Facade (Romola 1)

2: Romy Baby

If you can, help others; if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them.
-Dalai Lama

“Romola, get dressed.” Romola heard Yetunde yelling her name but she tried to blot out Yetunde’s voice as she scanned through the pages of her note.

By the time she arrived home she would have no time to read. She folded her legs under her Indian style and put the note on her laps. Was Olumide gone already?

She knew the moment Yetunde arrived at the balcony when a feminine shadow fell across her scrawled notes. But she didn’t expect Yetunde to grab her hand and pull her to her feet.

“Go get dressed.” Yetunde repeated.
Romola stared at her friend.  They hadn’t agreed to go anywhere today. Besides she didn’t have money for transport. “Where are we going?”

“Red Glasses.”

Yetunde pulled Romola through the kitchen, past the living room, to her room. She watched Yetunde go through her clothes in her wardrobe, tossing her clothes left and right. She tried to pick a sleeveless grey cotton dress but Yetunde shot her a glare and smacked her hand.

“I’ll choose the clothes.” Yetunde picked a red skin tight dress embellished with sequins.

Romola wondered why Yetunde was choosing a dress for her. She could always pick out her own clothes. Why did Yetunde even pick out the same dress that she had gifted Romola for her birthday? Yetunde threw the dress at her and she caught it, staring at her friend and waiting for an explanation.

“Shut up and dress up. He’s waiting.”

“Who is waiting?”

“Olumide is. He’s taking us to Red glasses!” Yetunde smirked before leaving the room.

Romola stared at the dress before she put in on. She picked a black block heel and paired it with the red dress. She sat on her bed, wondering why Olumide was taking them to the club. Did he even want her there? Why did she even care?

“Is there a problem?” Yetunde poked her head into the room, her long brown braid dangled from her head and swept her shoulder.

“No...Nothing,” Romola drawled. “It’s just that you did not introduce me to Olumide.”

“Is that why you’re boning like a drowning fish?” Yetunde asked. Romola smiled. At least now Olumide would know her name. “Chill girl. I got you covered. Olumide has lots of rich and handsome friends. Do you now, he came in from the States a few weeks ago. He came to check on the duplex he’s building at Ikoyi.”

Romola’s smile faded as she remembered that she was going to be in Olumide’s presence. “But I could have chosen my clothes.”

“No offense Romola, most of your clothes are not good enough for Olumide.” Yetunde said.

Romola didn’t say a word as she picked her wig and ran her comb’s teeth though it. What did she care if her clothes were good enough for Olumide?

But evidently, Yetunde cared a lot. Her best friend had long smoky eyelids and she was dressed in a simple singlet and ripped bomb shorts. Yetunde was dressed to kill and Olumide was the target, Romola mused.

Romola put on the wig and stepped out of the room to the living room where Yetunde was waiting. She stared at the wall length mirror in the living room and admired her curves.

Yes, she did look beautiful in this dress and she might have chosen the same dress if Olumide had personally asked to take her to the club but why would he? He barely even knew her. 

“Romy. Romy baby. The only Romola with the hips.  Romola hour glass.” Yetunde teased, Romola blushed, staring at the chair that Olumide sat in. He was watching her but he didn’t say a word.

She turned back to the mirror and watched him through the mirror. Why was he staring at her so intently? Was there something wrong with the dress? Did she not look good enough? Did he not approve of her clothes? Why should she even care for his approval?

“I’m ready.” She announced, avoiding Olumide’s eyes.

“Ready? Where is your bag? And your make up?” Yetunde reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a small tube of lipstick. She got to her feet but Romola shook her head. The last thing she wanted was Olumide watching her get her face made up.

‘It’s fine. I can do it by myself.”

Romola made to return to her room but Yetunde held her fast with a tight grip on her chin and a look that said,  “if you mess this for me, I’ll never forgive you.”  Then she understood that Yetunde only wanted to show off her makeup skills to Olumide.

“It’s not every time you’ll be forming Miss Independent.” Yetunde led her to the chair opposite Olumide and worked her magic. Romola tried not to squirm under Olumide’s gaze. Why was he so quiet?

Why wasn’t he saying anything? He just sat there watching with his chin buried in his palm. She ignored him and tried to focus on being perfectly still for Yetunde to work on her face.

“Done.” Yetunde gave her a wide smile. “What do you think Olumide?”

Romola’s eyes locked with Olumide’s but she forced herself to stare at Yetunde’s face. “I think she looks good. Well done Yetunde.”

“Just good? Doesn’t she look fabulous?”

“Yes. She looks… really amazing.” Olumide said. Romola couldn’t believe that all Olumide had to day to Yetunde’s work was ‘just good’. Yes, she was much better at cosmetics than Yetunde but Yetunde wasn’t so bad that her handiwork had to be referred to as just good. Fantastic was the word.

“Can we leave now?” Olumide jumped to his feet and stared at the door as though he was eager to leave, Romola’s lips pressed in a grim straight line? Had she kept him waiting for too long?

“Yes.” Yetunde said.

“Wait!” Romola hurried to her room and returned with a clutch and a carry all bag. The same one she took home each week, The one that contained all the clothes she would need when she would revert to her real life.

“Where are you going with that thing?” Yetunde asked, glaring at the bag like it belonged in the gutter.

“Have you forgotten that I go home every Friday night?”

“But I thought you said you don’t have money?”

“I don’t. If I did, I would use it for Uber to the club and I wouldn’t be able to go home. But since Olumide is taking us to the club I can go home from the club.”

“I don’t know why you can never just go home on Saturday mornings? “ Yetunde whined.

“It’s my mom, you know how she is. She wants me home before 3am every Saturday morning.”

“Can I help you with your bag?”  Olumide asked. She had forgotten that he was standing there. She was going to refuse but she saw the look that Yetunde gave her and so she nodded.

He walked to her and took the bag. Their hands touched briefly and she felt her skin burn at the touch. She let go of the bag and he took from her hand without another word.

Yetunde held her back, whispering, “Isn’t he the best?”

Romola only nodded unable to understand the strange feeling in the depth of her stomach that Olumide’s touch had sparked.