1.0 #3
I adjusted Alina gently, careful not to wake her, and let my thoughts wander where they always did when the world was still.
If someone had told twenty-one-year-old me that I'd be here-single mom, licensed, paying a mortgage on a modest little house in East Philly-I probably would've laughed. Back then, my dreams felt like they belonged to someone else. The kind of girl who had the time to chase them.
But somehow, I'd done it. Graduated. Built a clientele. Kept us afloat without anyone to lean on but myself.
Still, the cracks showed at night. Nights like this, when Alina clung to me in her sleep, I let myself wonder what it might've been like with help. What it might've been like if someone else had been here to carry half the weight-or to kiss her forehead and tell her she was safe too.
I shut my eyes against the thought before it could grow teeth. There was no use going down that road. The man I might've thought of in those what-ifs wasn't part of this life anymore. He hadn't been for four years.
And I was better for it. Stronger. Sharper. My life now was proof of that.
The words steadied me.
Outside, a car rolled by, bass thudding low. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked twice then quieted. Philadelphia never truly slept, but in that moment, with Alina's small breath syncing with mine, it felt like maybe I could.
Eventually, the heaviness in my chest gave way to something softer. I let my eyes close, one hand resting over her back, and drifted into sleep again.
And Julian.
"Late as always," he called from his station, grinning wide.
I rolled my eyes, tossing my bag into the back. "I'm ten minutes early."
"That's late to me," he shot back, snapping his cape around a teenage client who looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. "You ever hear of punctuality, ma'am?"
"Ma'am?" I gasped dramatically, smacking the back of his chair on my way by. "Say it again, I dare you."
He winked, turning back to his client like I hadn't threatened his life. "She's cranky 'cause she knows I'm right."
The boy in his chair snorted, and I fought back a smile. Julian had that effect on people-pulling laughter out of thin air. He was the balance in this place, the loud counterweight to my quiet.
Jamal, Julian's twin, was the one who got us into Kian's shop.
He'd grown up with Kian, and in Philly that kind of bond carried weight.
When me and Julian finished cosmetology school, Jamal Kian aside and vouched for us to Kian and that was all it took.
Next thing I knew, Julian was cutting on the barber side, and I was here on the styling side, both of us under Kian's roof.
Jamal always joked he'd "put in the word," but really, it felt like he'd carved a door open for us.
When my first client of the morning sat down, Julian wandered over with his clippers still buzzing in his hand. "So. You still bringing Alina by this week or what?"
"Maybe Friday," I said, parting a section of hair with my comb. "She's been on me about getting braids again and seeing her 'guncle' I can't believe you told her to call you that foolishness.."
He grinned. "Thats guncle's girl. I'm honestly surprised those braids held up with her fine hair. You always being secretive about your baby daddy but I know that is a white mans child."
I shook my head, hiding my smile. "You're too much."
Julian leaned against my counter, lowering his voice just enough. "Nah, but for real-how's she doing? Does she like the new daycare? I know she miss Tim and Lisa."
Tim and Lisa were still in our lives, steady as ever.
They treated me and Alina like family, the same way they had since the club.
But they were older now. Tim didn't manage the club anymore, and I wanted them to enjoy their retirement without feeling like they had to raise another child.
They objected when I enrolled Alina in daycare-said they'd always watch her, no questions asked.
But I needed them to care for her because they wanted to, not because they felt obligated.
And daycare felt like the best thing, for her and for me.
I softened, thinking about her bunny ears bouncing as she'd sprinted past the dryers. "She's good. Still bossing me around, still asking too many questions. She'll probably outgrow me by next week."
He chuckled. "Better you than me. I'd fold."
"She already knows it," I said, and we both laughed.
Julian pushed off the counter when his client called, clippers humming again. He threw a look over his shoulder, though, his grin fading into something gentler. "You doing good, Mira?"
The question landed heavier than it should have. I forced a smile, smoothing down a section of my client's hair. "Yeah. I'm good."
He held my eyes a beat longer than necessary, like he wanted to press it, then nodded and walked back to his chair.
I exhaled slowly, focus snapping back to the mirror. My client was watching me with quiet curiosity, but I just gave her a smile and went back to work.
The day stretched ahead, the shop filling with voices, music, laughter, and the low buzz of clippers. It wasn't perfect. But it was something like home.
And for now, that was enough.