It's Just Lola (49 page)

“Don’t you
dare
finish that sentence,”
said
Lola, drowning out his words.  “He told me a funny joke.  You tell jokes; everyone tells jokes.  Jokes make you laugh.”

“
You must’ve had a big laugh over me.  I’m the joke.
”
He grabbed her shoulders, digging his fingers into her flesh. 
“Every time I confront you with something I let you talk me out of it.  One excuse after another after another for years
.
  Only a
n
idiot
like me
would believe
your
ridiculous stor
ies
.”

“
Herman, please.
” 

“You’re a cheat and a liar.  I should
’
ve seen it years ago, but I was blinded by love.  Now I understand.  You’re just a cheap, lying whore
.
” He punctuated each syllable by shaking her until her head snapped back and forth and her teeth rattled.
 
“
I should beat the crap out of you.
”  He shoved her violently away from him.
 
“
Whore.”

Lola’s anger erupted like a volcano.  She needed to lash out and retaliate.  She had to do something—anything to make the hurtful words stop spewing from his mouth.  She felt something under her hand and she threw it with all of her strength.  The missile flew across the room and
Wulf
ducked.

The knife stopped, deeply embedded in the wall, with its hilt quivering from the impact. 

Lola’s anger
turned to
terror.  For a fraction of a heartbeat she
saw
Wulf
with that knife protruding from his chest.  She screamed and her lungs could not refill.  She grasped the edge of the sink to remain standing.

“Oh my God!  Oh my God!  What have I done?”  She ran from the room
, leaving
Wulf
frozen in place.  She ran to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before vomiting with violent painful spasms. 
Before
long
her entire body was trembling.  She collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face, without the strength to rise again.

“Mama.” 

Lola heard Charlotte’s frightened voice from the other side of the door.  Had she been sitting there for seconds?
M
inutes?
H
ours?  She stirred, trying to move.  Her children needed her.  Her children needed her?  Did they?  She
’
d become a monster, willing to slit a man’s throat
for throwing buns at her daughter,
or throw a knife at her own husband if provoked.  No, her children didn
’
t need a mother like that.  Her stomach lurched again.

“Mama,” Charlotte spoke again, “Pop
Wulf
said you needed my help.  Are you sick?  Can I come in?”

Her children mustn
’
t see her like this.  She struggled to stand and wobbled to the sink.  “Wait,” she croaked; her throat was raw from retching.  She rinsed her mouth and splashed water on her face, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.

“Thank you, Charlotte.”  She hugged her daughter and walked slowly to the living room, leaning on the girl’s shoulder. 

“I fed Nellie and Harry and told them to stay in their beds and read until they got sleepy.” 

“Thank you, Charlotte,” Lola
said again
.  “Could you get me a cup of tea?”  Lola sat, drained of emotion, drained of energy, feeling drained of life itself. 
She stared unseeing into space, shutting out the horrors of the world. 

The touch of Charlotte’
s hand on her arm roused her
.
 
“Pop
Wulf
said to tell you he was sorry
. 
He said he understood, and he was to blame, and he was sorry.  Those were the exact words he told me to tell you.  He took his ditty bag and said he
’
d stay on the ship because they might
sail tomorrow or the next day.” 
The girl hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave her mother alone. 

“I’m better now.  Thank you for the tea.  Go to bed.”
  Lola sat alone in the dark and thought about
Wulf
.  She remembered how he used to pick her up and twirl her around in joy every time he came ashore.  Tears rolled down her face as she finally admitted that her husband was not the same man she married.  She had been fooling herself, hoping that when he came home the next time and saw his family waiting for him, he would once again feel the joy that brought laughter and happiness to the entire house.
  His year in solitary confinement had broken him.  She should have seen it years ago.  Something had eaten the joy out of his soul and was still eating at him.  That was why he kept getting angrier and more violent—it was a sickness of the soul. 
Wulf
—her
Wulf
—had died during that time and she was powerless to bring him back.

She took a sip of the now lukewarm tea.  Then her cup rattled on the saucer as it slipped out of her fingers. 
She wasn’t the same Lola, either.
  Yesterday she
’
d
ha
ve sworn
by everything she held holy that
she
’
d
rather
die than hurt one of her family, yet today she’d nearly killed her husband.
  Who knew what she might do tomorrow? 
She shivered as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her.
How many times had he promised never to doubt her again?  And each time it was more violent than the last.  But it wasn’t only
Wulf
’s suspicions and temper—she could no longer control her own temper.  Every time she thought of how close she
’
d come to killing him, her stomach got queasy.  She forced herself
to
calm down and think.

She sat in the dark for hours going through every line of thought she could imagine and following each one through to its logical consequences.
 
