Page 30 of Not My Type
My phone buzzes. I see that it’s Clova and a smile paints my lips. Just as I slide the screen, “Afternoon Zara,” is the first thing that she says.
“ Good afternoon, Clova,” I smile.
“A which one a the style dem you did say again?” She asks, her voice like a foghorn.
“ I was thinking of a Bob cut,” I retort.
“Alright baby girl mi a wait,” she says and hangs up.
I finish my facial and start waxing my arm, screaming dramatically each time I rip the wax off. “Jesus... ” I wince. I’m almost there.
You can do this Zara.
With that thought, I close my eyes and rip it off completely, screamingloudly as I do. Then Mama knocks the door. “Zara what’s wrong?” she asks worriedly.
“I’m okay Mama!” I shout.
“Hmm. Cause me a hear a lot of noise like you’re in pain,” she tells me.
“It’s just the wax, I’m fine otherwise,” I explain.
“Okay mi dear,” I hear her say before she walks away.
Moments after, I get myself dressed in a pair of nude leggings from Fashion Nova and its matching crop top. My scent of the day is Dolce & Gabbana: The Only One. I inhale with a smile— it’s so sweet. I pick up my purse and my phone and head to the living room. As soon as I’m there, I’m greeted by Uncle Rohan— Sash & Gavin’s father.
“Niecey,” he smiles and snakes his arms around my shoulder.
“What’s up uncle Rohan?” my smile radiant.
“Just come check on my old lady cause work been have me away,” he says with his eyes set on Mama.
“Yeah,” I nod, then Mama chimes in.
“What time you a go up a Clova?”
“3’ o clock,” I tell her before I sit.
“Alright, Rohan can drop you up there,” she tells me, and he nods in agreement.
“Yea,” I say as I put on my transparent slides. I have so many slides yet, I find myself wearing this pair a lot. Everyweh mi go a me that in a the transparent Bridgets.
A good thing a mine.
I notice my toes, they aren’t in a bad shape, but I need to get my pedicure done too.
How mi a gwaan like mi have money so?
That affi go wait til mommy send the money.
“You know how you going to do it?” Mama asks, staring at my hair. I shrug.
“I was thinking about a bob style, but mi still nuh sure,” I say.
“Eeeh, so why yuh nuh braid it?” Good idea.
“Yeah, fi real,” I agree.
Mi cyaa even tell the last time mi braid mi hair.
