Page 85 of New Growth
Maybe I thought he’d try to change my mind again. Show up at my place with that smug little smirk and a bag of takeout. Or maybe I figured he’d at least text me, some passive-aggressive, “Hope you’re having fun.” message that I’d pretend to ignore but secretly overanalyze.
But nothing.
I pushed a fry around my plate, barely paying attention as Ethan went on about some branding campaign he’d worked on. Every now and then, he’d throw in some vague compliment about me—how ambitious I was, how “artistic” it must be to work with hair, how much work must go into looking the way I do.
I kept smiling and nodding, but in my head, I was somewhere else.
What was El doing?
He had nights off, so he wasn’t working.
Was he at home? Out with friends? Maybe he was on his own date with someone who didn’t make him jump through hoops just to spend time together.
The thought left a sour taste in my mouth. Thankfully, the drinks arrived just in time.
“You good?” Esther asked under her breath.
“Great,” I said, taking a sip of my Long Island iced tea and forcing a smile.
She didn’t buy it, obviously. But she let it go.
Ethan was completely oblivious, though. So he kept talking, and I kept stirring my drink, nodding along like I cared.He was still going on about his job—something in PR, something about branding, something about image.
“You know, presentation is everything,” he said, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Especially for women. I mean, I’m sure you get it, owning a salon and all.”
“I do. A lot of women care about appearance.” I added, finally paying attention.
He nodded along. “Exactly. Black women always have to be so put together all the time.”
I paused and tilted my head slightly. “Put together in what way?”
“You know,” he said easily. “Like, always done up. Hair, nails, lashes—the whole thing. It’s crazy.”
Esther took a long sip of her drink.
“Oh, yeah?” I repeated, swirling my straw in the glass.
“Yeah. Just… a lot goes into it. I dated this girl once and she wouldn’t even leave the house without doing her edges first. Always had to be on.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know how y’all do it.”
I could feel Esther watching me, silently asking me to keep my cool. She was nervous, but I was truly interested. This was just what I needed to put the cherry on top of tonight:A White man’s unwanted opinion on Black women.
I let a slow, easy smile cross my lips. “I mean, it’s not something wehaveto do. Some women just like to achieve a certain look. It’s the same way some men like to spend their weekends lifting weights and getting haircuts every two weeks. We all just wanna be happy when we look in the mirror at the end of the day, right?”
His smile faltered just a little. “Yeah, but with men, it’s different.”
“How?”
“Because…I mean, guys don’t really have to do all that. Women kinda have to, you know?”
Esther suddenly cleared her throat. “So! The food here is great, right?”
I ignored her. “Have to? What do you mean?”
Ethan shrugged. “It’s just how it is.”
I took a slow sip of my drink, sizing him up.
“So, what’s your preference?” I asked, feigning curiosity.
