Finding the Love Between Them

Aimless and adrift in Kingston, Frankie Lawal falls for Angola Salman—her sister's geography tutor—who sees the woman she's meant to become. For Frankie, she realises that finding yourself is hard but finding love while you are doing it is nearly impossible.

Chapter 1   August panic is not a picnic

Frankie woke up and realised, firstly with glee and sadness, then with panic, that it was another glorious morning in her own room in Jamaica and she had absolutely nothing to do that day, just as she did not do anything consequential the previous week and the previous months since she finished university and returned home to her parents in Chancery Hall, Kingston.

It was August and as her room faced the south east, white light had filled the spaces in the nearly closed venetian blinds. It was her childhood room and reflected the years of growing up. A hand-woven carpet - from her first year internship that was spent completing tax returns as a volunteer on a Native American reservation - hung above her desk. An antique bookcase held all of her school trophies starting from Kindergarten through the years with ribbons and statuettes and medallions and certificates. She was not a star at anything, but her parents had insisted that she had a full slate of extra curricular activities. Framed on the walls were special photos and sometimes sketches that she had done and that her mother had dutifully mounted and placed on the walls. It was a very tidy room because the rule of the household was structure and order. So the childhood toys and keepsakes were all in labelled boxes in the cupboard. Besides her computer hutch, the only other significant item was a wicker rocking chair and on it was Unity, the authentic 2023 Special Olympics plushy mascot. She liked the mascot because it had bright eyes and cheerful smile on a soft blue heart shaped body. 

Frankie turned off the air conditioning and opened her balcony door to step outside and was immediately refreshed by the green hills broken in parts by apartment buildings and a few houses taking her eyes down to the still waters of Hunts Bay. It was past 9 o’clock so the school run was over and the first tennis games on the courts of the complex were underway. Another day with nothing to do, nowhere to go…but coffee would be ready.

Her mother, Danielle Klimmot Lawal was sitting dressed for work at the kitchen island listening to news on an internet radio station as she sipped her morning brew. She was wearing dark slacks, penny loafers and a crisp white shirt with her monogram also in white. The car key fob was beside her handbag. She was waiting on the last of the morning traffic to ease off before setting off to listen to people nearly defeated by the cares of the world and battle the institutions of state to make a way for the resolution of their causes. The automatic floor cleaner was moving around the condominium, the clothes dryer was already working. 

They greeted each other and Frankie took a chair at the counter and sipped her coffee.Then she heard the words that she dreaded.

    “So what are you doing today?”

    “Getting some rest, you know.”

    “You used to be so involved, into everything, so energetic.”

In her mind Frankie thought, “I used to be pushed into everything.”

    “Why not meet up with a friend? But you know what, you need time so yes, take it easy”

Frankie knew that her mother was anxious, she had read a lot about young people being mentally delicate, she decided to give her mother some hope.

    “My friends all have jobs or are looking for jobs, and my other friends, I am not into what they are doing right now.”

Her mother understood the difference between friends and other friends. Friends were schoolmates and other friends were those she knew socially from childhood, many of them did not have to earn a living as they or their parents were already wealthy.

Her mother waited for an expansion, and when none came, she asked directly.

    “Into what they are doing right now, which is?”

    “You know, beauty and shopping.” 

    “But you love beauty and shopping!”

    “Not in that way…never mind.”

    “How about entering a beauty pageant? It’s a lovely way to develop some skills, and you will meet interesting people.”

Frankie grimaced. She had never thought about it before and it seemed so much work at this point. Her mother seemed not to notice.

    “You are not professionally inclined, and you don’t need to be. I go to work because I find satisfaction managing the family foundation. You need to do something and don’t become like….”

Frankie finished the sentence, “Alona Weekes-Klimmot. But I don’t see what is wrong with being a house daughter. She is always great company and Alona is so interesting, she reads a lot.”

Danielle sucked her teeth - a sign of extreme annoyance - clicked off the radio. “You have done well Frankie, up to this point with your father and I pushing you. It is time to find your own way now and that will come through living a life with people and challenges.”

She kissed her daughter’s head.

    “I believe that you will. Let’s just keep praying about it.” Then she left.

There was nothing to do, and no one to talk to. It was a lifestyle rule for Danielle that a family should live privately without live-in or domestic staff, so everyone in the household learned to be tidy. It helped that Danielle had every domestic machine and they lived in central air conditioning, which reduced dust. A cleaning service came twice a week to freshen up and iron, and a chef came twice a week to prepare food that Danielle would finish up, as she liked cooking. Their gated community had landscaping and pool services so there was also no regular gardener. The end result was that there was never anyone to talk to during the day at home. Her parents had business to attend to in the days, and her younger sister was in high school.

Frankie decided that it was already too hot to go walking along the community trail, and the house was cooler than the pool deck, so she lingered in the kitchen.

   “I have to try something,” she told herself. “I don’t have to use my degrees.” 

She had her first degree in Accounting from a US university and her Masters degree in Taxation from a specialised institute in the UK. Her studies were to complete her education, not to prepare her for the working world. 

