My Crowning Glory, page 4
“Stedman is a successful millionaire and businessman, in his own right. This is not about them. This is about that crap you just said about her. That girl was gorgeous and you chose to demean her because you prefer women with relaxers. I can’t talk when I’m this mad. Take me home before I say something I’ll regret.” A sigh escaped as I crossed my arms, again.
Wilson’s shoulders slumped. “I love you, Anisa.”
“Just take me home.”
# # #
“Janie tells me you’ll be starting your fellowship two Mondays after graduation.” My mother prattled around in the kitchen. Her hands appeared to move as if someone pressed fast forward on a DVD.
“Yes, ma’am.” My nose smiled as the scent of my mother’s signature smothered pork chops and gravy filled the room.
“Do you think you’ll be staying on at FHF after you complete your fellowship? Government jobs are safe and great for stable work. Your father and I have worked for the same company since we graduated from high school and he returned from his time in the service. Young people these days have no sense of loyalty and commitment. Hopping from job to job.” Her head shook in sync with her hand stirring the mashed potatoes.
“Things aren’t the same, Momma. Companies use you up and spit you out. Many people are laid off and fired without reaching the ten-year mark. Today’s economy and corporate atmosphere is not the same as before and that includes the government. Teachers, cops, firefighters and a bunch of other civil servants were laid off at the beginning of the recession.” The dirt under my fingers occupied my attention for a few moments.
“That is ridiculous. Your generation has no appreciation of the choices you take for granted. The entitlement and obnoxious behavior you engage in is downright, sinful.” She dabbed her forehead.
“Don’t lump me in with them. Hard work was not an option in this house, you and Dad taught me how to work for what I want and I appreciate it, very much.” The aroma seemed less pleasant as I eased down from the stool I sat in my entire childhood and watched my mother prepare dinner after a full day’s work.
“Underestimating stability is a great danger, Anisa. Your father and I made providing a stable and secure home for you a priority. That was not our responsibility it was our privilege. I’ve hoped you would realize how important that has been in your success and mimic our efforts instead of chasing pipe dreams and fantasies like everyone else in your generation. Reality TV shows, writing books about whom you’re private with and anything else to make a name -- no matter what kind of name it is for yourself. We didn’t raise you that way, Anisa.” Her hands shook.
“You think I want to be a reality television star. That is funny.” My laugh grew into a fit of giggles as my father walked into the kitchen.
He walked to my mother. Their customary cheek peck calmed my giggles to a smile. My mother had no worries, there were several lessons on stability and security she and my father taught me that stuck. His steps were quick and light before he kissed me in the middle of my forehead. Same spot, long as I could remember.
“Hi, Daddy.” My arms wrapped around his solid yet round middle.
“Good evening, Doughnut.” He pretended he was about to muss my hair.
“Help me set the table, Anisa.” My momma walked past me with a dish of smoking mashed potatoes.
The vegetables waited for me in their serving dish. In silence, my mother and I dressed the table for dinner. Moments after she sat the smothered pork chops and gravy on the table my father entered the dining room. We held hands as my father led us in grace.
“You excited about starting your job with the government?” My Dad cut his pork chop.
“It’s not a job Daddy it’s a fellowship, but I am excited about it. The chance to realize what I’ve signed up for with real world experience is differs from studying, learning and short-term projects. The summer internship I did last year fulfilled my graduation requirement but this fellowship gives me an opportunity to impact my field.”
My mother cleared her throat.
“I’ll never understand you kids today. Wasn’t there another company interested in giving you an actual job?” His fork hovered over the piece of meat he cut.
“You're ready for me to move to another state, on the west coast, Daddy?”
“Yes, if that meant you were able to start a career and prepare yourself for a family. Maybe give you a chance to meet some new people and interests.” He chewed his pork chop.
“Well I’m very interested in the cruise I’m taking the week after graduation. Who knows I might even meet some bona fide celebrities who can get me on their reality television show with Momma. She was telling me how much she wanted to be the new sassy mother from the south, before you arrived.” My laugh diffused the frown forming on my mother’s lips.
“Wilson okay with you going on a cruise for seven days without him?” My mother took a sip from her glass of water.
“We’re dating, not married. He doesn’t run me, and if he continues to act the way he did the other night, we won’t be doing that much longer.” My appetite disappeared.
Both of my parents placed their forks on the table.
My father crossed his arms.
“We were at the store and I saw this woman with the most beautiful hair. He got upset because I told him I’d decided to go natural. While I asked the girl some questions, he was rude and I got so mad, I made him take me home.” There I’d said it aloud. Please, don't tell me, it sounds trivial or even petty but for me it wasn’t the whack jokes that upset me. Wilson lied to my face when he pretended to support my decision to go natural.
“You must have been exposed to some mind altering germs at FHF, if you think we’re about to let you walk around with your head looking like you stick your finger into a socket before you walk out of the house every morning.” My father uncrossed his arms and picked up his fork.
“True, Daddy. I have no intentions of walking around looking like I’ve been electrocuted but how I wear my hair is not up to you and Momma, anymore. The days of pigtails and restriction from jherri curls have long passed. I’m about to graduate with a Master’s degree.” My arm hair shot up as goose pimples covered them.
