A Natural Woman

by Lori Johnson

  The truth hit him like a punch in the gut and all of his bottled up emotions came spewing out in waves. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, baby. I was trying to protect you. Don’t you see? I had to stay away long enough to know. I didn’t want to have any lingering doubts that might one day lure me back into her arms. I couldn’t take a chance on calling you or seeing you again until I knew for sure.”

  His tears spilled over her fingers and touched her heart. “It’s okay, Dante. I understand. I mean, if you’re still in love with this woman, then maybe—”

  “No! No!” he insisted. He pulled her hands against his chest. “It’s been over for years. I just didn’t know how to leave. I just didn’t know how to let go.”

  Aliesha knew in light of her own recent past with Kenneth, as well as the regrettable manner in which she’d behaved with Javiel, she was in no position to scold or condemn Dante for whatever might have transpired between him and some other woman while he’d been away. If she wanted forgiveness for her transgressions, it was only fair and right that she be willing to extend an equal portion of such.

  She eased her fingers down his chest and over his rib cage. “We need to talk, Dante. And not just about you and her. If there’s any chance of us starting over and making a sincere go of this, we both need to know what we’re signing up for.”

  “Are you saying it’s not too late and you’re still willing to try?”

  She smiled and said, “What? You really think I came all the way down here for a haircut? Doesn’t it go without saying that I wouldn’t have shown up at all today if some part of me weren’t still desperately longing to be with you?” She surveyed the building behind him. “But I must admit, I’m still somewhat leery of this place you’re claiming is a legitimate business. How come it doesn’t have a name? And why is my car the only one in the lot?”

  “My car is parked around back,” Dante said. “Why don’t you come inside and let me show you the rest.”

  On moving past the door he held open for her, a whiff of fried fish flared Aliesha’s nostrils and the sound of the soft, sultry piano and guitar duet that marked the song now burned into her brain’s audio memory as “The Chosen” landed with a feathery swoop inside her ears.

  Dante hurriedly moved from her path, a couple of large flower-filled containers, similar to the ones he’d left on her porch. “Sorry, I was going to put these outside,” he explained.

  She stood and quietly assessed the room’s interior. She saw one lone barber’s chair, several barren workstations, but no barbers. Nor did the strategically placed benches she noticed in the waiting areas hold any customers. Tall but neat stacks and piles of books lined the walls. But what really raised Aliesha’s eye brows, before sending them into a deep furl, was the beautifully set and fully loaded banquet table that stretched down the middle of the room.

  She turned to Dante. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

  “This is my new shop. Or, at least, it will be soon. My plan is to bring in a few more barbers as well as a couple of beauticians who specialize in natural hair.” With excitement ringing in his voice, he pointed to one of the numerous stacks of books. “All of these are going up on the shelves that I plan to have a carpenter attach to a good portion of the wall space. If it all works out, I’ll have the majority of them in the reading corner I hope to set up with a few comfortable chairs and a table. And get this, I’m thinking of calling the shop ‘Dante’s Metamorphosis.’”

  She met his broad, proud smile with one of her own. “Okay, I see. Basically, what you have in mind is a place where a transformation of what’s inside your head and what’s on it are both possible.” She walked over and waved a hand over the bowls, plates, and platters of food. “But what is all of this?”

  He came and stood next to her. “Well, this, my dear, is my peace offering. From the tablecloth, china, silverware, and even the food, most of what you see here came out of my Big Mama’s house and gardens. She was big on canning and freezing. She had so much, I had to give a lot of it away. But some of it’s fresh, like the tomatoes. I’ve even got some fish in the back that I seasoned with some of the herbs she grew.”

  She turned toward Dante and circled her arms around his waist. “Let me guess. You caught the fish yourself and they came out of the creek? The same creek your Big Mama drew her water from and added to the other secret ingredients of her lavender-scented shampoo?”

  “What’s that?” he asked, while donning a mask of pretend agitation. “Your way of teasing me about being a mama’s boy?”

  Aliesha shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet her. I really wish I could have, if only to thank her for you.”

  Dante stroked her face. “Don’t worry, I told her all about us. I’m sure she and my uncle Mack are somewhere nodding their approval as we speak. Hopefully, your own mother and father are right there with them.”

  When Aliesha eased her body against his and rested her chin against his shoulder, he embedded his fingers in the twists and twirls of her natural hair. She sighed and said, “That encore you promised me is long overdue, I want you to know.”

  He whispered, “Don’t worry, I plan on giving you what I owe you and a whole lot more.” While massaging her scalp, he added, “Can I let you in on a little secret? I knew from the moment my fingers got lost in your hair, I was destined to be your man. No lie, baby, somewhere deep inside, I knew from day one you were the ‘Natural Woman’ made and sent especially for me.”

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  A NATURAL WOMAN

  Lori Johnson

  The following questions are intended

  to enhance your group’s

  discussion of this book.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. Why do you think Wally might have been reluctant to cut Aliesha’s hair?

  2. Discuss some of the negative and positive assumptions you’ve heard and/or made about African American women who sport “natural” hairstyles.

  3. Share your thoughts on the significance of the relationship many African American women have with their hairstylists.

  4. Do you think Javiel was truly oblivious to the change in Aliesha’s appearance? If so, why do you think he didn’t notice? If not, why do you think he chose not to comment?

  5. In spite of their many differences, why do you think Aliesha and Monica were such good friends?

  6. Discuss some of the more unexpected ways the women in A Natural Woman supported one another. Which alliance(s) took you by surprise?

  7. What impact did Aliesha’s father have on her life? In what ways were Kenneth, Javiel, and Dante like her father? In what ways were Kenneth, Javiel, and Dante different from Aliesha’s father?

  8. Compare and contrast how Aliesha’s and Monica’s relationships with their fathers affected their relationships with men. In what ways might Laylah’s relationship with her father have influenced her relationship with men?

  9. Did you share any of Monica’s concerns about Dante? About Kenneth?

  10. Do you think Kenneth loved Aliesha? Had Dante not entered Aliesha’s life, do you think she would have eventually given Kenneth another chance?

  11. What did you make of Aliesha’s involvement with her church? Did the depth of her involvement with her church surprise you? If so, why? If not, why not?

  12. What did you make of the tension between Aliesha and Shelton? What do you think was behind his rude behavior?

  13. Discuss the role of the deceased in A Natural Woman. What impact did Aliesha’s dead loved ones have on her life? In what ways were Dante’s actions influenced by his dead loved ones?

  14. How did Aliesha’s interactions with Pat and Kristen differ from her interactions with Monica and Tamara? What did you think about Aliesha’s relationship with Peaches? Did you get the impression that any of these relationships might change over time? If so, which ones and in what ways?

  15. Did you notice any parallels between Aliesha’s relationship with Tam
ara and Dante’s with Yazz?

  16. Did you feel Aliesha should have exercised more caution or restraint before she invited Dante to spend the night?

  17. By the end, Wally, Gerald, and Yazz had each demonstrated their support of Dante and Aliesha’s relationship. Which man’s support surprised you the most?

  18. What do you think the future holds for Dante and Aliesha? What problems might they encounter as a couple?

  Want more Lori Johnson?

  Turn the page for a preview of

  AFTER THE DANCE

  Available now wherever books are sold

  HER

  I had never really paid that much attention to him before, even though he lived right next door. Usually when we ran into each other we’d nod, speak our hellos, and keep on ’bout our business.

  Nora, my roommate, was the one who told me his name was Carl. She’d talked to him on several different occasions. She also told me he’d tried to hit on her—like I wouldn’t have guessed it. Nora’s got this, well, this sluttish quality about her. And I’m not trying to talk bad about the girl or anything, it’s just that I don’t know how else to describe it. She kind of puts you in mind of some of those girls you see dancing on Soul Train. You know, the ones who look like their titties are about to shake outta their clothes? Or, the ones who are always turning their asses up to the camera? And that’s cool when you’re twenty-three and under, and don’t have the good sense to know any better.

  Anyway, according to Nora, our tall, dark-skinned, bearded neighbor was sweet, but not her type. I kind of looked at her sideways when she said that, but I didn’t say anything. Me and Nora go way back. I know all about her “type.” It’s dog. Straight up and down, dog. I’m telling you, she’s not satisfied unless some guy’s smacking her upside the head, taking her money, whoring all over town, or some combination of the three.

  Problem with Nora is that she’s still under the impression that there’s actually something called love out there, and if she searches long and hard enough, she’ll eventually find it. I don’t have any such illusions. See, I know ain’t nothing out there but game. And having played hardball with the best of them, I also know the secret to winning is knowing how not to get played—something Nora has yet to learn. That’s why every other month, just like clockwork, you can find her sitting up in the living room of the condo we share trying her best to kill off a fifth of scotch, looking crazier than Bette Davis did in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? and playing them same old sad-ass songs over and over and over again. And Lord knows I’d go to bat for my girl Phyllis Hyman (God rest her beautiful soul) any durn day of the week, but listening to “Living All Alone” fifty times straight on a Friday night, with no interruption, is enough to drive even the sanest sister out of her cotton-picking mind.

