It's a Curl Thing

by Jacquelin Thomas

  She’ll never be able to put her hands in my hair again. How could she mess me up like that the day before prom? Deep down I know she didn’t do it on purpose, but…we’re talking about the prom. This is a big deal!

  Anyway, enough about the hair. The emergency is over, even though it nearly scarred me for life. I am happy to report that there are only six weeks left of my sophomore year. YEA!!!!!

  Almost time for my nail appointment. Gotta go….

  Auntie Mo takes pictures of me after I get dressed. “You look stunning,” she tells me.

  I run my fingers across the tiny crystals hand-sewn along the waistline of my gown. “I love my dress.” My gaze travels to Auntie Mo’s glistening eyes. “You’re not about to cry, are you?”

  “Your mama and I used to dream of this day. Lord, I wish she were here to see you.” She wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “I wish both my sisters were here to share this day with us.”

  I glance over at the photo of my mom sitting on the mantel above the red brick fireplace. “I wish they could be here, too.”

  I reach into my small clutch purse and offer Auntie Mo a tissue.

  My brother’s prom is tonight as well, but you wouldn’t know it the way he’s strolling into the house at six o’clock. My aunt’s gets on him right away about cutting it so close.

  “Brady, the limo is gonna be here in about thirty minutes,” she reminds him. “You still need to shower and get yourself dressed. Boy, hurry up.”

  I run my fingers up and down my dress, admiring Auntie Mo’s skills at keeping my mind off the fact that my date hasn’t shown up yet. Traven had better not leave me hanging on one of the most important nights of my life.

  My eyes travel to the clock set on the mantel.

  “Where is he?” I murmur.

  I walk over to the window but resist the urge to peek outside. I’m not gonna go all paranoid.

  My limo is the first to arrive and still no Traven. He and his parents were supposed to be here by now. I glance over at my aunt, who says, “He’ll be here, sweetie.”

  My little brother, Phillip, runs out of his bedroom, leaving his video game long enough to check me out in my gown.

  “Sis, you look nice,” he says. “You’re pretty.”

  That’s what brothers are for. I give him a hug.

  Brady, my older brother, joins us, doing a slow spin before striking a pose, his shoulder-length dreadlocks falling around his face.

  I have to admit that he looks decent in the no-button tuxedo jacket and matching pants. Because he’s such a muscular guy, this style really works well for him.

  “You look handsome, Brady,” I say after a moment.

  Auntie Mo agrees, before something catches her attention.

  “Traven’s here and he’s looking sharp,” she announces, taking a peek out the window.

  “It’s about time,” I mutter. “He was about to get left.”

  “You need to quit,” Auntie Mo responds before opening the front door. She plasters on a big smile when Traven and his parents enter the living room.

  I have to admit that Traven looks really good. I love the seven-button mandarin collar on the jacket over his banded white shirt and black tuxedo pants. He chose a deep peach-and-silver vest to complement my dress. He’s got a fresh haircut—I’m loving it. Traven stands at six feet tall, and his teeth, even and white, contrast pleasingly with his dark chocolate skin.

  He presents me with a colorfully designed wrist corsage bursting in blooms of purple, pink, and a peachy color that matches my dress perfectly. His parents and Auntie Mo both take pictures of him putting it around my left wrist. The mere touch of his hand sends a warming shiver through me.

  Brady suddenly puts his hand over his mouth.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

  “I forgot to pick up Shaquan’s corsage. Man!”

  Auntie Mo and I exchange amused looks while my brother is having his meltdown.

  “I can’t believe I forgot to pick it up. It’s too late now.”

  “Brady, calm down,” I say after letting him stew for a minute. “Auntie Mo took care of it because she knew you’d forget. Oh, and that corsage you picked out was not gonna work. Her dress is strapless, so you’re supposed to get a wristlet…” I hold out my arm. “Like this.”

  “So what did you get?” he asks Auntie Mo eagerly. “You know I don’t know nothing about flowers.”

  She sends my baby brother off to the kitchen. He returns a few seconds later with a plastic container holding a wrist corsage with mini calla lilies joined with leaves and dark red berries accented with gold and black ribbons.

