The conversation got no further, for the door opened suddenly, and in with a rush came Anna, a former workmate of Jennie’s at the call centre down the street, now merely a mournful abandoned shell slept in by vagrants.
“Oh, Jennie, Jennie!’ she called, oblivious to her friend’s labours over a customer in her chair. “Hi, Raymond. Guess what Ottawa’s gone and done?” It was in Anna’s nature to make a theatrical entrance, often by denouncing the fount of all evil, the federal government in the nation’s capital, and it was in Jennie’s nature to attend to business first, but her client, a good-looking man of military bearing whom Jennie had assumed was a colonel, turned his head enquiringly in Anna’s direction. Thus encouraged, Anna continued. “Yes, it’s true. But let me sit down first. Gotta get my breath back. Didja see Michelle, you know, the one with all the eye make-up, at the Salad-in- Bar last week?”
“No. How is she?”
“She has a cute baby. Coffee like his dad.”
“She has a baby?” Jennie’s eyes were wide with wonder.
“Yes. Two now. Boy and a girl. Different dads, though.”
“Oh, wow! How does she manage?”
Anna shrugged. “She gets by. Her mom helps. You do what you have to, don’t you?”
Jennie turned back to her colonel, and changed the subject. “What’s Ottawa done now?”
“I read it in the Sun. On the bus. I got it somewhere here.” And she fumbled without success in her purse. “No, must a left it on the bus…” And then, portentously, with emphasis ,”They’re not gonna allow reths at the War Memorial in Ottawa. On Remembering Day. Can you believe that? I can’t believe that!” But she obviously had.
The salon was listening attentively. Only the sound of snipping scissors could be heard. The floor was Anna’s. She was making the most of it.
“They died for us.” A pregnant pause. Her voice rose dramatically. “They died! Those shoulders. For us. And this is how we treat them. Well, I don’t!. And I hope all of you don’t.” She looked around. “I’m all shook up. I’m teared up. “ She reached for a Kleenex on the counter. A gulp became a sob. The barbers continued their work. The colonel and the panhandler continued to stare at themselves in the mirror, neither catching the other’s eye. The waiting customers showed no reaction. Jennie sent a commiserating sorrowful glance in Anna’s direction.
“They don’t want the reths. They don’t want the memories. They don’t care. And all those men died. I can’t get over it.” The snuffling continued before it was smothered in a suffocated snort as she blew her nose, and then, as if suspecting her turn had come to an end, “I need a drink of water,” Anna left the stage and disappeared around the corner. In the ensuing silence, the sound of running water harmonized with the buzz of electric clippers.
