22. Lee
Lee
Monday morning came faster than I expected, and by ten o’clock I was standing in front of Crown & Clippers.
The front of the barbershop looked good.
The back looked like somebody had started fixing it up and quit halfway through.
Malcom, the owner, walked me through the space while wiping down a pair of clippers.
He was tall, serious, and looked like he didn’t have much patience for foolishness.
As we made our way toward the back, he told me why the last person renting the space hadn’t worked out.
“Used to be a private suite for a beauty salon,” Malcom explained. “Had a girl back here doing braids and dreads. She was good with her hands, I’ll give her that, but she was sleeping with half her clients and keeping up entirely too much drama in my shop.”
I winced. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”
“I told her straight up, I don’t care what you do on your own time, but you bring that mess into Crown & Clippers, you out.” Malcom looked directly at me. “You gonna bring me any drama?”
“None. I’m here to work.”
That was enough for him.
We talked rent, came up with a number I could actually afford, and signed the agreement right there at the counter. When I walked back outside, I had keys in my hand.
I sat behind the wheel staring at them for a second.
My own spot.
It wasn’t glamorous. The walls were ugly, the back needed work, and I already had a list forming in my head of everything I wanted to change. But I had somewhere to work.
The first person I called was Van.
“It’s official,” I told him as soon as he answered. “I got the space.”
He laughed. “Told you my boy would look out for you. How’s it look?”
“It’s a good size. Perfect for what I need, but them red walls gotta go.”
“That bad?”
“Ugly as hell. They don’t go with nothing I’m trying to do in there.”
“Give me the weekend. I’ll come paint it.”
“You don’t gotta do all that.”
“I said I’ll do it. Meet me over there Saturday morning.”
I smiled before I could stop myself. “All right.”
By Saturday, Van was true to his word. I pulled up to Crown & Clippers around noon with burgers, fries, and cold drinks from a spot down the road. The smell of primer hit me as soon as I walked through the back, and most of that ugly red was already gone.
Van had paint on his shirt and a roller in his hand.
“Look at you go.”
He dropped the roller into the tray and wiped his hands on a rag. “Told you I was gonna get it done.”
“I see that. Come eat before this food get cold.”
We pulled two folding chairs into the middle of the empty room and sat down with our food. For a few minutes, neither one of us did much besides eat and argue over who had more fries.
I looked over at him and realized something. “You know what?”
Van glanced up from his burger. “What?”
“You know all this stuff about me, and I don’t know nothing about you.”
“What do you wanna know?”
“Let’s start with the basics. How old are you? Favorite color? Last name? What you do for a living?”
He stared at me. “Damn. You want my social too?”
“I might. Answer the questions.”
“Thirty-two. Black. Coleman.” He reached for another fry. “And I’m a harbor pilot.”
I frowned. “What the hell is a harbor pilot?”
Van started laughing. “See? This is why I don’t tell people what I do.”
“No, for real. You fly boats or something?”
“How the hell do you fly a boat?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”
He shook his head. “Basically, I get on the big ships coming through the port and help guide them in and out. Those ships are too big to have just anybody bringing them through the channel.”
“Oh.” I nodded like that cleared everything up. “So you drive boats.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Sound like what you said to me.”
“I already regret telling you.”
I smiled and stole another fry. “Okay, Mr. Coleman. Why you single?”
Van shrugged. “I haven’t been in a rush to get into anything serious since my divorce.”
My hand stopped halfway to my mouth. “Your what?”
“My divorce.”
“You was married?”
“Yeah.”
I sat back. “See, this exactly what I’m talking about. How you know all my business and I’m just now finding out you had a whole wife?”
“You never asked.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask if you have a wife.”
“Had,” he corrected. “Past tense.”
“Whatever. How long y’all been divorced?”
“Three years.”
“What happened?”
“We wanted different things.”
“That could mean anything.”
“Mostly kids.” He reached for his drink. “I wanted some. She didn’t.”
That caught my attention.
“At all?”
“At all.”
“Damn. Did you know that before y’all got married?”
“Not really. We talked about having them, but it was always later. Then later came and she realized she didn’t want them. I thought maybe she’d change her mind.”
“And she thought maybe you would?”
“Pretty much.”
“Neither one of y’all did.”
“Nah.”
I looked down at the burger in my lap, suddenly wishing I had picked literally any other subject to ask about. Of all the things for me to stumble into while sitting there carrying a baby he didn’t even know about.
“You still want kids?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“How many?”
He smiled. “You really interviewing me.”
“You want your social back?”
“Nah. Keep going.”
I laughed. “How many?”
“Two. Maybe three.”
“Three?”
“What’s wrong with three?”
“Nothing. That’s just a lot of kids.”
“You asked.”
“And I’m judging your answer.”
Van shook his head, smiling, while I picked at the edge of my wrapper.
“So how dating been since the divorce?”
“It’s been dating.”
I looked up. “That sound terrible.”