At last she settled on a plan.  It
would be the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life—but she had no choice.  Rising from her chair, she went to the bedroom where Harry was sleeping.  Staggering under the weight of the healthy four-year-old, Lola went to her own bed and lay down, holding the warm body close and inhaling the smell of his hair.  Plans swirled in her head even as her tears flowed and the pillow soaked them up into a soggy pool of stuffing. 

The next morning Lola fed her children and went to work as though nothing unusual had happened, but something had died in her soul. 
Her decision
hurt beyond anything she could have imagined, but she had to stop taking the easiest way to get through each day
.
 
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. 
She
’
d been making
decision
s
like a child, solving problems as they arose
.  Now she had to
start acting like an adult, planning for the long term—even if it meant short term sacrifices. 

It took her two days to
finalize
her plans
and make a list of things to do
.
The first item on her list was
something she should have done years ago—
get control of her own money so she didn’t have to beg for every dollar.  S
he
sen
t
a telegram to Charlie for
regular
amounts of money
, and followed it with a letter saying she was preparing to take legal action
.  While she waited, she
would find a lawyer to confront Charlie once and for all. 
What did it matter now if she alienated her sister?
It wasn’t as though she and Juana were ever close. 

This time she didn’t put all her eggs in the Charlie basket.  She also sent a telegram to Enriqueta, followed by a letter
asking for a loan.  She
wrote another to her father
asking him to use any influence he might have to persuade Juana’s husband to give her back her stocks
.  If she knew Enriqueta, the jewels their father gave her would still be intact against future need.

Days passed
and
Charlie didn’t answer her telegram.  The lawyer charged her
a fee
to tell her she had no recourse once she signed over the stocks to her brother-in-law.
 

Her hand shook as she tore open the letter from Enriqueta.

Dearest
Lola,

I know you must be desperate since you sent a telegram.  I weep as I write because I cannot help you.

Remember when we were girls, and I spent all our money on a second sewing machine?  Well, I’ve done something similar. 
We aren’t lining our shoes with paper and felt, but things are pretty tight. 
Tia Francisca recently
joined her husband in Heaven
, and I purchased the building from her son.  As you can imagine, it needed a lot of remodeling. 
T
he first floor
is now
a boutique for better ladies
’
wear
,
Concha and I live on the second floor, and
we
use the third floor as a workroom.
Blanca is attending a private finishing school where she is getting into a suitable social situation.

Sadly, Papa is no longer able to run the plantation.  He never recovered his full strength after his brush with death
, and I think he had a small stroke about a year ago
. 
Victoria
has moved to the main house, leaving her house to Ricardo and his wife.

I wish I had better news. 
I don’t know what to advise you to do. 

Your loving sister, Enriqueta

It was only at night, after the children were asleep, that
Lola
surrendered to
her feelings of loss and hopelessness.
  She knew her father would never get her letter.  She
’
d been so sure Enriqueta would help her
, but now i
t seemed she was out of options.  The next
morning
Lola
dragged herself out of bed
,
got the girls off to school, took Harry to Mrs. Snyder, and went to work. 
S
he forced he
rself to smile at customers. 

Lola began to feel desperate. 
Wulf
would be home soon
, and still no word from Charlie
. 
Two days later,
she decided she could delay no longer.  She
sent Charlotte to tell Tom she would not be riding to work with him.  She said her sister had suddenly taken ill and needed Lola to come and stay with her.  Would he please stop in the millinery shop and tell them she would be back to work tomorrow?  She went to Mrs. Snyder and told her the same thing.  She packed a bag for each child and one for herself and they all trooped down to the bus stop.

With Harry in her lap and an arm around each of her girls, Lola bade a silent farewell to Guttenberg Street
from
the bus window
. 

“We aren’t going to your sister’s house, are we?”
said
Charlotte as they rode.

“No.  I’m taking you all to a new school that
’s
much better than your old one.”

Together they mounted the wide steps of the big brick building.  Lola told the children to wait on the bench in the hallway.  Fighting tears she walked into the Mother Superior’s office.

The nun behind the desk looked kind.  Her face was lined and a wisp of white hair escaped her wimple.  Lola almost envied her the years of service spent in the Lord’s work—almost.  She had served her husbands and her children well through the years.  But what did that amount to if she failed them in the end?

Slowly and tearfully, but coherently, Lola told the nun that she was now unable to care for her children.  She told her how good the children were, and how much they loved school; she told her how much she loved them; she told her how hard it was to part with her babies.  In short, she told her everything she could think of that might convince her that the children were worthy of care.  The nun listened patiently.

“Will you take them?”  Lola asked fearfully when she had finished her speech.

“I’m puzzled,” said the nun.  “You sound like a loving mother, yet you’re willing to abandon your children.”

“Oh, no, Sister.  I’m not abandoning them.  I just can’t afford to keep them now.  My employment does not earn enough for me to provide them with food and decent shelter.”