My Life A Strange Stream

You happened to be one of the few accommodating hair stylists out there, having a gentle approach to the tender headed, coming in early and staying late for certain clients if needed. Being pretty fair you did not over-charge for hairstyles like these new hair stylists on the scene often did and took the time to perfect your craft. Doing hair started young for you; the love for hair and tending to your own was the beginning of a eye-opening journey once many salons made you feel demeaned  about your texture.

From begging your mom to not drag you to the salons at the age of six to learning what best works for your texture at ten was a whole new awakening for you. Your mother couldn’t do a thing with your hair and wanted it to be relaxed (just like her own) since she wouldn’t take the time or knew how to best manage it. The moment she relaxed your hair, your grandfather let her have it, shockingly. Normally most men stayed out of women’s business (if they knew what was good for them) especially when it came to hair. Your grandfather became a single father having to raise your mother all on his own, after your grandmother passed with kidney disease when your mother was fifteen.

You learned that your grandfather knew how to tend to your mother’s hair—this was something your mother did not want to share. He told you that he tried his best to encourage your mother to love what grew from her scalp just like his wife did. You’ve seen many pictures of your grandmother who always sported a gorgeous fro in every photo.

The photo you adored the most was a picture of her in her wedding dress, looking over her shoulder, light in her eyes, and a forget me not tucked into her fro.

It was beautiful how carefree she seemed, a smile always on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. That’s how you wanted to be, not only in life but with the hair on your head as well.

There were many times that you wished you got the chance to meet your grandmother. Both of your grandparents were also involved in the civil rights movement and your grandfather seemed to be the only person that didn’t mind sharing his story. You were thankful since it seemed like any conversation that you wanted to have was deemed as you talking back—words by your mother, which was a issue.

It was evident that there were deep-rooted problems with your mother that she wasn’t ready to address yet. You tried your hardest to be empathetic but also realized, thanks to your therapist, that it isn’t only your job to connect with your mother. You were healing from your own childhood trauma that she was part of and you didn’t hate her but distance was needed. Love shouldn’t be heavy, especially when it came to the woman that once held you in her womb.

And so you dealt with her verbal abuse as a kid until spending summers in Georgia with your grandfather gave you purpose. You had the idea with your grandfather at just eleven years old to cut your damaged hair off. Your grandfather did the honors of buzzing the rest off for you in the pink tile bathroom and the twinkle that appeared in your eye afterwards…matched his late wife’s.

That moment was kept a secret during your two month stay and you actually did some heads for the very first time for kids on the cul- de-sac. Your grandfather witnessed this with pride and even took you to a salon where you met a woman named Carlotta. She was welcoming and encouraging after learning that you worked on two kid’s heads that came to see her occasionally. Carlotta even let you work in the shop twice a week during your stay and once you started working on a few adults heads (a choice you did on your own after she was dealing with her own personal issues) at eleven years old? She told you had a gift and you knew your purpose.

Now you were running late to the shop, knowing you were pushing it by the time you were fumbling with your hair in the bathroom. The change in weather was making your hair dry and it was time that you did a hair mask soon. You knew your god-brother would give you a mouth-full if you didn’t take care of it before he did your first wig-install in two weeks.

Adding the right amount of oil to your hair and scalp, you combed, brushed, and decided to slick your hair into a Sade braid for the day, adding some elastics to sections of the braid to make it more fun. Once satisfied, you checked the time again as you got back into the bedroom, thankful that EZ made the bed for you and scrambled to grab your earmuffs and bag.

Your first appointment was at 8:45am and you already knew you were going to be somewhat late. Thankfully this appointment was a simple rod-set and wouldn’t take too much time to get your client done. Thudding down the steps of your bungalow, you heard your stomach rumbling and figured you’d just have to UberEATS breakfast to the shop.

Sitting on the bench, you shoved your feet into your trainers then reached for your black trench coat to place over your clothes for the workday.

“Hey. I know you’re not leaving without this.” Ez called out to you, most likely from the dining room.

Sending out a text to your god-brother, you slipped your bag onto your shoulder slightly jogging back to the dining room where your husband sat comfortably at the head of the table. Of course he looked amazing so early in the morning, snug long sleeve white-thermal shirt on, decorated with his tags and grey sweats on and his skin? We loved a moisturized king! He most likely got his pre-workout done already if he was having tea and oatmeal. Usually he only sat down for breakfast if he worked out already and didn’t need to be at the club until later that morning.

EZ looked up from his phone, his hand already held out your YETI which was filled with orange juice. “No coffee and heavy breakfast while you’re on the road. We both know how that doesn’t agree with your system. I already slipped a protein bar into your bag while you were in the shower and the real breakfast should be there by the time you get to the shop.”