“It’s not terrible. I go out, have a good time. If it doesn’t turn into anything, it doesn’t.”
“What would make it turn into something?”
Van looked at me.
“What?” I asked because he was staring at me hard.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“That’s literally what we doing.”
“I know.” A little smile crept on his face. “I’m not complaining.”
“Then answer me.”
He thought about it before answering. “Somebody I actually like being around. Somebody I can talk to, laugh with. Build something with.”
“That’s it?”
“What else do I need?”
“I don’t know. You the divorced one.”
He pointed a fry at me. “See? Now you’re getting smart.”
“I been smart.”
Van smiled, and I smiled back. Only neither one of us looked away this time.
The joking faded somewhere in the middle of us staring at each other.
Our chairs were already close, his knee almost touching mine, and when his eyes dropped to my mouth, I knew exactly what was about to happen. I could’ve moved, but I didn’t.
Van leaned toward me slow enough that I had plenty of time to stop him. When I stayed where I was, his hand came up against the side of my face and he kissed me.
The first thing I noticed was how soft his lips were. I had never kissed another man before, so for a second, sitting there with Van’s mouth on mine felt strange just because it was different. Then it didn’t.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, giving me the chance to decide what happened next, and this time I leaned in first.
Van’s hand slid around the back of my neck as I moved closer. The second kiss went deeper, still slow, but there wasn’t nothing friendly about it. I liked the way he smelled, the feel of his hand against my neck, the way kissing him felt nothing like anything I was used to.
Then JB crossed my mind, followed immediately by the baby. I jerked back so fast my chair scraped against the floor, and Van immediately let me go.
“What’s wrong?”
I stood and put some space between us. “I can’t.”
“Aight.”
“No, it’s not…” I rubbed my forehead. “Shit.”
“Lee, you good?”
I looked at him and knew I couldn’t keep letting him get closer while leaving something this big out.
“I’m pregnant.”
Van went still, and for a second neither one of us said anything. I had finally said it out loud to him.
“I just found out Thanksgiving night.” I swallowed. “It’s JB’s.”
His eyes dropped toward my stomach for a second before coming back to my face.
“Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“Lee, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t. That’s why I stopped you.” I shook my head. “Actually, I stopped me. You ain’t do nothing wrong.”
Van nodded but stayed quiet, and after a few seconds, the silence started getting on my nerves.
“Say something.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Well, think faster.”
His eyes lifted to mine. “You just told me you’re pregnant, Lee. Give me a second.”
“Right.” I looked away. “Sorry.”
Five minutes ago, we had been eating burgers and laughing. Then I was kissing him. Now I wanted to crawl inside one of them paint cans and put the lid on myself.
Van leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You okay?”
I looked at him. “What?”
“With being pregnant.”
That wasn’t what I expected him to ask.
“I’m keeping my baby, if that’s what you asking.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I stared at him.
“I asked if you’re okay.”
My arms tightened around myself. “No.”
Saying it out loud made my throat burn.
“I mean, I will be. I want my baby. I know that much.” I sat back down, leaving more room between our chairs this time. “It’s everything that comes with it.”
“JB?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know?”
“Not yet.”
Van looked surprised. “You haven’t told him?”
“I only found out last week.”
“I’m not judging you.”
“Sound like it.”
“I’m asking.”
I sighed. “I don’t know how to tell him without him hearing something I ain’t saying. Soon as JB find out I’m pregnant, he gon’ think that means we getting back together.”
Van looked at me for a second. “You think it does?”
“Hell no.”
“Then don’t let him make it mean that.”
I gave him a look. “You make everything sound real simple.”
“It’s not simple.” He shrugged. “But you already left him. Being pregnant doesn’t undo that.”
I looked down at my hands. Mama had basically told me the same thing, and hearing it again still didn’t make any of this easier.
“And now I done kissed you,” I muttered.
Van’s mouth twitched. “Twice.”
I looked up. “Boy!”
“You kissed me the second time.”
“Van.”
“I’m just making sure the facts are right.”
I tried not to smile, but he caught me anyway.
“This ain’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You smiling.”
“A little bit.”
I shook my head, but at least I didn’t feel like crawling inside a paint can anymore.
Then Van got serious again.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
“For kissing me?”
“Nah.”
That answer came so quick I looked right at him.
“I’m sorry you’ve got all this to deal with right when you’re trying to get yourself going again.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“But I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
I stared at him. “You probably should be.”
“Probably.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“I heard you.”
“By another man.”
“I heard that part too.”
I frowned at him. “Then why you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you might do it again.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“I might.”
That was enough to get me up out of that chair. “See, this why you need to get back to painting.”
Van laughed as he stood. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And move your chair over there.”
“My chair didn’t do anything.”
“Move it.”
Still laughing, he picked up the chair and carried it across the room while I started gathering our trash. I should’ve felt worse about kissing Van than I did, especially after telling him I was pregnant. Problem was, I still wanted to kiss him again.