CHAPTER 20

Naomi liked the feeling of this one.

It had an upstairs and a downstairs. She could imagine everything already. The downstairs would serve as the reception area. The upper floor was modestly spaced and she was particularly happy with the four shutter windows that opened the view of the mostly empty street with the two young Senegalese men leaning against an illegally parked car talking to each other whilst smoking a cigarette.

Save for the shop that sold fake designer clothes opposite the vacant property she was in, there was nobody else trading. She was sad knowing that this was the same street that her grandma used to frequent where every available shop space on the street was open for business.

Her heart filled with trepidation and excitement at the thought of having found what would be her ADE boutique. She found it hard to follow what the real estate agent was telling her as she was lost in her own world thinking of the surrealness of it all. These things only happened in dreams.

She'd decided that for the time being her classes would still run at the church, only that the classes would be much smaller because she had more volunteers lined up to teach, making everything much more manageable. There were a few of the teenagers that she wanted to take on as apprentices as she saw a potential in a fashion career in them.

Naomi never really felt at ease going to bed at the five-star hotel that her husband was fully paying for, because she knew that as she laid on pillows probably made from the finest Egyptian cottons there was someone else who was laying their head on the cold tarmac ground, high off drugs as their only way to insulate them from the harsh reality of their life.

There was a person around her age being inducted into the ways of the Mafia. A girl who'd never been told she was worthy of a better life, been picked up from the street by strange men.

This is all that Naomi wanted to fight for. As also it was what Grandma Sade was passionate about. She couldn't save every young person on the street but it was her soul's call to try to use her art to help.

Her great-grandmother who had been widowed at a young age used her tailoring skills to send her grandmother to school and had been her village's most popular seamstress. Now from the womb of Nigeria, Ife, all the way to the heart of Italy, Napoli, her legacy had proved too strong. The baton had now been passed and the responsibility Naomi could not take lightly.

By the time she returned back to the hotel she was exhausted. Dropping her bag on the unmade bed, she was full of relief as she zipped down her gladiator sandals feeling the soles of her feet cry in relief.

The balcony windows were open and for a moment she stared at the white sky blazing with heat. Her skin was damp against the navy blue dress she wore so she removed it and exchanged it for an oversized top.

She ordered for pizza and whilst she waited for her food to arrive she walked over to her work desk and decided to check her inbox in the meantime.

Her gaze shifted to the gold plate with her name inscribed in the centre perched just behind her laptop, given to her by the Mayor just over a week ago. It was something that made her full with joy remembering the adulations she'd received from the priest and the proud look on Saint-Luc's face when she'd finally walked on stage to accept her award. Shortly after the ceremony, they'd flown back to Paris.

A smile weighed on Naomi's lips thinking of the lie she had told her sister when she had met her the next day at the airport whilst waiting for her connecting flight back to Lagos.

When her sister Donna had asked her what she was doing with her life, Naomi had told her she was working as a sales asistant at a highstreet store.

It had been awkward at first seeing her sister for the first time in nearly two years. When her parents had gone to Nigeria the previous Easter she couldn't go with them because she'd been studying for her A-Level exams. The year before then, was when Grandma Sade died and the sting of going but not seeing her grandma was still too intense for her so she'd stayed back.

What had been the ice-breaker between the sisters was seeing Donna's protruding stomach. Naomi had been overcome with joy for her sister, knowing the long history Donna had trying to conceive with fibroids. A condition that many women in her family suffered with.

She recalled many a times when her sister would call her mother in tears because she wasn't pregnant whereas a lot of her friends were already on their second child. Being a woman in her late twenties, three years married and childless was something Donna did not think was okay. Especially when she was being pressured by her very Nigerian mother-in-law to produce her grandchildren as if that was her only purpose in life.

But nevertheless, Naomi was glad for her sister. Even though her sister was only four months pregnant, the fibroid tissue embedding itself on the inner walls of her belly, made her look like she was in the late stages of her pregnancy.

Despite that, Donna's pregnancy put her in a permanent good spirits and Naomi amusingly listened as she excitedly rambled on what happened during her short stay with their parents.

Her mother had fired one of her employees after several customer complaints that he arrived late and was constantly on his phone instead of attending to customer's needs. Which made Naomi laugh, thinking that her mother's mouth would have been unfiltered as she fired the employee.

When it was near time for Donna to catch her flight back to Lagos, she reached into her hand luggage, and what she brought out of it made Naomi's eyes glitter with tears.

It was their grandma's sketchbook.

All Donna had said, as she slid to her the book that was as thick as the psychology books that she used to buy for uni was, “I found it in her house after we went to clear her house. I know you'll see some some use for it.”

Wordlessly, Naomi had flipped through the book, even the earthy scent of paper that had been lying in an airless environment pleasured her. She saw pictures that she'd helped take for her grandma of her customers wearing her designs. Naomi had been close to tears, but thankfully Donna had broke into her nostalgic thoughts.

Thanking her sister for the book, wishing her a safe flight and promising to keep more in touch, she watched her and her bump waddle off towards the security check point.

She couldn't help but notice the conspicuous look that Donna kept flittering to her like she knew something. Even though she'd told her sister not to tell their parents where she was, she didn't fully trust that her sister hadn't said anything.

Naomi was just glad that her sister hadn't tried to pry even though she knew her parents would have bad mouthed her to Donna and made her look like the child who only sought to trouble her parents for apparently no good reason.

The knock on the door awakened her into the present. Naomi stood from her seat and opened the door, paid for the room service and collected her pizza. Pushing her laptop to the side she settled the tray infront of her. Taking a sip of water, she glabbed the slice of the margherita, her mouth watering at the sight of the cheese knowing she had everything to be grateful to God for.