Free Culture Clash by L. Divine

over the place.
    “So, how was your day?” Mama asks, mixing the sweet-smelling cream in her mortar, carefully adding ingredients as she blends. It smells like coconut and an herb I can’t quite put my finger on. Whatever it is, the scent simultaneously lifts my spirits and calms me down.
    “Let’s just say I’m glad it’s the weekend.” And I’ll be even happier when I get to my mom’s house tonight. I want to take a long bath and finish the next chapter in my novel before I go to sleep. Ms. Toni was right; I’m loving this book.
    “And yours?” I ask, retrieving the blend of Florida Water and lavender oil wash that we use to cleanse ourselves before working on clients’ heads. I begin my wash, leaving the door open so I can hear Mama’s response. I’m glad Netta has a bathroom for her clients in the wash area and a private one back here for us.
    “It’s going well,” she says, glancing in the direction of the main shop. I know the women in there are haters of Mama’s and they know better than to mess with her. I’m sure their energy must work Mama’s nerves, even if she could crush them with one look. It must be hard, having all the power you need to hurt your enemies yet being wise enough to control it. That’s one of many lessons that I’ve yet to master.
    “Jayd, let’s go,” Netta yells. Mama smiles at me and passes me a clean towel from the shelf behind her to dry off from my quick cleansing.
    “Thank you,” I say, taking the towel from her hands. The scent of her work is on the towel, surging up my nose and through my entire body, making me feel better than I have all week. Mama smiles at my reaction and returns her focus to the creation in front of her. I finish patting myself dry and step back into the spirit room to return the cleansing potion to its place before I get to work.
    When I walk back into the main room, the clients seated at the dryers stare toward the back of the shop where Mama’s working and talk amongst themselves. At least they know better than to voice their gossip within our hearing, not that Mama cares one way or another. I can’t wait until they leave so I can talk to her and Netta without spying ears and eyes, which won’t be for a few more hours. But as long as we get some time together, I know I can get some clarity on my issues.
     
    After the last client finally leaves, we get busy cleaning the shop and catching up on our days. I gather the wet towels and other laundry left behind from the busy day and put them in the laundry basket—I’ll wash them first thing in the morning. After collecting the last of the dirty laundry, I replace all of the old linens with fresh ones and listen while Mama and Netta talk. They chat about the clients and their lives, but mostly about the progress of their individual hair regimens.
    Like two doctors prescribing medicinal cocktails, Mama and Netta tailor each client’s box with exactly what they need to maintain their healthy heads. It’s amazing what you can learn about someone from how they wear their hair and what they use on it. Mama makes a product for everything from insomnia to being broke. I placed the cream Mama made earlier into small containers to spread out among the various clients in need of a calm head. No wonder I responded so well to the scent: at that moment it was just what I needed.
    Last night’s dream still has me a little shook up, not to mention the mental ass-whipping I gave Reid earlier this afternoon. The more time I’ve had to digest what went down today, the more certain I have become that I can never do that again, which means I have to learn how to control that part of my sight—just like I am doing with my dreams. What if someone had seen us? This time I would not have been able to feign innocence like I did when I choked up Reid’s girlfriend. Laura would happily testify on his behalf and the witch hunt would be on—again. And I doubt that I could escape another accusation that I hurt