Lola is Just Like Me

Chapter 06

My father left my room sometime near midnight. I could tell I was wearing him thin. After the dream, though, I didn’t know what to tell him. Lola took the wheel almost entirely. After my dad had closed the door at was halfway to his room, tension nested itself in the silence that choked me. Lola had, somehow, gotten an idea of what had happened in the night.

“What was it this time?” she asked. “Was it different? You looked near death. I was scared.” I swallowed hard and switched on my bedside lamp. Something told me to be cautious of what I let her know.

“Mostly nonsense. I lost a balloon. I think my mother was there.” My scar was flaring up, pain digging down beneath my skin. My left eye fluttered from the pinpricks, and I tried to push the images from my mind.

“You’re horrible at lying.”

“I know.” My cheeks flashed with the weak heat of embarrassment, a brief and involuntary display. “It was about the accident. The most horrible thing I’ve ever had to experience.” Lola cringed. I had forgotten to lighten my word choice.

“What happened? In your dream, I mean.” Lola’s tone grew edgy, prying, and nearly desperate.

“I was at the park, and I lost a balloon. I was with some girl that apparently I knew very well, and…”

“And what?”

“Lola, did I… Did I have a sister?” Lola stopped breathing for a fraction of a second, moved to the window sill and gazed into the back yard. The pain in my face intensified as she drew a hesitant breath.

“Well,” she said in a shaky sigh, “I’m not sure about that. I wasn’t around back then, you know.”

“Is there anybody you think would know?” I felt like I was guilty of something, as if I had been deliberately trying to insult Lola. I was a little ashamed, even though I knew that wasn’t true.

“I… I don’t know. If anyone would know, it would be your father. Or maybe that woman would know.” It was an obvious answer, but I was hoping there might be easier people to ask. For the moment, I was just glad she was open enough to tell me that much. After a long silence, I turned out the light and drew the blankets over my head. I lay that way, in silence, until daybreak.

***

When I could wait no longer, I pretended to wake up from sleep I hadn’t gotten. As I got dressed, Lola stared at me hard.

“You didn’t sleep. Don’t pretend.” Her arms were crossed to match her mood. I slipped a black sweater over my shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “Just don’t wear that color. Pink looks so nice on you.” Her arms unfolded, and she tried for a smile. It didn’t really look genuine, but I accepted it anyway. I changed to a white shirt with a pink sweater over it. “I tell you so all the time.”

“I know.”

“I wish I had your complexion. I’m too dark; pink doesn’t suit me.” Lola’s smile shrank, but it was real. It was thoughtful and warm, the kind of thing that made me want to hug someone. But her words turned me to the mirror. The light seemed to intensify on my pale skin, everywhere but my sickly-brown scar that flat, dirty-blond hair could never hope to hide.

“I wish I had a paper sack.” I snatched my backpack and purse from my vanity table chair and led Lola to the door. For a moment, I thought of the irony of someone who couldn’t stand to see themselves owning a “vanity table,” but it only amused me for a moment.