There’re plenty of people walking around the Heights, but no smart-ass punks with attitude hanging out on stoops. And no toddlers in droopy drawers splashing in wading pools set out on the sidewalk, just babies in Humvee strollers grabbing power naps on their way to yoga. Different from my hood, that’s for damn sure.
“Your hair color is very unusual. It is very…uh,” stutters Anna.
“Red? Dry? Sister, I’ve lived with this horsehair my whole life. It’s really bad since I colored it Paprika Red. Do you have a hot oil treatment or something? That’ll help. You need to blow dry it straight and then use a curling iron and hair spray.”
I lose Anna somewhere in the middle of my spiel. A big hulky guy, named Noah, whose English skills are decent, listens and tells her something I can’t catch. He sounds like he’s yelling at her, but she doesn’t seem upset, so I guess it’s just their way.
We toddle off to the hair washing chairs with leg lifts like mini-Barker Loungers. La-di-da. Boris recommends the Moroccan oil treatment. Anna applies it and parks me under a heat lamp and I start drifting off.
I stay awake, I text my BFF, Krystal with a play by play. She knows all about my ultimate secret motive, named Johnny. We’ve been buds since second grade when I thought she dissed my little brother and I had to get her mind right. Her black eye faded pretty fast and we’ve been soul sisters ever since.
It’s very spacious and elegant here. You could easy get twice as many chairs in and still have plenty of room. On my block, you’d get a family of six living in the back and run the shop out the front. Boris must be raking in the cash with four girls on hair, a massage lady and Noah, they’re cranking it out making beautiful people more beautiful than they have any right to be.
The music’s crap though. It’s some classical shit. No hot beat or pulse. And there’s no yelling or horsing around like the NuYu Salon on my block in Sunset Park. No way you’d nod off there. You got to stay on the ball, in case something comes flying your way, such as a hairbrush or a curling iron.
The reason I came here – no one knows me. I’d get smack-talk the whole time at NuYu. The ladies would start in on me and I’d get pissed off and god knows what all. I want to make a huge surprise reveal, so I want it top secret.
We shuffle back to the regular chairs to get started on the main business. An older lady sits down by me. Everyone’s so nice to her; I figure she must be a regular. She smiles a lot and seems relaxed and comfortable like it’s her house or something. Boris chats with her about her son and their vacation. I just tune them out and chill.
Now it’s time for the most critical stage of my hairdo. Anna carefully combs and dries each two-inch section of hair. She’s not gentle. My scalp is sore as the heads in a whack-a mole, but it’ll be worth it.
Little Dolly, the drone at the cube farm, who rushes off to work every day in my business casual suit and who nobody ever notices is breaking out big-time tonight. Johnny’ll be there for his little sis’s bash. Will he remember me, a snot-faced 9tth grader when he went off to college? God! I hope not. Back in the day, I used to babysit Francie and ask her about Johnny’s girlfriends and make myself sick mooning after him. Just my luck, he’ll look like his old man – bald and shaped like a lawn gnome. I send up a quick prayer to St. Jude.
Dear Anna continues to toil away on me. I glance up at the big pink and black clock. Godammit! I’ve been here over two hours and I still have a real strong Bride of Frankenstein vibe. I must be home by five or I’ll have to rush the great transformation when I turn myself into a beautiful butterfly.
Suzanne C Martinez 