I rushed in the door out of breath, “H___Hey, Lo…Lou, yo-u still open?” Lou’s eyes lit up as he smiled with that graceful smile I’d seen a thousand times. “Boy you know we always open fo’ you. Get cho’ butt in this chair.” It was 6:37pm and Lou still hadn’t taken off his maroon barber jacket, that’s how you knew he lived in this ol’ shop. Lou claimed he went home at night, but you could walk in at 2 o’clock in the morning and he’d be sitting right there, looking out the gated window, in his red leather barber chair, smellin’ like oil sheen and Barbasol shaving cream, like he knew you were coming, and you were late.
I had been coming to this barbershop since I was four years old and everything was the same. Same dirty ol’ Sprite vending machine that didn’t work, takin’ up half the space in that lil’ shop. That machine was so dirty you could barely read the names of the choices. Didn’t matter though, like I said it was broke. Manny Jr. tripped over the chord while he was runnin’ around the shop one day. That machine never worked after that, and then Lou put up a “No Running” sign just above the door. The sign had big red printed letters and an exclamation point. I think exclamation points scared kids, cause none of em’ ran around the shop after that, includin’ me.
It was the same ugly green and white tile floor, with a few cracks exposing the wood underneath. Lou did his best to clean up the scuff marks on the floor, but there had been a lot of people in and out of here. Alotta Air Forces, J’s, Chucks, and Superstars. Mike Tyson had come in once. He’d come in one time when he was in town for training. Matter fact a bunch of famous ol’ dudes had been in here; John Conyers, Coleman Young, Marion Berry, Ron Isley, Frankie Beverly, Walton Payton, and even Lawrence Taylor. Lou had frames up with all of them. Matter fact he had a picture with just about everybody, at least from this neighborhood; Mommas, daddies, brothers, sisters, aunties, cousins, grandmas friends and not-friends. They were all cluttered over each other on the big mirror that took up the whole wall behind his barber chair, right above the counter were he keep the Wahl clippers, scissors, hand mirrors, towels, cotton balls, alcohol, Barbasol, razors, combs, bushes.
I had a picture up there. It was kinda covered up by a few other pictures, and tinted yellow from light damage, but you could see me and Tia all dressed up for prom. You couldn’t see Lou though, but he was in the picture. Lou gave me that tux for prom, I wasn’t going to go. He said that every man needs to go to their prom. The tux was a little big on me. You could see the sleeves covering my knuckles, and the pants bunched up near my ankles. I didn’t care though. I didn’t care about nothin’ that night, Lou let me drive the caddy.
“Ya want a shave?” Lou asked me, as I sat in his chair. He wrapped the tissue liner around my neck and I took a sniff; Yep, oil sheen and Barbasol. “Naw, I’m alright. Just take it down a lil’ bit,” I answered. He put the black cape around me and started humming. Lou always hummed while he was cutting hair. It was always Sam Cooke too, A Change is Gonna Come.
“How’s that little boy doin?” he asked.
“Oh, he’s good,” I said.
“You bringin him up right?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” I said.
You always knew when Lou was just about to finish because he’d stop humming and start going “uh huh, uh huh.”
“Uh huh, uh huh” Lou was finishing up.
He handed me a mirror and I said “Yea,” then he poured alcohol on his hands and rubbed my forehead, the back of my neck, and the sides. He covered my eyes with one hand then sprayed oil sheen on my head with the other. He removed the tissue liner from my neck and buzzed off those last few hairs down there. I stood up and Lou bushed off any hair left on my clothes.
“Alright,” he said.
“Thanks Lou,” I said.
“You bring that boy in here now,” he said.
“Yes sir,” I said.
As I headed toward the door, I grabbed my coat and tried to glance threw the big cluttered mirror to get a look at my hair. No luck, too much history was plastered over it.
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