Thanks to her father taking over the helm of Guardhouse Group, the family’s private holding company, the group had become fully professionalised so family members were not needed to fill managerial positions, so were groomed for board positions and the philanthropic arms. Danielle ran the Lawal Family Foundation that advocated for special needs learners and researchers. She had grown from being a vocal advocate in a small NGO to a sector expert, comfortable with medical personnel, educators and policymakers. Her husband had proudly sat beside her as she received accolades and awards over the years. The 2023 Berlin Special Olympics was a major national assignment and her family came along to support her and make it an extended family vacation. 

Frankie did not think that she was a replica of her mother. She could not imagine being enthusiastic about a cause, so heading a charitable foundation was out as a choice. She looked at herself in the mirror. Physical activity had left her fairly fit and she was blessed with a curvaceous figure with a flat stomach, acne free features and a perfect smile thanks to years of orthodontic care. 

Maybe she would enter a beauty contest, it would be something to do. Frankie went back to bed and listened to comedy podcasts.

It was some time around 2PM when she left her room again, hungry and passed her sister’s room and realised that she had arrived from school. Damilola’s room was ajar and Frankie heard voices. She gently knocked and realised that her sister was on a video conference call with her Geography teacher. They had classes twice a week. She seemed to be interested in the subject. Frankie softly stepped into the room and listened because now she had thought that she knew that voice, but she could not place from where.

Damilola and her teacher were joking about whether climate change was caused by natural forces only, such as volcanoes, or influenced by human economic behaviour, such as beef rearing. Frankie did not understand but she liked the sound of the teacher’s voice. He was challenging Damilola’s thoughts, but in a gentle way, and he was making her sister laugh. Then he was wrapping up the class.

    “So the internal forces of our planet is an area that you have to be able to discuss. The Caribbean is very active with them. Jamaica does not have volcanoes, but we do have earthquakes, and that is a sign of forces that are deep within the earth, expressing themselves.”

    “Silent rivers run deep, sir”

    “Not a correct reference, but yes, they do. Have a good evening now.”

    “Bye Mr Salman”. She closed the meeting.

“I remember!” Frankie said triumphantly as her sister looked around at her quizzically. “Alona’s friend from school, Angola Salman.”

    “You know sir?”

    “I met him years ago when Alona invited me to go on a hike with her church group. He was her friend from school and was excited as he would have an opportunity to see rock formations that are not found in central Jamaica where they lived. Does he teach at your school?”

    “No, Alona recommended him to Mummy when she heard that I needed Geo extras. He lives in America.”

    “Interesting,” said Frankie.

To motivate herself, Frankie decided to treat entering a beauty pageant as she would a college assignment. She realised that applications for the Miss Island Glamour competition were open, so she applied and had received an email that invited her to a video conference screening interview. Aside from that, the only thing that was scheduled in the coming days was to listen in to her sister’s geography tutorials twice a week for two hours.

She was reassured by the encouragement in Angola’s voice, the patience that he employed in explaining and how he firmly, yet gently, corrected Damilola. She in turn seemed to try to earn his approval by diligently completing the assignments that he gave. When classes started, Frankie would go into the room and lie on the bed, outside of the frame of the teleconference camera, and listen. 

Chapter  2 The Families

The present generations of the Klimmot Lawlal family was made up of the Weekes family from Mandeville, the Klimmot family from Craighead and the Lawlal family from Barbican. Sixty years before, in the 1960s, the Weekeses had a business providing laboratory services to the Bauxite industry at a time when the Klimmots were large scale citrus farmers. Members of both families married into the Lawlal family which had a construction firm, and over time, the Klimmot generation that grew up in the 1970s, which was Frankie and Damilola’s father’s generation, preferred to work in Kingston and left Craighead to be given positions in the Lawlal construction business in Kingston. When the three families intermarried, they amalgamated citrus, construction and chemical industry businesses into the Guardhouse group of companies with senior family members delegated to be responsible for the profitability of an arm of the business. 

The result was chaotic, and after a time, the only company that reliably made money each year was the construction firm, which was providing cash infusions that kept the others in business. Frankie’s father, Francesco Lawlal, then decided to take control and convinced the Weekeses and Klimmots to sell their businesses to the construction company and keep those earnings in the group. They did, because the funds along with family properties, vehicles and other assets created the Guardhouse Trust and bloodline family members became lifetime beneficiaries of the trust. Of course, because he created the trust, Francesco had control of it. This took years to accomplish, but while it was in progress, Francesco replaced family members with professional staff and ensured their loyalty by including profit sharing in their compensation packages. 

The family’s trust in him paid off. The money never stopped flowing and the family coexisted peacefully. Whenever a family member showed an interest in going into business, Francesco gave his support. His brother Marco ran a customs brokerage, his cousin Barrington Weekes had a recording studio, Barrington’s sister Amanda had a chain of resort spas, his uncle Rupert Klimmot and nephew Jashii Klimmot specialised in customising cars, and so on. In this way, the Guardhouse Group grew as it had a majority share in any family business that it helped to found and only infused money in its own businesses. 

Francesco had given himself a new mission, to select and groom the next generation to be effective board directors and carriers of the family’s hard earned legacy safely through to the generation beyond them.