๐ช๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ต๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ป๐๐ ๐จ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐
๐ฉ๐๐๐ ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐น & ๐ซ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ช๐๐๐๐๐
๐ญ๐ญ:๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐บ
"Racing?"
"Yep," he mimics driving a car like I'm too dumb to know what racing mean. "It's close." He says then fishes his phone from his pocket.
"I can't." I take a step away, rubbing my forehead with my fingers.
I can't step behind a wheel. It's a rule I've never broken since Demola's death, especially when it's my fault he's dead, but me not wanting to drive goes deeper than that. The thought of sitting in a car with the wheels in my hand shakes me from within. With any mistake, I can end up killing someone with a car just like the man ran over Demola.
"It'll be fun."
"I can't drive," I give him a tight-lipped smile as my hands and legs prove to be unsteady with each long stride I take. Ayo takes longer steps to catch up with me, anyway.
"Why?"
I don't look at him. "I don't know how to drive."
"Wait, what?" Ayo says. "Aren't you 16?"
"17 now."
"Yea. 16, 17, why haven't you learned it?"
Ayo must think it's unusual, which isn't to be honest. One: mom never tried to teach me or enroll me in a driving lesson which I'm thankful for. Two: I would have failed because I'd always see Demola standing right there before the car. The thoughts are crippling my already tired soul.
"Chill," he says. His gaze shifts to my hand running over and over my hair.
I pause, taking a huge breath.
"Did something happen?"
"No."
"Okay..." Ayo stops in front of me, folding his hand over his chest as he raises a brow. "Now, I want to know what happened."
I side-step and start walking again with my hands wrapped around me.
"Lola," he over-takes me then blocks me again.
I'm about to dodge him again, but he's fast enough to stop me from walking away, left or right, nowhere to move to. "Ugh!" I grit my teeth and clench my fists. I'm unable to control the fury tearing through my nerves. "Can you just drop it."
His face is a pile of emotions and I can't even pin one on him. Breathing through the mouth, Ayo shoves his hands into his pockets and curling forward like he wants to disappear away or something.
We stay in silence, staring at one another; his eyes are glassy, like he's about to cry? ๐ต๐. I'm imagining this.
I break the staring contest and check out my face through the reflection of the blue car parked in the driveway just next to us. My face is a mess: puffy eyes. I turn to the car now and catch a milky stain on my black T-shirt. Jeez, this T-shirt is dirty.
"You owe me nothing," he says, moving next to me so that our shoulders are side by side and he's facing the car too. "But you need to stop shouting at me. I hate it."
"I... I didn't shout at you."
"You did," he turns to leave so I grab his backpack and pull him back. His face is blank with no expression, but his eyes... they're still glassy. Ayo sighs, then rests his hands on his waist. "Lolaโ"
"I had a brother..." I trail off. There's too much running in my head. Thinking about Demola feels like someone is glaring at me, shouting 'you killed him' and stabbing needles all over my body. "A car ran over him... Ayo, I can't get behind a wheel."
His mouth drops as he reaches for me, but I step backwards.
But I don't say more because he knows too much already and the last person I trusted with my life betrayed me. That person is Kim. It'll be stupid to tell I killed my brother.
"I'm sorry."
I nod, wiping at my wet eyes and sniffing. "I can't drive."
"I know how scary it can be," he says. "How old was he?"
"Eight."
"Fuck."
"Racing... is that even part of the list?" I ask.
He pushes his hair away from his face. "It is, look." Ayo pulls it from his pocket to show me and there it is on the paper.
"Ayo..."
"Mom lost a child when I was two," he says. "I never got to know her, but it broke mom's heart."
He pulls a hand out of his pocket and rubs his face, but no matter how much he tries covering his eyes or acting tough, I see through him now.
๐ท๐๐๐ โ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐ฃ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ โ๐๐ โ๐๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐ ๐ผ ๐๐ ๐ก๐๐? ๐ด ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฃ๐๐๐? ๐ผ๐ ๐๐ก ๐ ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฃ๐๐๐ ๐กโ๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐๐๐ ๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ฆ๐กโ๐๐๐, ๐ ๐ ๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐๐๐กโ๐๐๐? ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ โ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ค๐๐๐ โ๐ โ๐๐ ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ โ๐๐๐? ๐ท๐๐๐ โ๐ ๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐โ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ก๐ โ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ฆ ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ข๐ ๐ โ๐'๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ? Because that is what I feel deep inside and somehow, I think his issue with his dad has destroyed him just like me.
"I'm sorry too."
"I had no idea you hated driving," he opens his mouth, and it stays that way.
"It's okay."
"I thought you'd have fun. Racing gives me this vibe." Ayo closes his eyes. "Your heart races with engine and... I want you to feel that. You deserve this vibe. You deserve this positive vibe, Lola. It's your day."
I'm convinced, but not totally. I need that vibe, the one Ayo promises. But I'd rather watch.
"I can't drive," I turn to him and he steps forward, staring down at me.
Ayo lifts his hand as if to touch me, but stops. "You don't have to. Watch me drive. If you change your mind, fine with me."
"Okay," I bite a nail. "Let's go."
"For what is worth. You don't have to know how to drive a car to go-kart racing."
Cheers to hope. I hope this delivers what Ayo promises because like he said; I deserve it.
๐ญ๐ญ:๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐บ
AS MS. DIDEOLU pulls up next to the sidewalk, the tension inside of her growing. Lola is not home, which means she may be at work. She hopes her daughter is at work if not, something may be wrong.
