I glanced over my shoulder. Callahan was leaning against the headboard, his expression slightly puzzled as he watched me.
“This?” I lifted the bonnet slightly. “It’s a bonnet.”
“Okay?” he said, still frowning faintly. “I don’t get it.”
I paused for a second before pulling it over my head.
“It protects my hair,” I said simply, adjusting the elastic so it sat comfortably.
He watched me for another moment, clearly processing that answer.
“Protects it from what?” he asked.
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. I turned toward him fully, settling back against the pillows.
“From friction. Cotton pillowcases dry out my hair and cause breakage. The satin keeps moisture in.”
He was quiet for a moment, absorbing that. Then he asked, completely seriously, “Do I need to tell Emily to do the same?”
I just stared at him. My brain stalled on the question. Emily. It took me a moment to realize what he meant, and that was when it clicked.
My husband had absolutely no idea what I was talking about, because he had clearly never encountered it before. I felt something shift in my understanding of him as the realization settled quietly into place. Callahan had never dated a black woman before.
That was the only explanation for the confusion written plainly across his face.
I briefly wondered how I hadn’t noticed it sooner. But then again, my not noticing meant it wasn’t a big deal for him. So I wouldn’t make it into one either.
“No,” I said. “You don’t need to tell her that. We have different hair types.”
Understanding slowly crossed his expression. “Oh.”
He didn’t say anything else after that, but the thoughtful look lingered on his face for a few seconds before he leaned back more comfortably against the headboard. I reached for the remote and turned on the television.
The familiar opening music of my Chinese drama filled the room as the episode loaded.
Callahan glanced at the screen, then back at me. “Are we still watching The Story of Kunning Palace?”
I settled into the pillows, pulling the blanket up slightly as the episode began. “Yes.”
He watched the screen for a moment as the characters appeared, speaking rapidly in Mandarin while the subtitles scrolled across the bottom.
“I don’t understand how you keep up with that,” he admitted.
“You read the subtitles,” I said matter-of-factly.
“I’m trying," he grumbled. "It seems like a lot of work.”
“It’s really not.”
On screen, the female lead was confronting the male lead in what appeared to be an emotional argument. Callahan watched silently for about ten seconds. “Is she crying?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He’s trying to get close to her, but she’s still hung up on the past.”
“What happened in the past?”
