My father had criticized my husband Adam’s long hair for years. That Sunday, he handed him scissors at dinner and demanded he cut it “like a real man.” But Adam had his reasons for keeping it long \u2014 and something he’d said that morning had left me afraid to ask what they were.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The scissors hit the floor beside Dad’s shoe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stared at Adam, who stood with his hair gathered in one hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Does my daughter know about this?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I pushed my chair back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The scissors hit the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
***<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Earlier that morning, my husband was stealing my conditioner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“That’s the expensive one,” I said around my toothbrush.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam inspected the bottle. “Explains why I feel expensive.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stood beside me in a towel, his dark hair wet against his shoulders. I nudged him with my hip so I could reach the sink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Earlier that morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You have your own.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Mine doesn’t say ‘intensive restoration.’ I work hard. I need restoring.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I bent to rinse my mouth. Beside me, Adam worked the comb beneath his hair, then stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Tangle?” I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Something like that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Tangle?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I straightened, he was setting the comb down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Does it still bother you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Don’t.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turned off the faucet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He rubbed his thumb along the comb’s handle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Does it still bother you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I was only asking.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked at me in the mirror. “I don’t live like that anymore.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He’d told me almost nothing about that part of his life, and I couldn’t tell whether he meant to start now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I don’t live like that anymore.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Like what?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He put the comb in the drawer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Can we leave it alone today?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Okay.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He kissed my forehead and went into the bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Like what?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until then, I’d thought he simply disliked talking about his past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now I wondered what he was afraid I’d think of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
***<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We’d been married four years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I knew how Adam took his coffee and which shoulder bothered him after a long day at the shop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He disliked talking about his past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He would fix a neighbor’s brakes for the cost of the parts and pretend it was no trouble.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But there was a stretch of Adam’s life I knew almost nothing about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Names came up sometimes of men he’d worked with, and the woman he’d lived with then, Sue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He’d once described them as a rough crowd.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But whenever a story reached those years, he tended to skip ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I knew almost nothing about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d always assumed there wasn’t much he wanted to remember.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Standing by the sink that morning, I wondered what he meant by not living like that anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Necklace?” he called from the bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I found him holding the clasp open. I turned, and he fastened it, his fingers warm against my neck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“There.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wondered what he meant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He rested his hands on my shoulders. In the dresser mirror, we looked like ourselves again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I reached up and squeezed his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You don’t have to fix anything at their house today,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Your mom’s cabinet door still hanging crooked?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Yes. Dad can tighten a hinge.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I squeezed his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“It takes two minutes.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He’d spend those two minutes helping Mom, then come to the table and listen to Dad complain that his shirt had a faded collar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Come eat with us afterward,” I said. “Don’t let him send you straight into the garage.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That was Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam met my eyes in the mirror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I came to eat with you last time.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remembered calling him in twice while Dad kept finding things he wanted Adam to look at. Then Dad had complained about waiting to carve the roast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I know,” I said. “I should’ve come and got you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad had complained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He squeezed my shoulders, and I leaned back against him for a moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
***<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom opened the front door holding a dish towel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Come in. Your father’s been watching for you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I handed her the pie while Adam hung up our coats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom opened the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad was already at the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Sit down before it gets cold,” Mom said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took the chair beside Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam pushed his hair behind his shoulders before reaching for his napkin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Adam, are you ever getting a haircut?” Dad asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Sit down.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Good to see you too, Frank.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Your hair’s longer than my daughter’s.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“And he still looks better than I do in the morning,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad didn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Are you ever getting a haircut?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Frank, pass the potatoes,” Mom said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m just saying he could make an effort.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“He came to dinner, Dad. Isn’t that an effort?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d said versions of that before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Usually, Dad grumbled, Mom introduced another subject, and we got through the meal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“He could make an effort.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Later, I’d tell Adam I thought it had gone fairly well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes he agreed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes he just asked whether I wanted the radio on for the drive home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This time, Dad pushed his chair back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I thought he was getting the bread we’d left on the counter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes he agreed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He returned with the kitchen scissors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Here. Cut it. Maybe you’ll finally look like a real man.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He held them out to Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Dad, that’s enough.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He kept his arm extended. “I’m talking to Adam.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Here. Cut it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“And I’m asking you to stop.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad glanced at Mom, as though she might explain why I was making a fuss.