Unbeweaveable (10 page)

Chips and Queso

After following the tow truck and getting everything handled with her car Renee asked if we wanted to get something to eat.

At the mention of food, my stomach growled in anticipation of being fed. In all the rushing this morning I had skipped breakfast.

Renee laughed. “I take that as a yes.”

“If you don't mind, I'll just go home,” Beverly said.

“Aww, Mama, come on. It'll be like old times when we used to get our hair done and grab something to eat afterward.”

My jaw clenched and I turned away.
She never took me out to eat…

“No, really, you girls have fun.”

We all climbed back into the car and drove Beverly back to the condo. “You girls have a good time,” she said, getting out of the car.

Renee rolled down the window while I got out and sat in the passenger seat.

“You sure you don't want to change your mind?” Renee asked.

She looked at me, then shook her head. “No, thanks. Maybe next time.” She walked toward the front of the building.

“What happened?” Renee asked as she pulled away from her high-rise.

“I told you, I don't like my hair.”

“But why'd you have to go off on Mama like that? She was so excited about spending time with you this morning—”

“I'm sure.”

“What is with you?”

“Nothing! I'm just still adjusting to everything. A lot has happened and…” I trailed off and felt those stupid tears trying to make a comeback. I licked my lips.
Don't even think about it. I'm still bloody from the last time you tried it.

My threat worked and no tears fell.

I missed New York. I missed the noise, I missed the Indian guy who sold pretzels on Eighteenth Street, I missed walking to work and seeing a couple fight on the sidewalk, or a homeless man screaming at the top of his lungs that the world would end. Now I was back at a place I didn't want to be, in a city that brought back so many painful memories that I felt like crying every second. I rubbed my hand over my hair. My weave was who I was, and losing it felt like losing a foot. I was going through phantom pain, it felt like it was there, but every time the wind blew or when I touched my hair, I realized it was gone, and the knowledge of its absence made my stomach burn.

We drove for several minutes and pulled into a Mexican restaurant that I had never heard of.

“You ready?” she said, taking the keys out the ignition.

“Sure,” I said, following her inside the restaurant.

“I figured you would want Mexican. I didn't see you eat anything last night.”

Technically she was right, considering I snuck in the kitchen at two in the morning and stuffed my face with beef fajitas until my stomach swelled like a watermelon.

“That's true,” I said, as we followed the hostess to a table that screamed of a bad Southwestern designer. She told us our waitress would be with us shortly as she handed us our menus and took our drink order.

“Don't you think it's a little early to be drinking?” Renee asked after I told the hostess that I wanted a margarita.

“It's past noon. It's lunchtime. What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I guess. I just don't like to drink.”

“At all? No alcohol?”

“No.”

“After everything that's happened to me today, I think I deserve a little liquor.”

“Maybe it's the liquor that caused what happened today,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Mama says you were acting funny today. Were you drinking? Is that what caused the accident?”

“No! Man, Renee, you should know better than to ask me that—”

“That's the problem, Mariah. I don't
know
you at all.”

We were silent as a young gentleman named Tony approached with my margarita and Renee's Diet Coke with lime. She ordered us chips and queso to start and then she ordered chicken enchiladas for her meal.

“And you,” he asked, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“I'll have the Tex-Mex platter,” I said.

“Very good,” he said. “Most people split it, but you look like the kind of woman who can handle the whole thing.”

He walked away before I could say something witty back and I looked back at Renee, who was stifling a laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing. It's just…it's good having you back home. I've missed you.”

I took a sip of my margarita and nodded. I didn't want to be reminded of Renee missing me. When her husband died last year, I'd flown down for the funeral but left the next day. Without saying goodbye. Sure, I could have called and checked on her, but I didn't. And I dodged all her phone calls, feeling guilty by the minute for her trying to reach out to me when I should have been the one who reached out to her. But I couldn't do it. She reminded me of everything I wanted to be. Everything I had—my weight, my hair, my looks, took work or money. Everything she had didn't cost her a thing. A natural beauty, Beverly called her.

“So, what else has been going on with you? Besides, you know, the obvious?”

“Nothing, really.”

“You don't have a boyfriend? Nobody back home that's missing you?”

