“I never knew you were married.”

Melissa looked at her client, puzzled. “No, ma’am. I’ve never been married. What makes you think that?”

Here’s the truth: Mel and I were only married on stage. It was A Crazy Time, fifteen years ago, performed at Port Cape. We liked the divorce so much we kept it alive.

When we bump into each other in Cape Girardeau outside of Concepts, we lean into it. She introduces herself to whoever I’m with like we have history. Honestly? We technically do. We’ve watched friends try to do the math.

Wait a second. That was how many years ago?

How long were you married?

Mel, weren’t you and Christian dating then?

That can’t be right, Joe. Weren’t you married to someone else?

Complete strangers give us weird looks too. Once, someone asked Alissa how she felt about us staying so close after the split. Alissa never missed a beat. “She’s the reason he’s a stronger, better man today. She got the house and pool. I got Joe. I think I got the better deal.”

Sitting in her chair for my haircut, Mel’s threatened to “accidentally” nick my ear. I’ve told her she already took more from me in the divorce than a Texas-sized mosquito or divorce attorney. Then come the fictitious parts—reminding her she got our two-story home with the pool, custody of both kids, Danny and Leia, and the dog Pepper.

We’ve workshopped this bit for fifteen years. Most of the stylists in the salon, and the owner, know none of it is true.

One time another client overheard us going back and forth.

“I heard you talking to your ex-husband about having custody of the kids, getting the house, and your dog, Pepper.”

Mel laughed and told me about this weeks later. She’s never been married. Our fake divorce is the closest she’s come.

Melissa, a woman I acted with fifteen years ago, continues to make me look good through every season of my life. And she’s watched me live through the hard ones, beautiful ones, and a few I didn’t think I’d survive. She’s been the one person I trust to stand behind me, hands in my hair, asking how I’m really doing.

And truly listening.

It’s what we miss about the people who take care of us. We sit in their chairs talking about our lives, and sometimes we forget. It’s more than a haircut they’re giving us. We get their hands, attention, and their craft. That’s a lot they offer in trade for our hard-earned cash.

So, Mel, I want to say thank you. For the laughs, for all the years, and for every time you made me look better than I deserve. My gratitude and thanks.