Part Two

The Classics tutor always had these funny gifts for me when we met up. Not least was the fact that he changed my perspective on hairbrush products with his choice of one gift. But more about the boar bristle hairbrush later.

One time, he showed up in the town square with a rosette in his hands. He handed it to me and told me it was for my horse when I got one. We took a long walk after a great Italian meal, and we came back to my place that evening to find that my flatmate had absconded. She had packed all of her belongings and she had just left. My life was enough of a mess, and my rent was due a few days from then and she hadn’t left me any money. I had only known her for two months – this was in the days before cellphones and I didn’t have any contact details for her. The Classics tutor was sympathetic. I looked around the apartment. She had taken some of my things too.

“She even took my hairbrush,” I shrieked.

A week later, I was two hundred bucks in the red and I had no means of paying off the debt. The Classics tutor showed up unannounced at my apartment door with one of his quirky gifts.

“You coming in?” I asked, pleasantly surprised by his visit, although he looked a little pale.
“I’m not staying,” he replied. “I’m going back to Albany. I’ve just had a bereavement and I don’t think I’ll be returning here.”
“Who’s died?” I asked.
“It’s really not important.” He shrugged. “You have enough to worry about, with your studies and everything.”

I thought about each time we’d met. He knew I was concerned about passing my course, and that I was under a lot of stress trying to juggle everything.

“Do I moan too much?” I asked then, suddenly aware that he was ending things.
“No! No,” he replied. “It’s just…I have to go and you have stuff of your own to worry about. I don’t want you to worry about me. Okay?”

Then I noticed the little package in his hands.

“My last gift,” he said. “Courtesy of the good people at the hairbrush company.” As I tore the package open, he went on to say: “You know…it was one of the labours of Hercules to capture a boar.”

The gift was a boar bristle hairbrush with a wooden handle, lacquered to a smooth finish. It looked a little too functional to qualify as a heart-melting declaration of love.

“Oh?” I said, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, Hercules…Long story short, Hercules earns his immortality while boning up on how to capture the boar. Here,” he said then, producing an envelope. “There’s your rent money. Pay off your debt with it.”

“I’m gonna pay you back,” I insisted.

“I’m not gonna contact you again, at least for a while,” he said then. “Until I’m no longer grieving. It wouldn’t be fair.”

I looked down at the hairbrush again.

“So the…the boar bristle hairbrush has significance as a gift?” I asked.
“I guess I’m telling you that you can achieve anything,” he smiled.

“My mom never liked door to door salesmen,” I declared. I was trying to remain unemotional, but I’d been really touched by his behavior. I knew too that I’d never see him again. “But this boar bristle hairbrush…” I fell quiet as he leaned in and whispered “Goodnight.” I took a deep breath as his lips brushed mine. The way he had said Goodnight struck me as strong, not what I’d expected from this academic. There was a harshness to the t in ‘night’, a finality to it, but there was a gorgeous, loving sibilance to it too. An insistent t, with a little hint of s.

Summary: Handcrafted boar bristle hairbrush have natural boar bristles that are friendlier to the hair than synthetic bristles. However, they also have tiny scales that clean your hair, removing grit and dirt. Aesthetics are also satisfied with the beautiful finish on polished hardwood handles.