Page 78 of Truce Of The Matter

“You don’t have to, baby. Ever. She’s gone and she ain’t coming back. I promise you that and don’t I always keep my promises?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop crying. It’s all better now.”

She sniffles and squeezes me tighter. Her cries slowly fade and I hold her until they end. I slipped up when I let Aria back in our lives. That’s on me and I’ll have to live with that horrible decision. However, I will not make it again. Aria isn’t worth not one of my baby girl’s tears.

It took the rest of spring break for Aryel to really get over that Aria bullshit. The day after that bullshit with Aria, I took a day off from the store and we had a daddy-daughter day. We went to Custom Plushies, where she customized and built a stuffed princess and a fish. Afterwards, I let her fill up a basket of books at her favorite bookstore, Kaley and Kiley’s Place. I did my best to overshadow that one day with better memories.

Today, she’s getting her hair washed and braided. Although Lyra really fumbled as our sister, she hasn’t failed at her auntie role. Yesterday, she reached out to Aryel and this appointment was set. Lyra actually picked Aryel up from school and brought her to the salon. I just left the store and now I’m pulling up to the salon to scoop her.

When I walk into the salon, as usual, April, the owner, hawks me down as I walk to Lyra’s station. She has been on me since I started bringing Aryel in to get her hair done. Although I’ve never fucked with her, she doesn’t let up.

“Always good to see you, Rex,” she says flirtatiously. “Mmhm.”

She winks after faking a moan and all the ladies in the chairs laugh, even my sister as she removes the drape from Aryel’s neck. As I approach, Lyra pumps her chair up then turns it so Aryel can see her hair in the mirror. Her entire face smiles as she examines her hair in her reflection.

“I have hearts! I like these. Thanks, Auntie,” she gushes.

“You’re welcome, twin.”

“Daddy, you like it?”

“I love it. Does it hurt?” I question because the two braided hearts on each side look like they would hurt and I don’t want Aryel in pain.

“No. Auntie don’t hurt me, Daddy.” Aryel runs her hand down the braids hanging from the ponytail then she shakes her head to sling them around. Her hair is getting so long.

“They are not tight, Rex. I got this,” Lyra says. She places her foot on the chair and it drops. “Why don’t you go up front so Niecy can take pictures for my Cliqued page,” she tells Aryel.

“No face on the pictures. Cover your face with your hands,” I add.

“I know,” she says with a little eye roll that I catch but let slide.

Lyra’s wandering eyes and fidgeting say she wants to talk. I’m just not too sure if I want to listen. If Romelo is anywhere in the picture or with her, not only is that nigga a dead man walking but my relationship with my sister wouldn’t exist anymore. The image of her in that hospital bed with her face barely recognizable and her body bandaged will always make me despise him. And Dax doing time behind that shit makes me want to put him to sleep permanently.

“How much I owe you?” I ask and she responds with her own question.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“I got five,” I say although I have an hour.

It’s the end of cookie season and this afternoon, the patches will be announced and awarded. Based on the sales numbers, Aryel is definitely getting the Top Cookie Seller patch this evening at Gravity Zone for the troop celebration.

“I’ll take whatever you give me. Let’s go in the back.”

I glance to the front and see Aryel posing for pictures with both hands covering her face. Then I follow Lyra to a small break room in the back of the salon. She walks over and stands in frontof the refrigerator. While tossing a comb back and forth between her hands, she props her head back on the fridge.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Romelo is gone,” she utters.

“But why the fuck was he here in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just lonely. Stupid but lonely as hell. One morning, I woke up and he was in my DMs. It was simple good morning messages and reels at first and I ignored them. But he was persistent. The DMs came every day and I responded. It was easy, familiar, and some attention. Believe it or not, men aren’t checking for women with fucked up faces.”

“You can barely see it, especially when your hair is like that.”

She brushes her hair hanging down the left side of her face then pushes it behind her ear. Her scars have come a long way and with hair and makeup, they’re practically invisible.

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