life pulling faces . . .
‘Wow, Electra, that vacation’s sure done you good! You were on fire in front of the lens today.’ Miguel, the photographer (who I was positive had been born a simple ‘Mike’), waxed lyrical at me.
‘That was amazing, Electra,’ said Mariam as she sought me out in the dressing room afterwards. ‘I’ve never seen you look more radiant.’
‘Aw, shucks, Mariam,’ I smiled at her. ‘Miguel and XX have asked me if I want to get some lunch at Dell’anima as we finished so early—’
‘Electra, I don’t want to be a spoilsport or anything, but—’
‘It’s okay, I already said I couldn’t. I get that it’s too soon. I told them I had a meeting to attend, which I do, later. But first, there’s somewhere I want to go.’
As we pulled up in front of the salon on the corner of Fifth and East 57th Street, I turned to Mariam.
‘Would you go see if Stefano could fit me in?’
‘Oh, but . . . even for you, Electra, I doubt it. You know he’s always booked up months ahead, and it takes hours to straighten your hair.’
‘Mariam,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Do you not remember the conversation we had over lunch yesterday with Stella?’
‘Of course, but you were only joking, weren’t you?’
‘I so was not joking. Don’t worry, I’m gonna go in and speak to him.’
I was out of the car before Mariam could stop me. I spoke to the receptionist, who said that Stefano was on lunch, but as it was me, he might see me to say hello.
Stefano and I had met way back when I’d first arrived in New York and Susie had sent me to him before my first ever photoshoot. Being a mix of African-American and Italian blood himself, he was used to dealing with my kind of hair. I regarded our sessions as necessary torture, but I liked him a lot.
‘Is he out back?’ I asked her.
‘Yeah, but . . .’
I marched through the salon and pushed open the door marked ‘Private’ where Stefano and I had shared countless illicit lines during the very long and boring process of straightening my frizz into submission.
Sure enough, there he was, ‘powdering’ his nose.
‘Electra! Cara, what are you doing here?’ he said as he stood up and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘We do not have an appointment today, do we?’
‘No, we don’t, but I was just wondering if you have hair clippers to hand . . .’
Half an hour later, I walked out of the back door with perhaps, if I was being generous, a centimetre of hair left on my head. At first Stefano had refused to do what I wanted, but after threatening to do it myself, he had given me a fantastic fade. He’d tried to fuss over it with creams and a special comb, but I had batted him away – I just wanted it to be natural.
‘Oh my!’ Mariam said as I got into the back of the car next to her and she put her hand to her mouth. She was a terrible actress – every emotion was written on her face.
‘So, apart from the shock factor, what do you think of the new me?’
‘I . . . seriously?’
‘Seriously.’
Mariam appraised me with her perceptive and critical eye. Eventually she nodded and gave me a big smile.
‘I think it looks amazing!’ We gave each other a high five.
‘Can you imagine how many hours of my life I’m going to save having my hair like this? Wasted hours, Mariam. We’ll just tell Susie that from now on, if necessary, it’s wigs all the way. Now, there’s an AA meeting in thirty minutes in Chelsea, so let’s head there and stop off at a deli to get some lunch on our way.’
In the car on the way home after the meeting, Mariam turned to me.
‘Electra, would you feel okay if I went home tonight? I . . . need to see my family.’
‘Of course! I don’t want to keep you from them.’
‘You know that I’ll be on my cell if you need me, and it won’t take long to come uptown. It’s just for the weekend.’
I nodded, feeling guilty that I had kept her from her family. When we arrived back at my apartment building, I was pleased to see that Tommy was at his usual post again. As Mariam headed straight inside with no more than a ‘hello’, I stopped for a chat.
‘Hi, Tommy. I haven’t had the chance to tell