The Wisdom of Hair by Kim Boykin

Author:Kim Boykin [Boykin, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781101619575
Publisher: Berkley Books
Published: 2013-03-05T05:00:00+00:00

20

I woke up the next morning and saw Winston picking his clothes up off of the floor. I rolled over on my back, trying to breathe: in, out, in, out, real slow so he couldn’t see the panic bouncing around inside my body, lighting me up like a pinball machine. He slipped his pants on and smiled an awkward smile akin to that “what am I doing here?” look that had passed across his face a few hours before. I smiled back and pulled the covers up to my chin. It was an awkward time. He would give me a little half smile, and I would return the look. Then there was that seductive silence left over from the night before that made it seem like there was a gaping hole in the middle of the room.

He sat down on the bed, tied his shoes, and didn’t look at me until the alarm clock went off and startled both of us. He looked at me and laughed. “I’ll see you,” he said, as he gave me a quick kiss on my forehead.

“Tonight?”

He didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure he heard me, but I was afraid to ask again. He started out the bedroom door.

“Winston,” I called.

He looked back into the room, like he was surprised that I’d said his name.

“I’m going with a friend to Atlanta this weekend.”

“Okay,” he said, like I had just asked him to take the trash out.

“Well, I won’t be here,” I was sounding more stupid by the minute, “to cook for you.”

“Okay,” he said again, like it didn’t matter one way or the other, and walked out the door.

I fretted over him so that I was miserable at work the entire day. Everybody asked me what was wrong. I just told them I didn’t feel right, and that was the truth. My ten o’clock perm took me forever to roll up, and as soon as I put that smelly wave solution on her hair, I set the timer for thirty minutes and headed to the break room.

I bought a Coke and some Lance peanuts, pouring the peanuts into the bottle the way Sara Jane had shown me. I sat there wishing I could be more like her because I was sure Sara Jane wouldn’t have felt as helpless and stupid as I did that morning.

“You got man troubles, girl.” This was not a question. It was a statement.

Sissy Carson sat down next to me. She propped her feet up in the chair beside me and let out a long, breathy sigh.

“No, I’m just tired.”

“No, I’m tired. You got man troubles,” she said, matter-of-factly.

I remembered one time when Sara Jane’s preacher had talked about the sign of the beast on the evil one’s followers during the last days of the world. Not that Winston was the devil or anything, but I remember wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, swearing again that I was fine. But at twenty-six, Sissy was probably the oldest and the wisest of us all.

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