“That door is open. You can just walk in.”
She hesitated and wiped her hands on her jeans. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just open the door.”
She pushed the door open and walked into the kitchen careful y, as though she was walking on a just-mopped floor.
“You okay?” I asked her.
“Is this where you eat dinner? In the kitchen? Or do you have a dining room?”
“You don’t have to whisper,” I said. “We eat in the kitchen.”
“Where do you sit? How come you have four places set? Who eats with you?” She ran her hands over a chair and picked up a checkered place mat.
“Are you okay?” I said again.
“Where does your father sit?”
I pointed to the chair nearest the window. “Right there.”
She sat herself in that seat and set her hands on either side of the place mat. She nodded, in a satisfied- seeming way.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want a Coke?”
“Yes,” she said. “Can you pour it in a glass?”
I poured the Coke over a handful of ice cubes and handed it to her. “So what’s the deal?”
I talked to her like we were old friends, another trick I’d learned from boys. Talk familiar and you’l get familiar. This was different from what I felt even for Jamal. This thing I felt for Dana originated under my scalp and stretched itself behind my ears, snaking down the back of my neck and down my spine. Girls like us, the ones who have been found out, our nerves are on edge like broken teeth.
“You told me to come,” she said. “You gave me your card.”
“You don’t want to have short hair, trust me,” I told her.
“I thought I might like to have an Anita Baker cut. Low on the sides and fluffy up top.”
I shook my head. “Short cuts are for people who can’t grow hair.”
“Where’s your father?”
“My dad?” I shrugged. “Working the line at the airport. What difference does it make?”
“Doesn’t make a difference.”
“Okay, so what’s up?”
I wanted her to admit that she was curious about me. I know how people act when they have an interest. When boys do it, my dad cal s it “sniffing around.” I heard him say to Raleigh, “I never thought it would bother me so much, al these hard legs sniffing around my daughter.” It’s a good way to say it, capturing that animalness of people. But it’s not just boys. Girls do it, too, when they want to know more about you.
She didn’t say anything, she just looked around our kitchen like she had never seen one before. She stood up and opened the drawers, picked up a spoon and frowned at her reflection. “Can I open the fridge?”
I shrugged and she pul ed open the door, taking a long look, like she was counting my mother’s cans of Fresca lined up on the door racks. She shut it and opened the freezer side. “No ice maker?”
I shrugged, but I felt embarrassed. “Ice trays make good ice.”
“Y’al have al new appliances? Electric range?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “My mama is the only one that cooks.”
“She cooks every day?”
“We go out to dinner sometimes. Al of us. Red Lobster. Piccadil y.”
“Did he ever take her to the Mansion?”
“Maybe, on their anniversary. Now sit back down. Stop trying to get me off track. Tel me why you came over here.” This was a trick I used with Jamal. I made him say exactly what he wanted.
“You don’t want to know,” she said, returning to my father’s chair. She sniffed the air like a rabbit. “I smel cigarettes.”
“My dad smokes like its going out of style.”
Dana whipped her head toward me. “You mother lets him smoke in the house?”
“There’s no
Underneath us, I knew my mother was wondering where I was. On busy days, my job was to get the clients into the shampoo bowl as soon as possible. A woman with a dry head can walk out if the wait becomes unbearable, but if she’s dripping wet, she won’t go anywhere. I wanted to get Dana back downstairs. Get her in the shampoo bowl and make her my hostage.
“Are you going to let me give you a wash-and-set?”
“I haven’t decided. I have a lot on my mind. I’ve been trying to tel you that.”
I looked at her careful y and turned my head to the side. “Are you pregnant?” I whispered.
