massage, Raquel let the masseuse out and let the manicurist in. An hour after that, Raquelâs hairdresser and makeup artist arrived.
The bridal suite was exquisite. To her left, Raquel could see the sprawling oak trees through her oversized bay window. It was a serene and peaceful sight. Raquel chose this hotel because it was minutes from Coolwater Church. Both were located in Fordham, Texas, a city less than an hour and a half from Houston.
Raquel and a group of other hairstylists had fallen in love with Coolwater Church over five years ago after a bunch of them had attended a funeral for their longtime supplier. They couldnât believe such a beautiful church existed. Before the funeral was over, Raquel knew she would get married in that church one day. After leaving the funeral, she drove around until she found a suitable hotel for her reception. She fell in love with the Oakley because it was almost as beautiful as the church. She had to drive up a long, winding road to get to it. The road had huge trees on both sides of it, so big they shaded the entire path. It looked like something out of a movie. When she finally arrived at the hotel, she was greeted with a building that looked like a multimillion-dollar mansion. This was no ordinary hotel. It had the âaweâ factor that Raquel was looking for.
The four-poster king-sized bed was as soft and supple as Raquel had imagined. After the rehearsal dinner last night, she hurried to wrap herself within the Egyptian cotton sheets. Raquel particularly enjoyed the unique antique furniture and oversized mahogany desk. As Raquel walked through the room, her bare feet walked over a hallway elegantly designed with marble. The hotel provided several large vases of fresh flowers to add the finishing touches to the room.
All the hard work had paid off. She had pounded the pavement for years, even doing hair for free in the beginning just to get clients. It was embarrassing at times, standing outside of grocery stores with flyers and business cards while her old friends passed her, barely acknowledging her presence.
Raquel knew they would never understand her. She would only be wasting her time trying to explain. They wouldnât understand what it was like to grow up with a mother who did not really want a child and with a father who did not stay out of jail long enough to be much use.
Raquel was a teenager when her mother looked her in the face and told her she needed to find somewhere else to live. Her mother had a new man in her life and he didnât want to be bothered with Raquel. It didnât surprise Raquel to have those words come out of her motherâs mouth. Mothering hadnât been one of Samanthaâs qualities.
Samantha wanted a job that paid the rent and supplied her with adequate funds to buy all the alcohol and food she wanted, while having enough left over to make sure she kept her man happy. That was it, nothing more, nothing less. Raquel barely knew the rest of her family, because her mother didnât keep in touch with them.
Raquel convinced her mother to let her stay for two more weeks. Her mother agreed. During that time, Raquel took off from school, claiming she had chicken pox, and braided all the hair she could. Each day, she hustled until she found someone willing to pay her at least sixty dollars for micro braids. Mostly, she stopped mothers or single fathers walking around with little girls with unruly hair. They loved the price and the fact that Raquel would do the braiding in the privacy of their own homes.
At the end of the two weeks, Raquel had enough money to furnish and rent a small garage apartment near her high school. Raquel knew she could have stayed with one of her friends, but she didnât want anyone to know about her circumstances. People thought her life was perfect because she was pretty and captain of the majorettes. The illusion was all she had, and she didnât want to risk losing it.
Raquel
The bridal suite was exquisite. To her left, Raquel could see the sprawling oak trees through her oversized bay window. It was a serene and peaceful sight. Raquel chose this hotel because it was minutes from Coolwater Church. Both were located in Fordham, Texas, a city less than an hour and a half from Houston.
Raquel and a group of other hairstylists had fallen in love with Coolwater Church over five years ago after a bunch of them had attended a funeral for their longtime supplier. They couldnât believe such a beautiful church existed. Before the funeral was over, Raquel knew she would get married in that church one day. After leaving the funeral, she drove around until she found a suitable hotel for her reception. She fell in love with the Oakley because it was almost as beautiful as the church. She had to drive up a long, winding road to get to it. The road had huge trees on both sides of it, so big they shaded the entire path. It looked like something out of a movie. When she finally arrived at the hotel, she was greeted with a building that looked like a multimillion-dollar mansion. This was no ordinary hotel. It had the âaweâ factor that Raquel was looking for.
The four-poster king-sized bed was as soft and supple as Raquel had imagined. After the rehearsal dinner last night, she hurried to wrap herself within the Egyptian cotton sheets. Raquel particularly enjoyed the unique antique furniture and oversized mahogany desk. As Raquel walked through the room, her bare feet walked over a hallway elegantly designed with marble. The hotel provided several large vases of fresh flowers to add the finishing touches to the room.
All the hard work had paid off. She had pounded the pavement for years, even doing hair for free in the beginning just to get clients. It was embarrassing at times, standing outside of grocery stores with flyers and business cards while her old friends passed her, barely acknowledging her presence.
Raquel knew they would never understand her. She would only be wasting her time trying to explain. They wouldnât understand what it was like to grow up with a mother who did not really want a child and with a father who did not stay out of jail long enough to be much use.
Raquel was a teenager when her mother looked her in the face and told her she needed to find somewhere else to live. Her mother had a new man in her life and he didnât want to be bothered with Raquel. It didnât surprise Raquel to have those words come out of her motherâs mouth. Mothering hadnât been one of Samanthaâs qualities.
Samantha wanted a job that paid the rent and supplied her with adequate funds to buy all the alcohol and food she wanted, while having enough left over to make sure she kept her man happy. That was it, nothing more, nothing less. Raquel barely knew the rest of her family, because her mother didnât keep in touch with them.
Raquel convinced her mother to let her stay for two more weeks. Her mother agreed. During that time, Raquel took off from school, claiming she had chicken pox, and braided all the hair she could. Each day, she hustled until she found someone willing to pay her at least sixty dollars for micro braids. Mostly, she stopped mothers or single fathers walking around with little girls with unruly hair. They loved the price and the fact that Raquel would do the braiding in the privacy of their own homes.
At the end of the two weeks, Raquel had enough money to furnish and rent a small garage apartment near her high school. Raquel knew she could have stayed with one of her friends, but she didnât want anyone to know about her circumstances. People thought her life was perfect because she was pretty and captain of the majorettes. The illusion was all she had, and she didnât want to risk losing it.
Raquel
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