Eventually, I gathered all my products, sprays, clips, brushes, and bags before quietly makin’ my way outside.
The second I got in my car and shut the door, I finally let myself breathe. Or at least tried to.
My chest felt tight, and I leaned my head back against the seat while tears slid down my face before I could stop them.
I hated stories like this. I mean… really hated them.
I grabbed a tissue from my console and wiped my eyes before foldin’ my hands together and prayin’ quietly to myself.
“God… please cover they family,” I whispered. “And please keep me soft enough to do this work without hardenin’ my heart.”
I stayed like that for a while before finally reachin’ for my phone.
Business was business, and social media brought in a lot of my funeral clients because people trusted work they could see.
I uploaded the pictures carefully and stared at the caption box for a minute before typin’.
It was truly an honor to style these beautiful souls today. This one touched my heart deeply, and I’m praying hard for everybody affected by this loss. Even on the hardest days, I trust that God placed me exactly where I’m supposed to be. Rest peacefully, Queens.
Soon as I posted it, the comments started floodin’ in with women tellin’ me my work was beautiful, people prayin’ for the family, and other stylists admittin’ they wouldn’t be strong enough to do this kind of work every day because it would break them emotionally. I kept scrollin’ through everything quietly until one particular comment made me stop.
And this why I love you. I’m proud of you Mama.
Just seein’ Renza’s words sittin’ under my post did somethin’ to me, and before I could even decide whether I wanted to ignore him or not, my phone started ringin’ with his name across the screen.
Three whole days passed since me and Renza talked, and somehow one comment from him still hit me right in the middle of my feelins.
I stared at the screen for a second before answerin’.
“Hello?”
His voice came through low and deep immediately. “I love you, baby.”
My eyes closed because only God knew this nigga’s voice did somethin’ to me every time.
I wiped under my eyes quickly and looked out the windshield. “Wussup?”
I seen yo’ post,” he murmured. “I’m lockin’ the shop up right now, and I’m comin’ to you.”
Somethin’ about the way he said it almost made me cry all over again because there was no questions in his voice. There was no pressure for me to explain what I was feelin’, and no awkward attempt at comfortin’ me through the phone. Renzajust knew me well enough to understand I didn’t need to sit alone after dealin’ with some heavy shit like this all day.
I swallowed hard and looked down at my lap for a second before finally noddin’, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“A’ight, Mama. I’m on the way.
By the time I finally made it back home, my body felt exhausted, but emotionally exhausted more than anything.
I took a long shower after I got home and stood under the hot water until my skin felt warm enough to loosen some of the heaviness sittin’ on me. Once I got dressed in one of my soft lounge sets and wrapped my hair up, I climbed in bed and pulled the covers over me while the condo stayed quiet around me.
About thirty minutes later, I heard keys. A few seconds later, Renza walked in my room lookin’ fine as hell.
I could tell instantly that he had just got a haircut because his waves looked fresh and thick, and his skin practically glowed against the black shirt stretched over all them muscles. This man always looked and smelled expensive.
He had bags in one hand and a glass vase full of flowers in the other, and soon as I saw the white orchids mixed with soft blush roses, I already knew he didn’t just grab no random bouquet from a grocery store on the way over here. Everything about it looked expensive, thoughtful, and carefully put together.
I watched him walk over and carefully set them on my nightstand before finally lookin’ at me fully.
