Chapter 30 Small Miracles
A hard crease sits between Mom’s brows whenever she’s focused. Even with her reading glasses on, I can tell she’s trying to make sense of her own handwriting in the shop appointment book. Soon we’re going to have to take Lex’s advice and have Destiny enter every appointment in the computer too. From where I’m seated to fill out factory order forms, I watch her and Lex hang string lights around the window and decorate the building outside. I was going to do it with them, but they insisted I rest my feet while the shop’s quiet. And when I get home, I’ll have a couple of hours to lie on the couch, listening to Empty Hour’s album Shades, eating potato chips and pickles straight from the jar. Maybe I’ll have the energy to pack outfits for my trip. I’ve been sneaking in visions of hugging Issac all day. We may not be able to be romantic, but I miss him more since he left. He’s been consumed in a beautiful way with the art exhibition happening this weekend, and he’s a little stressed wondering if he’s ready to unveil Secret Sun that night. So, he’s been busy there, and I’ve been busy here. But in three days, I’ll get to go to Cali and hug him as much as I want to.
My last client of the day walks in, and I hope she can’t see the sleepiness on my face. Her name is Sherry, and she’s a Black woman with beautiful turquoise earrings and the clearest skin I’ve ever seen. The wig she’s wearing is so natural, I can’t tell it isn’t her own hair until she sits in my chair and tells me herself. She has a straight-to-business tone and doesn’t waste any time. She takes off her wig and shows me her tapered haircut. It’s an adorable pixie, but she feels self-conscious because of her sparse edges and the few bald spots near her crown.
“It started to fall out after I had my baby last year. I always tease that he stole my hair because that boy has a whole mop on his head,” she says with a laugh. “But it seems like I can’t get any growth in those areas. I’ve tried different products, but nothing has worked, so I just wear wigs.”
My stomach has been in knots each session after reading the comments about me being mixed race a week ago, but I take a breath and ask if I can touch her hair. She smiles and nods.
“I don’t have children,” I say, “so I don’t know anything about losing hair after having them, but many women come to us for the same thing. I want you to know you’re not alone. It’s natural. Our bodies are complex.”
Something shifts in her eyes, brightens, her shoulders loosen. “Really?”
“Really,” I say, “and I’m not going to lie. It’s going to take work and consistency, and everybody is different, but I promise you we will do what we can to make you feel your best again. We can make sample-sized products that you can try out over the course of a month, and we’ll go from there. See if we need to adjust.”
“I really appreciate the honesty that it won’t be some miracle treatment.”
“It won’t be, but if we do the work it might feel like one in the end. Your hair is already beautiful. Your baby boy is winning if he inherited hair like this.”
She smiles, and I swirl her chair around until her eyes meet mine in the mirror instead. Then, I touch the crown of her head, play with the coils there. “And this shape fits your face so well.”
Sherry touches the back of her neck, unsure. “You think so?”
“I do,” I say, and start the work of washing her hair.
Afterward, I give her a stimulating scalp massage with Mom’s special growth serum, then show her how she can do the same thing at home. Mom and I both give her tips, which include letting her scalp breathe more and limiting the wigs. I can tell it makes her feel anxious, but I show her tricks to cover up the spots she doesn’t want the world to see and remind her that she’s gorgeous with or without them. “We’re all insecure about something,” I tell her. “But I promise you’re radiant. And if you feel it on the inside, you’re going to notice it on the outside, and so will other people.”
I pack her a little goodie bag with sample sizes of free products while she examines herself in the mirror. I try not to watch her, but my soul feels good when dimples deepen her cheeks. Her dimples remind me of Issac’s, and suddenly I miss him in an achy, nonplatonic way that makes me a bit uncomfortable.
“Wow,” Sherry says, twirling around to face me and glowing like a fluorescent light.
Mom comes up and sticks an extra product in the goodie bag. “Wow is right. You look gorgeous if I should say so myself.”
Sherry pops her collar, and we all laugh. “You two really know what you’re doing in here. I didn’t know if this was a gimmick, honestly. But my hair looks great, it smells good, it’s soft…and I feel better than I have in months.” She winks at Mom, says, “Maybe there’s some magic in those hands that you passed down the line.”
Mom reaches for me, gives my cheek a sloppy kiss. “That’s my baby.”
I must be glowing on the outside now too. “I’m so happy you feel good. I hope you’ll come back.”
“Oh, I plan to.” She takes the bag from me before pulling a business card from her purse and handing it to Mom. “I’m sorry to spy like this, but now that I know how you two operate, I’m truly hoping you’ll consider working with me.”
My mom looks at the card with wide eyes, then: “You’re an investor?”
“I am,” Sherry says. “And I would be happy to help you get this beautiful shop where it should be. There are so many people who could use the kind of treatment you offer. The affirmations alone. Call me tomorrow if you’d like. I’ll give you my credentials, go over numbers and scenarios, different options of what it might be like working with me. No rush, no pressure, but I want you to know I feel confident to say you’ll be safe doing business with me. I care about this work you’re doing.”
Safe.
That’s what I’ve been waiting to feel. How could Henry stand behind Wildly Green’s products should he ever have to if he doesn’t seem interested to know how we make them? We’d be signing away years with a caveat that says we owe the money in full should the Experience fail the test of time. And his heart wouldn’t even be in it the way Sherry’s might.
Right as I think it, Sherry says, “It’ll be more than just making more money to me.”
When she leaves, I turn to Mom and we both begin to dance. She squeals and pulls me close. “You really are my baby,” she says. “Waiting was the right decision. You remind me of your dad.”
The weight of that admission makes my eyes water. I’m happy she feels like my father left pieces of who he was with me, but the thing that my heart latches on to is how much more she’s been mentioning him lately.
“We did so good, Mom,” I finally say. “Sherry’s the one. She has to be the one.”
Vanessa Thompson shakes out her limbs like she’s caught a happy chill. “That woman gave me butterflies,” she says. And I can picture it now: everywhere we’ve been and everywhere we will go.
I’m full of feeling when Issac’s face crosses my mind again. I decide I’m going to call him, interrupt his day so that the news can give him butterflies too.