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Two months passed before she showed up with a bottle of wine, some cheese and crackers, and her Bible. She said since I’d refused the faith of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, she’d had to stop associating with me because Jehovah’s Witnesses disassociate with outside folks. She lost focus over losing my friendship, given what we had shared. She said she knew God meant her to be in my life and me in hers, and that was all there was to that.
    â€œDon’t mean I’m giving up God. I’m still gonna do the Lord’s work, but I know He did not mean for me to hate on my friends,” Dulcey said.
    She went to hairdressing school and soon after, opened D’s Beauty Spot, a full-service hair, nail, foot, and facial salon that was now being renovated.
    I slammed on my brakes and almost rear-ended the car in front of me, which had stopped for a red light. “Shit.”
    â€œWhat’s that you’re talking?” Dulcey said.
    â€œGirl, I almost crashed listening to your nonsense.”
    â€œI know them knots in your head gotta be squeezin’ your brain ’til you’re simple ’bout now,” she said, ignoring my rant.
    I ran, or rather I tried to run, my fingers through my hair. The new growth of kinky hair barred the effort and tenderized my head. I felt cursed, unable to handle what I had inherited from my mother, which was more hair than Methuselah grew in his 969 years on God’s earth with the might to mutilate a steel-toothed comb.
    â€œYeah, you’re right,” I said, massaging my scalp. “These roots are definitely snapping my neck back. And oooh, girl, my head is sore as hell. A manicure and pedicure are overdue, too.”
    â€œHow you gonna keep that fine man?” Dulcey asked. “Lookin’ like somebody’s old-ass reject! Here, you got that fried chicken–brown complexion, them crazy green eyes, and smack-your-mama body, and you walkin’ around with gorilla hair. Girl, you best bring your butt in here.”
    â€œCan’t today. Got court.”
    â€œC’mon in tomorrow and I’ll tighten you up. More to the point, I can’t have no friend of mine walking around lookin’ like a ho-come-lately.” She cackled extra hard, then told me about the shop renovations and her plan for attracting more customers of the brighter persuasion. “Won’t be another shop in Philly can run up against Ms. Dulcey.” She hesitated a moment, then spat, “Nareece called” like it was burning her tongue. “Reecey hasn’t spoken but two words to me in just about all the years since your parents passed. As I recall those two words were ‘Fuck you’ with extra emphasis on ‘you’ the day she left outta your house when you all argued about some boy she was seeing. You remember . . .”
    â€œYes, I remember. What’d she want?”
    â€œAsked whether I thought she was wrong for wanting to talk to Baby Boy and tell him the truth and ask for his forgiveness. Muriel, she sounds like she’s in a hard way. Why all of a sudden she want to mess with things? You should have told Travis a long time ago. I understand why you didn’t but . . . Anyway, he’s old enough now, girl. That boy loves you so much it won’t matter to him a bit.”
    I hesitated, not wanting to get into another “what I shoulda done” conversation right then. “I always planned on telling him before he left for college. I want to be the one, though. Not Nareece.”
    â€œClose as you two are, you all need to talk and iron out the wrinkles before you involve him. He’ll be fine with it and still love you both, you as his mother and Nareece. It wasn’t her fault. Look, I gotta go. These guys are trying to install mirrors over the washing sinks instead of where they belong.”
    Saved by the mirror installers. “Yes. And I have to get ready for court.”
    â€œHold on.