Page 17 of Sunday

He took the comb from my hand, set it on the counter, and looked underneath my sink.

“What are you looking for?”

“Your misting spray.”

“It’s in the cabinet across from the shower.”

He walked to my cabinet that held my hair supplies and messed around for several seconds. That was how I knew that I didn’t feel good. I couldn’t believe that I’d allowed him to go through my things, let alone think he was about to do anything to my hair.

“Sit down on the toilet,” he ordered.

“What are you about to do?”

“Sit down. Trust me. You’re in good hands, Sunny.”

I sat on the toilet and waited. In a few seconds, he carefully sprayed my hair with the misting bottle until my tresses were extremely damp. He set the mister down and then used the detangling brush to pull it through my hair.

I was surprised at how gentle he was and the patience he used in managing my hair. I began to relax under his attentive hands. It felt so good to be taken care of. When he finished pulling the detangling brush through my hair, he grabbed the comb.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

“Why should I? You know nothing about hair.”

“Okay. Pray.”

I snickered and was surprised by it.

“You need to go to the doctor.”

“I know. I hate going to the doctor, though. I’m always afraid there’s going to be bad news. Other than for annual exams and my OB-GYN visits, I don’t mess with them like that. I was hoping that I would get better on my own.”

“Yeah. How’s that working out for ya?”

“Screw you.”

“I got a few things for you.”

“Like what?”

“Some stuff to help you feel better.”

“Nothing’s doing the trick,” I groaned.

He tugged on my hair a little, and I squirmed.

“You gotta throw up?”

“No.”

But I held my stomach because I was queasy. I didn’t think that anything would come up anyway. I sat still for about a few minutes before Cedar declared, “A’ight. You’re good.”

I stood and walked to the sink. When I looked in the mirror, my mouth dropped open. My eyes ballooned, and then a slow smile turned my lips up as light shined inside of my heart.

“My mama used to tell my sisters all the time that if you comb your hair, you’ll feel better.”

“Well, I do. But I think that’s because I’m shocked.”

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