“Is this what you’re wearing to the date?” I asked, eyeing Betty. She wore her favorite pink sweater—oversized, fluffy, with threads hanging loosely in every direction. Paired with her most worn-out boyfriend jeans, they were her comfort clothes.
“That’s not the reason I came here. I didn’t come for your interrogation, Mom,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.
“I know you didn’t come here to get policed, but seriously, Betty. Not this. You wear it everywhere. I could give you a dress to wear, something a bit nicer,”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” She plopped down on my bed.”
“Stop being a biatch.”
“And stop fretting over everything. I promise you, your Grandma won’t care about what we’re wearing. “
“Fine, whatever.” She was right, but it wouldn’t kill her to put on something nice. It wasn’t worth arguing about clothes. I had just met my grandmother for the first time in my entire twenty years of life, and today was supposed to be about reconnecting with her.
Silence settled between us as I sifted through my wardrobe, trying to find the perfect dress—not too short, not too long, not too flashy, and not dull. I didn’t want to be overdressed or underdressed. I just wanted to make a good impression on Grandma.
Betty watched me closely with every movement I made, and her thumb stuck deep in her mouth as she noisily chewed on her nails. I glanced over, sensing something was on her mind. “What is it?” I asked.
“It’s gonna make your eyes pop,” she said, looking mischievous.
I rolled my eyes. “Betty, seriously?”
She held up her phone and read aloud, “Elizabeth Maria Jack is the tenth richest person on the planet and the second richest woman currently.”
I froze. My heart skipped a beat. “You’re joking.”
“Look at my face. Do I look like I’m joking?” she said, dead serious.
My eyes widened, like when you pop open a bottle of champagne. “So that means…”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “That means Mom can finally stop being a maid and get a job that fits her cert. I can take my WAEC exams without worrying about how she will afford the fees. And you…” she smirked, “you’ll get to live your ‘classic rich girl life.'”
“Living the classic rich girl life,” I repeated, a smile slowly spreading.
It was surreal. If only life hadn’t been so cruel, if I hadn’t lost ties with my father and Grandma, everything would’ve been different. I could’ve had a completely different life—working in a fancy office bigger than this rickety house, sipping expensive champagne, living like a Kardashian.
But life wasn’t fair, and that wasn’t the life I had gotten. Still, it wasn’t too late to turn things around. Life was too short to dwell on regrets. I could only move forward from here.
And that’s what I was going to do. Grandma was already waiting for me at the restaurant. There were years to catch up on, and I wasn’t about to waste any more time.
“Let’s go,” I said, finally settling on a simple but elegant dress.
Betty grinned as we headed out the door. “Let’s go meet your Grandma.
When we stepped outside, the driver was already waiting. This time, the car was different. It was a sleek black Jeep that looked like it could easily handle any terrain but still had that shiny, intimidating aura. I didn’t know much about cars, but I liked this one. The tinted windows and the sparkly rims were among the things that caught my eye. It felt expensive, like everything in our lives was starting to shift.
The driver was different too—thinner, shorter, but he looked kind. His head bobbed to the rhythm of the music playing softly from the radio, moving in a way that reminded me of lizards mating. As we cruised through town, I caught myself doing the same, nodding along.
Betty caught on quickly and laughed, watching me and the driver jam out to the ’90s Fela Kuti song playing. It was one of those moments where everything just felt right. Fela’s music had a way of making you feel alive and hopeful. And right now, that’s exactly how I feel—alive and hopeful. The usual stifling heat of the sun seemed to be smiling down on me today, and even the exhaust fumes from Lagos traffic weren’t bothering me much. Not even the usual Monday morning chaos could bring me down.
“We’re here,” the driver announced, pulling into a parking spot.
“That was fast,” I murmured. Navigating Lagos on a Monday morning usually felt like a marathon, but maybe I was in such a good mood that I hadn’t noticed how time had flown by.
Betty and I hopped out of the jeep and entered the restaurant. It was one of the poshest places in town, and I’d heard about it but never had the chance to visit. Fresh herbs and sizzling food hit us when we stepped in, and I immediately felt underdressed. Everything was so pristine, elegant, and refined.
One of the servers directed us toward the VIP section, where Grandma was already seated. As soon as we approached, she beamed at us.
“Sara, my love, you look stunning. Both of you.”
Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a soft glow on her face. I could see her more clearly than last night, and she looked radiant despite the fine wrinkles that lined her cheeks. She wore a flowing, deep blue designer dress, probably from a high-end brand. The material shimmered as she moved, elegant but not overstated, and it fit her perfectly.
