Tuning Fork

TUNING FORK

^Il Hi, honey!" Ronnie greets me with his usual hug and kiss on the lips as I walk into the hair salon in the front of his Spanish-style stucco house in Grass Valley. He sits me down in the antique barber chair next to the stainless steel rack of brightly colored bottles of shampoo, conditioner and all manner of hair product.

“I’m getting like a Shiva vibe for your color,” he says, and does a bit of

impromptu Hindu chanting. I love being around Ronnie. He is Italian with big green eyes, a handsome face, a shaved head and beefy arms and legs. Tattoos encircle his biceps and he wears multiple rings and bracelets. Pictures of his guru, Amma, are in front of the mirror along with a small brass Buddha.

Ronnie fawns over me and is affectionate and playful. We laugh a lot and talk about sexy things in the comfortable way that women can talk with gay men.

Mark, Ronnie's boyfriend, is as understated and quietly sincere as Ronnie is verbal, theatrical and extroverted. He is tall, handsome and very slim with big brown eyes accentuated by his also shaved head.

I ask if I may use the bathroom and Mark says that the water is off and the toilet is kind of a mess. I think l'd rather pee in the back yard but decide against suggesting that.

At a shiny steel table in the vintage, restored kitchen sits their friend the hippie plumber, drinking coffee and looking worn out. He seems reluctant to go to work on the pipes in the dug-up trenches outside.

Mark and Ronnie are edgy. They want the plumber to get busy. I feel thirsty knowing there is no water. I wonder aloud how Ronnie is going to rinse off my color and he says it will for sure be fixed by then.

As Ronnie begins putting the color on me, he and Mark are having a stressful domestic dialogue about the water situation. Mark walks over near the computer, his head hits a feather hanging there, and he snaps his annoyance that it is hung too low.

"Don't start with me! Gabriel gave me that!" says Ronnie.

Ronnie begins sectioning out my hair and applying color with a

paintbrush, wrapping each section in a small foil envelope. He folds the envelopes and slowly my whole head gets covered in foils. He wears thick black latex gloves while he works, which to my mind adds an S & M aesthetic to the whole procedure.

I'm not shy about looking like something from Star Trek because Ronnie and Mark have seen me like this so many times, and I don't care what the plumber thinks.

Then Bear walks in the front door. I am as surprised to see him as he is to see me. I play water volleyball at the gym and so does Bear. He looks surprised and a little dismayed to see me there, looking like that, and in spite of myself I feel embarrassed.

The last time I saw Bear we were both in the hot tub at the gym. He told me that he had just noticed my wedding ring and that he had been wanting to ask me out. I said I was flattered and he asked if I had any single friends that wouldn't mind going out with a Bear.

Then Bear offered me a healing with his tuning fork.

I have been having pain in the backs of my legs and up into my hip joints, so I think why not, plus it is a way to pass the time while my color processes.

Bear goes out to the car and fetches a large metal tuning fork that he has made. It is about four feet long and the knob on top is six inches in diameter. The pair of forks is six by four inches. Ronnie has another client so we go into the small kitchen adjacent to the salon area.

Bear produces a black pad with a wire attached to it and instructs me to bend over and put my hands on the kitchen table.

WHAANNNGGG! he whacks the thing on the black pad, hard, then applies the end of the vibrating, singing aluminum fork to my butt bones and commences to growl in a low continuous hum GRHHMMMMMMM! while touching my left hip.

A smile creeps onto my lips. Bear does the whole procedure again.

WHAANNNNGGG!!! I think we might be pissing off the neighbors. GRRRHMMMM!!!

I am laughing now. W.H.A.....NNG!!! GRHMMM!!! Tears are rolling out of the corners of my eyes and I am cracking up.

Five minutes later Bear asks me if my hips feel better. I reply that it's probably too soon to tell.

The Grass Valley water guy shows up and seems to be consulting with the hippie plumber as he works. The former is classically masculine, tall, buffed, with a craggy squarish face. Ronnie and Mark go back and forth about how sexy he is. I personally think he is too macho looking, and let my opinion be known.

It's almost time to rinse my color and there is still no water. Ronnie calls the next door neighbor to see if we can use his kitchen sink.

As we step over the bushes alongside the driveway we observe Bear standing next to the plumber, who has stopped working to get a healing. WHANNGGG!!! GRHMMMM!! Bear applies the tuning fork to his back. MMM W-HAAANN...............-..G!!! GRHMMMMMM .

WHAAANNNG! GRHHHMMM...

The next door neighbor clears the dishes out of his sink and Ronnie pulls the foils out of my hair and gives me a rinse. We clean the sink, replace the dishrack and go back next door.

My color comes out great as usual. A few minutes later the water is back on. I have to go to work in Yuba City and I change into black pants, a khaki square-neck top, a beige glen-plaid linen jacket, and brown suede boots. Ronnie and I eat lunch together in the sun on the front patio, shielded from the street by a tall stand of bamboo. The plumber and Mark are cleaning up the mess.

Mark compliments my outfit, Ronnie hugs me goodbye and I head off to my job chuckling to myself.