Ms. Independent

“I told you to stop calling him that.” I remove the final track and make quick work of unraveling the circle of braids from her scalp. Once the braids are undone I tap her shoulder and motion towards the shampoo bowl. She’s temporarily distracted by a text message and I savor the silence.

“Well what would you like me to call him?” She continues as she reclines against the bowl.

“I don’t know Tab,” I respond exasperated, “I guess you should just call him Mike.” I adjust the water temperature and Tabitha closes her eyes when the warm water touches her scalp.  “I’m feeling a little anxious because he asked me to come up and meet his mother this weekend.”

“It’s a big deal for a man to introduce you to his mother.” It’s a huge deal which is why I feel as if I might puke every time I think about it.

“I’ve been with the same man since I was 16. All of this dating stuff is foreign to me,” I respond feeling my stomach lurch with anxiety as I scrub sand from her scalp.

“Don’t worry so much. If he loves you as much as I think he does, he’ll wait until you’re ready to commit.” Every once in a while she has nuggets of thoughtfulness. I rinse the shampoo from her hair and repeat the process three times before combing through her thick coarse mane. I part her hair into four sections and apply a large amount of conditioner then lead her to the hairdryer. I sit down at my station while the conditioner goes to work and check my phone for messages. There’s one from Mike which brings a smile to my face. ‘What are you wearing?’ the message says. I get a little flustered as I touch the screen to reply.

Taking a glance in Tabitha’s direction to insure that she doesn’t see me blushing, I quickly type, ‘I’d like to be wearing you.’ He responds in seconds but before I have a chance to read the message, my phone rings with a call from Leila.

“Keisha!” she shouts into the phone.

“What is it girl?” I ask exasperated because she calls me about every thirty minutes asking questions about pregnancy.  ‘Keisha, why are my feet swelling and how exactly is a full sized human going to squeeze out of my vagina?’ are some of the most recent questions. She’s nearly five months now and according to her, Tucker is driving her insane. She says that he’s hidden all of her heels and he’s hired an assistant to follow her around so that she doesn’t have to lift or bend. Some women would love that kind of attention, but Leila prides herself on being independent.

“I’m at the airport and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She’s out of breath and cranky, I can tell it’s going to be a long day.

“Leila, why are you coming here, don’t you have work?”

She pauses and all I hear is airport noises and heavy breathing. “I was kind of asked to take a leave of absence until after the baby’s born,” she responds sheepishly. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I know she must have done something terrible to be laid off from her family’s company. She presses on, “my supervisor just kept harping about every little thing. Well yesterday I sort of lost it.”

“What did you do?” I question.

“She had it coming.”

“Leila,” I say calmly.

“She wouldn’t leave me alone. I asked her to leave me alone!”

“Leila what did you do?” I shout losing my patience.

She pauses for a few beats. “I threw a stapler at her head,” she says clearing her throat. “I blamed it on my hormones,” she continues somberly.  “But in reality I loved watching Fatima run like a scared bird.” I continue pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut. I’m trying my best not to laugh because she’s been such an emotional wreck lately that she’d probably burst into tears. “She threatened to sue the company if I came anywhere near her,” she exhales with a high pitched sigh, “so I took a leave of absence. I’ve been volunteering with Joan and flying to Trinidad to see grandma, Nickie, Riley and Gen as often as possible to ease the boredom.”

“So why are you at the airport?”

“Because I need to get away from my husband!” she announces with increased annoyance.

“Okay baby just calm down. Do you need me to come and pick you up?”

“No my assistant is with me,” she groans, “I don’t know why in the hell I need an assistant when I don’t even have a job. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she announces before disconnecting the call. I send Tucker a text message to let him know Leila’s with me. I put my phone away then take a few deep cleansing breaths to prepare myself for her arrival.

****

     Leila gets to the shop just as I finish braiding Tabitha’s hair. She’s so petite and cute despite the scowl she’s wearing. She rushes into the salon on six inch heels and makes a beeline for the bathroom without a word. A few seconds later a young woman enters looking frazzled.

“Where is she?” the woman asks frantically scanning the room. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and loose hairs are falling into her eyes. She looks about the same age as Leila but she’s a bit on the frumpy side.

“She’s in the bathroom. Have a seat,” I respond as I stitch a weave cap over Tabitha’s braids.

“Do you think I should wait back there? I mean she might need something.”

I shake my head without looking at her ‘What exactly could she need from you in the bathroom?’ Leila must be giving this girl the blues. She’s biting the nail on her index finger and rapidly tapping her foot on the floor. “What’s your name?” I ask.

“My name, my name, um,” she stammers then hops to her feet when Leila walks out of the bathroom. “Do you need anything Mrs. Bradley?”

“Brittany please sit down,” Leila says with an eye roll. She lowers herself into a salon chair and pulls a heel off to rub her foot.

“Why are you wearing those shoes if they hurt your feet?”

“Flat shoes are for quitters,” she retorts with a scrunched nose. “Besides, it’s a matter of principle,” she adds kicking off her other shoe. I raise an eyebrow then go back to attaching the cap.

“Mrs. Bradley you should drink water so that your feet don’t swell,” Brittany says nervously.

“Do you see what I mean?” Leila asks motioning to Brittany. “He can’t follow me so he paid her to do it. He’s got her so anxious that she jumps around like a crazy person all day.” Tabitha starts to laugh. “It’s not funny,” Leila blurts out with a trembling bottom lip. I slap Tabitha’s arm and walk over to Leila and pull her up from the seat.

“Oh baby I promise it’ll get easier as you get into the third trimester.”

“I’m not even sure why I’m crying,” she whines with a hiccup.

“I don’t know why either. Tucker has always been protective of you. That’s part of what you love about him.” I smooth her hair into place. “He’s not trying to take away your independence. Taking care of you is how he shows you that he loves you.” She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

“How’d you get so smart?” she asks smiling up at me.

I shake my head. “I’ve learned from making a shit load of mistakes. Now you need to try and enjoy your pregnancy. He wants to wait on you hand and foot so let him because once the baby comes, life won’t be about you anymore.” She nods her agreement and sits back in the chair. Her stomach is way too huge for her tiny body.

“So how far along are you?” Tabitha asks tentatively.

“I just had an ultrasound yesterday. I’m four and a half months but the baby is very large. The doctor told us that at the rate it’s growing the he or she could be twelve pounds by the time I deliver. My vagina will never be the same after pushing out a baby that big.”