"Why do you always avoid my questions?"
"I'm not, it's just that there's nothing to say. Who would ever want to date someone they can't even talk to? It's not rocket science. My eyes are weird, and people get tired of me eventually. There's your on...
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DALLAS'S TONGUE POKED THE INSIDES OF HER CHEEKS as she nervously shifted her weight, glancing from the gold and black card in hand to the cursive embossed words etched above the storefront, Natural Hair Treasures. Her fingers traced the edge of her cap as she lowered her head, peering past the building's translucent walls and into the hairdressing salon where a few women had converged. They were mostly women of colour, some sitting in adjustable black chairs whereas others tended to the customers' hair, moving back and forth from the customer to their desk.
After glancing around the salon for a bit, Dallas's eyes fell on the woman she'd been looking for all along.
Sharon.
And just as Dallas did, the woman glanced out the window, locking eyes with her. A ginormous grin spread across the woman's face as she abandoned her vacant post, heading for the door, all of which successfully crushed Dallas's plans of simply taking a look before bolting for the hills.
"Hello there!" the woman chirped once she stepped outside. "Dallas, was it?"
"Yeah. Hi, Sharon," Dallas greeted before glancing at the woman's hair. Just like when they first met, Sharon's hair was in its natural state, but it had grown a bit since then. Still, the woman skillfully styled her hair, the kinks coming imperceptible curled that scattered throughout her head and shone in the overhead lights. "I was just in the area and thought I'd stop by."
Sharon smiled when she noticed the card in Dallas's hand. She gestured towards the salon. "Do you want to come in for a bit?"
Dallas nodded, and Sharon led her inside the salon. A plume of smells converged in the air, from the smell of hairsprays and shampoos to other scents she couldn't immediately place until she glanced around, taking in the sights of various head dryers and the women who sat beneath them, robotically thumbing through newspapers while their hair dried in roller sets, towels draped around their shoulders.
"So, Dallas," Sharon began with another smile. "What brings you here?"
Dallas shifted her focus to the woman and said, "Prom is in two days and I just took out my twists. I'm not sure what I'm doing with my hair just yet," her lips twisted to the side when she recalled the pool of hairstyle option she had, from wigs to braids to getting her natural hair flat ironed; but for some reason, none of those options enticed her anymore. But at the same time, heading to prom in a hat wasn't an option, either. "I don't want a wig or anything like that this time. I just want.."
She trailed off and looked away as her thoughts strayed to another idea; what if she didn't wear a wig, braids, or get a flat iron? The only option would be to wear her hair out.
Realization flitted across Sharon's face, and she tapped the back of her chair. "Do you want to have a seat?"
Dallas nodded. She sat in the high hair, feeling the firm leather under her body as she rested her arms on the armrest. In the meantime, Sharon busied herself with rummaging thing a drawer on her station, later producing a thin booklet semblant to a hair magazine of sorts. She handed it to Dallas who gratefully accepted it, glancing over the three stunning black women on the cover.