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Can’t say anything in this house anymore.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I waited for her to take the scissors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She set the potato dish down instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m asking you to stop.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Frank, just let him eat.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“He’s got a voice. He can answer for himself.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His smile was gone, and he seemed to have shrunk in on himself. I’d meant to spare him another argument; now Dad was waiting for him to prove he could have one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“He’s got a voice.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam looked at the scissors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You’re serious?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“What’s the problem? It’s just hair.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Then why are you so bothered by it?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Because my daughter deserves a husband who looks respectable.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You’re serious?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Heat climbed into my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom had stopped serving the potatoes, the spoon still in her hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I reached for Adam beneath the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We can go home,” I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He shook his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We can go home.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“No. I’ve let him say this for too long.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His chair scraped the floor, and Dad drew the scissors back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You really want to know why I keep it long, Frank?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’ve been asking for years.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam turned and slowly gathered his hair away from the back of his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From my chair, I could only see Dad’s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched his eyes widen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He went pale.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then the scissors hit the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You really want to know?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Frank? What’s wrong?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad kept staring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Does my daughter know about this?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I got up and stepped beside Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The scars ran beneath his hair, several pale, uneven lines crossing the back of his scalp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One extended toward his ear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had first noticed them early in our marriage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I’d asked, he’d said he’d been hurt a long time ago. Later, when I’d asked about his hair, he’d told me there was a reason he kept it long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had first noticed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d understood that he wanted them covered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d never understood what had caused them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’ve seen them, Dad.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“What the hell were you involved in?” he asked Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Frank\u2014” Mom began.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He wanted them covered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m asking him. Was it some kind of gang?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Dad, stop.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam let his hair fall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked at me, and I realized my hand was still hovering beside his arm instead of touching him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Was it some kind of gang?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But he had seen my hesitation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Is that what you think, too?” he asked softly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“This morning,” I said quietly, “you said you don’t live like that anymore. I don’t know what that means.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His fingers shifted in mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Is that what you think?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to take the question back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I also wanted him to answer it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam looked down at our hands, then at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Someone I lived with did it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d been picturing a fight with one of those rough men he’d been friends with.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted him to answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad set both palms on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“And you brought that kind of trouble into my daughter’s life?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Let him finish.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My voice was loud enough that Mom lowered the serving spoon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turned to Adam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You brought trouble into my daughter’s life?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Who?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam swallowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“My ex-girlfriend. Sue.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Sue? That’s why you never talk about her?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Who?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d put Sue in the background of those years, somewhere among the people he’d stopped seeing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be the reason he wouldn’t talk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“She threw things when she was angry. At first, she’d throw them against a wall. Then she started throwing them at me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom sat down slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“The last time, I turned to leave the room. She hit me with a heavy ceramic bowl. I needed stitches.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I tightened my grip on his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was watching me carefully. I hated that he had to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I kept thinking if I didn’t argue, or if I got home when she expected, it wouldn’t happen again,” he said. “That’s what I meant this morning. I don’t live like that anymore.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was watching me carefully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Adam.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I know I should’ve told you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m sorry she did that to you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad looked down at the scissors beside his shoe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a second, I thought he was ashamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I should’ve told you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You’re telling me you couldn’t stop her? Big guy like you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam went still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Dad, waiting for him to hear himself. He knew Adam could carry a toolbox, wrestle a stubborn tire loose, help him move a refrigerator.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Big guy like you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Apparently, that meant he should have been impossible to hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You wanted me to hurt her?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Then what are you asking?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You should’ve made sure she never did it again.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You wanted me to hurt her?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I did. I left. And I stayed gone,” Adam said. “Even when she called and said she was sorry. Even when she said nobody else would put up with me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked at me as he said the last part.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to get him out of that room, somewhere he could tell me things without having to defend them a breath later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I did.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad shook his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“So you ran away.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Enough,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad turned toward me. “Excuse me?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You asked what happened. He told you. Then you blamed him.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Enough.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m allowed to ask questions about the man my daughter married.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I asked why he couldn’t handle himself.