Bed
head: Sleeping on natural hair without prepping it leads to what I call bed
head. Your hair is coarse and matted to your head. Basically, it is not in any
state for public viewing.
~~~
Hair
tip#15: If you happened to fall asleep without braiding, twisting, or banding
your hair first, try wetting it in the shower and blowing it out on a low
setting.
~~~
Trent
didn't stop singing all the way to my apartment. I don't think he knew where he
was or where he was going, but he really didn't care. He was just plain happy.
Once
we were up stairs in my apartment I said, "Alright, you can have the
couch."
"Awesome,"
he said giving me the thumbs up.
"Well,
I'm going to sleep."
"Sleep
later. Let's dance." He wrapped his arms around me and started swaying to
nonexistent music.
"Trent,
there's no music." I started to push him back toward the couch.
"I
can sing."
"Yes,
I know that. You've been singing for the last twenty minutes. I think it's time
to sleep now."
He
let me go and said, "Yeah, you're probably right. Where am I?"
"You're
at my place. You're too drunk to drive and I didn't know where you lived."
Taking
off his shirt he said, "Okay." He shrugged and plopped on the couch.
He
was so easy going like this. I didn't know how I would be able to go back to
the old Trent.
I
started to walk away when he grabbed my hand and pulled me back. "Thank
you, Mahogany," he said suddenly sounding sober.
"You're
welcome." I tried to pull my hand away but he had a tight grip. For the
first time that night, I realized what I had just done. I had brought a
drunk
man that I barely knew into my home. What was I
thinking? What if he tried to hurt me? I hadn't even considered that
possibility. Now I started to get a little frightened. But what he did next
shocked me even more.
He
kissed my hand and said, "I love you."
I
laughed. I knew he was talking crazy. I knew for a fact that he had no interest
in black girls. Wow, alcohol turned him into a completely different person.
"You're drunk, Trent. Just go to sleep."
Pulling
me down on top of him, he stared into my eyes and said, "I might be drunk,
but I know what I'm saying. I love you. I love everything about you. I love
your smile. I love your laugh. I love your hair." He smiled at me like a
child and said, "Can I touch it? I've always wanted to touch it."
Too
shocked to speak I just nodded.
How
did I get into this position? Lying on top of a
drunk
man who was now playing in my hair. My chest was on top of his moving in
rhythm. His right hand was on the small of my back keeping me in place as his
left hand squeezed the curls of my afro. I should have gotten off of him, but I
had to admit, it felt kind of good. My hand secretly rubbed against the muscles
of his chest.
"It's
so soft," he whispered. Trent leaned forward and took in a deep breath.
"It smells good, too."
"Thanks?"
It was more of a question than a statement. I was just so completely confused.
Leaning
back again, he said, "You have this black freckle on the right side of
your neck that might be the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my life." He
gently rubbed the right side of my neck and added, "I day dream about it
so much that sometimes I can't get any work done."
It
was a cute little confession of love, but I knew he was just drunk. He wouldn't
remember any of this in the morning. But since I hadn't had a warm body under
me in a while, I just played along.
"Really, Trent?
And how long have you had these
feelings for me?"
Trent
closed his eyes and started breathing evenly. I thought he had fallen asleep
until he opened his eyes and said, "Six months, two weeks, and five days."
That's
when I realized he was serious. I hopped up off of him and said, "Good
night, Trent." But as I went to sleep that night, I tried my best to think
about what happened six months, two weeks, and five days ago that would cause
him to feel this way.
~~~
When
you go natural, you can't really just go to bed and wake up expecting to be
able to manage your hair in the morning. You see, what happens is, your hair
gets all flat and matted as you sleep. Last night my hair was a nice fluffy
afro. This morning it looked like two inches of black knots. I yawned and
stretched then grabbed my moisturizer. Good thing it was a Saturday. It was
going to take me a good three hours to get my hair soft again.
Soft.
Someone else had just called my
hair soft. Trent. He spent the night, didn't he? I
peeked
my head through my bedroom door and got a glimpse of the tall half naked man
sleeping on my couch.
What
on Earth was I thinking? How could I let a drunk stranger just spend the night?
Was I drunk too?
Trent
moaned and I slammed my door shut. I couldn't let him see me like this. I had
to figure out something to do with my hair. Even though I really didn't care
what Trent thought of me, no one deserved to see me with bed head. It was a
pretty tragic sight.
Although
considering what he told me last night, maybe he needed to see me like this.
That would cure whatever infatuation he thought he had with me.
I
shook my head. What he said last night was just the ramblings of an intoxicated
fool. There was no way Trent Bishop had any real feelings for me.
I
spritzed my hair with my water and coconut oil mixture. Once it was saturated,
I worked my crème moisturizer through it. Slowly I molded my hair into
something more appealing.
My
hair was still too tightly coiled to make a nice afro puff. So instead, I made
a part down the middle of my head and created two little afro puffs.
When
I finished, I opened my door a crack and peeked through. Trent hadn't moved.
Maybe I should check for a pulse, I thought. Of course, I decided against it. I
didn't want to get too close to his naked chest again.
Instead,
I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. When it was finished, I
brought a cup over to the couch. I stared at him for a while.