“I can definitely say that no one is missing me back home.”

“What about your friend Norma?”

“Oh, yeah, well, she misses me. But she's married and pregnant. She's having a baby girl,” I said, more sadness in my voice than I liked.

“That's a good thing, right?”

“Oh, yeah. She's going to be a great mother. She's coming to visit soon.”

“That would be nice. We could all get together and have a girls' night! That would be so much fun.”

I got the impression that Renee didn't have many female friends and asked her about it.

She shrugged. “I have acquaintances, you know, people I can go shopping with and go to the movies with. Nobody really close. Since Peter's death I haven't felt like doing much,” she said, tearing pieces off her paper napkin.

Renee got married at twenty-one. I was a junior at NYU. I balked at the idea of being her maid of honor, but finally relented and walked down the aisle in a pink fitted gown that made me look like a piece of cotton candy on a burnt stick. Peter was a decent enough man; at fifty-six he still looked young enough to have fun. Beverly was proud that all her hard work paid off; she sat in the front row, crying like a baby, as if her world would end when Renee got married. I never thought Peter's death affected Renee—I always thought that she married him for his money. And money is what she had; Peter had been worth millions, and, without a prenup, all that money landed in Renee's lap. Not that I would have noticed—she never offered me a dime and I never asked for one. Until now.

“Well, maybe you should try to start having some fun. What have you been doing all day? Beverly mentioned some kind of volunteer work?”

She shrugged. “It's nothing. I go around and talk to high schools about the dangers of underage drinking.”

“I guess getting a real job is something you don't have to worry about.”

“What do you mean, getting a real job?”

“Oh, come on, Renee. You volunteer because you're bored, not because you have to or anything.”

“I do it because I like it and I'm good at it.”

“Shopping is something you're good at. If they paid you to do that, then you'd be a millionaire. Oh, I forgot, you already are one.”

Renee stopped eating. “I'm going to ask you one more time, Mariah, what's eating you? You've had an attitude since you got off the plane. I've tried to ignore it, tried to look past it, but it's getting really old.”

“You would have an attitude too if you lost your job and had to go around looking like Sinead O' Conner. I miss my hair, my career, my life!” I sank down in my chair. “This isn't how things were supposed to turn out.”

“You think you're the only one going through change here? My husband died last year. And I know what you think, I know what everybody thought—I married Peter for the money. But I loved him. And it's hard now to start over.”

“Sorry.”

She picked up her fork and started eating again.

“I'm really sorry, okay? Sometimes I forget about your…about Peter. I'm sorry. And I'll try to fix my attitude.”

“With Mama, too?”

“Now you're pushing it,” I said taking a sip of my margarita. “Her stylist didn't even know I existed before today.”

“Henry has a short attention span. He only hears what he wants to hear.”

“Still, that bothered me. Being back in Houston makes me feel like I'm ten years old all over again.” I rubbed my hands over the nape of my neck and bristled at the thought of my weave being gone.

“Mama treated us both differently. You don't think it bothered me when we were younger that she pushed you so hard for an education? She never pushed me to do homework. She always used me for her shopping or makeup tips. I would have liked to come home with an ‘A' every once in a while. But in the end, she's still my mama. And she did the best she could by us.”

We sat silent for a while, both of us eating fast to avoid more conversation.

“I'm speaking at Druid Monday. You want to come?” Renee asked.

“Sure. What else do I have going on?”

She smiled.

Pride

Renee surprised me by pulling up into a Sprint store and letting me pick out a new cell phone, which I begrudgingly accepted. She picked out the newest Blackberry, complete with touch screen and everything.

“I don't think I need all this,” I said, although my hands were shaking at the mere thought of having an old friend back. My cell phone was often glued to my ear in New York, and it broke my heart to have to end my service. Now I felt like I was part of human civilization again.

“Sure you do. It's really neat; I just bought Mama one last week. We'll take it,” she said to the overworked sales clerk.

“Renee, are you sure?” I asked, cringing at the price. “I really don't need all this.”

“You need a phone, Mariah. Just relax, okay? While you're staying with me I plan on taking care of you.”

I didn't want her taking care of me. I wanted to take care of myself. The sooner I found a job, the better.

