Things Left Unsaid

Chapter 3

Seeing Lima in her own studio was a dream. She had always wanted to be a designer. Attending the specialist Arts school we did for high school meant that I had hardly been around people that looked like me.

Striking up a conversation with Lima on our first day of Sixth Form, in the crowded white space of an assembly hall was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. We each thought that the other was from our own respective countries, the geography of our faces too similar for it not to be true. And we were half right. We were both East African and it meant that we had an instant connection.

Experiencing both Sofia and Lima in the same room, was chaotic but my social battery held up surprisingly well. Sometimes you just need real interactions with people who know and love the true essence of you. If this had been any other setting in LA, I'd be mid way to being drunk and (or) snorting something up my nose. But I was stone cold sober right now and if anything I was feeling decades of emotions all at once.

We hugged, we danced with joy, we ate and we cried over memories and played dress up with clothes all afternoon and it was just what my weary spirit needed.

When I parted ways with the girls that afternoon, I did have a banging new work appropriate capsule wardrobe, Lima was one of those designers that made timeless pieces. Things you could fall in love with regardless of your personal style. I arranged to meet up with Sof on Tuesday morning and she was going to make the introduction to the record company personally.

Later that evening, we had met up again and were all on a rooftop of a Mayfair hotel bar, drinking and smoking shisha like the past decade had never happened. Like we had all been transported back to being fresh-faced 18 year olds, unjaded and untouched by the world. It's crazy how we hadn't hung out for so long as a trio but the vibe was just as we had left it. Those kinds of friendships are hard to find and life has taught me, when you do find them you should hold on to them with both hands.

"I've got to ask though, Harry, and please do take this in full offence..." Lima started, her face full of mischief. "What, Sof. I want all the smoke," she said addressing our blonde friend who hated confrontations and awkward moments. "Mikki, with two Ks? Wagwaan with that sis? Like, really what were you going through?"

I laughed, throwing my head back. "Oh man, I have nothing to say. It's indefensible. I'm not even offended."

"Good. Welcome back to London."

"Thank you, when I've sufficiently recovered all my faculties from the LA fog, we're gonna get into your Dubai exploits."

"I'm on an open book boo, I've got nothing to hide."

"Except a certain American..." Sof stage whispered into her drink.

Lima scowled at her, looking like a dragon with the smoke coming out of her nose. "Why can't you keep secrets, Sof? It's been 84 years."

"I'm just fact-checking, it's important to present accurate information in this age of Fake News."

"I hate you, Sofia King."

"Who's going to tell me about this mystery American then?" I asked.

"Get comfortable, this is a long story." Sofia warned and I did just that. The duo told the story like a well-oiled comedy routine that had me crying with laughter and on the edge of my seat.

"So...it's over?" I asked at the end puzzled. What Lima had described was a long-distance friendship turned romance with a sudden and unexpected ending.

"It wasn't over, it's still not over!" Sofia made her voice deeper in a cheap imitation of Ryan Gosling in 'The Notebook,' making all three of us laugh again.