“You look astonishing yourself,” I said, stepping into her embrace. We hugged, and for a moment, I felt the weight of all the years we had missed together melt away.
“What food do you girls want?” Grandma asked, her eyes locked on me, not even glancing at the menu. She was shaking her legs slightly under the table, her fingers tapping the edge of her glass.
Grandma was nervous. The second-richest woman in the world was nervous because of me.
Scratch that. She might be the second wealthiest woman, but she was my grandma, and I was nervous that she had finally seen me after many years.
I had waited too long, hoping that one day, Dad or someone from his family would come to find me. We were finally here, together.
Betty and I ordered Jollof rice and pepper soup as appetizers at Grandma’s insistence, while Grandma ordered Chinese rice.
“I should’ve had Jollof rice too, but that food is spicy,” she chuckled, and I laughed. Suddenly, it made sense why I wasn’t a fan of spicy food either, despite living in western Nigeria all my life.
“Sara’s the same,” Betty informed her.
Grandma smiled at me warmly. “She’s my granddaughter, after all. And I’m the luckiest grandma on earth.”
“And I’m the luckiest granddaughter to have a grandma like you,” I said, happiness radiating. We had lost so many years, but that didn’t matter now. We had time to build a bond, one stronger than ever.
A tear slipped down Grandma’s cheek, followed by another trailing from her cheek to her chin. She quickly wiped one away, and I reached over, gently brushing the other with my fingers. Her skin was soft beneath my touch, the lines on her face deeper up close. Years of waiting, of longing, echoed in those lines.
“It’s alright, Grandma,” I whispered, trembling slightly.
She clasped my hand, squeezing it tightly. “You know, I thought I’d never see you again. I had already given up when Leo, my private investigator, called and told me he’d found you.”
“I never lost hope. I knew you’d come for me one day.”
“Can I hug you, Sara?”
“Of course. You don’t need to ask.”
Grandma pulled me into her arms, and I sank into the embrace. It was firm as if she was trying to make up for all the missed years in one hug. Her perfume was familiar, a faint blend of jasmine and something citrusy,
As the hug deepened, our breathing synchronized, as if our hearts were reacquainting themselves after so long apart. I felt her warmth seep into me, and I clung to her a little tighter, silently promising that I wouldn’t let go this time.
The moment was interrupted by a sharp ring from Grandma’s phone, causing us to pull apart reluctantly. She fumbled with it before glancing at the screen.
“It’s my grandniece, Chloe,” she said. “She’s wanted to meet you since yesterday, and I’ve postponed it. I guess I can’t anymore. Do you want to talk to her?”
I nodded, and she handed me the phone. Big blue eyes stared at me through the screen, wide with wonder.
“Hello there. I’m Chloe,” she said.
“Hello, I’m Sara.” We said it in unison, and both burst into giggles.
“Grandma told me a lot about you, but she never said you’re this pretty,” Chloe whisper-yelled.
“Thank you,” I replied honestly. “Grandma didn’t tell me you’re this pretty either.”
Chloe’s eyes were big and doe-like, with long blonde hair with a pink splash at the tips. And that smile—the infamous killer smile. The one Grandma had, the one Dad had. The one I had.
“Are you two ganging up against me?” Grandma cut in, pretending to pout.
“If necessary, then yes,” Chloe said, feigning indignation. “Why did you leave out such an important detail?”
I laughed. “I can’t do that to my Grandma.”
“See, Chloe, I finally have someone on my side when you’re bothering me.”
We all laughed, and it felt so easy, so natural—like this family had always been complete.
Betty raised her hand eagerly. “You haven’t introduced me to Chloe.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” I said, adjusting the phone to show Betty’s face alongside mine. “This is my sister, Betty.”
Chloe gasped. “Oh my gosh, Betty, you’re so pretty! It’s nice meeting you. I wish I could be there, but school had to ruin everything with exams.”
My sister grinned. “It’s fine. We can meet up later.”
Grandma leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s at UC Berkeley.”
Betty’s eyes widened. She had always dreamed of attending a top college and studying journalism, and this information sparked something in her.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “I’d love to meet you in person someday.”
“I’d like that too,” Chloe replied. “So, are you both planning to follow Grandma back to the US?”
I caught the flicker of expectation in Grandma’s eyes, and before she could respond, I blurted out, “Yes.”
Grandma’s eyes widened with surprise, but I saw the excitement simmering beneath. She wanted this—she wanted me with her.
Chloe’s face lit up. “Are you for real?”
“Yes.”
My voice was firm, but I knew there’d be challenges. Mom wouldn’t like this idea. But I wasn’t going to lose Grandma again. No matter what, I’d find a way to convince Mom.