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“I’m not sure I’m the right person to help with your hair.”

“I think you are. I was going to ask Ice, but I think he’s a bit too impatient.”

I take the scissors from her. I don’t like the idea of Ice touching her hair or touching her. She starts to feel the knot and points to it.

“My hair is black and the hair extension is blonde. Cut the big knotted blonde extension.”

I gently make the cut, and it pulls the extension down. She shows me where to make the next cut; I do it and watch her take the braids down.

“How was your day?” she asks as I step back from her and sit on the edge of the bed, watching her separate her hair from the extension.

“Good, nothing exciting, which is always a good thing.”

She’s done with the separation, and she starts to comb her hair out. I’m amazed at how poofy it is.

“I had to take the braids down. It’s rough. I can’t take it to work. Plus, it needs a wash and deep conditioning before I get it braided again.”

I nod and keep looking at her.

“I’m going to shampoo. I’ll be out in a few. Did you have dinner yet?”

I shake my head, mesmerized by her.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen a girl with her braids down and the frizzy, poofy hair.” She chuckles.

I finally find my tongue. “You’ll be my first.”

She smiles.

“Well, then, I should warn you that it’s going to look different once I shampoo and condition it, probably not what you are used to or expect.”

“Okay.” I can’t wait to see it. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, wanted to finish taking my braids down.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.”

She smiles. “Sounds like a plan,” she says, getting up and cleaning the extensions before heading to the bathroom. I return to the living room to find Ice looking bored out of his mind.

“You can leave; she’s still taking care of her hair.”

He’s up right away. “Good night, boss.”

“Night, Ice.”

I check on our dinner; we have blackened salmon, sauteed green beans, and mashed potatoes. It all smells good. I know she might take a while, and I’m looking forward to a quiet evening with her. I race to the room to shower and change. When I return to the living room, the scent of food lingers along with my stomach’s cry for food, but she is not out yet. A few minutes later, she emerges, wearing knee-length leggings, an oversized shirt, and fluffy slippers, her face framed by square-shaped black glasses and a cascade of black corkscrew curls. I immediately stop. I can't help but stare at her; her beauty is truly captivating. Time stands still as we lock in a silent gaze. Her finger toys with a curl that springs back with a playful bounce.

“My hair is still a bit damp, and I didn’t want to wear another set of contacts.”

“I love the hair and the glasses,” I say before I can caution my lips.

“Thank you.” She smiles.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

We sit to eat our late dinner. I ask more questions about her hair. I frankly love her hair like this. She answers all my questions with details of her wash and conditioning. She explains her hair type is called 3C, so it needs lots of moisture to stay healthy. She plans to wear it down, as she says, for a week or two. She tells me Daniel’s wife, MAK, and Luke’s wife, Dele, have each provided her with a stylist, and she would like to talk to each stylist and probably visit. She has done her groundwork. She details Dele’s stylist uses her home and might be willing to come here, but MAK’s stylist uses her shop, and according to MAK, the lady doesn’t like to leave the shop.

We put the plates away and start the dishwasher.