Me, My Hair, and I by Shawneda (reading books for 4 year olds TXT) 📕

children your dead sister left behind. My Mom taught me genuine love is never a burden. I remember her. Every book we read together. Every song we sang. The fun we had doing our ice cream sandwich dance. I’m not Keylisa. You aren’t raising me from a baby. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I know you’re upset about me calling you dishonest, but you need to be quiet.” Aunt Tanya pointed at me when she said you. She crossed her arms.

“Maybe this is what you want. You’re the best person to walk the Earth since Jesus, Aunt Tanya. Thank you for being a perfect person. Thank you for loving me and my poor little orphan sister.”

“JeShaun LaTanya Wright, I’m serious.”

Something inside of me snapped. “Me too, Aunt Tanya. Congratulations--”

“Stop this. Your mother is rolling in her grave listening to you talk to me like this,” Aunt Tanya took a step back toward the door.

Rage filled every fiber of my slim seventeen-year-old body. Hairs on my arms stood on end as I kept hearing her say my full name over and over in my head. “You want me to address you as Auntie of the Year, instead?”

Aunt Tanya took a step back and drew in a sharp breath.

“I can’t forget I’m here because my Mom is dead. Even when I want to, you won’t let me forget. Maybe you need the reminder, Aunt Tanya. You’re the Aunt. Auntie of the Year. Decade. Maybe the century. That’s who you are. Aunt Tanya. Not the Mama… Until you have kids with Uncle Corey of your own.”

Ice filled my veins. I froze. Solid. Tried my hardest to reach out and pull the word back in my mouth. Force the muscles on my face to move my lips to apologize. Heartfelt, snot bubble cry apologize. Except my entire body refused to respond to my thoughts.

Blood drained from Aunt Tanya’s face. Folks say black people can’t go white. She didn’t, but she got awful close. All the red of her undertone disappeared as big tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I know my words hurt you, JeShaun. I rushed to judgement instead of… You and I don’t need to be in the same space.” Aunt Tanya stopped talking and blinked for what felt like an eternity.

My feet thawed. I tried to take a step forward.

“JeShaun, I’m not your mother. Have never tried to be her. Replace her. How can I? Why even try? All I want to do is make sure you girls knew her. How much she adored you.” Aunt Tanya shook her head. My blood ran cold as she studied my face. As if she recognized me but didn’t know me at the same time. “You look so much like her… sometimes I.”

My arms hung limp at my sides as the tears rolling down her face turned to a steady stream.

“I’m not your mother. Corey and I are the adults responsible for you and Keylisa. So before I say something to hurt you more or scar you for the rest of your life, I’m going to leave.” Aunt Tanya turned to leave. “Cause mother or not, I am the adult between the two of us. You’re not grown, yet, JeShaun. Not yet.”

Movement rushed back into my hands, legs, and feet as soon as Aunt Tanya turned the corner out of my room down the stairs. I heard her grab her keys from the hook and go out the door into the salon before I had the chance to think of what to say. My legs collapsed under me as I tried to get to my bed. My sobs racked my entire body as I replayed every disgusting word over and over in my head.

“Good morning, Ms. Brielle,” I poked my head in and looked around for my Aunt Tanya. We kept missing each other. More like she kept avoiding me. Every time I thought I’d find her alone to apologize for saying what I said, I missed her.

The sun streamed in through the window. Glitter in the shiny finish on the stylist’s chair sparkled as I eased into the room. My pulse raced as I hoped to see a light under the door to Aunt Tanya’s office. No such luck. I’d never seen a darker door bottom.

“Your Aunt went on a run.” Ms. Brielle patted the back of the chair. “Funny, back in the day if I said things like you said to your Aunt to my Mom, I’d be the one running. Away from her, my aunts, my grown cousins, my grandparents, the mothers at the church.”

My shoulders sagged in disappointment. “She told you.”

“Yeah, she told me. Crying and hysterical as per her usual. This time the tears and drama fit the moment. Your Aunt is not perfect, JeShaun. Neither are you. She loves you.” Ms. Brielle began taking my hair down from the previous week’s style. Each intricate twist and moisturized strand given delicate consideration as she prepared to shampoo my hair.

A ragged sigh escaped my lips. “She won’t let me apologize.”

“Make her hear you. Find a way to show her you’re sorry. Very. Very. Very. Very. Very.” Brielle unraveled the last flat twist design on the right side of my hair. “Very sorry. Almost repentant.”

Regret filled the pit of my stomach. “She’d know I meant the words if I model for the shoot tomorrow with Keylisa. I saw the preliminary notes. She wanted me to do some funky looking puffs. You saw the design she liked?”

“Yea, I know the design. I picked it for you to wear. I’ll give you your look for school after the photoshoot.” My godmother swiveled the chair around. “This is a very good start to softening her up to say your sorry. Your mother’d be proud of you.”

My heart perked up a little at the thought of pleasing my Mom. She hated to see people fight. She loathed when family members got into it over anything. Big or small. Didn’t matter. “Your people aren’t