My Crowning Glory, page 5
“Cool.” Porsche sat in Danielle’s chair.
Nerves bunched together in the bottom of my stomach as I tried to find a way to start a conversation I knew would not end well. This woman cared for my hair since before I started dating her cousin. She even defended me to him a few times when he wanted me to neglect my studies to spend time with him. Peaches had grown from service provider to almost family.
“You guys like that hair show. Wilson told me you won some tickets, Porsche.” Peaches pulled the cap off my head. My sweat dried hair clung in stringy clumps to my scalp and forehead. “Looks like you got a lot off your chest last night. Good thing you are only getting a wash because your pores are all open.”
Nervous laughter filled the shop.
“Any cute dudes at the spot?” Peaches turned my chair around so I couldn’t see what she was doing and faced Porsche.
“Not really. No one to put in my pocket and bring home. Good dancers though, one had me questioning how solid his spine was the way his body bent.” Porsche smiled and bristled. “Better than the dance therapy was the food. Omigosh, Anisa ordered some slap ya aunty from N’Awlins yummy calamari. Cajun dipping sauce made by some special chef they hired. Girl, you should come next time.”
The cough from my throat said shut up more than it cleared my air passage. Peaches once or twice a month in her salon, cool. On the weekend away from Macon when I’m dancing with someone who wasn’t related to her and named Wilson ... um NO!
“Busy as you are on Friday evenings I’m sure that isn’t even a thought.” Porsche picked up a magazine from Danielle’s station.
“That and little ms college prep here would lose a lung fake coughing all night. Trust, I’m aware of how awkward it would look for me to be out with you without Wilson, though I knew you first.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s go to the shampoo bowl.”
Peaches washed my hair and massaged my scalp better than ... I hadn’t had any other hairstylists than Peaches. She put conditioner in my hair, wrapped my head with a towel with a cap over it and placed me under the dryer. Twenty minutes later, she rinsed out the conditioner and started blow-drying my hair.
Ten scenarios ran through my brain. All my hair on the ground was the result of four of them. Good sense told me to wait until my appointment was finished to tell her about my decision to go natural. Of all the people’s opinions in the case, Peaches mattered most to me because my change of hair affected her livelihood. She wasn’t poor due to a full roster of clients but any good business owner hated to see a repeat client walk away. In a perfect world I’d tell her my decision and she would say ‘Girl, yeah! I’ve been wanting to expand my clientele to natural styles and am looking into learning Sisterlocks.’ Worst case if I opened my mouth, I'd be looking at clumps of hair on the floor. Anyone with good sense knew not to get between a sistah and her money.
Peaches turned me around to see the mirror. My hair was big, wavy and bouncy like Farrah Fawcett. I handed her the fee for a wash and style with a seven-dollar tip. The extra two dollars above my normal tip was to soften the blow of my announcement.
“You ever been to the natural hair show, Peaches?” A crack in my voice sent me to the water dispenser across from her station.
“Yeah, not the hair part but I went to the fashion show. I respect the chicks doing that natural hair because they have some cute styles it just wasn’t my scene then plus I had clients booked that day, you know how rare it is for me to take a Saturday off.” Peaches leaned against her station.
“Yeah.” I convinced myself she wouldn’t even miss my little money and me. “You ever think about doing natural hair, you know like transitioning people, twists and stuff?”
“Girl yeah!” Peaches laughed so hard she doubled over. “I’ve been doing natural hair to expand my clientele before the show and especially since it become such a big trend.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Really, I didn’t know you were into it. How much do you charge?”
“The usual price. The only time I’m doing natural hair is when I’m putting a relaxer in it.” Peaches doubled over and laughed until she couldn’t breathe.
Porsche smiled at me from Danielle’s station.
“Danielle, do you do natural hair?” My eyes followed Porsche’s as the flat iron slid through Porsche’s hair.
“Don’t make her laugh while she doing my hair. My skin ain’t as flawless as Zoe’s but I like not having any big burns across my forehead.” Porsche looked up where her stylist's hands lifted a new partition of hair.
“You know I don’t burn people ... not since I got my licensed anyway.” Danielle made eye contact with Peaches who stopped laughing and stood straight as a street post.
Peaches cleared her throat.
“Naw, little bit. Even if I didn’t, you know I couldn’t take you on as a client unless Peaches referred you. We don’t get down like that round here.” Danielle said.
“Understood. Well I guess this was my last appointment.” Invisible cotton filled every crevice of my mouth. I never broke up with a hair stylist, or anyone after my middle school boyfriend Tyrone Blinkston. He didn’t speak to me for a week.
“You need to do better than guess. I have plenty of people who want your time but I held it for you because you s’posed to almost be family. Wilson knows you about to go natural?” Peaches rolled her eyes.
I nodded.
“Well, you need to decide because you're scheduled for your touch up next appointment.” Porsche pulled out her iPad and looked at a calendar application.
“You all high tech go head.” The hand I lifted for a pound hovered awkward and alone in the air.
“Not everyone has to be a college graduate to be bout they business, college prep. Don’t play I’m about to delete your standing appointment. Tell me now. You'll be treated like a new client with new rates and everything when you come back.” Peaches finger hovered over her screen.
More cotton filled the space between my gums and lips. “I’m sure.”
Peaches rolled her eyes, shrugged and pressed the screen. “Fine. Good luck with that.”
“Peaches ...Well, I’m famished. Meet me across the street at the deli when you’re done, Porsche. See you around, Danielle.” The half wave I forced myself to give everyone felt like the beginning of a flip off. My parents, godmother and professors prepared me to deal with cheating boys, lying girlfriends, mean teachers and power hungry bosses. No one told me about the ache in my heart for having to leave my hair stylist.
Two sodas and a doughnut later, Porsche joined me at our cozy corner. Our deli doubled as a coffee shop, spoken word cafe and sandwich spot depending on the day and time you visited it.
“She took that a little hard, and she was a bit harsh. You offered to let her do it, I mean dang.” Porsche sipped strawberry shake through a fat straw.
“This is crazy. No one said boo when I dyed my hair Keyshia Cole red sophomore year of high school or back to chestnut the next year. I’ve colored my hair with kool-aid and put weave in for Halloween. But now I want to wear it the way God made it and everyone is giving me flavor including ... Why aren’t you giving me attitude about doing this, like everyone else?”
“Anisa, I’m tripping that you even care. You’ve never cared what anyone else thought when you did all of that stuff to your hair, refused to give up them Ugly Betty glasses to get contacts because you looked smart or when you vowed not to wear tight jeans for all of junior year because Tommy Thigpen squeezed your booty.” Porsche sat her glass down. “Don’t worry about who thinks you should do what with your hair. Be you, do what is in your heart. That is the only thing that will make you happy, changing your hair isn’t hurting anyone ... for long as I can remember you’ve sweated and squirmed through relaxers, so give it a rest. Come back or don’t. Get a buzz cut or glue in four feet of hair, just do what you wanna do. It’s your head. You stare at in the mirror every morning. Bump everyone else.”
***
So many people attended the World Natural Hair Show from Macon one of the beauty supply companies decided to sponsor a special hair expo in Macon. Unable to locate a stylist, I accepted Ebonee offered no true support, I cleared my schedule to attend the “Transition Now” traveling hair show. One of the representatives from the World Natural Hair Show passed out samples of the product.
“Let’s welcome our host stylist who contacted us and helped us get this event done right here in Bibb County, Tanya Bradley! Give her a hand ladies.” A young woman I didn’t recognize from the World Natural Hair Show with a large beautiful curly fro led us in clapping for Tanya.
My heartbeat sped up as I realized my stylist problem might be solved. Tanya stood and waved. Curly Fro girl motioned for her to come to the front of the room and say a few words.
“Hi, everyone. As Vera said I’m a local stylist in Macon and I specialize in natural hair with eight years of experience transitioning clients from relaxed to natural. My clients include local celebrities, businesswomen and students. So see me after the presentation at my table and I’ll be happy to schedule a consultation appointment.” Tanya returned to her seat.
The desire to do a cartwheel or at least celebratory dance died down, Vera began her presentation. Key covered much of what she discussed so my mind wandered to more pressing matters with my graduation party and Wilson. The big bouquet of lilac orchids softened me up more than I admitted when he called me later that night to apologize again.
One of the things I enjoyed better about this transitional event was that we heard from multiple vendors and experts, which gave more perspectives. Once everyone finished, we spoke one on one with each of the presenters. I made a beeline to Tanya Bradley’s table.
Mannequin heads with different natural styles sat on different display levels next to a laptop with a slideshow of clients.
“Hi, I’m Anisa, do you have a card? I’d like to call and make an appointment.”
“Well, I have my tablet, we can make your appointment right now. What works for you weekends or weekdays?”
“Both, I’m a student so I can come early afternoon or Saturday.” This felt like some kind of weird déjà vu, if I believed in that kind of thing.
“How about next Wednesday 1:30pm?” Tanya looked at her tablet.
“Perfect.” My cheeks hurt I smiled so hard.
***
“Only a few more weeks until graduation, you’ll be out here with us grown folks in the real world. You think you ready for all of this?” Wilson leaned against the counter in his kitchen. “It’s different when Daddy and Momma stop paying the bills.”
An overwhelming desire to roll my eyes lurked below my pupils. His frequent mention of the financial support my parents offered seemed like admiration in our early dating days but as of late felt like envy. “My parents followed my uncle’s advice and started a college fund for me. We’re not rich. I worked during the summers in or out of school to make up the difference when my scholarship awards weren’t enough. So I’ve been in the real world with other grown folks for quite some time, thank you!”
“Don’t be offended, Nisa. It’s just hard for me to think of you not in school. One of us has been in school since we’ve been together. At one point I considered going back for my master’s but the thought of adding more to my debt,” His head shook. He pulled a Heineken from the refrigerator. “Naw, I’ll wait until I pay off the loans I have now before I get anymore debt or I’ll still be paying on my education when our kids are leaving home.”
The air in the room felt warmer when he said “our kids.” My shoulders relaxed a bit. I smiled. He hadn’t talked about our future since I told him my decision to go natural. When the third bouquet of purple orchids arrived at my apartment, I knew I’d forgive him. I forced myself to wait a day before I called to give us both a little more time to think.
“Earth to Anisa.” He waved his hands in front of my face. “Where did you just go?”
“Oh, my bad. Thinking about all the changes coming over the next few months. I'm graduating. My fellowship is starting and transitioning my hair. So different from this time last year. I’m not scared, little overwhelmed.” Two plates in hand from the counter, I followed him into the dining room.
“I planned to tell you, your hair looks really nice tonight.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Let me grab you a soda from the fridge so we can eat and go watch this show. I can’t believe you got me caught up in this drama.”
“Don’t sleep, Olivia Pope is the chick.” A strand of wavy hair escaped its hiding place behind my ear.
“I’m sure I’d be getting more sleep if I didn’t stay up Thursday nights watching this drama with you.” He placed the soda next to my plate.
“You love every minute of it.” Another hair joined the earlier defector.
“That new style really does look good on you. Peaches did a great job. I knew she’d hook you up instead of letting you advance into the woolly mammoth days.” He chuckled.
“No, Peaches doesn’t do natural hair, unless she is relaxing it.” It should have felt childish mimicking her voice but it didn’t. “I met Tanya at the hair expo that came to the hotel. You know Sunday afternoon.”
“You’re serious about this back to the motherland crap. This is a trend. In a few months, these chicks will be slapping weaves and perms back in their hair. I know you, you’ll still be trying to muscle through and make it work.” He pretended to wrestle with a head full of hair that wouldn’t be tamed.
