Guest Post: Flash Fiction (Clara's no joke by Jeff Unaegbu)

For the first time in our four-year-old relationship, I go with my fiancé, Eddy, to a hair salon. It is a crowded place run by Lady Clara, a fleshy black American. She has many hairdressers working for her. But most people prefer to get the treat directly from her deft fingers. If you say that you do not know who Clara is or where her salon is, people will take you for a newcomer to Abuja or a recluse. Clara’s Beauty Salon is a very popular place. Clara herself is a funny lady who does not mind that she is very fat. When you laugh at her tubby tummy and her legs that appear slim and unfit to carry her weight, she gives the thumbs up and pulls a face at you. She tries to make a joke almost every minute, hardly ever stopping for you to laugh as much as you want.

She continues to talk, even when it is my turn to have my hair dressed and when I try to explain to her how I want my hair styled.

I ask if she heard me. She replies merrily, “I hear with my ears, honey, I do the talking with my mouth, okay?”

Laughter.

I remove my hairnet and sit down, facing her. She tucks my head backwards into her washbasin and quickly pours on my loose hair a bowl of hot water: viaam-viaam! What the heck!

Everyone is still laughing at her reply to me. She has moved on.

    “It’s in the breaking news today that a sister's long hairdo was ruined by a ceiling fan!”

    Loud Laughter. Now, of all her prattle, that one can pass as a joke.

    “Honey, I’m gonna make your hair thin, just the way you want it!”

Eddy walks into the salon, signals to me that he is going to his place to await my arrival. I nod my head in response. Clara did not note that he is my fiancé nor did she see that we signaled to each other. Ten minutes later, she is looking for fodder to stoke up her chatter, and the lot falls on my Eddy!

“Did someone just see a brother walk in here and walk out again?”

Muffled laughter. I prick my ears in alarm.

“I ask the question because …(Place your head this way. No, that way. Yes, hold it right there, sister.) because, I am about to take the real news to Clara FM!”

Stop her! Tell her he is your man!  I do not know whether it is curiosity that stops me from stopping her or a subtle intimidation created in me by an already expectant crowd of waiting women or both. My heart is thumping like drumbeats. My mouth is shut and pouting!

“Now, I am not telling one of my jokes here….”

Thank God it is no joke, I think.

“I hear the brother likes women a lot. He does not know a hair salon from a barber’s shop! (There is thunderous laughter.) He’s come here five times this week. (But that was no joke!) I’m gonna get my share of his cake next time! ”

“STOP!” I yell and spring away from her.

I pick my things hurriedly and walk out as fast as I can. I wish I can just be deleted like a computer file. My hair is wet and the hairnet seems not to be doing its job of covering the mess properly. Of course, I do not want to see Eddy. So I go straight to my pad, throw myself on my bed and cry myself to sleep.
 
 
Jeff Unaegbu is a poet, short story writer, actor, fine artist and a documentary film maker. You can find out more about Jeff HERE and read his BLOG here.

JEFF UNAEGBU (This guy can write!)