by Lindy Zart
Lola blinked her eyes, but tears began to fall from them anyway. What she wouldn’t give to have someone look out for her, someone who cared enough to keep her safe. Wasn’t that what a parent was supposed to do? Neither she nor Jack had a parent, not really.
She wondered if it worse to have one and then suddenly not or to never have one at all?
“Hey.” Jack moved closer, tipped her chin up. He looked down at her, a wry grin on his lips. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked quietly. “Your eyes are leaking.”
A shaky laugh left her. Lola tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. One hand came around her back, pressing her against him. She couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs.
There was something in his eyes that held her in place; some indescribable emotion that was like a punch to her chest. Whatever was in his eyes was deep, earthshattering, and something Lola didn’t understand.
Jack’s head lowered until they were at eyelevel. His pulled her even closer, until there was nothing between them but their clothes. Lola’s arms moved, her fingers threaded through his silky hair.
He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Lola’s arms slid around his waist. Her head rested against his thundering heart. Lola breathed in his scent.
She was safe in Jack’s arms. She was at peace. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. The world disappeared.
***
The lights were dimmed, the volume low on the television. Through the window Lola could make out his shape in the recliner, the outline of a beer bottle in his hand. Up and down it went, to his lips and back to his lap.
She slowly closed the door, heart racing. The room smelled like beer, like he’d dumped bottles of the alcohol on the carpet. Maybe he had. Something for Lola to clean up.
Lola avoided looking in his direction, keeping her eyes down and head turned to the side. She had the crazy thought if she was quiet enough, if she didn’t look at him, maybe he wouldn’t notice her.
“Where the hell have you been?” he growled.
She froze. Even in the semi-dark she could see his eyes on her; they seemed to glow with menace.
“I was…I was at the park.” Lola inched toward the hall.
“School called.”
She went still, back to him. Lola waited, and when he said no more, she turned around. The bottle went to his lips, beer sloshed as he drank. The bottle went back to his lap.
The strained silence continued. Every second that went by was excruciating to Lola.
Lola’s heart beat so fast she thought it might burst. She was dead. She was so dead. The cool, calm façade was the worst, because that’s when he was the meanest. Lola wondered where her mother was, and then wondered why. She wouldn’t do anything even if she was home.
“Seems you forgot to mention having detention the other night. And decided to skip out today. Looks like you got another detention coming too. Stupid kid.”
Lola swallowed, trembling.
“So where were you today, really?”
“I told you—“
He struck fast, faster than she thought possible. One minute he was sitting in the chair drinking a beer; the next he was standing and a glass bottle was flying through the air, toward her. Lola ducked before it hit the wall, the spray of beer wetting her hair and skin and clothes; glass falling to the floor around her.
“Don’t lie to me!”
Tears swam in her eyes. “I—“
A sound of rage erupted from his lips and he charged. Lola spun around, nothing but survival in her mind, and took off for her bedroom.
“You Goddamn whore! That’s what you are! Out whoring around when you’re supposed to be in school!”
Lola cried out in fear, bumping into the wall in her haste to get away from him. He gained on her, his feet thundering against the carpet.
“Mom! Please! Mom, help!” Lola banged on the closed bedroom door. Bob was behind her and she lurched away.
“Your mother ain’t gonna help you.” Bob’s stale breath fanned the back of her neck; his hairy arm lassoed her to him.
Lola screamed, kicking her feet and pounding her fists against his arm. “Let me go! Get off me!” His grip only tightened, almost like he liked her fighting him.
“You want to be a whore. I’ll teach you how to be a whore,” he whispered in her ear.
Just like that the fight went out of her and Lola went limp. Oh, God. Oh, no. He didn’t say that. She heard him wrong. He didn’t say that!
“Bob? What’s going on?” her mother asked from the doorway. She had a grocery bag in her hand; no expression on her face.
He released her and Lola fell to the floor on her hands and knees. “Nothing. Just having a chat. Lola had detention the other night and skipped out of school today. Trying to shake some sense into her is all.”
She stared at the carpet, not seeing it; shaking and sick to her stomach. “You want to be a whore. I’ll teach you how to be a whore.” Lola dry-heaved and ran to the bathroom.
What little she’d eaten for lunch came back up. Lola wet a washcloth with cold water and held it to her face, sitting with her back against the wall. She couldn’t stop shaking; her body jerked with the force of it.
Never had she been sexually threatened before. Her mind went back to the other night when he’d paused outside her bedroom door. Lola was scared, more scared than she’d ever been in the past. She could deal with the physical and verbal abuse; she would rather die than have him sexually abuse her.
The thought of his foul breath and unclean flesh churned her stomach and she wretched once more. It was like his stench had seeped into her skin, became a part of her.
A knock sounded on the door and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Lola? Are you okay?”
Her lips trembled and she began to cry. No, I’m not okay! I’m never going to be okay while he’s in our life! Lola put a hand to her mouth to block out the sound of her sobs.
“Lola?”
She rocked back and forth, tears dampening her face and dropping to her shirt. The sobs became louder, more forceful, and Lola buried her face in her lap and put her arms over her head.
Oh, God. What a waste. What a waste of an existence. This was what she was supposed to have for a life?
“Please, Lola. Are you okay?” Her mother sounded tired. Not really worried, not really upset; just tired.
Help me, Mom. Please. Please, help me.
Lola worked to steady her breathing, dashed a hand over her wet eyes, and said, “I’m…fine.” She couldn’t keep the tremble from her voice, the crack from sounding at the end of her words.
I’m not fine. You know I’m not fine. Show me you care. Show me I still mean something to you. Fight, Mom, fight for us. Fight for me. I’m your daughter! Why won’t you fight for me?
It wasn’t long before her mom said, “Okay,” and the sound of her light footsteps went down the hall.
Lola stared at the white wall above the toilet for a long time, resolution finally straightening her spine. So that was it then. Her mother was gone. She wouldn’t help; she couldn’t help. And Lola couldn’t help her either, not if she didn’t want help.
No one could help Lola but herself.
Lola had to do something. Lola couldn’t keep living this way. No more. She wasn’t going to take it anymore. Her jaw clenched. Lola wasn’t going to give him the chance to rape her. Never.
She slowly got to her feet and walked to the mirror above the sink. Lola stared at the haunted girl with fire in her eyes and told her to be strong, to be brave, to do what she had to do.
Lola took a quick shower, not able to stand the lingering odor of his sweat and body odor on her flesh, scrubbing her skin until it was pink. She tightly wrapped a towel around her and listened, not hearing any sounds outside the door.
She cracked open the bathroom door. It was quiet in the house. Maybe Bob had left. Maybe her mom had gone with him. She didn’t even care anymore.
Cold determination propelled her to her room. Lola hastily threw on some clothes, not looking at what she grabbed from her dresser.
She didn’t think; she just acted.
Lola looked around for something to barricade the door with for her last night in the house. The only thing feasible was her dresser. It took all her strength and anger to get that heavy wood dresser across the room and in front of the door, but she did it.
She grabbed a duffel bag from under her bed and shoved clothes into it. She would go to the bank tomorrow, get her savings, and get out of Morgan Creek.
Lola didn’t even know how she would, but Lola was determined to find a way. There were no cabs, no buses. Hitchhike then. Walk. Anything. She didn’t know where she would go or what she would do; she just knew she had to leave.
What about Jack?
Lola shoved him from her mind and the pain that came along with the knowledge she may never see him again. No goodbye to her past, no goodbye to her present; only a clear path to the future. That’s all she could afford to focus on. Otherwise she would break down and cry, be weak, stay with her mother because of all she used to be and not what she was now, and endure.
No. She refused.
Lola packed her writing and a framed photograph of her mother and father holding her when she was one year old. Lola put a hand to her mouth as she traced their images with her eyes. That was her family. And it didn’t exist anymore.
I’m leaving. I’m leaving you, Mother, and I’m not coming back.
6
Lola spent the night wide-eyed and jumpy, ears trained to hear every whisper of movement; eyes searching the dark for a predator that wasn’t there. She periodically dozed off, but continually shook herself awake. It was a long night.
She got up when she heard them return from work early in the morning. Lola quietly dressed in a pink top and faded jeans. She looked over her room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything she needed. She stood there, sorrow her companion. Was she doing the right thing?
Part of her wanted to try to talk to her mom, to plead with her once more to leave Bob. Lola wanted to tell her what he’d said to her, how she feared he meant to sexually harm her. So many times in the past she’d tried to tell her mother things and she’d brushed them off.
You have to do this. You have no other choice.
Lola waited until she heard the click of their bedroom door closing down the hall. Lola would never stand in this room again; she would never lay eyes on Bob Holden again either. Elation and sadness fought inside her. She was saying goodbye to the abuse, but also to her mother.
She grabbed her duffel bag, slowly opened the window, and climbed out. The brisk air stung her flesh. Lola jumped to the crunchy grass, closed the window, and looked around. The sky was gray and cloudy with streaks of pink in it.
Lola ducked as she raced past their window and stopped on the sidewalk, her eyes fixed on the dark house. Her breath left her in short bursts of air. She was doing it; she was really doing it.
Her eyes shifted to Sebastian’s house, blurring with tears. Her throat tightened. Lola looked at the window on the second floor, knew he was there, probably still asleep or just getting up. The longing hit her suddenly and took her breath away.
Lola said a silent goodbye and turned down the street, toward the woods. She would wait there until the bank opened.
***
Lola’s eyes went to the slab of stone. She swallowed, disappointed to find it empty. It’s better this way.
She told herself that, but it didn’t feel better. She hadn’t felt a connection with another human being since her lost friendship with Sebastian. Jack had been in her life a very short amount of time, but that time had been significant. He’d eased the pain a little; made her feel not quite so useless and a waste of space. He’d made her smile, made her laugh, made her forget.
Lola set her bag down and climbed up the rock, the coolness of it seeping into her. Lola crossed her legs and stared into the dense forest of trees, thinking of the first time she’d known things weren’t right.
It had been such a small incident. Lola had taken too long in the shower. Bob had been furious because she’d taken an eleven minute shower instead of a ten minute one. He’d banged on the door, shouted at her, and punched the wall while she was in the bathroom.
She had been stunned at first; unable to comprehend. Soon after that the fear had found a home inside her. It hadn’t left since that day.
Lola took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Her mother had tried to calm him down. Later she’d reprimanded Lola for being selfish. The next day there had been a timer in the bathroom set to go off at exactly ten minutes. Last night had been a small rebellion on her part not to use it. Not that he’d known. But she had.
Tears turned the trees into dark blobs. Lola brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, chin on her knees. Her mother had sided with him regardless of how irrational he was. Lana had acted like all the problems were because of Lola and not because Bob was messed up.
After a while, her mom just hadn’t cared what was going on; so lost in herself and her own inability to deal with what was going on around her. Lana lived in a fog.
Oh, Mom. How could you let this happen to us?
Lola’s shoulders shuddered as a sob left her. So alone. She was so alone. She looked up, eyes stinging, and checked her watch. It was time to go.
By the time she reached the bank the temperature had raised considerably. With May came heat in Wisconsin. Lola removed her jacket and shoved it into her duffel bag. She took a rubber band from her wrist and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail.
Outside the small gray building, she got her savings account ledger and account number ready and went inside. It smelled like apples in the bank and the clickety-clack sound of fingernails against keyboards surrounded Lola. The interior was shades of tan and gold and overabundant in flowery plants.
One other customer was in the bank; an older man caked in dirt and grime. He nodded to Lola and she nodded back.
She was greeted with smiles and hellos from the ladies on the other side of the counter. Lola approached an older lady with white curls, glasses, and a pleasant smile. The nameplate read ‘Mary’.
“Hello. How can I help you?” Mary had kind brown eyes that had the power to make Lola teary-eyed. She blinked and turned her head away until she had control over her emotions.
Lola took a deep breath and set the ledger on the counter. “My name is Lola Murphy. I’d like to withdraw my savings, please. Here’s the account number.”
The bank teller took the ledger and went to the computer. As she typed, her pleasant expression turned blank. Mary looked up, brows furrowed.
Before she said anything Lola knew something was wrong. Panic squeezed her chest. “What is it?” she whispered.
“I just need to check something.” Mary gave a tight smile. “I’ll be right back.”
While Lola watched, Mary went from behind the counter and into an office where a man sat at a desk. Through the window they exchanged words. Both looked at Lola. They talked some more as they looked at a computer screen.
The lady returned. She wouldn’t look at Lola as she said, “Your account has been closed, Lola.”
“What? Why? I don’t…I don’t understand.” A buzzing began in her ears and dizziness caused her to sway on her feet. Lola put a hand on the counter to hold herself up.
“Your mother came in yesterday afternoon and closed it.” Mary’s eyes finally met hers. “I’m sorry.”
Her voice seemed to come from far away and the world went gray. Lola shook her head and lost her balance. Gone. Her money was gone. Her mother took her money. Bob had her mother take her money. She grabbed for the counter and missed, stumbled back a few steps until a chair stopped her.
She was trapped. She couldn’t leave. Lola had to go back home. She had to see him again. Lola had no choice.
Despondency hung her shoulders
. Tears blinded her eyes. Lola backpedaled toward the door, ignoring the looks of concern from the tellers. Once outside, she dropped to her knees, too overwhelmed to care who saw her or what they thought.
Lola openly sobbed, throat and chest tight. What did she do now? She was stuck. And he was only going to get worse.
“Are you okay?” someone asked. Lola ignored them until they went away.
Lola got to her feet on legs that shook. It seemed pointless to go to school. What did school matter when she was living a life of abuse at home? It seemed small in comparison when the big picture was so awful.
Maybe I should just end it. End it all. No more pain, no more worry, no more sadness, no more fear.
A sense of relief washed over her. Peace, even. Maybe it was the only solution. It would be so nice not to feel anymore, to just cease to exist. Would anyone really care anyway? She’d be forgotten within months, like she’d never been.
Lola walked home, numb. Nothing registered. No sounds, no sights, nothing. But something happened along the way. Something seeped into her, took over, and consumed her.
It was rage.
She wasn’t ready to give up, not yet.
Lola entered the house and tossed the duffel bag to the side. She strode for the bedroom her mother and Bob shared. She didn’t knock; she just pushed the door open and let it bang against the wall.
It was musty and hot in the room and Lola’s stomach revolted. Her eyes went to the bed, to their sleeping forms. Her upper lip curled in revulsion. Hate you, hate you so much.
Bob snorted and shifted under the covers. Lola walked over and kicked the bed with her shoe. She backed away, moved closer to the door.
He sat up, blinking. His face was red and puffy; his thinning hair surrounded his head in black tufts. “What the—“
Her hands fisted and opened, fisted and opened. “You stole my money.”
He sat up, blinked at her. “What did you say?”
Lola’s mom mumbled something, reached for Bob.
“Get up, Mother.”
Lana jerked awake into a sitting position. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair stood up on one side. “What’s going on?” she asked, eyes going from her daughter to her husband and back. “Why aren’t you in school, Lola?”
