Being Lara (34 page)

“A wise man and in your case a wise woman, does not look at where she fall, but where she
slipped.
”

“I think I understand … it's just not that easy…”

“Lara, have I imagined all of this?” she said, waving her arms about. “You taking time off your important work for me? Taking me to places, your wonderful hospitality?”

Lara shook her head.

“Then I can only conclude that you feel for me like I am feeling for you. Am I right?”

“Yes, I feel for you,” smiled Lara.

“Okay, good. So this means I have tricked you!”

“Tricked me?”

“I have tricked you into believing that I am going to be around forever when I am not.” She shifted in closer. “As I have said to you before, one day, Omolara, I will die. That is one certainty we have in life.”

And taxes, Lara wanted to say, but jokes didn't seem appropriate. Granny was getting at something, and she needed to listen.

“So, Omolara, what are you to do now? Are you to stop feeling for me, because it is a certainty that I will one day be gone? To save you the heartache of loss?”

“Of course not!”

“So why do you run from Tyler? He is a good man; I could see it in his eyes and by the way he wore his shirt.”

“What's his shirt got to do with anything?”

“You must never trust a man who has three loosened buttons—like the men who go to Jo Jo's Eatery without their wives. Tyler only has two. This is good. And he has good teeth. This is good, too.

“Ah, there is two old sayings,” continued Granny.

“African sayings, I bet.”

“No, English ones, I think: ‘It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved before.' You may have heard this,” Granny said as she smiled.

“I may have. And what's the other one?” she asked, placing her arm around Granny's shoulders.

“‘Sometimes you can be afraid of what gives you the most joy.'”

Granny was right; she
had
been pushing Tyler away—just like she had her other boyfriends, by letting them know just how much she didn't need them. Lara was self-sufficient, had most of the money she needed, could fix things around the house—perhaps men at times struggled to see where they fit into her life. Weak men. But what about Tyler? He was the strongest man she'd ever met, and at times she drew from his strength without his knowledge, when she needed it.

He
gets
me, she often thought. He understood where she had been and where she was headed. He loved the fact she worked so hard for what she had and he appreciated her independence, never trying to minimize her achievements. And she needed him. Needed his positive energy around her when all she saw were negatives. She needed his spontaneity when all she could think was to abide by a to-do list. She needed his practical thinking in place of her emotional one. Tyler occupied a huge place in her life, and yet she'd never bothered to tell him. Never wanted to—until now. She'd been broken, but everything that had happened over the past month had conspired beautifully to put her back together again. And, now, because she loved herself enough to love
him
she felt ready to make their relationship one of her top priorities and finally be the Lara she was always meant to be.

But Tyler had already found someone else.

“Now go and call your young man, Tieman,” said Granny, gripping her shoulders as Lara felt a fresh bond pass through them. “A handsome man like that demands attention, so you will take your time. Go and fix your hair, wear nice dress, and go to him. Yomi and I will be fine here once you have showed us how to operate that troublesome light switch.”

Lara did as she was told and found herself in Tyler's familiar living room just over an hour and a half later.

“You look great,” he said, appraising her braids, now gathered high up on her head with pins and hooks thanks to Yomi's rapid hairdressing skills. The silk skirt and footless tights had caused Granny to make a face, but Lara knew Tyler had always liked the ensemble.

“Thanks for today, with Gran. She really loves you.”

“That's okay. She's a lovely lady,” replied Tyler. Lara wanted to ask him who he'd been with earlier and why he hadn't introduced them if she was just a “friend.” But she was afraid of what he might tell her.

“It was good to see you, Lara. But strange that you were in a cupcake shop. Does your mum know?” He smiled.

“I know! My mum could have made me better ones but … it's a long story.”

“Why did Sandi call me?”

“Sorry about that.”

“You don't have to be sorry. I just thought that if you saw me, you'd be the one to call.”

“She knew I was missing you a little, but then I saw—”

“You were missing me a little?” he said with a sigh.

“Okay, a lot. I've been missing you and I just wanted to say … what I really wanted to tell you—”

The phone interrupted them.

“You'd better take that,” he said.

“No, let it ring out.”

The phone stopped.

“This is hard for me,” she said.

“It shouldn't be. And that's the point.”

Lara had to do it. She needed to tell Tyler how she felt and, for the very first time, just how
much
she felt about him. “What I wanted to tell you—” she began, and then the sound of Tyler's phone interrupted.

“It's Sandi,” he said, staring at the caller display. He answered, and Lara watched his face slowly shift from surprised annoyance to worry.

“We'll be right over,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Lara, it's about your dad.”

T
he traffic jam meant they were stationary for most of the journey to Essex. Lara was on the phone to a panicked Brian, who was keeping her updated on Dad's progress.

Dad had had an attack.

His heart. He was in the hospital and it might be serious. Tyler had swiftly helped Lara into the passenger seat of his car and sped off in the direction of Essex, the journey hampered by various motorway holdups and delays.

“What if he's dead?” she said, prickles of alarm fighting for space within her entire body as she tried unsuccessfully not to think of a worst-case scenario.

“Baby, remain calm. We won't know anything until we get there. But he's definitely not dead.”

“Can you promise me that?” she asked, knowing how ridiculous she sounded. But she needed something, anything to get through this journey.

“Yes, I can.”

