Free Unbeweaveable by Katrina Spencer Page A

brought back to a cold reality.
    Oh, that. No weave. That was the hardest thing of all. What was I going to do without her? Who was I without her? One thing’s for sure. Never say never.
    I got off the plane in a dreamlike state, praying that at any moment that I would wake up and find myself back in my small, but lovely, apartment in New York. I walked past everyone and waited patiently for my luggage, a nondescript black bag that wasn’t anything like the Louis Vuitton luggage that I sold a week prior. I was surprised to see my half-sister waving and carrying on at the entrance.
    I groaned. I hoped to postpone our reunion, but now here she was—her hand waving, her long, wavy brown hair dancing around her head, her light skin sparkling in the sunlight.
    â€œWelcome home!” She hugged me, engulfing me in Chanel No. 5. “I’m so glad to see you! It’s been over a year, oh my goodness, you look great!”
    Great? I looked a lot of things, but great w asn’t one of them. She gathered my luggage and stowed it in her black Escalade while I hoisted myself in the passenger seat, but not without admiring the dark leather interior, high-gloss wood grain details, and chrome accents.
    â€œIt’s good to see you, too, Renee,” I said as I buckled my seat belt. She heaved herself in the driver’s seat and looked at me.
    â€œI mean it, Mariah, I really am glad to see you.” She smiled at me and put her hair behind her ear, revealing four-carat diamond stud earrings that sparkled and glinted so much, I literally needed sunglasses.
    â€œAre you hungry? We could stop and get some breakfast before heading to the house?”
    â€œNo thanks, I ate a little on the plane.”
    â€œThat’s not real food. Let’s go by Sal’s and treat ourselves to a real breakfast.”
    Sal’s was the diner in a part of town we rarely frequented, yet it somehow became the after-school hang-out. Their prices were small, portions were big, and ambiance was low but the food was good and the closest thing to homemade. We drove there with her talking about all the things she had been up to, me politely nodding at the appropriate pauses. She noticed that I was quiet for most of the ride and would only answer questions when asked. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation and tried to emit enough negative energy so she would get the point and stop talking. It worked. The rest of the trip she was silent.
    We pulled up in front of Sal’s, and I wasn’t surprised that it hadn’t changed much in the twelve years I’d been gone. The white paint on the wood frame building was peeling and chipped and the steps up to the front door groaned with our weight. A black sign with stick-on black letters told us to seat ourselves and we sat in our usual booth near the rear of the restaurant. We grabbed our menus from the table; mine was splattered with ketchup or hot sauce, and I grabbed a napkin from the stainless steel dispenser and cleaned the plastic menu.
    â€œI’m having French toast. What are you having?”
    â€œProbably just an egg white omelet.”
    â€œThat’s it?”
    â€œNot all of us are blessed with the skinny gene, Renee. Some of us have to work to stay thin.”
    â€œYou look great; you don’t need to lose any weight. In fact, you look a little thin.”
    â€œGood. Bony is the look I’m going for.”
    Our waitress approached with two glasses of water, and we placed our order.
    â€œSo, Mama said you lost your job. I’m sorry about that.”
    I shrugged. “Technically I didn’t lose my job. The magazine folded. So me being unemployed has nothing to do with my job performance.”
    â€œOkay, that’s good, I guess? Well, you don’t have to rush to find anything. I mean, you can take your time to find a job. Maybe you could find something you really enjoy.”
    â€œI enjoyed my old job,