“Thanks for the phone,” I said as we walked back to the car.

“No problem,” she said, starting the car and maneuvering back into the heavy afternoon traffic.

“And I'm really sorry about the car,” I said in a small voice.

“Again, no problem. As long as you weren't hurt.”

“I hope you don't think I'm going to just lounge around the house all day. I plan on looking for a job soon.”

“I know. But why don't you take a break for a little while? You've been working non-stop for twelve years. It won't kill you to take some time off. On my dime, of course.”

“I'm not a mooch.”

“Did I say you were?”

I couldn't imagine a day not going to work. What would I do all day if I didn't work? Sit at home and watch TV. I shuddered. The thought of watching daytime television made my skin crawl.

Renee seemed to sense my hesitation. “Let's say you were looking for a job. What would you want to do?”

“I want to see if I can do something I'm experienced in. I graduated with a degree in journalism and I haven't done any
real
journalism. While I have this chance I need to get my feet wet and go back to my roots. I'd like to see if any newspapers are hiring.”

“I understand, but why don't you hold off for a month? Take this time to find out what you really want to do.”

“I guess.”

“And if you need anything, just ask.”

“Why didn't you loan me enough money so I could keep my apartment and stay in New York?”

“Whoa, that came from nowhere. Okay, since we're going there, why didn't you ever
invite
me to New York so I could
see
this fabulous apartment of yours?”

“Touché.”

“You never asked me for money, Mariah. But if you had asked, you know I would have given it to you. You just let your pride get in the way.”

“Sometimes, pride is all a girl has left.”

Door Chimes

Before we left the parking lot, Renee stopped to get gas.

“You need something?” she asked, clicking off the ignition to go inside to pay.

“No, I'm—” And that's when I saw it. The words—
Beauty
Supply
— glowing in red letters next door to the gas station.

“Hello?” Renee said, waving her hand in front of my face. “Do you need something or not?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. No, I'm good.” I got out of the car. “You mind if I go in that store real quick and look around?” I asked, pointing to the Beauty Supply.

She shrugged. “That's fine.”

We went our separate ways and I pulled open the door and heard a chime go off to alert the owners another customer had entered.

“Hello,” a small Asian man said. A woman, who I assumed was his wife, was kneeling, stocking a shelf full of beauty products. She threw me a limp smile, then put her head back to her work.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his accent thick as an elephant's belly.

“Um…can I look at some of your hair?”

He smiled and then stepped up behind a platform where rows upon rows of hair weave went up to the ceiling.

“What kind?”

“Indian Remy. Jet black.”

He pulled a silver package of hair and opened it for my inspection.

“Good hair,” he said. “The best.”

“Yes, I know,” I said, running my fingers through the silky strands. I sighed and tried to remember the feeling of it in my head. It wasn't the brand I used—Tameka ordered my hair online—but it was close enough.

“You want it?” he asked, sliding the hair from my hands.

“Wait.” I pulled the hair back and kept running my hands through it.

“Ma'am, are you ready to pay? I have other customers.”

“Yes. I mean…no. I don't have any money…”

He shook his head and slid the fine, Indian hair back into its protective plastic covering. I snatched it back from him.

“I'm not finished looking.”

He held on to the hair and we began a tug of war over a package of hair weave.

“Ma'am, you have money?”

“No,” I said, holding on to the hair for dear life.

“Then. Let. Go.”

His wife stood up behind me and said something in Korean. “Call police,” she said finally, her English broken and heavy.

Just let go,
a voice said inside me.
Just let go of it.

“Mariah!”

Renee's voice brought me back to reality and I let go of the hair. He stumbled backwards and then regained his balance.

“Get out of here, crazy woman! Get out of my store!”

“Mariah, what's going on?”

“You heard the man, Renee. Let's get out of here.”

I rushed past her, and pulled the door open to go outside, that stupid chime ringing like alarms in my ears.

She followed me. “What was going on in there? Were you trying to steal a bag of hair?”

“No,” I said, standing next to her car. She unlocked it and I got in, resisting the urge to cry for the second time today.

“Then what were you doing?”

“I was just looking at it, okay? That's all.”

She threw me a weird look, but said nothing as she peeled out of the parking lot.