Chapter 2 #2
I stood there for a minute with my hand on my own arm, wantin’ to open the door and wantin’ to make him hurt the way I was hurt at the same time.
That was the ugly part about lovin’ somebody who knew all your weak spots.
They could be the reason you was cryin’ and still be the only person you wanted to comfort you.
I turned away from the door and walked back into the kitchen without sayin’ nothin’ else.
Renza stayed…
At first, he knocked every few minutes and called my name like he was givin’ me time to change my mind.
Then he got quiet for a while, and I thought maybe he had left until I heard him talkin’ on the phone outside the door.
I couldn’t make out everything he was sayin’, but his voice came through enough for me to know he was still out there, probably irritated and pacin’ in front of my door like the stubborn ass man he was.
Mornin’ turned into afternoon, and I forced myself to clean just so I wouldn’t keep walkin’ over to that peephole.
I wiped down counters that was already clean, washed the same wine glass twice, and ended up seasonin’ meat for dinner later, even though my appetite was somewhere out the window with my patience.
Cookin’ gave my hands somethin’ to do, and maybe a part of me knew he could smell it through the door, but I wasn’t ready to be honest about that.
By late evenin’, his voice came again.
“Baby,” he called, soundin’ tired and annoyed at the same time. “Can I use yo’ charger? My phone about to die.”
I looked toward the door and rolled my eyes, but I still didn’t answer.
“Reni, you hear me?”
I kept stirrin’ the pot, ignorin’ the fuck out of him.
More hours passed. The sun started droppin’ and that pretty golden light came through my windows, touchin’ everything in the condo except my mood.
The food was done by then, and the smell had filled the whole place.
Chicken curry, coconut rice, honey jerk lamb chops, sweet plantains, and buttery cabbage all sat on my stove like my heart was still preparin’ a plate for a man I was supposed to be done with.
That was what scared me about Renza. I could be furious with him and still love him out of habit.
When night came, he spoke again.
“Reni.”
I stopped movin’...
“I love you,” he said from the other side of the door. “I know you mad, and I know you got every right to be mad, but I’m sorry. I wasn’t out fuckin’ around on you.”
My eyes filled again, and I hated that they did.
He sighed, and I could hear how tired he was. “It’s late, baby, and these mosquitoes tearin’ my ass up out here.”
I looked down and pressed my hand over my mouth ’cause the laugh tried to come before I could stop it. Only Renza could say shit the way he did.
“When you ready to talk,” he said after a minute, his voice lower, “I’m gon’ be here. I love you, Renaissance.”
Hearin’ my full name from him almost broke me.
Then, he said, “Goodnight, baby.”
After that, everything got quiet. I waited because I thought he was just tryna make me open the door, but after a while, I didn’t hear him anymore. The silence sat outside my door like he had finally given up.
I told myself not to check. Then I checked anyway. I walked to the door slowly and looked through the peephole, already bracin’ myself for him to still be there with that stubborn look on his face, but he wasn’t there. He was gone.
My chest sank so fast I had to lean my forehead against the door and close my eyes. I had wanted him to leave because I needed space, but seein’ that he actually did hurt worse than I expected.
I stood there for a long time with my hand restin’ against the door, tryna convince myself this was for the best. Maybe this was the moment I finally stopped lettin’ love soften me into stayin’.
Maybe this was where I chose myself before Renza had the chance to keep pullin’ me halfway into a life he still wasn’t ready to share all the way.
But even while I tried tellin’ myself all this shit, the food on my stove was still warm. His shit was still neatly folded on my couch, and my heart was still waitin’ for his voice to come back through the door. That was the part of this shit I hated most.
No matter how mad I was at this nigga… no matter how much pride I had, and no matter how much I knew I deserved more than unanswered calls, Renza still felt like mine.
If I’m bein’ honest, I didn’t know how to stop lovin’ somebody who had already made himself feel like home.
Three days later…
I already knew today was gon’ be a busy day for me because I had two clients at the funeral home this mornin’, and both of them had been sittin’ heavy on my mind since last night.
Once I finally pulled into the funeral home parkin’ lot, I cut my car off.
