by Pat Simmons
She worked the rest of her shift on autopilot. That evening, back at her apartment, Talise was heavy in thought when Lois came home, dumped her keys and purse, and headed to her bedroom.
Sitting in the bay window seat in the front room brought back memories for Talise. She would wait there and watch for Ace’s Charger to pull up. That spot always made her feel like a damsel locked in a tower, and the only person who could rescue her was Ace.
She spoke to Lois and continued to stare out the window. So far, she had yet to come up with a way to cut more corners on her living expenses. Refusing to touch the thousands of dollars that had accumulated from Ace’s winnings on the boat, Talise had designated that money as his one-time child support payment.
Lois came back to the living room, wrapped in a bathrobe. “Hey, you feel like going out tonight? We haven’t done that in a long time, and—”
“We need to talk,” Talise cut her off.
“What’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?” Lois went into panic mode, as Talise advised her to have a seat.
“I’m in trouble—financially. My day job is cutting back hours to keep from laying off workers.” She tsked. “I’ve already cut back my client load at the salon. Talk about bad timing.”
Lois didn’t interrupt, as Talise gnawed on her lip, thinking.
“Daddy’s already been sending me money. I’d feel guilty asking for more to meet the high cost of living here. I’ve thought about moving back home until I have the baby.”
“There’s no way you’re going back to Virginia, not after you’ve complained about your evil stepmother’s lack of sensitivity and charisma.”
Rolling her eyes, Talise corrected her, “Please refer to Donna as my father’s wife. And I didn’t call her evil.”
“And you didn’t say she was nice either. I haven’t met her, but I can’t stand her already.”
“You’ve got to get over this obsessive, compulsive disorder against people.”
“Maybe. I happen to enjoy holding a grudge, just for the fun of it. We’ll figure something out. Don’t go getting desperate on me,” Lois advised. “I guess we’re both staying in tonight.”
For the next few hours, they lounged in the living room, brainstorming. “I guess it’s too late to take your clients back from other stylists, huh?”
Shaking her head, Talise answered, “Besides treating them like a yo-yo, standing on my feet is taxing, even with comfortable shoes. I guess I can find a sit down job to supplement my lost income at the airlines.”
Lois worked her neck and lifted a brow. “Three jobs? Your hormones are already out of whack. That ain’t happening. I’ll think of something.” She stood and stretched. “In the meantime, do you want to watch some movies, or the TLC channel?”
“No, I’m going to email Sinclaire to see if we can Skype.” Whenever Talise’s judgment was cloudy, which always seemed to be the case since she learned she was having a baby, she depended on Sinclaire to think with clarity.
Before the night was over, Talise was staring into her computer, video chatting with her sister.
“I feel like I’m on family and friend welfare. I hate to say it, but going back to Virginia is starting to sound more appealing,” Talise said, hoping to talk herself into it.
“Nah, I just don’t think that’s a healthy situation for you and the baby. It’s not like Donna welcomed us with open arms when she married Dad. She tolerates us because of him.” Sinclaire glanced over her shoulder and spoke to someone behind her.
“Sorry. Anyway, how Daddy didn’t see through Donna’s fake façade baffles me … Ooh,” Talise complained and held her stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
After catching her breath, she smiled. “Your niece or nephew just kicked me.”
Sinclaire laughed. “I hope it’s a girl. That way she can ditch the name Jamieson when she gets married.”
“She won’t have it at all. I’m not putting Ace’s name on the birth certificate.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sandra would never get accustomed to the so-called “empty nest syndrome,” as she walked through the door after Sunday morning service. A three-bedroom condo was simply too big for one person.
Even Cameron’s visits were less frequent now that Ace was gone. He still called and asked if she needed anything, and dropped by occasionally, but it wasn’t the same as having another person living in her house.
Talise had no idea how happy she had made Sandra when she invited her to dinner and shopping. Although Sandra didn’t lead a boring life between church and work, she missed Talise after that brief time they spent together.
She didn’t fool herself into believing that Talise accepted her friendship blindly. Being in the company of her ex-scoundrel of a boyfriend’s mother couldn’t be easy. Sandra hated how Ace handled the situation, but if he really thought that the child wasn’t his, she could understand his reaction.
Ace’s defense was his refusal to believe she’s pregnant. Shaking her head, the boy was pitiful. He knew about the birds and bees. God turned Kidd around, so she still held out hope for her youngest.
Her mind went back to Pastor Lane’s sermon on faith from Hebrews, chapter 13. “The prophets had faith because God told them things. What things has God told you that you refuse to believe?” he had asked the congregation.
His question had lingered on her mind since she heard it. After she slid a pan of leftover casserole in the oven, Sandra sat at the table and folded her hands in thought.
“Jesus, I believe that You will draw my son to Your salvation! You told me so, God.” Sandra lifted her arms in praise. She needed a distraction, as she stood and strolled into her living room. Glancing at the time on her violin-shaped clock that sat perched on an end table, she had an anxious feeling.
It was a little after seven. She wondered if Talise had made it home from work and was resting. Picking up the cordless, Sandra called her.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I’ve just got a lot on my mind. That’s all.”