  Brady gives Auntie Mo a bear hug. “I love you.”

  Traven and I smile and take one final picture before Auntie Mo announces, “You all need to get on outta here. Brady, you need to pick up Shaquan. Then y’all still got to pick up the others you’re sharing the limo with. Traven, you and Rhyann have dinner reservations for seven o’clock sharp. You don’t know how traffic’s gonna be on the way to Pacific Palisades.”

  I pick up my clutch purse and say, “Let’s go.”

  “Traven, I can’t believe you gonna skip out of our prom to hang out with all those snobby rich kids,” Brady says. “I don’t know why you wanna hang out with a bunch of white folk. You know they won’t be playing our music.”

  “Brady, hush your mouth with talk like that. You don’t live in an all-black world,” Auntie Mo tells him. “We need to learn to live in unity and not see color whenever we look at another person.”

  Traven replies to Brady, “I’m going because I want to spend time with Rhyann, and she wants to go to her own prom. If our proms weren’t the same night, I would’ve asked her to come to ours.”

  Traven takes my hand in his as we walk down the steps to the waiting black stretch limousine. Brady, his crew, and their dates wanted to ride in style in an SUV limo.

  “We’re gonna have a good time at the prom,” I promise Traven. “I know Dorsey is predominately African American, and at Stony Hills Prep there’s only about twenty-five of us, but my school knows how to throw a party. The band performing is white, but we have a brotha for our DJ.”

  “I’m not tripping,” Traven says easily. “Everything is cool, Rhyann.”

  He and I discuss music and our favorite artists during the ride to Santa Monica, where we meet up with Mimi and her date, Kyle Marshall, at the Lobster Restaurant on Ocean Avenue. Mimi and I always eat here whenever we come to the Pier.

  One of the reasons I love this place is because no matter where I’m sitting, I have a perfect view of the Pacific Ocean. Normally, Mimi and I prefer to eat out on the terrace so that we’re able to enjoy the fresh shore breeze while we’re eating, but this time we’re going to have dinner inside.

  While we wait to be seated, she checks me out from head to toe. “Rhyann, I don’t know why you don’t like your hair—it’s cute. I love it. You look beautiful.”

  This time I smile. I know from the looks Traven’s throwing my way, the evening will work out just right.

  We’re seated at our table ten minutes later.

  I can feel Traven’s eyes on me as I scan my menu. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” I say.

  He laughs. “Why you trying to be so hard? You’re my date tonight, so let’s enjoy the evening.”

  I lay the menu on the table and reply, “Since you’re buying dinner, not a problem.”

  Traven reaches over and takes my hand in his, which Mimi doesn’t miss. She breaks into a big grin, showing her pearly whites and all.

  I send her a look that I hope says, Don’t you open that big mouth of yours.

  Message received. She picks up her menu and pretends that she doesn’t know what she’s going to order. Mimi already knows what she’s getting, though. She gets the same thing every time we come here.

  The waiter arrives. We give him our entree orders along with our drinks.

  “I’ll have the sautéed tiger prawns scampi sty
le and lemonade,” I say.

  Traven orders the same.

  “Have you had it before?” I ask him in a whisper while the waiter is getting Mimi and Kyle’s order.

  “I’ve never eaten here before.”

  “You’re gonna love it, Traven. It’s spicy, though.”

  “You know I love spicy food.”

  When our waiter leaves, I ask Mimi, “You ordered the jumbo crab cakes, didn’t you?”

  She breaks into a smile. “Kyle ordered the crab cakes. I ordered the grilled New Zealand king salmon, thank you.”

  I’m totally shocked. “I don’t believe you. You actually ordered something different? For as long as I’ve known you and all the times we’ve come here, you’ve never ordered anything other than the crab cakes. The world is coming to an end—I know it.”

  Kyle laughs. “So that’s why she recommended the crab cakes. She’s the expert.”

  Traven turns to him. “Your dad is Ryan Marshall, the tennis player?” he asks. “If he wins the Wimbledon men’s singles title next month—that makes what? Six years straight?”

