Two Millimeters, One Hug, and Some Very Nice Compliments

When I've finished trimming Gerrit's hair, I gently run my hand over his scalp to make sure I haven't missed any stray hairs. That still happens here and there. And when I do it, I always go a little slower and a little longer than strictly necessary. Simply because I can tell it makes Gerrit so happy.

Whenever I'm in Amsterdam, Gerrit calls me. Gerrit is a man in his seventies who has used a wheelchair for many years, much longer than I've known him, and I've known him for about ten. The reason he calls is that I trim his hair with clippers. He always wants it two millimeters "long." He used to do it himself, but he hasn't been able to for a long time now.

Gerrit has a bit of a secret crush on me. For about five years now, I've gotten a message from him every Valentine's Day. And every once in a while he'll say things like, "I'd love to go on vacation with you sometime." Thankfully, he says it in a way that makes it clear he's only giving voice to his dreams and fantasies.

Yesterday, Gerrit poured his heart out.

Normally he texts me to set up an appointment while I'm still in Sicily. This time I'd been in Amsterdam for weeks before I heard from him. I'd started to worry, because Gerrit's health is very poor. So when I saw him, I told him so.

"Then you must be at least a little bit crazy about me," Gerrit said. "Otherwise you wouldn't worry."

I gave his shoulder a little squeeze. That way I had nothing to deny and nothing to confirm.

"Let's get to work," I said.

I put the barber's cape on him and had an idea: "I'm going to stand in front of you and take off my glasses. See if you notice anything different about my face." Secretly, I'd hoped he would see that something was different, but not what. That way it looks more natural. But no, he saw exactly what was going on. "You got your eyebrows done," Gerrit said. I did, in fact, have them tattooed, semi-permanent makeup.

"I suddenly feel like kissing you!" said Gerrit.

I could see he meant it. It wasn't a joke; it was his desire talking. Honestly, I liked hearing it. It made me feel like someone found me attractive.

"And did you do something different with your hair, too?" Gerrit asked.

I told him I'd let it down for once. In Amsterdam I usually wear it in a bun, for convenience.

"That's so pretty, too," said Gerrit.

When I had my coat on and was about to head out the door, Gerrit stretched out his arms to me and asked, "Would you give me a hug, please?" "Of course," I said, and I gave him a big, firm hug. "Tell you what, I'll give you a little kiss, too," I said, and I kissed his forehead. Gerrit's eyes sparkled, and I said, "Thank you for the lovely compliments, Gerrit. See you next time."

And I meant it, because those compliments really did me good.

Photo: Sinval Carvalho