Being Lara (37 page)

“This is a buba—a blouse. It goes with the wrapper, which is also here, in my bag.” She retrieved an identical piece from her bag, unfurling it to reveal a rectangular shape. “It is a three-piece Nigerian suit for a lady. One piece is missing though. The head tie.”

“I know where it is,” Lara managed hoarsely.

She found the bag in the box, her heart racing with absolute urgency as she handed it to Yomi, who took it gently, like it was the most precious thing she'd ever set eyes on.

“The final piece,” whispered Yomi, her eyes wide, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

“It's identical,” confirmed Lara.

“Small enough to wrap you in the day I took you to the Motherless Children's Home. I cannot believe it has been with you all this time.” Yomi gave one big sob and then waved her hand frantically. “I can't believe it is here.”

Yomi handed both pieces to Lara, who automatically held them to each cheek as Yomi kept hold of the head tie, dusty and dulled by time. Each piece was identical though—musky, old, yet wonderfully familiar.

“I never forgot my baby, and anytime I was scared for you, thinking you were sad or crying, I held these close to me and would whisper over and over again:
it is well, my sweet Omolara. It is well.
”

“Really?”

“I could feel you so close to me. I know it is sounding stupid.”

“It doesn't sound stupid,” said Lara, her chest heaving, still holding the clothes against her cheeks, symbols of who she had been, who she could have been, and who she had become. It's then Yomi moved in closer, tentative at first, and when Lara didn't protest, placed her arms around her daughter, the two pieces of cloth still held against Lara's cheeks, and they began to sob. The two of them encircling three bits of cloth, which meant nothing to anyone else but
everything
to them. Tears, memories, and for the first time … hope.

And that's how they stayed until the phone rang.

L
ara woke up the next morning, in her own bed, with a smile, knowing the person she'd see reflected from her bathroom mirror would look the same as normal (except for the braids), while inside she had completely changed her outlook, belief system, and life script.

It was only ever clever to trust yourself.

Never rely on anyone.

That way no one can ever, ever hurt you.

The infamous mantra she'd previously lived her life by now felt irrelevant, silly even—and, most of all, untrue. So much had happened to pierce it, to contradict a belief system Lara had energized and breathed life into for a very, very long time. Like the appearance of Yomi and an eighty-plus-year-old woman who stooped when she walked, wore an
I WENT TO LONDON
T-shirt with a tie-dyed traditional wrapper, couldn't send a text message, yet now had “Sexual Healing” (because of the nice beat) as a ringtone. Like almost losing Tyler, almost losing Dad…

Lara had grown up into who she'd always wanted to be. Of course, she still had a lot to learn, but she would do so surrounded by those she absolutely loved and adored and couldn't imagine being without. She'd do all she could to enjoy these people while they were around, while she could touch and smell them and be a part of their lives as much as was possible. At the same time, she now felt wiser and accepting enough to know that even though things may not last forever, she could cherish them while they were in her life.

She wasn't just Lara Reid anymore; she was also
Omolara
. Her life had so many different layers, which she now felt happy to accept as part of her and without the need to rely on something so reductive as her prior mantra anymore. She'd been fighting her way through an internal war, torn between two sides, and now, for the first time, she was feeling like a winner.

She padded into the kitchen, enjoying the beautiful sunlight peeping through the window as she bent to pick up the mail. She immediately spotted the long gold envelope shining out of the pile, expecting to read something about a “win” on a Swedish lottery (subject to credit card details). Instead, the contents gave further proof to an earlier prediction that today was going to be a good day.

Dear Ms. Reid,

I am pleased to announce your nomination for Inspirational Businesswoman of the Year!

We would like to invite you to the reception to be held on September 20. Please see attached information for more details.

May we take this opportunity to congratulate you on this nomination and look forward to seeing you in September.

Good luck!

Sarah A. Adams

Secretary

I.B.Y. Nominations Committee

The two of them stood outside a little house, in a little street that meant so much to one of them. Mum was beaming, her smile stretching from ear to ear, comfortably treating Lara like a little girl again as she attempted to lengthen her daughter's “too short” jean skirt, commented on the suitability of leggings versus tights, and grabbed her hand as they'd crossed the road. Lara instantly forgave her mother's neurosis because she recognized the huge significance of this moment, arranging her facial features into serious mode as Mum pressed the doorbell.

A woman who looked a lot like the Queen answered the door with a tight smile, as Lara's and Mum's minds remained fixated on similar thoughts—not knowing what to expect, yet deep down hoping for something.

“Hello. Good to see ya,” said the woman, who sounded just the opposite to royalty; Lara quickly noticed how the woman stared at her with curiosity.

“Mum, this is Lara,” said Mum as the Queen stepped aside and allowed them to walk into the home Lara's mother had spent her entire childhood in.

But just as Mum made her way into the lounge, Lara felt a firm tap on her shoulder. She turned around to face the Queen, who broke into a rigid smile and widened her arms slowly, watery eyes telling Lara what she should do next. So, swallowing nothing, Lara chose to answer this particular and silent question by stepping smoothly into those waiting arms, exhaling gently as she rested her head on her grandmother's shoulders.

The awards ceremony was in three days. Everything was set, but there was one more thing to do.

