Lola

The Ninth Question

      “My mom treats me like I’m riddled with STDs. I wouldn’t be surprised if my name in her phone is ‘whore’.” Joyce bites her lip and cringes at her statement, making herself and me uncomfortable.

       “I haven’t even spoken to my mom in three years,” Logan shrugs, before adding in a harsher voice, “But, she’s a bitch.”

I look at Charlie expectantly, seeing as we’re all sharing, but he only points to himself in shock before simply stating, “Oh, my mom’s dead and has been since I was four."

I’m shocked at this, seeing how happy Charlie is all the time I really would have never guessed that he had lost someone that close to him. My eyes graze over the trio in front of me and notice just how uncomfortable everyone seems at the mention of their mothers and their sharings of personal feelings. I guess this wasn’t something that we were really comfortable with.

“Uhm, thanks. I guess.” I mumble awkwardly, but really do mean it. I actually appreciate that they are trying to make me feel better about my mom, even if they have no clue what really happened between us. Charlie sighs in relief like he solved all my problems and pats me on the back with a reassuring smile.

All this mom talk suddenly reminds me of Lola and how she just found out about a life altering decision her mother made. They should really be reassuring Lola, not me. I was content with my mommy issues. I had somewhat accepted them. She, on the other hand, definitely still ached over her mother’s rejection and whatever else she’s done to her.

“I need to… finish some homework, but I’ll catch up with you guys later.” I tell the group just as they are walking away, Charlie sends me a sympathetic look as if he thinks I am going to go cry about my mom in my room. But, I let it slide in my haste to find Lola.

I can’t really explain it since the most obvious places to look would be her room and the pit, but I somehow found myself bypassing those two places and climbing the staircase that leads to the roof. Maybe I’m remembering the drunken night on this roof with the ten questions or the night in New York City when she found out about Marty passing away.

But, for whatever reason I bounded right up the flight of stairs and thrust open the squeaky door to the roof. My eyes grazed over the rocks and air ducts that could barely be seen in hazy gray of sky fall and land right on the mass of dark hair lying on the gravel, staring up at the sky.

Lola definitely has a thing for rooftops.

I silently let out a sigh of relief and make my way over to her, my feet crunching on the gravel. The breeze is strong enough to make me regret not bringing a jacket outside when its winter and I can feel the weather growing colder as night descends over the city.

Only a few stars litter the sky, most hiding away from the bright lights of the city -clearly visible from the height of this building. The sound of leaves rustling and birds chirping is mixed with the far-off noise of honking horns and sirens that make a beautiful melody I had become accustomed too.

I gingerly take a seat next to Lola on the uncomfortable rocks and look down to see her flashing me a lazy, drunken smile. It’s then, when I see a bottle of whiskey tightly cradled in her grasp, that I realized I was right. She is drowning her sorrows alone.

“Welcome to my kingdom, Noah. I would hold you up like Mustafa, but I’m afraid you’re just too heavy.” She laughs, and I feign my disappointment. She holds the bottle out to me in offering and I greedily take a swig, the liquor scorching my throat and warming my body slightly.

Lola’s dressed in just jeans and a t-shirt, her lips almost as blue as the rest of her frail body and I can’t help but wonder just how long she has been up here. I begrudgingly take off my cardigan and lay it across her chest and arms, which she immediately snuggles into.