fact that she's no longer in Gilead even after two years.
Becka still isn't sure that therapy is something that actually works.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother. Just wanted to let you know that I like your long hair, it's very pretty." The boy mumbles, almost under his breath.
He awkwardly gestures toward her hair, his face reddening rapidly by the second.
He clearly hadn't meant anything malicious by it. It was a simple compliment, something kind and normal to say to someone to make their day a little brighter. If he had said it to anyone else and not Becka, it probably really would have made them smile.
But Becka isn't normal. She knows that.
She lived the majority of her life completely differently from the people here.
The boy's compliment hung between them in the air, and all of a sudden Becka felt like she was suffocating.
She didn't answer him. How could she? Her throat felt constricted, as if the words were physically blocking her airway.
As it turns out, the process of unlearning a survival mechanism from a society where the punishment for giving a man the wrong reaction ranged from losing an appendage to being strung up on a wall was quite long and difficult.
Instead of responding, Becka just dropped the book she was holding, let it thud onto the thin carpet of the bookstore, turned on her heel and walked away as fast as she could.
She didn't look back at him, unable to make herself do anything but get away. She busted through the doors of the bookstore, gasping for air like she'd just emerged from water. She doubled over, put her hands on her knees to steady herself and ignored concerned glances thrown her way by the people around her.
Her legs started moving themselves. She remembered a barbershop Daisy had pointed out to her one day, telling her that she should go and make herself look the way she wants after Becka had expressed that she still hadn't felt in control.
"A lot of people say that hair can hold bad memories, you know? Maybe it could help," Daisy echoed in her mind.
She reached behind her head and took a few strands of her hair between her fingers, twirled them around and thought about how her hair probably holds some of the worst memories of them all. She thought about the good memories, too.
Would those also be cut off along with the bad ones?
("Everything is gonna be okay."
"I know. Because you're here.")
Becka squeezed her eyes shut to force herself out of her own head. It was time to leave it all behind. Good and bad.
She doesn't feel the same anyways.
Becka exhaled, steadying herself.
Sometimes Daisy can give okay advice, I guess…
When Becka had finally felt like she was inside of her own body again, she was standing in front of the barbershop. She took in a deep breath, and before her nerves could change her mind, she grabbed the door handle and made her way inside.
As happy as she is right now, her chest still tightens at the thought of.. well.. her seeing Becka like this. What she would think about the haircut.
Would she think it's stupid? That I should have kept it long?
Would she think I'm weird for wanting it this short?
Becka decides she'll torture herself with thoughts of Hannah later when she gets home and inevitably sees her. For right now, Becka chooses to be happy.
She stands up from the salon chair and makes her way outside, remembering how nervous she'd been upon entering this building as she pushes herself out of it. She feels brand new when she's outside, now able to feel the cool air on the back of her neck. She runs her hand all the way through her hair, smiling to herself as she begins walking aimlessly around the city, just to do it while feeling like an actual human being for the first time in her life.
The hair that was cut off didn't weigh that much at all in reality, but to Becka it feels like twelve fucking tons have just been lifted from her shoulders.
A part of her can't wait for Hannah to see, a part of her is eager for her reaction, whether it's good, indifferent, or bad. She decides she's ready to find out regardless.
Becka begins the trek back to the house she shares with Hannah, her mother June, Daisy, and Shunnamite. They'd lived together for a little over two years now, and Becka couldn't be happier. She got to spend all her time with Hannah, and sure, it comes at the cost of having to tolerate Daisy (whom she secretly values greatly as a friend. Daisy can't know that though.) but overall, it's wonderful.
Until it isn't.
Being in such close proximity to Hannah at all times feels like being blasted by a ray of pure, warm sunshine and happiness, but it also feels like being tortured.
She thinks about how Hannah's eyes squeeze happily as she stretches her arms out in the morning when Becka gently wakes her up (the girl never hears her alarm).
Thinks about how Hannah always notices when she's quiet and in her own head.
Thinks about how Hannah climbs into her bed at night when the nightmares get bad and holds her, knows exactly what to say to wake her up and bring her back to the present.
("Becka.. I'm right here, okay? You're safe. I've got you. Come back to me.")
Thinks about how brightly she'd smiled when they'd gone to play with puppies at a nearby shelter, The look on her face as she held the tiny creature up, looking like the happiest person to have ever walked the planet.
Remembers the way Hannah loves those cheesy romance movies, the guy doing anything for his one true love and all that.
Becka thinks about how she always feels like the guy in those movies.
Becka loves Hannah. Like, love loves her. A lot. In a way that consumes her, actually. She's loved her for as long as she could remember. Even before she realized that the kind of love she held for Hannah was a crime. Something that could get her killed if she were to ever be found out.
She still has a hard time remembering that things aren't like that here, that she's allowed to be herself without fear of punishment.
It doesn't make loving Hannah any easier, though.
The person who was all she's ever wanted was right here, right next to her, mere feet away at any given moment and she could do nothing about it.
They had never talked about it, but Becka was sure that the kiss they'd shared before her wedding was only a farewell meant to comfort her. Maybe Hannah thought she'd never see her again, and Becka was so obvious about her feelings that Hannah had decided to pity her and let Becka kiss her as a parting gift. That's something she'd do. She's just kind like that.
So, Becka did not allow herself the privilege of thinking that the kiss was somehow romantic and that Hannah returned her feelings. The pain she would feel from being rejected and ruining their friendship would destroy her.
As she walks, Becka continuously runs her hands through her hair, still unable to process the fact that a lot of it has been cut off.
The closer she gets to home, the tighter her chest feels. She's nervous.
She tries her hardest to be composed, to be confident, to not start making this all about her.
It's a big step for Becka as a person, the first time she's ever done something like this to her appearance by her own choice. It's about way more than just her sandbox crush on Hannah.
She feels like Hannah's a pretty big part of it right now, though, because she's now frozen in front of the door to her shared house, unable to turn the handle and make her way inside because she's too busy trying to imagine what Hannah's face will look like when she sees her.
You're hopeless, Becka. Absolutely Hopeless.
Becka sighs to herself, pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger, and turns the handle slowly.
When she walks inside, it's dark, but she hears the TV playing quietly, so she knows someone's in there. It's usually Daisy and Hannah. Their favorite activity in this world is watching raunchy reality TV, something Daisy immediately insisted on introducing to Hannah after they settled into the house.
Becka steels herself in preparation for both of their reactions, even more nervous now.
She takes off her coat and hangs it by the door, exhaling quietly and walking further into the house, towards the living room. Her hands shake with anticipation, feeling clammy as she clenches them.
Becka sees her as soon as she turns the corner.
She's already looking at her, as if she knew it was Becka entering the house and was already prepared to greet her.
She's curled up on the couch next to Daisy, wrapped up in a sailor moon throw blanket, looking at her with those big brown eyes, the ones Becka loses herself in all the time.
Hannah sits up suddenly, causing Daisy to look over at Becka as well.
"Holy shit."
"Becka?"
Hannah and Daisy speak at the same time, both jumping off the couch and speeding over to her.
"I kinda.. cut my hair?" Becka says slowly, unsurely, as she watches Hannah make her way over to her.
"Yeah, we can see that," Daisy says, grabbing at the strands curled up around the nape of her neck.
"It looks really good, man. I like it. Looks more like you."
Becka can't help but smile just a little bit at that, she feels a lot like herself too.
Becka rolls her eyes and gently slaps Daisy's hand away.
"Yeah, whatever. Thanks." She replies, still smiling.
She finally gathers the courage to look over at Hannah and her breath gets caught in her lungs when she does.
She's staring so hard, her eyes wide and sparkling and her mouth dropped open a little.
"You.. Becka.. It's great! I-"
Hannah cuts herself off mid-sentence, just staring at Becka, eyes dancing around and examining every new feature now visible and more accentuated by Becka's short hair.
Becka's stomach drops.
Fuck. She hates it.
It's so bad she doesn't even know what to say.
"It's fine if you don't like it." Becka says quickly, looking down at her feet to avoid the burning embarrassment she can already feel turning her face red.
"What?"
"Uh.. the haircut."
Hannah just blinks at her, clearly confused.
"Why wouldn't i like it? It suits you."
"Oh."
Daisy scoffs loudly from beside them.
"Oh my god, you're doing that shit again, Becka."
"What? What shit?" Becka asks her defensively, crossing her arms.
"Assuming the worst."
"I don't always assume the worst."
Daisy and Becka both just stare at her silently.
Becka uncrosses her arms, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of her neck nervously.
"Whatever. Not always."
Hannah looks down with a smile, clearly trying not to laugh.
"Yeah, okay dude." Daisy says, smacking her in the shoulder and returning to her spot on the couch.
Becka's face instantly gets warm as soon as she's left standing with just Hannah. She looks over to see that she's just smiling at her.
Like, really smiling. And looking at her.
Becka feels herself become hyper aware of her own appearance, suddenly shy and embarrassed.
"It really does look good, you know?" Hannah says quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of Becka's hair behind her ear.
Becka's breath stills.
"Thanks."
"It looks like you. Real you."
Becka feels something hopeful twist inside of her chest, but she quickly pushes it down.
"Can I feel it?" Hannah asks, reaching a hand out to hover above Becka's head, waiting there for permission.
Becka swallows hard, willing herself to be normal at the prospect of Hannah making any kind of contact with her right after she just tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
How am I supposed to be normal?
Even though they're allowed to be best friends (and even more) in this place, Becka still can't seem to stop her body from going into overdrive anytime she feels Hannah's touch. It still feels electric, like Becka could power an entire neighborhood with one hand hold.
"Yeah, of course."
Hannah reaches down and runs her hand through Becka's short strands, grabbing a few and twirling them around between her fingers.
"It's soft. I like it." She says with that cute little side smile that makes Becka want to run through a wall.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Becka feels like a live wire. Like any sudden move could send her collapsing to the floor. This is too much for her heart. Her chest feels like it's on the verge of collapsing.
Daisy eyes the two of them from her spot on the couch suspiciously.
Watches how Hannah places both hands on either side of Becka's head, cradling her as she reassures her once again that she likes her haircut.
She rolls her eyes and groans, shaking her head and focusing her attention back to the TV.
Fucking hopeless. Idiots.