She gazed out the window, tears streaming down her face, a sick curdle in her stomach. She'd been tapping the edge of the car seat throughout most of the journey. Losing count. Starting up again. Then abandoning the whole process. She just wanted her dad to be okay. She needed him to be okay.

“The last thing I said to him was ‘just leave.' Can you imagine that?” Her body ached with pain. “Just leave. Get out. Go. Something like that and just as awful. Can you believe it?”

“Baby, don't think about that now. We'll be there soon.” Tyler squeezed her knee affectionately, and she closed her eyes.

She was on that bike again, wobbling from side to side and wanting to be physically sick at the thought of pedaling all the way to the door of number 65 where her dad stood with his arms held out wide.

“I can't do it, Daddy!” she whined, really wanting to cry and hoping Kieron from next door couldn't see her because he'd be laughing his head off.

She began to pedal, slowly at first.

“Come on, Lara!” encouraged Dad.

The more the bike moved forward and she realized she wasn't flat on her face, the more Lara pedaled until she got into a good rhythm. She was actually moving the bike! She was in control of it all! She could do this. She could actually do this!

“Daddy, look! Daddy, look!” she said, furiously pedaling on her new bike, shiny yellow with tassels—actually, newish, because it had been languishing in Dad's shed for six weeks because she'd been too scared to ride it. She hadn't been anywhere near ready for a bike without stabilizers, but Dad had promised he'd never let her fall. And when she'd made that first arduous journey from their gate to number 65's house, she'd felt like the cleverest little girl in the whole wide world. Not least because that was exactly what Dad said when she jumped off the bike and leaped into his arms, as he showered her face with congratulatory kisses.

“See, I said you could do it, Laralina love. I told you everything was going to be all right.”

Lara opened her eyes as Tyler pulled into the hospital parking space.

“Dad?”

He looked as white as a sheet, his hair the color of fresh snow. Mum was sitting beside him red-eyed, clutching his hand, as Brian paced the floor.

“How is he?”

“Oh, Lara!” she cried.

“I found him. He was in so much pain,” said Brian.

“I can speak for myself, Bri,” said Dad as Lara sat by his bed, her eyes flooding with relief as she took his hand, the whiteness of his skin a total contrast to hers as their fingers entwined.

“You can speak?”

“I had an angina attack, I'm not in a coma!”

“Why did it happen?”

“Your dad still thinks he can sneak the odd cigarette behind my back, that's why! Plus, I told him not to be in that shed for too long. That poxy shed!” said Mum.

Lara turned to Dad. “What were you doing?”

“Just clearing it out. Clean the rakes and that. Then I felt this tightness in my arms and chest.”

“Oh, Dad, it's all my fault!”

Brian said, “If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. Your dad's been asking me to help clear that shed out for ages and I didn't. So sorry, mate.”

“I didn't want you to anyway. That was all Pat's idea. I'm not an old man; I didn't need any help. It's my shed, and I know where everything needs to go. It's no one's fault but mine.”

“But stress couldn't have helped and I—” Lara looked at her dad, his eyes telling her not to say any more. And just like he'd once reassured her over riding a bike without stabilizers, he now said, “It's okay, Laralina love. Everything is going to be all right.”

I
t had been a heavy couple of days.

A very long week.

A most unusual month in the life of Lara Reid.

Her life had been turned in so many ways, her emotions twisted into every direction, at times she'd felt herself balancing on a slippery tightrope, but now for the first time, she was actually heading toward something resembling normality. No, her life would
never
be the same again. But that was okay. So much so, she wished to shout about it from the rooftops of her building. Or jump on a bus and nudge a random passenger to recount the whole story. Or stand in the middle of the street with a placard detailing her journey so far. Unfortunately, the “world” wasn't interested as it trudged along as usual with its own version of normality. And neither were those who paid her wages. Understandably only interested in Lara completing the website revamp in good time and before the deadline. Of course, in the past, anything asked of her was completed with the utmost efficiency and in good time. Her “former” life, happily free from any dramas preventing her from working into the early hours on her laptop at home or staying in the office until the cleaners mopped the hardwood floors. But things had changed. Her life felt muddled and unordered but not in a way that made her feel insecure, lost, and in need of taking control.

With everything happening around her, she'd at first felt powerless, but now she was able to let things toddle along without the need for a total meltdown. Well, almost. And that
had
to be progress.

Lara opened the door to her flat, which used to just be occupied by herself and the odd bunch of flowers from the local supermarket. But now with the sounds of King Sunny Adé as a backdrop, the smell of pepe soup in the air, and Granny almost screaming into the phone in Yoruba up in the bedroom, it felt totally different. Less serene, more chaotic, but not enough to rid her of the smile forming on her face as she placed her laptop on the cluttered coffee table.

“Hello, Yomi,” said Lara, immediately noticing the company brochure wide open on top of a copy of
Vogue.
“Were you reading this?”

Yomi placed a finger to her lips before answering. “I was looking through it. I hope you do not mind.”

“That's all right,” she said, in keeping with the new Lara. “I'm going to be working from it tonight.”

“I know. You have been working very hard. I heard you talking about it on the phone. I… I…” Yomi hesitated, put her finger to her lips again, and then spoke. “I wrote down some ideas for you. You do not have to take notice of them.... But I thought you may like to see what I have written for you.”