Breathing in and out.
There was still a streak of dirt on
his chest from his dirty cop costume. Most of it had been wiped away while he
was dancing with every girl in the office. Or I guess it could have come off
while I was lying on top of him last night.
Okay,
I needed to stop thinking about him like this. That meant he needed to get up.
Now.
I
reached over and nudged his shoulder. He groaned and turned over. I thumped him
in the head.
Nothing.
I needed to get serious. I held
his coffee cup next to his head and then flicked some of the liquid on him with
my finger. That did it.
"Stop.
What are you doing?" he
whined in a husky voice as he put his arm over his face.
"It's
time to wake up, Trent."
I
saw his back tense up at the sound of my voice. He rolled on to his back and
stared straight up at the ceiling as if he was afraid to look around.
"Where
am I?" he asked blinking rapidly. Apparently, my ceiling looked somehow
different
from his own
.
"You're
at my place."
"Mahogany,"
he said without looking at me. It wasn't a question. It was like he knew
exactly who I was just by the sound of my voice. He didn't even sound
surprised. "Oh God, what did I do?" He sat up quickly then grabbed
his head and lay back down.
Instead
of answering, I sipped my coffee. I thought he'd need a few sips of coffee before
he heard about how he almost stripped in front of the entire office.
A
few moments later, Trent turned and looked at me through his fingers. "Did
we...did we ... you know?"
"No,
we didn't."
He
sighed. "Thank, God."
"Hey,
what's that supposed to mean?" I asked slightly offended.
"No....I
didn't mean..." He closed his eyes and sat up slowly this time. Once he
was in a seated position he took a sip of coffee then he said, "Trust me,
if we had done something, you'd be regretting it much more than I would."
Now
I was even more confused. "What's that supposed to mean? Do you have an
STD or something?"
Trent
choked
on his coffee. "No...No...I just...Look let's
start over. Uh, why am I here?"
"You
were too drunk to drive and I didn't know where you lived."
"Oh."
He took another sip of coffee. "Thank you."
We
sat in awkward silence for a while.
"I
bet I was out of control last night," he said finally.
"You
were...interesting," I said unable to think of a more appropriate word. I
could have said he was nice, amiable, conversational, or pleasant. But that
didn't seem like a good way to describe someone who was blackout drunk.
"Interesting?"
he asked calling my bluff.
"Well,
talkative," I added.
He
paled.
Which was pretty hard to do considering he was already
pretty pale.
He just turned downright ghostly.
"Did
I...say anything... um... to you?"
I
thought about rubbing his proclamation of love to me in his face, but that
would have been cruel. I could tell by the fearful look in his eyes that he
obviously didn't mean it. He would have been horrified and embarrassed.
I
also had to remember that we worked together. If it ever got out what he said
last night, even if it was false, it might still be awkward between us. If I
kept it to myself, we might be able to go back to our strained, slightly polite
work relationship. With all this in mind, I answered his question.
"No,
you didn't say anything in particular to me."
He
let out a big sigh of relief. "Good, that's good," he said, setting
down his cup of coffee and looking around my couch.
"Your
shirt is there," I said pointing to where it was sticking out from under
the cushion.
"Thanks.
I'm just going to wash up and, uh, get out of your hair," he said
standing.
"Bathroom?"
"First door on the
left."
As
soon as he went into the bathroom, there was a knock on my door.
"
Vinny
?" I said when I answered it.
"Hey,
Mags
," he said.
I
looked at my watch. I couldn't remember the last time
Vinny
was out of bed before eleven let alone at 7:58 in the morning. This had to be
important.
"Are
you okay?" I asked a little worried.
"Yeah,
I'm fine.
Totally, fine.
I’m seeing someone."
“Good.
Good for you.” Of course, I didn’t mean that. He was my ex. Of course, I wanted
him to be miserable for the rest of his life. But the way he said it kind of
made me think he was lying. Why would he volunteer that information literally
three seconds after I opened the
door.
“You
seeing anyone?” he asked suspiciously. Did he really just knock on my door at
8am on a Saturday to inquire about my love life?
“No,”
I said simply. I should have lied, too, but I didn’t see the need. I was above
stupid little games. “So, why are you here so early in the morning? What do you
want?" I asked. His presence was actually starting to annoy me.
"It
took a while, but I finally got the house in order. You know, our house,"
he said.
I
rolled my eyes. “I never asked you for a house. It's not
our
house. It's
your
house."
"Maggie,
don't be like this. You know I bought it for
us
. You know how I feel about you. It's been six months and I still
feel the same."
This
was so not a good time. I was just at the point when I thought I could actually
get over him and move on. For a second I thought I might even be in to Trent.
Oh God. Trent was still here.
As
soon as I thought his name he emerged from the bathroom as if I had summoned
him from my mind.
"Who
is that?"
Vinny
said pushing past me.
This
was so not happening.
"You
must be
Vinny
," Trent said calmly as he buttoned
his shirt.
This
looked bad. This looked so bad. I'm sure
Vinny
assumed
Trent had spent the night...which he had, but it was completely innocent.
"I'm
Trent," he said after he finished the last button. He held out his hand
and added, "I work with Mahogany."