Chapter 4

John was beyond reasonable while I was breaking down. With calm kindness he stopped my frantic actions and led me upstairs to our lumpy gray couch. Sitting there, our knees touching he held my hand and asked questions that I had not even thought of yet.

"Karen love, what exactly did you think and say when you kissed me this morning?"

"The same thing I do every morning, I sang the silly little rhyme: Gray hair, gray hair, come back when he doesn't care. And then I wondered why just those hairs were a different color and why couldn't they be the same as all the others. It wasn't logical or even wishing."

John patted my hand and thought about it before touching his temples. With a brow arched he questioned me. "So, did it change back to gray? Or was it the thoughts you had rather than the song you sang?"

Looking at his head I could only see the very handsome shade that he had always had, minus the silvering.

"It's still brown."

"So think about those hairs and tell them to become a different color, like black."

How he could be so calm and collected right now I just didn't know, but I found his suggestion to be a reasonable test. Looking at his head I thought about the hair follicles and strands of hair when suddenly my mind had a picture of them. How, I don't know though it could have been my imagination. My teeth chewed on my lip while I asked the image to change colors to black.

For a moment I was sure that nothing would happen, I mean how could it? Hair just simply can't change its own color no matter how much I want it too. But then, as I looked at John, his whole head of hair slowly darkened at the roots before the dark color slipped down to the end of each strand. Eyes opened wide and I took in a large lungful of air as I sat, on the verge of panicked flight.

"I take it from your reaction that worked didn't it?"

John's calm voice settled my nerves slightly but inside I was still quivering in fear and confused panic. His hair looked rich and healthy with that blue sheen that really dark black hair has. My hand reached out and touched it just to make sure I was not simply seeing what I thought I should see at his words. He interrupted me with another test.

"Why don't you try to get rid of The Mole."

The Mole was not something we talked about. It was just there; a large brown ugly lump of flesh that quivered on my collarbone forcing me to wear high necked shirts and scarves. Blinking, my hand going instinctively to the hidden growth, I wondered how to do it. After taking another large gulp of air I closed my eyes and tried to picture that bump of flesh. Just about to give up, I sighed and slumped a bit on the couch, relaxing just a bit more into the squishy cushions. That little bit of tension release generated the image in my head of the mole in question.

Since I could not see any reason to keep it nor for its existence, I simply imagined the cells smoothing out and turning a color consistent with the surrounding skin. When my imagination had it just right I opened my eyes and tried to get a glimpse of the area. John chuckled at my antics and peered at my skin revealed when I pulled my shirt aside. His fingertips lightly grazed my skin where I knew the mole should be but he never slowed for a moment. Looking at my face he opened his mouth to say something and then sat there in shock.