The sun was barely up all the way, and for a second, I just sat here with my hands wrapped around my coffee cup, lookin’ toward the buildin’ while I tried to prepare my spirit for what waited inside.
People always thought doin’ hair for the dead had to be creepy or depressin’ all the time, but honestly, that wasn’t what weighed on me the most. It was the families…
It was watchin’ people try to hold themselves together while pickin’ out caskets and flower arrangements for somebody they loved.
It was hearin’ mothers cry over babies, husbands cry over wives, and children standin’ there lookin’ lost because they couldn’t understand why somebody wasn’t comin’ home no more.
That was the part that stayed with me…
I had been doin’ this for three years now, and even though I truly felt like God called me to it, that didn’t mean every client got easier. If anything, some of them settled deeper in my spirit than others.
I had done hair for elderly women who passed peacefully in their sleep, and I had done hair for men who got killed in the streets before they mama could even make it to the hospital.
I had styled tiny little girls with barrettes and beads in their hair, and teenage boys whose families wanted their braids and lineups touched up one last time because they “wouldn’t wanna leave lookin’ crazy. ”
Every client mattered to me.
I never rushed through none of it either because this wasn’t regular salon work where somebody could come back next week if they didn’t like somethin’. This was the final time people would see their loved one. These would be the final pictures, final hugs and final goodbye.
That meant somethin’ to me…
I grabbed my bags from the passenger seat and headed inside, already knowin’ this particular appointment was gon’ sit heavy on me before the day was even over.
The funeral director met me near the back and gave me that same sad look people always had in places like this.
“They’re ready for you, Ms. Harper.”
I nodded softly. “Thank you.”
Soon as I stepped into the preparation room, my stomach tightened.
The mother was laid closest to me first, and when I found out she was only twenty-four years old, my chest tightened immediately because she looked way too young to be lyin’ in a funeral home.
She was beautiful, too, even through death, with pretty brown skin, long lashes, and full lips that made it easy to picture how bright her smile probably used to be before all this happened
The little girl was lying beside her, and knowin’ this baby was only three years old made me have to look away for a second because nothin’ about that sat right on my spirit
The story had already been explained to me before I came. The mother’s new boyfriend had killed both of them in some jealous rage after she tried to leave him.
I would never understand men who claimed they loved women but destroyed them the minute they couldn’t control them anymore. That wasn’t love to me. That shit was a sickness.
I swallowed hard and set my things down before walkin’ over to the mother first. Her family had already dropped off the wig they wanted installed, and the minute I saw the color, I understood exactly why they chose it. It was this rich ginger color that looked warm and soft all at the same time.
The funeral director had told me her mama said the color was her signature. She said she wore ginger hair so much that people expected it from her at that point. That made me smile a little.
I liked details like that because it made me feel closer to who the person actually was outside of death.
I washed my hands, organized my supplies, and got to work carefully. Even after all this time, I was still gentle with every client.
I took my time cleanin’ around her hairline and moisturizin’ her scalp before installin’ the lace.
I smoothed everything down slowly and styled the hair in soft curls that framed her face beautifully.
Once the makeup artist finished her part, the wig brought everything together in a way that almost made her look peaceful instead of tragic.
That was always my goal… Peace.
I kept adjustin’ little pieces until everything felt perfect, and once I finally stepped back, my chest tightened again because she looked like somebody who should’ve still been alive. She looked like somebody who should’ve still been raisin’ her baby.
I walked closer without even thinkin’ about it and gently brushed a strand away from her lips before reachin’ down and softly holdin’ her hand for a second.
“Rest peacefully, Queen,” I whispered.
My eyes burned immediately after that, but I blinked the tears back because I still had another baby to take care of.
And Lord… the little girl almost took me out.
She looked so small layin’ up there with her pretty little brown curls, tiny hands, and little pink lips. It hurt my heart because she still looked like a baby who should’ve been runnin’ around somewhere playin’ instead of layin’ in a funeral home.
I couldn’t even imagine what the grandmother was feelin’ right now, knowin’ she lost her daughter and grandbaby at the same damn time.
I worked slower on the little girl than I normally did because I kept havin’ to stop myself from gettin’ emotional.