Chapter 11 - Song #2 (You fixed me)

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"How was breakfast?" I ask the young woman snuggled into my abdomen. 

"Really good, you've been feeding me way too much food though." She admits. 

I laugh. 

"Iunoo what you talkin bout." I say innocently, raising her chin so I can kiss her lips that taste like french toast. 

"Mhmm." She smiles. 

She gets up from beside me and looks into my eyes. 

"You don't think we should check our phones, babe?" She questions appearing to be worried. 

"I know for a fact we don't need to check our phones. Anyone who truly knows us and anyone who matters knows that we with each other. If we need some time we need some time." I say pulling her head to my lips. My finger gets tangled in her curly black hair. 

"Ow." She complains, childlike. 


"You tryna rip my hair out." She mumbles.


I laugh. 

"Ya shit bout to lock up babe. You was tryna dread this?" I ask, playing in the tangled mess. 

She smiles, her almond eyes looking into mine like it was all she needed. 

"Come here, come sit between my legs." I say to her. 

"Uh-uhh. So you can really make my hair fall out?" She questions with her attitude. 

"It looks like it's bout to fall out anyway." I clap back. 

She chuckles. 

"Come on, I used to do Patrice hair all the time." I say serious now. "You ain't see all those cornrows?" 


"The big ol doodoo braids you put in Patrice hair? Oh Lord have mercy." She mimics her Mother. 


"I'm gon ignore ya little jokes. Go get the comb and hair oil." I smile, pushing her away from me. She runs upstairs and runs back down with a black big toothed comb and coconut oil. 

"Okay, powerful Black woman. Sit down." I say to my beauty. 

She does as told, her long legs folded before her. I carefully take out the rubber band she has holding the mess together and she winces. 

Partitioning her hair into managable parts was easy, de-tangling was hard until I began using the oil to assist me with the kinks and knots. Her hair felt like silk between my fingers, after that. It just needed a little love and affection. I began corn-rowing from the front of her head, leaving out some of her baby hair but grasping the little intricate hairs between the tips of my fingers. 

She winces again and groans. 


"You tender headed, just like Patrice." I say knowing it would get a rise out of her. 


"No, your hands mad ruff." Chanel complains. 


"You wasn't saying that last night." I whisper cleverly. I can almost feel the wind of her eye rolls, she sucks her teeth. 


Chanel reaches for the speaker on the table and pulls it towards her, messing up the braid I am currently working on. 


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