Sandra frowned. Talise seemed in a good mood on Friday evening. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“I’m having a pity party right now. I don’t think you’d want an invite.”
“Honey, I know how to be the life of a party,” Sandra joked, masking her concern.
“I don’t feel like I have any control over my life any more … my body, or my mind … and now my job is cutting back.”
Sandra went on alert. “What does that mean? Do you still have a job?”
“Yes. But I now have an extra off day. Management is cutting our work week to four days instead of five. At least, I’ll still have my full benefits, including medical coverage.”
“Are you worried about the money? Because—”
“My dad has been helping me out financially. Before I found out, I’d just reduced my client load at the salon. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have turned away new customers and transferred some of my regulars to other stylists. My choices were between Friday and Sunday. Of course, Friday was snatched up by people with more seniority, and I can’t do hair on Sundays.”
Sandra’s heart pounded, as she pumped her fist in the air. Now Talise had no excuse not to go to church. I see You working this out in her favor, Jesus.
“Well, God knows you need the rest.”
“Yeah, but He knows I need the money too. I have to think in terms of two now.”
Sandra had increased her savings deposits weeks ago, just in case Talise was carrying Ace’s child. Once God revealed her purpose in Talise’s life, she banned the ‘if’ word from her mind and lips.
“I’m here if you need me, and the invitation to visit my church is still open.”
“Thanks.” Talise ended the conversation not long after that.
Throughout the following week, Sandra increased her fasting and prayer time. Making intercessory prayer for Talise, she went before the Lord. “Jesus, please let there be a breakthrough in
her life. Give her hope for the things she can’t see.”
Of course, she never stopped crying out for God to call Ace to repentance. And when He did, she prayed Ace had better answer.
The next Saturday morning, Sandra gave Talise a call. They weren’t at a place in their relationship where they could chat for the sake of chatting. Still without forcing her friendship, Sandra wanted to remind Talise of her presence if she needed her.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“I’m finishing up on a favorite customer. Right, Miss Priscilla?”
“The best,” Priscilla confirmed in the background.
“Well, I won’t keep you. I was calling to remind you that the invitation to church is open for tomorrow.” She paused. “Do you have time to take one more customer?”
“Who?”
“Me.”
“Ah, yeah, but I’ll have to tell you about Tammy before you get here,” she whispered.
Sandra frowned and asked, “Who is Tammy?”
“Me,” she whispered again.
Then without warning, Talise handed the phone to her customer, who practically spoke in a secret code. She instructed Sandra on how she should inquire about Talise’s condition while in the shop.
Chuckling at the humor of it all, Sandra agreed and scribbled the time Talise had given her for an appointment. An hour and a half later, she strolled into Sassy’s Salon.
The place was sleek from the gold and black awning outside to the marble flooring inside. In the waiting area, there were three groupings of cozy chairs huddled around coffee tables. Each table was artfully decorated with books and magazines. A well-organized receptionist’s desk separated the manicurists’ and stylists’ stations.
Talise appeared from a back area, carrying a large cup of water. As soon as she saw Sandra, her eyes lit up and she beckoned her new customer to come back. Making her way to Talise’s chair, Sandra was impressed by each stylist’s station she passed by. They were extra roomy and appeared to be equipped with every latest hair styling tool known to Black women. Talise greeted her with a hug that warmed Sandra’s heart and made her feel welcome.
Once seated, she slowly twirled Sandra around and started to massage her scalp. “Your hair seems slightly over-processed. Have you been doing it yourself or using a stylist?”
“I used to put a relaxer in myself. Then last year, I started to let it grow it out…”
“You know, chemicals don’t grow out. I have some new products I would like to try on you. They’ll give your hair more moisture … and you’re going to need a shape-up.”
Sandra nodded. She had plenty of hair and could stand to lose an inch or two.
“I have a style in mind to complement the shape of your face. It’ll make you look younger and even more beautiful.”
Sandra blushed. She was about to become a grandmother. Without a husband or a man friend, there was no need for any enhancements. But she agreed. “Sure.”
With efficiency, Talise whipped a cape around Sandra’s shoulders and escorted her to the shampoo bowl. From the fragranced shampoo, to the stimulating conditioner, to the gentle care exhibited when Talise washed her hair—Sandra had no complaints.
Back at her station, Talise proceeded to blow-dry Sandra’s hair. Thoroughly enjoying the experience, she relaxed and let her mind wander. Yet all of her thoughts seemed to lead her back to Talise and the baby’s wellbeing.
“So how’s Tammy?” she asked, as Talise used a flat iron to straighten her hair.
“She’s going through some rough patches, but as my sister—I mean, her sister tells her,” Talise slipped and corrected. “This too will pass.”
The conversation turned toward the Jamieson wives, Grandma BB, and Kami. They laughed until Talise focused her attention on trimming Sandra’s straightened hair.
“Your ends aren’t bad, but you still need a slight trim.” She turned Sandra’s face to the left and right, analyzing the shape of her hair. Once Talise was satisfied with an imaginary style, she heated her curlers.