“You’re a good man,” you cooed gripping Ez’s chin, his facial hair pricking your fingertips as you connected your lips.

Ez laughed into the kiss after a couple of pecks, “eh, depends who you ask mi amor.”

“I’m not asking anybody anything,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders, “I know my man.”

“Period, uh.” Ez slipped his hands beneath your trench coat to give your backside in your cozy sweats a nice squeeze.

Pointing at the man you said, “don’t ever do that again.”

Ez smiled up at you, “i promise I won’t. Have a good day sweetheart, let me know when you get there.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You kissed his lips again which made him lick his own.

“Mm, is that a brown sugar chapstick?”

“I have no idea. I just snatched whatever was in the night stand.” You breathed, stepping back from the man who simply nodded his head in understanding, “you heading to the club soon?”

“‘Round eleven or after. Gonna take Sally for a walk, nap and then head out,” EZ answered as he picked up his mug, “it’s your late day right?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “last client is coming in at five. Pray for me.”

“Always do.” Ez grinned, “I love when you do the braid by the way, allows me to see that prettiness in full.”

Having a good gulp of OJ you held out your hand to EZ, your wedding ring glistening in the dining room, which made him smile with fulfillment as he awaited your feedback, “keep treating me well and I might mess around and get pregnant with a real baby instead of a fur baby by new year’s.”

“Please tempt me with a good time.” Ez mentioned, sending a wink your way, making you groan and throw your head back.

Stomping out you yelled, “Bye, Ezekiel!”

“See you later!” Ez chuckled to himself, turning his attention back to his phone once you were out of his sight.

Thankful to have not only a loving husband and a automatic starter, that you forgot to start before Ez called you into the dining room, you flinched as your hands rested on the steering wheel. Immediately your hands went to mess with the knobs to crank the heat up, shaking your head at the brawny man for messing with the temperature in the car.

He was warm blooded and you were always cold. It was a whole debate inside of the house but in the car, you did not comprise despite the increase of gas prices. You couldn’t stand being cold and EZ knew that.

Checking the time again on the dashboard, you searched your glove department for your gloves, then the console, the backseat pockets, and the side holders in the doors but couldn’t find them. Sighing you threw the driver’s side door open again, allowing the winter air to bite at your cheeks as you jogged around your car and back to your home.

You just knew your gloves had to be on the bench and you previously overlooked them. Unlocking the door, which took a little bit of a tussle thanks to the cold, you made a mental note (that you would probably forget during the day) that you or EZ needed to use the WD-40 so neither of you didn’t experience a broken key again this winter.

Zoning in on the bench in the entry way, your eyes scanned the object and then you crouched down to the cubbies, feeling around for the gloves just to not locate them.

“Ez,” you called out, “have you seen my gloves? The Prada ones?”

Lifting your head, you spotted EZ standing down the hallway, your eyes shifting to Sally, your pitbull who had her paws resting up on his thighs, “Seriously? Take them off Sally.”

EZ smiled sheepishly at you as Sally peered over at you in annoyance. It was evident that your girl was sick of his mess too. He was a typical dog dad, taking the girl everywhere he could when he had the car, if you weren’t in the passenger seat you can only guess who was and forcing her into costumes when it was clear she didn’t care to be dressed up. He simply liked bothering your teenage fur baby, that’s all.

“I thought you’d be gone already and wouldn’t mind letting Sally borrow them on our walk,” Ez told you, while you stepped forward and held out your hands for the item.

Sighing Ez took them off Sally’s paws, who dropped them back to the wood floor and sat, watching the exchange.

“You got lucky this time, girl.” Ez pointed at Sally who just blinked and looked over at you.

“I know, he’s a real pain in the ass and if I had the time, I’d beat him up for you.” You told Sally who wagged her tail in response.

Ez huffed as he leaned over, slapping the gloves into your outstretched hands, “I just wanted to have a trial run with her since,” He whispered to you, “I got her some mitts for Christmas to protect her paws for our daily jogs and walks.”

“She’s not gonna wear them,” you shoved your hands into the gloves, “you know Sally trots to her own drum. She might even think they’re chew toys; you saw what she did to those Halloween costumes two months ago.”

Ez stretched at his brow, “have a little faith please. Maybe her favorite holiday is Christmas and she’ll be on her best behavior. We haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Her favorite holiday is sleeping and chewing shit up, then acting like she didn’t do it. It requires minimum effort on her part.”

Sally growled a bit before barking.

“I think you struck a nerve,” Ez joked, “and you might want to keep those gloves in the car if you know what’s good for you.”

Fanning your gloved hands at the two you spun on your heels, “On that note, I’m outta here. love you two, be good.”

“We love you too but…no promises.” Ez murmured as he smiled at your retreating form that began closing the front door, now putting a leash on Sally and giving her a good pet.

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