Lola is Just Like Me

Chapter 08

I sat up with my book later that night, trying to take myself to the Salinas Valley. I absorbed the history of the valley, sat myself in the dry grass, listened to the breaks in the birdsong brought out by real-time disturbances. Muffled voices tricked through my walls and echoed throughout Salinas. I finally closed the book and stared at my door, unable to concentrate on the words therein. I realized: They’re fighting out there. I tried to recall any earlier instances of a fight between anyone in our household, but no such thing had happened. Not audibly. I thought about what Lola had said of Marie. Maybe she was found out. It stirred my insides. They were talking about Derek. I strained my ears; Marie’s voice was barely there, but a few words drifted to me in my father’s voice.

I heard, “… not okay to… helping out!... Well, she’s my daughter…” They mentioned me. Hearing the word “daughter” rushed lead blocks into my lungs. I had caused the dispute. But how? I panicked, dying to know the reason and if it could it be fixed. The idea presented itself that I could sneak down the hallways and listen from there. After all, I had done so many times with Lola. But alone… Alone, it was hard to gather the courage. “No!” my father suddenly said, a little louder than before. “That would never help!” I let my breath slide slowly out. I had to go. I slipped off of my bed and pulled some socks onto my feet. With those on, I could slide my feet over the wood floors without lifting them and making a sound. Switching off the light, I pulled my door out just enough for my narrow frame to slide through and continued down the hallway. It was much easier to hear what was going on.

“You promised me that when you married me,” Marie said with a voice as powerful as lightning and just as jagged. I reached the end of the hall and looked around the bar into the living room. My father slouched on the sofa behind Yorick, running his hands over his face.

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry… But she’s… You haven’t been through something like that, Marie. When you have, you’ll understand me.”

“It’s never good to keep secrets, Brian. Think of it. What if she blames herself for all that? God, when are you going to just… help her?” Marie, too, ran her hands through her hair. They were both so calm and quiet in the most tempestuous way.

My father raised his head and stared at his wife. He said, “I raised her. She’s not going to get any better by thinking about it. I wasn’t even awake, and I have to think about it every single night. She saw it all, and she doesn’t have to remember. It’s better that way, trust me.”

Marie scoffed. “Night terrors, fights, and anxiety. That’s completely better. For Christ’s sake, Brian, everyone knows but her.” That last one was a bit below to the belt to me as I listened. I felt I earned some merit for unraveling some of the puzzle already. But at least Marie was trying to help. “We’ve gotten her out of enough trouble for you to have realized by now that she’s not getting any better.”

“She’s not getting worse, either.”

“Oh, my—Brian, wake up. She’s been asking questions, you know.” My father twitched and was silent. Yorick didn’t break his routine, swimming swiftly, nudging his rubber plant, shimmying to the surface of the water and diving back down again. I wondered briefly what it was like not to care what was going on in the world about you.

“About what?”

“Her sister.”

Dad completely burst. He looked up at Marie, his mouth a straight line. “I know. She asked me, too.” A wave of excitement made me jittery. I was definitely right. It was a bittersweet kind of news. I knew I had figured out a major piece of the puzzle, but I had a sister who had died in the accident. I no longer had to pry and search and work up the courage to find out who was in the car with me, but she was in the car with me.