Always in my Heart

Kemi's Arrival

**Present Day**

The car sputtered to a halt on the dusty roadside beside a weathered sign at the entrance to the neighborhood. Kemi turned off the engine.

A vibrant signboard painted with lively colors announced, "Welcome to Ikoyi, Home of the Warriors."

She gazed through the windshield, down at the bustling suburb, still familiar after all the years. The silver water tank looming above the rooftops, the red-tiled roof of the local market, the tops of the palm trees swaying gently in the warm Lagos breeze. Not much seemed to have changed from this vantage point. It was beautiful, in a way, if you were just visiting the lively street vendors and artisans' shops downtown, or watching the sunset over the slow-moving waters of the Lagos Lagoon.

Maybe for some people, the artisans, the market traders, the Ikoyi "lifers," it was fine. But not for her. The bigger city had always been her dream, her escape, even before secondary school had chewed her up and spit her out.

She gripped the steering wheel and let out a sigh. Okay, just in and out of town, then back to Chicago. No one from secondary school needed to know she was even here. She could handle a few days. She would be at the construction site most of the time, anyway.

She turned the key in the ignition and the car hummed back to life.

Fifteen minutes later, she parked the car on the side of the familiar, busy street. She turned it off, then waited a moment, hands in her lap, listening, gazing out the side window she had rolled down on her way into town.

It was quieter here, the usual suburban Sunday calm, with just a few children playing and a car passing and disappearing down the road. In the distance was the faint hum of the generators, a sound she had forgotten about but knew meant power outages were still a part of life.

She noticed the almond tree that used to shade the front curb by the driveway was gone, but the massive iroko tree that showered bright green leaves onto the driveway each rainy season was still near the front door. The shrubs there were larger but still well-trimmed.

The house had been painted. It was no longer the familiar pale yellow she remembered but a blend of light green with white and yellow trim. A variety of potted plants were placed neatly on either side of the front steps, which led to an expansive porch lined with wicker chairs and supported by round white Corinthian columns.

The old porch swing was hanging there where she used to play with her dolls or read. Or play board games with Adeyemi. She smiled, remembering. Not all of it was bad. Then she glanced at the familiar house next door, and her smile faded.

She sighed, resisting an urge to just put the car in drive, book a plane ticket and head back to Chicago. The memories of this place were starting to close in on her like some giant hand. Even the air seemed familiar and stifling, as if the neighborhood itself had recognized her, remembered her, and was reminding her that she didn't belong here anymore.

Sorry, Grace. Could not do it. Find someone else to spearhead the Nitrovex campaign.

No. There was too much of her career future riding on this assignment to consider bailing just because of some old secondary school ghosts.

Carrying her light bag, she hustled up the narrow walk to the front door, stealing glances sideways. She felt like an infiltrator, a spy in her own childhood yard. She paused at the front door, feeling strange having to ring the doorbell to her own home. The familiar old ding-dong was followed by the sound of muffled footsteps.

Carol Obi's face, as familiar as the *Lagos sun*, peeked through the lace-curtained window next to the door. Short, with a hint of gray in her hair, she swung the door open, her smile as warm as a *jollof rice* welcome. "Kemi!" she exclaimed, stepping through the screen door with arms wide open.

"Hello, Carol," Kemi replied, dropping her bag and wrapping her arms around the woman who had been like a second mother during her tumultuous teen years.

Carol stepped back, her hands on Kemi's shoulders. "Look at you, all grown and pretty as a *flamboyant* flower!"

Kemi's cheeks warmed with a blush. "Thanks, Carol."

With a wave of her hand, Carol ushered her in. "Do not just stand there, come in, come in!"

Crossing the threshold, Kemi was enveloped by the scent of suya spices, freshly baked agege bread*, and the sweet tang of zobo drinks. It was a far cry from the clinical aroma of her childhood home, the sterile domain of two chemical engineers.

A small orange tabby, a blur of movement, twined around her legs. Kemi paused. "Sparky?"

Carol's laughter filled the room. "Not quite. This little rascal is Sparky's legacy —meet Tommy." The cat circled once more before darting off. "Old Sparky could not settle into the new place, took off one day."

Kemi's heart twinged. "And he never came back?"

Shaking her head, Carol's eyes held a glint of hope. "No, but I like to think he is out there, king of the Eko streets, maybe dropping by with a trophy catch one of these days. But deep down, I know he is probably chasing butterflies in cat heaven."

Kemi's smile was tinged with nostalgia. Sparky, the orchard's fierce little guardian, had never taken kindly to intruders. Yet, his absence left a void, a small piece of her past that had slipped away.

Stepping further into the house, Kemi felt the layers of Lagos life wrap around her —the sounds, the smells, the vibrant chaos. It was a world away from her life in Chicago, yet here she was, back in the embrace of Lagos High, where every corner held a memory, and every face was a story waiting to be retold.

Carol Obi, with her hands dusted in flour, moved into what was once the house's parlor —a place where guests were traditionally received. It was a cozy space, the walls adorned with light rose-colored Ankara fabric that Kemi had persuaded her mother to use as wallpaper when she was ten. "Still works," Kate thought, a smile tugging at her lips.

"So, how was your flight?" Carol asked, settling into an old chair with velvet cushions that had seen better days, next to a stand topped with Nigerian marble.

Kemi placed her bag beside the chair opposite Carol and sat down. "It was fine. Not as long as I remember."

"Ah, time has a way of reshaping our memories. Its been ages since you have been back, has it not?" Carol's voice was gentle, but Kemi detected a playful undertone.

A small smile played on Kemi's lips. "You know how it is, work keeps me on my toes. Climbing the corporate ladder and all that."

Her gaze swept the room, taking in the shelves lined with books, the tasteful local antiques, and the familiar items from our old place. "You have made the house beautiful."

Carol beamed. "Keeps me busy, dear. Between this, the community center, and my sewing circle, there is never a dull moment."

Kemi's thoughts drifted to Carol's love for sewing. "Do you still meet up with the sewing circle?"

"Oh yes, weekly. Right here." Carol's eyes twinkled. "We have grown to a dozen now. We call ourselves the 'Thread Heads.'"

Kemi chuckled. "Do not stir up too much trouble."

Carol raised her eyebrows in mock innocence. "Trouble? Us? Never." She leaned in, her voice softening. "Oh, Kemi. It is so good to see you."

"You too, Carol." And it was true.

Carol adjusted a hand-crocheted doily on the table. "Your mother tells me you are quite the success."

"I am getting by."

"And you are consulting for Nitrovex?"

"That is the plan. My firm specializes in corporate rebranding. "Kemi felt the need to elaborate. "We dive into a company's essence, then craft new logos, stationery, taglines —like a personal makeover, but for businesses."