When she steps out of the car, her hand flicks towards her mouth and then back at her side. Everything seems too much to handle; she doesn't even know what to do with her hands or her mind.
She tries focusing on the possibility of seeing Lola in there, serving customers. Lola will look up in time to see her and Ms. Dideolu will scold her for leaving school, but the most important thing right now is to find her in there.
The door jingles as Ms. Dideolu walks into cups and saucers. There's something always so fascinating about Cups and Saucers and that's the pastels colors of the walls and chairs so calming and delightful. The place always smelled like cinnamon and mulled ciders. It still does. Everyone here is busy with their drinks, talking, laughing and paying for their drinks.
Behind the long counter, stacked with chrome espresso and frothing machine, is a slim girl with jet-black hair. Her head hangs low. When she looks up to see Ms. Dideolu staring at her, she sniffs and wipes her tear-stained, reddened face.
"Hello," Ms. Dideolu forms the sweetest smile on her face. "Is everything okay, sweetheart?"
The girl keeps a straight face, staring over Ms. Dideolu's head. "What should I get you?"
Ms. Dideolu places a hand firmly on the smooth surface of the counter. Her eyes hold the girl's gaze until it falls on the name tag on her chest. Sarah, the tag reads.
"I'm not here to buy something--"
"I don't have time for this," Sarah says.
"I expect you to be respectful to every customer here, regardless if they order nothing."
"You're not a customer," Sarah pulls a strand of hair behind her hair and gives Ms. Dideolu the coldest smile she has ever seen.
๐โ๐๐ก ๐ ๐๐ข๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐. Ms. Dideolu removes her hand from the counter and glances around. On the wall, there's a picture of a man with a double chin and a name beneath it that says Mr. Gregg.
"Can I see Mr. Gregg?"
An aged woman, almost as tiny as a 5'1 child, steps next to Ms. Dideolu and drops a dollar note. "Coffee. Black." Her voice is slow.
Ms. Dideolu watches the woman take her coffee from Sarah, then trudges out of the shop.
"Mr. Gregg?" she prods, pointing at a door behind Sarah, which earns Ms. Dideolu a shrug.
"Look, my daughter works here," Ms. Dideolu pulls her phone from her handbag to check if Lola has returned any calls. "Her name is Lola."
Sarah lifts her brows, but something flashes across her face. Shock recognition, then hate. "The fruit doesn't fall far."
"Excuse me?" Ms. Dideolu narrows her eyes, resting a hand on her waist. "Young woman, I do not condone that nastiness." Ms. Dideolu slams a hand on the counter, and Sarah jumps backward. "Is my daughter here?"
It's at that point the same man on the wall picture steps out, walking like his legs are too heavy to lift and his tie too tight for his neck.
"Hello, how can I help you?" Mr. Gregg furrows his brows at Sarah, then focuses on Ms. Dideolu.
"Good morning. My daughter, Lola. She works here. Has she been here?" The words tumble out of her mouth.
"She resigned yesterday," he scratches his over-grown mustache as he looks over at Sarah. "Or did she come here today?"
Sarah's face is pale. She straightens her back, then arches a brow. "She came this morning to fight me. She didn't stay long."
Mr. Gregg turns to Sarah and wags a finger at her. "Everyone is here to fight you. Sarah, you and I need to have a talk." He glances at Ms. Dideolu. "I'm sorry but Lola isn't here."
Ms. Dideolu tightens her hand around her phone, a weird tingling forming its way from her toes to her knees. If Lola is not here, then where is she? Why is her daughter getting into fights with everyone today? Her teacher and now colleague.
Ms. Dideolu lifts her gaze to meet a shaky Sarah. She points at Sarah, giving her a sign that says my-eyes-are-on-you before marching out of Cups and Saucer.
Out in the bright, warm morning, Ms. Dideolu dials her daughter's number again, which rings and goes straight to voicemail.
Why today of all days? Today is her birthday. Today, Lekan wants to speak to her and for her forgiveness. If her fears are right, then Lola may have run away and now, she'd never know how important it is to speak to her father. She should have never threatened to throw Lola out of the house or even struck her on the face. It took Ayo, a teenager, to tell her the right thing to do.
Ayo... just like that, the idea pops in her head. The principal said Ayo Carter may have followed Lola out of school. If she gets his number from Mrs. Carter, then she can speak to Lola through him.
.
.
.
.
.
.
๐ง๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐๐ผ๐ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ ๐ด๐๐๐! ๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฝ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ. ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ ๐ถ๐ ๐บ๐ผ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด, ๐๐ผ๐น๐ฎ ๐ถ๐ ๐ด๐ฒ๐๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ณ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฑ๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฎ๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ป๐ผ๐, ๐ฎ๐ป๐๐๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฝ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ป.
๐ช๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐ฑ๐ผ ๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ธ? ๐๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด? ๐๐ผ ๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ธ ๐๐ต๐ฒ'๐ ๐น๐ถ๐ธ๐ฒ๐น๐ ๐๐ผ ๐ด๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐น๐ถ๐ณ๐ฒ ๐ฎ ๐๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฎ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ?
๐ช๐ฎ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐ผ๐๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐ป๐ฒ๐ ๐ ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฎ๐ฝ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ผ๐ป ๐ ๐ผ๐ป๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐บ.