Death: the only definitive goodbye.
Jerk: the only appropriate description of my actions.
Insensitive bastard: more like it.
I hate funerals. Granted, the only one I have ever attended was my father’s, so I might be biased, but still. I had to really dig through some boxes for the only suit I own. Maybe I should just make it my funeral suit. I forgo the tie this time; the guilt I’m feeling is enough of a noose around my neck.
I hate the way I acted the last time I saw Lola. The red-hot jealousy that clouded my vision toward her grief is unforgivable, but hopefully she has some forgiveness for me. I can’t believe I didn’t notice the look of devastation in her eyes in the reflection in the mirror that morning. All I saw was her running and throwing herself on Brian and Nolan. Maybe her disregard of me being there should have been a clue.
It just hit me wrong, seeing her in their arms after the way we had spent the night before. It was one of the most unforgettable nights in my life. I take one last look in the mirror and take off to the funeral home. My Uncle Jack invited me to ride with them, but I need to be alone.
I arrive late. I walk inside, scanning for her. I spot her in the front between “her boys.” My fist clenches as the poison travels through my veins; I can’t get near her feeling like this. I will make more of an ass of myself again. I look at them one last time, their heads so close together that they look like a black blob up front. I turn to leave but Mark sees me and motions me to sit with him in the back.
As I take a seat, I put my hand in my pocket and find one of my father’s roses from the bouquet my mother ordered for him. As I look at it, I am taken back to that day: the sadness and hopelessness I felt, my inability to be strong for my mother and sister, the realization of being the man of the house now, that I had to take care of my family now. I hear a cry from the front. Lola, my beautiful girl. It takes everything in me to keep me glued to this chair. Her cries are like acid to my heart. A tear escapes my eye and runs down my face. I’m unable to wipe it away, this kind of pain is not that easily erased.
I wish I could ease every tear, every crack in her heart, but I have to respect the radio silence I got from her. I called her cell phone every hour since she kicked me out of her room, but no word back. I never left a message; I didn’t know what to say.
So now, I sit at a distance, enduring seeing someone else’s arms around her, someone else drying her tears, someone else’s shoulder supporting her. How I hate her relationship with them; their presence doesn’t allow room for her to miss me. I know they love each other like siblings, but I want her to also need me, to seek me out. The eulogy ends. The people get up, making their way to the front for one last goodbye, and give their condolences to the family. I make my way outside, away from the girl that sets my world on fire. I have to respect her wishes, at least for today anyway, but as soon as the sun breaks tomorrow, I will be begging her for forgiveness.
“Hey man, are you not coming?” Mark asks when we get to the parking lot.
“No, you go on ahead,” I say as I walk toward my car. I place the dry rose in my suit pocket again, but now a fresh one joins it. Together, they will join in sorrow and pain.
My alarm is set for six a.m. Is it too early to barge into a mourning home? I get up, get dressed, and start on breakfast. Yesterday I spent the whole day at the track. I even sat on the hill where Lola became mine. I just kept thinking of us.
“Good morning, son,” my mother says as she makes her way to the coffee pot, after placing a kiss on my head. “You are up early. Are you heading to the track today?”
“No, I’m going over to Lola’s.”
“How is she holding up?” she asks as she sips her coffee, walks over to the table, and sits with me.
“How do you think? I don’t think Lola has ever been away from her grandmother in all her life. She is heartbroken.”
“It is going to be a tough couple of months. It was so hard for me after your father died, but you and your sister gave me the strength to get up every day. It will get easier. Let her know how sorry I am for her loss.” I get up and take my bowl to the sink.
“Leave it, honey. I’ll wash the dishes. Go take care of your girl. Be as strong with her as you were with me.”
I drive toward her home and I wonder what her parents are going to say about an early visitor. I park behind her Jeep and walk to the front door. What’s the worst she can do? Kick me out again? I’m not walking away.
I knock on the front door. Her father answers after the third knock. He looks worse for wear.
“Good morning Mr. Cole, can I see Lola?” I don’t even think Lola has mentioned me to her parents; during most of our short relationship, they have been gone.
“Come in Luka.” I look at him, surprised that he knows my name. “Nothing happens in my daughter’s life that I don’t know about. The distance is only in miles, son, remember that. She is upstairs in her room,” he says before walking into the kitchen. There are chairs and trash all over the place from the friends and family that came here after the burial.
I go up the stairs toward her room. I knock but no sound can be heard from the other side of the door. She must be completely exhausted; maybe I should let her sleep. I debate what to do, but the need to see her wins out. I turn the knob and walk into her room. The scene from the funeral hasn’t changed much, maybe just in position: three heads, six arms, and six legs wrapped around each other like a lifeline. I look away as I feel the green-eyed monster coming to alive inside of me. I really want to rip their arms out for daring to touch her so intimately. I turn to leave but as I do I take one last look of the scene.
Our gaze meets. There’s hurt and confusion in hers and I know it is reflection of mine. I turn and walk out.
“Luka, wait,” I hear her call out, her voice raspy from sleep or from all the crying she did yesterday. I am halfway down the stairs when she catches up to me. She grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers as she pulls me back toward the second floor. We walk in silence down the hallway, away from her room, away from the boys.
She opens a door to a room. As she walks in, she starts touching everything that is coming into view; I think it must be her grandmother’s room. I stay by the door out of respect. These are Lola’s memories, the accumulations of her grandmother’s life.
“Do you know that I don’t have a single memory without my grandmother? I thought about it a lot yesterday. There was never a day I did not see her or talk to her, even if it was just a quick hello or goodbye. She went with us on all our vacations and she stayed with me when my parents were away. The last two weeks I saw her maybe three times at best.” I just stand here listening.
“At first, I was mad at you for making me want to spend so much time with you, taking that time away from her. I blamed you for not being able to say goodbye, for being in your arms when she was dying, for sharing with you that I made it to the next level of auditions before I shared it with her. Dance is something that she and I both loved.” She is talking and walking around the room, not picking anything up, just touching it.
“So that’s why you didn’t answer my calls?” I ask, making her halt in her inspection. Without turning to look at me, she answers.
“No. I just haven’t charged my phone,” she says, and then proceeds to her grandmother’s bed. She takes the blanket off the bed and wraps herself in it, taking a big breath, smelling it. I see a half smile make an appearance.
“I love her smell.” She starts walking again, well more like waddling since she wrapped herself pretty tightly. She looks so cute and fragile. I want to reach out and hug her to me and never let her go. My palms are itching to touch her, but I need to get an indication from her that she will welcome it.
“But then I realized that it was not you I was mad at. I’m mad at myself for taking her for granted.” I can hear the emotion in her voice. “For thinking that she would always be here waiting for me, that the time I kept putting off would eventually be
made up. But now I don’t get to tell her I’m sorry I skipped the meeting for the stupid TurkFest.” She is full on crying again and I just can’t stand here any longer without touching her. I rush to her side and wrap myself around her. She grabs on to me. I kiss her hair and soothe her.
“Baby, don’t feel bad, there was no way of knowing this was going to happen. I am sure she knew how much you loved her. I didn’t know her a long time but I know that she wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself or feel guilty for living your life,” I say to her as she quiets down. I get to comfort her today, something I should have done yesterday.
“I had a dream about her. She was standing there glowing. I was in my full ballet attire. She said, ‘Lola, mi princesa, I’m glad you are staying in good hands.’ I looked at her and said, ‘Abuela, I wouldn’t call Nolan and Brian good hands.’ Then she said, ‘No not them.’ ‘Who do you mean then?’ I asked her. She didn’t respond because at that moment, I opened my eyes, and there you were. ”
“Do you think that maybe she meant me?” I say hopefully. I love this girl like crazy, and if I could open her heart and mind and take away this pain and loss I would, in a heartbeat.
“I needed you yesterday, Luka. Why weren’t you there?” she cries, breaking my heart.
“I was there, but it seemed a little crowded up in the front.” I just had to go there. I feel her stiffen in my embrace. She tries to break our connection but I am not having it. Yes, I’m the asshole who brought it up, but we need to talk about it.
“Luka, you are starting to sound like Nolan. Brian and Nolan have been in my life forever and they loved my grandmother like she was their own. We were all hurting. What you saw was just family trying to be there for one another,” she explains.
“I know that you guys are like brothers and sister, but I get jealous of how deep your connection is. But, that’s the baggage I have to deal with, not you. So I’m sorry, Lola, for being a prick, for thinking about me and my feelings instead of being there for you and thinking about yours. I am sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. I promise that will never happen again. I have fallen so hard and fast for you,” I declare. I lift her face to mine, leaning in for a kiss.
“Luka, morning breath,” she says last minute before giving me a quick peck.
“Where to next, happy feet?” I say.
“Happy feet?”
“As tight as you are wrapped in that blanket, you were waddling like a penguin and you dance, so yeah, happy feet.” I say, kissing her scrunched up nose.
“Funny, mister. Let’s go to my dance studio.” I bend down and pick her up to carry her.
“Put me down, Luka!”
“No, it will be a lot faster than your waddling.”
“But her smell is on it,” she pouts.
“I know, baby.”
We arrive at our destination. The dance studio looks lonely; that’s what Lola’s absence does. It’s how I felt for the three days I was away from her. She spreads the blanket on the floor right in the middle. She takes a seat and motions for me to do the same.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin the smell.”
“I’m sure.”
“Just so we are clear, you forgive me right?”
“Yes, silly. We are all entitled to one off day. I think all of our emotions were out of whack the last couple of days.”
“I have a confession,” she whispers.
“Ok.”
“This is something I have been dying to tell you, because it needs to be said and I really want our relationship to work. I have never ever felt anything for anyone like what I feel for you. Please believe that.”
“Ok.” I have no idea where she is going with this, but it is making my hands sweat.
“Growing up as close as we did and by we, I mean Nolan, Brian, and myself, we experienced many firsts together: first words, first steps, and eventually our first kiss, and more,” she finishes in a rush.
“Ok.” Yeah, I can’t form a complete thought after hearing ‘kiss’.
“The relationship that we had become one of a, how do you say…” She looks everywhere except at me. “…sexual nature.”
“What do you mean sexual, Lola? You slept with one of them? Which one?” I say angrily. I didn’t want it to come out like that, but all I can think about is that she slept with one of the boys that had their hands and legs all over her just a few minutes ago.
“Both,” she whispers.
“At the same time?”
“Not all the time.”
“It was more than once? With both?”
“Yes. You have to understand, I only had them. It started as an experiment. We were young and curious, and one thing led to another, now here we are two years later. But, we stopped it already. It stopped being fun. I love those boys. Nothing and no one will come between us, but I love you and only you in that way.”
I get up and start pacing around the room. I knew something was going on, but I was hoping I was wrong.
“How am I going to compete with that, Lola? They have a seventeen-year head start. We have only known each other for two months.”
“Luka, didn’t you hear me, you don’t have to compete. The feelings that I have for you are ones that I have never experienced before. After what we shared the other day, I realize what it feels like to do something with real emotion versus something done out of habit.”
“I don’t know how to feel about this. On one hand, I want to forbid you from seeing them and on the other I can’t take them away from you.”
“They are my family above all else. I love them. But I understand,” she says quietly.
I kneel in front of her. I take her face in my hands and I look into her eyes. I can see the sadness in them, for her grandmother, for her boys, for me. I lean in closer, taking her lips in mine.
“It won’t be easy to see them near you, but the way you make me feel is worth it.”
I lay her back on the blanket and cover her body with mine, kissing away my jealousy and hopefully her sadness, making us forget about how chaotic life can get.
I vaguely hear the door open and close, but I’m too lost in the essence that is Lola to care.
I don’t know how long we are cooped up in her dance studio, but my stomach is grumbling.
“Hungry?” she asks, I’m sure she heard my stomach rumble.
“A little,” I respond. I really don’t want to move.
“Let’s go feed you. I wonder what time it is.” She makes a move to get up, but I stop her, pulling her back into my arms, kissing her until I’m satisfied. Then I help her get up.
We make our way to the kitchen. It is quiet in the house. The door I heard was probably the boys leaving earlier. I sit at the bar as Lola makes her way to the fridge.
“Sandwiches?” she asks, looking over her shoulder.
“Sure.”
She starts taking everything out and walking toward the counter with all the condiments. She starts building our dinner. We are silent during the whole process, just giving each other sly looks and smirks.
She sets my sandwich in front of me with chips. I don’t wait for her to settle before taking a bite of mine.
“This is some good stuff, babe.”
“What do you-” she gets interrupted by the slamming of the front door. “What the fuck?”
“LOLA!!” I hear Brian yell from the foyer.
“In here!” Lola yells back while giving me a confused look.
We both turn to see Brain stopped in the entryway.
“Lola!” He tries to catch his breath, tears running down his face. “It’s Nolan. He was taken to the ER.” He sounds devastated.
I jump off the stool just in time to catch Lola before she hits the floor.
The numbness trickles down my body, making it too heavy for my legs to withstand. I put my hands down to try to break my fall, but even that is too much. I’m paralyzed from the neck down. I suddenly feel Luka’s arms under me, breaking my fal
l. He cradles me in his arms. I see his lips moving but I can’t hear him. He keeps repeating something. I squeeze my eyes shut then reopen them, looking right at him.
“Lola,” I hear him call me, but it sounds distant. The more he repeats it the clearer his words are. I turn and see Brian sitting opposite Luka, holding my hand. I sit up and remember Brian’s words. Nolan?
“Nolan!” I yell out. I break free from Luka’s hold. I stand and the world seems to be spinning faster than I can stomach. I run to the bathroom and vomit.
Brian brings me a cold wet cloth and places it on my forehead. I rinse my mouth out not bothering to brush my teeth.
“Let’s go!” I yell out to both of them.
No matter how fast Luka is driving or how many red lights he runs, it seems as if he can’t get me there fast enough. The hospital comes into view, a place I’m not too fond of right now. It’s a place that sees life and death at the same time, a place where one celebrates it and another mourns it. I despise this place.
Brian approaches the receptionist. They exchange a few words and Brian signals us to follow him.
“He’s been moved to a room,” Brain says as he presses the elevator button. I breathe a sigh of relief.
“He’s ok?” I ask.
“I don’t know, Lolita. All she said was he is in a room now. Only two of us are allowed in at a time and he already has visitors. We have to wait in the waiting room and let them know we’re here.”
The elevator dings and the doors open. “The psych ward?” I’m confused.
“She said the sixth floor,” Brian says.
There is a desk area directly in front of us, a waiting room to our left, and to the right there is a metal door with a camera. I slowly approach the desk and before I hit the bell, my mom turns me and pulls me into a hug.
“Mom? What? How are you here?” I ask confused. “What happened to Nolan?”
Dirty Chaos Page 13