Lara surveyed her newly plaited hair with tiny beads on the ends, silk shift dress, and long row of multicolored bracelets Yomi had given her. Her outfit was finished off with a metallic blue clutch with a gold-and-black-threaded spider on the side. She ran downstairs to the courtyard and waited by the cannons as he drove up.

“Thanks for coming, Tyler,” she said. His smile was reserved, telling her he wasn't giving anything away. It had been weeks since they'd last seen each other. Tyler had stayed with her for a few days as she'd grappled with Dad's angina attack, before slipping away to resume “normal life” once they were sure Dad was in the clear.

“Can you believe I got nominated for Inspirational Businesswoman of the Year? I got the letter a few days ago,” she began, attempting to thaw any possible ice and get them talking.

“I know,” he said.

“Did Sandi tell you?”

“Who do you think suggested you to the committee in the first place? I have a lot of influence, you know.”

“Really?”

“In fact, I have zero influence. I just gave them your details and they had the final decision. They were clearly impressed,” said Tyler, as he broke into a wide smile.

The two of them sat on a bench beside one of the cannons.

“I don't know what to say.”

“I told them your story. Where you came from, what you've achieved in such a short space of time. I told them how confident you are. How strong you are. How you never take any shit from anyone while managing to remain one of the nicest, kindest, and most beautiful women I have ever had the good fortune to meet.”

Lara wasn't expecting that and couldn't find the words for a quick response, so she tried humor.

“Me? Inspirational? Huh?!”

“I don't know about anyone else, but when I'm around you I feel like I can do anything. Achieve anything I want. I'd call that inspirational.”

The sides of their thighs touched.

“I'd no idea you felt that way.”

“That was then,” he said, deflating the tentative balloon that had been forming.

And then he nudged her playfully. “Of course it's how I feel. I'm proud of you, Lara. That will never, ever change, whatever happens between us.”

She allowed herself more than a glimmer of hope.

“I am sorry … about everything.”

“I know.”

She searched his face for something.

And then
he
tried the humor. “You just want to be rescued. Like most women!”

She pinched him playfully. “Shut up!”

“Okay!”

“Seriously though. You've probably got a point,” she said.

His eyebrow rose. “I have?”

“I suppose I was feeling a bit hard done by. Wanting to be really fought for because … well, I kept blaming my mother for not fighting for me thirty years ago.” She'd just referred to Yomi as her mother and the moment was not lost on either of them, as they plunged into a swift silence.

“But I think we—Yomi and I—have worked through that all now. Or at least I'm trying to.”

“Let me just say this, Lara: I have always fought for you. You may not have felt it and you may not have believed it, but I always have and I always will.”

She nodded her head, hoping he saw how sincere she was being.

“I'm still here,” he said, taking her hand. And this time, no resistance.

“I know,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, firmly.

“And that day… When Dad was rushed to hospital … before the phone call… I'd wanted to say… I love you!” she blurted out, going for broke. In one half of a second, feeling foolish, the other half, perhaps liking the way it sounded.

I love you.
There.

He searched her eyes, following them until she burst into giggles.

“See, it wasn't that bad, was it? Saying the L-word?” he teased.

“No,” she replied sheepishly. On a roll, Lara continued quickly. “I'm changing, Tyler. And I want to change. I need you in my life. I really, really do. No more running.”

“No more running,” he reiterated as they simultaneously faced each other and Tyler took her remaining hand.

“You love me?” he asked. His unusually blue eyes, boring into her, beautifully and effectively melted away any doubts she'd ever had surrounding that word.

“Very much.”

“And I love you, Lara. I've waited so long to hear you say that.”

He exhaled slowly and paused.

“Although… I'm not sure. I mean, how much are you really changing?” He raised his eyebrow mockingly.

“A lot, Tyler!”

His hand was now on her back, giving her gentle caresses that felt wonderful. In fact, the whole moment, the two of them sitting beside those cannons, felt so, so right.

No more running.

“Hmmm, Lara … so this change … does it involve you being a little more spontaneous or do you still need to plan?”

“I'm … a little better.”

“Let's go up to your flat, pick up your passport, and jump on the Eurostar to Paris then.”

“What, now?”

“Yes. Now.”

“I have an awards reception in three days!”

“We'll be back tomorrow.”

“No way, I can't! There's too much to organize!”

“Really?” he said, one eyebrow raised.

“Okay… I see what you mean, about being spontaneous and everything … but can't we leave it till another weekend?”

“Which one?”

“A couple of months from now?”

“You are kidding, right?”

“How about in three months' time? Yes, let's do it then…?!”

Knowing she wasn't winning this one, Lara placed her hand around his neck, pulled him toward her, and waited for that kiss utopia Tyler was so very good at. Then she closed her eyes and slowly allowed herself to submit.

No more running.

Almost Human

T
he last time Lara had worn a dress this long was for her school play, during a radical updated version of
Cinderella,
when she beat Connie Jones to earn the role of lead. She'd always remember that triumphant feeling when the drama teacher announced the judge's final decision, before realizing just how itchy that damn material felt against her sensitive skin and how it emitted the stench of mothballs every time they took it out of the school storeroom.