Mama Peaches & Geraldine Go To The Salon
“Peaches, where are you taking me?” Geraldine asked, eyeing the street lined with restaurants.
“To the salon.” Mama Peaches continued looking straight ahead while driving.
“The salon, why you getting your hair done again so soon? You just got it done Tuesday.”
“No, we’re getting yours done.”
“Mines done?” Geraldine gasped and clutched her invisible pearls. “I don’t need my hair done. My wig collection suits me just fine.”
Ignoring the green light ahead, Mama Peaches slammed on the breaks and cocked her head in Geraldine’s direction. “Suits you fine? Geraldine, it’s the middle of a heat wave in Chicago, my air conditioner is broke on this old thang, but we can’t roll your window down to get a decent breeze coming through here because the wig you think suits you fine won’t stay pinned down with even the slightest breeze. You’re going to the salon.” Mama Peaches pulled off shaking her head.
“Peaches, I said my current wig collection suits me just fine,” Geraldine said through pinched lips. She grunted and folded her arms over her chest. Her crimson red bottom lip poked out.
“If you’re referring to that questionable stash of wigs you keep getting from that Korean beauty supply up the street, then I beg to differ.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with me shopping at the Beauty Bar for my hair. The owner and on-site wig specialist, Jen Li, knows what I like and gives me discounts.”
“Specialist? Ain’t nothing special about what she does to your head. More like a mess I tell ya. Now, I’mma take you to my girl and she’s gonna hook you up with one of those lace front wigs since you love wearing other people’s hair so much.”
“Lace front? Why not a cotton front since it’s so hot. It would keep me cooler.” Geraldine’s shoulders bounced as she chuckled at herself. When she looked over but didn’t see Mama Peaches enjoying her joke, she squashed her laughter and pursed her lips. “Ain’t that what I let you talk me into getting some years back when they first became popular. Shoot, I ain’t getting no damn lace front. My edges haven’t grown back since that incident.” Geraldine rubbed at her hairline.
Mama Peaches chuckled to herself reeling in the flashback of watching Geraldine take the lace front wig off only a day after it had been installed. “That girl told you before we left that shop what you needed to do when you were ready to take it off, but no, after one day, you complained that it was too tight and snatched it off. That wasn’t the lace front’s fault, that was yours.” She turned the wheel to the right and then put the car in park.
“I ain’t studying you, Peaches.” Geraldine wiped sweat from her forehead.
“Anyway. We’re here and you’re getting something done to that head of yours.” Peaches stepped out of the car and let out a deep breath, fanning herself and reaching back into the car for her pocketbook. She looked back over at Geraldine rubbing deodorant under her arms. “Maybe even let your natural hair show.”
Geraldine snapped her neck at Mama Peaches. “If I plan to be buried in and with my wig collection, you think I’mma be caught alive without one?”
Mama Peaches shook her head and slammed her car door before making her way to the salon.
“Peaches, hold on. Peaches.” Geraldine whispered loudly, shuffling her feet fast and clasping her wig with both hands.
Mama Peaches looked back at Geraldine struggling to hold her wig down while balancing her heavy purse on her arm and said, “And that’s why we’re here.” She pulled the salon door open.
“Mama Peaches.” A crowd of women screamed.
“Dawn, your 9-5 appointment is right behind me,” Mama Peaches said and a burst of laughter erupted in the salon as the door closed.