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom pushed her chair back. “Let’s all sit down. The food’s getting cold.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Adam’s plate. He hadn’t taken a bite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We’re leaving.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Let’s all sit down.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Honey, please,” Mom said. “We can drop it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You can, but my husband still has to sit here after hearing THAT.” I turned to Adam. “Ready?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad gave another short laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Now you’re hiding behind my daughter?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We can drop it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam lifted his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I spoke before he had to defend himself again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m standing beside my husband. You don’t get to make that another insult.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad’s face reddened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You’re walking out on your own father over a question?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Over what you did with the answer.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went to the hall closet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My hands shook as I pulled our coats off their hangers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad followed us to the doorway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“If he wants to go, let him,” he said. “You haven’t eaten.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Over what you did.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Neither has Adam.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You don’t have to leave every time he gets upset.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I pulled my coat from its hanger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Mom made dinner,” he said. “Sit down. He can pick you up later.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For years, staying had seemed easier than making a scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Sit down.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“My husband just admitted something painful. He chose to be vulnerable to answer your question, and you mocked him for it.” I shook my head. “I can’t sit at the same table as you after that.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I handed Adam his coat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom appeared behind Dad, holding the dish towel. She looked at me, then at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dad’s face had turned red.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You mocked him.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Don’t expect me to call and beg you to come back,” Dad said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m not asking you to beg. I’m asking you to treat him decently.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“This is ridiculous.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I opened the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adam walked out with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m not asking you to beg.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the car, he put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I thought if he saw, he’d stop.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched his thumb press against the key. His eyes were wet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You shouldn’t have had to show him.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I wanted to. At the time.” He looked toward the windshield. “I didn’t think I’d have to stand there and explain why I didn’t hit her.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I thought he’d stop.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I kept hoping he’d come around,” I said. “You kept having to sit there while I waited.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn’t rush to tell me it was okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was glad he didn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
***<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At home, we sat on the couch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You looked scared this morning,” Adam said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I kept hoping he’d come around.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You stopped combing your hair, and I thought it was hurting you. Then you said you didn’t live like that anymore. I started wondering what had happened back then.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I saw you wondering at dinner.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I was.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded, looking at his hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I was.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I hated how long I stayed,” he said. “I didn’t want you wondering why.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I moved my hand onto his knee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’m glad you got out.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He covered my hand with his.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You don’t have to tell me the rest tonight,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I didn’t want you wondering why.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“There isn’t some worse thing you’re going to find out about me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“That’s not what I meant.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He searched my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I wondered whether you’d been involved in something,” I said. “You saw that. I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“That’s what I thought you’d wonder.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“That’s not what I meant.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“But you were trying to tell me someone hurt you.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked down at our hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I liked how you looked at me,” he said. “Before you knew.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wanted to say nothing had changed, but something had. I understood now why he’d asked to leave the subject alone. He hadn’t known what telling me would cost him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Before you knew.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I still want you beside me,” I said. “When you need to talk, and when you don’t.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He rubbed his palm over his knee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I don’t know how to talk about all of it.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We don’t have to do it all at once.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He leaned back against the couch. I stayed close enough that our shoulders touched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I still want you beside me.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mom called Tuesday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She asked whether we’d come on Sunday, then said Dad thought everyone had said things they regretted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I don’t regret leaving,” I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“He’s embarrassed.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I don’t regret leaving.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Then he can talk to me about what he said. We won’t be there Sunday.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Afterward, I told Adam about the call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn’t ask him when he might be willing to try again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
***<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That Sunday, we ate takeout on the couch. He unpacked two orders of the potatoes I always stole from his plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“We won’t be there Sunday.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“You ordered two?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’ve learned a few things in four years.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He passed me a carton, and I tucked my feet beneath his leg.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This time, we both ate while our dinner was hot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I’ve learned a few things in four years.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My father had criticized my husband Adam’s long hair for years. That Sunday, he handed him scissors at dinner and demanded he cut it “like a real… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":173,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8849","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8849","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8849"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8849\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8850,"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8849\/revisions\/8850"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/173"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8849"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8849"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bzerbros.fun\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8849"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}