FICTION
Lara Coker
December 1, 2022 | Issue II | Damilola Omotoyinbo
She opened the food cabinet, slammed it shut, and screamed.
Lara met her pointing at the bottle on the cabinet, her face contoured with fright, disfigured by the cluster of emotions that ran through it.
“What is this?" she finally found her voice. But the words came out jumbled.
There was silence before Kate said, “Did you get them in this house? In this kitchen?"
No one would believe she shared the place with rats. An apartment worth a million naira. A clean two-bedroom flat – what the sturdy agent had called it on the day of inspection.
What did Lara know? The apartment looked cosy too until she moved in and rats would chew and chew till dawn. The creatures ate every food crumb, entered bags and drawers and left their remains everywhere.
***
Getting an apartment on Lagos Island seemed like a diamond hunt on Everest. And the pressure surmounts after each call from her mother.
"So, how is the house search?"
"It is fine. I just returned from a place I went to check."
"How is the place?"
"It is not good. And most of the agents don't want to rent out houses to single ladies, I have limited options."
“I think you should come back home. I don’t understand why you left this house where you get free food and a roof over your head.”
“Mom, I thought we were done with this conversation? Why must you bring it up every time you call?”
“Lara, we have just begun. You need to tell me why you have chosen to roam the streets of Lagos as if you were sent out of your father’s house. Remember you are a woman.”
"What about my new job? I can't do that while living under my father's roof."
After going back and forth, her mom would talk about her father's obsession with his next promotion. A man who has reduced to a shadow in her mind, if not for the credit alerts she gets from him.
Lara did not care, though. She loved the balance. She could not imagine her father scrutinising them like Mom. Wanting to be in control, to make every decision for them, or be a big part of each decision they make.
The more their father got enveloped by his job, the more her Mom's worries tipped over. And her calls came frequently.
***
5:30am. Raindrops fell like little pebbles on the roof. The air was still and sweet. Her phone beeped. Mom. An early call could mean a message from her Pastor, or she had a bad dream and they all needed to fast.
"Hello, Mom."
"Don't tell me you are still in bed."
"Today is Saturday now."
"Even though… Well, we will talk about that later."
When she had just begun to settle down into her new accommodation and job, her Mom requested to visit.
“What are you trying to hide from me, ehn?” she asked.
“I am not hiding anything.”
“Oh! You don’t want your friends to meet me?”
“It is not like that. I… just think Dad will be lonely if you leave him in the house, all by himself.”
“Did he complain to you? Is he a child? Tell me?”
Lara spent the whole week thinking and mapping out plans on how to convince her. But two days later, lashes darting behind thick lenses, lips pursed, she came with her baggage of tantrums.
One afternoon, the older woman stared at Lara with deep-set eyes, cleared her throat and did not wait for the usual "Good afternoon, Mom. I hope you are not bored?" Before she threw words at her like heavy punches.
“You should know that young men don’t offer help these days without any ulterior motives."
Lara stared at her silently. Was she even expecting a response? Her Mom walked to the couch but instead of sitting, she picked up her reading glasses.
"You should know better. You are not a baby." She sat, placed her palms between her legs and began to shake them. "Be careful around him, because my spirit does not align with his.”
Her Mom's spirit never aligns with anyone's, not even with their quiet neighbour, their Pastor's wife, or the woman who supplies chicken feed for her poultry.
“Do you want me to waste my salary on t-fare when someone is ready to help? He is just a coworker.”
“Ehn Ehn. I am just warning you. That man is not good for you. I am telling you the truth as a mother."
"Oh, really."
"Is it wrong to put you on track, Lara? You are not too old to be corrected."
"He is just a friend. Mom, you don’t need to worry about me.”
“I am not worried.” Her Mom blurted out, the movement of her legs now faster. And she knew it was better to change the course of the conversation.
She walked towards the kitchen, “What do you want for dinner? I can prepare porridge. I got some potatoes."
“So you are trying to skip the conversation abi?”
“I just knew you would be hungry already.”
Dinner was almost done. Like incense, the voice of two angry women rose from the yard to the kitchen. She heard legs scampering. Someone struggled to open the gate. She turned off the cooker and strolled to check who it was, but there was no one. Except for her fuming mother.
“This girl walked out on me when I invited her in.” She turned down the sides of her mouth, before she said, “Lara, where do you get friends like this ehn.”
"Which friend?"
"I was confused at first, is she a man or a woman? Her fierce look seemed like she would knock people down if they dared her. Her tinted hair. Her male-like demeanour. Her baggy trousers." She spoke breathlessly. "Is she your friend?"
She knew it was Kate and her mom would have given her a good moral lecture. Kate would not have left without getting some lashes from the woman's tongue.
“Mom, I need to rest. I had a long day at work.”
"You know I…" Her mom had started another statement. But she did not wait to listen.
***
The early morning drizzle gave that Friday a lazy mask. Her boss had called an impromptu meeting to replace a newly transferred manager. Everyone came early, yet the boardroom was unusually quiet.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We will make this as brief as possible. You already know why we are here." He signalled to his PA, a petite woman.