  Kyle nods. “Yeah, but he says this year might be difficult. It’s going to depend on which bracket Rafael Nadal is placed into.”

  “Okay,” Mimi interrupts. “No more talk on sports of any kind.”

  “Then it’s gonna be a pretty quiet evening,” I say. “That’s like saying we can’t talk fashion. Speaking of which, I can’t believe that chick sitting over there is wearing those ugly shoes with that beautiful gown. Those two things are working against each other.”

  Mimi takes a look. “You wouldn’t believe how much those shoes cost.”

  “I don’t care either,” I retort. “No amount of money will make them go with her dress.”

  Traven leans forward and says to Kyle, “Man, did you see the shirt that guy is wearing under his tux? It’s white.”

  Kyle pretends to be shocked. “What? He’s wearing a white shirt under his black tux? Somebody should call the Fashion Police.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah—we’re sitting with two of them right here.”

  I give Traven a playful punch in the arm. “Very funny.”

  “Oh, go back to talking tennis,” Mimi says. “In fact, I’ll start…Rhyann, did you see Venus on the cover of this month’s Essence magazine? She looks great.”

  Traven and Kyle crack up laughing.

  We make small talk while we wait for our dinner to arrive.

  Our conversation halts when the waiter arrives with steaming hot food. We don’t spend a lot of time talking, because the food is delicious. I notice Mimi can’t resist having a bite of Kyle’s crab cake. She’s addicted to them.

  After dinner, Traven and Kyle pay for our meals, and we get up and stroll out to the waiting limo. On the way to the door, I catch a couple of haters giving me the evil eye.

  Look all you want, because I look fierce and I know it.

  Chapter 5

  Mimi and I make a quick pit stop to the ladies’ room to freshen up before making our grand entrance into the Bristol Room at the Viceroy Santa Monica Beach Hotel. I check my teeth for food particles and run my fingers through my hair.

  “You really look beautiful, Rhyann.”

  I glance over my shoulder to where Mimi’s standing. “So do you. I have to tell you, girl, that dress is gorgeous. I know your parents spent some benjamins for that.”

  Mimi’s dress has a crystal bead trim on the halter straps and features a plunging, sweetheart neckline and what my aunt calls a keyhole front. The sweet-pea-colored taffeta material hugs her body like a glove, then flares around the knees.

  “Yeah, it’s a Jovani design, and it cost a lot. I really had to beg Mother to buy it for me. Can you believe she thought it was too expensive? It’s not nearly as much as she spends on those couture gowns of hers.”

  “And you’ll probably never wear it again,” I say.

  Mimi’s mouth turns downward into a frown. “I can’t be photographed in the same dress twice.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “Be original and do something different. That’s such a waste of money as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Rhyann, we should trade dresses,” she suggests brightly. “Your aunt sewed her tail off with this one. Your dress is fierce. I can wear that to this charity ball Mother’s forcing me to attend with her.”

  “You better call Jovani or somebody to design something else for you,” I say. “I’m keeping my gown. I’ll probably wear it to the homecoming dance next year.”

  “But everybody’s going to see it tonight.”

  “And?” I ask. “I like my dress and I’m wearing it. My aunt worked too hard on this gown just to let it sit in my closet.”

  Mimi sticks her lips out in a pout. “You’re so stingy with your clothes. Divine and I trade clothes all the time.”

  With a slight shrug, I respond, “I don’t like wearing other people’s clothing. Sorry, but that’s just me.”

  “You can be so boring at times.”

  I head to the door. “Back at you.”

  We meet up with our dates just outside the doors of the banquet room. We can hear the music—the whole place is jumping!

  Traven and Kyle open the double doors so that Mimi and I can enter together. The room is beautifully decorated with luminous blue carpeting and black-and-white wallpaper.

  We reserved a table just to make sure we had a good spot when the band performs. Kyle pulls out a chair for Mimi while Traven does the same for me. I can feel everybody’s attention on us. For the most part, they’re probably wondering who Traven is. All I have to say is…don’t hate.

