Her face tear-streaked and her head pounding from all of her crying, Tiffany sat while Grandma combed through all the now-dried curls. Sometimes, she tugged too hard and when Tiffany whimpered, Grandma said, “Hush!” but also said, “I’m sorry, baby.” This time, Grandma sealed the ends
of the twists with rubber bands from the giant bowl. The hair balls were still at the bottom of Tiffany’s book bag. Dinner came quietly at their small kitchen table, and there was still no spanking. Maybe Mommy would do it, then, Tiffany hoped. But when Mommy came, there was still no spanking, just her quiet tree trunk frown. Mommy and Grandma talked alone in Mommy’s room with the door closed. Tiffany tried to listen through the crack at the carpet, but it didn’t work. When Grandma came out, Tiffany hid under the blankets in their bed, curled into one of her grandmother’s giant t-shirts, hoping that her grandmother wouldn’t wake her up just to spank her. It had worked before, but it had also failed once. But she had been really bad then, and she hoped this time wasn’t as much trouble. This time, she had even put her scarf on, to give Grandma no excuse to wake her up. Tiffany stopped squeezing her eyes tight when Grandma simply said her prayers and climbed into bed. When Grandma’s snores started, Tiffany finally felt assured enough to fall asleep herself, cuddled against her Grandma’s back. Nothing happened the next day, either, but that weekend, Tiffany would sit for five hours getting her hair braided, every bit of her own hair woven with a little bit of silky hair that didn’t feel like hers. She liked it because it felt
more like Kelly’s. Getting braids hurt even more than when Grandma had to comb through it, even more than the hot straightening comb. It was also boring, but the lady did Tiffany’s hair in her living room so they could watch TV. The lady burned the fake hair at the tips so that Tiffany couldn’t unravel them. When Mommy paid, her smile was stretched too tight, the smile she used when Tiffany got in trouble in public. Tiffany would bite and pick at the ends until they frayed, but she still liked them. They hung down her shoulders and she could tie them up in a long, swinging ponytail or wear her hair down whenever she wanted.
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