I laughed at him. “You are so silly. This was cute a minute ago, when you thought Peaches did it. Now I’m wrestling with an afro the size of a rose bush. Boy stop.”
“I mean it’s still cute but not how your hair is going to look when you stop getting relaxers and you don’t know how nappy it is. If it wasn’t nappy, you’re mom wouldn’t have put chemicals in it.” Wilson raised one eyebrow as if he’d discovered the answer to the hardest quadratic equation known to man.
“That better be close to the last time you call my hair nappy. You're being unreasonable. Peaches told me she didn’t do natural hair, so I found someone to accommodate me. End of discussion.” My arms crossed and neck rolled before I could get my emotions under control.
“That is not the end of the discussion. I fell in love with long, flowing silky straight sexy haired Anisa, not big bush hair afro chick. You’ve seen photos of my exes none of them have curly hair, not one. You need to stop being so selfish.” Wilson chuckled and smiled as my eyes rolled.
“Here I was thinking you loved me for who I am not what I look like, but I’ll be sure to remember what this relationship is really about for you. I’m not going to say that I haven’t thought about how changing my hair would change my appearance ... I have. Silly me, I believed you loved me enough to want me to be happy even if that meant changing my hair, or makeup.” I matched his smirk with a hard frown. “At least now I know if I became disfigured or had a disorder that changed how I looked this is how you’d respond.”
“Kill the drama That isn’t what is happening you’re changing your hair because it is some crazy trend like asymmetrical haircuts back in the 90s. Be an individual. Don’t go natural because everyone else is doing it. Leave your hair alone. It works for you.” Wilson’s finger traced from my ear to right beneath the corner of my mouth. “You’re perfect the way you look now, the same way you looked when I met you.”
“I’m going natural.” Anisa tightened her already tight crossed arms.
“So you’re ignoring my feelings, taking money out of my cousin's pockets and not even sure if you’re gonna like your natural hair. Real smart. You may be graduating with honors and have a promising career but this is just dumb. You’re jeopardizing everything to try a new look.” Wilson crossed his arms and shook his head.
“You’re entitled to your opinion, Wilson, and I respect you don’t like the decision I’ve made about my hair. If it is too much for you, the good news is you don’t have to look at it.” I drained the contents of my glass.
“C’mon Anisa. This is supposed to be our makeup dinner, don’t do this again.” Wilson picked up his fork.
The piece of steak I ate was so good. I realized he'd lose more than he thought he would. My cousins told me how most young girls weren’t able to boil water without burning the pot. Wilson could posture and complain all he wanted. He wouldn’t find another like me, “nappy hair or not” if he searched all over the world. “I’m not doing anything. You need to make up your mind about being in a relationship with me, when I decide to chop my hair off or the relaxer grows out. Because bottom line, I’m in this for the long haul not because it’s trendy.”
Chapter 6
Tanya’s shop differed from Peaches in only a few ways. The walls were covered with art instead of hair posters or framed covers from hair magazines. A waterfall sat next to a tea and coffee station. Instead of pop and hip-hop music, neo soul and conscious rap by someone name General Heat played in the background. The smell of chemicals didn’t hang in the air, although there was the distinct odor of pressed or heat-treated hair. As I arrived, a woman with straight hair styled in big barrel curls walked out of the salon. My curiosity piqued, I almost ran to Tanya’s booth.
“Anisa, right?” Big wavy curls replaced the curly fro she sported at the Transition Now expo. “I love that top.”
“Thank you.” My smile felt forced. Last time I told her I was almost positive I wanted to big chop so my hair could grow over the summer. Dinner with Wilson confused me, again. Tanya smiled as I took a slow seat in her chair.
“You’re not ready?” She shook her head and laughed. “It's okay, Anisa. Changing your hair from a style you’ve worn most of your life isn’t easy. I’ve told several of my clients to go back to relaxers, miserable trying to be natural. This is not for everyone.”