  And that’s how it happened that Carl and I had our first real conversation—if you want to call it that. I had just stepped outside for a break from the music and the madness and was settling comfortably into my patio chair with my pack of Kools, a chilled glass of wine, and a romance novel, when he opened up his back door, stepped outside, and noticed me sitting on the other side of the fence.

  He said “Hey” and I said “Hey,” and I thought that was gonna be the extent of it before he went on his merry little way. But no! He decided he was going to be sociable.

  “Must be Nora in there jamming to Hyman.”

  I said, “Yes. If it’s disturbing you, I’ll ask her to turn it down.”

  He said, “No, I was just wondering ’cause you don’t exactly look like the Hyman type to me. No, you look more like a—let’s see—Millie Jackson. Yeah, you look like the kind of woman who could really get into some Millie Jackson. Am I right?”

  I guess he was banking on me not knowing about Miss Millie, the late ’70s and early ’80s trash-talking forerunner to the likes of today’s Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown.

  No, you ain’t right, smartass, and you must be blind is what I started to say but didn’t. Instead I blew my smoke, swirled the wine in my glass, cut my eyes, and said in my coolest “don’t mess with me, man” voice, “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  HIM

  I knew I was taking a risk when I opened my mouth. My Uncle Westbrook was the first to warn me, way back in the day. “Son,” he told me, “you never know how a woman’s gonna react to what you say. Sometimes you’ll get a smile, sometimes you’ll get an attitude.”

  But really, I should have known better ’cause every time I see this chick, she looks like she’s got her jaws tight about something. I mean, we’ve been neighbors for nearly six months now, and she still acts like she don’t hardly want to speak.

  Some women are like that, man. If you didn’t know any better you’d swear they were born with permanently poked lips. Have to say, though, I’ve noticed it more in fat women. Not that I have anything in particular against fat chicks. Matter of fact, I’ve gotten right close to one or two. But a fat chick with an attitude—hey, that’s something else altogether.

  Yeah, she’s one of them feisty big-boned girls, man. She’s got a pretty face, though. Actually, she’d probably be a stone-cold fox if she lost, say, thirty or forty pounds and smiled every once in a while. But I guess that’d be asking for too much, huh?

  So I was standing there, right, trying to figure out how I was going to work my way out from under this Millie Jackson comment, when Nora came out and got me off the hook by informing the fat would-be-fox with the pretty but unsmiling face that she had a telephone call.

  Now, me and Nora, we’re cool. She kinda puts you in mind of a young Lola Falana with a double dose of spunk, you know? Though I’ll be damned if she ain’t always crying the blues over some dude. And this particular evening was no exception. Before I could even get out a proper hello, she’d launched into an all-too-vivid, blow-by-blow account of her latest hellacious affair. I don’t know, man, I guess it’s just something about me that brings out the worst in a woman. But being the polite fool that I am, I stood there nodding, grinning and grunting in all the right places, until both boredom and curiosity got the best of me and I walked over and picked up the book left by her roommate.

  Call me a proper bourgeois if you want to, but I still say you can tell a lot about a person by what they read. And it wasn’t like I was expecting the big sister with the bad attitude to be into something as heavy as Fanon’s Wretched of the Earth or anything, ’cause I’d seen her sitting out on the patio enough times with her head propped up behind a Harlequin to know better. But yet and still, I wasn’t at all prepared for anything on the level of a Jungle Passions either. I mean, the title alone was a bit much, but on the cover was this crazy Tarzan-looking character who’s got this even crazier-looking, big-breasted blonde wrapped up in one of those back-breaking, humanly impossible embraces. And you know me, I wasn’t about to let something like that pass without comment.

  “Excuse me for interrupting, Nora,” I said, “but might this be the type of relationship you’re looking for?”

  She glanced at the book and rolled her eyes. “Honey, don’t even try it! I’m into real-life, flesh-and-blood romances, not paperback ones. But yeah, Faye, she’s always reading that junk. And then got the nerve to tell me I live in a dream world. Ain’t that a blip?”

  DAFINA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2009 by Lori D. Johnson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-0-7582-7863-0

 

 

 
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