Facade (Romola 1)

60: Burnt Shirt

"This or this?"

"Hmm?" Olumide raised a brow. "What's the difference between them?"

Romola's lips shifted towards her eyes. "This one is blue and the other one is yellow."

"You'd look good in either of them."

"Be serious na." She placed the yellow dress against her body. She liked the colour of the dress but she preferred the off-shoulder style of the blue dress. She had brought the clothes into his room, so he could help her choose.

"You'd look good in anything, baby." Olumide folded his arms and picked the folders that sat on the table beside the wardrobe. "It's just a housewarming party. Nothing too fancy."

"But I'll be meeting your parents. I have to look nice."

"You look more than nice."

She sighed, tossing the dresses at him. "You aren't being helpful."

"Okay, wear the blue dress." He held it out to her.

"Don't worry." She strode across the room and picked up the red dress she had hung over the bathroom door. "I'll just wear this one.

"See, you've made up your mind." Olumide set the other dresses on the bed, grinning at her like she had invented pizza. "Remember, the hairstylist will be here soon."

"I know. I know. Let me just iron this dress."

A frown sat on her lips as she left the room. All her efforts to get his attention had failed. Since they arrived from his new house, he had been quiet and, she felt, distant. No doubt, his sister must've said something bad. She found the ironing board in a smaller room besides his. She set her dress on the board. She'd asked him about his discussion with his sister but he refused to talk. Her lips twisted. A cold feeling pulsed through her body. Every time she thought about it, she felt that way. She was going to meet the family he didn't like to talk about and she wanted everything to be perfect.

Her elbows stuck to her side as she starred at the clock on the wall. It was 5pm and Dami was yet to return from wherever he went. She hadn't seen him since she slapped him. Was she the reason he was avoiding the house? Had she caused a rift between the friend? Dami had spoken out of turn. But she didn't want both men fighting because of her.

She picked the steam iron from the foot of the board and plugged it into the socket above the board. She lay it over her clothes and turned it on. Everything for the housewarming was set. Other than her hair and shoes. With each wave she smoothened, her mind wandered to her thoughts in the kitchen with Olumide.

Heat spread across her face. She'd been so eager to have him close, closer than clothes could allow, that she almost took off his shirt. She bent her head. She was the same person who didn't want him to see her naked. Her cheeks reddened.

She turned the dress over.

"Romy baby," Olumide's hand wrapped around her waist.

A frown on her face. A picture flashed in her face. Of a young girl staring over a stool with a burnt shirt on it. A man's shirt. She dropped the iron.

"You scared me."

"I'm sorry. The hairdresser is here."

"Alright." She broke free of his hold.

"Are you okay?"

No would be the perfect answer. Could she tell him about the image in her head? She knew she was the girl? But whose shirt was that? When and where had that happened? Was that even a real memory? She couldn't share it with him. Could she tell him she had started to remember when all she had was an isolated image? For all she knew, it could be her brian playing mix and match with her memories and the movies she watched. But the terror she had felt staring at the burnt shirt was real. It was not her imagination.

"Romola?"

"I'm fine."

She pasted a smile on her face and resumed her ironing. Yetunde had said she would regret her decision to stay with Olumide when she started remembering. Is this what she meant?