Chapter 15: The Barbershop
The Dream House
Book One
I wasn't planning on going back to the barbershop so soon.
The haircut was still fresh.
At least fresh enough in my opinion.
Apparently Luna disagreed.
"Your fade is already growing."
I nearly dropped my coffee.
"What?"
She pointed toward the side of my head.
"Right there."
I immediately reached for my hair.
"Stop."
Luna laughed.
"I'm serious."
"No you're not."
"Maybe a little."
We were walking through downtown Toronto on a surprisingly warm Saturday afternoon. The city felt alive. Street vendors were out. Patio restaurants were packed. Somewhere in the distance a musician was playing a saxophone badly enough that it somehow sounded impressive.
Luna was carrying an iced coffee almost as big as her head.
I was carrying a sketchbook.
Some things never change.
"So why are we really going?" I asked.
Luna tried to look innocent.
A terrible decision.
She was incapable of looking innocent.
"Maybe I want braids."
"There it is."
"What?"
"The truth."
She laughed.
"Okay, maybe I want braids."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
We continued walking until a familiar sign came into view.
IMANI BARBERSHOP.
I smiled without realizing it.
The place looked busy.
The large front windows revealed people sitting, talking, laughing and waiting for their turn. Music drifted through the open doorway. Not loud enough to be annoying. Just loud enough to create energy.
The place felt alive.
Not like one of those fancy salons where everybody whispers.
Not like those places where nobody makes eye contact.
This felt different.
The way neighborhood businesses feel different.
Like everybody knew everybody.
Like stories lived there.
The moment we stepped inside, the smell hit me.
Aftershave.
Hair products.
Coffee.
A strange combination that somehow worked.
A group of young guys sat near the waiting area debating basketball.
An elderly man was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
A little boy sat proudly in a barber chair showing off a fresh haircut to anyone willing to look.
The atmosphere made me smile.
Then I noticed her.
A petite Latina woman standing near one of the styling stations.
She couldn't have been much older than us.
Dark hair.
Confident smile.
Quick movements.
The kind of person who looked like she always had somewhere to be.
The moment she saw Luna she waved.
"You must be here for the braids."
Luna blinked.
"How did you know?"
The woman pointed toward her hair.
"Lucky guess."
Luna laughed.
"I like her already."
"Most people do," the woman replied.
"I'm Ruth."
Luna introduced herself.
Then immediately followed Ruth toward one of the stations.
Traitor.
Just like that I was abandoned.
Some friend.
"Nice."
The voice came from behind me.
I turned.
A man stood near one of the barber chairs wiping down his station.
Simple black shirt.
Calm expression.
Observant eyes.
Nothing about him demanded attention.
Yet somehow he seemed to notice everything.
"Back already?"
I recognized him immediately.
The barber.
Sinnad.
I don't know why, but he always looked like he knew something everyone else didn't.
Not in a creepy way.
Just... aware.
"Apparently my fade is growing."
He glanced at Luna.
Then back at me.
"I see who's making the decisions."
I laughed.
"I'm starting to think so too."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
Then disappeared.
The strange thing about Sinnad was how difficult he was to read.
Most people advertise their personalities.
Loud people are loud.
Funny people want you to know they're funny.
Serious people practically announce it.
Sinnad wasn't like that.
Half the time I couldn't tell whether he was joking.
The other half I wasn't sure if he was studying people.
"Sit."
He pointed toward the chair.
I obeyed.
Mostly because it felt weird arguing with someone holding clippers.
As he worked, the conversation drifted naturally.
No forced questions.
No awkward small talk.
Just conversation.
The shop continued moving around us.
People came and went.
Customers laughed.
Phones rang.
Music played.
Life happened.
At one point I noticed a teenage boy entering the shop.
His shoulders were slumped.
His expression looked defeated.
The kind of look people wear when life has been kicking them around.
Sinnad noticed him immediately.
Of course he did.
He seemed to notice everything.
"Give me ten minutes," he told the boy.
The teenager nodded.
And something interesting happened.
His posture relaxed.
Just a little.
Not much.
But enough for me to notice.
Which made me wonder.
How often had that happened?
How many people walked into this place carrying invisible weight?
And how many left feeling lighter?
I glanced toward the waiting area.
The teenager now sat laughing with the elderly man from earlier.
Somehow.
Somehow that had happened in less than five minutes.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I looked back toward Sinnad.
He was focused on the haircut.
Calm.
Quiet.
Ordinary.
Yet something told me there was more to him than he allowed people to see.
Much more.
The problem was...
I couldn't tell whether that made me curious.
Or cautious.
Maybe both.
And for some reason, that bothered me.