She stood to speak, "This secular should have been sent to everyone alongside the notice of the meeting. But Oga said I should not." She passed the printed copies to everyone. "It contains the names of those the company is considering for the position."
Lara skimmed through nonchalantly. But she found the L standing straight like a try square, Lara Coker. It must be a mistake.
She cupped her palms around her mouth and blew dry air into it. She looked up and found everyone staring. She did not place her name there for all she cares.
Oga continued, "After much deliberation, the panel..." Staff members began to murmur. He raised a fist into the air. "Be quiet, please."
"Due to her diligence and act of service, we have decided to make Lara Coker the new MD. I know she just joined us but this is the final decision of the management. Thank you." He picked up his briefcase and left.
The boardroom grew arms that pressed her against the wall. Eyes that bore holes into her skull. A few well-meaning colleagues congratulated her.
Some walked out grumbling and a few indifferent ones got back to their jobs unconcerned. But Ahmed remained in the room. She could feel his eyes on her. She swallowed hard and fidgeted with her bag zipper.
"I just hope you know what your new position entails."
"I think I do. Anyways the management will…"
He scanned her, "Well, your charm must be so powerful. I can't imagine, a woman."
"Excuse me."
"Whatever." He walked out.
***
Lara turned the swivel chair. Bit her nails to ease the pressure that had mounted since she moved into the MD's office.
"Whenever something like this happens, you should always inform the management." She said, The woman on the other end of the call mumbled some words and stopped halfway.
"Things will be different this time, trust me. Your products will be delivered at exactly 6 pm, I will ensure there is no delay." Lara stood up and as she began to make for the Executive Director's office, she caught Susan looking at her with upturned lips.
They had tagged Lara as "the too-know". But what does she care? Her job is the punching bag, it soaks up the frustration. She punches hard till her muscles became taunt. Till her knuckles could feel no pain.
She straightened her skirt, pretending not to notice different heads turning as she walked out of her office.
***
The woman hummed silently, rubbed a talcum powder on her face and with a white handkerchief, she whipped off the speckles from the table. She turned away from the dressing mirror.
“Your set of friends can even chase men away from you." She said and went silent as if trying to get the best words to use.
She continued, "Look at the first that visited, that one with coloured hair. Who turned herself into a crayon. And the other one. What do you call her name again, ehn?”
“Peju.”
“The makeup on her face should be used by three people. Is that what you people call fashion?" She paused and raised her palms towards the ceiling. “God knows I am praying for you and your siblings. But you should not make my prayers go empty by walking contrary to it.”
“Mom, your prayers will not go empty. Why are you talking like this?”
“Why won’t I talk like this ehn? Why would a single lady rent a two-bedroom flat? You don’t know that this alone can chase away men? And you are thinking of getting a car.”
That was it. What she had waited for. Yet it unsettled her. Did they not say you can never be well-prepared for a thunderclap.
“Just get a smaller place when the rent is due. And cook more, men love women who can satisfy them with good homemade meals.”
“Mom, I have heard you. We need to leave now, remember I am running late for work and you have to get the first bus leaving Lagos for Benin.”
“Let’s pray.” The older woman said, whisking away her words.
***
The molue screeched to a halt. Traffic. In between checking the time and tightly clenching her bag, she thought about the guys she had dated in the past years. Tunde, Bolu...
"Auntie, help us open that window." A fat woman jolted her out of her thoughts.
A hand from the back seat opened it instead. The fat woman murmured about some people being too sluggish.
Traffic moved slowly. The driver fiddled with a sachet of gin, he got distracted and brushed another vehicle. Both drivers alighted, fuming and pointing out who is at fault. Amidst the shout of frustrated passengers, she heard the faint beep of her phone. A message from Kate.
“Can we have a ladies' night out today, at my place? By then your old woman will be in Benin, in her husband’s house. And we need to celebrate your big win.” She added a wink emoji.
“Yes. That will be great. See ya!” She texted back. This was exactly what she needed. Her Mom's visit has almost drained the life out of her.
***
The door was ajar. She slipped in. Music blared through the stereo, but Kate was nowhere in sight. She turned down the volume and undid her shoelace. A velvet cake sat on the centre table. A bottle of champagne by it. The room is dimly lit. A familiar aroma hung in the air like a conspicuous banner.
She entered from the kitchen, and dropped an open flask of jollof rice. "You are here already."
"Yes. What are all these for? I thought it was just a sleepover?"
"A little celebration is not bad. At least for you. For us."
"Us?"
Laughs, "I invited Peju. She will be here in a minute. I am done with cooking. Let me freshen up."
Peju barged into the room, grinning. Her foundation melted on her sweaty face. Her two front teeth were the colour of her lipstick. "I have never been so proud of us. And now, of you, Lara."
She grabbed the bottle of champagne, popped it and filled three cups. "Let's have a toast. To sisterhood. To the many wins, seen and yet to come. Babes, we keep smashing the patriarchy."
Glass click. Thirsty throats gulp liquor.
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