“Don’t tell me, you’re serious about walking around with nappy hair like some ... militant government star looking for attention. You want attention, be on time for work, produce, contribute to society. Don’t walk around with naps in your hair.”
“Mitchell, calm down. We wore our hair like that for a little while. No need to get all worked up.” My mother placed a hand on my father’s arm that rested on the table.
He looked at me then to my mother. The unspoken communication they’d shared for long as I could remember calmed him enough to finish his pork chop.
“I think your father is concerned about what going against the norm may do to hurt your career. Government offices are very conservative. These people expect you to present a certain look. You have a chance to make a good life for yourself, Anisa. Don’t let something as simple or petty as hair mess that up. May be what Wilson was trying to say but didn’t know how.” She rubbed my father’s arm.
“You can’t be serious. This is the twenty first century. If someone is worried more about what is on my head instead of in it, that is there problem. The way I wear my hair is no one’s business but mine. First Zoe and Ebonee, then Wilson and now you and Dad. No one seems to care about how I feel about what I want to do with my hair. You haven’t even asked me why.” Tears of frustration threatened to well up but I squelched their trip.
“You’re right, Nisa. No one else has the final say but have you thought about how this might affect your future? Is a promising career with the government worth throwing away for fashion?”
“Fashion!” Air. I needed fresh air. “Daddy how was work?”
“Don’t disrespect your mother, Anisa. Answer her question. You decided to do this now answer her.” He ate a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
“No, she is right, Mitchell. Anisa doesn’t have to get our permission to change her hair. She isn’t a child anymore. I think we need to leave her alone about this, she has never given us any trouble ... I don’t think she is going to give us any now.” The smile my mother gave calmed the storm brewing in my father’s eyes.
“I had no idea changing my hair would be such a big ordeal.” I scarfed down the rest of my pork chop. “It doesn’t make sense with all the progress our country has made, we’re having a discussion regarding my career because I decided to stop getting relaxers. It’s just hair.”
# # #
Nothing helped me relax and think things through like a girl's night out. With the drama between Wilson and me, an invitation to hang out felt premature. The quasi support my mother offered gave me a little comfort but not enough to schedule a movie night to discuss whatever vexed me over her homemade caramel kettle corn. A girls' night out was my only lifeline.
Too many of our usual spots offered the likelihood of running into Wilson so we drove up interstate 75 to a grown folks' lounge known to have VIP guests, slamming music and good food. Ebonee wanted to leave her man’s curfew with him in Macon so she abandoned the notion of borrowing his truck and we cruised up interstate seventy-five in my favorite college graduation present from my godmother and parents, a new Honda CRV with all the trimmings. They promised to buy my dream car if I graduated from college with honors and bought my first car. None of us mentioned it after I worked two summers and an entire school year to save for my first used car.
“Earth to Anisa!” Zoe waved her hands in front of my face. “You finally get off that tall pony and let Wilson into your secret garden and now you can’t even think straight.”
“My mind is in Atlanta on that dance floor. I’m about to sweat all these problems and my hair out so Peaches can earn every cent she charges me tomorrow.” Sometimes no response yielded better results.
“Humph. You better take care of that man, if you don’t another woman ...”
“Can have him. So can someone please pull up the directions from here?” Porsche shook her head and suppressed a laugh in the backseat.
I stuck my tongue out at her in the rearview mirror.
“Zoe got that newfangled iPhone and insisted on riding shotgun, make her do it.” Porsche stuck her tongue back out at me.
“You can ride back next to your man on the way home. If work these hips right I’ll get a ride back from a real baller, not one of these fake dudes in Macon.” Zoe put her palm over her shoulder. “Y’all know this new iPhone GPS is whack stop hating and someone give me your Android phone.”
Everyone laughed as Ebonee handed her phone to Zoe.
***
A valet opened the door to the CRV as I pulled up to the lane the parking lot attendant directed. Some cars were directed to follow us and others waved into a larger lot. A tall guy with a camera waited with bright lights and a microphone, as we exited the car.
“Authentic sexy southern bells from Bibb County bringing juicy flavah at the Club tonight. Don’t sleep on these real Georgia Peaches, I see a few I’d like to squeeze at home.” The tall guy winked at me.
Zoe pranced to the front of the group. “Thank you for knowing where the real juice is in GA!”
His attention zoomed in on all the right places and to my relief the rest of us eased past mister microphone into the club. We slipped past the line to the front of what looked like VIP. No one said anything and with the week I had, I decided to go with it. By the time we sat in VIP someone sent us a bottle of champagne, nothing rap video worthy but it was free. “Anyone gonna check on Zoe?”
“No, she said she was leaving with some baller, I’m not blocking.” Ebonee shrugged.
“Well, I have a date with the dance floor when they play something with some bump on it.” I poured champagne in my glass.
A tall brother without a microphone and camera escorted Zoe to our table. His eyes followed every curve of her body until she sat next to Ebonee. Zoe insisted on sitting on the outside of the group whenever we went out to make sure she wasn't looked over.
“What happened to your big break?” Ebonee sipped champagne.
“He was big broke. The shoes, his teeth and his bank account was busted because if not the shoes and teeth would have been fixed. I’m not the one to wait on him to get his veneer money saved, that means he can’t spend any on me.” Zoe cackled and the glitter on her cleavage sparkled.
“I hear ya.” Sometimes I wish I didn’t but that was not something I needed to focus on, the point of the girls night was to relax and driving down that with road Zoe led to a brick wall with no brakes.
“Listen to Ms. Masters trying to sound down.” Zoe cackled again. Tall guy number two returned to the table and led her to the dance floor. She winked as he helped her down.
“Looks like I’ll be on champagne and purse duty because I know once Anisa hit the floor she is not coming back until the lights come on or her shoes need to come off.” Ebonee shook her head.
Porsche laughed. “She isn’t that bad.”
They looked down at my feet. Instead of my super cute four-inch platforms, I’d opted for my sexy ballet flats.
“We may be here all night.” Ebonee shook her head. “The next bottle is on Anisa if she plans to shut this place down.”
Zoe walked back to the table snapping her fingers. A new group of girls walked past us and sat at a nearby table. She smiled and tapped Ebonee on the shoulder. They whispered back and forth until Porsche sucked her teeth loud enough for everyone to hear over the music.
“Really, we can just order some food if you that hungry, Porsche.” Zoe rolled her eyes and waved a server to the table.
“I’m not hungry, but I will take a plate of calamari.” One of the reviews for the club online said the seafood in this place was better than a five star restaurant.
The others added their orders and a sniggle escaped Ebonee as the server walked by the women seated next to us.
“Those braids get any tighter they gonna make her show some papers. She should know better than to wear that style.” Zoe shook her head.
“What is going on with the girl next to her?” Ebonee squinted.
Curiosity overrode my better judgment and the urge to leave my friends in Atlanta bounced around my mind. Porsche shook her head. I had been unable to tell half our fearless foursome why I needed to sweat my problems out on the marble floor in a club almost an hour away from home.
“Seriously, there should be some kinda law against some of these hairstyles people are rocking nowadays. Natural hair should be reserved for people who don’t need perms ... don’t these chicks consider the people who have to look at them?” A snort escaped Zoe throwing Ebonee into a laughing fit.
“I don’t care what the next song is that comes on we are going to dance.” Porsche nudged me toward the dance floor. “We’ll come back when she brings the food and busy as this club is that could be never. C’mon.”
“Put it Down” by Brandy was mixed into the song ending. Before I could stop her, Porsche pulled me onto the dance floor. Seconds later two guys joined Porsche and me. For the next four minutes and nine seconds, the only thing that occupied my mind was matching the moves of my boneless dance partner. Wilson would have a fit if he knew I let someone dance on me like this, but I was pissed at him, so I danced harder. “Clique” by Kanye West followed and as much as I wanted to sit down this dude went so hard I had to match him. Ten songs later, my stomach growled and the tug on my shirt told me our food arrived.
Stress from the week puddled in the spot on the floor where my dance teacher schooled another girl. Ebonee picked over her fries and flashed us a half smile as we plopped down next to her. Zoe winked as she balanced on the knee of a buff and average height guy in expensive clothes two VIP booths away from us. Her nostrils flared when the fair-skinned girl with what I thought was a fly cornrow style joined them at the request of the guy, paying for the table.
“You know it would serve her right to be playing cute with the brokest dude at the table.” Porsche whispered in my ear.
The smell of calamari interrupted my smart comeback. Snatches of the comments about my friends made by my parents and Wilson Bankhead bounced in my mind and as much as I hated to admit it I realized we might not all make it for the long haul. Mean and spiteful as the cracks about the girl at the table were I couldn’t stomach doing it back to them. “I hope not, maybe if she finally gets what she wants she’ll stop being mad when people get what they work hard for, this resident hater role she plays is getting old.”
“Those jokes really bothered you.” Porsche put her coconut shrimp back on the plate. “You know they wouldn’t say something like that about you.”
“We’ve been friends since forever. I know they would. The question is why and why do I care. What makes black women so obsessed with hair?” I hoped whoever wrote the online club review won the lottery when the bread mix from the calamari melted on my tongue.
“That topic of discussion is best left to Chris Rock. We have two more dancers to find and calories from all this fat to sweat off. Everyone hasn’t found their chocolate prince.” Porsche giggled.
A laugh caught in my throat as I dipped another ring of calamari into the custom sauce in the middle of my plate. Porsche believed I’d blown the incident in the store out of proportion. From my point of view not only was I thinking about opening the court to find a better prince, my ladies in waiting applications needed to be dusted off, too.
Chapter 5
Peaches told me she loved doing hair. At my first appointment, she said she was one of those stylists who like the smell of dye and curling irons. Not a personal preference I knew existed. Instead of looking for a new stylist the Saturday after our impromptu night out to the south side of Atlanta, I opted to have her do my wash and style.
“Well, if it ain’t the do bop twins. Do bop yourselves right on over here. Porsche, Danielle’s running late so the shampoo girl is gonna wash you and get you started.” Peaches nodded toward a young woman sweeping the floor.
