The Misfortunes of Lolita

13 | when lolita left

"Don't bother, Dr. Yang," the nurse muttered to the doctor, and Martha nodded in agreement, looking at Frank. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she smiled, and Frank remembered exactly how much he'd hurt her, and he closed his eyes again.

"Mrs. Novak, I insist. You can't stay here, please," the doctor tried anyway.

"That is not something you say to the mother of the child who nearly went into coma this morning!" her voice trembled in a way that made Frank's lips twitch up. His mother was a master at using her emotions to manipulate people - he felt like he'd missed her, even though he was pretty sure he hadn't been knocked out for that long.

"Okay. Fine," Dr. Yang stood over him with a clipboard and a black pen. "I'm going to take the mask off, alright?"

Frank nodded, and the doctor pulled the oxygen mask down, and the plastic wires tied back to his head came loose. "Do you remember your name?"

"Frank," his voice was dry, and he coughed. "Frank Novak."

"What month is this?"

"Uh," he closed his eyes. "March." He opened his eyes again. His mother was looking at him as if she'd never thought she'd see speak again.

"Good," the doctor said. "We want to keep you for another day for checkups -"

"Dr. Yang," Martha said. "Can we discuss that afterwards?"

"Of course," the doctor sounded taken aback, pushing his half-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Okay, Frank. I'll give you two some alone time."

Frank looked past his mother to the doctor, who smiled at him and began to leave, to the nurse who was standing at the door. And then his eyes fell on Cora, who was standing just outside the threshold of the room.

They were all here - everyone he wanted to see desperately. His mother, his sister.

Frank hadn't exactly expected his father to show up, and he was kind of relieved that he hadn't. He didn't know what he'd have said to him if he was here - he could practically feel the apologies climbing up his throat, right now.

There was one person who wasn't here, though.

Lolita.

"Oh, Frank," Martha muttered, sitting at the side of the bed, taking his hand into her fingers. "I'm so sorry."

Frank closed his eyes. There it was - there they were, the same words his mother had uttered every time something had gone wrong in his life. He was glad she said them this time too - the familiarity of her taking the blame didn't make him mad now. "It's not your fault, mama." It never was.

"I thought I'd never hear your voice again, sweetheart," she said, brushing her hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back, just like she used to when he was a kid. "I'm so sorry."

Frank shook his head, opening his eyes. "I'll be okay."

Martha cracked a smile. "You're not my little boy anymore, huh?" her eyes filled with tears again, and she pressed her lips to his forehead, getting up and rushing out of the room, her hand over her mouth as she cried.

He almost smiled. His mother was still dramatic, thank god.

"You piece of shit."

Frank sighed, pushing his palms onto the mattress to balance his weight up. He sat up, surprised that his back didn't hurt, realizing he'd gotten off easy. "Cora."

"You piece of literal shit," Cora sat on the bed violently, shaking the frames and making Frank flinch.

"Ow." He feigned feeling pain, grasping on to his left shoulder and grinning.