Amazingly, a short time later, Sandra didn’t realize Talise was finished until she handed her a face shield. With one hand, she covered her own nose and sprayed oil sheen and holding spray on Sandra’s hair. Once she finished and turned the chair around to the mirror, Sandra gasped at her reflection. Blinking several times, she practically stuttered, “Is that me?”
Laughing, Talise removed the cape. “Yes, and you are more beautiful than ever.”
In a state of awe, Sandra turned her head from side to side. She fingered her hair, unable to remember the last time it felt so soft.
“You’re definitely talented,” she complimented, unable to keep her eyes from misting.
At that moment, the woman who Talise had introduced as Sasha, the shop owner, walked by. “The girl is bad, ain’t she?”
Speechless, Sandra could only nod.
Sasha chuckled and mentioned it was a shame Talise was turning away customers.
“I’m reducing my roster,” Talise explained.
“I hope you keep me on your list,” Sandra said, as she reached into her purse for her wallet.
“It’s my treat,” she said. Her smile was genuine.
There was no way Sandra wasn’t going to pay. “Thanks, but no thanks … and here’s a tip,” she insisted, while jamming five twenties in Talise’s smock pocket. “How about a late lunch?” Sandra asked, still wearing her determined face.
“I’ll have to pass. Sasha’s going to wash and set my hair, so that’s a minimum of two hours. Before you go, let one of the girls wax your brows. And then, look out, you’ll be fighting the men off.” Talise chuckled, with a faraway look in her eyes.
“Not tonight. I’m going home and then to church tomorrow. Speaking of which, don’t forget, you’re welcome to come.” Sandra hoped her invitation was subtle.
Following Sasha to the shampoo area and settling herself in the chair, Talise didn’t answer right away. Sandra waited patiently. “I don’t know,” she finally said. Then with a sigh, she added, “Okay but, Sandra, if the pastor gets long-winded, I’m leaving and probably won’t come back.”
“Great.” Sandra was thrilled but would pray for a short and sweet sermon. “It’s called Faithful Church on Woodrow Ave. Service starts at ten thirty.” Smiling, she said goodbye and walked to the other side of the shop to get her brows waxed. “Thank You, Jesus,” she whispered.
Twenty minutes later, Sandra was surprised to see Cameron swagger in as she was about to leave. The proud walk, arrogant air, and good looks were definitely Jamieson traits. Hugging her, Cameron brushed a kiss on her cheek and stepped back.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise.
“I had a hair appointment,” she answered, proudly shaking her head from side to side. “What are you doing here? Are you getting your brows waxed?” she teased him.
Cameron grinned. “Never. I’m just checking on Talise to see if she needs anything. After she left St. Louis, Kidd, my brothers, and I made a Jamieson pact. We’re going to be there for her, even financially, whether Ace faces his responsibility or not.”
With her hair tucked under a plastic cap, Talise snuck up on them. “Sorry, Cameron, I can’t take any more walk-ins for the day, nor will Ace ever walk back into my life.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I would go to church with you, but that’s one habit I don’t plan to develop,” Lois informed Talise. “I work all week long, go out on Saturday night, and regroup all day Sunday. Sorry, I’m sticking to my schedule.”
Talise felt obligated to go to service this morning after she stood Sandra up the week before. She really enjoyed Sandra’s company, and at times, it slipped Talise’s mind that she was Ace’s mother.
Seeing Cameron yesterday was another matter. His walk and some of his facial expressions reminded her of Ace. Ironically, his generosity clashed with Ace’s callousness.
Being around his cousin filled her with regret for falling f
or the wrong Jamieson. Unfortunately, there was never any chemistry between them. It’s too bad because Cameron seemed like a genuinely good guy.
Nevertheless, his visit had flooded her mind with memories of Ace. She had come home and cried that evening. It also happened to be bad timing. Her father had called while she was in the middle of her distressed moment.
Frederick could tell right away that something wasn’t right. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you crying? Did you and that no good young man have another fight?”
Whenever they talked, she evaded the subject. She never told her dad outright there had been no relationship—period—since she learned of her pregnancy.
“Daddy, Ace and I didn’t break up.” She paused to gather strength. “He dumped me as soon as he found out about the baby.” Talise braced herself as he exploded.
“What! You mean to tell me that he deserted you? What kind of animal is he? That’s it,” he practically growled into the phone. “I’m coming to get you and bring you home,” he yelled.
She held the phone away from her ear while her father continued his tirade. He kept it up so long that Talise thought he was going to hyperventilate. By now, she was sure Donna was somewhere near him with a brown paper bag.
“Daddy, calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down. I have a problem with you not telling me this until now, Talise.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to give me this gambler’s legal name and address. It appears this Ace and me need to come to some kind of understanding. You should have told me this sooner …”
Even though her father was causing her head to pound, she welcomed his anger. It mirrored her own bottled-up rage. He was right. It was time for her to go home where there would be no reminders of a Jamieson. Talise had to give this some serious thought.
She could have her things packed up by the end of the week. Her dad could fly in, they could rent a U-Haul, and then drive back to Richmond. Of course, she would have to turn over her remaining clients to Sasha. Talise could trust her to distribute them among the stylists, according to her clients’ preferences. She would definitely miss her friend Priscilla, but they would stay in contact.