  After we’re seated, Kyle and Traven leave to get us something to drink. They return a few minutes later, chatting like they’ve been friends forever.

  “I really like your haircut,” one of the girls from the next table tells me on her way to the dance floor. “Rhyann, you look beautiful with your hair like that.”

  When another girl compliments me on my new look a few minutes later, I pull out a compact mirror and peer at my reflection. “Everybody seems to like my hair like this. Maybe I need to rethink this.”

  “I told you.” Mimi reaches for her cup of punch and takes a sip. “You look fierce, Rhyann.”

  Traven wants to dance, so I get up and we head out to the dance floor. I love dancing, and Traven is a good dancer.

  On the way back to our table, he tells me, “Rhyann, I didn’t know you was this fine. Every time I see you, you got on that ugly school uniform or jeans and a T-shirt or one of your college sweatshirts. You probably got a sweatshirt from every historically black college in existence.” His gaze drops from my face to my shoulders.

  “I still have a ways to go with the sweatshirts. As for me being fine, Traven, you don’t even go there with me. We’re just friends and we’re gonna stay that way.” I’m playing it cool, but I’ve had to fight the urge to keep from staring at him all night long.

  This boy is fine.

  “Why it got to be like that?” he wants to know, grabbing my hand. “You know I’m into you.”

  I chuckle. “Traven, you’re into everybody. I’ve known you since I was in second and you were in fourth grade. I know you think you’re a playa. We do better just being friends. Trust me.”

  “Rhyann, c’mon…I’m not really like that and you know it. Yeah, I was trying, but then I had to be honest with myself. I’m only trying to do me, you know. My brother is a playa big time. I can’t do him or anybody else. Just give me a chance,” he pleads.

  “You’re one of my best friends, Traven. I don’t want to lose your friendship. If we get involved and you try to play me, it won’t be pretty.” I shudder at the thought. “It’s not gonna happen. Not right now anyway.”

  One of my favorite songs comes on, prompting me to turn around. “C’mon, let’s dance, Traven.”

  “I’m not giving up on you, girl,” he says as we make our way toward the center of the dance floor.

  “Only until the next
pretty face walks by,” I counter with a smile. “I see you. You can’t even dance without looking at all the girls in this room.”

  He pretends to be wounded. “Rhyann, you know I’m not looking at nobody but you. What do you want me to do? Just close my eyes? Or do you know where I can buy a pair of blinders quickly?” Traven chuckles. “You’re crazy.”

  We dance until a slow song comes on. I turn to walk off the dance floor, but he grabs my hand, saying, “You’re not tired, are you?”

  “No. I just figured we’d sit this one out.”

  Traven shakes his head. “I want to dance. I love this song.” He gathers me into his arms, holding me so close that I can feel his uneven breathing on my cheek. “I don’t think we’ve ever been this close,” he whispers.

  I can’t talk because I’m enjoying his closeness. My heart is beating with the pulse of the music, and my flesh prickles at Traven’s touch.

  Hmmm…I need to remember this feeling for one of my poems.

  The song ends just in time. Another minute and my trembling limbs would’ve given out.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say. “I need to get some air.”

  “Want me to go with you?” Traven asks, looking concerned.

  I shake my head no. “I’m okay. Just need some air.”

  I leave him at the table and venture across the room, heading to the door. Outside the banquet room, I take a seat on a nearby love seat.

  Mimi rushes over to me and says, “Traven’s got you all hot and bothered, huh. I saw you two—”

  “Shut up, Mimi. I don’t want to hear it.”

  She sits down across from me. “You sure are acting all evil.”

  “I’m sorry, but I just get tired of you saying the same old stuff all the time. You know that Traven and I have been friends forever. Stop trying to be a matchmaker. You suck big-time at it.”

  “You’re still mad at me about Patrick, aren’t you? Rhyann, he had me fooled, too. I really thought he was a nice guy.”

  That is the wrong subject to bring up. “Well, he was anything but nice. He had everybody believing that we slept together.”

  “Why do people always call it sleeping together? You’re not sleeping—you’re having sex.”